Disclaimer: Not even overpowered fanon spells can take Harry Potter universe away from JK Rowling.

My first post-review note: A lot of people (including the few who read this story before I started uploading it) have trouble with the Bud/William thing. In case you haven't noticed, Bud A. Lerner is a play on my pen name butalearner (as in, "when we first met I was but a learner, now I am the master"). It really does sound awful if you try to picture a British person saying it, so I myself think of the main character as William.

A Curse of Truth

Chapter Six: Parting Ways

"Bloody hell, mate. That was wicked!" Ron says without preamble as I join the Golden Trio for breakfast.

I wince at the volume. "Remind me not to do that again." I glance at Hermione when she glares at me. It's not a playful glare, either; I'm fairly certain she's trying to burn a pair of eye-shaped holes in my head. "For at least another couple days," I add with a smile.

Shaking with anger, Hermione finally explodes. "You...you prat! You bloody prat! You scared the bloody hell out of me! Don't you even think—"

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, Hermione!" Her fury is not tempered in the slightest, and Harry and Ron are taken aback by her curses. "Look, Hermione, I wasn't really in any danger...I was just...I'm sorry for scaring you. And I'm kidding about doing it again. Pomfrey wouldn't give me pain potions last night. I'm not looking to go through another night like that."

Harry rubs her back and her wrath seems to abate as I do my best to look as sorry as I feel.

"What was that, anyway?" Harry asks quietly. "That...whatever you did actually melted the dummy and then continued through it as if it wasn't even there, then impacted the wall and shook the room before you passed out and it died."

"Uh, just something I picked up."

"William," Hermione growls, then she takes a deep breath when Harry rubs harder to try and calm her again. "I couldn't find anything about that...spell...in the Room, if it even was a spell. It sounded more like a...like a ritual! A dark ritual!"

"Didn't sound dark to me," Ron says through a mouthful of biscuit. Not a cookie, I mean whatever they call the fluffy, flaky, bread-like things here. "I heard him talking about phoenixes and divine flames and justice and such."

"And didn't you say something about being at half power or something?" Harry asks. "I remember you saying, 'Four of eight' and 'two of four' something or other...I'd hate to see full power, if that were the case."

"Not every spell can be found in books, Hermione," I say with a secretive smile. At least, no books in this universe. Unless the Harry Potter universe is in fact part of the real world, in which case the main part of the spell won't be around until somebody makes it up a decade from now. But Hermione doesn't need to know that. "And Harry—"

"Can you teach me?" Ron asks excitedly.

I have to suppress a chuckle. "Sorry, I don't know the wand motions, if there even are any. And I might not have the incantation at the end right, I just thought it sounded awesome. Also, Harry, I just made up all that stuff at the beginning and wandlessly made all those lights swirl around me. I figured saying that was half power made it seem even more awesome."

Hermione's face flares up in anger again and Harry rubs her back again.

Ron deflates in disappointment. "Well it did look awesome."

I look at him askance. "Do you guys say 'awesome' here?"

He shrugs. "Just trying it out."

"That's brilliant, mate."

Hermione scoffs, after my banter with Ron combined with Harry's ministrations thankfully cools her temper. "Really William, that's positively awful."

"Hey, I'm trying!"

So far I'm keeping my promise to avoid magical exhaustion. Harry, Hermione, and I make it up to the seventh floor after breakfast to meet Luna the next weekend. Ron begs off, for which I was both thankful and surprised, considering how clingy he can be. Now that introductions are complete, we simply greet each other, stand in comfortable silence for a while, then say goodbye. It's a weekend, of course, but I still look forward to those times.

I am victimized early on by a rather mild prank perpetrated by the Twins, turning my robes a bright pink for that entire Sunday. It was nice of them to keep it to the weekend. They express disappointment that I do not rise to the challenge, instead immediately conceding that they are the greatest pranksters ever. Unfortunately I think this only serves to encourage them further. Not looking forward to that.

I make up a bit of my debt to Professor McGonagall, but I've still got a long way to go. She insists that my fetching and sorting tasks were worth a full galleon, even though I expected less. I guess I don't have a real solid feel for economics in the Harry Potter universe yet. I have no idea what the exchange rate is in 1994, but I figure a low end job in the US is probably around the equivalent of a galleon an hour, and the job only took me a half-hour. I don't argue too hard, because it means my debt is down to thirteen galleons and change.

Classes are actually going quite well, all things considered. I thank Hermione profusely, but any brownie points I win are immediately lost when I fall to my knees and insist I'm not worthy. Apparently she hasn't seen Wayne's World, or it isn't out yet in this reality. Oh well.

When Crouch-Moody walks in to DADA today it makes my skin crawl as usual, but I'm suddenly gripped with panic when he says he is going to cast Imperius on all of the students. Hermione brings up the illegality of it even with the headmaster's permission, and as soon as he offers Hermione the option to be excused, I shoot up out of my chair.

"May I be excused, Professor?" My voice quakes with fear, but I don't care. Maybe that will help my case. I don't care if it's illegal, it's the possible effects that have me scared to death. I don't know what information Crouch can pull from my mind, but I'm not taking any chances. It might not work quite like Legilimency, but he could probably order me to say why I'm afraid.

Yeah, that would definitely be bad. Standing up and saying, 'because you're Barty Crouch Jr. using Polyjuice potion to imitate Alastor Moody' is a good way to end up on the receiving end of a killing curse.

He waves his hand and grunts in a gesture that I assume means I can go. I hear some jeers behind me quickly cut off by the impostor before I flee the room.

"Is everything okay, William?" Hermione asks when they find me at dinner after class, most traces of indignation from our little spat a week earlier gone from her voice. Even though she's worried about me, I can tell she's still a bit unhappy with me. She and Harry sit across from me, Ron sits next to me.

I nod. "Yeah." I don't elaborate at first, but her fidgeting is enough to tell me she would like me to do so. I sigh. "I don't know how the Imperius curse works exactly. For example, would he be able to see thoughts? Memories?"

Hermione's face pales.

"Why—oh..." Ron says.

"Yeah," I say.

"I don't think so...I mean...it probably just..." Hermione starts, but trails off.

"We'll have to be more careful," Harry says.

"You don't need to," Ron says, then turns to me. "You should have seen it, William. Harry can throw off the Imperius curse! Only wicked powerful wizards can do that, you know."

"That's amazing, Harry," I say, trying to sound surprised despite the fact that I already know. "I may not know how it works, but I know enough to say he's right."

Hermione leans over and whispers in Harry's ear, after which he nods. Then Harry turns and whispers something in Hermione's ear, after which she nods as well.

Ron raises an eyebrow at me, then clears his throat. "You know, I don't want to get in the middle of it, but if you two are going to start snogging, you might have waited until Hermione's old snogging partner isn't around." Ron jerks a thumb at me.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald. William, will you meet us in the seventh floor corridor after dinner? Ron, Harry, and I have to run back to the dorms, but we'll meet you there."

I think I have an idea of what they're going to do. "More secrets, eh?" I ask with a smile.

Hermione looks troubled by that and appears to want to say something, but she merely sighs. "We all must have our secrets, I suppose."

"Yes. Yes, we must."

I eat the rest of dinner making small talk and listening halfheartedly to Ron's brothers discussing how Dumbledore might enforce the age limit and ways to get into the Tournament. I'm thinking about what secrets the Trio is apparently going to tell me, and what I'm going to do about it. Not for the first time I'm considering the ramifications of dropping my knowledge at different points in time.

Yes, I could probably stop Crouch by going to Dumbledore right now. I have to say probably, though, because damn those fanfic authors who point out how ridiculous it is that Dumbledore could be fooled so many times in a row, therefore coming to the conclusion that he is actually evil. What if he is, and Harry really does just get insanely lucky in canon? Well, that's no good to think about. Assuming Dumbledore is indeed a true Champion of the Light and he does stop Crouch, what then?

Harry never gets transported to the graveyard. Voldemort either bides his time and captures Harry later, or comes back without the blood protections. That's not a terrible possibility, considering I can also tip Dumbledore off about the Horcruxes. Or I can try to bust out of here and find them myself, although how I would get into the Lestrange vault is beyond me.

Alternatively, I spring a trap at the graveyard itself, not showing my hand until Voldemort is about to come back. Risky, considering the fact that I'm changing things now, and Harry could end up dead. Or Cedric could grab the cup before Harry gets his hand on it. I could still try the Horcrux hunt on my own, but the same problems with that plan remain.

I put a cheery face on when the Trio takes off, but I'm back to brooding in no time. Damn, what am I going to do?

"Well, well, if it isn't the poor f-f-frightened f-f-foreigner," a haughty voice pretends to stutter behind me.

I turn to regard a sneering Draco Malfoy, framed by his two hulking minions. Suddenly remembering another fanfiction, I smile. "You have minions? That's awesome! I've always wanted minions. How do you get them?"

He's thrown off by my lack of Harry Potter-esque retort. Sorry, Draco, not my style. His trademark sneer returns in no time. "Like a scared little Gryffindor could ever have minions."

"Well, I'm not sure if I even want them. Do they have a talking, magic-wielding kind, or just the silent, menacing type?"

Draco sneers at me. "They do not speak until I give them leave."

"Yikes. Hey gentlemen, if you want to be my minions I'll let you talk and everything."

"Don't try to steal my minions!"

"Hey, it's not stealing if they come willingly. But okay, I'll stop trying if you say so. Do you have any leads on other potential minions? It looks like you've cornered the market on large and menacing, but I gotta start somewhere."

Draco looks confused, glancing around. His face turns red when he sees the Twins snickering at him. "What are you laughing at, blood traitors? You couldn't afford minions anyway."

Ah, apparently he doesn't know about my abject poverty. "Hey Fred and George, are you interested in being my minions? I can be yours, too."

"Having minions doesn't work that way!" Draco says hotly.

"Sure, Bud, we'll be your minions if you'll be ours," one of them said.

"Hey, Lee, will you be my minion? Fred will be yours." Ah, so the first one was Fred, and that's George. I still won't be able to tell them apart.

Fred gasps theatrically. "Hey!"

"Wait, I wanna be a minion, too!" a voice I don't recognize calls from further down.

Draco walks away in disgust and Fred and George break out in laughter.

I stand up and walk away in satisfaction as the rest of the table is still trying to secure mutual minionships.

When I reach the seventh floor corridor, I stand at the usual window, looking out over the evening sky. The shadows falling in the opposite direction lend an almost entirely different look to the surrounding land, even though I can recognize individual features when I focus on them. I have a feeling the trio will probably show up under Harry's invisibility cloak, but on a whim I walk around to the other side of the quad to see if Luna's there. Once again I'm disappointed to find she is not.

I return to the usual side at the top of the stairwell, but instead of gazing outward I sit in silence, listening to every sound. I'm determined to hear them approach, but the ambient noise and distant clatter in the castle will make it difficult.

Or so I thought. It isn't long before I hear rustling, and opening my eyes a moment later I see a quick flash of the boats that Ron calls shoes. I stand up and give a wide smile to where I think their faces are. "Now that's a cool toy."

Hermione throws it off in a huff. "We wanted to surprise you," she says in her whiny voice. "How did you see us?"

"Secrets, Hermione," I say with a smile. She looks annoyed at me. "Okay, okay. If it were just you and Harry you guys might still fit," I say sympathetically. "Ron is going to have to crouch down if he goes with you."

She huffs in indignation. "I told you, Ronald!"

"Hey, it's not like we're doing anything bad this time anyway," he says in his defense.

"This time?" I ask, eyebrow raised.

Hermione glares at Ron. "Come on, I'll get the Room set up."

A short time later the four of us are seated comfortably in a relatively small study. I say relatively small because we've been using this as a part-library, part-dueling pit, part-potions-lab, part-sitting room, et cetera almost every time. There is still a respectable library here.

"Okay, William, since you found this place and have helped us quite a bit, we're going to let you in on a little secret," Hermione says.

"Ooo, dramatic. So are you the evil Dark Lady bent on taking revenge against the righteous forces of Severus Snape and his trusted lieutenant and sometimes lover Draco Malfoy?"

Harry bursts out laughing. Hermione does not find this as amusing as I do. "There are so many things wrong with that image that I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. I think the nightmares will be quite enough. I'm serious, William."

I bite back the obvious Sirius joke here. "Okay, so what have you got?"

"We've got a way to make sure nobody will ever see us come in here."

Ah, yes, that. I play dumb. "The cloak?"

"No," Harry answers, moving to kneel on the floor then spreading out a folded sheet of parchment on the coffee table in between us. "This. The Marauders' Map."

I join him on my knees, leaning over to study the Map. The movies don't really do it justice, it's really incredible. My eyes find Moody and Crouch next to each other, and my blood runs cold.

"What's wrong, William?" Hermione asks.

Damn, she must have seen my face pale. "Uh..." I glance around on the map, trying to think of something. Oh yeah! "We're not on it?" That's a pretty lame excuse, I know, but at least it took their attention away.

"That's impossible," she says, and starts searching for us herself. After a few moments, she looks back up with a frown. "You're right..."

"This has never happened before..." Harry says.

I know the answer, of course, but I let them stew on it.

"Maybe we aren't on it anymore?" Ron offers.

"I didn't do anything to it," Harry says, "and even if I had thought of trying to remove us, I've only known William for a couple weeks, so I wouldn't have thought to go back and remove him, too. No offense, William."

"None taken," I say. I almost say more, but I figure I should let them figure it out.

"Maybe we should ask somebody," Hermione says.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't. "What if it's just the Room? It's not on here, is it? Maybe the people who made it couldn't add it since it changes shape or something."

"Or maybe they just never knew about it!" Hermione says excitedly. "That has to be it. That's brilliant, William!"

I shrug, feeling uncomfortable for taking credit. "The people who made this are the brilliant ones. So Harry or Hermione hides under the cloak and consults the Map, making sure the coast is clear for the rest of us. I guess it'd look least suspicious if I were the one hiding, but I think my feet would be visible under the cloak. Hermione's probably the next best choice."

"Why?" Ron asks.

"I think I get it, William. We three have been friends all this time, people might ask questions if it looks like Ron and I ditched Harry and William was there. But if I wasn't around, people would probably assume you guys ditched me in the library." Hermione then puts on a fake pout. "Prats."

"Makes sense," Harry says.

"So it's agreed then," Hermione says with a nod of finality. "And we can check the corridor right here before we leave."

"Smashing," I say, trying out more British-style slang. That one actually doesn't sound too different with a British accent, so I like it. "Now, what say we bring up a dueling dummy and melt it?"

Hermione lands a solid whack. "Don't you even—"

"Kidding! Kidding!" I say rubbing my shoulder. "So what's the plan, my Mistress? How may I serve the Dark Lady Hermione?" I duck another swing.

"Well, William the Great Prat, I actually wanted to find out some information on the Imperius Curse, to see if there might be a way to throw it off."

"We already know that. Just be wicked powerful, right Harry?" Ron asks.

"Yes, I suspect that could be a solution to most problems in the wizarding world," Hermione says wryly. "But until then, it would be nice to find alternative solutions."

Hermione hands Harry and Ron one book each, and sets her stack of books in front of us, gesturing for me to grab one. I swipe the one off the top and settle in. Unsurprisingly Hermione was quite thorough in collecting potential sources. This one is an account of one of the first wizards accused of using the Imperius curse after it was made Unforgivable in 1717, an effort led by then Minister for Magic Eldritch Diggory. The accused wizard staged a significant legal battle that split the opinion of the Wizengamot almost down the middle, partially because some members felt the relatively young Ministry of Magic had usurped its authority. The Wizengamot traces its roots to the Wizards' Council that had been around since the time of the Founders, while the Ministry of Magic was formed about a century prior to the trial. I try to skim through unimportant parts like legal proceedings, but I keep finding potentially promising tidbits of information. For example one alleged victim claimed to have resisted the curse using 'mind magic,' but unfortunately no further details were given. I'm fairly certain this refers to Occlumency, but I suppose there are other types of mind magic than what was discussed in canon.

I glance up and it looks like Ron is nodding off. Harry is flipping through pages as if he's looking through a magazine. Hermione, on the other hand, is in the zone. Sighing, I leave a placeholder on the page that refers to mind magic and continue. A short time and no further leads later, a sigh of disgust from the chair next to me signals the time for the first discussion.

"No luck?" I ask.

She sighs again. "Not really. These ones only really discussed possible ways to recognize victims under the Imperius curse. I think there is something to your theory about only finding books in the castle if all we have to work with are scraps like this. Did you have any luck?"

"A bit. This is an account of the trials of a wizard accused of using the Imperius curse shortly after it was made Unforgivable. He used it to influence a string of Wizengamot votes, and was caught by the key witness who claims to have resisted it using what he called 'mind magic.' Does that sound familiar to any of you?"

Ron shrugs, Harry shakes his head.

"Well there's the Memory Charm obliviate, used to modify memories," Hermione pointed out. "I suppose that's a type of mind magic, though I can't imagine that's what he meant."

I sigh. "I'm thinking it might refer to Occlumency, but I was hoping you guys might have heard of something else."

"What's Occlumency?" Hermione asks.

"Mind you I'm not an expert, but as far as I know it's simply the way you defend against Legilimency, which is the magical way to read someone's mind. That victim doesn't even have to be a willing participant; a master Legilimens can pull memories out of your brain that you didn't even know you had. So I guess Occlumency is the way to stop it." I have to be careful because I'm not sure what tidbits are from canon and what's from fanfiction, which has explored this particular branch of magic quite thoroughly. For example I remember something called a perfect Occlumens who can feed false memories to even the most skilled Legilimens. Makes sense to me, but I can't remember where I got that. Or even if Legilimens is the proper term for someone who practices Legilimency, or if it's just the incantation. Oh well.

"That's great, William, that gives us a place to start!"

"To start, maybe," I say with a frown, "but I'm not even sure it would work."

"Maybe we can ask Moody," Hermione suggests.

"I think perhaps Professor Dumbledore would be a better choice," I counter. Even though Crouch helps them out on occasion, obviously I'd rather they not confide in the Death Eater at all, but I can't figure out a way to convince them of that. "Snape also has skills in both, but I don't imagine you'll want to ask him," I say with a smile.

Hermione looks shocked. "How do you know that?"

"Ah, I have a bit of skill in Occlumency," I say, not knowing if that's really true despite what the Hat said. "When Snape asked me about my background in Potions I felt something when I met his eyes, so I quickly looked away."

"That can't be legal!" Hermione shrieks.

"I don't know if he was actually trying to read my memories, or just figure out if I was lying. I think he was just satisfied enough when I admitted I'm not very good at Potions. He seems to respond well to my self-deprecating statements; he hardly looks my way."

"You shouldn't have to do that, William," Hermione chides.

"No, but sometimes you have to deal with teachers with a superiority complex. As long as I'm learning, I don't really care if he thinks I'm worthless." I glance at Harry. "Although if I started sticking up for myself it might take some heat off you, Harry."

"I wouldn't count on it," Harry says. "He's had it out for me ever since my first day, and is always calling my father names. They must have some kind of history. In any case I just try to keep my head down, like you, so I couldn't ask you to do anything else."

I stay silent. I would do something if I could, but I really can't afford to have Snape find out who I am, or where I'm from, rather. I don't know exactly what he can find out without the incantation. "Sorry, Harry, I would...I wish I could."

He waves it off. "Don't worry about it. So are we going to ask Dumbledore, then?"

"We could see if he's available right now," Hermione suggests. "We've got plenty of time until curfew."

"Uh, do you guys mind if I sit this one out?" I ask.

"Why's that?" Ron asks, perplexed.

"I...uh, would prefer it if I could draw as little attention to myself as possible."

"But William, you might be on to something here, and it wouldn't be fair not to credit you with the idea," Hermione says.

"No, no, that's okay. Just say 'we' found it while researching ways to resist the Imperius curse, and don't elaborate. It's the truth, after all."

Hermione gives me an unreadable look. "I don't like how easily you lie, William."

I wince at that. I'm not gonna lie, it hurts. "Hermione..."

Harry saves me from responding. "Hermione, he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, and we should respect that. In fact, I've wished I could do the same ever since I got here. I'm not about to drag him into any kind of spotlight if he doesn't want to be."

"Harry, you know what kind of damage other people's secrets have caused you in the past," Hermione points out. "You of all of us should be wary of that."

Harry wants to reply but I jump in. "Thanks, Harry. And I know, Hermione, it comes down to secrets once again. I swear on my life and my magic that I'm on your side, but I really can't give them up. Not yet."

I see Harry and Ron glance back and forth between me and Hermione in my peripheral vision, but my eyes are still locked on hers. She turns away. "And what side is our side, exactly?" She asks after a moment.

"Your side. Not Voldemort's. Not the incompetent elements of the British Ministry." I pause. "Not even Dumbledore's. Just yours."

"That doesn't make sense, William! You've only just met us!"

"Would you believe it if I said—"

"No," Hermione cuts in. "No, I wouldn't." Her hard look combines all of the mistrust and anger she's built up for me since the whole ritual thing.

My gaze drops to the floor. "I'm sorry, guys, the truth is part of my secret, and I just can't... I'd understand if you want to cut me out. I'll leave you guys alone if you want me to."

She runs her fingers through her hair, sighing. "Maybe that would be best."

"Hermione!" Harry says incredulously.

"Harry, think about it, how long have we known him? And yet, we've already told him secrets that less than a dozen people know, including us?" Her eyes widen at her own statement, as if she hadn't realized what they've done. She really gets on a roll after that. "Why would he be so friendly to us right away, and how does he seem to know us so well? How does he know all these things? Something is off about him, Harry, and you know you have to be careful!" Well that's not good. It looks like she's thinking all the way back to when we met, because her glare beats down harder and harder as time goes on.

Harry looks troubled, while Ron looks confused. I have to look away from all three.

"She's right, Harry, you should be cautious," I say. I'm somewhat proud of the fact that my voice doesn't waver at all, though it might sound a bit emotionless because of it. "I can't really blame her, since a few days after I met you guys I practically told her much the same thing. It's fine. It's not like you can't change your minds later if you want, once you figure out I'm sincere."

Hermione turns her back on me, and Harry and Ron both plop onto a chair. When it looks like nobody is going to speak, I go ahead and continue.

"I could use some more spare time, anyway. I need to talk to some professors about possibly taking me on for some part-time work so I can pay McGonagall back as soon as possible." I turn and start for where the door would be, but I stop after a few steps and turn my head slightly to speak over my shoulder. "Oh yeah, is the coast clear?"

"Yes," Hermione says after a pause.

It feels like both she and Harry want to say more, but I cut them off. "See you guys around, then."

"William!" Hermione says, voice thick with emotion. I continue walking toward the door. "Just...be careful."

As I open the door, I chuckle softly, then look back at them. "Aren't I always?"

The door shuts behind me, and I wince at the sudden pain within my chest cavity as I lose my only friends here.

"Welcome, Mr. Lerner, have a seat," Professor McGonagall says, studying me over her glasses.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor."

"I am Head of Gryffindor House, Mr. Lerner. I would be remiss if my students did not feel they can come to see me whenever I am available. Now, what can I do for you? Did you speak to other professors about part-time work?"

"I did. Professors Babbling, Vector, and Sinistra all said they would think about it, but none of them seemed too keen on the idea. Professor Hagrid seemed flustered at first, saying he wasn't sure if it was proper. He was doing some woodcarving, and when I expressed an interest he dug out a basic set of palm tools for me to borrow, since they're too small for him. After he taught me a bit he said he'd bring my request up to the headmaster to see if he could do anything."

"That seems promising."

"Yeah, though hopefully it's something for helping out the younger years. I'd prefer not having to deal with those blast-ended skrewts any more than I already have to. The ones with scorpion stingers make my skin crawl."

She chuckles at that. "Indeed. It's unfortunate that the other professors weren't interested. Did you tell them why you were looking for work?"

I feel my face flush. "Not really, I'm...well, a little embarrassed about it," I admit.

She frowns sympathetically. "I'm sure I could speak to them on your behalf."

"No...I really appreciate what you did and what you're doing for me, Professor, but I'd rather not they hire me out of a sense of pity. I'm really interested in Runes, so maybe when Professor Babbling gets to know me better she'll reconsider."

She closes her eyes and sighs deeply. "It is not weakness to ask for help when you need it, Mr. Lerner. In any case, I have additional tasks for preparatory tasks for you tomorrow evening and the night after, if you're interested."

I nod eagerly.

"Good, I'll meet you here at seven o'clock after dinner tomorrow, Mr. Lerner. Good night."

A pair of even easier tasks that made up two more galleons of debt later, I found myself facing another lonely weekend ahead of me. After spending the first few meals with only my thoughts, I began sitting with Neville, Dean, and Seamus during meals, including the current breakfast Saturday morning. Dean and Seamus always go off on their own tangents while Neville and I sit in silence, and today is no different. I study the other quiet boy, and I find with some surprise that he doesn't seem nervous or awkward, more that he's just content with silence. That reminds me of something...or someone, rather.

"Hey Neville, can I show you something after breakfast?"

He jerks at being addressed so suddenly, then blushes in embarrassment. "I-I guess so."

I give him a nod and return to my breakfast. Some of the things they serve are a bit bizarre, like Marmite, which supposedly goes on toast but looks like something that should come out of a car's oil tank when the owner waits too long to change it. I suppose it wasn't the worst thing I've ever tasted – that honor belongs to the time I tried to make my own Vietnamese food. I don't know what Vietnamese chefs do to make fish sauce not taste like liquid salt, but – actually, Marmite reminds me of a more paste-like version of plain fish sauce. But I digress. I do find it appalling that I never ate poached egg in the States.

After breakfast, Neville and I climb the steps to the seventh corridor, and I smile widely when I reach the top.

"Hello again, William, I see you've brought another friend," the familiar sing-song voice greets me. I smile and give Neville the same silent instructions as I gave Hermione. I'm surprised that after a moment, Luna leans up against me slightly after a short time. Tentatively I drape my arm across her shoulders, after which she hums contentedly and continues to gaze out the window.

Strangely, it doesn't feel awkward at all when I eventually detach from Luna and turn to leave, only to find Harry and Hermione on the other side of Luna. We share small, sad smiles before I turn to the newcomer. "You can stay if you like Neville, I'm just on my way to meet Hagrid anyway. I know I'd prefer to stay otherwise."

"Are you sure?" Neville shifts uncomfortably. "I-I've never seen anything so...so..."

"Definitely, and I agree. See you around, guys."

I make my way down the stairs, feeling some eyes on me as I go, but I continue walking. As I go I try to remember what the trio is up to, and I can't come up with anything between now and the time Beauxbatons and Durmstrang show up. I think Hermione does some S.P.E.W. stuff. Oh yeah, I think Harry trades letters with Sirius a few times about his dream earlier in the summer. I can't think of anything for Ron at all; I just know he gets all jealous when Harry's name comes out of the goblet. I suppose everything went fine without my interference up until the Third Task - except the Yule Ball fiasco for which I hope to give Harry a nudge in the right direction - so they're certainly fine for now.

A stray, inane thought strikes me immobile: I wonder if I could beat the age line, considering my real self is over seventeen?

A/N:

It looks like, historically, a galleon an hour might not have even been a little high for the absolute lowest end job. I have no idea how it might work in the wizarding world, though I imagine there is no such thing as a minimum wage.

Expanded history: Eldritch Diggory was supposedly one of the most accomplished Ministers for Magic, according to Pottermore. There is no date given, so I took liberty with that. The Wizards' Council was essentially a small group of wizards that ran everything. Sometime between 1600-1629, the Ministry of Magic was formed to provide some checks and balances.

I've never had marmite and it sounds absolutely disgusting, but I would definitely try it.

Palm tools are for small woodcarving projects, or detail work on larger ones.

Fanfiction references in this chapter all point to LessWrong's Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, the fic that started it all for me when I happened across it on Goodreads one day. It's unfinished, and has fallen off in later chapters in my opinion, but the beginning is incredible. There seems to be a lot of hate for it, though, so perhaps the novelty of the entire fanfiction universe to me colored my perception of it.

R & R, C & C