Changing of the Winds

Disclaimer: This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: I would like to remind everyone that this is AU after Book Five. Dumbledore is not fatally injured by Slytherin's Ring, nor is Draco Malfoy tasked with killing Dumbledore.

Also, a couple of things have been brought to my attention from the reviews that I would like to address here:

1. I did correct the error in chapter 3: Elëassa's elements are water and air, not water and earth, as I'd mistakenly written.

2. It is not fact that a witch or wizard could lose their magic if they have wronged an elemental, just a persistent rumor. Minerva's reaction was less about losing her magic—remember, she actually offered it up in recompense—and more about doing the right thing by Harry.


Ch. 12 Battling Fear

Severus stood stiffly on the moving staircase as it rose to the headmaster's office. When he reached the top, the door opened and he strode in to find the lights low, with a cheery, small fire in the hearth. Minerva sat before it with Dumbledore by her side.

After one glance, the headmaster leaped up and solicitously drew Severus over to a third commodious armchair. Severus impatiently threw off his employer's hand with a scowl, but sank gratefully into the chair and poured himself a cup of tea from the service that appeared on the table at his elbow.

With a gentle reproach in his blue eyes, Dumbledore asked, "Severus, how did our adversary take the news of Harry's return?"

Severus sipped the tea and tried to will his hands to stop shaking. Giving it up as a bad job, he replied, "Not very well, I regret to say. It seems he thought the boy had run away in fear after the Department of Mysteries debacle. He had ascribed the collapse of their link as a sign that the boy, if he was still even alive, was cowering in fear somewhere far away. The reality that not only was the boy back, stronger and more knowledgeable than before, but also has returned with an elemental in tow, has been quite a shock. It has put paid to the Dark Lord's plans to use this time to secure his powerbase in the Ministry and caused a rearrangement of several tactical moves on which he'd been working. He wants to get rid of Potter and has made the boy his top priority. He plans on attacking the very first Hogsmeade weekend on which I can assure him the boy is going."

"I see," Dumbledore responded heavily, his eyes moving towards Severus' hands. "Thank you, Severus. Why don't you try to salvage the rest of the night and get some rest? I see that you have suffered somewhat from Tom's misplaced anger?"

"A bit, Headmaster. It was not too severe, as he set immediately to planning the boy's demise. I have a potion in my chambers that I devised for the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse." The dark man inclined his head briefly. "Good night, sir, Minerva."

Severus put his cup down, and had stood up before he'd realized that the woman hadn't made a sound during their admittedly brief conversation. He looked to see her staring at the hearth, her eyes haunted, her lips pinched tightly, and her face colorless.

"Minerva?" He said again, tentatively, his eyes meeting those of Dumbledore's. He would rather drink a Longbottom potion before he'd admit it, but he found Minerva McGonagall's brisk, undemonstrative mien one of the foundations of his existence at Hogwarts. Their longstanding rivalry, and their sarcastic quips at the expense of the other was more out of an acerbic camaraderie than any rancorous House competition. Seeing the normally unflappable Scottish woman so distraught was decidedly unsettling for her younger colleague.

Dumbeldore responded softly, "She'd been here for more than an hour before you arrived, and she hasn't uttered a word yet. I was just thinking that perhaps I should call Poppy—"

Stirring herself, the woman muttered, "Ach, no need for that…. I-I just needed a—a bit of company before I retired for the night. Oh, and to return this." She took a tiny item from her robes, tapped it with her wand, and placed the newly-unshrinked Pensieve on Dumbledore's desk.

Her old friend and mentor asked, "Minerva, would you be kind enough to tell me what you saw in Harry's memories?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Albus," she replied a little more brusquely as she stood and shook out her robes. "If he wanted you to know, I'm sure he would ask you to view them himself. As it is, I have no doubt that you know the gist of it." She didn't glare at him, a fact that was quite impressive to Severus, who could tell she was angry and perplexed. Instead, she refused to meet Dumbledore's eyes, almost as if she thought he might legilimize her.

"Please understand, Minerva dear, that I was totally unaware of any overtly harmful behavior on the Dursleys' part until this summer when Severus and I went to check up on Harry." Dumbledore said, almost pleading with his friend. Severus admired the adroit way in which the old man sidestepped several important details. It was the end of the summer, long after the double agent had discovered the boy had gone missing, that the headmaster had gone to Potter's home, and that was only to perform the locator ritual.

"We both have a lot for which we should be held accountable, Albus. I have admitted my mistakes, and am prepared to do whatever is required to change my reactions when it comes to Harry Potter. It's a pity you are not yet prepared to do the same," she said dismissively as she moved towards the door.

Yawning slightly, Severus followed saying, "I'll accompany you, Minerva. Good night, again, Headmaster."

"Good night, Severus. Good night, Minerva," came the still voice from the figure highlighted by the golden flames of the fireplace.

"Albus." Minverva nodded slightly.

As they rode the descending staircase in silence, Severus was surprised at how shocked Minerva seemed to be at the treatment the boy had received at the hands of his relatives. It's amazing how oblivious Gryffindors can be, he sneered. Or was the boy that good at hiding the abuse? He would have to be a remarkably good actor, or perhaps….

Severus thought he'd viewed a relevant scene in the boy's memories during Occlumency lessons. What was it? Ah, that was it, a vague glimpse of the Sorting Hat muttering something about the boy doing well in Slytherin. At the time, Severus had dismissed it, being furious at the waste of his time and the lack of application the boy had shown for the lessons. The man had never thought about the memory again.

Was it possible that the Hat had been going to put the Potter spawn in Slytherin? Severus shuddered at how much more horrible the last few years could have been, with the Boy Who Lived in his house. Or—a guilty wave coursed over the potions master's body—perhaps he would have learned much earlier how mistaken he'd been about Lily's child? Perhaps he could have provided guidance that accommodated all facets of the brat's personality, not just the bold, brash, Gryffindor part?

Intrigued with the direction in which his thoughts were turning, he barely heard his companion attempts to engage him. "I'm sorry, Minerva, I'm not at my best right now. What did you say?" he asked.

"I thought I'd warn you that Harry and his mother are holding a press conference tomorrow right after morning classes. I believe she wants to lay some of the more ridiculous rumors to rest, and ask for the press to allow them a bit of privacy." Minerva's color was returning, though her expression was still rather disturbed.

He snorted, "Fat chance of that! Is the woman that naïve?"

Minerva looked up, and Severus was gratified to see a little amusement in her eyes. Tamping down that emotion, he told himself that it was simply because he hated to spar with an already defeated opponent. She continued, "Actually, Lady Elëassa is quite savvy about human nature, much more than Harry is right now. I believe that she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

"Albus has asked for several professors to be in attendance. You might consider being one of them. I don't think you would want to miss this."

He pondered this information. In his guise as the Dark Lord's spy, he should attend, but he knew that wasn't the whole reason. Lady Elëassa was the first elemental he had ever met, and she was firmly aligned with the Boy Who Lived. This was a puzzle that intrigued him, and he wanted to learn as much as he could about her and the new-and-improved Harry Potter.


The sight that greeted Severus the next day was impressive. Even though the elemental had only come to Scotland three days before, she had learned pretty quickly how to get things done. He was standing on a small stage that Aberforth Dumbledore had erected across the road from the Hogs Head, along with Minerva, Albus Dumbledore, several Aurors, Harry Potter, and the elemental woman herself. They faced out on a square filled with reporters from all of the wizarding papers and magazines, as well as a microphone positioned by the Wizarding Wireless Network. The day was bright and clear, and while milling restlessly, the crowd of news representatives seemed to sense that this conference was going to be significant.

Precisely at noon, Dumbledore made to move forward, but was stopped by Elëassa's voice. "Headmaster, I called this press conference. There is no need for you to take the microphone, is there?" She inquired mildly.

Taken aback, Dumbledore glanced at her sharply, but responded in the same tone of voice. "I was simply going to get everything started by introducing you, Lady Elëassa."

"Ah, that's quite kind of you, sir, but I think that I can handle introducing myself," she smiled, her amused reply acknowledging his attempt to take charge of the press conference. Potter glanced from one to the other, a small smile on his face as he watched the interchange. Severus was again struck at how much the boy had matured over the course of three months.

"The wizarding press here in Britain can be quite ruthless, Madame. I merely sought to set the tone so that they wouldn't—"

"Thank you, Headmaster, but I'm on it," she retorted tartly, one eyebrow raised. "I have read how well you handled them last year when you were painted a madman and my son an attention-starved liar." With that reminder of Dumbledore's failure to protect Potter from the press, she smiled tightly. As she stepped forward, Dumbledore, unnerved, moved back silently.

Immediately, shouts broke out as the reporters called out their questions, the mass of bodies surging forward toward the dais. Elëassa simply stood quietly, gazing patiently out at the crowd. After several minutes, when the reporters realized she was waiting, they quieted down, though there were some angry mutters scattered about the square.

"Thank you all for coming," Elëassa began. While there was no artificial amplification, her voice sounded as if she were standing next to each person present. "I am Elëassa lur-Durondel, and I am the adoptive mother of Harry Potter. You have many questions, and we are here to answer some of them. This is what I have planned so that we can get through this conference as efficiently as possible. Harry James has to have—"

"Is it true that you lured him from his relatives' home with promises of arcane, dark magical training?" shouted a rotund man from the front of the crowd.

Elëassa, surprised by the interruption, paused a moment then asked quietly, "Your name, sir?"

"Calumnus Crawmount of the Weekly Wizarding World News," he answered, puffing out his chest proudly.

"One more outburst like that from you, Mr. Crawmount, and you will be ejected from this conference," she responded, even more quietly. "Now as I began to say, we only have an hour as Harry James has to have lunch before he returns to his classes. The procedure will be this: He will read a statement, then we will answer questions. You will each have two questions. If they are inflammatory, insulting, or just plain stupid, we will refuse to answer. Have I made myself clear?"

More muttering flowed over the throng, but no one expressed dissension aloud.

"Oh, one other thing." Elëssa smiled engagingly, which alerted Severus to pay particular attention to what she was about to say. "My son has suffered at your hands in the past. Some of you thought it was ethical and fair to print untruths, rumors, and outright lies about him. If you stay for this conference, it is with the understanding that your organization will only print, or broadcast—this said to Glenda Chittock, the WWN reporter—only the truth about Harry and me. Are we agreed?"

After a shocked silence, the reporters either nodded or murmured their agreement. Elëassa waited until they had all done so, though Severus couldn't see how she could possibly know when that had taken place. When the last person had agreed, she smiled brightly, and Severus smirked. She had manipulated them brilliantly! While the crafty reporters may have thought they were just uttering words that they could hold themselves to or not, they had actually entered into a magically binding agreement with an elemental.

Severus had found more information on elementals in the Dark Lord's personal library. He knew that while the media representatives thought they hadn't said anything remotely legalistic, they would find their organizations unable to publish conjecture, rumors, or lies about the Boy Who Lived or his elemental mother. Since this was an elemental concord, it would encompass not just today's conference, they would never be able to do so.

His smile fading, Severus watched, eyes narrowed, as Potter came forward, taking a short length of parchment out of his robes. The boy was moving with a grace hitherto only shown on his broom. The silken robes swirled around his legs, accentuating his lithe form and sinuous walk. Pointing his wand at his throat, he murmured, "Sonorus." When he began to speak, his magnified voice was calm and sure.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter. I am here to tell you a bit about my last few months." He continued the speech carefully prepared by Elëassa, Dumbledore, and Severus. "After an incident in which I and several of my friends were lured to the Department of Mysteries by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the subsequent battle between his Death Eaters and us, it was determined that I was physically and emotionally exhausted. My muggle relatives felt they were not up to the task of caring for me, understanding so little of the pressures of the wizarding world.

"The Lady Elëassa, who had taken an interest in me over the past few years, volunteered to let me live with her family while I recovered. As we grew closer, they realized that they wanted to make me a part of their family. I was ecstatic, because I felt that they understood and could support me, something that I didn't have with my relatives. I was adopted in July. My return to Hogwarts was delayed slightly when I decided that I wanted to go through the full adoption rite with my mother's clan, because I needed to undergo more training.

"I would like to conclude by saying that I am not an elemental, nor am I giving up my place in the wizarding world. The clan of Durondel is my family, and they appreciate my desire and encouraged my decision to return to Hogwarts.

"Thank you for your time and attention."

Elëassa took his place as he stepped back from the podium. "We didn't want you to waste your valuable two questions asking about elementals, so I prepared a little fact sheet." At her nod, dozens of flyers appeared, one before each person present.

"It basically says that we are able to communicate telepathically with each other regardless of distance, we have protective powers that far surpass those of the wizarding world, and that we have strong affinities with the powers of the elements, hence our name. There are a number of communities of elementals spread throughout Asia, the Americas, Australia, and Africa, although I am the first to be in Great Britain in over a millennium. There is much more detail, which you can read later at your convenience.

"Now we will open the floor to questions. Remember that you only get two—and one of you," she lifted her eyes mildly towards Calumnus Crawmount, "has already wasted one. Yes?"

She nodded at someone in the front row. Severus saw Potter's face fall as the falsely-sweet, knowing voice of Rita Skeeter stole through the air of the plaza. "We are all so very happy to have Mr. Potter back with us again. Could you tell us why the Ministry of Magic was unable to tell us where he was?"

Though he was sure no one else could tell, Severus saw Dumbledore and Harry tense. Elëassa, however, handled the question adroitly. "I have no idea what the Ministry of Magic knew, and if they knew where Harry James was, I really do not know or care what they deigned to inform the media, Madam…?" She looked inquiringly at the woman.

"Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet." She smiled, baring white, sharp teeth. "How is it possible that the Boy Who Lived could be gone for three months and the Ministry not know?"

A cold wind swept into the square, and eyes looked up as the sun was instantly cloaked by thick clouds. "Ah, Miss Skeeter, I am familiar with your work. You are probably more knowledgeable of the operations of the British Ministry of Magic than I. I cannot begin to tell you why it would keep track of the movements of a schoolboy, and I certainly cannot tell how it gets its information, or to whom it would normally be disseminated. Those, madam, are your two questions." Elëassa raised her voice. "I would suggest everyone ask questions that either I or Harry James can answer, and not waste them on matters that can only be answered by Ministry officials. Next person? You, sir, your name?"

While the conversation moved on, Severus diverted his scrutiny from the frustrated expression of Rita Skeeter, to the deft way in which the elemental, and at times, Potter, handled the questions of the reporters.

When queried why his relatives would allow someone else to adopt him, the teen replied, with an engaging smile, "My relatives took me in as a baby to keep me safe from possible retribution. They have never been comfortable with magic nor the amount of upheaval that seemed to always surround me. We are still in contact, but they recognized that my adoptive mom was better equipped to keep me safe and healthy."

"Healthy, Mr. Potter?" Another reporter queried, "Was there some concern about your mental or physical health?" Again, Severus noted Dumbledore slightly open his mouth, as if to take over answering the question, but Potter continued, swiftly, "Yes, sir, after a year in which I was labeled a misguided, lying boy desperate for attention by many of you, which culminated with a battle with Death Eaters, of course there were concerns about my health. I wouldn't have been normal if there weren't. I will not repeat the information I'd gone over in my prepared statement, but obviously I am much better, as you can well see. Next question?"

After about another half-hour, Elëassa neatly closed the session with, "I thank you all for coming, and remind you of your vow." That last word provoked a number of mutters, but everyone began to file out quickly, attempting to get their reports back without delay.

Elëassa turned to everyone on the dais, thanked the professors and Aurors for their support, moved over to Potter, and took the arm he offered. The two immediately moved toward the steps, and as they passed the potions professor, she glanced fleetingly in his direction, and said meaningfully, "Professor Snape, do whatever you need to protect yourself and your disguise. I assure you that you cannot hurt either Harry James or me." They descended to the path that wound from the village to Hogwarts, and Severus, wondering, followed with the headmaster and other professors.

Was the elemental aware of the Dark Lord's plan? And if so, what had she planned herself? He groaned mentally, steeling himself for the encounter she seemed sure was going to happen. He knew the Dark Lord had already made contingency plans, but that was for a Hogsmeade weekend.

Yet, he paused to ponder, this was actually the better opportunity. There were no other children about, particularly those of the Death Eaters themselves, so there would be no limit to the amount of carnage the Dark Lord's forces could wreak.

As he strode swiftly after Potter and his mother, Severus thought frantically, his stoic face revealing none of his worry. What could he do to not give himself away to the Death Eaters, still maintain his cover before the staff members who were not a part of the Order, and yet not hinder the plans of an elemental? He shuddered. While none of the sources he'd read seemed to back up the myths that wronging an elemental could damage one's magic, the old beliefs were so pervasive that they were difficult to discount. It was obvious that Lady Elëassa was not concerned that he would foil her plan, so he decided to trust her judgment. There was no use worrying until there was any indication that—he abruptly stilled, his eyes darting about the suddenly silent forest—over there—he thought he caught a flash of white in a stand of red-tinged birches.

Severus and Minerva shared a quick glance, their footsteps quickening as he heard Potter's "Expelliarmus," and watched three wands slap into the boy's hand. Just as a large number of Death Eaters poured out of the thicket of trees to assist their disarmed comrades, the two professors slammed face first into an invisible wall. Wards! Severus, Minerva, and Dumbledore, who'd caught up with them, rapidly cast spell after spell attempting to indentify the type of warding, trying to peer into the sound-deadened, murky shadows now obscuring them from the battle.

Severus knew that there was a frenzied uproar just feet away, and he could almost sense the flurries of spellcasting, so the uneasy silence surrounding them gave an eerie ambiance to their surroundings. He had just gone through his entire repertory of cutting, explosive, and suppression spells when a fourth set of spells, then a fifth joined theirs, and Severus looked over to see that two of the Aurors from the Hogsmeade press conference had caught up with them.

A third Auror finished a message to her waiting patronus then joined them as well. "I've sent for the Ministry ward-breaking squad. Hopefully, they'll get here in time to do some good," she muttered, sending a particularly Dark-looking spell at the shields. Time passed, though Severus had no idea how much, as the glade in which Potter, the elemental, and the Death Eaters had been shrouded seemed even more deadly quiet.

Without warning, the dampening haze cleared, and Severus and the others were free to move forward. Alert to hidden dangers, they sidled around the slight curve in the road. Severus, in the front, skidded to a halt as a wand appeared suddenly at his throat. Potter, panting, his eyes maddened but his arm steady, stared at Severus without recognition. Those lips, which only a half hour ago had been curved gently into a slight smile, curled into a snarl as a curse began to form. Severus knew he had no time to aim his own wand before he would be hit and stiffened.

"Harry James," the soothing voice of the elemental pierced the quiet. "The fighting is over, and help has arrived. This is the professor, from Hogwarts, remember?"

Severus watched as the Potter's eyes gradually cleared, moving slightly to take in Minerva and Albus. The wand moved from Severus's throat and he relaxed. He would have queried the boy on his defensive spellwork, but had to defer as Potter's eyes rolled back in his head, then closed as the Gryffindor, shivering, slumped slowly to a heap on the ground.

The professors gaped at the piles of Death Eaters—unmasked, unconscious, and bound—with their wands apparently under a magical ward a few feet away. They looked at each other in amazement as Severus noted at least a dozen, several of them members of the Inner Circle. They hadn't seen the encounter, so they wondered about the extent to which the elemental had participated as opposed to how much Potter had been responsible for incapacitating a dozen of the Dark Lord's best fighters.


With a swirl of robes and a flurry of locking and warding spells, Severus closed the door to his chambers and threw himself into one of the two wingchairs set in front his hearth. With a sigh that seemed to empty his entire body, he began to summon his brandy, rethought that, then summoned the expensive bottle of single malt that he'd kept reserved for special or particularly stressful occasions. Today was certainly that. Pouring a healthy dollop, he shuddered, then remembering the press conference, the battle, and the aftermath, just filled the tumbler to the top. Taking a big swallow, he closed his eyes and letting his head fall back against the chair, reviewed the chaos of his day.

Severus was surprised that the aftermath of the attack was handled astonishingly efficiently. Nodding significantly, Lady Elëassa had faded into the background as members of the Ministry (including the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour), more Aurors, and a few reporters arrived. A revived, and still highly alert Potter gave a succinct, almost military report. He detailed the number of assailants, the hexes, curses, and counter-curses cast by both sides to the best of his memory. There was a flurry of excitement when he'd mentioned that he'd been protected by an 'elemental body shield.' Upon further questioning, however, he simply repeated the same terse statement over and over.

Just when Scrimgeour's frustration appeared to overwhelm him, an Auror stepped up to report that all of the Death Eaters had been transported without incident to the Ministry holding cells. Severus noted that it was the same one who had sent off her patronus to summon the Aurors. The witch, who seemed ignited with determination, had been standing off to the side for several minutes while the Minister had been attempting to overrun Potter's defenses, badgering him with leading questions. She had obviously been observing the Minister's treatment of the Boy Who Lived and interceded at the moment the Minister began trying to seriously browbeat the boy. While she hadn't sought the boy's attention or tried to talk with him, Severus decided, with an internal snort, that she was obviously a supporter, probably a more useful version than the normal fans of the 'Chosen One.'

The most surprising element of that scene was that her help wasn't really needed; Potter was actually holding his own during the interrogations by the Minister and reporters. Just as at the press conference, the brat didn't allow the questions to throw him. He gave considered, thoughtful answers, refused to answer silly questions, and deftly sidestepped the poorly-disguised verbal traps. He also did this while maintaining a calm, almost self-deprecating tone. Severus had to admit that the boy he'd only thought of as an egotistic, arrogant James Potter clone had begun to develop into anything but. Severus found the concept difficult to stretch his mind around, but he was beginning to realize that Harry Potter had grown into a fascinating, alluring, compelling young man.

Severus froze. It was time to stop his thoughts from progressing along that route before they wandered somewhere he was unwilling to follow. He swallowed the last of his drink then poured and tossed back another, trying to relax his tense muscles. His cover had been maintained, Potter had been returned safely back to the castle, and the long day was finally over.