Chapter 6
It's Only a Bloody Parking Offence
As it turned out, the case of Sirius Black had garnered quite a lot of attention; which was only natural, of course. When Harry headed downstairs to the bar, he noticed that it was swarming with reporters and journalists. Under the protection of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry was able to slip out unnoticed to where Red was waiting.
"Hey, Harry," she said with a smile, "Ready to turn some heads?"
"Sure am. Got our seat tickets?"
"VIP section."
"And your dad's defending Sirius?"
"Yep, he's got everything ready and is talking with Sirius right now."
"Right, well, let's be off."
They loaded into Red's dark green Chevrolet and set off to the Ministry; Harry asked why Red didn't just Apparate there and she replied that she didn't have a license; besides, she was claustrophobic and Apparition had always caused her to panic. Soon enough they parked and headed straight over to where the run-down old phone booth stood; they entered the telephone booth and dialed M-A-G-I-C. Once the lift had descended, and they had donned their little silver pins, the two made their way over to the check-in counter and had their wands registered.
"Here for the Sirius Black trial?" the little wizard inquired. They nodded. "Courtroom ten."
Harry and Red made their way down to the courtroom and were shown into the VIP stands. Naturally, Harry's presence drew a bit of attention; luckily, Red was able to fight off any reporters by informing them that it was illegal to solicit comments from a minor without the express permission of his legal guardian. Of course, Dumbledore was also surprised when he saw Harry in the courtroom; however, he clearly couldn't speak with the boy as the trial was about to begin.
"Attention, attention, everyone," the Minister declared. "I call this court to order. Let it be written that this trial of the magical community of Great Britain versus Sirius Orion Black is called to order on this Monday the 16th of August 1993. Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic, presiding. Bring in the defendant."
Sirius was led into the courtroom and placed into the chair that magically chained him in. Instead of looking nervous, Sirius just sat there calmly and smiled up at those assembled.
"About time I got this trial," he said.
"Does the accused have someone to speak in his defense?" Fudge asked.
"I do, Minister. Mr. Hamilton Bayly of Bayly, Black, and Prewett will be defending me."
Mr. Bayly was shown in and the trial began.
"Minister Fudge, Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, the Right Honorable Madam Bones, Chief Warlock Dumbledore," he greeted. "Today is a momentous occasion, as we fully intend to see the correction of a dreadful miscarriage of justice against the soon-to-be Lord, Sirius Orion Black. His title was inherited upon the death of his grandfather Arcturus, a few years ago." There were some mutterings amongst the Wizengamot at the revelation of Sirius being a Lord.
"Hem-hem!" came an unwanted interruption from a familiar toad-like figure in pink. "I beg your pardon, Mister Bayly, but I think you are mistaken. It is well-known that Sirius Black was disowned from his family. Therefore, the title of lordship to the Black family is to be passed to the closest male descendant, which would be the young heir of the Malfoy family."
"Correction, Madam Undersecretary," Mr. Bayly retorted sharply. "My client was never officially disowned, though his mother, the late Walburga Black, attempted to convince Lord Arcturus Black to do so. Therefore, my client is the undisputed heir to the Black lordship."
Umbridge looked very put-out. Harry figured that she wasn't too thrilled about being put in her place by a Squib such as Mr. Bayly.
"Duly noted," the Minister said. "Will the prosecution please step forward?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Where is Auror Scrimgeour?" Amelia asked with a sigh of frustration.
Suddenly, the aforementioned Auror came hurrying into the room.
"So sorry I'm late, I couldn't find the kosher Floo exit," he said. "Don't bother to recap, Madam Bones, I'll pick it up as we go along."
"Right," Amelia said with a roll of her eyes.
"Will the prosecution please read the charge?" Fudge continued.
"Is a charge strictly necessary, Minister?" Scrimgeour asked.
"The Press is here," the Minister hissed.
"Oh! Oh, sorry. You are Sirius Orion Black?"
"Yes," Sirius replied.
"You are hereby charged 1) that you served as a member of an illegal organization known as the Death Eaters, 2) that you willfully betrayed the location of James and Lily Potter whilst serving as their Secret-Keeper, 3) that you committed the murder of Peter Edmund Pettigrew, and 4) that you murdered twelve unidentified Muggle bystanders. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty on all counts."
There were more disconcerted mutterings.
"Duly noted."
"Madam Bones, if I may?" Mr. Bayly proceeded.
"The court recognizes Hamilton Bayly speaking on behalf of Sirius Black," Amelia said.
"Certain events have led to evidence that proves my client is innocent of at least the charge for accessory to the murders of James and Lily Potter."
"May we see this evidence?"
"Certainly, ma'am. Call Exhibit Q!"
"Q?"
Mr. Bayly looked startled for a moment.
"Sorry, did I say Q? I meant A. Call Exhibit A!"
It was Josiah Prewett who entered with the aged parchment.
"Does the court recognize this?" Mr. Bayly pressed. "It is the joint will of James and Lily Potter. In addition to revealing that it was not Mr. Black who was the Secret-Keeper, it also sheds a great deal of light onto the guardianship of one Harry James Potter."
Dumbledore decided that it was time to intervene.
"I must protest!" he said. "That will was sealed and as young Mr. Potter's Magical Guardian I cannot allow the contents of that document to be read."
"You are forgetting, Chief Warlock, that the contents of a will may be used as evidence in a trial. Also, it should be noted, an heir of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House may access the contents of his or her parents' will if that person is over the age of eleven. Furthermore, this will also indicates that you have no grounds to claim guardianship for young Mr. Potter. I request the right to read this document. As Mr. Potter is here today, I ask his consent."
"Granted," said Harry from the gallery.
The court listened, enraptured, as the Potter will was read. Several of those present were shocked to discover that they had been considered as suitable guardians for Harry. Albus Dumbledore was beginning to feel uneasy.
"There's still the charge of murder regarding Pettigrew and the twelve Muggles," Lord Ogden pointed out. "Black did give an explanation in The Quibbler, but I feel we should have it stated in the record exactly what happened."
"The prosecution would like to call in the Auror responsible for apprehending Mr. Black as a witness to the murders," Scrimgeour declared. "Call former Auror Pan-Am."
The former Auror dashed into the room and began to hit anyone he could reach with a truncheon, including Sirius and the Aurors guarding him. The Aurors managed to get the clearly mental man into the witness box.
"There will be plenty of time for that, later on," Scrimgeour said. "Former Auror Pan-Am, do you recognize the defendant?"
"No, never seen 'im before in me life!" He then looked over at Scrimgeour who was trying to nod discretely. "Oh, sorry, yes."
"Former Auror Pan-Am, could you tell the court, in your own words, what happened?"
"Oh, yes! I was proceeding in a northerly direction up Alitalia Street, when I saw the deceased…standing at an upstairs window, baring 'er bosom at the general public. She then took off her…" Scrimgeour was now frantically shaking his head. "Wait a tick! Wrong story. Oh, yes! There were three Veelas in a railway compartment! And the ticket in…" Once again Scrimgeour shook his head. "No?! Anyway, I clearly saw the deceased…"
"The defendant," Amelia corrected.
"Defendant! Sorry. I clearly saw the defendant…doing whatever he's accused of…uh, red-handed! When kicked, uh, cautioned, he said…" He pulled out a small notebook and began to read. "'It's a fair…cop, I done it all. Right. No…doubt about…that.' Then, bound as he was to the chair, he assaulted myself and three other Aurors, while bouncin' around the cell. The end!"
"Thank you, Mr. Pan-Am, you are dismissed," Amelia said.
"Thank you, Madam."
As he was led out, he flailed wildly in his attempt to hit the Aurors escorting him. Scrimgeour was looking uncomfortable as his only witness obviously lacked credence.
"I think we can safely rule out Mr. Pan-Am's testimony," Fudge said.
"Mr. Black," Amelia inquired, "do you have any objection to being questioned under Veritaserum?"
"None," he answered.
Sirius was quickly administered with three drops of the truth potion.
"What is your name?" Amelia asked.
"Sirius Orion Black."
"Were you ever involved with the Death Eaters?"
"No, I would rather have died."
"What happened on the day of November 1st 1981?"
Sirius then related exactly what he stated in the article. By the time everything was wrapped up, the courtroom was nearly in an uproar. People were calling for blood for the incarceration of an innocent man. With a smile of satisfaction, Fudge announced that Bartemius Crouch Sr. and ex-Minister Millicent Bagnold would be tried for their actions. Before the trial could be concluded, one of the Lords stood up.
"Before we conclude, I would like to bring up a critical point that we are at risk of overlooking."
"The court recognizes Lord Richard Acton," Fudge announced.
In the gallery, Red whispered to Harry that Acton was a respectable and trustworthy man; what he was about to say would probably be for their benefit.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Acton said, "while I admit that Crouch and Bagnold should be brought in to face the consequences of their negligence, there is another party that should be brought forward for his involvement in the incident in question."
"And who might this person be?" Dumbledore asked.
Acton smirked.
"Why, none other than our Chief Warlock."
There was some outraged spluttering from the Dumbledore supporters that was quickly silenced.
"Lord Acton," Amelia said, "could you explain?"
"Simple, Madam Bones," Acton continued. "Chief Warlock, is it not your responsibility to see to it that every person brought in by the Aurors receives a trial?"
"Well, I…" Dumbledore started.
"And, was it not explicitly mentioned in the Potter will, to which you were a witness, that it was Pettigrew, not Black, who was the Secret-Keeper?"
"Well, yes, but…"
"If that is the case, why did you not see to it that Mr. Black received this trial twelve years ago?"
"It was a hectic time for all of us!" Dumbledore shouted. "To say the least of all the work I had to do with my status as Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, as well as being Chief Warlock; I am up to my ears in work."
"Perhaps, then, it would be wise for you to relinquish some of those titles? I never did think it a good idea that one man should wield so much power. Even if he has good intentions, it does not change the fact that one individual is not capable of dealing with so much responsibility. Also, I would like to point out that Albus Dumbledore has failed to properly execute the Potter will. As the witness, he should have seen to it that the benefactors received their due, as well as seen to it that the Potter Heir was placed with one of the designated guardians; which I do not believe has happened."
"Mr. Potter," Amelia Bones turned to the stand, "could you please come forward?"
Harry stood up and moved to address those assembled.
"Yes, Madam Bones?" he asked.
"Do you reside with any of the approved guardians on the list mentioned in your parents' will?"
"No, ma'am."
"Who is it that you do reside with?"
"My mother's sister and her family."
"How is it that you came to be there?"
"The Headmaster-excuse me-the Chief Warlock, placed me on the doorstep of their house the day after my parents were killed."
"What is your opinion of your relatives as care-givers?"
"Well, ma'am, I would prefer if my statements be given in private and that there be an examination of my medical records. All the evidence should indicate what kind of 'care-givers' the Dursleys are."
The bitterness in his tone had many people look about uncertainly.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, we shall ask for your statements later," Amelia dismissed him back to his seat. "I move that, in light of the current evidence, Albus Dumbledore needs to decide which obligation is most important to him as he should not have all the ones that he currently possesses."
"Amelia," Dumbledore protested, "I really don't think this is-"
"While we are in court, you are to refer to me as 'Madam Bones,'" she snapped.
"Very well, Madam Bones; is this really necessary?"
"Yes, it is. There will be a full enquiry about this on Saturday. There will also be an investigation into the matter of your usurpation of the status of Magical Guardian for Harry James Potter and what exactly your actions caused.
"As for the case of Sirius Orion Black," she continued, "All those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"
Just about everyone raised their illuminated wands in support. The Death Eaters chose not to give a response in order to save face. With that decision made, Fudge spoke up.
"Sirius Orion Black, you have been found not-guilty and are cleared of all charges. We would also like to offer restitution. As you were never actually dismissed from the Aurors, we grant you all the wages you are owed as if you were working 24/7 for twelve years. Furthermore, in light of the contents of the Potter will, you are named as the legal guardian for Harry James Potter. You may claim this guardianship after being checked by a Mind-Healer at St. Mungo's to deal with the after-effects of your illegal stay in Azkaban, at no cost to you."
"Thank you, Minister," Sirius said. "I would also like to request that the fine for an illegal Animagus be taken from my reimbursement and to go through the process of registering with the Ministry." Many people nodded approvingly at Sirius' statement. "I would also like to go on record offering my thanks to the present Ministry administration for overseeing that justice was done today."
Fudge seemed to puff up at the good publicity this would garner for him. Red and Harry exchanged secret smiles; everything was going just as planned. Fudge would eat up the praise and would certainly try to get on good terms with the newly-acquitted Lord Black.
The court being dismissed, Harry decided to make a show of approaching Sirius who pulled him into a hug and tearfully declared how sorry he was for letting him down by chasing after Pettigrew. The action caused quite a stir with the Press, but Red stepped in and snapped at all the reporters that only one media outlet had the paid rights to Mr. Potter's name and image and that there would be a lawsuit for anyone who printed anything without Mr. Potter's consent. Of course, that declaration didn't stop the 'aw's that came from the elderly women present who saw the joyous reunion of a young man and his godfather. Before Sirius and Harry left, they were accosted by Lord Acton who requested that Sirius come round for tea some time. Naturally, Sirius said he would be happy to.
The following day, Harry and Sirius were escorted to St. Mungo's Hospital, courtesy of Red and her Chevrolet. Sirius needed to go on a potions regimen to restore his health; he was also instructed to see a Mind-Healer at least once a week to deal with the trauma of twelve years in Azkaban. Seeing as they were there anyway, Harry was taken for a routine check-up. Healer Mondegreen, who met with Harry, was shocked to discover the boy's condition. Not only had Harry not received standard vaccinations, he also had physical evidence of abuse, including malnourishment and scars; there also seemed to be a binding on his magic that needed to be immediately removed as well as various illegal enchantments such as a ward against mail from anyone other than several persons. Needless to say, those medical records soon found their way into the hands of Amelia Bones.
In a magazine called The Quibbler, a new article was published. Beneath a photograph of a rather nervous-looking Albus Dumbledore was a heading that read:
Dumbledore: Demented or Dark?
By Xenophilius Lovegood
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is known throughout the magical community for his many achievements; the most famous of which was his defeat of the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald in 1945. Dumbledore has had a sterling history as a professor (and later Headmaster) at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.
However, could the power that this great man possesses have finally gone to his head?
No witch or wizard in the history of magical Britain has ever had as much power or influence as Mr. Dumbledore. This leaves one to wonder if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
At the recent trial of Sirius Orion Black, who was proven to have been innocent all along, it was indicated that Dumbledore was involved in the illegal incarceration twelve years ago. Suspicions were aroused when the Potter will was presented as evidence; the will mentioned specifically that it was Peter Pettigrew who was the Secret-Keeper and not Black. What then followed was a list of families who were deemed suitable guardians for the Potters' infant son, Harry James Potter. The will was witnessed by none other than Albus Dumbledore.
If Albus Dumbledore knew that Black was innocent, why didn't he get him a trial?
Upon being questioned, Dumbledore asserted that "it was a hectic time" and that he was "too busy."
Something seems fishy here.
The Potter will also states, quite forcefully, that Harry Potter was to never be placed with his mother's Muggle relatives.
So, what happened?
Dumbledore, who witnessed and sealed the will, had himself declared as young Harry's Magical Guardian and then dumped the savior of the wizarding world on the doorstep of his Muggle relatives' house with nothing more than a letter.
This gross negligence certainly didn't fly with the Ministry when it came out at the trial. Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, called for an enquiry that would see Albus Dumbledore choose which of his responsibilities was most important to him as having the position as Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, and Headmaster of Hogwarts is too much for one man to handle.
Then, of course, there is what else was revealed at the enquiry regarding Albus Dumbledore's guardianship of Harry Potter.
Not only had Dumbledore not followed through with the instructions in the Potter will, he also committed an act of child endangerment. The reason Harry Potter was never to go to his Muggle relatives was because Lily Potter (nee Evans) was in dispute with her sister Petunia because of the latter's hatred of magic. Petunia Dursley (nee Evans) had made it perfectly clear what she thinks about the magical world, and that opinion was inflicted on an innocent child for twelve years.
At the enquiry, a record of Harry Potter's medical files was presented. It turns out there was only one documented visit by Mr. Potter to St. Mungo's for a standard check-up since he was placed with his relatives; this one visit took place the day after the trial of Sirius Black when young Harry had decided to escort his godfather to the hospital to receive treatment for his time in Azkaban. While there, young Mr. Potter decided to have his own health checked and the finds were startling. Healer Mondegreen, who gave Mr. Potter his check-up, was released from his Healer's Oath and permitted to give a statement regarding his patient.
"I never saw it coming," said Mondegreen. "The boy had all the signs of abuse. There were small signs, such as malnourishment, and larger, direr evidence. From what I saw, Mr. Potter had various bones that had been broken and then healed incorrectly; the age of the injuries pre-dates Mr. Potter's eighth birthday. It was also apparent that Mr. Potter's nose has been broken numerous times over a seven year time period. Then there were the scars; and I don't mean the tell-tale one on his forehead. From what I could see, someone had beaten the lad with a belt…regularly. The fact that Mr. Potter wears glasses is not owed to a hereditary trait as one would believe; it seems that his eyesight was damaged through spending excessive periods of time in a small, dark space; this was followed by incorrectly-prescribed glasses that only damaged his vision further."
But this wasn't all. What Healer Mondegreen then discovered is truly shocking.
"There was a powerful set of binding on his magical core. We all know that some magical parents place binding on their children to keep down their accidental magic; however, this went far beyond the norm. This binding limited Mr. Potter's magical power levels by ninety-five percent. The fact that Mr. Potter should have little more power than a Squib and yet works at an average power level is nothing short of startling. Once I unbound the lad's core, I discovered something truly fascinating. It seems our dear Mr. Potter is a Metamorphmagus."
(For those who do not know what a Metamorphmagus is, see page 20)
"There were also a series of illegal spells on Mr. Potter; including a tracking charm, a health-monitoring charm, and an anti-mail ward. There was also a type of ward I couldn't identify that had an origin in Blood Magic."
If the nature of these illegal charms and wards is any indication, it is likely that Albus Dumbledore was the one to place them; this also means that he knew what was happening to Mr. Potter.
This leaves us with a question.
Is Dumbledore going senile or turning Dark?
For information about Albus Dumbledore, see page 40
For a personal interview with Harry Potter about his life, see page 17
For details about the trial of Sirius Black, see page 12
Mr. Lovegood soon found himself in need of buying a new printing press from how his magazine was selling these days. Entering into that deal with Harry Potter was possibly the best business decision Xenophilius had ever made.
Chapter 7
That Tomato's Just Ejected Itself!
In the end, Albus Dumbledore decided that his role as Headmaster of Hogwarts took primary importance; although, he was beginning to feel as though even that position would soon be snatched from him (at least, that was what he interpreted from the looks that Amelia Bones kept shooting him). A very strict, middle-aged man named Arthur Aldridge was appointed as the new Chief Warlock, and a cheerful lady named Mrs. G. Crump was appointed the Supreme Mugwump (the first woman to ever hold the title).
Albus Dumbledore soon found himself back in his Hogwarts office puzzling about how things had gone so awry and being shouted at by three of his four Heads of House about what he was thinking. Snape was…Snape, and merely made snide comments about Harry Potter's arrogance that drove the Head of Gryffindor through the roof and initiated her Mother Lioness mode. Lately, Minerva McGonagall had begun to question her loyalty to 'the great Albus Dumbledore' and his decisions; what she figured out was that blindly following Albus had nearly gotten some of her students killed.
"The Stone cannot possibly be stolen, Minerva," McGonagall repeated the memory to herself once she was in the confines of her private rooms. "If anyone mentions it, just ignore it." She shook her head. "That stupid, stupid man." She turned to the bottle of Scotch on her desk. "I've let my students down for the last time. This year, I'm going to keep my eyes and ears open."
Meanwhile beneath the floors of Gringotts, Director Ragnok was meeting with his secretary, Sharptooth.
"Has Mr. Dumbledore returned those Potter heirlooms and the stolen money yet?" Ragnok asked.
"Mr. Dumbledore says that he is not currently in the position to return the 'borrowed' funds," Sharptooth replied with contempt. "He also insists that he does not have the heirlooms."
Ragnok glared.
"If there's one thing I hate as much as a thief, it's a liar," he growled.
"When shall we make our move, sir?"
"Not yet. Soon though. We shall make our stand when the old fool doesn't expect us." Ragnok was silent for a minute. "It is imperative that we retrieve those Potter heirlooms. Among them was Mr. Potter's family grimoire. It's lucky that that book will only open for a Potter; otherwise, the old fool would have access to magic that, in the wrong hands, could destroy the world as we know it."
Both goblins shuddered.
"As for the money," Ragnok continued, "Inform Mr. Dumbledore that if he refuses to pay up, we will simply seize his personal vault and all its contents."
"What about Molly Weasley?" Sharptooth inquired. "She has been illegally receiving money from Mr. Potter's vault through Albus Dumbledore."
"Mr. Potter informed me that he wishes to deal with the Weasleys on his own terms." There was another pause.
"When should we expect Mr. Potter to take up his role as Lord Potter? To say the least of his other titles."
"Mr. Potter informed me of that as well. He says he would like to finish this year before taking up the mantle of Lord. He said he wanted one normal year before he had to do anything too serious. I think we can respect that, don't you?"
"Yes, sir." Sharptooth turned to leave, then stopped. "Sir? Do you really believe Mr. Potter is the one mentioned in the ancient texts? The one destined to bring peace to magical Britain?"
"If there is ever going to be a Chosen One, Mr. Potter is it."
Hermione's response to Harry's letter arrived not long after.
Dear Harry, it read,
Well, you certainly seem to have been keeping busy. I am happy that you found out about your godfather, Harry. I could tell that you don't care much for those relatives of yours, so, congratulations. You were right, I was definitely surprised by your ability to predict how I would react to your news (but don't think you've gotten out of a telling-off for blowing up your aunt).
My summer has actually been very splendid. My parents and I have just spent a week in Paris; we are actually coming back to England in a few days so I will be more than happy to tell you about what my holiday was like.
Harry James Potter, don't you dare think that you are a bad friend. You are the first friend I ever had and I am honored that you consider me to be your best friend; although, I always thought that Ron was your best friend.
I am delighted that you have decided to make more effort with your studies; you are a very smart person and it bothers me that you haven't tried harder to reach your full potential. I think I might just take you up on your offering of books; but not because I feel you need to make amends for anything (it's simply because I love books, and you know it).
So you want to know a bit more about me? Well…
Hermione's letter then progressed into an assortment of details about herself; things like her favorite color or foods, and things of that nature. She didn't give away too much about her personal life or childhood experiences as she was still rather hesitant to talk about that.
About a week after Sirius' trial, Hermione and Ron accosted Harry outside Florean Fortescue's. Harry had to fight the sudden urge to attack Ron; if not for what he was going to do, then certainly for being a double-crossing bastard in what he'd already done. Unlike what happened last time, when Harry saw Hermione, he pulled her into a hug that caught her slightly off-guard.
"It's good to see you," he said.
"Missed you, too," said Hermione. "But don't think I've let you off for blowing up your aunt."
"Aww," Harry mock-whined, "But, Hermione…"
Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. Ron then decided to butt-in.
"I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I ever blew up my aunt," Ron said. "Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Well, anyway, Harry," Ron slung his arm around Harry's shoulder and Harry grit his teeth in annoyance, "We're all staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione's there, too. So, you can come with us to King's Cross tomorrow."
"Oh, uh," Harry replied, trying to force back the biting comment on the tip of his tongue. "I would, Ron, but I've already made other plans."
"What?" Ron said in a shocked voice.
"Well, you know, my godfather, Sirius Black, was just acquitted and he promised to take me there tomorrow."
"Oh, yeah," Ron said, "I heard about Black. Can't believe the git wormed his way out of Azkaban. I bet he did what Malfoy did and bribed everyone."
Harry was feeling an immense desire to punch Ron in the face.
"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione snapped, "didn't you read the paper? Black was tried under Veritaserum and it was proven that he was innocent. Besides, Harry just said that Sirius Black is his godfather. And I mentioned, over and over, that Harry had already assured me he believed in his innocence."
Ron just muttered something about Hermione being 'mental.'
"Besides, Ron," Harry added, a note of annoyance in his voice, "I was at the trial myself. I saw everything that happened."
Ron rolled his eyes and had an expression on his face as if he were trying to explain something simple to a very stupid child. Harry's desire to punch Ron was only growing by the minute.
The conversation of the last timeline followed but with some differences; Hermione was very pleased that Harry decided to take Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but Ron complained loudly that Harry wasn't going to be with him in Divination.
"I just felt that Divination was a bit dodgy. After all, I seem to remember someone saying in first year that McGonagall told her about how woolly a subject it is."
Hermione gave Harry a playful whack on the arm. The conversation then turned to Hermione's interest in buying a pet. Harry once again had to restrain himself, this time from grabbing Pettigrew (who was looking even paler and thinner than in the last timeline; probably because Sirius was a free man and had informed the Aurors about him being an Animagus); but Harry had a plan and Sirius knew where to be when they acted. After they went off to Magical Menagerie, where Hermione purchased Crookshanks, the three headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron.
"You bought that monster?" Ron said in a disgusted tone.
"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Hermione replied.
"Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!" said Ron.
"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" said Hermione.
It began to dawn on Harry that Crookshanks might have known that it wasn't just Scabbers who was untrustworthy. From what he remembered, the cat never really did like Ron.
"And what about Scabbers?" said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"
"That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic," said Hermione, slapping the small red bottle into Ron's hand. "And stop worrying. Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him."
"Wonder why," said Ron sarcastically.
"Ron, there's no need to be rude," Harry said. "As far as I know, Hermione's decisions have tended to be good ones. Well, with the exception of believing those stupid Lockhart books; but, other than that, I feel she has always been very sensible."
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said. Harry looked Hermione in the eyes for a moment and he saw that his words really had meant a great deal to her.
Ron, on the other hand, was looking thoroughly miffed. For one of the first times ever in their friendship, Harry had taken Hermione's side over his.
They entered the Leaky Cauldron and Harry was immediately greeted by the other Weasleys.
"Harry, how nice to see you," Percy Weasley greeted him.
"Hello, Percy," Harry replied politely as he shook the older boy's hand. "Congratulations on making Head Boy, by the way."
"Thank you, Harry."
"Harry!" Fred exclaimed, pushing Percy out of the way. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy-"
"Marvelous," George added, "absolutely spiffing!"
"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Mum!" said Fred, as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand, too. "How really corking to see you-"
"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley. "Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!" she said, swelling with pride.
"And last," Fred muttered under his breath.
"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."
"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."
"You know, my dad was a Head Boy," Harry said, "and from what I've heard he still knew how to have fun."
"Really?" Fred inquired.
"Yeah, he and his three friends were quite notorious pranksters, and one them was a prefect."
"You're joking?" George said.
"They had some sort of name for their group. What was it? Oh yeah, the 'Marauders' I believe they called themselves."
Fred and George exchanged looks of shock and awe.
"They even had their own nicknames," Harry continued, "I seem to recall that my dad was called 'Prongs.'"
Fred and George then began to mock-bow to Harry.
"We are not worthy, oh great son of Prongs," they said, "Heir of the Marauders, the purveyors of mischief, our great mentors."
People were exchanging confused glances at that point.
"You know," Harry whispered to the twins, "I might just be able to arrange it so that you guys can meet Padfoot and Moony."
"You'd really do that-"
"For us, Harrikins?"
"Of course; you guys are my friends." Harry knew that Fred and George would probably sell their souls to him for the chance to meet at least one of the Marauders. It was only natural that the Marauder's Map soon found its way into Harry's possession.
Dinner was very pleasant, just like the last time; although, this time, Harry was able to figure out there was something going on when Mrs. Weasley had him sit next to Ginny and Hermione next to Ron.
Could the old bint be more obvious? Harry thought contemptuously.
"So, Harry," Arthur said in a pleasant manner, "how's your summer been, so far?"
"It got a lot better after I left the Dursleys," he replied. "I decided to address some problems with my life and got legal representation from the magical law firm of Bayly, Black, and Prewett."
"Oh, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley spoke up, "I don't see why a boy your age needs to be getting involved in legal nonsense like that."
"Well, Josiah Prewett has been very helpful in my financial matters, Mrs. Weasley." Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley flinched when he mentioned the name of her Squib cousin.
"Hey, Mum," Fred added, "isn't Josiah Prewett your cousin?"
"Well, yes," she admitted grudgingly. "But we don't really talk that much. He is a very bitter man who was jealous because he and his parents were Squibs."
"Mr. Prewett didn't seem very bitter, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "He's perfectly happy working as an accountant at the firm. He also introduced me to his son, Elijah, who has actually shown some magical potential and may get a Hogwarts letter in a few years."
"Hey, maybe we could meet him," George suggested.
"It would be a nice chance to learn about the legal world as well as get to know more of our family," Percy added.
"Boys," Mrs. Weasley said anxiously, "don't get your hopes up. Josiah and I haven't spoken in years and I doubt that is likely to change."
The boys looked rather disappointed, but Harry whispered to George that he would see what he could do to arrange a meeting. As dinner progressed, Harry couldn't help but notice the subtle glances that Mrs. Weasley kept shooting at him and Ginny; it was really starting to grate on his nerves. Harry really hoped Sirius would hurry up.
Sure enough, Sirius appeared in the stairwell and immediately spotted Pettigrew at the table.
"There he is!" Sirius shouted and pointed towards the rat.
Peter, realizing the jig was up, wriggled free of Ron's hand and began to scurry away as fast as he could
"Stop him! Don't let him escape!"
It turned out that Hermione's decision to purchase Crookshanks was indeed a good one. The ginger-haired part-kneazle darted after the fleeing rat and snatched him by the tail right before he could escape through a hole in the wall. Throughout all of this, Ron had been vehemently shouting about why a crazy man was trying to kill Scabbers. Crookshanks carried the frantically struggling rodent over to Sirius who immediately performed the spell that forces Animagi to reveal themselves. Sure enough, there was the balding little man who had betrayed so many people standing before the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron.
"Who the bloody hell is that?!" Arthur shouted, realizing now that a strange man had been living in his home for twelve years.
"A sniveling, little, rat-faced git," Sirius replied, "Also known as Peter Pettigrew."
"Someone call the Aurors!" Molly shrieked.
About ten minutes later, Peter was being hauled off to a Ministry holding-cell. Once everyone had calmed down, Harry turned to the Weasleys and said:
"By the way, this is my godfather, Sirius Black; also known as Padfoot."
The following morning saw everyone off to Kings Cross. Sirius had decided to escort Harry to the station himself; something Harry was grateful for as the Weasleys were notorious for their inability to get there on time. Harry had invited Hermione to come with him and Sirius, so as to avoid being late; something which she readily agreed to.
At the train station, Harry headed towards the compartment where he remembered Remus Lupin would be. Harry had done some thinking about his relationship with Remus in the other timeline and it led to Harry coming up with a number of questions. Questions he was most eager to have answered. He wanted, most of all, to know why Remus hadn't tried to seek him out if he was supposed to be such a good friend of his parents. Harry didn't know that his questions would be answered without even having to ask them.
Remus was, understandably, rather emotional during his reunion with Sirius. He apologized profusely for ever believing Sirius was capable of betraying James and Lily. Sirius responded with his own apology for suspecting Remus.
"Harry," Sirius said, "This is Remus Lupin, an old friend of mine and your parents'."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin," Harry said.
"It's nice to finally see you again, Harry," Remus said with a rather sad and guilty expression. "I would like to apologize to you as well." He gave a slight sigh. "I apologize for never seeking you out years ago. Your parents were two of my best friends and yet I let down their only son." Remus paused. "Once I had heard of your parents' deaths, I had, in fact, gone to Professor Dumbledore and asked about you. He had told me that you were safe and that he had placed you with a decent family." Remus' eyes darkened. "I pressed that, as a friend of your parents, I should be the one to raise you. But Dumbledore said that it was not what James and Lily had stated in their will. Not long after that, a certain bill was passed by the Wizengamot that made it impossible for…ehem, for someone like me to look after you.
"After that, I went back to Dumbledore and asked where he had sent you. I wanted to at least be able to see for myself that you were all right." Remus gave a dark chuckle. "The old man said that there was no need for it. He then brought up, very subtly, the fact that I owed him a great deal and I dropped the issue. I tried for several years to find out where it was that you lived; all that I managed to gather, though, was that you were living with Muggles. Had I known…" He trailed off for a moment then shook his head sadly. "I tried sending you numerous letters, but the owl always returned almost immediately after. Once I read that article in The Quibbler about the anti-mail wards, I knew that must have been the reason." He looked Harry straight in the eyes and the teenager could see years of regrets in them. "I am truly sorry how much I failed you, Harry. Do you think you could ever forgive me?"
Harry gave Remus a warm smile.
"I think I can, Moony," Harry said.
Seeing as there was no further need for the dementors to hang around the school, the incident on the train never happened. Fred and George also got to meet yet another of their heroes and spent just as much time hounding Remus as they had done to Sirius the night before. As the train got moving, Harry decided to get up and go look for Luna and ask her to join them.
"Where are you going, Harry?" Ron asked
"Going to find someone I met in Diagon Alley," he replied.
Ron gave him a curious glance, which he ignored. It didn't take Harry long to find Luna; she was sitting by herself and was reading a copy of The Quibbler upside-down. Harry slid open the door of the compartment and stepped inside.
"Hey, Luna," he said. "How are you?"
"Oh, hello, Harry," she replied dreamily. "I'm fine."
"Why are you sitting by yourself?"
"Oh, it's no problem but not a lot of people want to hang around me."
"Well, if you want, you're more than welcome to come and sit in my compartment with my other friends."
"Alright, then." She sounded a bit more cheerful than before. "Is it true you're friends with Ronald Weasley?"
"Um, sort of."
"You should be careful around him; he has a nasty case of wrackspurts."
"I noticed."
"Ronald and Ginevra have both had wrackspurts for a long time."
"Oh, you know Ron and Ginny already?"
"Yes, I live just over the hill from them. Ronald nicknamed me 'Looney Lovegood' when we were little."
"That's not very nice. Don't worry, Luna; if he calls you that, I'll tell him off."
"Thank you, Harry."
Unbeknownst to Harry, the young blonde girl had started to blush at his promise. No one but her daddy had ever defended her before.
Harry led her to the compartment; Fred and George had since left and the compartment now had only Ron, Hermione, and Lupin. When Ron saw who was with Harry, he cringed.
"Harry," Ron began to whisper loudly to Harry; probably with the intention of having everyone else hear, "what are you doing with Looney Lovegood?"
"Her name's Luna and she's my friend, Ron," Harry hissed. "Don't you dare make fun of her."
After a little while, Remus excused himself to go speak with the driver.
Hermione decided to make Luna feel welcome, despite being a little off-put by the younger girl's eccentric personality. Ron refused to stop scowling, and whenever he spoke he had an attitude that plainly indicated he didn't want her around. Eventually, the group was joined by Neville, whom Harry gladly welcomed.
"Oh, Harry," Neville said, "I really owe you a huge thank you for telling me about wands. When I explained to Gran what you told me about how wands are supposed to choose the wizard, she took me to Ollivander's to check. And now…" He proudly held up his new wand. "Cherry, thirteen inches, with unicorn hair core."
"If you don't mind my asking, why didn't you already have your own wand, Neville?" Hermione asked.
Neville began to blush a bit.
"I-I was using my dad's wand. Gran made me use it the past two years because she thought that if it was good enough for my dad that it would be good enough for me."
"Why were you using your dad's wand, won't he need it?" Ron asked tactlessly.
"Ron," Harry snapped as he gave the red-head a slight whack upside the head. "That's a personal question and he might not want to answer it."
"Bloody hell, Harry, when did you turn into Hermione?"
Neville gave Harry a grateful look and Hermione glared at Ron.
"Congratulations, Neville," Harry said. "Knowing that you could do magic with a wand that wasn't your own is a good sign that you're probably quite powerful."
"Th-Thanks, Harry."
A few minutes later and they were interrupted by three very unwelcome guests.
"Well, look who it is," Malfoy sneered, "Potty and the Weasel. I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley; did your mother die of shock?"
"Malfoy, your jokes get more childish every year," Harry said without even looking up at his archenemy's appearance.
"Shut up, Potter; you think you're lucky just because Black's not out to kill you?"
"No, but I am lucky because Sirius is my godfather and the official Head of the House of Black of which your mother is a member. Should he so wish, my godfather could have your parents' marriage dissolved and kick both you and your mother out of the Black family; what exactly would that mean for you, Malfoy?"
Draco looked, if possible, even paler than usual. If Black did what Potter suggested, then Draco would be a bastard with no name. However, Draco was not known for his brains and decided to pull out his wand to threaten Harry. Unfortunately for Draco, Harry had learned a thing or two. In a sudden crack and a flash of light, Draco Malfoy was replaced by a white ferret. There was a deafening silence before raucous laughter filled the entire compartment.
"Harry," Hermione said, her tone demanding, "that was very irresponsible and…how did you do that advanced a transfiguration?"
"I'll tell you later," he said with a shrug. He then bent down and picked up the struggling ferret. "So, Malfoy, have you learned your lesson?" The ferret nodded frantically. "Very well, then."
With a flick of his wand, Harry returned Malfoy to his human state. Now that he realized it would be a bad idea to further aggravate Potter, Malfoy and his goons left as quickly as they could.
"Bloody hell, Harry; that was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.
"I have to admit," Hermione added, "that was very impressive magic. How did you do that, Harry?"
"I got some practice during the summer."
"But…we're not allowed to use magic outside of school."
"That's what they want you to think. You see, we have something called the Trace that is put on us until we're seventeen that reports use of magic to the Ministry. However, the Trace only shows if magic is used around an underage witch or wizard; it doesn't show who used magic. That's why I got in trouble last summer when Dobby used magic at my relatives' house."
By now, everyone was listening intently; including Luna, though she didn't look it.
"So, what you're saying is that we can use magic in a place where there are other witches or wizards, and we won't get in trouble?" Hermione asked.
"Well, that or you practice in a heavily warded house. With the right kind of wards, even a Muggle household is a safe place to do magic."
Hermione's eyes were wide and sparkling; Harry knew she was silently pleading with him to find out how to get those wards set up for her. Harry gave a bemused sigh.
"Yes, Hermione, I will contact some people who can ward your house."
Without warning, Hermione launched herself at Harry and hugged him.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can finally show my parents what I've been learning at school."
"You're welcome, Hermione. I was going to suggest it anyway. Having your home warded is good for other things, too. I got a catalogue from a really great warding company. You want to see it?"
"Yes!"
Harry withdrew a large, paper compendium entitled Bulwark's Warding Company that was immediately snatched from his hands by a very enthusiastic Hermione. Harry noticed the girl's eyes were glazed-over as she read every word before her. Ron was giving Hermione a disgusted look, as though he couldn't understand why anyone would want to read something they didn't have to.
It wasn't long before the train pulled into the familiar site of Hogsmeade Station. Harry was very curious about whether or not he would be able to see the thestrals. Sure enough, when the students approached the waiting carriages, there were the skeletal-looking, winged horses. Tentatively, Harry reached out a hand and patted one of the creatures on the snout.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.
"Petting the thestrals," he responded.
"The what?"
"I can see them, too," Luna interjected.
Ron swirled a finger around next to his head to imply something about Luna's sanity.
"Harry," Hermione continued, "there's nothing there. The carriages pull themselves."
"Actually, Hermione," Neville spoke up, "I see it as well; it's sort of a skeleton horse thing."
"Thestrals," Luna repeated, "they can only be seen by those who've seen death."
Hermione looked instantly embarrassed while Ron just seemed to be getting impatient.
"Whatever," the red-head said, "can we just get in the carriage? I'm starving."
Harry, still very much the gentleman, offered Hermione and then Luna a hand into the carriage. Once they were all inside the vehicle, the thestrals began to move forward.
"This carriage smells funny," Ron complained.
It was true; the carriage had a faintly moldy smell to it. Note to self, Harry thought, have the carriages refurbished.
It had started to rain by the time the carriages pulled up outside the entrance hall. Ron and Neville were the first ones out, followed by Harry who gave the girls a hand down. As they were heading in, McGonagall called Hermione over for a quick word. A minute later, Hermione had rejoined them.
"What was that about?" Ron asked.
"Oh, nothing," Hermione answered with a smile.
Harry smirked knowingly.
"Well, it's almost time for the Sorting; let's get to our seats," he said.
Luna gave them a parting wave as they split up to go to their own House tables. Soon enough, the line of first-years entered.
"Did we ever look that terrified when we were that little?" Harry asked jokingly.
"You might have," Hermione replied.
Professor McGonagall brought forth the Sorting Hat and placed it on the stool. The rip near the brim of the Sorting Hat appeared and the ancient artefact burst into song.
"Immanuel Kant was real pissant
Who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table.
David Hume could out-consume
Schopenhauer and Hegel.
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed…
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away;
Half a crate of whiskey every day.
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
Hobbes was fond of his dram,
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart: "I drink, therefore I am."
Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed;
A lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed."
By the end of the song, a large number of Muggle-born and half-blood students were in hysterics and applauding wildly. Almost every pure-blood in the room was confused, but most clapped politely.
"I didn't get it," Fred said.
"The song was making fun of famous Muggle intellectuals," Hermione replied through her laughter. "It implies that all the famous philosophers were drunks."
"Which probably isn't that far from the truth," Harry said with a smirk. "Though, I wish the hat had mentioned Diogenes the Cynic. He was a Greek philosopher who believed so strongly in the wickedness of material possessions that he spent much of his life living naked in a barrel."
Fred and George were looking at Harry in a way that suggested they weren't sure whether or not he was having them on.
"Harry, how do you know so much about Greek philosophers?" Hermione asked.
"Well, you have to know these things when you're the Boy-Who-Lived, you know," he replied with a shrug.
Thirty or so minutes later, the students were sorted and the feast was begun.
Yes, Harry thought, it's good to be home.
Chapter 8
The Lion Is In the Contract
Years of waking up early had trained Harry Potter to be wide awake just before the sun came up. Harry had decided, just before vacation ended, that he would start working out so that he wouldn't be so skinny; it seems that being a Metamorphmagus does not mean that you can automatically be in shape even if you can make yourself look it. Red had helped him pick out some fitness clothes and sneakers when they had gone shopping; so, a quick change of clothes later, Harry was out the common room entrance and down to the lake to start a morning jog. It was actually quite refreshing and really helped him clear his head. When he was younger, Harry ran quite a lot (mostly due to his need to escape Dudley and his gang), and, from Harry's experience, running actually was helpful in life-or-death situations. Breakfast was already being served once Harry had finished his jog; however, Harry was one of the first people down. Soon enough, students and faculty filtered into the Great Hall.
Harry had anticipated his outfit causing trouble; and so, as expected, Professor McGonagall came straight over to him.
"Mr. Potter, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Having breakfast, Professor," he answered cheerily.
"No, Mr. Potter, I mean your clothes. Why are you not in uniform?"
"Well, Professor, the Student Rulebook says that we have to wear our uniforms to class, feasts, and school functions. I am dressed this way because I have just finished my morning exercise; I assure you that I will change clothes before I head off for class."
McGonagall pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment before nodding in consent.
"Very well, Mr. Potter; carry on."
Naturally, Harry's different attire garnered further questioning from his housemates. Many of the other Gryffindors couldn't fathom why Harry would get up so early and exercise for fun.
"It's the same reason Wood has us up before dawn to practice Quidditch," he replied. "I'm sure there are plenty of people who consider doing that to be ridiculous."
Hermione seemed quite pleased that Harry had decided to start exercising as it was very good for his health; although, she seemed rather reluctant to take up Harry's invitation to join him on his morning excursions.
During breakfast, a couple of people approached Harry about the Quibbler article to ask if it was true that he was a Metamorphmagus. Harry responded by making his hair turn bright red, much to the amusement of his fellow Gryffindors. Fred and George exchanged looks, silently agreeing that Harry would indeed be an excellent prankster and that they should enlist him in an upcoming prank of theirs.
Harry finished his breakfast, told Hermione he would meet her outside the common room so they could head off to Arithmancy together, and set off in search of a shower and a change of clothes. When Harry arrived at the dormitory, he saw that Ron was still asleep. Deciding to be a good friend to the carrot-topped garbage-disposal (though Ron didn't really deserve it), Harry shouted at the top of his lungs: "Ron! Wake up if you want to get breakfast before class starts!"
It surprised Harry just how quickly Ron could move with the right motivation.
A shower and change of clothes later, Harry made his way downstairs to find Hermione. The bushy-haired girl was practically skipping with excitement as they made their way through the halls.
"So," Harry said, "where is the Arithmancy classroom?"
Hermione's excitement dwindled for a moment when she realized she wasn't exactly sure. They wandered about for a while before they met up with a few others who seemed rather lost; Harry recognized them as Daphne Greengrass and her friend Tracey Davis.
"Hi, Daphne," Harry said with a friendly wave.
"Oh, hello, Harry," Daphne responded somewhat uncertainly.
Hermione was giving Harry a weird look; never before had Harry shown any familiarity with Slytherins.
"It's nice to see you again," Harry continued and then turned to Tracey. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure?"
"Tracey Davis. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter," Tracey greeted as she offered her hand and grinned at her friend. Harry took the offered hand and placed a gentle kiss on the top.
"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Davis."
"Oh, he's definitely a keeper," Tracey whispered to Daphne who was blushing slightly.
"So," Harry continued, "may I ask where you lovely ladies are headed?"
"Arithmancy class," Daphne answered, "But we're completely lost."
"What a coincidence, so are we. Perhaps we should all be lost together?"
Daphne and Tracey chuckled while Hermione just rolled her eyes at Harry's blatant flirting; though it didn't stop a bemused smile forming on her face. It was nice to see Harry cheerful for once; she hated it when he went all morose and depressed.
As the group made their way around, Harry noticed a very familiar painting.
"What villains are these who trespass on my private lands?" Sir Cadogan demanded. "Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"
"Good sir knight," Harry said in a mock-pompous tone. "We are in haste. We seek the Arithmancy classroom; would you, by any chance, happen to know the way?"
"A quest! Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!" The knight then tried and failed to mount the fat pony in the painting. "On foot, then, good sir and gentle ladies! On! On!"
Sir Cadogan led them through the many halls of Hogwarts until he finally stopped in a painting of a group of French knights, who jeered at passersby, that was just outside a classroom.
"So, we meet again, Engleesh pig-dog!" one of the Frenchmen declared.
"Aha!" Sir Cadogan proclaimed. "I wondered when I wouldst come upon you again, French-persons! Stand and fight!"
"You don' frighten us!" the Frenchman continued. "Go an' boil your bottom, son of a silly person! Your mozzer waz a 'amster an' your fazzer smelt of elderberreez!"
The Frenchman and his compatriots began to make silly faces and blow raspberries at Sir Cadogan who only became further enraged. Scowling, the portly knight turned to Harry and the girls.
"Follow me, good friends," he said, his voice heavy with vexation. "Just ignore these petulant foreigners."
"What is a portrait of French knights even doing in a British school?" said Tracey.
"Mind your own business!" shouted the French knight from before.
Sir Cadogan forcibly brushed past the French knights, being pelted with anything said Frenchmen could find as he did so.
"Yes, go, you Engleesh bed-wetting types," the Frenchman continued. "And if you zink you 'ad a nasty taunting zis time, you ain't 'eard nozzing yet! Pffffffftttttt!"
"What a strange person," Harry heard Hermione mutter as they left.
Sir Cadogan continued to lead the four students to the Arithmancy room. With a guffaw of triumph, he turned to them.
"Farewell!" he declared. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If you ever have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"
"Thank you, brave sir knight," Harry said, "Fare thee well." With a smug smile, Harry ushered the three, gobsmacked young ladies into the room.
"What on earth was that all about, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged.
"I just got the impression he would respond well to an olden-timey sort of conversation."
"I thought it was cute," Tracey said. "You sounded like a hero in an Arthurian legend."
The four took their seats just as the rest of the class entered. Harry recognized several students from DA, including Susan Bones and her friend Hannah Abbott. There was a large number of Ravenclaws, a couple more Hufflepuffs, three more Slytherins, and one other Gryffindor. The class quieted as Professor Vector entered. She was a strict-looking, middle-aged woman with long, black hair and was dressed in robes of dark red.
"Good morning, class," she said as she approached the chalkboard, "Welcome to Arithmancy. In this class, you will learn the magical power of numbers and their uses in the making of spells, the enchanting of objects, and, to a lesser extent, their use in divining the future. We will be studying two methods; the Agrippan Method and the Chaldean Method. If anyone in this class is a Muggle-born or has at least attended a Muggle school, you may find yourselves at an advantage owing to your education in Mathematics."
Harry's attention was immediately caught; in primary school, Math had been one of his favorite subjects. As the class got under way, Harry found he really enjoyed Arithmancy; he also found himself mentally hitting himself over the head for not taking this class in his previous timeline.
Harry was grinning by the time he and Hermione had to set off for Transfiguration. He gave a polite farewell to Daphne and Tracey, with the promise to see them in Care of Magical Creatures, and headed out.
Harry and Hermione took a seat at the front of the Transfiguration classroom (luckily, Harry already knew how to get there so they weren't late) and Hermione turned to face him.
"Well, that certainly was a fascinating class," she said.
"I'll say," Harry agreed. "I really am glad I chose that over Divination. When I was in Muggle school, Math was actually one of my favorite subjects."
"Mine, too; it was my second favorite; right above Science and right below History."
Slowly the classroom filled. Harry noticed that Ron was looking rather shaken and that the students from Divination all looked somber. Three guesses what happened, Harry thought. The class went much the same as before, only it was Ron and not Harry who was the subject of Trelawney's death omens. Harry enjoyed the class much more than last time; it was the one about Animagi.
When class finished, Harry went up to Professor McGonagall and asked if she had any information about becoming an Animagus; the Scottish Transfiguration teacher happily provided Harry with a series of Ministry pamphlets about the process.
"What do you think," Harry said as he and his friends headed down to lunch, "Wouldn't it be cool to become an Animagus?"
"Most definitely," Hermione agreed.
"Yeah," Ron added, not really listening. He still looked rather glum about his predicted death.
He was still scowling when they sat down to eat.
"Ron, cheer up," Hermione said as she passed him some stew. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."
Ron grumbled but accepted the offered food. Sure enough, the two got into an argument about Divination class.
"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared to my Arithmancy class!"
She snatched up her bag and marched out of the hall.
"What's she talking about?" Ron said. "She hasn't been to Arithmancy yet."
"Yes, she has, Ron," Harry stated. "I was there with her the entire time."
"But-but that's not possible! She'd have to be in two places at once!"
"Honestly, Ron, how can someone be in two places at once?" Harry said with a grin.
As the afternoon mail arrived, Harry's grin widened as Hedwig descended and dropped off several letters for him.
"Who's writing to you?" Ron asked.
"Nobody," Harry replied automatically.
Dear Mr. Potter, The first one read,
We have succeeded in contacting your new Potions instructor. Mr. Preston said that he would be delighted for the opportunity to teach you and that he would be more than willing to accept your classmates under his tutelage. He should be there tomorrow at about 7:30 am and will meet you in the Great Hall. We have also found a tutor in Magical Customs that you requested; she will be there on Friday at 5:00 pm.
Yours faithfully,
Frieda Bayly
Oh, P.S: You'll be pleased to know that the matter regarding Mr. Rubeus Hagrid that you informed us of has been sorted out with the Ministry and he should receive a letter by the end of the day.
The next one was from Libra Black.
Dear Mr. Potter,
You should be pleased to know that your petition for an Order of Restraint has been approved by both the Ministry of Magic and the non-magical court of law. By tomorrow morning, Mr. Severus Snape will receive an official statement informing him that he is to have no further contact with you.
Happy to be of service,
Yours sincerely,
Libra Black
The final letter was from Gringotts.
Dear Mr. Potter,
In response to your inquiry regarding the basilisk carcass, we at Gringotts have located experts on game and hunting who will arrive at Hogwarts this Saturday at 8:00 am. Once they have determined the value and removed the carcass, Gringotts will be more than happy to comply with your request that the money be awarded evenly to the victims. Messrs. Hank and Roy Spim were delighted to offer their services to your endeavor.
Yours etc.
Ragnok
Gringotts Senior Account Manager/Company Director
Harry quickly made his way back to the Gryffindor dormitory to retrieve his Monster Book of Monsters. When he entered the common room, he noticed a Gryffindor girl from his year fending off one of the demonic dissertations. She was actually handling the thing fairly well; she was standing on top of a small table as the thing snapped angrily from the ground; then, without warning, she jumped straight down onto it, crushing it beneath her feet. The text, now immobilized, was soon restrained by a thick belt.
"You know," Harry said to the girl, "if you stroke the book's spine, it will calm right down."
The girl looked at him in surprise for a moment, but then followed his advice. The book instantly stilled. Harry took a good look at the girl; she was a little taller than he was, her long, dark brown hair was somewhat disheveled, and her blue eyes looked at him with gratitude.
"Thanks," she said, "Some books, huh?"
"Yep. Hagrid probably thought they were funny. I'm Harry, by the way."
"If there was ever someone who didn't need an introduction, it would be you, Harry Potter," she replied with a cheeky grin. Harry noticed that she had a somewhat diluted Scottish accent; as though she had grown up around both Scottish and English people. "I'm Fay Dunbar." She offered a friendly hand which Harry accepted.
"So, you're in Care of Magical Creatures, as well?"
"Ay, I love animals so I thought it would be perfect for me. However, these monster books are making me have second thoughts. How'd you know how to stop them attacking?"
Harry gave a non-committal shrug.
"It just seemed like the most obvious thing to do. Would you care to join me on the walk down to class?"
"I'd love to."
Harry quickly ran upstairs to get his own book and together they set off. They met up with Ron and Hermione (who weren't speaking with each other) and together they arrived outside Hagrid's hut. Hagrid looked as enthusiastic for his first class as he had been in the other timeline.
"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"
They followed him out to the paddock where the hippogriffs were kept.
"Everyone gather 'round the fence here! Tha's it, make sure yeh can see! Now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books-"
"How?" the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy interrupted.
"Eh?"
"How do we open our books?"
"Just stroke the spine, of course," Harry said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world before presenting his own, unbound, book.
"Exac'ly!" Hagrid announced, clearly very pleased.
"Oh, how silly we've all been," Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess?!"
"Maybe you weren't clever enough to guess it, Malfoy," Harry replied smoothly.
"And how did you figure it out, Potter?"
"I used something that you seem to be sadly lacking. A brain."
Many people snickered at that; despite the fact that they themselves hadn't known what to do.
Hagrid, realizing trouble was brewing, decided to turn attention back to class.
"God, this place is going to the dogs," Malfoy sneered once Hagrid had gone to fetch the hippogriffs. "That oaf teaching classes; my father will have a fit when-"
"Malfoy, no one cares what your father does," Harry said. "And if you go crying to him for every little thing that doesn't go your way, I seriously doubt that will gain you respect."
Before Malfoy could retort, Lavender Brown let out an "ooooh!" when she saw the hippogriffs being led forward. Harry smiled when he saw Buckbeak; there was no way he would let either him or Hagrid get in trouble for Malfoy's carelessness. Of course, when Hagrid called for a volunteer, Harry stepped forward. Harry bowed low to Buckbeak, who bowed back; then came the exhilarating ride on the hippogriff that brought back a great deal of memories for Harry. When Buckbeak landed, Harry noticed that quite a few girls were looking at him with admiration and several boys looked at him with respect.
Harry paid close attention to Malfoy throughout the lesson; sure enough, the prat insulted Buckbeak and the hippogriff reared on its hind legs. Luckily, Harry had always been rather fast; so, before Buckbeak could take a chunk out of Malfoy's arm, Harry dashed forward and knocked the blonde ponce out of the way.
"What are you doing, Potter?!"
"Saving you from getting mauled, that's what!"
Hagrid managed to get Buckbeak under control and back to the paddock. Everyone who had seen Harry push Malfoy out of the way knew that that was the only reason the ferret-faced git wasn't in the hospital wing. Harry soon found himself the hero of the day in the eyes of a number of people; especially the girls.
As Harry sat down for dinner that evening, he heard a few whispered comments.
"…and, even though he hates the prat, Harry saved him…"
"…He's so brave. You should have seen him face down the hippogriff…"
"…It takes a really sweet and chivalrous guy to protect both friends and enemies from harm…"
This is weird, Harry thought, they never said anything like that about me. Maybe my 'saving people thing' isn't so bad after all.
Of course, Ron was less than impressed.
"Why did you save Malfoy, Harry?" he asked. "He deserved to get injured for being an idiot."
"I did it because Malfoy would have used it as an excuse to get Hagrid into trouble," Harry retorted.
"While I don't approve of you putting yourself at risk, Harry," Hermione said, "I must admit it was a noble thing for you to have done."
Harry noticed up at the staff table that Hagrid was talking to Professor McGonagall; they both kept glancing in his direction and Harry was certain that the stern Deputy-Headmistress was smiling. A few minutes later, Harry noticed that a great deal of red gems fell into the Gryffindor hourglass. Dinner progressed slowly until an owl swooped in and delivered a letter to Hagrid. Hagrid quickly opened the message and, about a minute later, he was crying loud, happy tears.
After dinner was over, Harry made his way over to the staff table.
"Hagrid," he said innocently, "what had you so worked up?"
"H-Harry," the half-giant sniffled, "the Ministry's cleared me name in regards to the Chamber o' Secrets. I'm allowed ter get a new wand and use magic an'… everythin'!"
"Wow, congratulations, Hagrid."
Hagrid then looked at Harry.
"Now, don' play dumb, 'arry. I know you 'ad somethin' ter do with this."
"Well, I may have mentioned to my lawyers that an injustice or two was committed. And they may have brought it up with the Ministry."
It took a while before Harry was able to break away from a grateful Hagrid and go to bed.
The next day dawned bright and early, but Harry Potter was up even earlier. Another brisk, morning jog and he was set for the day. Once again, the students and staff slowly entered and took their seats. Not long after everyone was in the Great Hall, the doors swung open to admit a newcomer. He was a tall, tan man in his late twenties, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. The man strode over to Harry and shook his hand.
"Harry Potter, I presume?" he said in an American accent.
"Yes, sir?"
"I'm Robert Preston, the private Potions teacher you sent for."
"What is going on here, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Oh, Professor," Harry said, "this is Mr. Robert Preston. I hired him to teach me Potions as I have no intention of continuing in that farce of a class that Snape teaches."
"Professor Snape," McGonagall corrected.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I cannot, in good conscience, acknowledge that man by such a prestigious title as he is as qualified to teach children as a Gestapo agent."
Many pure-bloods were confused by that statement, but the Muggle-borns all understood.
"Nevertheless," McGonagall continued, "I must inquire as to what is going on."
Her answer came in the form of an enraged Snape swooping down upon them.
"Potter!" he shouted as he waved an official-looking letter. "What is the meaning of this?!"
Instead of answering, Harry handed him a piece of paper.
"I took out a restraining order against you," Snape read. "If you attempt to communicate with me in any way, shape, or form, I will have no choice but to press charges on the grounds of harassment." Snape then ripped up the paper and began shouting. "Potter! You will cease this nonsense, at once! I am your teacher and you will treat me with respect!"
"Um, pardon, sir," Mr. Preston spoke up, "In my experience, respect is something you earn."
"Who are you?!" Snape demanded.
"As I was about to explain, I am Mr. Potter's new Potions teacher."
"I am the Potions master in this school," Snape growled.
"Well, sorry, but Mr. Potter over here hired me at the suggestion of his lawyers."
Harry turned to address McGonagall, completely ignoring Snape in the process.
"You see, ma'am, I have been very disappointed in the lack of professionalism and sub-standard teaching methods of the Hogwarts Potions instructor," he said.
"Why you insolent little whelp!" shouted Snape, but Harry ignored him.
"Mr. Preston is one of the United States' premier experts in Potions and is also a fully-qualified educator."
"I got my Teaching and Occult Studies degrees from Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts," Mr. Preston added. "Complete with an Honorable Mention."
"Besides," Harry continued, "according to the School Charter, I am perfectly at liberty to hire an instructor should I find the school has not provided a suitable one. I also extend an invitation to my year-mates to join my private classes. Professor McGonagall, is there, perhaps, a vacant room that is suitable for a Potions class as that is the first on my schedule today?"
Though her features were stoic, Minerva McGonagall was doing a mental happy-dance. She had never liked Snape, not even when he was a student, and was more than happy to stick it to him.
"Why, certainly, Mr. Potter," she said. "I'm sure we can accommodate you."
As the head of Gryffindor House led away Harry, his new Potions teacher, and a great majority of the third years, no one really paid any further attention to the spluttering figure of Severus Snape.
Harry wasn't too surprised that three-quarters of the third year had turned up for Mr. Preston's class; though, he was surprised to see Daphne, Tracey, and…Blaise Zabini?
"Hi, Harry," Tracey greeted.
"Hi, Tracey; hi, Daphne."
"You're probably shocked to see Slytherins here."
"A little."
"Only a moron would stay in Snape's class," Daphne stated. "You know how Snape lets Slytherins slide through class? Well, that's just setting them up for failure because he makes no attempt to correct them. We came here because we actually want to learn something."
"Me, too," Blaise said as he came over to introduce himself. "My mother is a skilled Potions Mistress and she has been increasingly disappointed in the way I've been learning."
"Well," Harry said, "everyone is welcome in this class-"
"Oi!" came an annoyed shout that caused Harry to groan. Ron Weasley marched right over to where Harry and the three Slytherins were talking. "What are a bunch of slimy snakes doing here? I thought this class was so we could get away from them."
"Ron," Harry snapped, "the classes are open to anyone who wants to actually learn Potions. Kindly show a modicum of civility."
"But, Harry, they're Slytherins!"
"Yes, and so was my grandmother."
"Your gran was a Slytherin?"
"So was yours, Weasley," Daphne stated.
"How dare you, you snake! My gran was not a Slytherin!"
"Uh, yeah, she was, Ron," Harry added. "Cedrella Weasley, your dad's mum, was born Cedrella Black." Harry remembered this from right before fifth year when he had asked Sirius about the Black family tree.
"She was disowned from the Black family for marrying Septimus Weasley, a known Muggle-lover," Daphne concurred. "Before that, she was actually a highly respected Slytherin. She was the last girl to play for the Slytherin Quidditch team and she also founded the Wizard's Chess Club."
"You're all lying!" Ron protested, completely ignoring the cool things his gran had done. "My grandmother was not a Slytherin."
Harry exchanged a look with the three Slytherins. Luckily, they were saved when Mr. Preston told them all to take a seat.
"Good morning, everyone," he said cheerily.
There was a chorus of "good morning" throughout the room. Harry noticed that everyone looked more than a little eager.
"Now, class, before we begin, it is standard practice to go over the safety regulations."
There was some confused whispering.
"What? Don't tell me your Professor Snape never told you the basic safety practices."
Harry raised his hand.
"Professor Snape's method was to tell us the instructions are on the board and then berate us if we did anything wrong."
"That's no way to teach," Mr. Preston said with a tone of disgust. "Well, looks like I'd better take it from the top." He gave a quick wave of his wand and a poster appeared on the board. He then pointed to each rule that was listed. "Rule 1: You shall conduct yourselves in a responsible manner in this classroom, Rule 2: Follow all instructions with caution and come see me if you have any questions, Rule 3: Never work alone or leave your cauldron unattended, Rule 4: Do not touch the ingredients until instructed, Rule 5: Do not eat or drink in the class, Rule 6: Come to class prepared, Rule 7: Once you have finished brewing a potion it is important that you clean your work area, Rule 8: Stay alert and inform me immediately if there is a problem, Rule 9: When working, you should always wear protective goggles, gloves, and aprons…"
"Um, I beg your pardon, sir, but what are goggles?" a pure-blood from Hufflepuff asked.
Mr. Preston looked at the student as if the boy had sprouted two heads.
"This is going to take a while," he said with a sigh.
After explaining the rest of the safety regulations and the necessary tools, it was time to begin class.
"Now, can anyone tell me why you should never sit down while brewing?"
Naturally, Hermione's hand shot up into the air.
"Yes, Miss…?"
"Granger, sir, Hermione Granger. If you sit down while brewing then you risk being injured if the potion were to spill as it would land right on your lap."
"Excellent. If I was authorized to award points then you would have earned ten. Yes, you should never do work like this seated; the same rule applies in Chemistry, as do most of the other rules. Now, today we will be brewing a Shrinking Solution…"
Mr. Preston talked them through the process, step at a time, and then set them to work. Each student partnered up at a cauldron and began. Mr. Preston told them he would observe how they did and promised to help them if they were having problems. As the class went on, he eventually came to Neville and Seamus' cauldron which contained a bright orange concoction.
"I'm afraid that's not quite right, boys," Mr. Preston said calmly. "Luckily, it is salvageable and I have seen far worse. Here," he pulled up the textbook, "look through the instructions and tell me where you went wrong."
Neville was blushing vibrantly as he read off several steps he missed.
"It's alright, young man. Here are some easy steps to help get your potion back to where it needs to be." He handed Neville and Seamus a slip of paper with a few, simple steps on it.
By the end of the class, everyone had brewed a satisfactory potion; the same could not be said of Snape's class, however. Everyone who had been to Mr. Preston's class agreed it was the best Potions class they'd ever been to. It was a cheery lot that made its way to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
DADA was just as interesting this time as it was in the last timeline. Once again, they faced the boggart; Harry was very interested in finding out what his boggart would be so he got in the line right behind Neville so that Lupin would have no excuse to prevent him from facing the creature. When Harry stepped forward, the boggart took a few minutes before it turned into Harry's main counselor from the Ministry of Death.
"You're running out of time, Mr. Potter," the boggart said. "If you don't get cracking, everyone will be doomed!"
"Riddikulus," Harry said. The boggart then changed into Mr. Lambert.
"Rotten! Rotten! You're no bloody use, at all! You're an utter, bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!"
"Riddikulus!" Harry said, more forcefully this time.
The boggart then found itself upside-down, suspended by one ankle, with its coat hanging over its head.
Needless to say, Harry received some strange looks after that incident.
Due to the recent occurrences, it was to be expected that Harry would be approached by the Headmaster. The manipulative old bastard accosted Harry as he was on his way to dinner.
"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said in his best grandfatherly tone. "I was wondering if I could have a word."
"You can have several, sir," Harry replied. "Is this matter regarding academics or is it a social call?"
"I just want to have a talk with you, Harry. In my office."
"If the matter does not regard academics, then you will have to pre-arrange the meeting with my guardian and have both him and my Head of House present for the proceeding, as stated in the school charter."
Dumbledore looked completely confused. The boy hadn't automatically done as he asked? This wasn't a matter that could wait and Albus doubted he would get permission from Sirius Black anytime soon (the young Lord owed Albus Dumbledore nothing).
"I'm sure we can overlook those little details, Harry."
"I'm afraid not, sir. Frankly, I find it odd that an older man with no familial connection to an underage boy takes a rather too fond interest in said boy. Do you often meet with your young, male students or is it just me?"
Dumbledore had the expression of a man who had been kneed in the groin. He really did not appreciate what Harry was implying.
"Harry…"
"Another thing, sir, you should address all students by their last names. Why do you insist upon addressing me by my first name? It shows a great lack of professionalism on your part, sir." Before Dumbledore could respond, Harry continued. "If you wish to have a conversation with me in your office that does not pertain to academics, you will need permission from my guardian, sir. I bid you good day."
Dumbledore stared, incredulous, at the figure of Harry Potter proceeding into the Great Hall. The one thing that passed through the Headmaster's mind was What the Hell just happened?!
That evening, as Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, he was approached by the Weasley twins. Both were smiling the way they often did if they were about to do something against the rules.
"Hey, guys," he greeted. "You need to borrow the Map?"
"Actually," George replied, "We were wondering-"
"If you would be interested in a little…hijink we are orchestrating," Fred continued.
Harry looked at the twins' eager faces, grinned, and nodded.
Omake:
Meanwhile, miles away at an old manor house, Lord Richard Acton poured his guest a glass of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.
"I was well acquainted with both your grandfathers, Lord Black," he said. "You are practically a clone of old Arcturus, both in appearance and disposition. Though, you have a bit of Pollux's temper in you."
"Really?" Sirius said with a slight wince.
"It's not a bad thing, young man. You give your family too little credit. Arcturus was a good man; he wouldn't even let your family disinherit you."
"He-He did that?"
"Oh, yes. Your grandfather Pollux and his harpy of a daughter wanted to arrange it so you would meet with an unfortunate 'accident.'"
"What about my father?"
"Oh, Orion just wanted everyone to leave him alone. For years until his death, your father would come by this house and visit my son Charles. I remember the night you ran away. Your father showed up at three-in-the-morning, got sozzled on bourbon, and was heard to exclaim 'why couldn't the lucky little bastard have taken me with him?'"
"Wow," Sirius said with slightly teary eyes, "didn't know the old man cared so much."
"Oh, he cared about you, there's no doubt about that. It's just your mother he couldn't stand. Whenever he came by our house, the first thing he would say was 'haven't seen my wife, have you?' and when we said 'no' he would reply 'oh, thank God for that.'"
The two men chuckled.
"Oh, Charles gave me a copy of a memory of one of his visits to your house after you had left. Care to see?"
"Sure."
Lord Acton led Sirius over to an old pensieve and deposited a memory.
"After you," he said.
It wasn't too hard to recognize the glowering figure of the aged Orion Black seated across from his banshee of a wife. In-between the two of them was Charles Acton who looked perfectly at-ease.
"There's Bellatrix, she's my brother's eldest," Walburga said, "She has a respectable job at the Ministry and is married to a decent pure-blood boy named Rodolphus Lestrange."
"Rodolphus…who used to be a hairdresser?" Charles asked.
"Yes, that's right. I think he's a splendid young man. Mind you, my husband doesn't; he thinks he's a bit, uh, thinks he's a bit flash."
"I hate him, I hate his guts," Orion growled out.
"Of course, they come down on most weekends, so you'll be able to meet them then."
"I'd love to," Charles said in a slight monotone. "Hairdressing sounds most interesting."
"Oh, yes, and very important, too. If you don't take care of your scalp, you get Spattergroit."
Sirius shook his head in disbelief. He knew his mum was nuts, but clearly she had just gone right off-the-handle after he left.
"Then there's our son, Regulus, he's our youngest. Mind you, he's a bit of a problem…at least my husband thinks so, anyway."
"Nasty little piece of work he is," Orion grumbled. "I hate him."
"Mind you, the one we don't hear much about nowadays is Narcissa. She's my brother's youngest. She married Lucius Malfoy, a respectable member of the community and a very influential figure at the Ministry. They live in Wiltshire. They have a lovely little boy, Draco, who's going to be a year old in a few months. Draco looks absolutely the spitting-image of his father. Do you want to see a photo?"
"Oh, yes, please," said Charles.
"All right."
Walburga stood up and went inside to find the afore-mentioned photograph.
"A right little bastard," Orion snarled once his wife had gone. "I hate him. He's got eyes like a little pig's; just like his mother. She's a disaster. Really horrible-looking person, she is. I thought that one would stay on the shelf; but along comes this stupid Malfoy git. He's a real creepy little bastard, he is. I hate him. At least Andromeda and Sirius managed to get out while they still could. If one more member of this family married another snotty, little bastard or joined up with that Voldemort git, I don't know what I'd do. Really horrible person that Voldemort bastard is. I hate him. Of course, Wally won't hear a word against him. Just wish I could get out of this rotten hell-hole."
"This is a nice area," Charles said, changing the subject.
"It's like a bloody graveyard. I hate it."
"It's handy for the shops and convenient for the west end."
"If you like going to the west end; I think it's a stinking dump."