October, 1993
He'd read up on the Patronus Charm now, but practising it with Derrick wasn't going as well as Harry had hoped. Neither of them were getting anything more than silver mist – definitely not the animal protector that was called for. At least his Shield Charm was improving dramatically with focused tutoring.
He had another helper to advise him, though, on some more secret Charms practice sessions. Ambrosius was delighted to have Harry's company while he worked on various spells, though he advised him that the snake gargoyle was likely to strike if he did any spells in the direction of the mosaic, so Harry was extremely careful to face side-on for all his casting.
And Ambrosius treated him to a lecture on what he knew about Dementors and Patroni, though he had other names for them. For Patronus in Latin just meant your patron – your protector.
"Your Genius as the Romans knew it, or Patronus as you call it, is the protective spirit that watches over you. For women, it is known as a Juno. The Greeks called these kind spirits Daemons. But the Christians learnt to hate wizards and witches making offerings to any spirits at all, no matter if they were benevolent Lares such as the Genii, or the more malicious spirits like the dangerous Lemures, which you call Dementors."
"Will you tell me more about the Lemures? Are they definitely the same creatures as Dementors?"
"I could not say for certain without seeing them, but from your description I see no room for much doubt on the matter. Lemures are angry spirits that have escaped from the underworld. They bring darkness and dread wherever they pass. Their sustenance is the spirits of those who make them no offerings, or who have wronged them. They float slowly, and are nocturnal in nature, shunning the bright sunlight and cheerful places where the kinder Lares congregate. For they are the enemies of the Genii and other benevolent Lares. If you wish to propitiate Lemures, an offering of black beans at midnight will show good will and a willingness to bring them further sacrifices when you can – there are some dates in May particularly suited to making them offerings. A sacrifice of black rams or bulls if possible, of course. Or if you wish merely to frighten them away and have not yet earned the favour of your Genius, the banging of bronze pots is a sound they hate. They usually prey upon those who never make offerings, and lurk in deserted areas where the Genii are few."
"I've heard of 'Genies' – spirits that you can trap in bottles. Well, in Muggle stories – myths. I'm not sure about if they're real in the wizarding world. Are they the same thing?"
"Yes and no. I've heard of them – some types of Lares that can be entrapped in a properly rune-enchanted container. The wizards of the Arabian Caliphates certainly were skilled, by all accounts! The Genius we're discussing the matter at the moment is a particular kind of family spirit, a protective one that you may see manifesting like shining silver mist as it is drawn to defend you from harm. It is a gentle, protective spirit that is often around you unseen, and can inspire you to achieve more than you thought you were capable of. A man's Genius may take a unique form to match his temperament, or it may be a form particular to his family. A woman's Juno will often change to match her husband's, upon marriage. If there is no particular animal you feel strongly about, or that your family has a tradition of worshipping, your Genius will usually appear as a snake."
"Mine in particular?"
"No, it is the same for anyone. It was the most common form for many citizens, you may see it in many paintings or carvings, if such things survived the fall of Rome. I'd advise that if your Genius is reluctant to appear in your defence that you propitiate it with offerings at your family altar, to encourage good will so it may be called upon more easily."
Harry chewed his lip. "My family manor was destroyed years ago, and I didn't see a shrine of any kind at Potter Cottage." He wondered what form his Genius would take.
"I know you are young yet, but as the paterfamilias, the Head of your family, it is your duty to make offerings to the household spirits. And your personal Genius should receive offerings on your birthday, in particular."
"I've never heard of that tradition."
"Well, those less tolerant who followed the Christian faith frowned greatly on wizards and witches making offerings to their personal daemons. Perhaps it is no surprise such traditions have been lost.
"The Theodosian edicts in the fourth century by the last Emperor of the unified Roman Empire imposed capital punishment on those who dared to sacrifice to their genius on their birthday. Emperor Theodosius favoured the new religion over the Old Ways – death or punishment awaited those who disagreed. Our traditions and those of the mortal world diverged even further, as we were forced to hide our magic even more than before. I was sad to witness it – once we worked openly with those people who appreciated and valued our gifts, and respected our heritage."
They chatted for a little while about angels and demons, which Ambrosius insisted were just different types of Lares, and how you'd go about setting up a shrine or altar. Ambrosius was sorry to hear how thoroughly Slytherin's quarters had been stripped of all belongings and furniture, even the altar that once stood there.
"There was more here when Tom last visited me, apparently. He must have removed even the last few belongings," he sighed sadly. "It is sad to hear even the household shrine is gone."
Harry decided to change the topic, and encouraged Ambrosius to tell him a bit about the Founders. He made notes as they spoke in the beautiful dark red leather diary that Lucius Malfoy had given him. While Storm had insisted there was no magic on it, he'd paranoidly checked with Professor Flitwick just in case, who'd understood his concerns about gifts of diaries after the events of last year. He also pronounced it clean, after a barrage of spells, which was very reassuring. With the Potter crest on the front, and lovely watermarks of snakes on each page, Harry thought it would be perfect for keeping important historical notes in. He wrote in invisible ink, however, so that no-one would glance at it and see notes about things he should know nothing about.
"One thing you should understand about Hogwarts is that it wasn't just built to be a school as you know it now, it was built as a fortress. A fortress to host young apprentices come to learn magic and a trade, but also with the goal of protection against Muggles, including the Norman invaders."
"What did they teach, back then?"
"Magic, naturally! That was the main focus. And it was quite the modern innovation to bring so many apprentices together to learn magic at once. But few could make a living openly as a wizard or witch in that era, so all apprentices were expected to learn a trade, as well as keeping up with their magical studies.
"Slytherin taught warding, charms, etiquette, geography and navigation, and basic arithmetic. Gryffindor instructed those with aptitude in transfigurations and magic suitable for battles, and how to best defeat magical creatures. He also taught about the arts of war, hunting and trapping, riding, and animal husbandry. Madam Hufflepuff oversaw the gardens and kitchens, and taught potions, propitiation of spirits, farming, and various household skills and charms. Ravenclaw was their scholar who bewitched the main hall – she was skilled with both runes and charms, and taught reading, writing, history, Latin, astronomy, and advanced mathematics and Arithmancy."
Harry scribbled away furiously. "What were the Houses like back then? Many people say now that all the bad people go to Slytherin. Would you say Salazar Slytherin was a wicked man?"
"Wicked? No, I wouldn't say so. He disagreed with the other Founders about appropriate security for Hogwarts, but I wouldn't say that made him evil. He left when he could no longer stand the arguments. They were rather fractious by the end, there.
"As to the Sorting, well I suppose you know that Godric enchanted his hat to do the Sorting for them once they were gone, but in the early days they picked students themselves. The problem was, you see, that the younger and more foolish apprentices would often apply to study under one of the four Founders that they most admired, not the one whose teachings would best suit their own talents or calling in life. So the Founders started assigning students to a Master rather than allowing them to choose for themselves.
"Slytherin, your house, wasn't for the wicked. It was for the future traders and aristocrats – the talented, ambitious and cunning, with pride in their families. The explorers, the leaders and diplomats, the dreamers and planners. Hufflepuff taught the farmers, artisans, and the maidens who looked forward to being housewives – the patient and hardworking, who know that creation takes time, and who valued their communities and what they made with their hands most of all. Ravenclaw took the priests and the scholars – the intelligent and finicky, who love to read and have wit and dedication enough to spend hours at a desk learning the difficult arts of mathematics and Latin. She didn't want those who merely wanted to learn enough to get by, she only wanted those who were determined to excel at their studies. I know she found it frustrating when someone wanted to apprentice to her who simply didn't have the native intelligence to flourish under her tutelage. Gryffindor was mostly for those such as hunters and warriors – those brave enough and strong enough to rely on their bodies for a living, who know that taking great risks can yield great rewards."
"Thank you for sharing that. But, uh, just so you know, I'm not actually in Slytherin. I'm in Gryffindor."
He looked very taken aback. "That's rather a shock! All the other Heirs were in Slytherin."
"Well, the Sorting Hat did want to put me there, but Slytherin House has such a bad reputation, and I didn't want people judging or bullying me, so…" Harry shrugged.
"So it picked Gryffindor."
"Ravenclaw, actually," Harry admitted, a bit embarrassed. "Gryffindor was its third choice. It wouldn't put me in Hufflepuff no matter how much I argued with it that I was best suited to go there."
Ambrosius laughed heartily at him for quite a while, despite Harry's sulky face. "Want a quiet life as a farmer, do you? Or maybe you want a future as a weaver of fine rugs? Do you see yourself blessing all the neighbours' crops so they produce a record yield? Do you dream of a future where you settle down with a wife and a dozen children?"
"Uh no, not really. I want to be a doctor and a Healer. Save lives. Maybe reform how the wizarding world sees medicine, because it's quite backwards at the moment. Perhaps find out where magic comes from and how it runs in families. It will take a lot of study after Hogwarts, of course. Years in fact. So no hurry on settling down to raise a family." Harry blushed at the thought.
"That's Slytherin and perhaps Ravenclaw, with ambition like that and a dedication to studying. Hufflepuff!" he snorted amusedly on the last word.
Harry scowled at him. "There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff. Hard work, patience, and diligence are fine traits, and everyone likes having loyal friends." People were always underestimating Hufflepuff. It wasn't the house of the leftovers at all.
"I didn't say Hufflepuff was a poor House, lad. It's simply that the traits Helga wanted in her apprentices are not foremost in your nature. I can see that easily enough and I've barely met you. This is exactly why the apprentices didn't get to pick who would be best suited as their Master."
Harry put his quill down and cast a quick ink-drying charm, and put his embroidered bookmark in his journal to mark his place. He was done for today. But as Ambrosius fretted over when he'd come back again, his grumpy mood softened, and he promised he'd return as soon as he could.
-000-
Harry looked worriedly at the note in his hands that Professor McGonagall had dropped off to him at breakfast. Dumbledore wanted to meet with him – and he had no idea why.
"What's the letter about?" asked Hermione as she observed his worried looks, carefully not peeking at his correspondence, but unable to control her curiosity altogether.
"The Headmaster wants to meet with me at lunch time. But he doesn't say why. He just said I should meet him, and gave the password for his office. Don't you think it's a bit strange to have a gargoyle guarded office? Do you think he sleeps up there – is it like a dorm? Where do the teachers sleep?" he chattered nervously.
Neville buttered another slice of toast, and gave Harry a thoughtful look. "I have no prior engagement for lunch. I'll come with you Harry."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "You don't have to do that. I'll be fine."
"I'm coming."
"You don't need to."
"Yes, I do." Neville ignored his futile protestations, and started eating his toast like the conversation was finished.
Hermione turned to Neville. "I don't think you're invited, are you?"
Neville just shrugged and chewed his toast. Harry was quietly grateful to him, but too embarrassed to admit it out loud.
And come lunch time, Neville stuck to Harry like a burr at the end of class. Harry dug in his bag and pulled out a couple of apples. "Here you go, since you're missing lunch for me." He tossed an apple to Neville, who caught it with a bit of fumbling, and Harry bit into the other one himself.
"Thanks Harry. Why do you do that, anyway? Carry food around all the time?"
"Well, just in case I get hungry."
"But there's as much food as you want three times a day."
"Not if I get in trouble and end up with a detention," argued Harry. "I might miss out on a meal or two. And sometimes I'm too busy studying to make it to the table."
"You hardly ever get detentions!"
"It's just a habit. And look how handy it is right now!" insisted Harry, who had no intention whatsoever of discussing his habit borne of too many hungry days locked in his cupboard, long ago. He felt nervous whenever he didn't have food cached away for emergencies. "Chocolate frog," he said to the gargoyle at the secret entrance to Dumbledore's office, and it slid aside for him and Neville.
"Harry, my boy!" said Dumbledore jovially, as he entered, but he looked puzzledly at Neville. "Mr. Longbottom? I don't recall asking you to join us?"
"No sir," Neville said politely. "I won't be a bother, I'll just sit in the corner and wait for Harry. If there's time we're going to do a bit of study together before Charms."
"You're most welcome to wait outside," said the Headmaster.
"Oh, th-that's alright, I'll just wait over here," Neville said, walking away to edge past a number of spindly tables with odd silver devices on them, to sit on a small footstool next to a bookshelf. He pulled out his Charms textbook to read, acting self-assured, but Harry could see by the noticeable hunch of his shoulders he was actually really nervous about getting in trouble. The Headmaster looked distinctly nonplussed.
"Neville's fine," Harry said dismissively. "What did you want to meet with me about, sir?" Harry asked, trying to attract the Headmaster's attention towards himself.
"Ah, Harry, well if you don't mind Mr. Longbottom staying even if private matters are discussed…"
"Not at all."
Dumbledore looked perplexed still, but forged ahead. "Lemon drop? No?" he said as Harry shook his head. "Well Harry, I wanted to talk with you about your problems with mail. I understand you've been receiving quite the flood of letters! I've investigated the matter and I believe the problem is that an owl ward to prevent unsavoury types and strangers from bombarding you with potentially cursed correspondence has lapsed for some reason."
Harry stiffened. It was him. He knew it. He knew Dumbledore had been the one to cast that dratted owl ward he'd had to pay to have removed and replaced. "I'm not experiencing any problems with mail, sir."
Dumbledore looked sternly at him, trying to catch his eye. Harry watched his cheek. There was a blotchy spot on one cheekbone, just above his beard. Maybe a big mole, but it was very flat. Calm thoughts – still calm thoughts, connect with your magic, Harry thought, remembering Draco's tips in his letters over summer. Harry carefully thought about weeding the garden at Privet Drive. Gardening was always soothing.
"I understand you've been receiving a large number of letters from strangers, even former Death Eaters. I think you don't understand how potentially dangerous that could be for you, m'boy."
I'm not your boy, Harry thought crossly. "Yes, I did receive some mail from Professor Snape after I left Privet Drive over summer," he conceded. "I believe he had the best of intentions in writing, however."
"What? No, that's not who I was referring to!" Dumbledore protested. "Severus has my full trust." He picked up a newspaper clipping from the top of a pile of papers on his desk, and passed it to Harry. "A friend sent me this – she was rather concerned for you."
Harry glanced at it briefly, recognising it instantly as he'd already seen a copy of it. In the picture accompanying the article, Harry was shaking hands with the beaming visage of the Minister for Magic, while Mrs. Malfoy rested a hand on his shoulder protectively and smiled graciously for the camera. Boy Who Lived Supports St. Mungo's, declared the headline, which went on to talk about the St. Mungo's benefit dinner, with chatty detail about the important people who'd attended, and what everyone was wearing. The only thing that had surprised Harry about the article when he'd read it was the omission of information about Potter Cottage. He suspected bribery or influence there, on someone's part.
"I meant the Malfoy family," clarified Dumbledore. "You may not be aware of it, but Mr. Malfoy has a rather dark past."
"Oh, yes sir. But I believe my choices in correspondents are entirely at my own discretion."
"Well, I'll just fix you up with a new owl ward, since the old one has broken," pronounced Dumbledore, drawing his wand.
Harry drew his wand in return and took a nervous step backwards, and seeing this Neville set his book aside and rummaged in his bag hastily for his own wand, though Neville didn't point his at anyone. "No, sir. I am very happy with the current state of affairs, and refuse permission in the strongest possible terms."
Dumbledore looked bewildered to see Harry's wand pointed straight at him, and lowered his to his side. "But you are quite unprotected against cursed mail. You don't understand how common that is, and the depths of maliciousness that some people can sink to. You have enemies, Harry. One of them seeks your death even now."
Harry shook his head, and lowered his wand slightly since Dumbledore was doing so. "That may be so, but it gives you no right to cast such spells on me without my permission. In fact I have an owl ward on me already to deal with cursed mail."
"No, it's broken," Dumbledore said, speaking extra slowly and carefully. "That protection is gone. I have heard from Professor McGonagall about your correspondence with the Appleby Arrows manager and how you've invited him to come to the November Quidditch match. Which is perfectly fine, though do ask Professor McGonagall for permission on such matters in advance, on future occasions. However, you should not have been receiving mail from strangers in the first place – it's dangerous. Your ward has broken down entirely."
"Your ward is broken. My new ward is working just fine."
"I see… a new ward? Professionally set?"
Harry nodded curtly.
"Not cast by the Malfoy family, I hope?"
Harry shook his head in the negative. Not that it was any of his business.
"I was merely concerned you not fall prey to the machinations of Black or Death Eaters or others who mean you harm, Harry," Dumbledore said mournfully. "As Headmaster I act in loco parentis for students who are unprotected in this world."
Like you did for the petrified students, Harry thought angrily. Like you do for Neville. Calm. Pruning rosebushes. Working in the kitchen – dicing carrots. Sneaking carrot to eat. Slicing celery.
"I'm concerned about your continuing association with the Malfoys. And I understand you and Ron Weasley have had a falling out you have yet to repair."
"Yes sir. Rest assured I shall take due care in all my associations to only befriend the most trustworthy of individuals. Is that all? Because I have some study to do before Charms." Harry knew he wasn't being very polite, but he didn't really care very much at this point.
Dumbledore sighed, and tucked his wand away, so Harry matched him, and Neville settled back down to pretend to read some more. "One last thing. I regret to inform you that you will not be permitted to visit Hogsmeade."
"I handed in my signed permission slip to Professor McGonagall. Has it been misplaced?" Harry asked sceptically.
"No, it is merely too unsafe for you to visit Hogsmeade, with Sirius Black sighted not too far from here."
"So the Hogsmeade visits are cancelled until he's caught? There's going to be a lot of disappointed students, sir."
"Not cancelled, my boy, it's simply that you personally would make too tempting a target for Mr. Black."
Harry stiffened angrily. "So it's fine to risk all the other childrens' lives, then. It's only me who has to stay behind. Either it's safe or it's not!"
"I'm sorry, Harry. This is for your own good."
"I'd prefer it if you would address me as Mr. Potter, or Potter. Sir."
Dumbledore sighed. The boy was just angry – he didn't see this was for his own protection. "Dismissed, Mr. Potter."
Neville grabbed his bag and followed Harry as he stalked out. On the way out, Harry noticed the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, his great-great-grandfather, giving him a covert approving nod and a wink, though some of the other old Headmasters' portraits seemed to be muttering complaints about the decline in respectful behaviour from students compared to back in their day, and arguing over whether a switch, a hex, or being hung up in chains would be better for teaching him manners and respect for the august position of Headmaster.
Harry remembered on the way out that he'd forgotten to seize his chance to check the birth and death dates for Headmaster Dippet on his portrait, for Ambrosius. But it would look really stupid to double back and linger in Dumbledore's office after he'd been ordered out. He'd have to see what records were in the library, instead.
"I can get you stuff from Hogsmeade, if you like, Harry," offered Neville, as they headed off towards Charms.
Harry stopped in a more deserted corridor that didn't have any portraits around, and dug in his bag for more snacks, finding a wrapped up scone spread with jam to divide with Neville. He plopped to the ground crossly, and Neville sat down with him.
"It's not that. I mean, I would like to see it, but I was also planning to visit Grantown-on-Spey. I have a plan, to use my broomstick and invisibility cloak – it should be pretty easy to get there. But first I have to get out of the Hogwarts grounds past the Dementors, and I need to visit Hogsmeade to do that."
"Why would you want to go to a Muggle town?"
Harry bristled angrily. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to do normal stuff! Make some phone calls to my tutor, buy a pizza to eat for a bit of a change! See if there's a movie theatre!"
Neville flinched. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Just because you're only familiar with wizarding towns-"
"-I attended a Muggle primary school for three months," interrupted Neville.
Harry's jaw dropped. "What?"
"Remember how Great Uncle Algie dropped me out of a window and I bounced? They were all so happy. That was when I was about eight. But a couple of years later, there were still no reoccurrences of accidental magic – not one. My wand – dad's wand - didn't even let out a single spark when I got it, not like my new one you got for me. They thought maybe I wouldn't have enough magic to cast spells or go to Hogwarts.
"So Gran enrolled me at a Muggle school for the last term, just in case I didn't get my Hogwarts letter. They all said it would be kinder that way," he said bitterly. "I could get some experience mixing with my 'own kind', and it would prepare me for 'grammar school'. The teachers put me in some kind of 'remedial' class. They thought I was an idiot, because I didn't know about electricity or gravity or who the Queen was, and I couldn't do long division or play football. Minutiae like that. It was pretty miserable. I learnt loads, mind you. While I was occupied with that, however, people like Malfoy got to have Potions tutors and learn how to fly on a broomstick."
"I'm sorry, Nev, I didn't know."
"It's alright. I just… want you to know that while I still don't know how a 'fridge' works without ice or magic, and I'm sure I couldn't pass Muggle Studies, I do know a little bit about Muggle towns. I promise I wouldn't embarrass you, if you wanted some company. I wouldn't mind going along - just for fun. If I'm not a bother. I was just asking why you wanted to go there so badly. And you know, I bet Hermione would like to come too."
"Sorry, I was an idiot," Harry apologised again. "I reckon she might. But would she dob on us to a teacher? I think it's against the rules. I'll sound her out on it. Anyway, it's all academic, since I'm banned from going."
"That's most unfortunate," sympathised Neville. "And I cannot believe that the Headmaster tried to cast an owl ward on you without asking! He put the old original ward on, I would venture."
"Yes, I'm sure he did." They sat in silence for a moment before Harry summoned up his Gryffindor courage to speak. "Thanks for going with me, Neville," he muttered quietly, staring at the stone floor. "I'm glad I didn't have to see the Headmaster on my own."
Neville smiled. "I am your ally, and your friend. I will guard your back, Harry. Just like you will watch mine."
A/N: Some of the information in this chapter about the early running of Hogwarts was inspired by a Livejournal articles by Wellingtongoose, and I have their blessing to adapt their musings for my fic. Check out their great article on the topic called "Hogwarts: A Founding" on Livejournal.
Thanks to Thundramon for a helpful discussion about how Dumbledore should worry over Harry associating with Narcissa.
Are you wondering who the witch was who wrote to Dumbledore worrying about Harry associating with the Malfoys? Hint – she also complained about Harry snubbing Ron's apologies and refusing to be friends again.