BS"D
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Thanks again- don't know how many times I can say it- to all those who are reading this, especially to those who reviewed. Am I the only author who can sit at the computer for hours watching her story traffic rise? My editors think I'm nuts.
Chapter 9
The Difficulties of Culture Clash
Sirius drummed his fingers on the scrubbed wooden table, only half listening to Mad-Eye's report. His fellow auror was reviewing the relatively quiet week to the rest of the order. Instead, he watched the other order members, morbidly wondering who would be missing or dead by the next week. It was by no means a full meeting this evening, but he could speculate. His mood disturbed him, somewhat, though any of the others would have told him that such thoughts were understandable- after giving him unsettled looks, of course.
Normally, Sirius was- well he wasn't happy-go-lucky, but he certainly wasn't this demoralizing all the time. Oh no, he thought with a bitter snort, he saved these moments for when he spent the last 72 straight hours on duty. Something about utter exhaustion messed with his psyche. Mercifully, he was now facing a week off, provided nothing happened. He pulled himself back to reality as he heard his name. "Sorry, what?" He asked.
"I was simply asking if you had anything to add," Dumbledore said mildly. Sirius shook his head.
"No, Mad-Eye's pretty much covered it all, I think." Well he hoped so at least; He hadn't caught much of the report. He sat up straighter as the conversation turned to the subject of once again trying to acquire foreign allies, a topic that had been discussed and debated countless times. He could already tell that it would lead to nothing.
He tipped his chair onto its back legs, watching idly as the conversation deteriorated from possible avenues to a debate about whether they should be expending the manpower to acquire those allies at all. Voices rose, fists pounded the table, a couple of people leapt to their feet in vehemence and Dumbledore tried to keep order. And yet, all Sirius could think of was the fear in every face. They were grasping at straws, and each of them knew it.
A sudden explosion of fire silenced the room. In the exact center of the kitchen table, Dumbledore's phoenix appeared, the white hot flames dissipating in an instant, revealing two bewildered Hogwarts students. Sirius dropped forward onto all four chair legs, shocked. In seconds the entire order was on its feet, with a dozen wands- including Sirius'- trained on the intruders. The boys raised their hands nervously, staring around. No one moved.
"Alright, boys," Moody growled, "now this is the part where you tell us what you are doing here."
"We- we...wha…" the boy nearer to Sirius was stammering, clearly shocked to have landed in the middle of Grimmauld Place's dingy kitchen. A quick glance over at Fawkes revealed a very smug looking bird, perched comfortably on his owner's shoulder. Dumbledore stepped forward, his own wand undrawn.
"Ah, boys," he said, sounding for all the world as if the two had arrived unexpectedly for tea. "Might I ask what brings you two here tonight?" Your bird did, Albus, Sirius thought with a smile. Slowly the wands trained on the two boys lowered, though they stayed clenched at the owners' sides. The second boy, who was partially obscured from Sirius' view, cleared his throat.
"We were in your office, Professor," He said, sounding braced for an explosion. He stepped forward, ready to accept the blame, and Sirius felt his jaw drop. Untidy black hair framed a thin, handsome face- the face of Sirius' best friend. He threw a glance at James, shocked at the resemblance. The boy was even built like him-wiry and standing just below six feet. It was surreal- as though someone had taken an old photo of James and brought it to life.
"I see," Dumbledore mused.
"We needed to get the sorting hat, you see. And then Fawkes…" Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully, glancing quickly at Minerva, then back to the boy, who seemed to realize he'd made a mistake. It took a few seconds for Sirius to realize the problem: how exactly would the kid know the name of Dumbledore's pet? His mind then jumped to a conversation that he'd had with James a few weeks back, concerning the arrival of two boys who mysteriously knew things that they should not. These boys seemed to make a habit of unexpected arrivals.
"I'm afraid that stealing is not tolerated at Hogwarts, my boy," Was all he said.
"I know, sir," James' clone answered, sounding embarrassed. Then he squared his shoulders, taking on the same look that James wore when he threw all caution to the winds. "With all respect though sir, why would your bird bring us to a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix?"The second boy jumped in surprise at his question, and his eyes then swung around the room and back to his friend.
"A fair question." Dumbledore allowed. "Would you like to sit, perhaps?" he gestured to two empty chairs near the head of the table. The two boys carefully settled side by side, obviously still very aware of the drawn wands all around them. The rest of the Order also moved back to their chairs, and Fawkes departed in another spurt of flames. In all the movement, Sirius leaned over to James on his right and muttered, nodding his head towards the two "James, he looks just like you."
"What?" James started. "No he doesn't." Sirius gave his friend a look that very clearly questioned his sanity.
"Which one of us has spent more time looking at your face, mate?" The room had quieted now, and he turned back to Dumbledore before James could reply.
"Now," The Headmaster began, having settled into a chair before the nervous boys, "At the risk of sounding arrogant, I have made myself fully aware of your situation.
"I know, for instance, that you boys are-shall we say- travelers from a dimension of a world that is not entirely dissimilar from our own." Dumbledore ignored the shocked exclamations of the room around him in favor of watching for the two boy's reactions. They appeared unsurprised that he knew, merely nodding in relief. Dumbledore waited for the clamor to die down, before continuing. "I also know that you two have been tirelessly investigating the war and the life of Lord Voldemort, in the hopes of killing him." The dark haired boy nodded in confirmation.
Sirius stared at the boys, perturbed. They looked barely seventeen; how could they be thinking of taking such a thing into their own hands? His thoughts seemed to be shared by many of the order members around him, as he heard muttering break out once again around him. Above the hissed questions and shaking heads, Hestia Jones' nasal voice drifted out: "Just who do they think they are?"
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore seemed completely at ease with the bewilderment going on around him- though the headmaster was somewhat prone to a dramatic flair when he allowed himself to be, Sirius supposed. "How rude of me not to let you introduce yourselves. Please." He made an inviting gesture, indicating the room at large.
'James' cleared his throat, glancing at his companion. "I'm Harry Potter. This is Neville Longbottom." Sirius felt an electric charge of shock shoot through his body. Potter? It was far too much of a coincidence; no matter how common the last name might have been Harry's eerie resemblance to James… "You're not related to anyone here, are you?" he found himself blurting out. Harry's jerked in surprise at his question, turning to stare at Sirius blankly. It was only in those few seconds that Sirius began noticing the differences between Harry's appearance and James'. In the place of James' dancing hazel eyes, Harry's were a bright pure green. The boy's face was thinner than James' as well- which, given the disparity in their ages, was to be expected. And, curiously, standing out clear enough to be seen even from this distance was a lightening-bolt shaped scar, drawing a line down the center of his forehead.
"Yeah. I am," He said shortly. He broke eye contact to scan the faces of the rest of the assembled order: Remus, James, Bill Weasely, Kingsley and Sturgis lined Sirius' side of the table, while McGonagall, Dedalus Diggle, Moody, Fabian Prewett, Hestia Jones, and Amelia Bones occupied the other side. Rita Skeeter sat at the end, watching the entire exchange with obvious relish. Meanwhile, James was staring wonderingly at Harry, something that went almost completely ignored by the young man himself. Harry turned back to Dumbledore.
"We were researching whether Voldemort had created horcruxes for himself in this, er, world." For the first time, surprise registered on Dumbledore's face.
"Horcruxes?" He asked, emphasizing the plural aspect of the word. Harry nodded.
"In my world he had eight." Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled in thought.
"I would imagine that his soul would have become quite unstable by at least the fifth split." Sirius could not make head or tail of this conversation, but listened, enraptured nonetheless. "Is it possible that some of those Horcruxes were unintentional?" Sirius noticed Harry hesitate for a fraction of a second before answering.
"He meant to make seven, yes. He'd reached his limit by then, I think."
"Yes, I would imagine so." Dumbledore drifted into thought for a few moments, before coming back to the point. "I'm afraid I have no conclusive evidence that Voldemort made any Horcruxes in this world. Although, one must bear in mind that it was not an avenue I have focused on. Perhaps he did create horcruxes for himself- or rather, of himself. It would certainly explain a great deal." Harry seemed disappointed, but nodded.
"That's why we needed to get the sorting hat, sir." The second boy, Neville, spoke for the first time. "I mean, we didn't think it was a horcrux…we needed to get the Gryffindor sword out of it. It's goblin-made, you see. "
"A rare and valuable resource, certainly," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but I fail to see how that could have helped you to destroy any horcruxes you were planning to find."
"We needed it for the basilisk venom," he said earnestly.
"Basilisk?" Minerva asked sharply, "What basilisk?"
"The one that lives in the Chamber of Secrets, Professor."
"The Chamber of Secrets doesn't exist," Bill spoke up. "It's a myth."
"No, it does," Harry disagreed, "The entrance is in a girl's lavatory on the second floor."
"What?" Sirius blurted, in a tone of complete skepticism.
"The bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle," Harry explained, knowing even as he said it that this information would do nothing to help his credibility. A couple people stifled snorts. Harry sighed in annoyance.
"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," he said. "I… I don't really know how to explain it all to you right now."
"What's a Horcrux?" Remus spoke up, offering him a place to begin.
"It's a magical container for pieces of your soul," Harry said. "A person can only split the soul by killing another person- and then if he hides that bit in the horcrux, then he can be kept alive if he's ever attacked. The Voldemort in my world could survive the killing curse- along with pretty much everything else, I guess." Remus frowned thoughtfully.
"And you said he made eight?" Harry nodded. "Now, how did you come to find this out?"
"Professor Dumbledore told me." He answered, glancing at Dumbledore as he said it.
"Why?" Sirius asked bluntly.
"Because he knew he was dying and needed to pass the information onto somebody," Harry bit out. Sirius bristled.
"And there was no Order in your world to tell?" Even as he was saying it, Sirius knew his question was wrong- Of course there was an Order in the kid's world; how else would he immediately recognize this place when the phoenix apparated him here?
"There was," Harry said, sounding reluctant to admit it. "But Dumbledore wanted me to take care of the horcruxes myself." This set off several more outraged exclamations.
"A child?" Harry scowled. "That must have been incredibly dangerous," Sirius said, frowning in turn. It unnerved Sirius, the way the boy spoke so calmly and rationally about such a ridiculous idea. Placing a child at the forefront of a war- up against the most powerful and dangerous wizard of the age?
"It was." Harry answered. "But it was also too important to just give up."
"And your parents just let you two traipse off by yourselves on some mission?" Bill interrupted.
"No," Neville interjected. "I was at school at the time. Harry's parents…"
"My parents died when I was a year old." Sirius noticed that, for just an instant, Harry's eyes jumped to James' face before flicking back to the oldest Weasley son. It was a small movement, but enough to confirm Sirius' suspicions concerning who Harry's father was. He shared a glance with Remus, and was gratified to see that the man had picked up on this as well.
"And that makes it okay?" Bill asked, an edge of concern coloring his tone."What about your guardians?" Harry didn't answer.
"Listen," Neville spoke up, in an angry tone that Sirius could tell was unfamiliar to the round-faced boy's personality. "It's already happened. There's no point in getting all upset at Harry for going off on his own last year- especially if you don't know the whole story." Harry shot his friend a grateful, surprised look, and Sirius' respect for Neville rose several notches.
"My apologies," Dumbledore said, though he himself had not done anything. "That was unfair of us." Bill coughed and flushed bright Weasley red.
"Sorry, mate." He said, shamefacedly. "It's just weird for me. I mean I've got a brother your age- I can't imagine what my mum would say if he was doing what you are." Harry shrugged, but nodded to show he had accepted the apology.
"The thing is, I've always been…involved in fighting Voldemort. I've been on top of his list of targets since I was a year old. When Voldemort murdered my parents, it was only because they wouldn't get out of the way to let him kill me. Dumbledore- my world's Dumbledore- expected me to fight him; everyone did. "
"And that leaves us where?" Sirius asked.
"I'm going to keep fighting him." Harry said, his jaw set stubbornly, eyes blazing. "This Voldemort may not have come after me specifically, but he's still out there ruining lives. This fight is too important to give up."
"And if it kills you?"
"There are things worth dying for," was the answer.
oo0o0o0o0o0oo
Yes, I realize that this is just one big conversation. On the bright side, I managed to slip in some dialogue that I have been waiting months to do. And as always, Neville comes through in his own heroic way.
