Angel Laughter: Year Three


Tricks at Hogwarts


By the time Harry is waking up in the hospital wing, groggy, and feeling breathless he listens to Hermione's voice talking him back to consciousness, though it takes some time for him to truly understand what she is saying.

"-is innocent," Hermione is insisting, her voice just above a whisper as she continues to rattle down what has happened in the Shrieking Shark.

Harry shoots up in his bed, remembering.

Professor Allen, who Harry remembers has come out of the castle when they have come out of the pathway under the Whomping Willow, easily being recognizable by his snowy white hair, sits at Hermione's bedside, listening to her speak, a slight frown on his face, which doesn't change to a smile even when he sees Harry waking up.

By the door Minister Fudge and Snape are talking.

"Has Mr. Black's case ever been treated with appropriate precision?" he asks, voice also lowered, the form of address not being any indicator to what the young man is thinking. "Have there ever been any non-muggle witnesses, has the authority involved been a voice of unbiased justice, or do you have proof of Mr. Pettigrew being alive beyond your word?"

Hermione looks hesitant. "He didn't have a trial. And I don't know about the rest, but we saw Pettigrew!"

Professor Allen looks at her, his face unreadable, and even Harry cannot even wager a guess, but the fact that he is not smiling, still, gives Harry a frightening sense of significance.

"Sirius is innocent," voices Harry in a hiss, trying to get up from the bed, but freezing when the teacher directs his gaze at him for a long moment before trailing pointedly off in the direction of the Minister and the potions professor.

"Please let me repeat, Ms. Granger," Professor Allen says softly, quietly, almost like a warning and definitely with some echo of emotion. "A man has been thrown into a prison for over a decade for a crime he didn't commit, without a trial, and is now to be executed, also without a trial, however you do not have any evidence concerning the claimed innocence of the man in question beyond your own word?"

Hermione nods, swallowing and Harry holds his breath, trying to calm the pounding of his heart and the panic clouding his mind. The way Professor Allen has described the situation doesn't sound promising, and they know virtually nothing about the teacher to say in which direction his thoughts would take him. All they know is that he is polite and a bit sadistic about mostly harmless things.

Professor Allen sighs, the sound unexpectedly sharp, and leans back in his chair, pulling Timcampy down into his lap.

"You have to believe us!" Harry exclaims, desperate, his thoughts running a mile a minute and all towards Sirius. The Dementors and the shadow before passing out… wait.

"You were down at the lake," says Harry, eyes widening. That white hair is not easily mistaken. Hermione sucks in a breath.

"I was," the teacher agrees easily enough, "I followed you down to the lake to which you were in such a hurry, while Severus was so kind as to take Mr. Weasley up to the castle. The Dementors were gone by then...," he trails off, sighing again. "And to think I handed over an innocent man to a hasty authority. My apologies Mr. Potter." He nods his head in Harry's direction.

"You believe us?" If Professor Allen believes them, then… "Then what about Sirius? You can't leave him to die!"

Harry's outburst is too loud this time and the Minister of Magic and Snape and Madame Pomfrey all catch on to the fact that he is awake. And, suspiciously, to Professor Allen's presence. Fudge immediately comes over, and Professor Allen draws them away, out of the hospital wing as the Minister talks about what a great service he has done to the country by capturing Black, while the school nurse hands Harry and Hermione chocolate and just short of ties them to the bed.

Harry is fretting, about to panic. What about Sirius? Madame Pomfrey doesn't look like she is about to leave and with her present Harry and Hermione can't escape.

At that moment Professor Dumbledore comes in.

.

Harry has never traveled back in time and he is in no hurry to repeat the experience. It is bloody useful, but his head hurts trying to think of himself as here and as there at the same time. And then there are so many chances to interfere with what he knows is going to happen; the possibilities are endless. If he can capture Pettigrew, then Sirius doesn't have to even face execution and the prophecy of Trelawney cannot become true and…

The possibilities are endless and he tries hard to see the danger in that as he watches themselves stumble out from under Whomping Willow, watches Professor Lupin transform again, allows Wormtail to escape, sees himself see the whiteness on the Hogwarts grounds that can only be Professor Allen, as their pasts hurry out of sight and after Sirius.

Professor Allen reanimates Snape, hands him Ron and then seems to walk off, not particularly in the direction of the lake.

But Harry knows that doesn't matter, because the teacher has come and save them and Harry has to fight the impulse to tell him now that Sirius is innocent, but…

With a sinking feeling he realizes the direction the teacher takes. They are too far away from anyone to be seen, especially in this darkness, but the teacher has always been able to find Harry; visible or not, hidden or not. Suddenly he is willing to bet distance doesn't make much of a difference.

Harry doesn't wait to find out.

Hurrying, he tugs Hermione along and they struggle a bit more with Buckbeak as Harry explains breathlessly the problem to Hermione and she is suitably horrified of the notion of being found. She doesn't know how Professor Allen could possibly find them, but she doesn't to take the chance that he does, even still half in disbelief.

Harry explains some more and they argue and in the end decide it best to tie Buckbeak to a tree and run down to the lake.

They hide, watching the Dementors and themselves and hope that Professor Allen will have followed them down here.

He has. Harry sees himself almost Kissed, only for the Dementors to suddenly break off, hushing about, drifting, putting more and more distance between Harry, Hermione and Sirius. Slowly, hesitantly.

The hairs at the back of his neck rising, Harry looks over between the trees, the place where he expects Professor Allen to appear. His counterpart it about to faint… Where is he?

Something white is between the trees and his throat closes off. Hermione's breathe hitches.

Despite the white hair, the obvious eludes him for a long moment and Harry's mind, frozen, can't believe it is Professor Allen he sees.

The full moon makes his hair almost glowingly white in the night, but even that is irrelevant to the gleam of his eyes. They are the wrong color; from almost across the lake Harry can see amber pierce the darkness.

Harry looks in those eyes and feels-

Something is closing his throat and he thinks he can taste Professor Allen's presence even in the air; predatory, dangerous, undeniably dark, striking an instinct he didn't think he has. Fear so potent, it blows everything right out of his head leaves Harry shaking in terror.

Beside him Hermione is trembling, eyes wide and unseeing as she stares at the ground. Her knees have given out on her.

Harry isn't quite sure how long it takes him to find a spark of courage to hold against that looming horror and get back up to his feet, but when he looks, Professor Allen is still there. Three stretchers are there along with him as he is looking exactly in Harry's direction with his normal eyes and even with the block of ice still hard in the pit of his stomach, the sight before his eyes, real and no longer like a night terror, makes Harry already doubt what has seen only moments before.

Again.

Before his eyes, Professor Allen leaves.

As they time Sirius' rescue he thinks it is no wonder the Dementors have been forced to retreat, which is a frightening realization. Slowly, he finds himself unable to trust his own doubts, not when they seem so intent on making Harry forget, on letting him only see innocence.

.

Harry is standing in front of the History of Magic classroom. Not long ago he has stood just like this before Professor Lupin's except the Harry hadn't felt anything like he is feeling now. Anxious and silly, suspicious and disbelieving.

He hasn't properly talked with Ron and Hermione yet about how the hell Professor Allen made the Dementors go away without a patronus, what the hell that was, and when he has left his friends at the lake to search out Professor Lupin, he hasn't actually planned to visit Professor Allen as well, but somehow his feet have carried him here. Harry curses his curiosity, not for the first time.

Professor Lupin's admission that he doesn't trust his colleague as far as he can throw him does not help. If Harry's instincts make him fear, he can only guess what Professor Lupin feels in the younger teacher's presence and yet for all that, the intense layer hidden under well practiced mild manners that Harry has seen in the infirmary when the teacher has learned of Sirius' case, makes him somehow approachable enough. Makes him somehow more real, more humane and while Harry still fears him, is still wary of him enough to last a lifetime, there is substance now whereas before Harry has only seen someone (or something) as immaterial as a ghost.

And maybe it is not the most wise to still wanting to know, but Harry knocks, opens the door to the empty classroom and follows up by knocking on the office door.

There is a reply and Harry stands in front of Professor Allen, on whose head Timcampy is sitting and greeting Harry with a toothy grin as his master invites Harry to sit, offering tea, which Harry politely declines.

"Well then, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you," the teacher asks, when Harry can't find the words, feeling silly just by remembering the fear he has felt about this person calmly sitting in front of him, unassuming.

Harry shifts in his seat, watching uncomfortably as Professor Allen for once does not pull out a set of cards and gives Harry his full attention. Suddenly Harry thinks shuffling cards in conversation isn't all that polite. "Last night," Harry starts, then pauses, unsure about how much the teacher knows and finally settles on something that can be explained away. "How did you make the Dementors leave?" And more to the point, "I thought only the Patronus Charm could do that and I didn't see any…"

The professor's smile widens and Harry by now expects the chill running down his spine. "I wouldn't know about that seeing, as I told you yesterday in the hospital, that they were already gone by the time I arrived."

It is a lie.

Moreover, Professor Allen likely knows Harry knows it is a lie, because as a teacher he might know about the time-tuner. The teacher's smile has turned into a grin that Harry can't bear to look at.

"But supposing," Professor Allen continues, sounding absolutely speculative, "they weren't gone yet, perhaps my happy memories weren't to their taste?"

That, Harry thinks, is an understatement, and though it carries a startling amount of possibility, it doesn't help one bit to convince Harry of the young man's sincerity, making him only more arcane and, along with that, suspicious. Try as he might, Harry doesn't think he will ever forget the sensation down by the lake even if he should one day be unable to tell nightmare apart from reality, no matter how much he doubts, no matter how much he can't believe.

Professor Allen starts humming, looking out the window when Harry doesn't have anything other to say, but is reluctant to leave, not yet finished asking questions.

The teacher frees Harry from the chore of looking for words. "Don't you still have matters to attend to, Mr. Potter, that are quite more important than looking into things that rudely invade an individual's privacy?" He is smiling, of course, and it a normal smile, faintly amused, and Harry can't read it at all, even as he holds down on a winch in face of the very accurate and implicating accusation, something the professor doesn't miss and widens his amusement. "Though if it puts your worries to rest, I can assure you, Mr. Potter, I am as human as any being can be."

Harry nods mechanically, understanding that he is being dismissed and his mind, before swirling with questions, goes blank with relief, making Harry only notice then the tension Professor Allen's presence alone causes him. Still, Harry can't help but wonder: does the teacher know about how Sirius escaped? Does he care? He doesn't seem to care about it or the Order of Merlin he does not get now.

Harry stands up, walking to the door where he halts again, hesitant in a way that isn't anything so much as caution. Politeness and honesty, he thinks. "Professor Allen, sir…" Professor Allen is supposed to be a person who appreciates politeness and honesty, and yet… "I can't always say how… much you mean your own words."

The Professor meets Harry's gaze, gray (not gold, not a shade of gold) eyes unchanging and unreadable only to be eventually lit by a spark of something that might be laughter. This time Harry has expected to see the chilling grin cutting the young man's face, only it doesn't come, replaced by a kind curve of lips. "Of course not. You aren't supposed to."

Harry thinks maybe he has to restart his speculations and expression readings and expectations from zero.

.

Hermione is beyond frustrated. She has skimmed all books she can think off, made a list of and analyzed all their observations, few as they are, to the smallest detail and she cannot come up with any explanation to what she and Harry have seen that night. Harry mentioning to her Professor Allen's suggestion of his memories not being liked by the Dementors, has resulted in her working even more, researching the entire vene of implications behind it in the last few days before the holidays start, only to find that it is a hardly explored subject and even more difficult to find.

She has skimmed magical creatures' books, she has covered historical records for Dementors' unnatural behavior, even looked into Dementors' natural enemies, she has tried to dig into Professor Allen's personal history, but only hit a blank when all papers she has access to tell her absolutely nothing and after spending the rest of the school year in the library she finds for all her obsessive effort nothing worth of notice beyond that the teacher comes from abroad. The lack of success and answers leaves her harried, exhausted, irritable and stressed.

A sickly parlor is to her skin and dark bags are under her eyes when they sit on the train to King's Cross, snappish and its obvious that Professor Allen has slipped off her list of trustworthy teachers.

Looking at her, a small voice in the back of Harry's head suggests that Hermione's unhealthy and unhappy state is the only reason Professor Allen has bothered to give Harry an answer in the first place. Not a spark of truth, not even a hint of a glimmer, not a generous offer, not words implying trust, but a bait leading those with curiosity to punishment for asking questions. A warning.

It is a chilling notion, even more so when Harry can see it as only all too possible, that makes him angry and all the more determined to not give up the puzzle that his his history teacher, yet at the same time, it scares him in a different way than anything else, because it isn't Harry that has payed for his questions.


AN: The third part of Year Three.

This is the first year to take more than two chapters and it is not going to be the last.

Thank you for reading and please be so kind as to leave your thoughts on the way out.

TBC.