AUTHOR'S NOTES: Firstly, I want to thank each and every one of my loyal readers for the 38 reviews accumulated. I know, usually celebrations occur at 50 or 100, but this story has beaten my previous review record holding story 'Inside Out' which—I'll confess—sucks. But it was a first real attempt at multi-chapter writing, so…
But to all the people who have read and reviewed this story THANK YOU!!!! I'd give you all a hug if I could.
Also, this chapter introduces a new character, the new DADA teacher, Willow Gosermer inspired by…… reviewer Ms. Willow Gosermer!
BTW… I need a title for this story. Suggestions are welcome
Read, review, and show your love!
Chapter 12 Untitled
"How come you aren't coming with us to King's Cross, Dad?" Rae asked at breakfast the morning of September 1st.
Blake had his bag slung over one shoulder and a worn look was on his face. "Because I get to see the department psychologist instead."
"What?" Kate said, baffled.
"What for?" Harry asked as he poured himself a glass of orange juice.
Blake sighed. "Oh, we… brought in this guy day before yesterday. He'd been beating his kids to death." Harry looked away as Blake added, "I… kinda beat him up pretty badly." Seeing Harry's face, Blake said, "Harry, it's not because of you."
"He's right, honey," Kate said, as Harry wheeled up to the kitchen table. "Blake has always been a bit… overly aggressive when it comes to kids being hurt."
"Why?" Harry asked, curious.
"My father was a real hard-ass," Blake said. "Never beat me, but… he believed in hard love. Almost choked my best friend's dad one night because the kid was being beaten. Dad told me that protecting those who can't protect themselves is one of the noblest things a man can do."
Kate looked up at the clock on the wall. "Okay, enough chit-chat. Eat and let's go or you'll miss the train."
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While Rae and Harry headed off to Hogwarts, Blake was sitting in the office of Greg Alden, the police department psychologist. "I'm fine, Doc," Blake said. "I just… got carried away."
Alden shrugged. "The department thinks you're too ramped up because of what happened to your adopted son."
"Harry has nothing to do with my behavior," Blake protested. "I don't like parents who show their power by beating their kids."
"Well, you need to tone it down, Thorton," Alden said, warningly.
"I will," Blake promised. "And… I guess having Harry as my first case wasn't the best thing in the world."
"How is Harry?"
Blake gave a shrug. "Still in the wheelchair. He was doing better, but he… he hurt his back again and… Look, my son's crippled for life, okay?" Blake snapped. "Harry's fuckin' uncle put him in a wheelchair!"
"Thorton, I'm giving you a pass for now," Alden said, making a note in Blake's file. "You're a good man and a good inspector. But when your children come home for the winter holidays, I think you should take some time off. Be with your family. Understood?"
"Yeah," Blake said as he left the office and headed back to work.
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Snape had a limited amount of time to go over the finer details of the plan with Crouch and Lucius Malfoy. They met in the Shrieking Shack and crowded around a table.
"Dumbledore has grown slow," Snape said, a half-smile, half-sneer on his face. "He did not realize that we were crippling Potter or that Poppy Pomfrey was the one doing the dirty work."
"Handy little curse, wasn't it?" Crouch said with the usual insane glint in his eye. "One simple spell and you can make even the smartest wizard lose his mind."
"Ingenious," Lucius said, admiringly.
"Indeed," Snape agreed. "Will it wear off?"
"It'll lose its power in a few months," Crouch admitted. "But by then the damage will be done."
"Who will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Lucius asked.
Snape's sneer gave way to an honest smile. "Willow Gosermer."
Lucius and Crouch exchanged looks. They knew that Snape had known her years ago and still liked her. But would this be the one crack in a flawless plan?
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It had been 10 years since Willow Gosermer had seen Hogwarts but as she stood before the massive oak doors she felt as nervous as a first year. An understandable feeling as she would be teaching the following morning.
Willow had no idea how Dumbledore had managed to track her down, but now that she was here, she decided to go through with it. Opening the doors, she headed inside. Her trunk and supplies had already been sent to her room and therefore, she decided to go upstairs to inspect her classroom before going to the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast.
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Down in the dungeons, Snape paced frantically. He was furious that Dumbledore had hired Willow but he was even angrier at himself for letting his affections show to Lucius and Crouch.
But there was something needling in the back of his brain… some small, seemingly insignificant detail that was overlooked or ignored…
Shrugging it off, Snape turned to his private lab that was tuned to his specific magical signature—not even Voldemort himself could enter the room, even using Poly-Juice Potion.
Going to a shelf of five vials, Snape studied the potions, each brewed perfectly to the specifications written in The Phoenix Compendium.
Snape smiled as he left the room. Dumbledore would never find the room, nor the potions needed to fix Harry.
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Sitting at the staff table at dinner that evening, Willow kept sneaking looks at Snape. What the hell was Snape doing teaching?
Leaning over so as to speak to Dumbledore, she said, softly, "Don't you know Snape's one of You-Know-Who's top Death Eaters?"
"I trust him, Miss Gosermer," Dumbledore said, quietly.
"And you trusted the Dursleys, too," Willow countered, going back to her own meal.
Dumbledore considered this. Lucius Malfoy would need help with the Poly-Juice Potion and Snape was an expert at brewing it… 'Maybe,' Dumbledore thought. 'I should re-evaluate my faith in Severus Snape.'
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After dinner, Harry headed up to Gryffindor Tower with the rest of his classmates and found that his suite from last year was ready for him and Dobby was waiting in the small sitting room.
"Dobby is happy to help Harry Potter again, sir," Dobby said as Harry rolled over to the bed before sliding out of his robes and lifting himself onto the bed.
"Thanks, Dobby," Harry replied as the house-elf hung the robes up along with Harry's sweater and tie which the teenager had tossed onto the seat of the wheelchair.
Once ready for bed, Harry slid back into the wheelchair while Dobby turned down the bed. "Can Dobby get Harry Potter anything?"
"No, I'm alright, Dobby," Harry replied as he slid under the blankets. "Good night."
"Good night, Harry Potter," Dobby said, extinguishing the lights.
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