The Lie I've Lived
Plans are Subject to Change
By JBern
Author Notes:
Disclaimer — Still don’t own Harry Potter and making no money off of this.
Acknowledgements — As always a big thanks to Alpha Fight Club for helping me iron out the issues.
Changes you may notice from Canon — The GoF timeline on HP-Lexicon.org seems off. It has September 1st on a Monday, when in fact the actual calendar was Thursday. I also opted to make the World Cup the night before returning to school. The Disillusionment charm has been made substantially inferior to an invisibility cloak.
Chapter 6 — Plans are Subject to Change
Wednesday August 31st, 1994
Disillusionment charms don’t have the longest shelf life — a couple of minutes max. Certain spells and devices can defeat the charm and there’s also a ‘dead’ time before I can reapply it. It’s the reason people covet invisibility cloaks. Mine just happens to be in Ollie’s flat. Fat lot of good it does me there! Listening to the screams and dodging the few remaining people fleeing into the woods, I weave my way through the rows of burning tents, some of them spilling their contents out onto the ground as the magically folded space inside them gives way. This can work to my advantage. I need to get closer to see what this group of ‘Death Eaters’ is doing.
‘Flatten out, HJ! They could still see the distortion patterns! Watch for stray spells!’ The Hat sounds like it’s a little panicked.
‘Buck up mate! When’s the last time you saw any combat? You did say you wanted some excitement this summer.’
‘The Headmaster’s office is looking better all of the sudden. It’s been over five hundred years since I was in danger.’
‘I seem to recall you, me, and the mother of all serpents a couple of years ago.’ They’re still not breaking up! Maybe they’re just a bunch of hooligans inciting a riot?
‘That was just you. What would a Basilisk possibly do with me?’
‘Remind me later and I’ll answer that question. Looks like they’ve got the Muggles who were in charge of the campground. It’s always nice to see people picking on the defenseless. Come on, break up! There! Looks like some of them are splitting off and looking for some plunder. I’m going to circle left.’
Swiftly moving through the debris, I spot the duo summoning brooms and trunks from the wreckage. Death Eaters? I still don’t know, but petty thieves at the very least. Piss on them! I banish a burning wagon right at them. One spots it and dives to the side. The other gets buried along with the pilfered goods in his hands.
"Telum Glacis!" The one diving out of the way sends a spear of ice right at me. Okay, kid gloves are off. I dodge the ice javelin and whip a fast bludgeoner back towards the Death Eater. He’ll shield it — no doubt, but this is a combo move. Swirling my wand and chanting in Latin, I gesture at the shattered barrel next to the man trying to cast his next spell.
James Potter was rather good at charms, hexes and jinxes, but he had been excellent at Transfiguration. Ever since I sorted out the whole James left-handed and me right-handed thing, I’ve been waiting to really cut loose. Dobby, the maniacal elf, can only shroud so much magic and only the most rudimentary Transfiguration and Conjuration is beyond his capacity to conceal.
Morphing into a large, wooden claw the animated barrel leaps at the Death Eater. Dueling with Transfiguration is about using your surroundings and the underlying principle of C.A.T.S. — Conjure, Animate, Transfigure, and Succeed. On the dueling platform empty of debris, it requires a fighter to begin to litter — typically using rope or chain link conjurations. If your opponent is foolish enough to allow the debris to accumulate, that’s when they really get into trouble.
On a battlefield filled with flotsam and jetsam, a person well-grounded in the subtle art of Transfiguration and Animation can be a rather nasty opponent. Transfiguration over a distance requires control, power and focus. I’ve got the power and it’s amazing what a bit of adrenaline can do for focus. Control is a bit off and the claw isn’t nearly as well-defined as I’d like, but I’m not about to complain. My opponent struggles with the barrel claw for a brief second until my second stunner catches him in the face. He was thrashing too much for the first one to get him.
In the sky above, someone’s set off the Dark Mark. Not a good sign. I would curse myself for allowing that sight to distract me, but someone else beat me to it. I suppose there’s a lesson to be learned in all this — when burying a person under a burning object, don’t expect them to stay down or be terribly pleased with you afterwards. I eat a fairly hefty bludgeoner that tosses me onto one of the few still standing tents. All my breath comes rushing out and Hat goes flying off my head. I flail breathing raggedly, momentarily tangled in the fabric trying to raise a shield, but a disarming charm hits, separating me from my wand.
Clutching my bruised side, and hoping the damage isn’t too severe, I burrow my way out from under the tent and see the second Death Eater towering above me. Portions of his robe are still smoldering. My wand held like a trophy in his hand.
"Of all the people for me to come across — the famous Harry Potter . . . . What a stroke of luck! So eager to play with the adults already, but we don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief — Crucio!"
Raw pain courses through my body. Screaming, I collapse face down into the dirt. I feel the extra pain of a metal tent spike gouging my leg. He holds it for what seems like an eternity, but was probably only five seconds. "Look at the helpless little hero! Do you want me to kill you? You deserve it you know? I’ll even use your own wand to do it. Would you like that?"
"Hey you!" I hear a familiar voice yell. It distracts him and I make my move.
He gets his answer, just not the one he expects. Pulling the spike out of my leg, I wandlessly banish it. Gloating is for idiots. Sometimes it’ll earn you a tent spike through the neck. Gurgling blood, with the sign of his master in the sky overhead, he collapses. Through the fog of pain still surrounding me, I surge forward and rip my wand from his grasp. He’s too far gone for what little I could do for him already. Even if he isn’t, I’m not inclined to provide comfort and assistance to a man who was using an Unforgivable on me a few seconds ago. Instead, I look towards my own safety first. There could be others and I’m not in good shape. Turning, I search for the source of the voice and see the Sorting Hat on the ground.
"You’re rusty HJ. That one almost had you." I mutter a quick spell that closes the wound in my calf. Cuts and bruises I can do something about. Cracked ribs are beyond me. That’s a long and painful looking walk to the tree line. I scan for further signs of movement and see none.
"Almost doesn’t count, Hat. Thanks for buying me the second I needed." I summon it back to me and put it on my head. While we wait, I decide to ‘dumb down’ my spell casting and look more like a fourth year who got lucky. First I levitate a few items and banish them. Thankfully, the Death Eater used his own wand to cast the torture curse. I don’t have to clear that one.
The transfigured claw is still tightly wrapped around the other one. I dispel it and bind him in standard ropes, stunning him once more for good measure and taking his wand. A jet of water douses the burning wagon and I slide in behind it. Next bad guy that comes along gets ambushed. Running for it quite frankly doesn’t appeal to me right now. Flying is an option, but one of the brooms they were filching is snapped and I detect a possession charm on the second one. Switching my wand to my left hand, I feel my rib cage and press against the pain. Nothing seems to be floating free, which means cracked or just bruised. Painful, but not life threatening.
It’s a good guess that the Death Eaters won’t linger. They’re hit and run artists. If I stagger off, there’s a chance that the stunned one wakes up and escapes. So, I’ll wait about ten minutes and set off wand sparks to attract attention.
From my hiding spot I stare at the giant serpent in the skull hovering above me. This is a bad way to start off a new school year. I’ve never been a fan of divination, but even I can spot a bad omen.
------
Amelia Bones looks like the picture of efficiency on the raised stage in the center of the room. I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Three cracked ribs and a quaffle-sized bruise on my chest are to blame - pain potions not withstanding! "This is an official Ministry of Law Enforcement inquest into the events of last night — including the physical assault on Mr. Harry Potter, the subsequent death of Reginald Yaxley and the capture of Vincent Crabbe, Senior. Mr. Potter, allow me to stress that you are not facing any charges at this time and we appreciate your participation despite your injuries. We’ll do our level best to get you out of here and on your way to school."
I should be getting off the train in Hogsmeade right now. Instead, I sitting in a Ministry courtroom after spending a rather trying night in St. Mungo’s getting my chest examined. It’s no surprise that I’m cranky and irritable on less than one hour of sleep. Arthur Weasley sitting next to me places a comforting hand on my right shoulder as I look over at Dumbledore acting in his ‘official capacity’. He gives me a reassuring smile complete with the twinkling eyes.
"What have you learned thus far, Amelia?" Fudge asks nervously. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who didn’t have the best of nights. All eyes are on Wizarding Britain right now and things aren’t looking good for Fudge. On one hand, the man dragged Hagrid off to Azkaban just to be seen ‘doing something’. On the other hand, he pretty much laughed off what happened to Aunt Marge last year. Bagnold was the one who sent Sirius away without a trial, so I’ll reserve judgment on Cornelius Fudge right now.
"According to sworn statements there were at least a dozen persons wearing Death Eater garb. The clothing and masks worn by Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Yaxley were authentic and not simply transfigured for the occasion. The appearance and subsequent spell discharge badly damaged the camp site. An examination of their wands indicates numerous destructive spells. It is important to note that the final spell cast by Mr. Yaxley’s wand was the Cruciatus Curse."
There’s a collective gasp from the small audience and several of them now openly stare at me. Arthur gives me a look of both shock and pity. All I could do is nod at him. Beyond my chest injuries, my entire body is still aching. A powerful enough caster can make the effects of the curse last for weeks, so I’ll definitely be in pain for the foreseeable future.
Clearing her throat, Madame Bones continues, "We have taken the statement from the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts indicating that it accompanied Mr. Potter to the World Cup with the permission of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."
"Is it still here?"
Dumbledore leans forward. "No, I sent it along to Hogwarts for the Sorting Ceremony. Both Madame Bones and I questioned it extensively while Mr. Potter was being tended."
One upside to having the memories of James Potter running around my head is I do know how to get my story straight. Provided the Hat didn’t deviate from our story, I’ll look like a kid who fought well, but not wandlessly.
"Mr. Potter, will you please tell us in your own words about your experiences from yesterday."
Taking a sip from the water in front of me, I begin, "Well, things were happening pretty quickly. The Hat and I saw a whole group of them together. Most everyone else had already run off, so we tried to lay low and not be spotted. If we had started to run, we’d have stood out like a sore thumb. They started breaking up and a few of them were still terrorizing the Muggles. So, I kept my wand out and tried to hide as best I could. Two of them came around summoning brooms, trunks and other things from the wreckage. When they cleared some of the debris out from in front of me, I figured I couldn’t hide anymore. I banished a cart at them."
"So, you attacked them first." I’d recognize Lucius Malfoy’s voice anywhere.
"They were the ones wearing Death Eater costumes and looting, Mr. Malfoy."
"Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind to allow Mr. Potter to continue. I would remind you that you are a guest at these proceedings. I can and will have you removed." It’s nice to know that someone hasn’t been bought off by his gold. Hopefully Edgar, his family, and Amelia’s deceased fiancé Benjy Fenwick are smiling somewhere right now.
"My sincerest apologies, Madame Bones. Please, child, do continue." I have to hand it to Lucius. First, he implicates me and, upon being rebuffed, he tries to marginalize me. If I didn’t know he was trying to get me angry, it’d probably work.
"The one that dodged the cart — I guess that was Mr. Crabbe — threw some kind of spell at me. All I saw was a flash in the dark and something went flying past me. I sent a bludgeoner at him."
"For clarification of the inquest and Mr. Potter’s personal benefit, the spell used and identified from Mr. Crabbe’s wand was ‘Telum Glacis’ — or the ice spear." A quiet murmur spreads through the crowd. The ‘I was just out having some fun’ defense doesn’t hold up when a bloke starts trying to impale people with a chunk of ice.
"My bludgeoner must have clipped him and sent him stumbling; I eventually caught him with a stunner and bound him in some ropes."
"Pardon my interruption again, but I as I recall, the basic stunner is taught until Mr. Potter’s fourth year, which is starting as we speak. Similarly, the Incarcerus rope-binding charm is fifth year material."
I can see Madame Bones bristling and trying to compose a reply. Malfoy’s baiting her now and trying to disrupt the proceedings. I intervene. "Do you have a point? What year do they teach people to hurl ice spears or use Unforgivables? For that matter, where were you after the World Cup last night?"
Despite my attempt to draw him out, Lucius just smiles and answers coolly, "I was on my way to the post-victory festivities with my son. I was in the company of my wife and several guests. No, I was merely saluting you on demonstrating the initiative to learn spells beyond your year."
"Was it a masked ball? There are people who weren’t happy that I somehow managed to send their master away. I make it a point to know how to defend myself."
Dumbledore sweeps in, "Indeed, commendable and worthy of acknowledgement, Harry. Now if we can continue. I believe we were talking about Mr. Crabbe using a potentially lethal spell and Mr. Potter subduing him. Please continue, Harry."
Taking a calming breath and another sip of water, I say, "Anyway, it took me a couple of stunners to hit the Death Eater. During that time someone set off the Dark Mark."
"You didn’t witness either of the two you encountered triggering the Dark Mark?" Fudge asks.
Amelia turns to her superior and gestures to a map displayed on the wall, "Minster, the Mark was sent from the edge of the forest. Mr. Potter and the two suspects were in this area here. In addition to those reporting financial losses to the Ministry this morning, Mr. Ollivander has reported numerous people at his store this morning purchasing replacement wands. We’ve asked that he retain a list of any new wands he sells in the next two weeks."
Arthur whispers in my ear, "Charlie lost his somewhere along the way."
I nod, storing away the fact that Charlie isn’t necessarily good in a fight. "The other Death Eater got out from under the cart and caught me with a bludgeoner. It hurt quite a bit and tossed me quite a ways. He fired a disarming charm, but it missed."
"Our reports indicate that Mr. Yaxley used a disarming charm and a summoning charm at this point. In the darkness, Mr. Yaxley must have incorrectly assumed that he had disarmed Mr. Potter. I know this must be difficult for you, young man but please continue. . ."
"After that he used the Unforgivable on me. He let it off for a second and that’s when I banished a bunch of stuff laying around on the ground at him."
"According to attending Mediwitch at St. Mungo’s, Mr. Potter suffered three cracked ribs, two bruised ribs and numerous contusions and lacerations. He also demonstrated symptoms consistent with exposure to Cruciatus curse, including ruptured blood vessels. Mr. Yaxley was slain by an object embedded in his neck. Blood was found on the inside of the mask and allows us to conclude that he was wearing the mask at the time of his death. Records show that he was among those that had claimed to have been bewitched by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and was never charged."
"Amelia, what of your efforts to find Sirius Black? Is it possible that he could be the mastermind of this utter embarrassment to our country?"
I grumble under my breath, but Fudge is drawing a natural conclusion as the Minister of Law Enforcement answers, "We currently believe that he is out of the country, Minister. Our search is currently focused on working with the Ministries in the rest of Europe and North America. With last night’s events, I am planning to reduce the Aurors outside England and intensifying our search inside the country. With the Tournament taking place and the number of complaints from parents of the students, I do not recommend using the Dementors at Hogwarts."
The crowd seems to be of a general consensus that Dementors around children are a bad thing. I’m not inclined to argue that point, since there is going to be a small horde of foreigners at the school, it would be doubly so.
"Minister, if I may, perhaps bringing in known former associates of Sirius Black, such as the Werewolf Lupin for questioning might prove fruitful in the search." Shit! Lucius is spinning this towards Sirius and Fudge is buying into it.
Quickly, I fire back, "Minister, if I may, perhaps bringing in known associates of Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Yaxley would be more fruitful. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, were they on the list of the people expected at your post-victory party?"
Sternly, but with a hint of a smile Amelia Bones regards me, "Mr. Potter, it is not your place, nor is it Mr. Malfoy’s, to speculate on what course of action my Department will be taking, but I do thank both of you for your suggestions. Now let us discuss Mr. Crabbe. He claims to have no memories of last evening."
"Was he Obliviated?" Being reduced to a spectator, I slide a second pain potion out of my borrowed plain robes and down some. I wonder how much it cost Malfoy to get in long enough to alter Crabbe’s memories.
"Possibly, he shows signs consistent with it, but we had Aurors stationed at his room."
"Who was the first to examine him?"
A voice very familiar to my memories answers, "That would be me." I look at the grizzled frame of Alastor Moody standing from the gallery.
"The Ministry thanks you for your service Alastor, but reminds you that you are retired from active duty. Proper protocol would have been to allow those on active service to examine him first."
"Sorry to run roughshod over your boys, Amy, a horde of goblins couldn’t have stopped me from looking into rumors of Dark Wizards running loose. Retired from the force I may be, but I’m always keeping an eye on things and people." There isn’t much doubt where that crazy eye of his was focused — directly on Lucius Malfoy.
Dumbledore’s turn, "Indeed, Alastor has been kind enough to accept a teaching position this year. I take the welfare of my students very seriously and would greatly prefer that the Dementors remain at Azkaban." I cock an eyebrow. Moody teaching children! That must have been some conversation between the two of them! I would have loved to have been in on that one. Moody had taught James quite a bit. The old Auror wasn’t the most powerful wand around, but he made up for it in guile. I guess that answers the ‘who’s teaching DADA?’ question this year and here I am thinking that it’s going to be a boring year!
For the most part, the rest of the inquest fails to hold my attention. Perhaps it’s the pain or the lack of sleep — most likely both. Crabbe Senior will be charged with one count of inciting a riot, one count of looting, one count of conspiracy to commit mayhem, and one count of aggravated assault. Arthur speaks up to inquire why not attempted murder, but Madame Bones answers that since I had attacked first, they couldn’t be assured of making the attempted murder charge stick. The assault charge can’t really be disputed. My classmate is looking at not seeing his Daddy for the next five to fifteen years depending on what the Wizengamot decides. It’s not much, but it’s something.
Finally, realizing that I’m still here and in pain, they blissfully release Mr. Weasley to escort me to Hogwarts. We Floo back to the Burrow, where I get a brief bit of entertainment watching Arthur fend off his wife as she tries to examine me. I’m going to spend the first night or two in the Infirmary. Ollie stopped by in the wee hours of my pain-filled morning and I had him send Dobby and my stuff on to Hogwarts.
A check of the time and I see I’ve missed my opportunity to hear the Sorting Hat’s song. I’ll have to get it to tell me what it ended up doing.
A Thestral carriage and two Aurors are waiting for us at the Three Broomsticks, compliments of Madame Bones. I recognize Kingsley Shacklebolt, but not the attractive pink-haired trainee with him. I’m in too much pain to even be interested in flirting with her even after I find out she’s Andy Tonks’ not-so-little girl. I vaguely recall that she was a seventh year ‘Claw, when I first started here — for the second time. That means she must be finishing up her Auror training and be assigned to a field agent now. Kingsley looks thrilled at his ‘chatterbox’ of a partner as she grills me about my encounter with a "No Shit Death Eater". She’s rather exuberant.
They follow us inside and I am brought to the Infirmary. Arthur leans in close, "The boy in your year, Peter Yaxley is Reginald Yaxley’s nephew. His twin daughters are named Theresa and Amanda. They are second year Slytherins. From what I gather, you’ve never been well liked in that house and this certainly is not going to help. Like most other purebloods, there are plenty of distant cousins all around. You were even probably related to him in some manner. No matter what anyone tells you, Harry, you did what you needed to do. They’ll try to call you a murderer, but don’t listen to them! Understand me? Any man that uses that curse on a child deserves killing. I’m proud of the way you handled yourself back in the inquest and on the battlefield. Be extra careful this year. I, for one, don’t like how things are starting out. If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m just an owl away."
I graciously accept a loose hug from the man, who carefully avoids my injured areas, and remind myself that he thinks he’s dealing with a fourteen-year-old who has just been tortured and has just killed a man. Arthur was never really much good in a fight. He might not stack up very well when wands come out, but there’s more to living than just fighting, and there are other lessons I can learn from him.
------
Using a Dreamless Sleep potion can often be compared to being whacked in the head with a mallet. Coming out of it, I feel like my head is full of cobwebs and weighs about three times what it is supposed to. I’m rested, but right on cue, the aches and pains start up again. A look at the clock on the wall tells me I’m missing a class, not that I really care or even know where I should be. For the moment, I’m alone, but I can see that the beds around me have been sat on and there are two additional chairs placed in the aisle at the foot of my bed. Looks like I had plenty of visitors.
"Ah Mr. Potter, again I find you under my care. Flying cars, exposure to Dementors, and now the Cruciatus Curse — I’m beginning to wonder what exactly you do during the summer. How are you feeling after a night’s rest?"
I smile at the nurse; she’s somewhat sweet on me. "Dazed, confused and sore — everywhere."
"I have a regimen of potions that you’ll need to adhere to for the next seven days. They’ll lessen the effects of your injuries. The redness in your eyes will fade as the blood vessels heal."
"Where did the potions come from?" I ask, wondering if I look in a mirror, would I look like Voldemort?
"They were shipped over from St. Mungo’s. Why do you ask?"
"May I be candid with you?"
"Certainly," she answers.
"I killed a former Death Eater at the World Cup. I’d rather not be drinking something brewed by another former Death Eater, if I can help it." I have a few other reasons to dislike Snape, but this is the most plausible and the one that she’ll have to take seriously. Might as well start chipping away at him here. It’s not like I’m doing anything else right now. My original plan had been to ‘entertain’ myself by harassing Snape at every turn. That plan needs to be revised now that Death Eaters are openly wearing their garb again. I’m not going to sit in a class full of their children, who probably played dress up at some point with their parents’ cloaks and masks. No, a room full of pissed-off Slytherins and containers of dangerous chemicals aren’t a healthy combination for me.
She looks horrified and starts to rise to Snape’s defense, but I cut her off. "There were about a dozen of them. Who knows who was under those cloaks? All I ask is that if I require a potion for routine treatment that you either brew it or have it brought from St. Mungo’s."
The witch in front of me looks very thoughtful. "Provided it isn’t an emergency situation and it doesn’t interfere with treatment of any other patients, I’ll grant that request. You’ve been in here far too often for my liking and you’re not even at the halfway point yet." Taking on a lighter tone she smiles, "Now, I have to have a few elves in here to straighten up before all your guests arrive."
-----
I’m swamped with visitors during lunchtime. The Katie versus Ginny ‘war’ continues to simmer, as each tries to get close to me. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione came straight here after Transfiguration let out and I strategically place them in the spots next to me. The rest of the fourth years were right behind them. Everyone wants to ask me about the fight, the poor deluded fools see glory and heroism. What I saw is blood spurting out of a man’s neck, while I made sure my I didn’t have a punctured lung.
One noticeable absence is Neville. In the past, he usually popped in during my stays in the Infirmary, but I’m sure this hits far too close to home for him. I can’t blame him one bit. When I ask about the Hat’s song at the sorting feast, the only comments I get are that it was somewhat long and kind of boring. That doesn’t sound like anything the Hat was planning, though it did once say that on more than one occasion, it simply recycles a song it used three or four hundred years ago. I’ll have to ask it, the first chance I get.
Hermione seems upset about the fact that Hogwarts uses House Elves. I almost want to ask her if she thought Filch cleaned the place by himself, but I hold my tongue. She’s so brilliant that even I sometimes forget that she is woefully naïve about the magical world. Come to think of it, I was too!
All Ron can talk about is the Tournament and everyone seems to agree that the age limit is grossly unfair. Maybe it’s the aches and pain, the fact that I nearly died — again — the other night, or the notion that these kids couldn’t possibly be ready for the kind of challenges involved, but I actually want to side with the adults on this one. A Potter had finished runner-up in it once, six hundred years ago. Around four hundred and fifty years ago, another Potter died during the infamous ‘Tournament That No One Won’.
Both Ron and Hermione are a bit put off by the large number of Gryffindors surrounding us. I’m pretty certain that they were expecting ‘alone’ time and not the entire common room tagging along.
"Harry, it’s not just an individual competition, there’s also going to be an All-School team and Professor McGonagall says I might have the opportunity to compete on it! There will be debates and demonstrations! It all sounds rather exciting." Sounds like they must have revived the team competitions; usually those are the rules when it’s hosted at Beauxbatons. I wonder if the folks from Durmstrang insisted on concessions as well. Their rules usually require more tasks than the three that the ‘Hogwarts Rules’ typically use. I opt not to discuss the fact that I have studied up on the Tournament.
Part of me wouldn’t mind competing, probably the left over glory hound, but I’m not going anywhere near the Goblet of Fire. There are at least three ways I could get around an age line. The easiest is Occlumency. If the line can’t sense a person, it can’t eject them. A powerful enough Confundus charm would override the settings on the age line, but that would be fairly obvious. Finally, I could shift into my Animagus form, again obvious, but effective nonetheless. That’s just off the top of my head! After James lost his parents, he briefly lived with a distant relation, who used an age line around the liquor cabinet. It stopped James for roughly two days. He was drunk for the rest of those three weeks, but this year I’m turning over a new leaf — a leaf that involves doing my utmost to avoid life and death situations.
After fending off the question for the third time the door opens and Malfoy enters. It must have been boring on the train this year. Naturally, Crabbe and Goyle are flanking him. Behind them are the rest of the Slytherin fourth years including a red-faced Peter Yaxley.
"So this is what a murderer looks like. Frankly, I’m surprised they let you come back to school, Potter. Hopefully, Father can lobby to have you removed." I split my attention between Malfoy and Yaxley. Crabbe won’t do a damn thing, but Yaxley just might. I ease my wand out of the holster and keep it concealed under the covers.
Everyone seems to be waiting for me to respond, "You see your father all the time, Draco. That’s the face of a real murderer, and an ass-kisser to boot. That little mark he claims was forced on him — you have to kill to get that mark. If he hadn’t been sacked from the Board of Governor’s, I’m sure he’d be doing more than just lobbying for my removal. I guess money can’t buy everything — can it?"
"My father is a great man!" Honestly, this is too easy. Harry Potter might have had problems with this little ponce, but HJ doesn’t need to break a sweat. How did I ever miss the giant buttons following him around just waiting to be pushed?
"By his own admission he was bewitched by Voldemort." I enjoy all the flinches from everyone but the Muggleborns. "So, he was either too weak to break free or he’s a lying killer, who used his money to buy his way out of prison. Which is it, Draco?"
I can see his mind working the problem. He can’t get around it, and so he ignores it. "It doesn’t make you any less of a killer."
"I can’t argue with you there, Draco. I had to kill in self-defense — the only regret is that it wasn’t your father under that mask, but I didn’t really have a choice. Before you get any cute little ideas about playing dress up like you did with the Dementors last year, only this time slipping on little Death Eater masks, you’ll see how I respond."
"Threatening my students, Potter? Perhaps there is some credence to their argument that you are a violent menace." I had been wondering when Snape would arrive. A nice room filled with lots of witnesses, I couldn’t ask for any better.
"Where were you the other night, Death Eater?" I hear several sharp intakes of breath at my accustation.
"That will be a week of detention for your disrespect, Potter. I’d take points, but your house doesn’t have any yet."
"You wanted to see a murderer, Malfoy, there’s one right there. How about a quick history lesson, Professor Death Eater? How many people did you kill to ‘earn’ your Dark Mark? Did you play with the females before or even after?" Sirius once said that the only way a girl would get into bed with Snape was if she was dead. It was the start of a wonderful series of ‘Necro-Snapey’ jokes that ran throughout the Marauders’ fifth year. If I resurrected the magical cartoons on the bathroom walls, would it be too obvious?
The temperature in the room must have dropped twenty degrees. I enjoy seeing his face twist angrily and I avert my eyes the moment I felt him start to bore into me. "Potter, when I am through with you . . ."
"Professor Snape!" exclaimed a rather irate looking Poppy Pomfrey standing at the entrance of her office. "You will take your students and leave my infirmary at once!" My face remains an emotionless mask, but inside I’m smiling. Snivellus always had a blind spot for anything Potter and I’d set him up beautifully. Having already primed the Nurse to where she was suspicious of the man, I just gave her more proof. Since he’s been trying to get me kicked out of this school for years now, I think I should start returning the favor.
"You heard her, Death Eater Scum! Get the hell out of here!" I shout as he turns to leave, trying to put some fear into the anger in my voice. I don’t have to go far to get it either. By dinnertime, it’ll be all over the castle. Even if I end up with the detentions, it’ll be worth it. I don’t even need the Marauder’s Map to know he’s headed for Dumbledore’s office. I’m sure the old man will be about shortly to tell the story of the great personal risk involved in Snape turning spy.
Perhaps I pushed it a bit too far. The Nurse rounds on me as she kicks all the Gryffs out of the infirmary. "If you can’t behave, you’ll not be having any visitors! Out with the lot of you!"
Once the room is clear, she storms back into her office for a few minutes, but then finally returns. "Mr. Potter, you cannot address a member of the staff in such a manner!"
Now let’s see if I can deliver another damaging blow. "He hates me, Madame. I don’t trust him and there’s little you can do to convince me otherwise. Right now I’ll bet you he’s headed to the Headmaster’s office and I’m guessing within the hour Professor Dumbledore will be down here. But let me ask you this, if you look over your records how many more students from the other houses end up here because of a Potion’s accident. I bet if you look back, you’ll see a statistical anomaly." Lily always loved the phrase ‘statistical anomaly’. It’s the kind of phrase a person uses when they want to be intellectually superior to someone without sounding that way.
She forcefully tells me to get some rest and heads back into her office. I honestly don’t know what she’ll find if she looks, but the seed has been planted. I’m not sure who to work on next. McGonagall seems a given, but Sprout spends a good chunk of her summer growing his ingredients and there’s no love lost between Snape and Flitwick. Sarah Underhill was a Ravenclaw. I’ll have to figure out how to work that in at some point. I can blame it on Remus and a loose angry tongue. If I have to be stuck in this school for the next few years, I’m going to do my best to run Snivellus out of here, as fast and painfully as possible.
It takes only thirty minutes for the doors to open and the figure of Albus Dumbledore to slip into the room. Nurse Pomfrey must think I have the gift of sight right about now.
"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?" He’s starting off with the Grandfatherly approach.
"It still hurts, but the Potions are helping."
"I understand there was a rather heated discussion here earlier."
"You mean when Professor Snape brought all the Slytherins in my year by to call me a murderer? From what I understand they were in Transfiguration with the Gryffindors. It seems to be a rather odd occurrence, sir. The Dungeons are nowhere near here."
"Indeed they are not, Harry. I have already addressed this matter with Severus. He had his reasons for coming, but I do believe he also had deeper motivations and I do not condone such actions; however, I must ask that you refrain from addressing him as a Death Eater. With yesterday’s events, such an accusation could be inflammatory."
"You mean like when people were getting petrified and everyone accused me of being the Heir of Slytherin because I am a Parselmouth? No, actually, I didn’t have a choice in being a Parselmouth. He did have a choice when he took the Dark Mark."
"Yes, Professor Snape made a series of poor choices in his youth, for which he pays the price to this very day. However, Harry, he is your teacher. You are a student here. A certain behavior is expected."
"I’m sorry sir; I’ve seen the accounts and read your own words. ‘At great personal risk Severus Snape turned and became a spy for the light side.’ You would have me ignore what he did before he became your spy, but you ignore what he has done since the war ended. How many times has he been in your office complaining about me?"
"He did save your life. Surely, that must count for something. He has proven that he values your safety." He chooses not to answer the question. Of course, he knows I have spent the summer with the Hat.
I snap back, "Because he owed my family a debt. Can you say that he would have done so otherwise? Did he come to you immediately telling you Quirrell was trying to kill me? That’s why he keeps trying to get me out of here, so he can weasel out of repayment. If I’m not here, he wouldn’t be forced to defend me and Quirrell could have killed me elsewhere. I’d rather not count on the whims of magic forcing him to help me. I watched him gloating about wanting to see Sirius kissed by the Dementors. Re- uh Lupin was driven out of here simply out of spite." Mentally, I kick myself for almost calling him Remus.
"No man is a saint, Harry. We all struggle with our demons, some are better at hiding that struggle. You see only his dark motivations, but I also see a man that charged out into danger when he realized that Professor Lupin had not taken his medication, because he knew students were in danger. When Tom inhabited poor Professor Quirrell’s body, Severus covertly investigated the danger. He knows full well that Tom is trying to regain corporeal form. He could have just as easily assisted his former master in recovering the stone. The information he provided when he turned during the war saved several lives. Time and again, he has proven his worth to me. When taking the true measure of a man, you must look at both the good and the bad and decide which is more important."
Clearly, I’m not getting anywhere with Dumbledore. His delusional faith runs too deep. I could undercut his arguments by pointing out that, most likely, Snape only turned because the debt forced him to try and save James Potter’s life, but that would lead to me revealing the Prophecy. Even then, he failed. I’ll switch tactics. "Sir, I’d like to arrange for alternative instruction in Potions. He loathes me and I feel the same way about him. Even you have to admit that having the two of us in the same room takes away from his ability to teach and the students’ ability to learn. Since he can’t go, it has to be me. I’d like to hire a private tutor."
"There are precedents for such a practice, but that could be very expensive. Typically, this is done when the student demonstrates a gifted nature beyond the course work and is done with the Board of Governors approving the Headmaster’s recommendation. Part of growing up, Harry, is learning to deal with people that you’d rather not. Perhaps a ‘trial’ period is in order, if by the Winter Holidays conditions have not improved; I would be more likely to support bringing in an outside tutor."
He’s going for the glass half-full argument. I’ll counter with the glass half-empty. "What if I am allowed outside tutoring now? Before the Winter Holidays, my skill can be evaluated and that can dictate whether it be allowed to continue? My trust vault is adequate and since this is pertaining to my education, I could petition the Goblins for limited access to my family vaults." He doesn’t flinch at my mention of the Potter Vaults. I had wondered if he had been hiding them from me, but his non-reaction only serves to reinforce that he is indeed hopelessly out of touch. The roughly one hundred and forty year gulf separating us is a virtual chasm.
"It is not the optimal solution, but nevertheless, it is plausible. I would like you to take your time and make a calm decision on this. Haste and anger often lead us down a less than desirable path. I will return tomorrow and we can discuss this option further. I can see from the dour looks Madame Pomfrey is giving me that I have overstayed my welcome. Pleasant dreams lad. Hopefully, the new day will bring better choices than the previous one."
------
By Sunday, I’m finally cleared to go back to the common room. I haven’t seen the last of Poppy Pomfrey, not by a long shot. A solution was reached, and I’m actually rather pleased about it. Professor Dumbledore tried several approaches. One had me taking Potions with the Claws and the Puffs. It looked marginally promising until we realized that the majority of my classes would also have to be switched. I might as well move into one of their dorms. He obstinately refused to allow an outside instructor in. My first recommendation had been to contact Snape’s predecessor — I figured Horace Slughorn would jump, or is it waddle, for joy at the opportunity to try and sink his claws for the second time into me. Reluctantly, I also offered Remus Lupin’s name.
Of course, that didn’t fly for the same reason he was run out of here. Funny how you can survive a vicious assault and be afflicted with a ‘condition’ and can’t teach here, but you can be an actual killer that suddenly acquires a moral compass and all is forgiven.
I was this close to telling the old man that I would seek an immediate transfer to New Salem, when the solution came in the form of our resident Mediwitch.
"Bloody Hell, Harry, I can’t believe you got out of classes with Snape! You’re a bloody genius!"
Hermione snorts at Ron’s proclamation with three sets of knitting needles working in the air around her, but he’s not too far off. "Ron, the git has it out for me and it’s affecting how he treats everyone in the class. That’s not helping anyone learn. One of us has to go, I’m just lucky that Madame Pomfrey convinced Dumbledore that with all the visitors to the castle this year, she’s going to need additional help in the Ward. I already know most of the basic first aid spells and we’re going to focus on the medicinal draughts at first to help stockpile. I’ve replaced six hours of class time with twelve hours of working and learning in the Ward. It’s not exactly going to be a picnic and it’s going to cost me extra time as well. Not to mention that there will be a steady stream of Slytherins showing up whenever she’s trying to teach me something."
James wasn’t a slouch at Potions, but he wasn’t great either. Like most everything I remember, I’ll need lots of practice to get back into the swing of things. That reminds me, I’ll need to find an unused classroom now that I can really cast spells again — time to really see how powerful I am.
Hermione nods approvingly, though I suspect there’s a spark of jealousy hidden behind her eyes. "I have to agree with Harry here. Potions isn’t the place for people who loathe each other. It can be rather dangerous in there."
"Thanks Hermione. What is with all the knitting anyway?"
I shouldn’t have asked as I am ‘treated’ to the idea of S.P.E.W. Currently, still having an elf in my employ, I listen to her positions and she makes several valid points. I consider mentioning this to her, but when she gets to the part about leaving all the Hats and such lying around, I have to stop her.
"Hermione, do you really think that will work?" The look on her face seems to indicate that she does. "You don’t get it do you? Only the owner can free an elf. You don’t own the elves of Hogwarts. They do your laundry, so they handle your clothes all the time. An owner can give the elf clothes as a chore to clean them. It’s only when they give them clothes, in anger outside of a ‘chore’ that it frees them. Technically, Professor Dumbledore ‘owns’ all the elves and I can’t really see him mistreating them or allowing them to be mistreated. Why don’t you go to Professor McGonagall and ask to speak to the Headmaster himself about it? I think your heart is in the right place."
Ever since she assembled an airtight case to defend Buckbeak last year only to have it completely ignored by the Ministry, all too willing to placate Lucius, she’s had a mad on for creature rights. Though in retrospect, Hagrid might not have been the best choice to deliver a legal position. Still, it’s commendable what she’s doing.
"And you suddenly have all the answers!" Uh-oh, someone doesn’t like having their parade rained on.
"No I don’t. But you’ve have you spoken to any elves about this yet? Have you spoken to anyone who owns an elf? I’m sure you’ve read up on whatever you can find in the library, but those are words written by people. It’s like what Binns teaches us about the Goblin Wars. We always hear the Human side of it, but never the other side. I’ve been wondering what the Goblins tell their children. Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight or even tell you that you shouldn’t do this. All I’m saying is if you want to do this thing, you shouldn’t rush into it. Approach this like a debate and even play devil’s advocate and look for the argument of why House Elves should be enslaved. That way when you run into someone who doesn’t agree with you, you’ve already prepared for what they’ll say."
She looks like I just hit her with a powerful Confundus charm. Maybe it was her rash emotional side that Hat saw that made it put her in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw. I had been worried that just learning Occlumency wouldn’t be enough to keep her occupied, but now I’ll be doing extra work in the Infirmary and she’ll be doing this whole House Elf thing. That should really keep her busy. She leaves, still in a bit of a huff, but when she calms down it should make sense to her.
Of course, this leaves Ron out in the cold. He needs a project of his own. Maybe a girlfriend? No, maybe not right now. Despite there not being any House-to-House Quidditch competition, there’s supposed to be an All-Star team. My record as Seeker almost assures me of a starting spot, but we’ll see. Will Lucius break down and buy his little boy a Firebolt? Our chasers could use someone to keep their skills sharp. Ron wants to be a Keeper, so why not?
"Oi, Ron, why don’t you ask Angelina about practicing for Keeper for next season? I’m guessing all three girls are going to try for the all-House squad, and they’ll need someone to practice against. She’ll remember it for next season … I’ll even talk to her if you want."
The offer is much too good to refuse. I should have made him work for it a little. A few minutes later, Ron’s over discussing practice times with the girls. The only downside is I’m all alone now and that means . . .
"Hi Harry."
"Hello, Katie. Aren’t you going to try for the all-House team?"
"Sure, I just gave my schedule to Angie and she’ll work out the details."
We discuss how I’m feeling. She avoids hot button topics like Snape and Death Eaters. My guess is she already knows when the first Hogsmeade weekend is. If Katie’s the ‘early bird’, I guess that makes me the worm?
------
I return to my room after accepting Katie’s invitation to go to Hogsmeade and catch Neville polishing his wand. No, not that; he’s actually polishing his wand.
"Neville, how’s it going?" I pull out a cloth and give mine the once over.
"Gran insists I polish my wand every day. It’s kind of a habit - cherry with Hippogriff feather. What’s yours?"
I answer and realize that it’s Frank’s wand and what little I know about wands is that was a particular combination. "That’s a pretty wild combination. How long did it take for Ollivander to find that one?"
"It’s actually my father’s wand." He says quietly.
"Really, I always read that passed down wands don’t always works so well. Look at Ron. Through second year, he was using his brother Charlie’s old wand. As soon as he got fitted for one, he got along much better. Maybe that’s been a part of your problem with your casting?"
He looks dejected. "Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I asked her about it and she told me that if this one was good enough for my father, it should be good enough for me."
I apply my Marauder skills to the problem. "She won’t let you get a wand of your own, huh? Mine was pretty expensive, but even still, it was only seven galleons. How much money do you have?"
"None. She has a tab for me at the shops in Hogsmeade. She basically sees everything I buy." Wow! No control issues there on Augusta’s part. If Frank ever does come out of his coma-like state, he is seriously going to go after his Mum. I’ll make sure of it — even help if he’ll let me!
"If your wand gets damaged, say by a clumsy Harry Potter, he would be honor bound to replace it."
Neville looks like I just punched him. I guess that wasn’t the right answer. "You’re not touching Dad’s wand! I won’t let you!"
"Whoa, easy there Neville, it was just a thought. I didn’t know it meant that much to you. How about this, first Hogsmeade weekend, we head to Diagon Alley and I buy you a wand."
"I’m not some charity case! Besides, we’re not allowed to leave Hogsmeade. I heard they put Age Lines around the Floo’s."
"I’ll make the arrangements. We’ll use my cloak. I can see most of the shops following that rule, but there’s bound to be an exception. I know your not a charity case, you’re my friend and your grandmother isn’t helping you by making you use a wand that’s probably not suited for you."
"Still, we’d be breaking the rules . . ." Alice would probably be looking for someone to pummel, seeing how little spirit he has.
"Think it over, mate. If you don’t want to do it now, we can wait until the Holidays and you can consider it a present from me. Look, I am sure your Dad would be honored that you’re using his wand, I know mine would, but I also know that he’d want me to be the best Wizard I was capable of being."
"I guess you’re right. Let me think about it."
"Take your time. Just let me know what you decide." If we do it early enough in the morning, I can still do the ‘token’ date with Katie. I hope she isn’t deluding herself with visions of going to Madame Puddifoot’s.
Neville leaves allowing me to relax on my fourth year bed and collect my thoughts. A ball of fire appears over my head startling the hell out of me. It’s Fawkes with the Sorting Hat. Damn thing nearly made me wet my pants! It drops my laughing friend down on top of me. Did the blasted bird just chuckle?
"Sorry about that, HJ. I just asked the bird to bring me by for a visit."
"I’m sure you had nothing to do with that."
"Of course not. Now put me on your head. We’ve only got a few minutes before the damn bird is coming back for me."
‘What’s wrong, Dumbledore not letting you out?’
‘He was suddenly very interested in what you were doing this summer, as you can well imagine. I’d rather he not know we had this conversation. You might want to send Wood an owl at some point. Dumbledore plans to visit him to discuss you.’
‘How much does he suspect?’
‘Nothing right now, he’s just casting in the dark and Wood is in Norway for two weeks, but I’d get that Owl moving if I were you. You’ve got a little time as Dumbledore is working with the Minister to prevent the Tournament from being moved to one of the other schools. Needless to say the other Ministers weren’t too happy to hear about Death Eaters resurfacing."
The Hat lets me digest this for a second before continuing, ‘He assumed you spent the remainder of the summer with the Weasleys and was very surprised when you did not. Right now he knows that you were at the Cup with Wood, but not that you pretty much spent the summer with him.’
‘Thanks. I was hoping to not raise any alarms, but I didn’t count on people trying to kill me so early in the year. I’ll get a letter to Ollie out this evening. So what happened with your song? I heard it was just long and boring. I was expecting clever innuendo about things you could do with a flobberworm?’
The Hat tries to sound mortified. ‘The cretins do not understand my humor. Do you have a quill handy? Get it out and write the first letter of each line.’
I nod and get it out of my trunk. It sings the song in my mind, and I jot each letter down. When it finishes, I stare down at the parchment. The ‘harmless’ and meandering song has a hidden message.
‘I Want All of You to Bend Over and Take it Up the Arse.’
I chortle in approval as its laughter fills my mind, ‘All my songs are transcribed into an appendix in ‘Hogwarts: A History’. This isn’t the first time I’ve done it either. One of these days someone will figure it out.’
‘That’s just enough incentive for me to actually read that book! So, how was Snape when he came into Dumbledore’s office?’
‘He was almost on the verge of having some color on his pasty white face. Is it just me, or does his complexion remind you of a piece of dog shit left out in the sun for a week? I see you’ve altered your plan.’
‘Oh, I’m still taking him down. I’m just not going to risk my life to do it. All those kids know exactly where their parents were that night. They’re probably already thinking of ways to get me. You got any tips on spying on them.’
‘Nice touch getting the Nurse on your side — well played, HJ. I’ll see what I can come up with. For starters, you could be sassy with that Myrtle girl in the bathrooms. Maybe you could date her instead of the Bell girl? That would really keep the rest of them away! You’d probably have to clear it with the Slytherin Ghost, but you might have a chance there?’
‘Why on Earth would I have any pull with the Bloody Baron?’
‘You mean Lord Baron William Potter. Oh, I don’t know — moron! Why don’t you take a fucking guess?’
Author Notes:
So here we are, the school year has started. Look for a part-Veela to show up next chapter. I was surprised that there were no inter-school activities during book 4. With Quidditch being such a crazed sport, why wouldn't there be a school vs school tournament? Why wouldn't there be 'knowledge bowl' style contests pitting the best in charms, potions, transfiguration and what not?