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Chapter 9 — Bartering the Truth

"I see you did not need my warning." The ghostly voice of William Potter interrupts my troubled thoughts.   Even amongst a castle full of spirits, the "Bloody Baron" has a certain aura about him that puts one on edge.   My thoughts wander as I consider what presence the man had when he lived.

I wave my hand dismissively and make certain that the hospital ward is in order. "Malfoy and his lackeys aren’t my problem. They’re more like a rash that just won’t go away. I thank you for your concern though Lord-Baron."

The ancient ghost moves up next to me and removes his helmet. There is a passing resemblance between the two of us if you added twenty-five years to my face and the haunted eyes of a cursed man who has walked this earth for nearly a millennium. "Indeed, descendant. The Triwizard Tournament is fraught with peril. I witnessed Maurice Potter’s death. The Beauxbaton champion had already perished and all that was left was he and the Russian witch from Durmstrang. She used a simple Confundus charm on the Sphinx demanding an answer when he answered the riddle correctly. The Sphinx flew into a rage and killed both of them. I assume you did not, in fact, enter this contest."

I gaze out the window waiting for Dobby to arrive with my breakfast. "You’re correct. It wasn’t me and I’m trying to figure out who is out to get me. It doesn’t help that I’m second guessing myself."

"What vexes thee?"

"How much can I tell you in confidence?"

He shakes his head. "I am bound to answer all inquiries from the Headmaster of Hogwarts, honestly and truthfully, but he is the only one I must answer to."

I was afraid of that. "In that case, I can’t say much, at least not now. Someone has asked me for something, but I have no knowledge of telling the person about it."

"Perhaps the memory was removed from you or changed?"

"There is that possibility, but I can’t fully say."

"Could the person have learned of this something from someone else?"

Lupin could have told Moody. "Perhaps, though he denied it."

William Potter scratches his spectral chin. "You continue to be vague. So, can you check this person’s facts independently?"

"Perhaps"

"Do you need me to recruit some of the other spirits? Your reputation with the living seems to have suffered as of late, but rest assured the dead hold you in high regard, the young maiden Myrtle most of all."

Maybe the Hat is right? If I dated Myrtle, that’d be creepy enough to drive off all these bints.

"I’ll take whatever help you can offer and be grateful for it, sir. Karkaroff was once a Death Eater, but he seems to spend most of the time on his ship. Can you get out onto their ship?"

"You are refreshingly mature for your age, Harry. There is a spirit that protects the vessel. It is a most violent and territorial Poltergeist. It would be most difficult, perhaps even a challenge." He finishes with an evil smile. Again, I am reminded that there are things in this castle that fear the Bloody Baron with good reason.

"Not exactly Peeves, eh?"

"It is most definitely not. I have heard that when the ship is moored at Durmstrang, students are often punished by being made to stay overnight and suffer the whims of the Geist."

"That would certainly cut down on the discipline problems. It was just a thought. Don’t risk yourself on my account. How about keeping an eye on Professor Moody for me?"

"Aye, it will be done. I will ask the Friar and Nicolas to shadow Karkaroff when he outside of the Geist’s protection."

As my ancestor leaves, I head over to the Floo. Technically, I shouldn’t be using this without Poppy’s approval. As Floos go, it’s restricted. It can call anywhere, but only transport to St. Mungo’s. I throw some powder and call out Remus Lupin’s address and look into his parlor. He walks in wearing robes and carrying a cup of most likely coffee.

Lupin brings mixed emotions to my mind. He was just as responsible as Lily for what happened, during their one time affair shortly before the Potters went into hiding. On the other hand, he helped me last year. "Harry! I surprised to hear from you. How have you been?"

"You haven’t been keeping up with the news have you?"

"I stopped reading the Prophet years ago and I prefer Muggle music to the wireless. Is there something I should know?"

"Me first. Did you tell Alastor Moody about the map?"

Lupin shakes his head. "No, I only forwarded him on my lesson plans and notes. Even among wizards Mr. Moody is a bit odd, as you’ve no doubt discovered."

Rediscovered is more appropriate. "Yes. He’s definitely a strange one. Someone entered me in the Triwizard Tournament."

We go through a few minutes of him asking me useless questions and me humoring him by responding. He calls for something and a small beagle comes in the room. "I call this little fellow ‘grim.’ Grim is a little underweight, but generally he’s in good health whenever I see him. He does have a troubling tendency to wander off, though."

It’s how he’s telling me about Sirius in the event that his Floo is being monitored. Not a bad idea. I try my best to separate the fact that I’m not James. He didn’t sleep with my wife!

I have to cut the connection when I hear Poppy coming back from the morning staff meeting. With no one in the ward, we talk potions for a time, but I can tell that she’s bothered. I have a pretty good idea of what’s on her mind.

"You’re worried about me."

"Of course I am! I thought keeping you close to me this year would stop this foolishness, but now I suspect I’ll have more grey in my hair by the end of the year."

"You and me both."

My joke takes the edge off the tension in the room. "I’ll spare you any speeches. I’ll merely state that I will be most flexible with your work in the Infirmary if you are preparing for a task. Since you will be in my Infirmary, I want you to be here working and not as my patient. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly clear, Madam. The Headmaster recommended that I take you on as my advisor, but I’m sure you’re already getting sick of me."

"Nonsense, though I’m perplexed that you chose that awful Hat. I would have recommended someone better suited to teaching you."

I’d refrained from bringing the Hat to Poppy’s den since they had a rather terse exchange. "The Hat has nothing but time on it’s… hmm, I guess ‘hands’ is the word. Hat has a unique perspective to help me plan for the tasks."

Her brow knits at the phrase "unique" and we turn back to the Potions lesson. Moody’s request that I turn over the map continues to weigh on my mind.

------

Because I’m such a sweet talker, I’m able to get out of the Infirmary fifteen minutes early. I make my way to the dorms to retrieve the map.

The twins haven’t tried to test my age line yet, but it’s only a matter of time. They don’t know what their up against and if they did, they’d probably take it as some kind of stupid challenge. James Potter’s strength wasn’t in Potions, but I’ve got two of my six cauldrons that Poppy’s allowed me to set up simmering with something special in case they wander into my sites. There’s an elixir that will grow putrid smelling facial "fungus" that Peter of all people stumbled on during an early experiment, and a nifty bowel loosener that lasts for a full day.

If it escalates, beyond that I’ve got to start brushing up on my Charms and Transfiguration. They rely on people ingesting their products. Some items can be charmed or permanently enchanted to do similar things. James replaced Lupin’s belt once with one enchanted to have a babbling jinx on it. Because it looked like someone hit him with the spell, he kept removing it. Fifteen minutes later, he’d start babbling again just like clockwork.

The prank went over so well that they did it to Snape. There was a notable exception that instead of a belt, James started with a snake and Transfigured it into a belt. When the Halfblood Prince disenchanted it, he had a nice three foot long constrictor wrapped around his waist.

Yeah, Jimmy boy had a bit of a nasty streak, but a pair of babbling belts for the twins might be in order. Maybe I could rework the enchantment to link the belts together moving the jinx from one belt to the next so that when it’s cancelled on one, it immediately moves to the other.

Either that, or it’s going to be the return of the "Shit Spiders." Take a piece of manure, transfigure it into a spider, drop a compulsion on it and send it up the walls to their dorm and have it crawl onto their pillow and wait until the effect wears off and it reverts to normal. I go with the dry stuff for the everyday chuckle. The wet stuff gets used when you want to make a point.

"How is the irritating bitch?"

"Madame Pomfrey misses you as well Hat. Everything nice and quiet?" I cross my age line focusing on my Occlumency. The Hat sits on a little shelf I created up in the canopy it can remain unseen.

"Yes. Though one of the Weasely twins paced the edge of your age line and ran some basic diagnostics against it."

"That figures. I guess I’ll have to send a warning shot across their bow. Shit spiders for two are on the menu tonight. I’ll have to swing by Hagrid’s and see what kind of base material he has on hand, but now I’ve got more pressing issues."

"Such as?"

"Moody knows about my map and wants to use it."

"Considering, you were trying to convince me to watch it, I don’t see a problem."

Withdrawing my key from my pocket, I open my trunk and remove the Marauder’s Map. Moody is in his classroom, along with the seventh years, and Barty Crouch. It’s a bit odd that Crouch looks like he’s doing the teaching with Moody sitting off to the side. They’ve been spending a good deal of time together from what I could recollect.

"My problem is that he claims James told him about it and I don’t have any memory of it. Think there’re any more memories up in the old noggin that we missed?"

"Perhaps, but I think we got everything."

"Do you want to come?"

"No, I like being here and watching your wares like some kind of guard-newt. Of course I want to go along, you dripping mass of anal seepage!"

That’s one I hadn’t heard before. I should be honored; the Hat is trying to impress me. I scoop it along with the map, while heading out the dorm and place it over my brow. "So, great and powerful advisor, do you have a foolproof strategy for my broom race this weekend?"

"Fly faster than the other five twats."

"You are a master of the obvious."

"That makes one of us HJ. The obvious has a way of eluding you all the time."

"Touché," I add wondering if Delacour might sleep close enough for one of my fecal arachnids to reach her. "I meant any real advice."

"Oh, real advice. The course will be tight and you won’t be able to simply rely on speed. Everyone will use their size to their advantage. For Diggory and Krum, they’re bigger than you and will try to bump you to force you to miss one of the floating course markers. The females will use their lighter weight to try and out accelerate you, reaching top speed faster. Use bullying tactics against the females and try to out maneuver the males."

"Makes me wonder why the sponsor is a French Broom company? Seems kind of foolish with Krum in the competition."

"Unless of course Beaucourt and Delacour race on the European broom circuit you nitwit. Both are ranked in the top fifty, Delacour in the top fifteen. Perhaps you should actually try and learn about your opponents."

"How did you pick that up?"   Broom racing isn’t that popular in England.   A few racing teams exist, but England only hosts a handful of races each season.

"I saw the names in a magazine article at Wood’s apartment."

"And when were you planning on telling me this?"

"Right before the race started and getting the elf to take my bet on the Delacour witch."

I send the mental image off a shrunken Hat with Dobby using it as a condom. Then I make a note to stop by the library and look through the periodicals section to learn about the French witches as we head past the students just now leaving class.

------
 
The Defense Against the Dark Arts room is empty except for Moody and Crouch standing by the desk in conversation as I walk in.

"Good to see you Potter." Moody says with his back to me using his creepy eye. Looking over at Crouch he says, "Could you give us a minute? Potter and I have a small matter to discuss."

Crouch nods slowly and heads into Moody’s office adjacent to the room as the old Auror turns to face you. "Did you bring it lad?"

"Yes. Could I ask you how well you knew my father?"

Moody cackles, "Let’s just say, I gave him a few tips in the old days and leave it at that. Maybe, I can assign you a detention or two and I can show you a few of the more useful ones."

I pull the map from the inside pocket of my robes. "Did my father tell you how to activate it?"

"Does, ‘I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good’ ring any bells?"

"It does." I hand it to him.

"Thanks. I can keep an eye on everyone’s movements now. It’ll make my job that much easier. Run along now and get some lunch, lad. I’ve got business with the man in my office."

This seems wrong on several levels. I can’t recall James ever telling him about it. Lupin didn’t and Sirius couldn’t have.

I don’t know if it’s me or the Hat on my head that thinks it first — Peter?

Moody stops. "Is there a problem, Potter?"

"Well, it’s just that I heard my Dad was real keen on becoming an Auror. I just wanted to know if he talked about it with you?"

"That he did, lad and he would’ve made a damn fine one too."

"He’s lying, Hat. James didn’t want anything to do with the Ministry. He and Moody used to have a good laugh about all the paperwork and regulations surrounding it."

"The question is why is he lying?"

"Let’s test him."

"Mr. Lupin told me about a group last year called the Order of the Phoenix that helped the Headmaster oppose Voldemort. He said you were in it along with my parents."

Moody flinched! Alastor Moody would never utter Riddle’s false name, but he never flinched at it!

"You heard right, but that’s not a conversation for here. Some other time, Potter, now off with you."

"He’s trying to get rid of me Hat."

"I know, but he said that there was a funny story I should remind you about if I got the chance. Something about you and a man named Benjy Fenwick fighting over dating Amelia Bones. He said it was hilarious and I should get you to tell it."

Moody looks angry for a second, but the laughs, "I’d forgotten about that! Yeah, those were the good times. Some other time, Potter."

I’m already drawing my wand. "Except I just made that up. The real Alastor Moody introduced the two of them and was supposed to be Benjy’s best man. Who are you? Accio map!"

As I summon the map, Moody dives behind the desk. I’m already diving to my left when my hand closes over the parchment.

His return fire goes over my head, a yellow burst of energy that I don’t recognize. He rolls out from behind the furnishing. Another salvo from his wand seals the door causing the wall above the door to melt down and cover the way. James Potter had seen that spell before. Death Eaters used it all the time to prevent their prey from escaping.   That’s a pretty good indicator of who I’m facing.

"Let’s see what the boy hero can really do." He hisses.

I point at the candle holder near him and Transfigure it into a claw that leaps at him. His blast disintegrates it and he Banishes several desks and chairs at me. I counter with a wide area spell, part Banisher, part Shield, and definitely not on the Hogwarts curriculum. "Fluctuosusa Armaorum!"

Some call it the Wave of Power. My dueling manuals call it the Wave Block. Either way, it’s a three -foot wide expanding swath of power Banishing everything in its path. The desks reverse their course and take chairs and other tables with it, tossing the false Moody into the wall and smashing a chair into him. The energy flattens against the wall and runs through the room dissipating. Wasteful as hell, but in a cluttered environment like a classroom full of debris, it’s dead useful.

His painful shriek tells me that I did some damage. Crouch comes sprinting out the door at me looking wild eyed and possessed. I Stun him; rather, I try to Stun him. His clothes have a reflective ward on them and I barely leap out of the way of my own spell coming back at me. I side step his leap and send a second Stunner at his unclothed head that drops him. I Conjure ropes to be sure he’s bound, but am forced to dive out of the way of a series of chairs and a desk being hurled at me.

A high-pitched scream, "You shall not harm Master Barty!" There’s a female little house elf between me and the fake Moody." Holy shit! Now I know how Lucius must have felt. The dratted thing is insane! I Transfigure a claw out of some debris to capture her, but it pops away from it. Where’d it go?

"The Dragon! Potter! Look out!"

The skeleton hanging above the classroom, technically a wyvern, comes to life as its tail slings around just missing me and smashing into the bookcase. The elf is perched on the head waving her tiny hands and controlling the spiked tail. I roll out of the way as that jagged bone shatters a pair of desks like an axe swing from Hagrid.   My Severing charm cuts through the bone. Hurry!   Fake Moody’s getting back up!

"Stop him, Winky!"   The imposter lashes out as I send a Bonebreaker in his direction.  

The elf looks makes the wyvern’s mouth snap at me, but her energy is fading fast and the skeleton’s mouth doesn’t move that quickly. Those little buggers have limits and she’s way past hers. The Death Eater sends a blast of hail my way forcing me to Conjure a solid shield.

The elf with what little magic is left in her, pops in the air right in front of me and grabs onto my face.   My glasses and the Hat go flying. The tiny fist pulling my hair I can ignore, but her finger gouging my right eye, I can’t.

"Motherfucker!" I scream ripping the elf away with my free hand and smash her against the wall.   Her master’s piercing curse rips through my hand and the elf in it. The elf falls to the ground, because I can’t hold her anymore. Getting my solid shield back in front of me, I cradle my ruined hand against my stomach.   Blood seeps out of a galleon sized hole and my fingers dangle uselessly with the bones connecting them to my wrist destroyed.

My opponent tries some Transfiguration of his own as a chair next to me changes shape into a dog. A Slicer bisects it, but costs me my shield as the Death Eater demolishes it.

Without my glasses and with one eye injured, I can’t tell how badly the imposter is hurt, but he can’t be much better off than I am. He starts Conjuring smoke, further obscuring my view. If that’s really Moody’s eye, it won’t affect him at all!

But James dueled against the "real" Moody enough to know that the eye has a weakness or two. The current owner might not be aware of them.   I Conjure some serious fireworks in this confined space. The flash of colors should momentarily overwhelm the artifact. The real Moody practiced against this tactic all the time. I can’t hear over the thunderous detonations. Now both of us are half blind and mostly deaf. I’ve got maybe thirty seconds before he can effectively use the eye again.

Staying low, my wand works quickly and the desk next to me ripples under my influence.   Frantic darts of energy lash out from my enemy. This Transfiguration was good enough to impress JP’s NEWT examiner. It should be more than adequate now. The legs of the desk morph and blur into bestial legs.   The top bunches together and spawns fur and a head.   Even in my semi-deafened state, I hear a roar.   After all what Gryffindor worth his salt wouldn’t strive to create his very own lion?

"Go get him!"     I move counterclockwise knowing my opponent didn’t look that mobile.

My lion must take a hit or two, but pounces and starts mauling him. I charge through the smoke and command the lion to stop and pin him. The Death Eater is in really bad shape with a bite wound on his shoulder and blood soaking through his robes. He tries to raise his wand, but my spell violently disarms him.  The spell snaps his arm, causing a satisfying howl of pain.

"Who are you?"   The lion moves off of him and with a wave of my wand and it returns to its base form.

His head lolls to one side and he coughs. "Your time is coming, Potter. The Master will have his revenge!"

It wasn’t helping me determine who he is.   I could try the map, but first I’d need to locate the dratted thing.   "Dumbledore will figure out who you are…"

In response, he cackles, "Oh yes, summon the senile bastard.   I want him to know how I fooled him for months!"

"Where is Voldemort?" I jam my wand into his neck.

He spits at me and grimaces. "Closer than you … think. You can’t escape him and you’ll get nothing from me!"

"I know someone you can’t fool. Accio Sorting Hat!"

The man looks scared for a moment, but then laughs and says a nonsensical word. There’s a sharp crack. Bloody foam starts coming out of his mouth. Some kind of charmed false tooth releasing a poison! I shove the Hat on his head.

"Hat, he’s poisoned himself. Pull what you can out of him! Rape his mind if you have to!"

Seconds later the brim opens up.   "Ah, Barty Crouch, Junior, we meet again.   So Black wasn’t the first to escape Azkaban, was he?"

The name fills me with blinding rage.   One of Frank and Alice’s torturers right here in front of me for all this time.   I cast a Vomiting curse on him and kick him. It might keep him alive for a minute or two longer and I fish a Bezoar out of my pocket. He tries to keep his mouth shut, so I send another kick into his gut. That get’s it open.

"He’s fighting me with Occlumency!" The Hat growls as I immobilize him.

"You’re not getting away that easily, Barty!   Don’t die on us yet, you fucking maggot! Frank and Alice deserve some payback!   I want to know who you are working with! I want the names, Barty! Give me the names! Is it Lucius? Is it the Yaxley’s? Where is Voldemort? Tell me." I pepper him with questions hoping the answers seep through the dying man’s mental defenses. Moody’s eye continues to whirl wildly in the socket for a minute more and then stops.

About thirty seconds goes by.   "Don’t just stand there.   Get me off of this corpse’s head and wipe the blood off of me before it stains!"

A conjured bandage covers my shattered and bloody hand.   Bone regrowth and flesh stretching - damn if that isn’t going to hurt!   Still, I’ve survived worse, in this and other lifetimes.  

My voice is raspy from the smoke.   My wand work is clearing it, but not nearly fast enough.   "How much did you get?"

"Some.   Not enough.   That’s the real Alastor Moody over there on the ground, under an Imperius and the Mindslave potion.   Crouch Senior is under the influence as well."

The room is thoroughly trashed and I can see house elves popping in already.   I order one to immediately go to Poppy and alert her that both Moody and I are injured.   I send the next elf to Dumbledore to let him know that there’s a dead Death Eater in the classroom.

The elves don’t hesitate like they normally do when a student tries to order them about.   They know that an angry Harry James Potter is not something to be ignored.   One of them hands me my glasses as the Hat disclosed the one thing that could possibly infuriate me more.  

"I saw Pettigrew as well."

------

My teeth gnash down against the thick Muggle mouthpiece as another spasm of pain passes through me.   Flesh stretching is only slightly less painful than bone regrowth.   Poppy’s already vanished the bones in my left hand and is now meticulously forcing my flesh and muscle to grow back together.

Only my head and right arm are able to move as she has me in a partial Paralysis spell.

"Are you certain you don’t want to be Stunned for this, Harry?"   She doesn’t use the customary "Mr. Potter."   She’s getting all soft on me.

I fumble and remove the mouthpiece.   "No, I need to listen in."

By listening in, I meant to the group of people assembled here in the infirmary.   I gave Dumbledore the brief short story in the wrecked classroom while the real Moody was taken by Phoenix to the Infirmary.   Instead of cancelling the curse on the doorway, Dumbledore opts to leave it intact until the elves finish repairing the classroom.

Once up in the Infirmary, Poppy reads me the riot act about my injuries and then starts working on me.   In fairness, only a few hours had passed since she told me that she didn’t want me as a patient, but she stopped when Fawkes brought in Crouch Junior’s body.   If ever there was a time to say, "but you should see the other guy" that was it, but I was already in enough pain.

Within thirty minutes, we were joined by Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt "escorting" a disheveled looking Barty Crouch, Senior.   Fudge and a bodyguard showed up mere moments after that.   The four heads of house also joined in for a jolly good time.   Just a few more and we could Conjure a Quaffle for a quick game of indoor Quidditch; provided, of course, whichever team picked me didn’t expect me to score that much.

Crouch Senior has a meandering tale to tell, sobbing over his son’s body often calling the corpse "Master" and "Son" in the same sentence.   His wife apparently took Junior’s place in Azkaban and was buried on that filthy rock.   Sometime right before the end of the last school year, there was a reshuffling in the Crouch household as Junior got the better of Senior with that dead elf’s help.   I commit this to memory for the next time Hermione gets on her "Free the Elves" crusade.

Were I not in so much pain, I could empathize with Fudge.   Things don’t look so hot in the wake of the Death Eaters at the World Cup and now this.

The first time someone mentions the name Sirius Black in conjunction with all of this, I spit the mouthpiece out with a tone of disgust.   "Maybe you didn’t quite understand it when the Hat said he saw Peter Pettigrew in Crouch Junior’s mind."

Amelia Bones bristles.   I’d expected it to be Fudge, but today has been rather full of surprises.   "Mr. Potter, the Sorting Hat’s also stated that the perpetrator was using Occlumency to protect his mind.   He could also have been using false images.   I know you are not familiar with this branch of magic, but believe me when I tell you that is why Pensieve images are not permitted in our courts."

I fight the urge to tell her that I know a good deal more than she thinks about what can and can’t be done with the Mental Arts.   "Granted, images can be manipulated.   However, I have seen Pettigrew with my own eyes, as has Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.   Nobody would believe any of us last year because we were just teenagers.   I’m still a teenager, but I’ve killed two Death Eaters in just slightly over two months.   How many more will it take for you to start taking me seriously?"

At least three people that I can tell try to cram those words right down my throat.   I stick with Madame Bones because she’s the one most likely to see reason.   Raising my voice above theirs, "… and furthermore, if you’ll recall the inquest, this imposter was the first one in to see Crabbe, meaning there’s the person that Obliviated him.   Right there!   When you have two people by definition you have a conspiracy!"

Dumbledore steps between the two of us holding his hands up and trying to quiet things.   I spot him casting a Silencing charm at the doorway.   "Indeed, Harry does have a compelling argument and the wounds to back his concerns.   Truly, none of us can deny that there is a surge in Dark activity.   Cornelius, I have cautioned you that Lord Voldemort seeks to return previously.   Even though it is not politically expedient for you to acknowledge that fact, we must face the reality that his former minions are reconstituting."

Fudge shakes his head, "Following Sirius Black’s escape.   If anything they are rallying to his side.   Things are already ugly enough without alarming the public with stories about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name’s return.   We need to concentrate on real threats like Sirius Black."

Dumbledore sends me a look to cut off my reply.   "I too am now convinced of Mr. Black’s innocence."

"Albus!   You take a dangerous position.   Black confessed!   You yourself identified him as the Potter’s secret keeper.   What more do you need?"

My turn, "If he was such a threat why didn’t he fight the Aurors after Peter staged his death.   Surely if he was a high ranking member of Voldemort’s inner circle, he could handle a handful of Aurors.   Snape over there wasn’t very high in the pecking order, but I’m sure he could have easily taken down two or three."

"Potter!"

It’s a nice jab and a reminder that Snape still carries the Mark.   "In all your spying for our side did you ever encounter Sirius Black?"

"The Death Eaters wore masks Potter, perhaps if you thought for a moment…"

"Severus, that is enough.   Harry had a rather close encounter with a Death Eater recently and is in a great deal of pain from his injuries.   He also feels very passionately about his Godfather’s innocence.   Now, the question before us is how do we proceed?"

People start talking, but an all too familiar shriek interrupts.   "Master Harry Potter is safe!   Dobby is being so worried!"   My mostly immobile body reels under the impact of the elf.

"The other elves tell Dobby that Mr. Harry Potter is injured.   Dobby is so glad.   Tickry bring Harry Potter’s map to Dobby and now Dobby return it to Harry Potter."

Oh shit!   Thank you very much Dobby!   Everyone is looking at the slightly damaged looking piece of parchment in the elf’s smallish hands.   Even worse, it’s still active.   Dumbledore’s eyebrow arches in surprise.   "Dobby, if you would give that to me.   Mr. Potter is receiving medical attention.   I will hold it for him until then and you are dismissed."

Amelia Bones and Minerva both ask, "What is this map, Albus?"

"It is a rather ingenious creation of some rather impressive students from yesteryear."  

How did Dumbledore know about the Marauder’s Map?   Either Lupin told him or, no, it couldn’t be!   Lupin said he had help with the Runes when it was made, but never gave up the name of his assistant.   James had always assumed that it was the Ancient Runes Professor at the time, but apparently it went much higher than that!

Flitwick looks from his low vantage point and leans in, "Why those are the names of people moving about in this castle!   What a magnificent item!"   Actually, what’s remarkable is how easily distracted everyone is from this conspiracy by a "shiny toy."   James Potter probably would have never noticed this, but Harry James Potter sees the Wizarding world from a slightly different point of view.

He flips through the folds while casually commenting, "Yes, I would be most curious to learn how this came into Harry’s possession.   Truly a remarkable piece of …"

Dumbledore trails off while looking down at the map.   His eyes snap up and he looks over in my direction.   He’s not looking at me, but I can see his eyes darting back and forth with absolutely no twinkle in them.   His eyes settle on the nightstand next to my bed and his wand is out in a flash creating a bubble encasing the piece of furniture.

Inside the bubble is a tiny beetle, furiously bouncing off the sides of the enclosure as it tries to fly through the barrier.   "How lovely of you to join us, Ms. Skeeter."

Several minutes later, back in her human form Rita looks rather nervous.   I suppose it’s not everyday that you get caught being an illegal Animagus in front of the Supreme Mugwump, the Minister of Magic, the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, a pair of Aurors, the senior staff of Hogwarts including Poppy, and naturally ‘The Boy Who Lived."

Am I concerned about being an illegal Animagus?   Not really.   I don’t have to worry about it until I’m an "adult" or have at least one O.W.L.   The law on registration was written under the assumption that no one could ever achieve this before their fifth year.   James Potter achieved it before he had even set foot in Hogwarts, but he owed much of that to his private tutor from age five, Gabriella Pomeroy.   In addition to teaching him French, Latin, etiquette, and basic household magic, she was quite a feisty little mink Animagus.   Her lessons and teaching style allowed James to enter the school with so much prior knowledge that his first three years were mostly review.

In hindsight, that is probably why JP was quite the little troublemaker, but reflecting on another lifetime isn’t important right now.

"When my readers here about this attempted cover up, Minister, you’ll be lucky if they don’t run you out of the country."

Amelia Bones, a longtime victim of Skeeter’s skewerings simply smiles, "It will be hard to post your stories from Azkaban."

"You wouldn’t dare!"

"You have an unregistered talent and have been clearly using it to spy on closed door matters.   Shacklebolt, Scrimgeour, please take Ms. Skeeter into custody."   Bones stops and adds, "With your permission of course, Minister."

Fudge shakes his head slightly, "Amelia, let us not act rashly.   I’m certain that we can reach some sense of a consensus.   Rita certainly isn’t going to write an article that would incite a public riot and we’re certainly not going to lock her in the lowest levels of Azkaban with a Dementor stationed at her door twelve hours a day.   We’re reasonable people here."

The smell in the air isn’t coming from Crouch Junior’s corpse.   It’s the smell of dirty politics.

------

Deals are struck and concessions are made as the "official" story begins to take shape.   In this story, an unidentified Death Eater attempted to subvert Barty Crouch the Elder for the purpose of an assassination attempt on the life of one Harry James Potter.   The Death Eater was killed during the fracas and I, Moody, and Barty Crouch Senior were injured during the fight. Alastor Moody was credited with the kill.   The Ministry will be on the lookout for an unnamed accomplice of a particular description, who is rumored to be a rat Animagus.   This refocus on security means that Ministry assets outside of the country searching for Sirius Black will be needed back in England.   The "administer the dementor’s Kiss on sight" order will be lifted, so that Mr. Black can be fully questioned.

Ms. Skeeter will report this "exclusive" story in tomorrow’s paper and I will need to give her several quotes about my harrowing ordeal, which will probably be the closest semblance of truth in the whole article.   In private documents she will register as an Animagus, pay a fine, and agree to a two year suspended sentence provided the details of this day’s events remain unchanged.   She will also retract a series of rather humiliating stories that apparently highlighted Amelia Bones’ widely rumored and mostly scandalous social life

Minister Fudge and I, perhaps even with Albus Dumbledore in the background, will appear in a lovely photograph for the story showing the smiling and caring Minister at my hospital bedside as soon as Rita’s photographer can be brought in and at least one of my quotes will be praising the job the Minister has done.   The Minister will issue a statement confirming that this unnamed Death Eater was responsible for my entry into the Triwizard Tournament and will call for the Wizengamot to increase the funding for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in response to the increased level of Dark activity.   Additionally, in light of both recent and past actions, the Minister plans to put my name in for an Order of Merlin, Third Class, which he will present to me at the Yule Ball.

I actually fought against that, but Fudge wants to milk publicity out of me like I’m some sort of dairy cow, and in the end it’s better than looking at another picture of him rubbing shoulders with Lucius Malfoy.

Behind the scenes, Amelia Bones will be starting an inquest into the Sirius Black case which within six months will yield her recommendation that should Mr. Black be recaptured that he be brought to trial in lieu of the one that he had never had.   Any blame on this matter will be directed at the Bagnold administration and of course Barty Crouch Senior, who will be taking a medical retirement to recover from his ordeal.   When he finally regains his wits, he’ll have to live with the knowledge that anytime Fudge might need a major distraction for the public, the identity of the Death Eater can be confirmed, and he’ll be served up as a big old scapegoat.

A routine clerical review of Aurors Scrimgeour, Shacklebolt, and Dawlish’s records will discover that all three of them have been shorted a full month worth of vacation.   This oversight will promptly be corrected.

Coincidently, several of Hogwarts departments will be benefitting from donations from Fudge’s personal coffers, part of the Minister’s brand new "Commitment to Excellence in Our Educational System Initiative" in the core subjects of Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology.   The hospital ward will also be upgraded to give world class care to the "Future of Magical Britain!"

At the next meeting of the ICW, Albus Dumbledore will read a statement from Minister Fudge that expresses concern at the surge in Dark Activity and a call for vigilance on all the members of this esteemed body.

Finally, the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts two hundred and fifty year sentence  for the part it played in a student's death has been commuted based on it’s — ahem "good behavior."   However, it will not be receiving a bath and cleaning by a trio of naked Veela.   If it truly wishes that, it must find a way to pay for its trip to the famed Veela Spa in Tuscany and any associated treatment upon arriving at the Spa.

After the vows of secrecy have been sworn with Albus "Mr. Greater Good" Dumbledore serving as Oathmaster and Binder, the room begins to clear.   The Hat now rests on my head as most of the people have left.   Fudge was one of the last with our photograph and the reminder that the Potter vaults are nearly as full as the Malfoy vaults with none of the attached stigma, and that I’ll be of age before the next election.  

For what it’s worth, the Hat is doing a decent job of keeping my mind off the pain of bone regrowth.   Even so, the newly formed bones will be weak and still growing for the next seven days.   I may not even be able to hold the broom right during the broom race.   That might hamper me a bit, but I can manage.

"Personally, I thought it was a most reasonable request, Hat.   Never thought I’d see the truth so completely… I guess ‘bartered’ is the best word for it."

"We need to discuss payment for my advisory services, HJ - five hundred galleons and a trip to Italy."

"How did I not see that coming?"

"You win this thing and get the full thousand you can even have them scrub down your malnourished, scrawny flesh."

"How about Milly Bulstrode in Myrtle’s bathroom with a scrub brush and a bucket of hot soapy water?"

"Only if she’s naked and you are having intercourse with her."

"That’s low, Hat."

"If I was trying to be ‘low,’ I’d give you the mental image to go along with it, you little shit.   As it is, I’m in a good mood.   Freedom agrees with me."

"That’s because Freedom hasn’t had to see you in two centuries.   Give it a day or two."

"Excuse me Harry," Dumbledore interrupts, "I see that you and the Hat are deep in conversation, but I thought I would interrupt and ask for a moment of your time."

"What can I do for you, sir?"   I keep my tone neutral.

"Among other things, I’m curious where you came across this map?"

If I were a vindictive person, I could finger the twins, but I’ll take care of them on my own.   "Something I picked up along the way."

His expression loses a bit of twinkle, "There is also the matter of the injuries to young Barty.   Even had he not ingested the poison, I suspect that he would not have survived much longer.   I must ask you, how you managed to dispose of him?   Minerva has expressed a concern about your skills in Transfiguration."

The old Harry would have crumbled.   The Defense classroom was pretty much destroyed.   I can’t exactly blame all the carnage on the other three.   "I guess a bit of a confession is in order.   When I fought against the Dementors, it felt like something was uncorked and my magic has been more powerful ever since.   It’s like a power I never knew existed."

In every great lie, there is a kernel of truth.   This could actually be the power referenced in the prophecy.   Since he doesn’t know that I know and most likely isn’t about to confess what he’s been hiding from me, it should give him enough pause.   Instead of power, I have knowledge, and with that knowledge I can use my power.

Dumbledore looks thoughtful, "A traumatic event can often bring out the best in a wizard or a witch.   You’ve had more than your fair share of those.   If it’s not too much of a bother, would you mind demonstrating for me?"

I concentrate on the image in my mind and utter the words.   The bed next to mine reforms itself into another lion.   I keep it still while the he paces around it giving it a critical assessment.   "Fine work, Harry.   The definition is a bit off on the hind legs and tail, but it is an admirable Transfiguration, exceeding even your father’s vaunted skills.   I gather your time spent with Mr. Wood this summer has been quite productive?   There seems to be a bit more to your request at the beginning of the summer to borrow our Sorting Hat?"

"Guilty as charged, sir. I needed someone’s advice on how to handle all this.   The Hat was most useful, and when I wasn’t talking with it, I was reading all of Oliver’s books.   One thing the Hat was very keen on is the study habits of previous headmasters.   Despite the Hat’s personality, it is a brilliant observer of how people organize their thoughts."

All through this, his normal more jovial look returned, "Now your decision to retain the Hat as an advisor for the tournament becomes less dubious.   When this contest is over and I can again freely help you, my door is ever open to you.   If I am occupied, I am certain either Professors McGonagall or Flitwick would avail themselves to you."

"I’ll be certain to take you up on it, sir."

"Again, I am grateful to you, Harry.   Once more, you have proven up to the challenges that Darkness has thrown in your path.   Most stare blindly into the light, ignoring the shadows and what darkness may lurk in them.   That said, you should not close yourself off from your friends and housemates.   I understand there has been a spot of trouble between you and the rest of Godric’s house?"

"It’s trivial compared to this afternoon."

He places his hand on my still immobilized shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze.   "Indeed, but no doubt several of them will reach out to you, my boy, and express their regret.   Do not judge them too harshly is all I ask.   Look for the goodness in all and your world will be a better place."

"I’ll try sir.   If possible, I would like you to bring someone else in on the identity of the Death Eater?"

"Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger?"

"Actually, Neville Longbottom, sir."

"Neville?   Why would … oh, of course, dear Frank and Alice.   I will ponder the pros and cons of this.   The truth could ease his burden or it could reopen old wounds, but there is much honor in your request.  I will give it my utmost consideration before rendering a decision."

In my mind, the Hat comments, "He couldn’t love the sound of his voice more if he could Transfigure it into a pussy … or maybe a prick — there’s always been a rumor or two about Albus Dumbledore."  

All I can manage during this is a mumbled, "Thank you, sir."

"Now onto more pressing business, after your release from the Infirmary, please come to my office at six o’clock tomorrow evening.   Do bring your cloak as the weather is turning a bit chilly.   No doubt, you’re anxious to test your mended hand, so I would anticipate the need for your wonderful broom as well."

I sense something afoot, but play the stupid teenager.   "Where are we going?"

"Well, I figured it’s been far too long since I enjoyed a simple broom flight myself and thought that you might make a suitable flying companion.   It will have to be a rather short flight I’m afraid, my presence is required in France early tomorrow.   My dear friend Nicholas has finally released his grip on the mortal coil, and his widow grieves for him as her time approaches.   I thought I would attempt to cheer her and make her final days on this earth more bearable by bringing her a pet dog that I’ve seen in the area.   The Forbidden Forest here in England is not suited for this particular canine and I think his disposition and prospects might improve at a lovely chateau in the French countryside."

He’s wasting no time getting Sirius out of the country.   "Oh, I see.   I’ll be happy to accompany you.   I need to shake off the rust for the race."

"Of course, I look forward to our journey together.   Now, I must go and determine how to fill my void at Defense Professor.   Once again the fabled curse that hounds that position has struck.   I’m afraid Alastor was in very bad shape after enduring months of torture.   He will need several months to recuperate both physically and mentally."

"May I have the map back?"

"In good time, Harry.   With so many additional people in the castle for the tournament, I may be able to make better use of it.   Rest assured that I will take excellent care of this prized relic."

It’s a losing battle.   I know enough to roughly recreate it.   It’ll be a challenge.   I grimace as the bones begin to press against the newly crafted flesh giving me a double dose of pain.   Dumbledore takes this as his cue to leave and wishes me a restful evening.

------

The next day is a bother.   After being cleared to leave the Infirmary and listening to the song and dance of what "supposedly" happened.   Scanning the Great Hall, I see many people staring at me.   The rumor mill must have been churning out some really great ones.   Cedric gives me a nod and a brief smile.

I show Hermione the front and back of my left hand and the two new scars added to my collection.   She seems upset at missing one of my "adventures," but this wasn’t your average encounter with a troll in the old water closet either.   Two people are hospitalized for the long term and the other is dead.

"I can tell there’s more to it than what you are telling me."   She continues to wheedle dragging me towards our next class.

I pull her into a nearby broom closet and lie my arse off.   I doubt I would tell her even without the vow.   She deserves the truth, just not today.   "Hermione, I’d tell you if I could, but do you know what a Vow of Silence is?"

"Of course Harry, it’s when a person has sworn a binding vow not to speak of … Oh, that’s why you aren’t… forgive me Harry.   I’m pestering you and you literally can’t talk about what happened.   I’m just glad you’re safe!"   She throws her arm around me for another hug.

Whispering in her ear, I have a bit of fun, "You realize that if someone opened the door they’d find us in here in a rather compromising position."

She squeals and jumps back, knocking over several items and creating a ruckus.   I get a good laugh, "Good show, Hermione, now most everyone on the floor knows that someone is in this closet!"

"Quit laughing at me!"

"Oh, alright."  We wave our wands and right things.   Despite the pain in my hand, I’m in a good mood.   I know who was trying to kill me and that person won’t bother me again.   Sirius will be safe in France by this evening and Dumbledore isn’t poking into my business too much.

Smiling, I continue, "So should we disillusion ourselves and try to sneak out, or do we just walk out and see who’s around?"

"You’re such a prat."

"Unless, of course, you want to snog for a few minutes and give them something to talk about?"

"Harry Potter! I can’t believe you’d even suggest that!"   Well, now anyone actually in the hallway should have a good idea of who is in here.   She throws the door open and rushes out with her knickers in a twist, scattering some lower years with an icy glare.

In all honesty, it’s tempting.   Hermione’s a sweetheart.   Smart as any Claw, loyal as any Puff, ambitious as any Slytherin, and as brave as they come — I could do a good deal worse — but I think not.   She reminds me too much of Lily, or if that isn’t disturbing enough, a female version of Remus Lupin.   I wonder if subconsciously, I was drawn to her because of that.   All these new memories have started making me question much of how I’ve lived my life up until now.

I catch up to her, "So come on, what’s your big news?   You mentioned something at breakfast before Dumbledore started his speech."

Her face loses some of its agitated expression.   "Well, Professor McGonagall changed her mind and named me as the Gryffindor representative to the All-House squad!   She placed Lynch as the alternate.   Originally, each house would have two billets and the house with the Hogwarts champion would have only one.   Your inclusion presented a problem and both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff only received one slot.   The other day, she said she was going to go with Lynch, but changed her mind.   Isn’t this exciting?   I wanted to tell you yesterday, but you’d already left for the Infirmary.   Professor McGonagall said that my unique problem solving skills and potential outweighed the fact that I’m only a fourth year!"

"Good for you, Hermione.   I know I’ll be rooting for you!"   I wonder if it was the Hat’s comments to Professor McGonagall about her becoming a conformist touched a nerve.   It probably also explains why Holly Lynch was desperate to get me back into Gryffindor colors that morning.

"I’m excited, but it might be too much.   All the others are sixth or seventh years.   Roger Davies is our team captain and he told me that I will have to more than pull my weight.   They’re going to be tests, demonstrations, and debates!   I’ve got so very much to do!"

She prattles on excitedly and I’m glad for her.   She deserves a spotlight of her own.   We join the rest of the fourth years.   None of them signed the Censure scroll and all of them are happy to see me, though Ron seems a little guarded.   Now I have to decide how much I’ll be able to tell Sirius when I see him tonight.

------

"Someone said they saw you heading down to the broom locker," Katie starts.  

"Hello, Katie.   What can I do for you?"   I resist calling her "Bell."   Dumbledore did ask me to try to build bridges.

She looks a tad frustrated.   "This isn’t easy, Harry.   I was hoping to apologize."

"Okay."

"What do you mean by okay?"

I shake my head as I pull my Firebolt out of the rack and inspect it.   "I mean apologize if it makes you feel better.   It’s over and done, as far as I’m concerned."

She relaxes a little, "Does that mean you want to try again?"

I give her a firm, "No."

"Um, why?"

"What did I say at the beginning?   Chemistry - two people having fun together.   We weren’t really having fun and you ended up being miserable."

She looks really frustrated now.   "It’s just that you’re so secretive, Harry.   You wouldn’t let me in, like wherever you went with Neville Longbottom."

I shrug my shoulders and wipe the broom with a cloth.   "I’m a private person, Katie.   Two people have tried to kill me since August.   You kept accusing me of being too immature…"

"I’m sorry about that, really."

"I’m sure you are.   I’m not immature, but I don’t trust easily.   More importantly, I’m not inclined to change anytime soon, and even if the guy trying to off me is gone, I still have to compete in this tournament.   That’s where my focus has to be now.   If the way I was acting before was making you upset and I’m not going to be making any changes, I’m just going to end up hurting you again."

Katie protests, "But you can trust me, Harry!"

I guess I have to dust off an old favorite of JP’s, of course he typically used it after a shag.   "Katie, the timing isn’t right.   I’m pretty sure that I was the part that wasn’t working.   Right now it just won’t work.   Maybe the right time is somewhere down the road, but you deserve a bloke who can make you happy, and I know I’m not that bloke.   We need to try and be friends again, before we even contemplate anything else."

She stutters an "okay" and begs off, no doubt to have a bit of a cry.   Harry would probably chase her down and embarrass himself, maybe even take her back thinking he wasn’t good enough for her.   James would’ve tried to send her and more importantly him off with a smile from a "goodbye shag."   Happily, I’m not either of them.   She’ll hurt, but realize that I’m right.

Outside of the broom locker, the sun is already beginning to set, but I spy the distortions of two nearby disillusioned people.   My gut says Fred and George, but my nose says perfume.   I casually draw my wand and keep the broom in my hand and spin towards them.   "I assume both of you heard that.   It’s not nice to sneak up on someone.   Especially since someone just tried to kill me."

"Sorry Harry!   It’s me and Angelina."   I hear Alicia’s disembodied voice say.   We were following Katie."

"She went that way.   Feel free to follow."

Alicia reappears and Angelina follows suit.   "It’s almost sundown, all brooms are to be in the locker by then.   You know the rules."

"I have an exemption from Dumbledore, Johnson."

"Very well then.   Consider yourself reinstated, Potter."   Johnson spins to leave.

This is one bridge that isn’t getting rebuilt.   "Not so fast, Johnson.   I was serious when I said I wouldn’t fly for you.   If you’re the captain next year, find another Seeker."

"What?"

"Katie had an excuse for her behavior.   You didn’t.   I said you’d eat those words, and I fully intend to make certain of that."

"You’re a real piece of work, Potter!"

"And you’re a jealous little bitch, Johnson, but that’s just stating the obvious.   You, Lynch and Hale were the ringleaders of this idiotic Censure thing, and you used the twins to frighten all the lower years.   Hale lost his Prefect badge and Lynch lost her spot on the House competition team.   Did you really think that you were going to get out of this without paying the piper?"

Alicia interrupts, "Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh, Harry?"

"Harsh?   I don’t think so.   Harsh is what I will be if you two don’t reign in Fred and George.   Since you two lead them around by their peckers, you can deliver my warning.   I’m about out of patience with them.   They haven’t been worth my time while I’ve been worried about someone trying to kill me.   That’s taken care of now, so my schedule is less cluttered.   I’m tired of Disenchanting everything in my floor’s bathroom before I use it.   I’m tired of sitting in different spots at the Gryffindor table.   I’m bloody well sick of Hair Growth jinxes, Babbling hexes, Jelly Legs, Shouting Earwax, and all their other assorted shenanigans."      

Angelina glares at me as Alicia leads her away.   Spinnet’s always been the more level headed of the two.   My guess is McGonagall will make her captain next year.   If they tried to make me captain, Angelina would lead a revolt which Fred and George as part of it.   At least practice next year should be interesting.   Our Beaters will really be trying to hit me.

------

In a cave eight miles east of the castle I find myself face to face with Sirius Black.   Dumbledore has stepped out wishing to "observe the stars in the heavens and contemplate the grandeur that is the universe," or some such crap.   The cave is fairly Spartan, a cot, a few books, a chill box, and a battered wireless set.   He hadn’t exactly been living in the lap of luxury.

I cast a complex Privacy ward — far too complex for a fourth year.

"Harry, I’m impressed.   That’s some nice work…"

"Shut it, Padfoot.   We haven’t a great deal of time.   So close your mouth and listen to what I have to say.   Do you remember our encounter with the dementors?"

"Yes, Dumbledore told me that it shook loose some powers in you."

"I lied to him."

"What?   Why?"

"Didn’t I tell you to shut it?   It shook loose something all right, but it wasn’t power.   I found all of Prongs’s memories in my head — the entire life and times of James Potter."

Sirius looks skeptical.   "If you’re having one on me, Harry, this isn’t a funny joke."

"If I was having one on I’d tell you I have Lily’s memories and now I’m gender confused."

In spite of himself, he starts laughing.   Seconds later he sobers, "You’re not kidding are you?"

"Test me.   Ask me anything?"

"My favorite piece of Muggle Music?"

"Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones, but isn’t that a bit obvious?"

"Yes, fine what was Peter’s?"

"It sure wasn’t YMCA.   He bailed on the lot of you that night.   Everyone gave him crap about liking Abba, but he really liked the Bee Gees.   James and Lily danced to Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight at their wedding.   You came with both the Dobson twins and won ten galleons off of Peter, who said you’d never be able to pull it off.   You left with one of the McKinnon cousins when the sore loser tipped off the twins, and they pitched a fit about only being worth ten galleons."

He looks away quickly, "Don’t torture me, Harry.   Your father was my best friend.   I’ve failed him and your mum."

"Fine, here’s something no one would have told me about, Sarah Underhill.   You found James in the Prefects bathroom, because Lupin could never keep that password secret from the two of you.   You were pissed after about a half bottle of Firewhiskey and bragged how you sent that idiot fucker Snape to the Shrieking Shack.   Do you remember what James said to you that night before he ran off to save Lupin from killing Snape?   Have you ever told a soul what he said?"

"No," Sirius said with a croak.

"He said, ‘You’re a credit to your name Black.   If Remus ends up hurt or expelled because you weren’t man enough to deal with your own problems, I’ll never speak to you again.’   If you didn’t tell me, how else would I know it?"

"James?"   He says cautiously.

"I’m not really him.   I’m not even sure I’m Harry any more.   The map shows me as Harry James Potter."

"That’s ridiculous!   We didn’t…"

"We didn’t ‘make’ the Map to show middle names.   Yeah, I know.   There was so much arcane magic at Godric’s Hollow that night, Merlin only knows what happened.   I stopped trying to figure out if I’m Harry with his dad’s memories or James with his son’s body.   I just am.   Do you still have the charmed mirrors?"

"Yes, I had Remus retrieve them for me.   Does he know?"

"No.   Not yet.   The only people that know are the Sorting Hat and Ollie Wood.   Lupin and James had a falling out just before Fidelius."

"Wood?   The Keeper?   Why haven’t you told Remus?   He’s never said anything to me about any falling out?"

"I needed Ollie’s help and he was the best option at the time.   As for Remus, it’s between me and him now.   All I ask is that you let me tell him in my own time."

There’s a gleam in the old mischief maker’s eyes, "What do you need me to do?"

"Go to France, cleanup, and for Merlin’s sake, get healthy.   You look like a fucking wreck!   Dumbledore’s obviously told you about the deal we worked to get your name cleared, otherwise the vow would have shut me up by now.   Things are heating up again.   I’ll need you on your game, Padfoot.   We’ll keep in touch with the mirrors."

"In France, I can consolidate the Black fortune.   I’ll be able to send you anything you need!"

"That’s right; I need you to make some contacts as well.   At some point, if Voldemort returns and another war breaks out, I may need you to come back from Gaul like Julius fucking Caesar himself with every hired wand you can buy."

"Dumbledore won’t like it."   Sirius warns looking out the cavern towards the man in the distance.

"Dumbledore hasn’t even told me the prophecy yet."   I ignore his shocked look.   "Tell me about it!   He’s playing his own game and I’m not entirely sure what it is yet.   Until I am, he’s out of the loop.   He’s probably already this close to reforming the Order.   Let him run his own brand of interference until then.   If he becomes a problem we’ll deal with it then."

"Alright.   What about this tournament?"

"I’m bound to compete.   If I’m in it, I might as well win it and show the world that their ‘boy wonder’ is the real thing."

Padfoot smiles and grabs me in a big manly hug, "I was worried about you, Harry.   Now, I’m worried for your opponents.   Give them hell!"

I let him go.   After a few seconds, manly hugs stop being manly.   "Call me HJ.   Giving them hell is exactly what  I intend to do, starting with this broom race."

• Previous
• A House of Cards Flawed Assumptions The Summer of Change Of Innuendo and Ice Cream Closets and Secrets Plans are Subject to Change I Belong to Nowhere Censure and Sensibility Bartering the Truth Every Rose has a Thorn Appearances Can Be Revealing What's the Price of Your Fame? Caged Fear Sometimes, It's Good to be Me Code of the Marauders Dancing in the Whirlwind The Dykstra Shuffle A Prayer for Forgiveness Out of Africa The Geist and the Grotto Mind Your Manners Head Games Humiliation and Other Diversionary Tactics Cry Havoc
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