Common Sense: The Odd Ideas File
A Father's Love, Part 3
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James Potter continually doubted his decision to accept a place on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. He had joined three years before his sons were ready to attend, as was the tradition for those wealthy families invited to join the board…and listened to every sort of bellyaching and minutiae imaginable. Who knew that the Governors griped about the school menu or about the state of the Quidditch pitch or when it was time to replace the bed curtains in the Ravenclaw dormitories.
Why did they never have a substantive discussion on the curriculum? He knew Amelia Bones had comments to make. James certainly did. But the meetings were always thirty minutes shorter than necessary to have a real discussion. Real discussions didn't exist, after all.
James knew it was all for show. The Headmistress and her staff did whatever the hell they wanted…and then had the Board rubber stamp it.
Just walking through the place was a punch in the face. The facilities were old, of course, as it was a millennia old castle, but it had never looked this dank or unwelcoming before. He had met with all the faculty and wasn't terribly impressed.
James remembered his time at school vividly – mostly the pranks he, Sirius, Remus, and that other person pulled – but he didn't remember the standards being so low then. James tried to bring up these issues at every meeting, only to be told no one else was interested or that the meeting was over schedule.
Over schedule? A worthless bureaucratic reason to avoid doing hard but necessary things.
In James' time at Hogwarts, the school used former Aurors for DADA instructors and a competent, albeit rather slick and slimy, instructor for Potions. What Minerva was talking about was hiring someone like this…this former undistinguished Muggle Studies Professor to teach DADA for the next term. Ridiculous. Quirrel or something like that.
James bit his tongue as they moved through the agenda. Books were authorized for the coming term, although James voted against the list. Most of the ones James knew from experience were quite bad. New teachers were hired in three positions, although James voted against two of them.
He hadn't been raised to be a rubber stamp, although it seemed to be expected. Approve the Headmistress' requests and contribute lavishly. Complain about the little things, if you liked, but don't dare mention anything important. If today went as James expected, he would never attend one of these pointless meetings again.
The open portion of the meeting began about three hours after they'd all sat down. James raised his hand to signal he had an issue to deal with. As he was a fairly new addition to the board (some were now into their fifteenth year), he was the fourth one to introduce a concern.
Many of the board members groaned. Many people who served on the Governors had pet projects or pet peeves. Reginald Bucket insisted on buying better school brooms, but the other Governors never agreed to fund them (and Bucket never just bought some and donated them to the school). Amelia Bones, the current Head Auror, ranted about the quality of Auror and Hit Wizard applicants. Alessandria Zweibel insisted that the classical arts be returned to the curriculum as electives: painting, music, wizarding literature, and the like.
As James Potter began to speak, everyone knew what his issue was: the Defense program. What he said this time was quite a bit more strident than anything he'd said before.
"My twin sons turn eleven later this summer. However, I will not enroll them in Hogwarts unless there are some changes made during this meeting. I will also resign my seat unless I feel comfortable allowing my boys to attend…."
Here, non-Governor Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress, stood up and asked James what he meant.
"I have asked at each of the twelve meetings I've been on the Board to look into and change the Defense program, plus other woefully inadequate elements of the school. There hasn't been any true continuity in DADA instructors since old Professor Merrythought resigned long before my time. No one has listened to me during all my attempts at reform. This is the final chance I will give this school to reform itself before I wash my hands of my alma mater…."
"But Hogwarts is the greatest school of magic in Europe," Board Chairman Kendall Mackey said.
James shrugged. "It once was, perhaps. Minerva is an outstanding transfiguration instructor and her replacement is certainly good enough. Charms was well taught when Flitwick was here, but they've gone through four teachers in the last five years. Potions is no longer taught by a certified master. Defense, as you know, was last taught by a certified master in 1984. Amelia here has been squawking almost as long as I have about the poor quality of those applying for certain Ministry jobs…."
Headmistress McGonagall silenced the Governors with a rather stern look.
"Mr. Potter, what do you suggest?"
"I have been giving fifty thousand galleons per year as a donation to the school since I took my seat on the Governors. That's one hundred fifty thousand galleons total so far. I imagine that the others in this room donate generously as well. With this level of support, are you telling me we can't afford better curricula and instructors than we currently have?"
By the shocked gasps from the others in the room, no one else was donating as generously as James. But he did love his school and he did want it to be a place fit for his sons. So far, he hadn't seen any major overhauls.
"An old castle is expensive to maintain, but that's neither here nor there, James," Minerva said with a cross glare. "What do you specifically propose?"
"End the Defense program. People claim it's cursed…I don't care, I just know it doesn't work. Start up a dueling program and hire a retired dueling champion to teach it. Give the historical component of Defense (explanations of dark rituals, history related to the dark arts, and such) to a qualified history instructor. No more ghosts. Change Care of Magical Creatures to just Magical Creatures, make it mandatory and teach about vampires and werewolves alongside with unicorns and dragons. Conduct an international search for the best qualified teachers, no more regard for a Hogwarts pedigree. I don't care if the Head of Slytherin went to Beauxbatons, it doesn't matter to me. The school has the money, spend it. Hogwarts can be the best…if we want it to be and if we make it happen."
James finished his impassioned speech and looked at Minerva McGonagall. She had heard much of his line of reasoning before…but he'd never said he would withdraw his children unless the school changed…or that he'd leave the board and stop donating.
The rest of the Governors had heard it all, too, but none of them liked the threat that James had leveled. Of course his children would go to Hogwarts. Would he deny his children a quality education?
"What would you do instead?" Amelia Bones asked.
"I will continue to tutor them myself and hire tutors for the more specialized areas." He sounded entirely convinced of his strategy. The Governors would capitulate or James would take his chips and leave the game.
The Board Chairman looked around the table and asked, "Does anyone wish to second Mr. Potter's suggested curricula and staffing changes?"
James didn't look desperate. He seemed resigned to his children not attending Hogwarts. He had, after all, spent years lobbying for this reform already.
No one raised his hand.
The chairman said, "The motion fails." Left unsaid was the word, 'again.'
"Fine," James said, pulling an envelope from his cloak. "Here is my letter of resignation from the Board of Governors."
James got up and pushed past Minerva who wanted to speak with one of her favorite students from the past. She even followed him outside the doors of the meeting room.
"James, wait a moment."
"Yes, Minerva?"
"You can't be serious."
"No, I'm James Potter. Sirius Black would never take a seat on the Board…." James stopped when Minerva rolled her eyes. "As to what I just said, tell Pomona Sprout not to bother sending letters to Christopher and Harry. We've been discussing the situation here for a year. They're excited to have lessons at home, if you really want to know."
"But…."
"It was fine for me, Minerva, because I taught myself and Remus taught me and Sirius taught me. I've got together a couple of kids who'll be learning with Christopher and Harry, like a miniature Gryffindor House. I want them to know history well…and to master runes and learn warding…and to be expert duelists. I want them to be able write well…and understand politics and finance, things I didn't even dare bring up in front of the Board. These are all things they've told me they wanted. I'm just making it happen. Hogwarts wasn't willing to end unproductive traditions. I won't subject my boys to something worthless…."
Minerva bristled at the implications. "I know you've been proposing things like this for a while now…since taking your seat, actually, but can't you see the bigger picture?"
"Stop there. The only reason I took the seat and made the donations was to remake my alma mater. It isn't adequate the way it is now. I only came out of school as good in runes and transfiguration as I did because of some…err, extracurricular activities me and my friends got up to. Ten percent of what I learned came from the approved curriculum; the rest was stuff we discovered on our own or made up. That's a huge risk and a waste of time. I want my boys – and later, my girls and Sirius' children and Remus', too, if he ever gets started – to have the best possible education. Can you say that Binns is as good as you can do for inspiring students to learn our history? Or that Dolores Umbridge is even merely adequate at teaching Charms after she got sacked from the Ministry?"
Minerva started to interject.
"Don't. I've seen the figures and the names. The best potential recruits among the purebloods and halfbloods go to America nowadays – or a few to Beauxbatons or even Durmstrang. The top performers in every year at Hogwarts are the muggleborn who don't have easy access to magical places outside Britain. Albus and then you allowed the school to fall to this. Don't think I haven't realized my donations went to prop up the budget – rather than for new programs as those galleons were intended – because of sagging enrollment."
Minerva frowned but didn't argue.
"You're at the beginning of a vicious cycle. The best flee Britain for their education now. Soon it will be the next tier or two down. Then it will be just the muggleborn who don't know any better plus those who attend Hogwarts merely out of tradition. If you don't give the best students a reason to come, Hogwarts will essentially close its door in fifty years. I'd hoped to change that, but I wasted my time and galleons on rubber stampers who didn't care to listen. Be happy. You can preside over the end of a once-great institution, Minerva."
James walked calmly away not even giving his former teacher a second glance. He wasn't angry…more disappointed.
Hogwarts' grand traditions were about to strangle it to death.
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James gave the news to his sons and they smiled. They had actually accompanied their dad a few times to Hogwarts and didn't like what they'd seen.
None of the students smiled very much in the hallways.
A few Gryffindors and Slytherins traded hexes and hit another student from Hufflepuff. No one helped the bystander or even apologized. The school looked like it was filled with jerks.
And the few classes the boys had poked their heads into were dead boring. History was probably Harry's favorite subject and he'd heard Binns explain at least four things that were lies about one of the goblin rebellion. The ghost probably hadn't heard the latest hypotheses on what had happened, but wizards caused one of the wars Binns blamed on goblins.
Harry wanted to be the best duelist around. He knew he could do it, too. Or maybe a warder – or a spell crafter. There were so many things to do with magic, so many things that had never been done before.
Christopher loved his potions and his plants. He wondered if he might like to work as a Healer…or as a researcher. Someone who made up new potions could have a lot of fun, too.
Neither Harry nor Christopher imagined being a politician like their father was. What he did didn't make any sense to them at all.
James ushered them into their classroom. "This is your last chance. I could still arrange you places at Salem or Beauxbatons…."
Harry shook his head. "No, no backing out, old man. You promised us lessons and field trips. So you have to deliver."
James barked out a laugh. "We'll just see if you can stand up to the curriculum. You're both past what a second year at Hogwarts would have learned by now…but we'll be covering more fields than the typical Hogwarts students learns. Mr. and Mrs. Flamel will be by next week to see if either of you have an aptitude for alchemy. I also have my semi-retired former Charms teacher to work with you on spells and dueling once a week. It'll be good to have more than just me, Sirius, and Remus, huh? A new style to learn from…."
"Do you think Mr. Flamel would really teach me?" Christopher asked. He had a complete collection of the books Flamel had published concerning his endeavors in magic. Christopher couldn't understand everything in them yet, but he definitely wanted to.
"He wouldn't be coming at all unless he was interested in trying."
Nicholas was definitely interested in doing some tutoring on potions and alchemy, but James left out the other reason for the visit. Nicholas was searching for a better place to hide some of his most valuable possessions. Given the continuing problems with the goblins, no one left truly priceless things there any more.
James had let a few select people know about the vaults he'd carved out under the Potter Manor following his own break with Gringotts. Remus used one while Sirius had his own set under the Black Manor in London.
James had modestly claimed at the Governors' meeting to plan to arrange for 'some tutors' when in fact he'd arranged for some of the best magical theorists, historians, spell crafters, and others to help instruct his children. He planned to learn from the experience with Christopher and Harry so he could better instruct his two daughters, Melisse and Athena. Sirius now had six sprogs and didn't seem to understand the concept of moderation – or birth control. Perhaps even Remus would contribute some kids to the school population one day.
In addition, a few families had decided to club in with what they all called the Potter Experiment. The Boots were going to send Terry to the Potter Manor daily as were the Patils. Blaise Zabini had also received an invitation, but it wasn't clear if he was coming yet. His mother was pushing for him to go to Durmstrang. James had invited Frank Longbottom's son, Neville, but Frank assured James that Neville would do at least his first year at Hogwarts. It was family tradition, after all.
Christopher and Harry had a small, but close circle of friends and most of them would be coming to the Manor for their schooling.
All of the children had been educated more or less in the old ways: classical languages, heavy magical theory, some wand work starting at around age nine, literature, history and legends, mathematics, sciences, and such. They would be prepared to advance rapidly. James thought they would all take seven years to complete their schooling, but hoped they would all be through at least the first stage of their Masteries by the time they were seventeen or eighteen.
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The Daily Prophet arrived the next morning just as James sat down to breakfast. He took a sip of his coffee and opened the paper. He dropped the cup and spat out the hot liquid.
Severus Snape Escapes from Azkaban
The article said little more than that although it stretched on and on through useless comments from Ministry officials blaming anyone but themselves for this screw up. James snarled and stalked over to the fireplace.
"Sirius Black." Sirius still worked for the Ministry, even though he had more than enough money to paint seascapes and burn the canvases.
"Prongs?" A tired Sirius stared back.
"Snape escaped?"
"I'm not on the team, but he's been out for a day or so."
"How does one escape…."
Sirius seemed to shrug. "No one knows. He hasn't had any visitors in months."
"He wasn't the most vicious of the Death Eaters or the most skilled with a wand…but he was the one I feared the most."
"Why?"
"Because he hated me and Lily personally. He went out of his way at the battle of Cresswell Lake to target me."
"I remember."
"I'll have to tell everyone. Evangeline won't be happy that her family is in danger."
"You tell your wife that no oily Snivellus will get through the wards on Potter Manor."
"I hope it's true."
Whenever something went right, another two things seemed to fall apart. It was the life of a Potter. James had his sons' education arranged and now this…Snape was free. What else could go wrong?
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James kept his sons close to him that afternoon. Instead of flying – at least until James had a chance to add a few new layers of detection wards – the boys were beginning their lessons in finance. Both Christopher and Harry understood mathematics well enough, but finance was a bit more art than science.
"Sit. I promise you'll like at least part of the lesson. No, really." James was trying to win over a fairly skeptical audience.
James snagged two leather bound volumes from a table and then sat down at the table with his sons. "Here are the ledgers for the trust vaults you have downstairs. After a few lessons, we'll get into the accounts you both have at muggle banks. You're going to learn finance by using real galleons, real British pounds. You'll definitely pay attention that way."
"What?" Christopher asked, snatching the ledger from his father. "This is ours for a class on money?"
James nodded. It wasn't a lot of galleons, five thousand each, but it was enough to keep them focused.
He handed Harry his ledger.
"We have a lot to cover."
Both his sons groaned. They knew what James meant. The first five lessons would be incomprehensible until they taught themselves what it all meant. Then the next five would be even harder.
James opened a sample ledger and began explaining how it was laid out and what all the different information meant.
"The key thing is that you don't want most of your galleons sitting in this ledger. You want to move them from the bullion page to the investments page, right? You want periodic payments coming in from reasonably safe investments – for the time being. Eventually we will cover things like speculation and high risk lending. For now, I want you to cover basic lending and investing."
Christopher asked, "What's the difference between lending and investing, then?"
James smiled. "An excellent question. One I expect the answer to at our next lesson on finance."
Harry scratched away some notes while Christopher sat with a scrunched face. They both suppressed their groans at having homework.
"Also," James said, "I want you to present one idea of how you would like to lend or invest a portion of the galleons in your account. Explain the idea thoroughly and be ready to defend it in class."
That had both boys a bit more interested. Thinking about 'spending' money was more interesting than just writing essays.
James was glad to see he'd sparked their interest. He still had to tell them about Snape and his escape from Azkaban…and the danger they were temporarily in.
He'd explain the news about Snape and then let them head off to fencing practice. Christopher had been especially interested in that old form of self-defense after slowly realizing he'd never best his brother with a wand. James was happy to oblige, even if he was a rank amateur with a sword.
Fencing was extraordinary exercise and quite good for agility. He wanted to be sure his children would always be able to defend themselves. Christopher was already taking about making a mild poison to coat his blades with. James shook his head, but knew not to get in a fight with either son unless they were using randomly selected training blades.
He didn't relish the idea of being knocked unconscious because of a stray cut. His sons were vicious and efficient in a battle, whether physical or magical. It was exactly what James had trained them to be.
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James Potter was right to be wary. Severus Snape was resting within two kilometers of the Potter Manor as James discussed the situation with his oldest children.
Severus needed to rest up and heal from Dementor exposure before beginning the next phase of his plan. Ever since that guard showed him a magazine article on the fourth anniversary of Lily Potter's death – Voldemort's Last Victim – Severus had thought of nothing except for revenge.
He had loved Lily with all his heart. He had gotten both Voldemort and Dumbledore – whichever wizard was the victor – to promise Severus the death of James Potter and Lily's hand in marriage. Instead, Severus had lost both masters, both potential saviors, and spent ten years in Azkaban.
He smiled an insane grin as he contemplated what he was about to do.
He would hit the wizarding world in a place where they didn't know it would hurt. He would kill the Child of Prophecy – whichever brat it was – before bringing down the glorious house of Potter. His enemies would be ash.
The best part was the world at large didn't know about the prophecy or that it meant that Voldemort was likely still around in some form or other. Wouldn't this be a fitting type of wide spread vengeance? Kill off the savior before anyone even knew he'd be needed….
Just a few days to prepare, to heal, to mend. Then revenge. No one could stop Severus. He had nothing else to live for, just this single, last act.
A man with nothing to live for was pathetic. A man with plenty to live for was productive. A man with only one thing to live for was the most dangerous being in the world.
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Remus and Sirius were taking turns dueling with the Potter boys while James was holding a class for Melisse, Athena, and three of Sirius' similarly aged children.
Remus sweated as he batted away a stunner that little Harry shot his way. The boy had to gifted with some sort of short-range foresight. Remus was dodging as well as any werewolf could (which was a few times better than even the best human) and still Harry sent his spells to where Remus would be, not to where he had been.
It looked like Harry misaimed all his spells, but it turned out he was deadly accurate. How? How did he do it?
Likewise, how did a pre-first year have a stunner powerful enough to crack an adult wizard's shield after only one spell. Remus hadn't been on the defensive like this since he'd sprinkled fleas in Sirius Black's bed back in their seventh year at Hogwarts.
Harry sent three spells – Remus hadn't heard the incantations although he'd seen Harry's lips move – that Remus couldn't completely dodge. He let the yellow one hit him and then he began singing a song he'd never heard before. Thankfully, he only got through a few lines before Harry stunned Remus.
Remus mentally cursed James Potter before he lost consciousness; the man wanted to spend a few hours with his nieces and nephews (Sirius' kids), so Sirius and Remus had been sent to Potter Mansion.
On the other side of the room, Sirius was dueling with swords with Christopher. Sirius had done three quick rounds with spells and beaten Christopher each time. Now it was a bit more fair with swords as Sirius was terrible and Christopher was quite gifted for his age group.
Sirius didn't notice the spell from the other side of the room that washed over him. It took him a few moments to notice what had happened. Apparently Harry had decided to spice up their duel.
Sirius now had a peg leg – or at least the illusion of one – and Christopher had an eye patch and an animated parrot on one shoulder.
"Yarr!" Sirius shouted before charging the wayward young prankster. Remus just stood back and let Sirius attempt to attack Harry with his safety sword. Harry flicked his wand and the sword was transfigured into a length of neon green foam rubber.
"Yarr!" Harry shouted back.
Then Christopher joined in as Harry fled, laughing, from the room. Harry ran out a side door and bent down to pick up a stick which he transfigured into another length of foam rubber. Christopher's sword soon joined in; the three of them fought each other for quite some time before Remus wandered out and pulled Sirius away for a few minutes.
Christopher and Harry continued their mock battle for another half hour, shouting out random pirate-like slogans from time to time. When they finished, they both flopped to the ground, positively exhausted but still chuckling at the silliness.
Harry was the first to get up and begin to head back…but Christopher snagged his wrist.
"Do you hear that, Harry?"
Harry stopped moving and listened.
"It sounds like a wounded animal, Chris. I'll tell the lead grounds elf."
"No, it's hurt badly. I want to go help it."
"We can't leave the wards right now, remember?"
Christopher let his concern override what he knew to be his father's instructions. Harry leveled his wand and thought of stunning his brother, but the boy crossed the ward line while Harry dithered.
"Merlin," Harry muttered before running after his brother. He whipped off a messaging spell for Sirius to let him know a bit about this insane stunt. When Harry crossed the ward line, he couldn't hear where his brother had gotten off to.
"Christopher?"
The only thing Harry heard was more of the pained keening of some wounded animal. Harry ran toward it after assuming that was where his brother was heading.
Rash Gryffindors, Harry decided. Harry had tamed down more of his impulsive tendencies than Christopher had…so this was a painful exercise to locate and retrieve his brother.
He entered the forest proper that surrounded the Manor and followed the whimpering. He entered a small clearing and saw a wounded doe, bleeding like someone had tortured it.
A second later a spell crashed into his back and Harry fell, insensate, to the grass.
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Sirius was sitting in the lounge with Remus when he received the message from Harry. "Reckless…." He began grumbling.
"Come on, Moony. We have two little young men to beat soundly around their brains."
The pair ran to the side door and then out past the wards. Remus heard a few whimpers of a wounded animal before all sound stopped…and then he heard the crack of a multi-apparition.
"Oh, no, Sirius. A wizard out there…."
Sirius closed his eyes and calmed himself. He rested his wand on his hand and said, "Point me Christopher Potter."
The wand swiveled toward the right.
"Point me Harry Potter."
The wand didn't move. Both boys were in the same place.
Sirius whipped off a messaging spell to James. This could be very bad. Sirius had no doubt that Snape had somehow lured the boys out. Harry had gone only after Christopher left the wards, if the messaging spell were true.
This was very bad.
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Severus Snape pushed the twins deeper into the tunnel that had become his home in the last few days. He took both their wands and snapped them. One had carried a piece of colored muggle filth and it was thrown to the floor.
Snape wanted to taste their fear before he killed them both. He wanted their screams…and he wanted it drawn out. Still, he wasn't a dumb man. He suspected that he would have company in a very short period of time.
He pointed his wand at both the little Potter bastards and woke them with brief blasts from the Cruciatus. Sad to say, Snape would have liked to have held the spells longer, but he was still weak.
The one with the messier hair and eyes like Lily's looked around first. His arms and face muscles twitched a bit from his brief introduction to the pain curse. The Potter twin despaired when he realized they weren't in a forest any longer.
"Snape, is it?" the boy asked with a shaky voice.
"Half a brain isn't any use to a dead lump, is it?"
Snape kicked at the other Potter twin, the one who was still twitching on the tunnel floor. "Wake up. You need to see it all."
The other twin slowly, painfully, pushed himself upright.
The mouthy one began to say something so Severus leveled his wand at him. He barely noticed that the mouthy twin stared at his brother and then at a place behind Snape. Snape turned his head just a bit, just in time to feel a steel blade pierce through his wand shoulder.
Where had the other Potter gotten a sword? Snape had destroyed everything but that muggle item…it must have been a transfigured sword. Damn! Foolish, very foolish.
The pain hit him and Snape flopped to the ground. The mouthy twin snatched the wand from Snape's hand. He snapped Snape's wand without hesitation.
"No," Snape called out.
The mouthy twin looked furious. Snape felt the smallest twinge of fear. "I should ask how an escaped prisoner got one at all."
"I found it, you little bastard."
"So you have an accomplice of some sort. Someone who aided you in your escape. That's where I'd put my bet, you know. It is theoretically possible escape from Azkaban under one's own steam, but I had you pegged for inadvertent assistance. Seems you really had overt help, eh?"
"I got out myself," Snape said. The mouthy twin weighed the statement for a few minutes before nodding.
"Fine. A guard was sloppy or something. But the wand you had, it wasn't made by a human hand, was it? I doubt you noticed, but the goblins are on your side."
Snape did feel, and display, surprise at that revelation. Goblins? The tunnel had been empty when he'd first arrived, but then…he searched deeper. He found old, dusty crates, some food, some healing supplies, a handful of wands.
Someone had helped him. Snape was stupid to assume it had been luck.
"You didn't even know you had a benefactor, eh? Tricksy goblins are the worst. Plots within plans within riddles. They would have carved you up eventually, but too bad for you."
"Goblins, you say. Nothing's crueler than a Potter, you toad spawn."
The mouthy twin stooped to the ground and picked up some small pebbles. "Father told us about you. Your stalking of our mother during their school years; your cruel pranks which father and his friends answered with even worse ones. They were excessive, I once thought, but now I wonder if they didn't go far enough. Still, to try this stunt, you must be damaged in the brain."
The other twin tugged on the mouthy one's arm. "Harry, let's go. You can find a new twig to use. Send a messaging spell."
"Good idea, Christopher. The light isn't that far away. Go see if you can find something. This feels like the goblins have maintained wards on this tunnel. It might be blocking Sirius and the others from finding us, right?"
"You sure?"
"I'll be right behind you, brother."
The one called Christopher, the one who looked precisely like a young James Potter, the one who'd stabbed Severus through his shoulder, retreated.
Severus bled on the floor. He had taken a few days to rest and heal, but he wasn't by any definition strong. A little sword wound and he was on the ground like an infant. There were days in the past when Severus could have withstood twenty seconds of the Cruciatus without flinching externally.
"You made a mistake. You thought us defenseless. You thought us unwanded and easy prey. Let me tell you this, Severus Snape, I am never defenseless."
Harry wandlessly banished the handful of small stones in his hand into and through Snape's head. The dead Death Eater looked like the victim of a muggle-style gun.
Harry, to be fair, used shaped wooden sticks, not true wands, when dueling or practicing magic. He didn't need the little prop. He used it only to keep from exposing the depth of his magic. His family knew, even Sirius and Remus, but none of his other teachers or tutors did. No one outside the family knew.
Harry walked from the tunnel to hear Sirius shouting and, likely, hugging Christopher. Harry waved his hand behind him. A large cascading fall of stone and earth sounded. Harry had just collapsed a magically warded tunnel without a word or a spell. Pure will; the purest of all magic.
"Christopher got Snape good. The transfiguration failed because of all the goblin magic. Goblins! Then Snape flopped around so much he triggered a cave-in. I just barely got out in time. I fear that the Aurors won't be returning the man to Azkaban."
Potters knew how to tell stories to keep each other safe.
Sirius nodded. "Here's a wand for you, Harry. We'll have to get Christopher a new one."
The Aurors would demand to see Sirius and Remus' memories of this event, but they couldn't ask for the children's memories by law. The story would hold.
There was the truth – that Harry had killed his first person before he turned eleven – and then there was the Potter truth – that Snape had brought down the tunnel on himself. Potters did not leave enemies in a position to harm the family.
The only exception was the goblins. It wasn't a single goblin who desired vengeance against the Potters; it seemed to be all of them, goaded on by the worst of their wizard-hating bigots. This stunt, Harry knew, would be enough for his dad to call upon the magic of the goblin bloodstone.
The goblins had done this to themselves.
They would cease to exist within Britain in hours for their assistance to Severus Snape. Their vendetta against the Potters would cost them all their lives.
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James and Evangeline Potter grounded Christopher and Harry for the rest of the summer for the dangerous little stunt they'd pulled. James had also poured a vast sum of money into updating the wards. One thing Remus had discovered seemed especially promising…if they could make it work in a warded form.
The rest of the wizarding world debated what exactly had happened to cause the Gringotts to collapse, killing all the goblins in Britain. Most of the more knowledgeable wizards expected that goblins had brought down their own tunnels by being overzealous in digging for gold, silver, and precious stones.
Diagon Alley was temporarily closed while magical engineers surveyed the place to determine if the Gringotts damage would undermine the integrity of other shops.
These related issues meant no flying for a few weeks and triple the amount of homework. (Idle hands were dangerous hands, after all.)
The Ministry gladly announced that Severus Snape had died in a tunnel collapse. The man had evidently used some magic in an already weakened tunnel – so, in effect, he caused his own death. The Potters wholeheartedly agreed that Snape had killed himself…but rather because he had kidnapped the Potter twins than any magic he'd used in the tunnel.
Evangeline spent a lot of time with both Christopher and Harry talking about what had happened. She wasn't a Healer; she wasn't a muggle doctor; but she did have a sympathetic ear and she did pass the Potter twins test when James was dating her (unlike thirteen other 'applicants' who all failed it).
The boys hoped they'd gotten away without a yelling.
Wrong!
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The yelling from James Potter came a week after Severus Snape's failed kidnapping plot. He sat his twins down and laid into them.
"You both knew better and you still walked into danger. That man had seen you two and sat out in the forest torturing an animal to try to make you come out of the wards…. And it worked. You both know better. Christopher, you just ran off even after Harry suggested sending an elf. They can defend themselves and would have discovered it was a trap. And, Harry, you ran after him. You had a lick of sense to send off a messaging spell…but you ran after him. You should have stunned your brother, you know that, don't you? Neither of you should have gone past those wards without adults…."
The yelling went on for just over twenty minutes. Both boys had hoped the delay in punishment, save for the grounding and extra homework, meant that James would be more reasonable. Wrong!
"I love you both, but I can't stand to think of what would have happened if he's just killed you outright. You're both alive because of your attacker's stupidity, his underestimating you, and his need to gloat. There are smart enemies in the world. You have to protect yourselves better…and protect each other. Christopher, if Harry suggests something is a bad idea, listen to him. Harry, if Christopher gets nervous about something, follow his lead. Do you understand?"
Both boys nodded. "Fine, then the last part of your punishment. The stables. You have a week to clear them out…without magic. Perhaps blistered hands and sore muscles will remind you to think first, eh?"
James hugged both his boys. He had been more terrified for them than angry with them. However, he couldn't let their behavior pass unremarked upon.
The twins groaned and accepted the punishment. They had been envisioning far worse. Cleaning out the stables would take a long time, given they still had massive piles of homework to complete daily, but it wasn't as bad as…other things. One time James had assigned his little troublemakers to cleaning out the attic after they'd accidentally blown up a good portion of Lily's old Potions lab.
Cleaning out hundreds of years of dust and broken toys and moth-ridden clothing was worse than the stables. Christopher hated dark places and Harry wasn't too fond of spiders or their webs. The attic was like a lake of inky darkness tacked onto the fourth floor of the Manor – and every spider within twelve kilometers seemed to have made it home. The idea gave both boys the shivers.
"You will also be expected to help the warding team I've hired from America. They will be here a week from Thursday, just before your birthday. If you don't do a good job, the party will be off and it will just be a small family gathering. Do you both understand why I'm so angry?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"I do," Christopher said.
"Take care of each other. Be safe. Above all, be safe." The tension in the room receded. "Now, you scamps, I believe there is some fine manure that needs moved from the stables. Old clothes."
The Potters were the oldest of the pureblood families still intact, but they didn't believe in coddled little princelings. James had turned out that way, but he chalked it up to being an only child born late in life to his aging parents.
Christopher and Harry both knew physical labor, from the stables to helping with the gardens to fencing lessons to Quidditch, football, and the other sports they played on a regular basis.
The boys were out in the stables ten minutes later. It would end up taking twenty-five solid hours of work from each of them to clean the place out.
"Why do we need so many horses?" Christopher complained.
"Dad likes to ride, so do Melisse and Athena. It's just you and I who like brooms more than anything else."
"Brooms don't shit," Christopher said.
"Thank Merlin."
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Christopher and Harry remained grounded well past their birthday, but they were able to have friends over from time to time. Christopher considered Terry Boot his best friend, while Harry was more circumspect. He enjoyed playing games with the people who came over, but he took no one but his dad and his brother into his confidence.
It had been a few years since James had explained the crazy prophesy that Dumbledore had hid from all, save Voldemort's spy. Harry had something of an idea of what was coming. He came off as a bit cold in public, but it was mainly to keep the people around him safe.
One couldn't enjoy life in public and still be watchful at the same time. They didn't mesh well together.
However, it was the day when the warding team came over that Harry knew what his destiny was. He'd become a superb duelist, but it was warding he really wanted to master.
Instead of his usual reticent self, among non-family members, Harry was absolutely chatty with the seven wizard team. Each of them answered at least a dozen questions from the kids who were supposed to be their helpers.
James watched the scene and couldn't suppress the smile. He was sure that Harry would do a few trips on the dueling circuit, but he needed something else to fall in love with. Harry wasn't a natural politician; Christopher would fill that mold much better with his love of people and healing and such. But Harry had powerful magic and an even more powerful mind.
James wondered if Harry would stick with warding as a profession. He had the raw power to be the very best in the business. A team lead by an experienced Harry Potter wouldn't need seven wizards; it would be just Harry and one or two assistants.
James watched the star struck Harry cozy up to the warders while Christopher looked put upon having to lug around ward stones and fetch drinks and stuff. James stood near the lead warder and asked a few questions of his own.
"Did you thoroughly test out the experimental schematic that Remus and I sent you?"
Corbin Eaglewisp was from a long line to wizards, all of whom specialized in warding. People wondered why they couldn't find the famed City of Gold…well, an Eaglewisp was responsible many generations earlier for hiding it.
He and his family had made a business out of warding. The filthy goblins had kept a virtual monopoly in Britain and a few other places so this was among the first jobs Corbin had ever done here. Good thing the goblins had imploded themselves.
"Yes, Mr. Potter," the master warder said. "It's an interesting schema, stable. I wasn't quite sure what it was intended to do? It has something to do with detecting…and restraining dark arts practitioners if my guess is right."
"You're very close. It's actually a bit more specific than just a dark arts practitioner, but the exact details we'll keep secret. We have problems with blood purist terrorists over here. I'm rather infamous for my anti-pureblood sentiments so I'm a bit of a target. Two of my children, the messy haired ones over there, were kidnapped earlier this summer briefly by one such terrorist…."
"I understand," the warder said. "The green eyed boy seems rather fascinated, doesn't he?"
"He'll be a formidable duelist, but I think he's already sizing up warding as a mainstay profession. He's got the mind and the magic for it…all it would take is the will."
"I haven't worked on wards this old in some time. Would you like us to recharge some of the weaker ones?"
"I didn't know anything wasn't at full strength," James Potter said with a touch of concern.
"Yes, there are fifteen different schema at work so far, before you count the new ones we're laying down today. Three of them are rather weak."
"What do they do?"
"One forms a physical barrier to prevent those not keyed in from entering. That is traditionally the front line defense of a warding structure. Another is the notification ward to tell the wardholder about things happening to the wards. The third is the primary offensive ward: it stuns any who attempt to attack the wards or weaken them."
James blanched. Those three were the most powerful and ancient aspects of the wards.
"How did those three weaken so much more than any of the others?"
Corbin pointed James toward one of the rune stones his team was unearthing. "Someone has tampered with the main stones. Fairly recent, maybe within ten or fifteen years. It looks like someone not keyed into the wards as well, a very powerful magic user."
Dumbledore was the only candidate on James' mind. Even after the man had been insane for a decade he was still causing havoc.
"Any idea why the wards didn't tell me they were weak?"
"If someone had drained the energy with a device or a spell, they would have. However, someone attacked the rune stone and laid a very mild draining spell on it. The energy dumped into the earth rather than bracing up the ward. And there was a slightly faded Notice-Me-Not charm to keep anyone from investigating too closely."
Definitely Dumbledore. It was perhaps another way Dumbledore used to ensure that James, Lily, and the twins would go under his ridiculous Fidelius Charm. Failing wards on the Manor would drive a person to another solution; too bad no one noticed for ten years.
"Excellent catch. You'll be earning a hefty bonus just for that."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter."
James watched the rest of the proceedings with concern. He wanted to know what else Dumbledore might have ruined with his wards.
He also wanted to see if the new ward configuration was going to work.
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Classes started for the Potter Experiment on August 21. Christopher, Harry, Terry Boot, and Parvati and Padma Patil made up the roster. Blaise Zabini had gone to Durmstang. James had declined Amelia's request to let Susan Bones try out the program. After all Amelia, Susan's aunt and guardian, hadn't even bothered supporting James' proposal in front of the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
A few other families heard of the program, but James looked into how they'd prepared for school – and it wasn't adequate. The Potter Experiment was designed, for now, to produce exceptional witches and wizards by adhering to the true old fashioned Potter Family methods. James had made minor tweaks here and there…and had added a few new subjects since students were last taught their formal educations this way. (Potters hadn't begun attending Hogwarts until the mid-1500s. Prior to that, they were all 'home schooled.')
The five students had walked down the stairs or floo'd into the Potter Manor at seven thirty for breakfast. Students were required to eat two meals a day together. Now they awaited their first tutor.
The Potter Method called for using a major topic and quite a few minor topics each week. The major topic received a three hour block of time each school day for a week and then became a minor topic for the next several weeks while another class rotated into the major topic role. In ages past, the Potters had drawn upon family retainers and distant relatives to assist in the education of their young. James Potter hired the best possible people he could find in Britain and beyond to lead major topics on one week contracts.
He walked into the room with Ethelberta Basbush at his side. She was nearing ninety, but was still sharp as a tack.
"Morning class. Madam Basbush will begin the term by taking you through some of the theoretical and practical elements of herbology."
"Good morning," the aged witch said. Her tired charges piped back a response, although it wasn't very loud.
"We'll be exploring thirty non-magical and magical plants over the next week. How to identify them, how to care for them, how to use them in various potions and other preparations. There will be no essays due in this major class, but you will have an examination on this material on Friday afternoon."
James stood in the back for the rest of the short lecture and then accompanied the class out to the Potter Greenhouses. James watched as the class covered ginger root, belladonna, and sparklewart. Madam Busbush even instructed her class in how to make a quick compound from the three plants they'd just studied: it was a rub that relieved the pain of sore muscles.
This is what James had wanted: not just the study of plants in isolation, but their relationship to other forms of magic, like potions. Tomorrow Madam Busbush intended to show off a few magical creatures that dined exclusively on particular magical plants.
James took the class when it was time for their physical activity hour before lunch. All five of his students were treated to ten laps of a rather challenging broom racing course. James had decided to mix the strenuous activities he planned with the more purely enjoyable. He figured it would earn him more smiles and more willing participants.
After lunch the students had four one-hour blocks of minor subjects every day. The schedule was always on the wall, but each week James, Evangeline (a Hogwarts Head Girl three years after Lily Evans had held the position), Remus, Sirius, Suresh Patil, or Chrysanthemum Boot would take a minor subject two times to ensure forward progress.
The list was daunting: English and writing skills; foreign language (first years completed their study of the classical languages), wanded magics (a combination of charms, offensive magics, defensive magics, and transfiguration), runes, arithmancy and other mathematical systems, magical creatures, science (first years studied mostly astronomy), dueling practice, history, potions and herbology (which was already covered for this week with the major topic), and finance and politics.
The first day ended well. James was exhausted as was Remus, that day's teacher for history and English. The children had had their brains stretched out like it was pizza dough. So far the experiment was working.
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September 2, 1991 would go down in the record books as a very odd day.
First, it was the day when sixth year students at Hogwarts discovered that their DADA instructor wasn't inside the castle.
Second, it was the day when an odd, weak wizard named Quirrel apparated to the boundary of the Potter Manor and found himself stuck in the wards. Slowly over the first five minutes, the weak wizard with a strong voice in his head tried to unravel the wards and bindings that had fallen upon him. He remained stuck for quite some time.
Third, it was the first and only time the Potter Experiment was called off for a day and the majority of the pupils sent back to their houses.
Fourth, and not very well recognized, it was the day Voldemort truly perished.
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James leapt from his bed in shock when he felt the warning enter his mind from the wards. Intruder detected and restrained. Then he felt a second, unfamiliar warning.
He had slept in while his sons were off to class. He didn't need to be up and moving until eleven…particularly not after the way Evangeline had literally attacked him last night.
He threw on pants and a robe. He ran down the stairs, several levels of stairs, before he flew out of the main door. There…there in the distance was the immobilized intruder. Somehow this…person had triggered two of the wards: the intruder ward and the one that Remus Lupin had created.
James ran toward the figure and saw the man struggling in the wards.
He recognized the face from a file he'd read…one of the Hogwarts teachers, Quirrel, one that James had voted against, a buffoon for a DADA posting.
"How nice of you to visit," James said, before stunning the struggling man. The power of the wards held him upright even as James turned around to cancel the day's classes. He needed the Potter Manor to be free of outside eyes for this. He also needed Sirius and Remus to assist.
Maybe some Knock-Out Potion to keep his little troublemakers from interfering. This looked like serious business.
James stalked inside the Manor and poked his nose inside the classroom on the first floor. "Excuse me, Mr. Moody, but we have a security situation. I'm going to need to escort Mr. Boot and the Patils to the Floo. I will call each of your parents later tonight to discuss what has happened. Mr. Moody, would you please keep an eye on Christopher and Harry?"
The slightly shaken Terry, Parvati, and Padma went to James without question and walked toward the main hall fireplace. Within a minute all three were home and safe. Another minute later and Sirius and Remus were both at the Potter Manor.
Alastor Moody, the hired instructor for the week's major section on dueling, thumped into the room with a pair of troublemakers behind him. "You going to fill in the holes in your earlier statement, James?"
James just pointed to the large window next to the front door. The man tangled up in the wards should be visible from there.
"Someone foolish to try to penetrate recently repaired and strengthened wards…ancient wards at that. Who is the fool?"
Alastor didn't know the secret of what had happened that Halloween night. James wasn't about to spill now. The half truth of Quirrel and his likely companion was good enough.
"He's a Hogwarts teacher. Probably trying some last minute ploy to get my children to attend. Still, I stunned him and planned to save the interrogation until after I got the students out of here. I wonder if I should clear out the rest of the Manor, my wife and all my children?"
"I'm staying," Harry said.
James wanted to scowl but didn't. Children shouldn't have to know the full range of unpleasant truths until the very last possible moment.
"Me, too, then," Christopher piped in.
"Alastor, would you accompany Evangeline and the girls to our home in the Orkneys?"
"Be glad to, James, unless you need another wand here…." Alastor loved the idea of a home invasion attempt. Wizarding law said the guilty party was completely at the mercy of the family they'd tried to breach.
Five minutes later, his nervous wife and curious daughters were out of the Manor. Alastor had to be convinced to really get in the Floo and accompany them. He really wanted to stay behind to…help.
Sirius looked doubtful at Christopher and Harry remaining behind. "Are you sure about this, James? I don't think…."
"I need to be here, Padfoot," Harry said. "Christopher needs to be here, too. Dad's face when he came into the classroom told me exactly what he thought he found. I will see it through to the end."
James wondered if Harry might have it in him to be the best kind of politician…after he tried his hand at dueling, warding, and any other fields of interest.
James led the subdued procession down to the ward line.
"Did a wizard let Voldemort possess him," Remus wondered aloud. He was examining the ward he'd created from a hypothesis and a good understanding of runes. "Did he really condemn himself to death when the spirit left him? It wouldn't have been anything to host a spirit for an hour or five, but for days, for long enough to become symbiotic? It was suicide."
James nodded. It was always suicide to attack the Potters.
The small group gathered around the stunned and immobilized Quirrel. James sent a quick spell to allow the man's head to function.
Remus continued to cast a multitude of detection charms. Finally he grimaced and stopped. He had the confirmation he needed.
Quirrel slowly brought his turban-covered head up and snarled. "Just the ones I wanted to see."
He paused. His body, still immobile, almost seemed to jerk to life…but nothing happened. "What is this magic?"
"We created it for you," a precocious Harry Potter said. He hadn't been in on the planning and research for this ward…but he had watched the warding team lay it into place. Could an eleven-year-old already understand its purpose?
"Harry is right. Albus told us, unwillingly, about the prophecy years ago. He manipulated you into attacking and starting the prophecy. We've had evidence for years that you weren't dead; even found one of your trinkets…."
Quirrel's hate-filled eyes went blank and a swirl of black smoke erupted from the back of the man's head.
"Voldemort," Sirius whispered, rather in awe.
The Voldemort-smoke couldn't make it through the wards. Something in the wards was meant specifically to bind spirits.
"We've been experimenting with different ideas, you see," James said. "I think we have just the thing."
Sirius, Remus, and James leveled their wands at the smoke and began chanting in a Celtic dialect. Remus had discovered the demi-ritual in a historical book on Celtic rituals: it was meant for cleaning the site of a massacre from the lingering sadness and spiritual hatred. The book reported it had been used to banish vicious poltergeists as well.
The whitish light of the wards surrounding the black smoke became unbearably bright. The smoke began to…vanish as the white light surrounding it overpowered what was left of Voldemort's soul.
A few minutes later the threat of Voldemort was gone.
His horcruxes hadn't saved from death this time. They worked against general forms of death, but not ones meant to exorcise restless spirits, not ones designed to destroy spiritual wraiths.
Even ghosts could die.
The gathered looked at Quirrel's lifeless body. It only took James a few minutes to concoct an explanation. One of Voldemort's supporters, an unmarked follower, took a position at Hogwarts when the Potter twins were expected to start in order to kidnap them…to get a more detailed explanation of what happened to his master so many years ago. He didn't count on vastly strengthened wards or his own actions causing the wards to react violently.
The Aurors came and left within two hours. James provided a pensieve memory – slightly modified to eliminate the black Voldemort myst – of what had happened. The man died in the wards without anyone else nearby.
Quirrel would go down as a weak wizard overall. Not even strong enough to pass through wards without suffering a heart attack.
Sometimes, most of the truth was safer than the whole truth.
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A/N: That concludes what I had sketched out for this storyline. It was surprisingly fun to write. Hope you enjoyed James Potter. I haven't seen enough stories with him being a good, decent person.