Merry Christmas, or a Happy Hanukkah, or a Joyous Yule, or a Happy Saturday to all my readers. :) Here's a bonus chapter for you! And two new HP fics are being posted today too (on AO3 only due to mature content). Enjoy!
December 1993
The rest of November passed quickly, and with the pressure off to use weekends for constant studying, Harry could relax and enjoy going to all three of the second set of Potter Watch meetings that were held on the fourth Sunday of November. Percy was happy to have him there to help teach the junior group how to perfect their Knockback Jinx. The middle group worked on the Shield Charm under Harry's guidance, and the senior group (that Harry attended as a fellow student) worked on the Patronus Charm. So far, they hadn't had any major problems, unless you counted a bit of movement with a couple of students quitting, and a few new ones joining.
Harry got a depressing letter from his Aunt at the very start of December, telling him to stay at the school over Christmas and that he shouldn't "dare" to come home if that "horrible madman" hadn't been caught yet. He moped around all week, and complained quietly about it to Neville. He put his name down on Professor McGonagall's list of students staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, when she said she wouldn't let him go off on his own to hide out from Sirius Black. He'd thought it was worth asking, but she was sternly unpersuadable on that point. But then Neville brought him some good news.
"Gran says you can stay with us for Yule!" he announced happily, waving a letter in the air.
"Brilliant!" said Harry happily. "Are you sure it'll be safe?"
"Absolutely. Your last stay with us went pleasantly enough, didn't it? And Black's been loitering around Hogwarts – so Longbottom Manor should in fact be significantly safer than here, where you may be at more risk in a partially deserted building!"
"I can't argue with that logic!" said Harry, impressed.
But Professor McGonagall could. She took exception to the plan to remove himself from the list of students staying at Hogwarts and go to the Longbottoms' without consulting a teacher about it, and marched him to talk it over with the Headmaster.
"I don't see why I need to get this approved," he complained. "It's really just up to me, and the Dursleys, and I'm sure they wouldn't have a problem with it. They want me to stay with wizards while Black is after me."
"That as may be, but you can't go making up madcap schemes willy-nilly," objected Professor McGonagall. "Your adventures over summer caused us all some distress. So let's just see what Professor Dumbledore thinks of your suggestion."
"It's not a suggestion, it's a plan," grumbled Harry. At least she would be escorting him there, and not abandoning him to talk to the Headmaster on his own. That was something.
Professor McGonagall explained the situation to the Headmaster in his office, while Harry stood by nervously, glancing at the paintings of old Headmasters (it was both interesting, and a plausible way to easily avoid eye contact with Professor Dumbledore while he tried to calm his mind). It turned out that Headmaster Dippet, who was in charge of Hogwarts before Dumbledore, was born way back in 1637! And he died in 1957, according to the small plaque at the bottom of his painting. Three hundred and twenty years old when he passed away – Ambrosius would be glad to learn that snippet of information at last. Harry nodded a polite greeting to the portrait of his ancestor Phineas Nigellus Black, who looked interested to see the shimmering rainbow serpent draped around Harry's neck.
"Your snake, young Potter?" he asked, with irrepressible curiosity. Harry moved over to talk to him.
"Hello sir. Well, I am a Parselmouth – everyone knows that now. Storm here was a gift from Pansy Parkinson, of the Sacred House of Parkinson."
"Ah, those upstart Houses jealous of those with real titles, who made up their own!" he sneered. "It is neither an Ancient nor a Noble House, but it is a fairly reputable pure-blood line. My granddaughter Medea married into the Parkinson family."
Harry thought for a moment before responding, "I believe that would be Pansy's grandmother. I'm not sure if she's still alive, but I know Medea's husband Trophonius is."
Storm was disinterested in their conversation, being distracted by the tempting vision of Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, who was perched nearby. "The ssspecial bird lookss very tasty, but too big to eat. Maybe next year if I grow more. Do you think it has any eggss?" speculated Storm.
Harry spun away from the portrait to look worriedly in the phoenix's direction where it sat on a perch preening its feathers, thankfully unable to understand the language of snakes. "You can't eat Fawkess! That phoenix belongss to the Headmaster!" hissed Harry agitatedly.
Storm hissed impatiently, "I won't. I want to eat its eggss. Weren't you listening to me? You should pay more attention to me when I'm talking. Is it a girl bird?"
"Mr. Potter!" said Professor McGonagall sharply. "Would you kindly return your attention to the conversation at hand!"
Harry apologised sincerely. "I'm very sorry Professor, I shouldn't have gotten distracted."
"We would like to know why your family recommended you stay at Hogwarts, dear b-"
Harry scowled, and Dumbledore corrected himself.
"-Mr. Potter."
"They wanted me to stay where wizards and witches could help protect me from Sirius Black, basically," said Harry, softening the general attitude of "stay away or else we'll kick you out again" they'd expressed in their letter to something kinder and more normal-sounding.
Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Well, we will certainly do that at Hogwarts."
"You didn't sssay if the bird has any eggss, yet," interjected Storm unhelpfully.
Harry tried to ignore his nagging, being much busier with his own complaints right now. "But it was fine when I stayed with the Longbottoms over summer!" Harry objected. "This is no different."
"Ask if it'ss a girl bird."
"Hogwarts was not open over summer, and thus did not have a number of teachers available to protect you. That will not be the case during the Christmas holidays. As I am acting in loco parentis for the Dursleys, who might not be able to send word back in regards to the Longbottoms' invitation before the Hogwarts Express departs for London, I'm sorry to say you'll have to stay at Hogwarts. In accordance with what we know of your guardians' expressed wishes."
Harry scowled. This was like first year all over again, when the Headmaster wanted him to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas. He had no right. Well alright, maybe he technically currently had the legal right, but not a moral one.
Dumbledore's cheerful voice dropped to a more serious tone as he responded to Harry's unspoken scowling objections, "Harry… Mr. Potter. Do not dismiss this proposal of protection so lightly. Several teachers stand ready to confront a madman in your defence, at the risk of their lives. That is no light offer to be so casually disregarded."
Harry startled, and looked to Professor McGonagall for confirmation, which made Dumbledore's eyes twinkle. She nodded affirmatively to him. "He's quite right, Mr. Potter. I would be ready to protect you at all costs."
Rather taken aback, Harry's scowl completely disappeared. It might not be what he wanted, but it was a very brave and generous offer, and not the kind of treatment he was used to receiving from adults. "Thank you, Professor."
"Are you even listening to me?"
It didn't quash all his disappointment, but it did mitigate it somewhat. Professor McGonagall tried to cheer him up as they left the Headmaster's office with talk of the lovely Christmas feast to come, and lazy days whiled away in front of the Common Room fire. He pretended for her sake that it worked.
Storm sulked all evening – Fawkes was male.
-000-
The second Sunday of December was the third set of Potter Watch meetings. Harry went to the junior meeting first, and helped Percy teach the Leg-Locker Curse (Locomotor Mortis) and its counter-spell, from Curses and Counter-Curses by Vindictus Viridian. He also chatted politely with his fans, including Ginny Weasley who was very shy and didn't say much, the enthusiastic Creevey who more than made up for her silence, and the rather odd blonde girl from the Lovegood family who was in Ravenclaw.
For the middle group of third and fourth year students that he led himself, they continued working on the Shield Charm, and also added a little variety by working on the Disarming Charm (Expelliarmus), and the Summoning Charm (Accio).
Pansy "accidentally" spilled some books from her bag when everyone was leaving, and lingered with Draco and Millicent so she could seize a rare chance to covertly socialize with him before the senior Potter Watch group arrived. They had a little chat about Millicent's Quidditch training, how silly it was that Dumblebore would happily let Harry stay with the magically-vulnerable Dursleys but not the Longbottoms, Pansy's grandmother Medea (who was in fact still amongst the living), how to properly ask politely if someone's relative was still alive, and how excited some of the Slytherins were that Harry was including them in his Potter Watch club.
"But that's not a big deal – it's open to all Houses," objected Harry.
The girls exchanged a look. "Exactly. Have a look at some of the other clubs, though. You'll see that Slytherins usually don't get invited to the clubs, except a few of the study groups with Ravenclaw."
"The H.E.L.P. Society is open to everyone, though."
Pansy shrugged. "I suppose. But the philosophy just isn't particularly appealing."
Draco frowned thoughtfully.
"Draco? You're not upset about umm, house-elves?" worried Harry, thinking about the former Malfoy house-elf now in his possession.
He glanced up at Harry. "No, just lost in thought. Do you think you would like to come and reside at Malfoy Manor for Yule? Our wards are above reproach, and I know my parents would be happy to accommodate you. And if you want to claim the technicality, you would be staying with family, since my mother acknowledges you as her cousin."
"Oh! That's very kind of you," Harry said politely. "I don't think I'd be allowed to, however."
Draco shook his head sadly at his naivety. "Just don't tell anyone. Tell the Headmaster your family wrote again, and said you should come home after all, because they're holding a ball, or something."
"Oh yes!" said Pansy excitedly. "Don't tell old Fumble-door. But not a ball. Say that they're taking you away on a tour of the Continent, to keep you away from Black. That's harder to check on. You know if you stay at Draco's, we might be able to visit you!"
"I love it!" said Harry happily. "If you're sure it's safe for your family, Draco. But what if the teachers ask to see the Dursleys' letter?"
"Forge one," suggested Millicent.
"I think I might," he said thoughtfully.
-000-
The senior Potter Watch meetings were the most challenging for Harry, and the ones he always looked forward to getting to stretch his abilities in.
Percy had some information to report to the group which interested the seventh years in particular. "You can apparently get bonus points on the Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL and NEWT exams for volunteering to demonstrate advanced defensive charms, and the Patronus Charm is on that list of approved advanced spells," he reported proudly, to a happy murmur of interest, and a few people crowded around to look at his list.
"How did you get so good at the Patronus Charm, Derrick?" asked Alice. Derrick, Diggory, and Harry remained the most advanced at casting the spell in the group, though others were showing signs of improvement.
"Well, I started working on the spell many weeks ago, after Potter mentioned he thought the school would soon be attacked by Dementors. I wasn't going to doubt the word of the… Boy Who Lived," he finished, with a barely noticeable hesitation. Harry suspected he was originally planning to say 'Heir of Slytherin'. "It's a simple explanation really – I've had more chance to practice than many, just like Potter himself."
Harry noticed the Weasley twins going into a little huddle with their friend Lee during the practice, and they approached him and Derrick about their idea at the end of the session.
"We heard a rumour about how your Boggart changed into a Dementor-" started Fred.
"-At least some of the time," smirked George.
"So we were wondering if maybe someone could find one to bring to Potter Watch, so we can all practice sending our Patroni against a de-fanged Dementor?"
Derrick seemed enthusiastic about the idea, and after soliciting Harry's agreement for the plan, made an announcement to the group. "Messrs. Weasley have engaged Potter's approval for their suggestion to acquire a Boggart for our practice sessions. As some of you may have heard, Potter's Boggart is likely to take the shape of a Dementor, which will give us something with a watered down version of a Dementor's powers to practice on. If anyone in the group knows where we might acquire a live Boggart, or is willing to help hunt for one over… Christmas, please come and talk to me." People seemed polite about Harry's fear of Dementors, which he appreciated. However, he did overhear Flint and Farley quietly snickering and speculating about how if it turned into the Headmaster, could they still attack it just for fun?
Over the weekend, Harry forged his note from his aunt. Professor McGonagall was happy to hear that his family had changed their minds.
"I had word from my cousin just in the nick of time," Harry told Professor McGonagall. "They want me to stay with them for Christmas after all. Isn't that nice?"
"How lovely for you! I hope you'll get to enjoy your holiday more now – I know you didn't truly want to stay at Hogwarts," she said, which Harry thought was very kind and understanding of her. "But security may be a problem staying with Muggles…" she worried.
"Oh, we're going to go away overseas for the holidays, so even if Sirius Black comes to Little Whinging it'll do him no good, for we shan't be there," Harry reassured her, with a smile.
"You swear you won't be sneaking off to go to Longbottom Manor? That you're honestly staying with your family?" she asked, with suspicion uncharacteristic of a Gryffindor (perhaps borne of her experience dealing with Harry). "I will be checking to make sure you're not there, you know."
"I'm happy to swear I'm not doing that – I'll be with my family. I'll swear it by Merlin, or the Potter family honour, should you wish it?" That seemed to satisfy her nicely, though she didn't actually want him to swear by the latter. And it was technically true, after all – he would be with family.
Pansy, Draco and Millicent had promised to keep his plan strictly hush-hush. Not counting Daphne, Tracey, Vincent, and Greg, whom they insisted had to know, in hopes of them being able to visit over the holidays. And Harry said Neville had to know too, of course (though Neville said he wouldn't visit him at Malfoy Manor).
Harry liked Hermione a lot, and didn't want to keep his holiday plans secret from her since she was in fact proving more trustworthy this year, being willing to collude in the secret of him using her Time-Turner. He cautiously sounded her out by admitting confidentially that he was not in fact going to the Dursleys', but was going to stay with another (un-named) wizarding family over Yule. He explained how vulnerable his family would be if Black found them, and also his worries about how Black had been seen around Hogwarts, and then asked her to keep it all a secret. To his pleasure, she didn't seem to gossip about it to anyone, which boded well for future confidences. Neville as his very best friend got a fuller version including some sad complaints about what the Dursleys had really said more bluntly about not wanting him to come home. Neville was very sympathetic about it, though unsure of what to say to help his friend feel better about things. He did wish that Harry was visiting him instead of Draco, but admitted that his Gran wouldn't be amenable to any underhanded schemes, and he'd already told her that Harry wasn't allowed to visit with them (she wasn't happy about it, but accepted it).
Narcissa Malfoy was entreated by her son to send Harry a formal invitation to stay for Yule, in a discreetly plain envelope, and she obligingly did so promptly a couple of days later. Harry colluded with Daphne for some tips on phrasing his acceptance, and sealed the letter with a blob of wax impressed with the seal from his Heir ring.
-000-
Professor Babbling wrapped up the end-of-class question and answer session, and clapped her hands for quiet.
"That's it for today, class! If you haven't fully memorised the Elder Futhark rune set and their meanings and poems yet, be sure to finish doing that over the holidays, as we begin carving practice when you return – remember to bring your tool set to class from now on. We'll also be working soon on rune translations of up to four runes in combination, so brush up on that if you want to get a head start! And if you haven't done so already, read chapter six in your textbooks to review the basic tool use instructions for working with soft clay, and wood. I will see you all again in January."
"So what are you doing for Christmas?" Harry asked Anthony Goldstein, as they packed up their bags and wandered out of the classroom together.
"I don't celebrate Christmas," he answered, looking very uncomfortable. "We do… some other special holiday traditions a bit before that."
Harry smiled – he knew what that meant. "Oh! Well, a joyous Yule to you, then. I'm hoping to join in a winter solstice celebration this year myself," he whispered confidentially.
Goldstein looked startled. "Really? Oh, I… uh… that's not my thing either. I'm Jewish, actually. So we don't celebrate Christmas – I was talking about Hanukkah."
Harry buried his face in one of his hands, looking almost as embarrassed as he felt as he babbled, "Oh, I didn't know… Sorry, I'm an idiot, I just assumed…" He really should've known better – it wasn't like Goldstein had showed up to any of the quarter festivals.
"No, I get it, no offence taken," he said quietly, with a shrug. "I don't like to make a big deal about it. It isn't always easy to be different. Doubly so, as a Jewish wizard. Wow, so you're one of those hidden pagan druids, huh? I never would have picked it."
"Look, Goldstein-"
"-Call me Anthony, if you like. We're friends, right?"
Harry corrected himself nervously. "Anthony. If you'd not mention to anyone that I follow the Old Ways, I'd really appreciate it, and owe you a big favour. It's a bit frowned upon by some – the Ministry has some odd laws against some things, and the Headmaster kind of has a bit of a ban on the old celebrations at school…"
Anthony stopped walking, and turned to face Harry, looking at him very seriously. "Harry, I might not share your religious beliefs, I'm certainly not going to turn you in over them. I'm Jewish. My father's family fled Europe to stay with relatives in America early this century, and as you've been raised outside the magical world, I guess you know what that means."
Harry winced. "Oh, Merlin. That's terrible… I'm sorry."
Anthony huffed, and they started walking again. "And you got that right away. If I said that to someone raised in the wizarding world, they'd ask if dad's family was targeted by Grindelwald, like he was the only threat in Europe. He killed maybe only a hundred magical families and sympathizers, at the absolute upper estimate – about 600 wizards and witches. Voldemort didn't even reach a quarter of that, maybe less, and that's including the Muggles. 'Hitler who?' It drives me mad sometimes. Our History class here is a joke. A joke," he fumed angrily. "Like Britain is the only country in the world, and nothing is more important than tiny squabbles with goblins, and keeping up the pretence that the Christian witch-hunts and the Inquisition didn't hurt anyone important."
Harry nodded. "You're right. I wrote about how in fact many people – Muggles – died in the witch hunts for my summer homework essay, and Binns marked it as a Dreadful."
"I got a Troll for mine," grinned Anthony.
"Have you ever spoken with Tracey Davis?"
"Who?"
"She's a half-blood friend of mine in Slytherin."
Anthony winced. "Did you have to say it like that?"
"Like what?" Harry asked, confused.
"With 'blood status' as the first thing you mention, like it's the most important. Like it was in the war. Why would I even need or want to know about that anyway?"
Oh, thought Harry. I never stopped to think about that. I guess I've fallen into bad habits lately. "Sorry, Anthony. I guess I hang out with a lot of…" Pure-bloods, he thought, and then was lost for how to finish his sentence out loud.
Anthony smirked at him, as if the conundrum he was grappling with was obvious on his face. "You could at least list her House first, or describe her some other way."
"Can I try again from the start?" he asked plaintively. "Like I never said any of that?"
Anthony shrugged and smiled. "It's not like I can forget it, but if you're willing to work on not talking like a blood purist that's great – most people I talk to don't even see the problem and get offended, or tell me I shouldn't be so thin-skinned. So sure, try again, Harry."
Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and gave it another shot. "Do you know Tracey Davis? She's a friend of mine in our year in Slytherin, and she really loves History, but hates how Binns teaches it. I think you'd like her."
Anthony nodded approvingly at his revised sentence. "The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I don't think we've ever talked. You'll have to introduce me some time."
"Next Potter Watch meeting in January?"
"Sure. Sounds good, if I don't run into her before then."
"I'm… I'm not a blood purist you know," Harry said awkwardly, trying hard not to offend. "I don't believe someone's background or magical talent makes them any better. Maybe different, but not better, you know? Are people giving you a hard time about it? Hermione clashes sometimes with… people from magical backgrounds."
"Yes and no. My mum isn't a witch, but my dad's family goes way back – there've been Goldstein wizards in Germany and Poland for centuries. Our family was really well known for crafting golems, once upon a time, and we're related to the Scamanders. So the 'pure-bloods,' " he said, making air quotes with his fingers as he said the word, "approve of dad's family, and don't mind that we're Jewish if we explain how it's not the same as being Christian, and how we've had more trouble from Christians than even regular witches and wizards have, and aren't at all interested in converting anyone. But they don't like mum being a 'Muggle' – they can't understand why dad chose to marry her when he could've found a nice witch to settle down with."
"So those with ordinary families are nicer, on the whole?"
He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Mostly. It's better here than it was at primary school. Some of them… I think they don't really like me being religious, and they make fun of me for praying twice a day while wearing a yarmulke and a prayer shawl, that kind of stuff. Meanwhile my mum gives me a hard time because it should be three times a day. I just can't win. Anyway, I don't think they mean any real harm, but I still don't like it."
Harry didn't really understand everything he was saying, but frowned at what sounded like bullying behaviour. "Anyone I know?"
"No I don't think so. It's just some older students in Ravenclaw. They've stopped, pretty much. People are used to me now – it's been a couple of years and they're over it. Don't worry about it."
-000-
Harry headed off to the library as he did every afternoon when his and Hermione's last class of the day didn't match, to covertly pick up the Time-Turner from her after she'd finished her second repeat of the afternoon. They were hiding it inside a roll of parchment when they passed it back and forth, which drew no attention at all.
Harry nipped off to the boys' bathroom on the Fourth Floor near the library, which held the secondary secret entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. It made sense to have an extra entrance – you couldn't have male Heirs nipping into the girls' loo all the time. Waiting until the bathroom was deserted, he hissed at the wall behind the cubicle at the end with the toilet that didn't ever seem to work properly, waited for the wall to sink down to expose the tunnel, and snuck into the Chamber. With no chance at all now of being spotted using the device, he happily gave the Time-Turner a spin. Four turns of the miniature hourglass later, and time was rewound back to lunchtime, with hours of uninterrupted study time ahead of him.
On his usual schedule, after his studying he'd have a four hour nap in Salazar's quarters, and then at around eight o'clock he would do another rewind of time, to rejoin his friends out in Hogwarts around four o'clock for the afternoon and evening. The third and final time he used the Time-Turner for the day was usually around midnight, preceded by sneaking out of the Gryffindor dorm (under his invisibility cloak if necessary) with Storm in tow, for an eight o'clock to midnight studying binge down in the Chamber again. It was delightful! He wasn't struggling to keep up with all his subjects anymore, with a whopping eight extra hours of study time per day.
"Greetingss, Heir," said several snake statues as he passed. "Welcome again."
"Welcome Ssscion."
"Welcome Heir."
Harry really enjoyed their friendly hissed welcomes as he made his way through the main chamber (noting to himself in passing that he really should find some spells to clean up that murky pool), and down to Ambrosius' hidden chamber.
Harry was starting to settle in to using Salazar's old chambers, but was a little hampered by a lack of funds. Still, the old bedroom now had a pile of blankets and pillows, and some pieces of wood. Harry transfigured the wood and one of the blankets into a camp bed before each nap – the transfigurations didn't last forever, but they were long enough for his purposes. The blankets had been eagerly fetched by Dobby from Potter Cottage to the Gryffindor Tower one evening, and then Harry had shrunk them down to smuggle them discreetly into the Chamber of Secrets. He'd also had borrowed a desk, a chair, and a bookcase from one of the many old abandoned classrooms around Hogwarts, to outfit the study with the bare basics for a decent studying environment. He wondered if it counted as stealing – maybe the Dursleys would think so, but he liked to think he'd just requisitioned them. It wasn't like they had left Hogwarts, after all. If he ever managed to stumble across a storage room with spare beds while he was exploring the castle he planned to 'requisition' one of those too. And maybe some rugs, to make things look more homey.
The bookshelf held most of his correspondence course textbooks, spare parchment, quills and ink, and one whole shelf full of snacks. He'd found a good cooling charm in his book One Minute Feasts - It's Magic! which basically created the magical equivalent of putting food in a fridge – it made a surface chill the air around it. He re-applied it each day to the shelf, but was hoping to figure out how to enchant it permanently once he was better at Ancient Runes. Harry grabbed some fruit and a leftover roast chicken leg cached from yesterday's dinner, and re-stocked the shelf with a roast beef sandwich and some jam biscuits, which he'd taken from the table at lunchtime and hidden in his bag.
After his quick snack he worked for a couple of hours on his maths homework, jotted down some science study notes for Dudley, and finished off an assignment for Charms. Harry had slowly weaned Dudley off expecting too much help, but he was still sending him study notes, and occasional suggested outlines for big projects. The combined owl and regular mail system was rather slow, and by the time Dudley got a response about homework it was often already overdue, so he'd given up on nagging for help with that part of his schoolwork earlier.
Sealing up some envelopes for Dudley and for Oxford Home Schooling with a happy sigh, he stretched leisurely, and got to work on his own personal study project. Currently he was working on mastering a healing spell for broken arms, "Bracchium Emendo", which he practiced on a chicken wing bone. After half an hour of work on that, he glanced at his dad's fob watch and decided he had an hour to spare to go and have a chat with Ambrosius before he was scheduled for a nap.
He took his red leather journal and a quill, and headed into the secret room. Being bitten again on the way in by that little statue that insisted it had to check how he tasted every single time. He'd gotten quite adept at the Episkey healing charm as a result of repeated practice.
He tapped politely on the mosaic's frame to wake the old wizard up, and sat down in the chair for a bit of a chat.
Ambrosius stirred and sat up on his klinai, one of the reclining couches in his mosaic.
"Hello again! It's still December, it's been only a day since I last visited," Harry started. Ambrosius always wanted to know roughly what the date was, and seemed to find it a little distressing if too much time slipped by between visits, though he hid it well.
"Greetings, Harry. I suppose you'd like to continue our discussion about disguise spells?"
"Yes, if you don't mind. It's only a couple of days before the Hogsmeade weekend, and then I'm off on holidays for Yule for two weeks and won't be able to visit.
"Before we get started on that, though, could you tell me if you know under what conditions Custos will wake up? If an adult tried to kill me, do you think she'd know, and come find me?"
"No. She will wake only for a breach in the walls – that's where the wards are that her lair is linked to. Of course, you could always visit her hideaway and just ask her to wake. I believe she'll be roused automatically when her lair entrance is opened."
Harry nodded.
"Well now that's established, let's see how you've been going with your practice with my glamour charm."
"Transfigallasso contego krupto obdurestikos!"
Ambrosius looked unimpressed. "Hmm. It's just not working at all."
Harry sighed. "Do you think it might be because I can't easily tap my wand on the ground? Is the staff tap on the ground an intrinsic part of the spell?"
"It shouldn't be necessary. You gain enough magical power channelled through your modern wand without connecting to the magic of the earth directly."
"Am I saying it right? It's so long."
"The rhythm is right. Some of the syllables don't sound quite how I'd pronounce them myself, but that doesn't really matter. If it's too long and you're not connecting with the meaning of the spell, how about trying another incantation? Something shorter?"
Harry brightened up. "That sounds good. What is it?"
Ambrosius stared at him blankly. "That's up to you. What do you want it to be?"
Harry stared puzzledly back. "You can't just make up spells."
"Of course you can."
"No, you can't."
"Yes you… Where do you think spells come from? Someone has to create them. The words themselves aren't critically important. They're a key to trigger an association in your mind with the desired effect, and the type of energy required, so that with practice you can almost instantly draw forth your magic without hours of ritual preparation. It should be doubly easy for you, with the modern tools of wizardry at your disposal. A phoenix feather core. Ingenious!"
Harry pondered the matter for a moment. "So I could just make up a new incantation, like 'Face change', and it would work?"
"Incanting a spell in your mother tongue or indeed any pure language is unwise. You don't want to accidentally draw forth your magic in the middle of a conversation."
"Is that why spells are almost never pure Latin? There's always something else mixed in?"
"Precisely! Though Latin is the base for many spells as even in my day it was well in decline, and not used for everyday speech. However, as it was often understood by the more educated, it was an excellent choice as a base language for incantations, as the meaning of the words would be understood and easily connected with."
"Do you think I could make up a spell that's a mix of say, Ancient Egyptian and French?"
Ambrosius nodded. "Hypothetically. You'd want to get the syllable balance and emphasis right, of course. They cover that aspect of spellcasting in Arithmancy these days, or so the last Heir told me. Tom made up a couple of spells of his own, you know. Based in Latin, of course."
"Alright, I guess I can give it a try." Harry scribbled down some possible incantations, before picking one he liked best. "How does 'Transforto lavultus' sound? Transform visage, based off Latin with a little French and English mixed in?"
"No, you've got too many rising tones in there, it's too light and airy. The words themselves aren't crucial, but the pattern is important. You should work with the pattern already ingrained in your mind by now – that you need grounding tones for a more sustained spell duration. Some say that the use of particular patterns by generations of wizards has shaped magic itself. But enough philosophy. Try Transvorto for the first word instead. The matching number of syllables in each word should work well, however, I'd change the second word altogether, keeping in mind that an even number of syllables works well for a charm. Consider adding a new wand motion – perhaps a wave of your wand rising up from the ground to the top of your head. I think that might work well with that incantation – better than the stabbing gesture you've been using so far. That's more for spells where the energy should be focused outwards away from your body."
Harry brainstormed some more, scribbling down some possibilities. "Transvorto visagus. How about that? Six syllables, kind of more grounded sounding?"
"Very promising. Give it a try. Remember to focus clearly, and that it's an illusory charm, not a transfiguration. Draw the energy up with the wand, washing over your hair and skin. Picture the result before you cast."
Harry spent a few minutes thinking about the exact result he wanted. Light brown hair, scar hidden, blue eyes, and a smaller nose like Pansy's. The effect sliding over his skin with a cold trickling feeling, like the Disillusionment Charm did. "Transvorto visagus!" He twirled his wand in a circle like he would for the Disillusionment Charm, but starting with a downwards focus as if drawing energy up from the earth to the top of his head so it was more like a spiral.
He felt like it maybe worked, and asked Ambrosius eagerly, "Well, do I look different?"
"Blue eyes, no scar, well done!"
"That's great! Do I have brown hair? A small nose?"
"No, I'm afraid not. And of course it's faded now – it didn't last long. But that was superb work, all the same! Either you've got a real gift for Charms, or that wand of yours is helping immensely. Ah, one of my greatest spellcasting achievements, re-created in minutes by a young boy."
Harry himself was less impressed by his fleeting success. "It's faded already?" he asked disappointedly.
"Yes, it only lasted a few breaths. But if you keep at it you should have it mastered in a month or two, I'd wager!"
Harry sighed. "That's not soon enough. I suppose," he mused reluctantly, "I could experiment with Metamorphmagus abilities. I might be a one, you see. I haven't wanted to try using any potential powers, in case I get stuck."
"Well now! You're full of surprises today, aren't you! I don't suppose you already know how to turn into an animal, too? Do they teach that at Hogwarts now? By the time the school was formed it used to be the province of only the most skilled and experienced adult wizards and witches, and then attempts were only ventured by those with natural talent in the area of self-transfiguration, or who felt a great spiritual kinship with animals."
"You're an Animagus? I know Professor McGonagall can turn into a cat, but we only learn the theory at school. They don't let us practice it – apparently it takes months of ritual effort and mistakes can be deadly."
Ambrosius perked up a little at hearing that. "Sounds much like it was in my day, then. The talent was even in decline in my day, and few could manage it. Those that did, needed much preparation and a ritual."
"What can you turn into?"
"A small falcon, about a foot long."
"That's awesome! What were the Founders? Were they Animagi?"
"I think the answer to that should be obvious!" he said with a laugh. "How do you think they picked the animals for their coat of arms?"
"Oh! Tell me, how could Gryffindor be a lion, if he'd never seen one? They don't live in Britain."
"Magic, I suppose," said Ambrosius, highly amused. "He'd read of them, of course – in old Roman records of gladiatorial contests, and bestiaries. Oh, I remember he came in for such a teasing from Salazar about having the animal that was on William the Conqueror's blazon - two golden lions passant, the symbol of the Duchy of Normandy! They kept lions imported from Africa at The Royal Menagerie of England at the Tower of London from the start of the 13th century onwards, you know. I'm not sure exactly when it started, but I know by the time of King John they had lions and bears. One of Salazar's descendants visited it – he was very excited to tell me all about it. So lions weren't totally unheard of, though Godric had never seen one, besides himself. Is it still there?"
"Cool," said Harry, and scribbled it down in his journal. "And no, there's no menagerie there any more – they closed it and sent the animals to the London Zoo."
They chatted about the London Zoo for a while, and Harry told him about talking briefly there with the boa constrictor, and how much it had worried him back when he didn't know about magic. Ambrosius thought it was very odd no-one had visited him at all to teach him about his powers when he was younger.
"It seems a very odd way to manage things. I would have ensured you were fostered with a magical family, had I the oversight of the matter."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably and changed the topic. "Hey Ambrosius, was Rowena a raven or an eagle? I hear students debating that sometimes."
"Eagle. The 'raven claw' describes the black colour of her eagle form's talons. Her plumage was a dark brown, if I recall correctly."
Harry obediently wrote that down. "Thanks. And what would you say was your best spell creation? Apart from the glamour spell and being an Animagus? Are there some more spells you could teach me?"
"Hmm. You know, I was very good at battle magic, and agricultural and metalworking spells too. I gave Godric some advice on enchanting his sword after he got it made by the goblins. I wonder what happened to it. Hmm. I would say probably my best spell was one that summoned swarms of stinging flies to bite horses. Extremely useful in battle – easily underestimated, it passes for a natural event, and is very hard to counter."
Harry tilted his head sceptically at him. "I'm not convinced you're being totally honest with me here."
Ambrosius smiled secretively. "And do you share all your secrets with me? Trust me unconditionally?"
Harry glanced away uncomfortably. "No. I've been let down by too many adults in my life. You could have a secret agenda I don't know about. Or share my secrets with someone I don't want you to."
Ambrosius didn't seem offended, in fact he smiled at that. "Then we make quite the pair, Heir of Slytherin. For I have been used and betrayed by more than one Apprentice, both in life and in this strange afterlife. I didn't trust Tom completely either in the short time I knew him, if that is of any comfort to you. No-one should offer their trust lightly – you should ensure the other's character has been proven beyond question. You keep your secrets, young wizard. Trust without question does engender friendship, but it also is a fertile field in which can grow betrayal of the worst kind."
"Yes," Harry nodded emphatically in agreement. "Yes, exactly."
Ambrosius nodded, and changed the topic. "So, shall I talk you through using your powers, young shapeshifter?"
"You can help me if I get stuck?"
"Not directly, but I'll talk you through it. Start with just your hair. If it goes wrong, you can just cut it. Hair is the easiest. Many men with the shapeshifting power used to keep their chins permanently smooth and free of hair. A small thing, but very convenient. I of course favoured a luxurious beard, as I aged," he said, stroking his happily.
"Are you a Metamorphmagus?"
"No, sadly I'm not a shapeshifter. But my father was, and I've taught those who were, so let's begin."
He coached Harry through changing – how to get in touch with his magic, and focus on his desire to change, picturing his hair growing longer.
By the end of the session Harry had successfully managed to lengthen his hair so it brushed his shoulders in soft waves, and then (with less difficulty) shrunk it back to its normal tidy and smooth state. He'd also mentally come to terms with being a Metamorphmagus, helped by Ambrosius' unquestioning and matter of fact acceptance. It wasn't such a rare thing for a wizard after all. When Harry worried about it aloud, Ambrosius said it used to be quite common, being a shapeshifter, with at least one in ten having the ability to some degree. It was quite normal, really. Being able to turn into an animal (or even a tree) was apparently rarer, though much admired, as your first change held a large element of danger – a lot of things could go wrong, including being stuck for good in your alternate form.
Ambrosius's glamour spell (that he was very proud of) was a great innovation that let those without the skill of shapeshifting imitate what their more talented brethren did as naturally as breathing.
A few more practice sessions, and he'd be ready, Harry vowed.
-000-
Harry gossiped to Neville, and no-one else, about his plan to sneak out to Hogsmeade (and from thence in search of a Muggle town) on the last Saturday of the term.
"If it works, and it's safe, and I don't get caught, I'll take you with me next time," he promised. "If it fails I don't want you to get into trouble."
"You don't think the Dementors will notice anything amiss?" worried Neville.
"No, because I'm not going to use my invisibility cloak or any charms until I'm well away from the border they guard. I've got a spell to disguise my face a bit and mingle with all the students going to Hogsmeade, and then split off after that. And if something does go wrong, I'll cast a Patronus, and then fly as fast as I can for Hogwarts. A detention would be better than getting my soul sucked out."
Harry hesitated a moment, thinking about his friendship with Neville, before coming clean. "No, to be honest… it's not actually a spell. I mean, there is a spell but I'm not very good at it, so the disguise is, well… I'm kind of… a Metamorphmagus."
"Wow!" Neville said, looking very impressed.
"You don't think it's Dark, or weird?" worried Harry.
"No, Harry," soothed Neville. "It's not like being a Parselmouth. It's more like being able to Fly, or being a Seer. It is a wondrously rare talent, but no-one thinks it's evil."
"I'm sure it's not that rare," muttered Harry.
"Just like being a Parselmouth was no doubt quite common and ordinary?" teased Neville.
"Precisely!" said Harry with a laugh. "But all the same… keep it to yourself?"
"I will."
Lacking the Time-Turner on weekends to provide a convenient alibi, Harry made sure he was seen scowling as the students left for Hogsmeade, and announcing his plans to spend the day reading or studying. Hermione sympathetically offered to pick some stuff up for him, which was appreciated as he wasn't sure his shapeshifting would hold up well enough to explore Hogsmeade without being recognised. He gave her a short list of Yule gifts he wanted picked up for various friends, and some galleons to cover the expense. Then he snuck off to a nearby bathroom, concentrated on changing his hair and face, and checked in the mirror that it was working as intended. Now he had blue eyes, sandy brown curly hair covering his scar (that had stubbornly resisted changing), and a vaguely different nose. Fantastic! He realised though that the glasses might give him away. He wasn't game to try transfiguring them to a different shape in case he ruined the lenses, but a quick mutter of "Colovaria" applied the Colour Change Charm on the frames and changed them to dark green, which made them look quite different.
Harry watched the crowds being escorted out to Hogsmeade, and picked his time carefully, walking along with some older students, who'd probably be uninterested in talking with younger students, and not bothered by seeing an unfamiliar face. He was curious to explore Hogsmeade, which did look rather fascinating, but he was on a mission. And very wary that his shapeshifting might revert without him noticing, despite his practice. It did have a tendency to revert to his preferred tidy black hairstyle if he wasn't concentrating.
He wandered into the woods bordering Hogsmeade, consulted his map, and cast a Warming Charm while he got changed into some trousers, a shirt, and a vest, and shoved his folded black robes into his backpack. His fob watch he put in its special vest pocket, on one side, with the double Albert chain looping through a buttonhole, and the fob weight of his Gringotts key and his Heir ring in the pocket on the other side. A red jumper went over the top of it all, to hide the oddness of it from Muggles. He then got his broom out of his backpack and unshrunk it. Apparently you really shouldn't shrink magic brooms if you wanted to keep them in top professional condition, but they would cope alright with it. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, and then wrapped his invisibility cloak all around his broom before hopping on it. The broom should be invisible to Muggles, and he himself should blend in with the sky like a flying chameleon. Hopefully.
Whizzing across the sky was really a great deal of fun, if a little unnerving to look down and not see the broom he was sitting on, or even his own hands. Harry flew south above featureless forest for about six miles, which didn't take long on a Nimbus 2000, until he reached a proper tarmac road.
"I did it! Civilisation!" he whooped happily, as he saw a car drive past far below him. He followed the road north-east until he saw signs of a town up ahead. Which, if his calculations were correct, should be Grantown-on-Spey. He landed in a small grove of pine trees away from the road, hid his broomstick in the branches of a tree to retrieve later. He picked a relatively distinctive tree with a broken branch, not too far from a road sign, so he wouldn't lose it.
If the twins' information is correct, I'll be caught if I cast spells away from Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, he reflected, having carefully quizzed the Weasleys earlier on the topic. So since I reached my destination faster than I thought I would, I'll have to wait until the Disillusionment Charm wears off. The return journey is going to be tough, without any magic allowed except for my broomstick and cloak. I'll have to walk for a bit, then zip through the trees with my cloak over me and the broom as best I can manage.
It took about an hour but eventually it did wear off, and Harry wandered into Grantown-on-Spey. It was… odd. Jarring. It seemed to him to be quite a small town, about three big blocks wide and six blocks long, with a few straggling houses stretching out the borders of the town, and a pleasant little caravan park. It wasn't magical and old-fashioned like Hogwarts, nor did it feel as normal as Little Whinging – which was a new, modern suburb with houses all the same like they were stamped out with a cookie cutter onto identical rectangular plots of land. Oh, he could clearly see this wasn't a magical town like Hogsmeade – the cars were a big hint there, and all the shops were modern, and everyone's clothes. But along High Street, and along the extra-wide road with strips of parkland in the middle of it called The Square, the buildings were all old stonework – perhaps not the almost-millennia old architecture of Hogwarts, but at least a couple of hundred years old or more, he guessed. Some of the buildings had turrets! The old Arms Hotel looked positively castle-like, and even the little library in the community centre had a tiny turret to one side of the building!
Harry found a red postbox and a phonebooth outside a recycling centre on the Square. Which again was an old stone building – not like the concrete and brick buildings of Little Whinging. He sent off his letters to Dudley and Oxford Home Schooling, and phoned his assigned tutor, who was surprised to hear from him, but willing to chat to him about accelerating his Latin and French course so he could take the final exams at the end of the school year. He usually preferred not to work on a Saturday, but was happy to make an exception for Harry. It was the first time he'd called, after all! His tutor, waxing enthusiastic about his progress, managed to talk him into taking his Maths IGCSE exam early as well, leaving English and Biology for next year. They both agreed the former needed a bit more study if Harry wished to be assured of getting an A (Harry was a bit embarrassed about getting a B last year, despite his best efforts). In Biology Harry was working through the coursework steadily and well, but a bit more slowly compared to Maths. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying Biology, the problem was in fact quite the opposite. It was simply that he had a tendency to get side-tracked and started looking up magical books to see what wizards thought about different aspects of biology. Harry promised his tutor he would complete the paperwork and send it back promptly, as apparently applications for taking exams in summer needed to be done by February.
After his productive consultation was completed, he went exploring. Being in Grantown-on-Spey felt more jarring than when he went home for the summer – that was going back to the "normal" world. But here it was this odd blend of old architecture and modernity, and it reminded Harry a little of how he felt himself a lot of the time – not quite one thing or the other.
He browsed the shops for a while, getting a feel for the place, and telling anyone who asked that his aunt and uncle were shopping elsewhere. He got a bunch of sweets from The Candy Box for Yule gifts for friends and acquaintances, and stopped in a pet store to buy some little goldfish as a present for Storm. He didn't have to get a tank, thankfully. When he promised he had a tank at home he could get them to soon, they were happy to sell the fish secured in a plastic bag with some water and air trapped inside it like a fish-filled balloon.
Feeling a bit peckish, Harry found a Bangladeshi and Indian takeaway, and bought a takeaway Indian butter chicken curry and rice – exotic cuisine to him which he'd never tried before. For it was never on offer at Hogwarts (where roasts ruled almost every meal except breakfast), and at home Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had always disparaged a lot of foods as not being properly British (though Uncle Vernon didn't usually say it as politely as that). It was a bit spicy, but good, and Harry ate it on a park bench in the middle of the Square, and just watched everyone go by. Living their normal, ordinary lives. All of them unaware that he had a magic wand and an invisibility cloak in his bag. That he was Heir to a Noble wizarding family.
He guessed it would be a bit odd, to give magic up for good. He used to wish he could. But not anymore. He couldn't close his eyes to the secret world beneath the surface. Whether it was ugly, or wondrous, it was an integral part of his life now. And after all, the Muggle world had its flaws too.
A/N: Ambrosius' glamour charm is based off a mishmash of Latin and Ancient Greek words supplied by online translators. Since I don't want it to sound accurate, mistakes are fine. The original words I used for inspiration are:
Latin: Transfiguro contego corpus obduresco
Ancient Greek: Allassō khrōzō kruptō paredreutikos
English translation for the above words: Change form/appearance, hide (by covering), physical body/body's surface, be persistent.
Harry's incantation is based off: Transverto vultus (Transform/transfigure, countenance/visage in Latin), and then based off visage (English/French).
Ainulinde – thanks for being my beta for my scene with Anthony.
Guest asked if students could self-study for "Ghoul Studies". The books aren't available in the Hogwarts library anymore, and testing for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams isn't currently offered by the Ministry. So you'd be doing it as a hobby, not as a subject. You could get books and lesson notes from the older generation, if you were keen! It's been mentioned a couple of times to show a bit of Hogwarts history, changes in attitudes against "Dark" subject matter, and interests of characters (including someone subtly feeling Harry out on how he feels about Dark stuff).
Guest also asked if Dobby could teleport Harry to Grantown-on-Spey, or make him pizzas. Good questions! The former may be technically possible, but Harry doesn't know house-elves can teleport people through the anti-Apparition wards around Hogwarts (or even take people with them in the first place). His and Hermione's studies have only taught him that they can sometimes get themselves through wards (or more precisely, that wards are crafted not to prevent them doing so, as they're more useful servants when they can pop around). Dobby hasn't learnt how to cook Muggle foods yet, but maybe could in the future.