CHAPTER FIFTEEN –
Conversations in the Aftermath
Hermione, laying in her dorm room, sat and pondered the mystery that was Harry Potter. During her brief time at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had been a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, with a riddle as a bow on top.
How does he know how to do all these things? He's never really sat down and explained. How could any first year transfigure a match into a needle so easily? And then explain it to her like it was nothing? How could that same first year then transfigure a needle into a javelin? Without breaking a sweat?
He had utterly destroyed Professor Snape's authority during his very first class, and then removed him from his Head of House duties. How did he know this? How could he do all the things he'd done?
Christmas was another revelation for her. The gift she'd been given would have been enough to almost-bankrupt her parents, and he'd given it to her without a second thought.
Who is Harry Potter?
Dumbledore sat in his office, dealing with the Administrivia that came with running a large school. Inside, however, his thoughts were in turmoil. He was thinking about the mystery of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.
He'd hoped, by putting him with the Dursleys a decade ago, that Harry would be a nice, pliable child, open to receiving the training he'd need to truly defeat Voldemort. He was hoping that Harry would not be an arrogant idiot, like the Malfoy spawn that was attempting to take control of Slytherin House.
Instead, what he got baffled him. Harry had Occlumency shields in place that Dumbledore could only dream of. He exhibited a degree of magical control that was far beyond an eleven-year old, especially one who'd been introduced to the Wizarding world less than six months before.
How is any of this possible? Dumbledore pondered for a moment, before realising that he had a source of knowledge sitting in his very office.
With nary a word, he pulled the Sorting Hat off it's shelf, and placed it onto his head.
Bee in your bonnet, Headmaster?
"Adrian, I have need of your guidance." Dumbledore said sagely.
And what would you like to know?
"What can you tell me about Harry Potter?"
As you are aware, Headmaster, the contents of people's minds is private. I cannot share with you the information I gained during his Sorting.
"Well... what can you tell me?"
Only this; do not attempt to manipulate the boy, Headmaster. He has an impressive grasp of his magical skills, and his morality is exceptional. Do you want him to respect you?
"What kind of question is that?" Dumbledore asked, indignantly. "I am one of the greatest wizards in the world!"
And young Mr. Potter respects your position, Headmaster. However, there is a wide margin between respecting the position, and respecting the man who holds that position. So, I ask you again. Do you want Mr. Potter to respect you, or just the position you hold?
"Me." Dumbledore whispered.
Then heed this warning, Headmaster, for I am not in the habit of dispensing them twice; Mr. Potter is a powerful wizard, probably more powerful than you are. Treat him with the respect he deserves as the Head of House Potter, and as an adult wizard. For when he came to me, he was the least child-like of his peers.
"Are you saying he's not himself?" That was one of the things Dumbledore was worried about Harry. He could have potentially been possessed by Voldemort during that fateful day.
Oh, he's nothing but Harry James Potter. The Hat replied smugly. But you'll find he's nothing like the rest of the children in this school.
"Then what do you mean?"
Have you looked into his past, Headmaster? You placed him with his relatives, did you not check up on him?
"I had an agent close-by."
And what did they report to you? The Hat didn't give him a chance to reply. My advice is to get to know him, as himself. Not the 'Boy-Who-Lived', or some ignorant child. Get to know him, and there may yet be hope for you.
Dumbledore removed the Hat, which faded back into its static form. "I shall do as your recommend."
On the far side of his desk, one of the spindley little devices began to chime, emitting a puff of smoke. Dumbledore strode round the desk, relaxing slightly when he recognised which ward it was. "Why not now?"
Upon his return to school, Harry had taken his Invisibility cloak, newly returned to him at Christmas, courtesy of Dumbledore and Fawkes, and gone looking for the Mirror of Erised.
During his wanderings, his mind struggled through tortured paths of memories, and questions that he should have asked himself back in July.
What do I do? Do I reveal what I know? Do I keep quiet? A thought raced through his mind, chased by a black grim. What do I do about Sirius? I could free him now... but that'll change the future, making my knowledge worthless. It was a quandary that was eating away at him. He survived twelve years in Azkaban before. I know he can do it again. But, should he have to? Is that fair to him?
Caught up in his musings, he didn't notice that he had passed the chamber he needed, until he felt the tingle of a ward. He looked up, grinning to himself as he entered the room. There, in front of him, he saw the Mirror.
From this position, he could feel the magic involved, reaching out to his mind, slipping through his Occlumency shields like a hot knife through soft butter.
He braced himself, and looked into the Mirror.
Dumbledore strode down the corridor, his wand flicking slightly in his hand as he cast a Disillusionment charm over himself. He was wondering what Harry was doing wandering the school after curfew, and what had drawn him to that particular room in the whole of the castle.
As he got to the room, he peered in, noticing Harry sat on the floor in front of the mirror, his invisibility cloak wrapped round his shoulders, leaving the image of a head floating two feet from the floor. Tell the truth, it was a rather disconcerting sight.
Albus made his way behind Harry, looking into the mirror himself. As always, he saw the same image; his wife, dead now, and had been for many decades, along with his daughter. Both had been killed during the battle with Grindelwald in 1945, just before Dumbledore had confronted him in Germany. Albus. mirror image was showing him a Christmas morning, unwrapping his present from his daughter, a box full of woolly socks.
Using his Occlumency, he pushed the image away from his mind. He was here to talk to Harry, not reminisce about his long-gone family.
Inwardly, he wondered what Harry saw when he looked into the mirror. Being a mere eleven-years old, he would have bet that it was something child-like, maybe a present or gift of some kind. Maybe images of his family.
Taking a chance, he gently reached out with his Legilimency, trying to probe the young man's thoughts.
Harry looked into the mirror, feeling his heart swell at the image contained within. He knew it could never happen, but inside, he felt the pang of longing. A feather-light touch on his mental shields brought him sharply back to the present.
Without looking up, Harry broke the silence. "Good evening, Headmaster. Is there something I can help you find?"
Behind him, the disillusionment faded, revealing a slightly sheepish-looking Dumbledore. Harry smoothly stood, allowing the Invisibility cloak to fall to the floor.
"Good evening, Harry." Dumbledore said. "I apologise for my efforts at probing your mind."
Harry tilted his head slightly. "It's rude, Headmaster, but you were not malicious with your attempt. So, I shall let it go this time." His tone hardened. "But, only this time. Do not do it again." The warning was evident in his voice.
Dumbledore nodded. "I am sorry, Harry."
"So, what were you looking for in my head, Headmaster?" Harry asked, mocking Dumbledore's title slightly.
Dumbledore remembered the Sorting Hat's warning, and decided to be completely honest with the young man. "Many people have looked into this mirror, Harry. I was curious as to how you were taking it."
Harry looked back at the mirror, smiling slightly at the image inside. "It's a miracle, Headmaster. It seems to be showing me images that I know can never happen."
"Such is the danger of using the Mirror of Erised, Harry." Dumbledore said sagely. "Have you realised what the true function of this mirror is?"
Harry pondered for a moment. "Erised... Erised..." He closed his eyes. "E.. r... i... Desire." He opened his eyes, looking at Dumbledore. "The Mirror of Desire? Is that right, sir?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Can you read the inscription, Harry?"
Harry looked at the top of the mirror, reading the inscription there: Erised stra ehru yto ube cafru oyt on wohsi. "So... if the name of the mirror is backwards, let's assume this is, as well."
Dumbledore nodded, proud of the young man's reasoning ability. "A correct assumption, Harry."
"'I show not your... face but your...' what's that word? Ah... 'hearts desire'." He looked up at Dumbledore. "How does it work, sir? How does this mirror that I've never seen before know my heart's desire?"
"There are many forms of magic in the world, Harry. Some are more powerful than others. The Mirror of Erised is one such magic." Dumbledore peered down his long nose at Harry. "Do you understand the inherent danger in this device?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Its danger is seduction, I'd imagine, Headmaster. Looking in this mirror, I see something I want desperately... but, I know that it can never happen."
"Your parents?" Dumbledore asked.
"Among others, sir." Harry said, blatantly keeping his cards close to his chest. He looked back into the mirror, relishing the images he saw. It was a wedding, obviously his, if the nervous man with green eyes and messy hair was any indication. The bride lifted her veil, handing her corsage to a woman with identical green eyes and red hair, while a man stood behind him, hazel eyes, but the same messy hair. His parents, attending his marriage to a certain witch of his acquaintance. Behind his father was Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, Sirius Black and Teddy Lupin.
He looked back at Dumbledore. "It's certainly a tempting device, sir." He straightened up slightly, strengthening his resolve. "But, it's not real." He gave a final gaze at the image, locking it into his memory. "It's a dream."
"It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry," Dumbledore said, wisdom shining through, "and forget to live."
Harry looked up. "I disagree, sir." He stared straight at the Headmaster's eyes, matching fire with twinkle. "Without dreams, we have nothing to strive for in life." He looked pensive. "We would drift along, wherever the tides of time take us."
Dumbledore sat down on the stone floor, gesturing for Harry to join him. Harry sat, keeping his back to the mirror. "While you're here, Harry, do you have time to talk to an old man?"
Harry nodded, almost feeling the image in the mirror shift slightly. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling at the image. A very pregnant Hermione screaming slightly, as a child was born. A young girl, green eyes and messy/bushy hair. Harry shook his head, standing up. "Sir, could we go somewhere else? I don't like the idea of staying in here with that mirror."
Dumbledore chuckled, glad that Harry was wise enough to avoid the temptation. "Of course. Since you're already out after curfew, would you care to talk in my office?"
The two made their way to the Headmaster's office. "By the way, sir," Harry said after a few moments. "I'd like to thank you for sending the cloak to me."
Dumbledore glanced down. "What makes you think the cloak came from me, Harry?"
Harry chuckled. "Sir, who else has access to both my family and a Phoenix? Plus, you signed the note. I'm assuming that my father left the cloak with you before that night in Godric's Hollow?"
"Yes." Dumbledore was both impressed with Harry's abilities, and a bit annoyed that he'd forgotten he'd signed the blasted thing. He suspected he'd only seen the faintest hints of Harry's true intelligence and power. "I was studying the cloak, since it's unlike any other invisibility cloak I've ever seen. That was late Oober of 1981. I never got the chance to return it to your father before he was killed."
"Then, thank you, sir." Harry said politely.
As the two entered Dumbledore's office, Fawkes trilled a welcome, and neatly deposited himself on Harry's lap.
"Hello, Fawkes." Harry said softly.
Dumbledore settled behind his desk, conjuring a tea set, and quickly poured the drinks.
"Harry, I must admit, there have been a number of questions about you recently, both from the staff, and I must admit, I have a number of questions myself."
Harry took the tea from Dumbledore, blowing on it before taking a sip. He made a 'gimme' gesture to Dumbledore, and sat back slightly.
"First of all, Harry..." Dumbledore paused for a moment. How do you ask someone why they're not more stupid? "You seem to know an awful lot for a first year."
"I'm a Ravenclaw, sir." Harry said proudly. "We prize knowledge."
"Harry, you know too much." Dumbledore said gently. "According to Professor McGonagall, during your very first Transfiguration lesson, you assisted Miss Granger, and far exceeded the work she set."
Harry had been prepared for these questions for quite a while. Ever since he had considered taking a joy-ride into the past, he knew this would crop up, and he had gained the necessary material.
"Sir, when I went to Gringotts, I found trunks in one of the Vaults. These contained my parents' journals. Do you remember my parents' school records, sir?"
"Ah." He did remember. While James Potter was not the most studious person he'd met, the young man had been very gifted in Transfiguration. Especially as it related to battle. "Your father?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. In his journals, he detailed how he'd learned Transfiguration. He also wrote down, what he considered, anyway, the 'Big Secret'. It's all in the visualisation."
Dumbledore nodded, taking a fortifying sip of tea.
"Since I know what a matchstick looks like, and I know what a sewing needle looks like, it was relatively easy to make the change between one and the other. Making the needle bigger was again just a matter of knowing what I was turning something from and to, and the rest happened."
"And what about your Charms work?" Dumbledore asked, conjuring a plate of biscuits. He glanced around, making sure the portraits in the room were asleep, since midnight snacking would go against his reputation.
"That was in my mother's journal, sir." Harry said. "Although, she was honest, and called it a diary. According to her diary, she was very good with both Charms and potions." Harry took a deep breath. "To be frank, sir, I don't sleep well. So, I have plenty of time to read. During August, when I was living alone in Diagon Alley, I had plenty of time to read and practice."
Dumbledore nodded again. "That brings me to another point, Harry." He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Your emancipation. How did you find out about that? I know it's not something that is commonly known among the Wizarding community."
Harry smiled cheekily. "A book, sir. I found several interesting tomes when I was in Flourish and Blotts. One of them talked about 'Old Families'. Since Hagrid said that my parents had left me a large sum of money, I looked up genealogy of my family, and the rules concerning said family. It said that I could assume my Head of House duties at age eleven. So, I went to Gringotts, and got it done."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "And why would you want to leave your relatives' home, Harry? You were safe there."
"Safe from what, Headmaster?" Harry asked politely. "I asked you at Christmas, and the answer you gave was less than... satisfying."
Dumbledore sighed. "Normally, Harry, I would not be having this discussion with a child."
The Sorting Hat cleared its throat noisily from the shelf, before transmitting a message into the Headmaster's mind. You'll find he's nothing like the rest of the children in this school.Dumbledore nodded slightly. "But, in this case, I will make an exception.
"When your family was attacked, Harry, we were left with a number of problems." He took another sip of his tea, and demolished a biscuit. "While it was true that Voldemort had been vanquished, his loyal followers were still at large. If any of them had managed to find you, they would most certainly have attempted to kill you."
Harry nodded, stealing a biscuit from the plate, while Dumbledore chuckled and moved the plate closer.
"As such, it was necessary to hide you from the Death Eaters. Because of the sacrifice of your mother, it provided you with a powerful protection, based on blood. As long as you lived at a place where your mother's blood lives, in this case, your Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley, Voldemort and his followers would not be able to touch you."
Harry nodded again. "That makes sense, Headmaster." He nodded graciously. "However, what do you know of Aunt Petunia?"
Dumbledore, for a fraction of a second, looked uncomfortable, but masked it quickly. "I had somebody living on Privet Drive, watching over you, Harry. She reported that Petunia did not seem to pay as much attention to you as your cousin. Also, Professor McGonagall watched them on the day that I dropped you off. She was not... enthusiastic... about leaving you there."
Harry snorted. "Sir, Aunt Petunia despised my very existence. For ten years, I was treated as a slave. Hagrid compared me to a House-Elf... whatever that is. I cooked for them, I cleaned for them, I did everything in that house. I was barely given enough food to eat, and was occasionally beaten for asking for more."
Dumbledore looked aghast. "What?" He whispered.
"Sir, do you consider a cupboard, underneath the stairs, to be an appropriate bedroom for a growing child?"
"What?" Dumbledore's whisper was harsher. "What do you mean?"
"When I was growing up, I never had clothing of my own. Everything that I wore was a hand-me-down from my cousin Dudley." Harry shook his head, muttering the next few words. "It didn't help that he's the size of a baby killer whale." He looked back up at Dumbledore, who'd gone white. "All the time, I was told I was a freak, and that I should have the 'freakiness' beaten out of me. At the time, I didn't understand. Now, I realise that they were talking about my being a wizard.
"Frankly, sir, when the opportunity came to get away from the Dursleys, I did. That's why, when you told me as Christmas I had to go back, I refused. They don't want me, I don't want them."
Harry had never seen Dumbledore look so angry, not even when dealing with Crouch Junior at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament during the original time-line. "I think, Harry, that you are right."
"Sir, one thing I don't understand. I'm making the assumption that Voldemort's followers have now all been captured?" Dumbledore nodded. "Then why wasn't I removed from the Dursleys? If you thought that Voldemort's men would be coming after me, wouldn't it make sense to give me the training I needed to defend myself?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "At the time, Harry, I had my reasons for keeping you away from the Wizarding world. It wasn't that I wanted you to be unprepared. I simply felt that if you had a normal upbringing, away from the pressure of being the 'Boy-Who-Lived', it would make you a better person."
Harry nodded. It confirmed several things he'd suspected originally. "I assume that this is to prevent me from becoming an arrogant little peacock, strutting around Hogwarts like I own the place?" It's ironic, considering that out of everyone, I pretty much do own Hogwarts. Ah... the irony...
"Frankly, yes." Dumbledore looked haggard. "If you grew up in the spotlight, people constantly praising you for something that you didn't even remember, it would turn you into a glory hound. To be frank, Harry, and please don't take this the wrong way, I rather like the person that you are now."
Harry blushed. "Thank you, sir."
"However, there are still questions I would like answered. You seem to have an innate grasp of magic that is almost impossible to find in an eleven-year old... even one who had been trained from birth would still have issues with the finer points of Charms, or Transfiguration."
Shit... think fast... "Sir, Hermione has almost the same grasp as me. We both have a thirst for knowledge, and quite frankly, have scarily impressive reading speeds."
Dumbledore peered down his nose at Harry, hoping a good long stare would unnerve the young man, making his spill a little more information. It even worked on Severus... but not Harry. Harry gazed back with the same intensity, only looking away when Fawkes trilled from his lap.
"Harry... I suspect that you are not telling me everything." Dumbledore said imperiously.
Harry just nodded affably. "That would be an excellent assumption, Headmaster." He replied casually. "However, if I may be so bold, are you telling me everything?"
Dumbledore suppressed a grin. Oh, at long last, a worthy conversationalist! Both men, for there was now no doubt in Dumbledore's mind that while Harry may have a limited number of years behind him, he was no child, had a firm grasp on conversational skills. While Harry had revealed details of his home-life, there was nothing there that could be used against him.
"At this point in time, Harry," Dumbledore said carefully, "I have revealed all I can to you. Obviously, as you grow older, I will be able to share more with you."
Harry grinned. "The same with myself, sir."
"May I assume, from our earlier conversation, that you will not be returning to the Dursleys' house at for the summer?"
"A fine assumption, Headmaster." Harry said. "The only way I would return to the Dursleys' is if every other building, tree and cave in the world was destroyed."
Dumbledore nodded. Not entirely unexpected... "May I have your address for school records, Harry?"
Harry thought for a moment. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, but even he could not break the Fidelus charm on Harry's flat. "Yes, sir. Harry Potter lives at 93a, Diagon Alley, London."
The information appeared in Dumbledore's mind. There was a flat above that vacant shop in Diagon Alley... Why didn't he remember that earlier? "Do you have the property under a Fidelus charm, Harry?" Harry nodded. "That's an awfully advanced piece of magic, Harry. Most adult wizards aren't able to cast it." Harry nodded again. "How were you able to cast it?"
Harry smiled inwardly. Time for yet another misdirection. "Sir, with enough money, Goblins make very powerful allies." Entirely true, just not related to my Fidelus charm.
Dumbledore nodded. "Ah." He opened his fob watch. "Good lord, it's almost two in the morning, Harry. You should get some sleep."
Harry nodded, yawned, and stood up. Fawkes sleepily trilled, and flew over to his perch, before settling down for the night. He cocked his head to the Headmaster, and vanished out of the door, leaving Dumbledore to ponder over the conversation. Interesting... he provided answers, but there are still things... off. How does he know Occlumency? Why didn't Arabella report about the abuse he received?
There were still things about Harry Potter that he needed to find out.
Harry made his way back to the Ravenclaw common room, smiling slightly to himself. It had been a battle of wits with Dumbledore. In the past, he would have been soundly defeated by the Headmaster within moments. This time, thanks to his far superior knowledge, he'd managed to hold his own, drawing the competition to a stalemate.
After a brief but silly fight with the portrait, Harry entered the common room. He saw a bushy mass lying on one of the couches, and smiled warmly. Hermione. He crept over, looking down on her sleeping form. When she was asleep, her face was peaceful, and so very cute. He shook himself. Get it together, Potter. While she may look, sound and act like your wife, she's not. Your wife was killed by Voldemort.
Another voice, what he considered his inner-demon, decided to speak up. She's still Hermione, though. She's still the woman that you loved. Not this version. She's already different from what happened. You say 'tom-ayt-to', I say 'to-mar-to'. This is an almost totally different Hermione. She's not a Gryffindor, she's not friends with evil Weasel. That's all irrelevant, Harry. She's still Hermione. At the core...
Harry was startled from his musings by a pair of chocolate eyes staring into his. "Hi." Hermione whispered, a bit unnerved by Harry staring at her for the last two minutes.
"Hi." He whispered back. "What are you doing still up?"
Hermione stretched, reminding Harry of a lioness stretching herself before beginning a hunt. "I was waiting for you to come back. I was hoping to have a chat."
Inside, Harry groaned. It's never good when she say that. "What about?" He asked, settling himself on the floor in front of her.
"To be frank, Harry, I've got some questions for you."
Harry rolled his eyes. No, not again! "Oddly enough, Hermione, I've just had a very similar conversation with Professor Dumbledore."
Hermione sat up, smiling at him. "Oh, good. It's still fresh in your mind, then."
Bollocks. Spot's the jugular, straight in for the kill! Harry nodded. "What would you like to know, Hermione?"
"Basically, Harry, I want to know how you know what you know." Hermione said simply, leaning back on the couch, folding her arms.
"Great." Harry said sarcastically. "That's a bit vague, Hermione. If you're talking about my cooking skills, then the answer would be practice. But, I have the feeling that's not what you're talking about."
Hermione glared at him for a moment, before softening. "You know that's not what I mean, Harry. How are you so good at magic, considering that you're essentially a Muggleborn, like me?"
Aha! Harry thought. "Hermione, how are you so good at magic, considering you're a Muggleborn?"
"W-Well..." Hermione stammered. "I read a lot. I'm several weeks ahead of classes in my textbooks."
Harry nodded, then stood up. "Wait there a minute." He vanished up the stairs, heading for his dorm room, and opening his trunk at the library section. He quickly pulled out a number of dusty tomes, before sealing the trunk and heading back down the stairs. He passed a crimson notebook into Hermione's hand.
"When I went to Gringotts to claim my inheritance, I found a number of my parents' journals. In them, they listed all sorts of things. Their experiences at learning magic, including shortcuts. That's how I seem so advanced in my classes. I've got, in essence, the complete Hogwarts learning experience in my hands." And head, since I've been here already.
Hermione flicked open the journal, reading the first page, before slamming it shut, and handing it back to Harry. "Your mum's diary?"
"Yes." Harry said softly. "My mum's diary lists everything, from her first day at Hogwarts to about a month before she died. When they went into hiding, they put a lot of their possessions into storage, in case they needed to move in a hurry. I've been reading them, and I've gained a lot of insight."
Hermione's gaze softened. "What's it like reading about your parents', Harry?" She whispered.
Harry shrugged. "Well... it's better than nothing, really." He whispered back. "I know I'll never get to meet my mother, so reading this gives me some insight into her." He held up a navy blue book. "The same for my dad. He was, according to McGonagall, very gifted at Transfiguration. That's how I was able to help you during our first lesson."
Hermione nodded. That makes sense... If I'd never known my parents, and someone handed me their journals, I'd be all over them like a rash. "Okay, Harry."
Harry looked at her, smiling slightly. "I'm curious about one thing, Hermione." He waited for her to nod her head slightly. "This must have been bugging you for weeks. Why are you only asking me about it now?"
Hermione smiled warmly at him. "I thought I'd see if I could work it out on my own. Frankly, Mr. Potter, you're quite the enigma."
Harry mock-bowed. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Coming from the smartest witch of our generation, I consider that quite a compliment."
"As it was intended, kind sir." Hermione said, standing up and curtseying. It would probably have been more impressive if she wasn't wearing her night-gown.
"Anyway, Hermione." Harry said, yawning widely. "It's almost 3am, and I'm buggered. I'm gonna go to bed."
Hermione stood up, and headed for the stairs, before stopping, and looking at Harry. She debated with herself for a moment, then came over and kissed him briefly on the cheek. "Goodnight, Harry." She whispered.
She turned and rushed for the stairs, not stopping to look behind her. Harry chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he climbed the stairs.
– CHAPTER SIXTEEN –
Flashbacks, Potentials, Padfoot and Prisons
The two intense chats he'd had that evening were heavy on Harry's mind as he dropped into bed. The verbal sparring with Dumbledore had left him feeling angsty, and whenever that happened, his mind automatically returned to Sirius.
What the hell do I do? Seemed to be running on automatic through his head. If I get him out, everything will change. People will ask me too many questions about how I know he's innocent. Dad's journal doesn't cover anything about the change in Secret-Keepers, and only Mum, Dad, Sirius and Peter knew about it.
Pettigrew. Just the thought of the bastard running around Hogwarts was enough to make his blood boil. The knowledge that he could get out of bed, head straight up to Gryffindor tower, make his way to Ron's bed, and AK the traitorous little bugger right now did nothing to settle him down.
Would it really be so bad? He asked himself. True, it would change the future completely, rendering my hard-won knowledge useless... But, it would spare a man another two years of being trapped in hell on Earth.
Why wasn't there someone he could talk to about this? If only he could unload, it would make things so much easier. But he knew, really. If anyone found out, and he knew that telling somebody a secret like this would be an invitation for disaster, he'd be hauled into the Department of Mysteries and studied, dosed to the eyeballs with Veritaserum, his knowledge used to change things for 'the greater good'.
No. He couldn't tell anyone.
But, there must be something I can do about Padfoot. Poor bugger's been in there for ten years...
His mind drifted back to a time yet-to-come. Before he'd left the future, he'd run through everything he'd need. His mastery of spells, both non-verbal and wandless. His cover stories, in case people began to notice things they shouldn't. His mapping of the relationship with Hermione, which had been turned to bollocks the instant he'd seen her. But one thing he could never figure out was what to do with Sirius. Oh, he'd had ideas, vague theories, but most of them involved an already-escaped Sirius during Harry's third year.
He ran through the options again. Moony. Nope, no good. Lupin still thought that Sirius was a back-stabbing scumbag who'd sold out the Potters to Voldemort.
Dumbledore. Way too many questions. Dumbledore had been head of the Wizengamot for nearly five decades. He'd had the ability to call a trial ten years ago. Why he hadn't done so was a question Harry was itching to ask when the time was right.
Fudge. Hmm... Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Fudge's political ambitions would run over Harry's good intentions like floodwater. He'd ask too many politically inconvenient questions.
Madam Bones. A stickler for justice, but a woman who loved justice too much. As far as she was concerned, Sirius was a convicted murderer, and wouldn't even look at the files.
What to do? He'd considered writing a letter to Sirius, but he'd dismissed it. Now, he wasn't so sure...
Conveniently ignoring the fact it was three in the morning, Harry dug out a parchment, and hunted on the floor under his bed for a quill.
Dear Padfoot.
You do not know who I am. I regret that I cannot tell you the full story at this time. Know that I am on your side, and will be until death.
As for what I am, know that I am like you. As you can tell by who I addressed this missive to, I know your secret. I know many of your secrets. I could almost say I keep your secrets. But, I am not a Secret-Keeper. Just like you are not.
There are things happening, Padfoot, that change everything. Help is coming for you. It won't be immediate, and it certainly won't be obvious.
I believe in you, Sirius Orion Black, last scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I know the truth about James and Lily Potter, and I know the truth about what happened on November 1st, 1981. You did not blow up that street, and you are not responsible for the deaths of twelve non-magical people.
They said when you were taken in, that you started laughing, and crying out that it was all your fault that the Potters are dead. I know the truth of that statement. You believe that it was your idea to switch the Secret-Keeper from yourself to Pettigrew. It wasn't. It was under orders from He-Who-Should-Die-A-Horrible-Painful-Death that Pettigrew sow the seeds of doubt.
I know your concerns at the moment are getting enough food to survive. Sirius Black cannot survive in Azkaban. But Padfoot can. Padfoot will be able to keep Sirius' sanity intact.
I know you're concerned about Moony. He lives still. At the moment, life is difficult for him, as it is for anyone with a 'furry little problem'. He is strong, and will cope. As is your godson, Dogfather. He is well, and protected at the moment.
Prongs would want you to stay strong. Your time is coming, Padfoot. When it approaches, you must act swiftly. Perhaps doing crossword puzzles would help pass the time. You never know what you might Prophet from.
Keep the faith, brother.
Stripeclaw.
Harry signed the letter with a flourish. The name 'Stripeclaw' had been given to him by Moony, when he completed his Animagus transformation. A White Bengalese tiger. Unfortunately, the ability had been stunted due to the regeneration of his body during the time-travel. He wouldn't be able to manifest the ability again until his late fourth or early fifth year, at the earliest.
It was a shame, really. He missed being able to prowl around the castle, scaring the crap out of the skinny red demon that roamed the halls.
Harry rolled the parchment up, using his wand to create a blob of sealing wax, where he imprinted a tiny picture of a stag, a dog, a wolf and a lily flower.
With a soft sigh, Harry opened his mother's diary, flicking to an entry about eight months before he was born. It was when Lily had found out about being pregnant. With that thought in mind, he fell into a fitful sleep.
The morning sun was not kind to Harry, as the rays beat relentlessly on his eyes. He moaned and rolled over, wincing as the sharp corner of the book poked his cheek. With a muted groan, he sat up, rubbing his eyes, and stretching until his back popped.He staggered out of bed, intent on taking care of his usual morning problem. Two minutes at the toilet and he felt much better. All he needed know was coffee, and shower, and a brief trip to the Owlery to send his missive off.
He only hoped Sirius would appreciate it.
Sirius Black was bored out of his mind. Literally. He knew it was too small to wander by itself, but here in sunny Azkaban, the retirement home for the criminally insane, it didn't really have much choice."Mail Call!" One of the Aurors guarding the prison shouted. Sirius didn't even blink. After ten years and two months in Hell... Azkaban, he'd never once received a piece of mail. At first, it hadn't really bothered him, but he'd been longing for human contact that didn't involve being spat on or punched.
The Auror stopped outside Sirius' cell, startling the convict. "Got something for you here, Black." The Auror spat. "Don't know who'd wanna write to a murdering scumbag like you..."
Sirius took the letter, and retreated to the furthest wall of his cell.
As he read it, some of the years of abuse fell away. Knowing that his brother-by-choice and his godson were safe and well was a balm to his wounds.
One line particularly interested him. Sirius Black cannot survive in Azkaban. But Padfoot can. Padfoot will be able to keep Sirius' sanity intact. He'd tried to change into his Animagus form before, but he'd been too weak to maintain it for more than a few minutes. The thought of his innocence had kept his powers, but they were dreadfully weak.
Closing his eyes, thinking of spending a Christmas day dinner with Moony, Prongs, Lily and the Pronglet filled his mind. The instant the image was complete, a fresh surge of power, greater than anything he'd felt in almost a decade, raced through him, and Sirius Black was gone from Azkaban. Only Padfoot remained.
In a castle several hundred miles away, a young man looked up in sudden surprise. He'd felt... something. Something familiar. With startled realisation he grinned. Bide your time, Padfoot. I'll be coming for you soon enough.January passed slowly for Harry. Malfoy was as prick-ish as ever, while Ron Weasley was still the human equivalent of a visible panty-line; irritating, awkward and unsightly.The confrontations with Dumbledore and Hermione weighed heavily on his mind. He needed to unload on someone, but who? The same list of people as his dealings with Padfoot sprang to mind, but was easily dismissed.
With a burst of inspiration, Harry quickly left the common room, and headed for the seventh floor, neatly avoiding the Gryffindor common room. When he stopped outside the statue of Barnabas the Barmy, he closed his eyes, walking three times. I need someone to talk to. I need someone to discuss my problems with that won't be found out.
The door appeared, and Harry stepped inside.
His first glance at the room made him snigger. It was set up like a psychiatrist's office, with several large, plush couches, and an antique wooden desk. There was another door, on the far side of the room, that opened as soon as Harry shut the external door.
Five people stepped out. He recognised four immediately. James Potter. Lily Potter. Sirius Black. A 21-year old Hermione Granger, and an elegant woman, appearing to be about 30.
Harry sat on the couch, looking over the new arrivals with interest. "Good afternoon."
"Hello, Harry." James said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure's mine." Harry replied politely. "I know what you all appear to be... but who are you?"
The stranger smiled at Harry. "Well... I am the anthropomorphic manifestation of Hogwarts."
Harry's eyebrow shot for his hairline. "Really? I didn't know Hogwarts was capable of generating an anthropomorphic manifestation..." He stared closer. "You're sentient, aren't you?" Before the stranger could continue, Harry pressed on. "Of course... the Founders would have placed as much of themselves into the school as they could, plus a thousand years of magic, not to mention all the emotional conduct of the students, would have given you that push."
"Indeed. You may refer to me as 'Arx Accipio', young Heir."
"'Arx Accipio'?" Harry asked. "Why 'Arx Accipio'?"
"Because that is both who and what I am. It is Latin for 'Fortress of Learning'." Arx replied. "You may refer to me as 'Arx'. I am the heart of Hogwarts. What powers me, gives me life, protects us."
Harry just nodded at her, before looking at the carbon copy of his dead wife. "And you?"
Not-Hermione smiled at him. "The Founders, all four, left their essence within the school, call it their 'living magic' when they passed beyond the veil. The HeartStone contains these essences. It's how the Sorting Hat works. We are called up each year to divide the new students."
"Really?" Harry had no idea. "I thought the Sorting Hat did that all by itself."
"No." Not-Hermione replied, smiling at him in the provocative way that drove the Future!Harry wild. "The Sorting Hat is a conduit to the HeartStone. Hogwarts herself determines who goes where."
"Ah." Harry thought for a moment. "That's how the castle knows how many beds to set up in each dorm, isn't it? Because she's already decided who goes where."
"Indeed." Not-Lily spoke up. "You truly are a member of my house, young heir."
"So... you'd be the manifestation of Rowena Ravenclaw, then?" Harry concluded. "Makes sense. Ravenclaw was my great-to-the-power-of-infinity grandmother." Harry turned to Not-James. "You'd be Gryffindor?" Not-James nodded.
Harry turned to Not-Sirius. "My first thought is another Gryffindor... but my second is that you're actually Hufflepuff's essence." Harry smiled. "Sirius was fantastically loyal to me... even at the cost of his own life."
Not-Sirius just nodded, grinning in that slightly manic way that truly represented Sirius Black. Harry turned to the replica of his wife. "So... you'd be Slytherin then. Certainly makes sense. Hermione was always tremendously ambitious."
Not-Hermione nodded. "You placed her in Ravenclaw in this time-stream. Why?"
Harry leaned back on the couch, resting his head against the back, and allowed his eyes to drift closed. "Hermione... my Hermione, was a brilliant witch, who was ridiculed from her very first day at Hogwarts. Not only by her foes, but her friends. I know that the Hermione downstairs is not my Hermione, but I truly believe she will be a better witch because of it."
Not-Hermione nodded. "I agree, young Heir. She will be supported, and will truly excel in her new home. With you by her side, she could become one of the greatest witches ever."
Harry opened his eyes. "I hate to ask this of you, but could you change your forms... It's bringing back some painful memories."
The four looked at him imperiously for a moment, before seeming to melt in front of his eyes. When they had reformed, they wore the guise of the Founders. Slytherin still looked shifty, and slightly satanic, with a trimmed pointy goatee.
"A pleasure to meet you all." Harry said, nodding his head respectfully to each of them.
"You brought us into being to talk, young Heir." Slytherin said, his voice warm and caring. It was a far cry from the stereotype that reigned in the world at the moment.
"I did." Harry said, practically jumping to his feet, and beginning to pace. "I... I find myself unsure of where to go from here."
Helga smiled warmly. "Tell us your problem."
Harry stopped for a moment, before pacing again, faster than before. "Before I left my original time, I was so sure of the things I had laid out. The project that I was working with had devised a new method of time-travel. Not like a time-turner, where you can only travel back a day." He stopped, and turned around, before beginning to pace again. "This technology was completely unconnected from magic."
"Muggles have time travel machinery?" Rowena asked. "I didn't think that was possible."
Harry snorted. "Non-magical humans have a massive amount of technology. When I left the future, it was the end of the 21st century. Humans had mastered space-travel to the nearby planets, updating their astronomical knowledge of the galaxy immeasurably. They'd created a way of conjuring food, so that there was virtually no hunger in the world. And there was the project. Time-travel to any point in your own life-time."
"Incredible..." Salazar commented. "Simply incredible!"
"However, the was a danger in the project. By stepping outside the confines of the machine, you would step into the past." Harry slumped back into the chair. "The downside, though..."
"You killed someone." Helga said. "Another version of yourself."
Harry nodded. "Yes. Stepping into the world caused the technology to assimilate the DNA of the original, and use it to regenerate the new arrival. My 112 year-old body was returned to its pre-pubescent state."
"This has upset you?" Godric asked, leaning forward in his chair.
"No." Harry said absently. "And that's only one of the things that worries me. Should I feel guilty for killing someone?"
Rowena, sweet, gentle Rowena, took the plunge. "But, did you kill him? If you killed Harry Potter, how are we talking to you? You are Harry Potter, as much as the other. You removed him from the time-stream."
"It's not that easy." Harry said. "I... I meddled with fate. Tinkered with destiny. Decided to destroy 101 years of the space-time continuum because I didn't like what had happened. Doesn't that make me as bad as Voldemort?"
"You will save lives, heir." Salazar said firmly. "You will improve history."
"How do we know?" Harry persisted. "How can anyone know the future? How do we know I won't cock it up anymore?" He ran his fingers through his hair, before letting out a groan of frustration. "What have I done?"
The four Founders looked at each other, when Arx spoke up. "You have brought hope, Heir. Not just for yourself. Your work with your wife has made her believe in herself, far earlier than in your original time. She will become a potent force. The members of the Snake house believe that they will not be hated because of the actions of one man. The whole of the Wizarding world believes that a true saviour, a giant among men, walks among them. This time, however, that reputation is deserved."
"But... where do I go from here?" Harry whined, truly sounding like an eleven-year old. "I want to get Sirius out of prison, but that'll bollocks up the time-line. It'll prompt Wormtail to escape earlier, which could lead Voldemort to resurrect himself before I'm ready." He slumped back into the couch, before lying down. "I want someone to understand..."
Godric stood, and kneeled in front of the couch. "We understand what you have told us." He said kindly. "What you want is guidance."
Harry nodded vigorously. "Just for once, I want to be taken care of. I want someone to tell me what to do, not for their sake, but for mine." He looked at Godric with puppy-dog eyes. "What can I do?"
"Prepare yourself, young heir." Salazar said, standing just behind Godric. "Think about what is to come, make a list, and then get what you need."
He reminds me of Moody. Constant Vigilance! Harry thought. "Okay..." He looked pensive for a moment. "Well... Voldemort's gonna go after the stone in about six months. I'll need to stop him. At the moment, Voldemort's so weak, I can take him on without any problems."
Godric just nodded. "Over-confidence can be a weakness, Harry." He held up a hand to forestall any protests. "But, being afraid will not serve you."
"Well... after that, I'll need a way to get to school for the beginning of my next year. A house-elf will block my access to the platform at the train station." Harry looked at the others.
"A Portkey, young heir." Helga said from the other couch. "You know how to make them."
Harry scrunched up his face in disgust. "I'd rather not. Portkeys make me sick to my stomach."
"Then find another way to use them." Rowena said. "Find a way to contain the sensation or block it out, so that they do not make you sick to your stomach."
Harry nodded, his keen mind already beginning to contemplate what he could do. "I also need a way to protect others. There were so many casualties..."
"The three death curses are still in use, I assume?" Arx asked, suddenly.
"Death curses?" Harry asked, confused. "There's only one Killing curse."
"No... the Death Curses are... well... they're the work of evil, Harry." Rowena said. "A curse for mind control, a curse to torture, and a curse to kill. In our time, using one of them was an automatic death sentence."
"Ah. We call them the 'Unforgivables' now." Harry said. "Using one on another human being gets you a one-way ticket to prison."
Arx spoke up again. "There must be a way to stop these vile creations." She smiled at him. "As an Heir of Ravenclaw, I'm sure you're up to the task."
Great... find a way to block the unblockable. Arx, baby, you don't ask for much. "You want mayo on that?" Harry asked cheekily. He sobered up. "There's a basilisk under the school."
Salazar froze. "Blink is still here?" He asked, sounding both shocked and afraid.
Harry snorted, before starting to laugh. "You called a sixty-three foot basilisk 'Blink'?" He let loose a fully belly laugh, which lasted far too long, in Arx's opinion. Harry took his time to bring himself under control, before taking a single glance at Salazar, and bursting out laughing again.
After Harry had calmed himself, which had taken a lot of effort, he started again. "Yes. 'Blink' is still here. She'll go around petrifying students. The positive is that the final battle with..." Harry snorted, trying not to start laughing again, "'Blink' is that a charmed diary will be destroyed. The downside is that it'll create another sort of monster."
"What sort?" Godric demanded.
"A potion-obsessed fan girl." Harry shuddered. "She interfered with my heart. I don't particularly want to deal with her, and saving her life will certainly do that."
"You will need to pick the lesser of two evils, Harry." Salazar said. "A fan-girl can be contained. Blink could cut a swath across the whole Wizarding world."
"Fine." Harry pouted.
The talk with the Founders had broken up shortly after that, with an invitation that Harry could return. While he'd not managed to make a decision regarding Sirius, he'd managed to get some things off his chest, and onto the chests of others.While trudging back, Harry saw Neville Longbottom sulking down the corridor. Shit... He thought. I'm so not in the mood for a fight at the moment.
"Potter." Neville said as he saw the other boy approach.
"Longbottom." Harry replied in a neutral tone. "Something I can do for you?"
Neville shook his head, then stopped. "Actually, there is. I want to give you something."
Harry's hand subtly went for his wand. "Oh?"
Longbottom held out his hand. "I want to give you my apologies. I've been behaving like an arse for the last few months."
Harry reached for Neville's hand automatically, before he froze in place. "What?"
"I've been acting like a prat." Neville said cheerfully. "I realise that now. I've been treating you like dirt since you got here, and I want to say 'I'm sorry'."
"Why?"
"Ron." Neville mumbled. "He said it was a chance to shine if we were to try to become your friends, so that we could share your fame."
"Ron's a dick." Harry said bluntly. "So... you're trying to become my friend... That doesn't make any sense. Ron's practically been stalking me since I got here. Creepy little git."
"I'm not asking to become your friend, Mr. Potter." Neville said. "With the way I've been acting, I certainly wouldn't want to. But, I do want to apologise to you."
This is so not the Neville I remember. "You've confused me, Longbottom, a situation I don't particularly like."
"That was not my intention." Neville said, letting his hand drop to his side. "But, my apologies are there, none-the-less."
Harry just stared at him for a moment, causing him to squirm, before Harry turned away. "I'll consider it, Longbottom."
"He what?" Hermione asked loudly."He said he wanted to apologise." Harry replied. The common room had stopped at Hermione's outburst, and were getting back to whatever they were doing before.
"Why? He's been a prat for months."
"I know this." Harry said, leaning back on the loveseat. "It's odd. My first thought is to tell him to sod off, but thinking about it, I think he was just lonely."
"Lonely?" Hermione leaned back, grasping Harry's hand automatically. "We were both lonely when we got here, and we didn't start acting like idiots."
"No." Harry agreed. "But, then again, both of us are quite... mature. Independent, even. You're very responsible, and I'm... what was it your dad called me? Oh, yeah... 'a forty-year old child'. Both of us know better. Tell you the truth, I think Longbottom's had a very shielded lifestyle. He just didn't know better."
Hermione just stared at him for a moment. "What did you tell him?"
"Just that I'd consider it." Harry replied, squeezing her hand gently. "You never know... he could turn out to be a great friend."
"Or a giant penis." Hermione hissed back. "I've not forgotten all those fights that those three have tried to start."
"That's Weasley." Harry said dismissively. "That boy's so stupid, it frightens me."
"I think it's his sister you should be worried about." Hermione said, starting to chuckle. "You remember what Fred and George said."
"Thanks for that!" Harry said with mock-cheerfulness. "There's an image I need to Scourgify."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN –
Hagrid, Boogie and Quidditch
Harry awoke the following day with a startled realisation; he'd been at Hogwarts for almost five months, and had only been to see Hagrid twice. He'd need to spend some time there, so he could pump Hagrid for information regarding the Philosopher's Stone, and about the Gringotts break-in. And Fluffy. And Flamel. Man, the guy's like a fount of information we shouldn't know
He leapt out of bed, racing into the shower block with a determined glint in his eye, before he realised that it was Saturday, and he had plenty of time. He slowed down marginally, washing his hair, fighting a losing battle at getting the damned mop under any semblance of control, before getting dressed.
As was their custom, Hermione was waiting in the common room for him, so they could go to breakfast together.
I don't know how I'll cope during the summer Harry thought idly to himself. Much as he was a night-owl, he loved spending this time in the morning with Hermione. Seeing her go from sleepy cuteness to alert beauty warmed his heart. It also caused him painful reminders of the time in the future, when the two would share breakfast at their home, usually after a night of wild sex, and that warmed his... well, a little lower down than his heart.
He shook his head, trying to firmly ground himself in the present. The two left the common room, holding hands as usual.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Do you fancy going seeing Hagrid after breakfast?"
"He's not gonna try and feed us rock cakes again, is he?" Hermione asked. "You know how I feel about those, Harry. I like my teeth intact, you know."
Harry just grinned at her. "True... and I don't fancy explaining to your dentist parents how you managed to destroy your mouth with a cake."
Hermione just smiled back, displaying her bright white teeth.
Breakfast passed smoothly, and Harry found himself on the nearly frozen path to Hagrid's hut. With Harry's customary knock on the door, along with a 'back, Fang!', Harry was let into the hut."Hello, Harry." Hagrid said, wiping his hands on a small rag. About the size of a bedsheet. King size bedsheet. "I've not seen you for a while."
Harry hung his head with shame. "I know, Hagrid. I'm sorry. Things have just been so... so different. It took me a while to get used to it. I know that's not an excuse, though. Can you forgive me?"
Hagrid just smiled, pulling a large teapot from the shelf. "Course I can! Now, be sitting yourself down, you too, Hermione, and I'll put the tea on. Would you like a cake?"
With identical, panicked headshakes, Harry and Hermione declined. "No, thanks. Just came from the Great Hall."
"Yeah!" Hermione added quickly. "Ate so much for breakfast... just about ready to pop."
Hagrid just shook his head, turning back to the fireplace. Harry leaned closer to Hermione. "You know... I think he actually uses rocks for his cakes." He whispered, watching Hermione try to stifle her giggles. "If we ever have to lay siege on Hogwarts, I think they'll be enough ammunition in here to get through the doors."
Hagrid was soon serving them their tea. "So, Hagrid, what's new with you?"
"Not a lot, Harry." Hagrid replied, biting into a rock cake. There was a strong 'crack', which Harry wasn't sure was the cake or Hagrid's tooth. "Had a few injured unicorns in the forest lately, but apart from that, my job's pretty much the same day-to-day."
"Didn't think anything could catch a unicorn." Hermione said quietly.
"Most things, can't." Hagrid replied simply. "They move too fast except for the most powerful dark magic."
Harry just 'hmm'd'. "Hagrid, do you know anything about why we can't go to that corridor on the third floor?" He asked.
"Well, 'cause of Fluffy, of course." Hagrid said.
"Fluffy?" Harry and Hermione said in unison. "What's a 'Fluffy'?" Hermione asked.
"Uh... I shouldn't have said that." Hagrid stammered.
Harry suddenly sat up. "That reminds me, Hagrid. Do you remember when we went to Diagon Alley?" Hagrid nodded nervously. "You got something from vault 713. That same day, there was a break-in. Do you think they're connected?"
Hagrid started sweating. "Uh... I wouldn't know about that, Harry." He said. "Uh... that was a mission from Professor Dumbledore. Top secret."
Hermione noticed Hagrid's nervousness. "Hagrid, you know more than you're telling."
"N-No..." Hagrid shook his head, taking a quick drink from his tea. "It's nothing to do with me." He said firmly, after taking a moment to fortify himself. "It's to do with Professor Dumbledore, and Nicholas Flamel." He clamped his hand over his mouth.
Thank you, Hagrid. Harry thought victoriously. It's nice to know that you're as effortlessly predictable as ever. He really couldn't fault Hagrid, though. He was one of the most open people Harry had ever met. An innocent child in a giant's body.
"I shouldn't have said that. Should not have said that." Became Hagrid's mantra as the two youths left the hut.
"I love Hagrid to bits," Harry said as they snuck away, "but the poor fella can't keep a secret to save his life." He smiled. "I wonder if, when we get to 6th year, we can get him involved in those Friday night study sessions that Vector thinks nobody knows about. What does she call them? 'Advanced Studies in Probability Matrices'."
"What?"
"Poker. Let's face it, Hagrid'd be bankrupt before your chair's warmed up."
Hermione just snickered for a moment, before she sobered up. "I've heard that name before." She said, her eyes glazing over as she started to search through her memory.
"So have I." Harry said, recognising the signs of Hermione's search. "I'll save you the time." Hermione's eyes became sharper. "He's on the back on Dumbledore's chocolate frog card. He's an alchemist. He and Professor Dumbledore found the twelve uses of Dragon's Blood in the early part of the century."
Hermione clicked her fingers. "That's it! I knew I've read about him. He's the only person in the last twelve centuries to make the Philosopher's Stone."
Harry stopped in his tracks. "Do you think that's what's being hidden on the third floor?"
"It must be." Hermione said, taking his hand, and pulling him forward, shouting her unknown battle cry. "Quickly, Harry, to the library!"
"Five hours, Hermione!" Harry moaned. "You can be so cruel, sometimes!""Honestly, Harry!" Hermione lectured. "Five hours in the library is not cruel."
"On a Saturday." Harry hissed. The two had returned to the common room after Harry's moaning got the better of her. "You don't think its evil dragging me to the library for five hours on a Saturday?"
Hermione just shrugged. "Not really."
"You scare me, sometimes." Harry said, parroting Ron from the original time-line. "You're brilliant, don't get me wrong, but scary."
Hermione preened under being called 'brilliant', but ignored the 'scary' part. "Thank you, Harry. I only wish we could have found out more about him."
Harry thought for a moment. "Since I strongly suspect you half have the library tucked into your dorm room, why don't you check to see if you have any books in there."
Without bothering to respond, Hermione dashed for the stairs. Man, she's got ground speed.Harry trotted up to his dorm room, grabbing his Wizarding wireless and The Spy Who Loved Me from his trunk, and made his way back downstairs. He tuned the wireless to a Muggle station, and sat reading his book.
Hedwig made her way into the common room through an open window. Harry raised his arm without looking, letting her settle, before she jumped up to his shoulder. She looked down at the book, appearing to intently read when Hermione made her way downstairs.
It was such a cute moment, seeing the two reading on the couch. Hermione just stopped and stared for a moment, before she came over. She plopped on the couch next to Harry, before reaching up to scratch Hedwig, who looked at her for a second, hooted at her, and went back to his reading.
A new song came onto the radio, causing Harry's head to start bobbing in time to the music. To Hermione's endless amusement, Hedwig started bobbing in sync with Harry, still reading over his shoulder.
"To the left..." Harry's head bobbed to the left, Hedwig's still in perfect sync, both still reading. "To the right..." Both did a double bob to the right, still reading the book.
I would kill for a camcorder right now. Hermione thought, totally abandoning any thoughts of Nicholas Flamel or the Philosopher's Stone.
Harry closed his book, looking at his bobbing owl, before she jumped off his shoulder, and landed on the coffee table. Harry stood up, stretching, before looking over at Hedwig, who nodded eagerly.
"To the left... to the right... take it back, now, y'all." Harry did the motions, sliding across the floor, while Hedwig mirrored him on the coffee table. Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, watching boy and owl dance in perfect unison.
"One hop this time!" Hedwig hopped forward on the table, while Harry jumped forward. Throughout the song, the two copied each other's actions, dancing the whole way through, amber eyes locked on emerald.
Hermione was entranced. How does an owl learn to cha cha?
The song, lasting just over four minutes, had managed to gather quite a number of Ravenclaw students. Hedwig looked up, seeing the watchers, and hooted loudly, bringing Harry's attention firmly back to the present.
Bugger. He looked around, before blushing, and slumping back into his chair, picking up his book, and not looking up. Hermione threw herself onto the couch next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Well, I thought you looked adorable." She said softly, grasping his free hand. "You and Hedwig were very pretty."
Pretty? Boys don't do pretty. We do butch, and manly. Ruggedly handsome, if we've got faces like granite, but pretty? No! Harry thought, amused with Hermione's description. "It's a shame you didn't get up and dance with me." The momentary panic on Hermione's face made Harry chuckle. "You'd have done good up there."
She just shook her head, shuddering lightly at the thought.
January 25th. Saturday. 11 o'clock. Harry's first Quidditch match. Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor.It wasn't really fair. Harry'd been a member of that team for six years, and knew the plays the team used. Plus, Wood's maniacal enthusiasm for the game made his predictable, if you knew his moves. And Harry did.
Lee Jordan introduced the teams. "Welcome to the third game of the season! The Birds vs. the Lions! Introducing first... Gryffindor! Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood, Chasers Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Beaters Fred and George Weasley, and Seeker Cormac McLaggen!"
The seven crimson-clad Gryffindors sailed onto the pitch, moving smoothly. Harry almost burst out laughing when he heard that Cormac was playing Seeker. The arrogant braggart knew next to nothing about Quidditch. What he did know was how to be pompous and annoying.
"And now, Ravenclaw! Captain and Chaser, Roger Davies, Chasers, Cho Chang and Bradley Erickson, Keeper Sarah Fawcett, Beaters Eddie Carmichael and Robert Lucas, and Seeker Harry Potter!" The Ravenclaws flew out in formation, each determined to do their best, Cho relieved that she didn't have to be the Seeker, a position she would've been forced to play, if Harry wasn't available.
The teams got into position above the centre of the pitch, with the hawk-eyed Madam Hooch stood on the ground, one foot on the case containing the Quidditch balls.
Harry hovered just above and to the front of Fred and George. "Hey, fellas." He said casually.
The twins looked up, identical grins on their faces. "'ickle Harrikins." They said in unison.
"So, you're going for the Plostoy gambit, aren't ya?" Harry asked, watching their faces drop. "Yeah, wouldn't do that one if I were you."
"How do-" Fred started.
"you know?" George finished.
Harry just winked. The snitch appeared in front of him, before vanishing. Hooch's whistle blew. Harry shot forward, watching McLaggen start to chase him.
Time for a little fun! He thought, racing towards the Gryffindor goal posts. McLaggen followed recklessly, not really paying attention, just pouring on speed, trying to pace Harry, who raced round the goal post, before accelerating to his Nimbus' top speed, bypassing the other seeker easily. He rocketed down the pitch, drawing level with Katie Bell, who was clutching the Quaffle to her chest.
"Hey, Katie." Harry said, flying parallel to her. She tried to shake him off, but Harry's abilities with a broom were unsurpassed. "You're looking very pretty today. Is that a new lipstick?"
Davies, at that moment, knocked the Quaffle from Katie's hands, straight into the waiting arms of Erickson, who shot towards the Gryffindor goals. Katie looked murderously at Harry, who simply winked, blew her a kiss and pulled away.
Harry raced towards McLaggen, playing a little game of chicken while he waited for the snitch to appear. He knew from experience that it wouldn't show up for at least ten minutes, giving him a chance to taunt the Gryffindors. McLaggen saw him coming and 'eeped', before racing away. Harry chased after him, watching Ravenclaw take two shots on goal, only to have them knocked away by Oliver Wood.
Hmm... he's too good. Let's see if we can shake him up a little.Harry soared towards the goal posts, pulling his broom to a halt just behind the centre goal.
"Hey, Ollie." Harry called. "You're looking very good today. In fact, watching you sit there, I've never wanted to be a broom so much in my life. D'you wanna go get a drink after the game?"
Oliver turned round, just as Cho sent the Quaffle through the left hoop, scoring the first goal of the game. Wood stared at the goal hoop, before turning back to glare at Harry, but he'd already flown off, flying in between the Weasley twins.
"Wotcher, chaps." He said, flying perfectly in between them, even as they batted Bludgers at the Ravenclaw chasers. "If there's a party after the match, d'you boys fancy coming up to the tower to celebrate the Ravenclaw win? You know we'd be happy to have you there."
"Harry, are you trying to distract us?" George asked.
"Well... yes." Harry replied, a sloth grip roll allowing him to roll underneath the path of a Bludger, before it smacked into George's broom, knocking the other boy off the broom. Harry's seeker reflexes reacted on instinct, grabbing George out of the air, and holding him steady until he could recover the broom.
"And Potter saves Weasley from a nasty spill!" Jordan's voice called out. "Not against the rules, but not something you see everyday!"
George looked at Harry oddly, before he suddenly pulled away, leaving Harry to concentrate on finding the Snitch.
"And Alicia Spinnet scores for Gryffindor! That's ten-all! No sign of the snitch yet, but both seekers are hunting for it now!"
Harry's raspberry blowing while flying upside down forced George Weasley to miss hit a Bludger, watching the heavy iron ball smash Angelina Johnson firmly in the calf, the wet smack of bruised flesh echoing around the pitch, while Cho shot forward on her Cleansweep 8, scooping up the dropped Quaffle and scoring a magnificent solo goal.
At that point, Harry's main worry about the game came true. His broomstick started bucking like a wild horse. Bollocks! Quirrell, you rotten bastard, couldn't you have let me have one game in peace?Harry hung on as his broom tried to throw him off, when he suddenly let go.
Hermione was watching in the stands, Hagrid stood behind her, seeing Harry on the broom."That's not right." Hagrid proclaimed loudly. "Something's interfering with Harry's broom." The two watched Harry let go of the broom, being thrown forward a good six feet, before gravity asserted its hold.
"Ha! The stupid bird can't even stay on his broom!" Ron Weasley was laughing, Seamus laughing sycophantically along, while Neville looked at the redhead with a look of pity and disgust. Checking left and right, he stamped down hard on Ron's foot, relishing the feel of snapping metatarsal, while looking innocently at the chasers for both teams battling throughout the sky.Harry thrust one hand towards the ground, stopping his momentum completely. The second hand went towards his broom, trying to summon the broom forward.A second attack, this one a brutal Legilimency assault, crackled around his mental shields. With using so much of his power holding himself a hundred feet in the air, Harry felt far more pain than normal.
Get out! Get out! GET OUT! He mind-screamed, turning his head towards the teacher's box, where he saw Quirrell staring at him. You want in my mind? How's this! With that, Harry sent his memory of being hit by Voldemort's killing curse ten years ago. It wouldn't kill Quirrell, but it would... There it was! Quirrell fell backwards off his seat, knocking his head on the bench behind.
Harry reached forward for his broom, Accio running through his mind. However, fate was obviously still pissed with him, as a Bludger hit him square in the small of his back, pushing him forward to collide with the broom. With an explosive 'pah', the breath was knocked from his lungs, and for a moment, all he could do was hang onto his broomstick.
With a monumental effort, Harry forced his head up, gasping for breath. When he stopped seeing spots, he slowly, painfully, hauled himself back onto his broom, before flying gently forward. Marvellous! Harry thought viciously. I get the crap knocked out of me, and now I see the bloody snitch! With an agonised grunt, Harry reached forward, grasping the snitch.
"And Harry Potter's caught the snitch!" Lee's voice sounded. "Ravenclaw wins, 200 to 60!" He tried, really, to keep the disappointment out his voice as he announced his own house losing.
Harry let the broom drop down gently, where he saw Hermione waiting, her face pale, with tiny crescent shapes embedded in the flesh along her jawline. She's been gripping her face again. Harry thought idly, as he started to grow very cold. Oh, crap... I'm going into shock! He landed next to Hermione, who grabbed him in a hug.
"Oh, Harry, I was so worried!" She said, looking into his eyes. "Are you okay?"
Harry shook his head, before tottering forward a few steps, colliding with Hagrid. "Hagrid?" He asked, his voice distant.
"Harry?" The giant replied, looking concerned.
"Catch me." Harry slumped forward, to be scooped up by the half-giant. That was the last he knew.