Author's Note – Whew! Finally, another chapter. This one is way late and I'm very sorry, but hopefully I've made up for it by making it a good and long one. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Rated 'T' for implicit violence and mild language. No characters were harmed in creation of this work except for Draco, who will be mentally scarred for life because he accidentally ran into Ron coming out of the shower one morning in nothing but his birthday suit. On with the show…
Chapter 21 – The Other Boy Who Lived
The day after Christmas proved only slightly less trying than the day before. The time was rapidly approaching when everyone would have to return to school, and no one felt particularly excited about the prospect of having to deal with the start of another term.
Breakfast was once again a quiet affair at the Burrow. Jason appeared, much to everyone's surprise, and made an honest effort at eating his porridge. He wouldn't make eye contact with anyone, however, and he soon disappeared back up to his room. Several glances were exchanged around the table, but no one said anything to the red-headed boy.
After the meal Harry convinced the other underage wizards in the house to suit up and head outside to the Weasley's makeshift Quidditch pitch, ostensibly for a pick-up game. The four adults were otherwise occupied, and thus didn't have any real objections.
The small herd of teenagers (there were seven in all: Harry, Draco, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron and Hermione) went up to the clearing with their brooms, except for Hermione, who still didn't like flying. Once they arrived Harry said, "Er, I need to tell you all something."
Everyone stared at the black-haired Gryffindor for a moment. "Does this have something to do with the trip to Hogwarts yesterday?" Draco asked.
Harry said nothing, but nodded.
Obviously, no one was interested in Quidditch any more, so they all made themselves comfortable as best they could at the edge of the clearing. Hermione conjured a small fire, and everyone seated themselves on fallen logs, or stumps. At first, Harry was rather apprehensive about telling so many people about what was going on, usually it was just Ron, Hermione, and of late, Draco, but he knew he could certainly trust the other Weasleys as well. Harry chuckled to himself; they were family after all.
Harry started by telling about the walk to Hogsmeade, and how his uncle seemed really distraught, and then continuing with the almost surreal conversation with Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore asked my uncle what he planned to do, and my uncle said that he just wanted to settle down and have a quiet life."
"Well, that's what you've always wanted, isn't it Harry?" Draco asked, to the surprise of everyone else.
"Er, yeah, but Dumbledore said that he thought Voldemort (everyone else cringed) was going to come back at that I somehow have to be involved in his defeat, but he wouldn't say why or how he knows that."
"Wait, You-Know-Who's coming back?" Ron asked with a frightened expression on his face.
"Honestly, Ronald, it shouldn't be that surprising. He's been trying to come back ever since first year," Hermione said is a snippy voice.
"That's true. The question is…" George interjected quickly.
"Can he really come back?" Fred finished.
"Unfortunately, I think he can." Draco said in a matter-of-fact tone. Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement as the blond Slytherin continued, "You-Know-Who now has the Dragon's Tear, or more correctly, my father does, and with his help and Wormtail's, I'm sure You-Know-Who will waste no time in resurrecting himself."
The group of teenagers exchanged uneasy glances at that realization. "What do we do about it?" Ginny asked.
"We'll think of something," Harry said in a more confident manner than he felt.
"Hey, Harry, what do we do about Jason?" Ron asked.
"Er, what do you mean?"
"I never thought I'd admit it, but ickle Ronnikins has a point." George said.
"True, brother mine. I don't think Jason's doing too hot right now," Fred agreed.
Harry frowned. "That's true, but I don't really know what to do about it."
"We'll just have to take care of him," Ginny said. She sounded as if she looked forward to the prospect. Fred, George, and Ron all traded a glance. They knew how their sister could get sometimes.
"Well," Draco said, hoping to change the subject, "It sounds like priority one will be figuring out how to get the Dragon's Tear back." Everyone agreed and they talked for a while about how best to go about it, with little success. Eventually, they tired of the discussion, and began the now very tardy game of quidditch that was their original excuse for the foray out of doors.
Brandon Potter had a lot on his mind. After breakfast he remained at the table staring blankly at his cup of coffee, mulling things over. His world felt very much out of control at the moment, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about it, if anything. The professor wasn't really worried about Harry, though it was no small daunting task to raise an orphaned teenager. No, Harry, amazingly, was fairly self-sufficient. He just got occasionally clingy and affectionate, a fact that Brandon found most amusing, mostly because Harry's father, while very loving, was not overly affectionate, even with Lily. Harry definitely got a bit of Brandon's DNA in that respect – Brandon had always been the emotional, affectionate one in the family. It was the fact that Brandon now had to worry about raising two orphaned teenagers that was troubling; well, that and the fact that he was about to come clean to the world at large about his identity, and the implications of that were hard to quantify at best.
Then there was Sirius. At least Harry's godfather would get something resembling justice for his twelve years in Azkaban and nearly two years on the run. James' best friend deserved that much at least. But how to go about it? And what would it mean for the remnants of the Potter family? Brandon realized that his years of globetrotting were probably over, but he wondered if he also would no longer be able to spend quiet days in his castle in the Pyrenees, reading ancient manuscripts, or working on his old cars, or even just sitting on the forecastle watching the sun rise over the mountains with a good cup or five of coffee.
Coffee – Brandon focused on his cup of coffee and realized it was cold, not that it particularly mattered to the professor. He drained the cup then helped himself to some more. 'I probably should go see Jason,' he thought. Setting his jaw firmly, he ascended the stairs to where the boy was asleep yet again.
Brandon opened the door to the bedroom. Jason was entombed in blankets, facing away from the doorway. Brandon walked quietly around the bed and sat down. He looked down at the sleeping form and was surprised to see that Jason was awake and staring at the weak sunlight streaming in through the windows.
"Hey, buddy," the professor said quietly.
"Hey," was the listless response.
"How you doing?"
"Not good."
"I know." There was nothing else to say, really. They sat there in silence for a very long time, then the red-headed boy rolled over and pulled the covers up over him again.
Brandon Potter touched his cousin lightly on the head before heading out of the room. As he left he said, "I know you don't really feel like it, but I think it'd be good for you to come down for lunch and try to stay up for a bit, OK?"
Silence was the reply.
Ivy Malfoy was beginning to get suspicious, that is, she was beginning to get more suspicious than her normal Slytherin predisposition allowed for. She knew her father was up to something, but she didn't know what. Ever since Ivy had come back from Draco's birthday party, he had been almost…patronizing toward Ivy, and then the day before Christmas, Lucius had come home in the middle of the day and disappeared into his study. Ever since then, many strange people had been coming and going at all times of the day or night.
Something was brewing, and Ivy didn't know what, but she did know that she didn't like it.
Ivy was in her room at Malfoy manor. Christmas had come and gone and she was looking forward to being back at school shortly. It was mid-afternoon so she decided to check in with Draco, and see how everything was going. She went to her dresser and pulled out the brooch that was her talkkey. Looking at it, she uttered the incantation that would let Draco know she wanted to talk. After a moment, the ruby eyes of the snake flashed blue, and Ivy spoke, "Drakey-poo are you there?"
The voice that responded was clearly irked, but sounded somewhat tinny and distant. "If you call me that one more time, sister dear, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week." Ivy heard laughter in the background, and she knew that Draco wasn't alone.
"What are you up to big brother?"
"Well, we've had a very interesting few days." Draco hadn't talked to Ivy since his birthday, and so he filled her in on all of the recent occurrences at the Burrow. When he finished, Ivy was completely speechless.
"Ivy? Ivy? Are you there?" The tinny voice of Draco Malfoy was starting to sound slightly anxious. "Hello? Ivy?"
"Oh…sorry, I'm here."
"Oh, good. I was starting to get slightly worried."
"I just can't believe it! How is everyone dealing with it?"
"It's a little hard to say. Harry and his uncle seem more or less OK, but I think they're slightly in shock. Harry's been really rather, uh, clingy with his uncle since we found out about the attack on the Tor." Draco sounded like he wasn't sure how he felt about that, a fact that Ivy picked up on.
"Do I detect a bit of jealousy, Draco?" She responded suspiciously.
"Hang on…let me get where I can talk," was the terse reply.
"But you're already talking Drakey-poo," Ivy said in her best innocent-little-sister voice.
"Oh shut it already. You know exactly what I mean," Draco snapped. Ivy giggled.
"Alright, I'm up in one of the bedrooms. What were you saying?" Draco tried to buy a little time to figure out how to say what he was thinking.
"You know exactly what I said, Draco Malfoy. I think you're jealous that Harry's been paying more attention to his uncle than you."
Though Ivy couldn't see it, Draco fidgeted uncomfortably before replying. "Why would I be jealous? I'm not jealous." The blonde boy's tone was most unconvincing.
"Maybe jealous isn't the right word, big brother, but I think you don't get to spend as much time with Harry as you did, and you've not had any real friends before, so you miss that."
Draco was rather astounded at his sister's perceptiveness. He sighed, "You're right. I do miss that, but ever since all this…stuff…happened, he's been all but attached to his uncle. I've never seen him so clingy and scared-looking, not even when Voldemort was after him or he thought Sirius Black was trying to kill him."
"Maybe that's because he never had a family before, Draco."
"Oh." For once, the silver-tongued Slytherin was at a loss for words.
"He's still your friend, Draco, and this is a rough time so you have to just hang in there with him, OK?"
"I know." Draco found it slightly surreal that he was being lectured by his sister, and decided to change the subject. "So, how are things at the Manor?" Draco asked in a dry tone.
"I'm getting kinda scared, Drakey-poo. There are some strange things going on here." Draco was so surprised to hear this he didn't even notice the use of his sister's annoying pet name. "There are lots of people I don't recognize coming and going, and I haven't seen father for days. He spends almost all his time in the study." Draco knew which study Ivy was referring to.
"Do you think you could get a better idea of what's going on?"
"I can try, but I'm scared. What if Father finds out?"
There was an uneasy silence at the other end. "Just be careful Ivy."
"Ok, big brother. I'd better go."
"Alright, I love you, little sister."
"I love you too, Draco."
Ivy spoke the incantation to end the connection, then gathered her thoughts before heading out of her room to see if she could figure out what was going on in Malfoy Manor.
Draco went back downstairs after he finished talking to his sister to find everyone eating an early lunch. Surprisingly Jason had joined them, though he didn't really appear to be aware of his surroundings. Arthur Weasley was looking through the Daily Prophet from that morning when he let out a soft "Oh dear."
Everyone turned to look at the patriarch of the Weasley clan. Arthur handed the paper over to Brandon Potter and pointed to the offending article.
Dark Arts Defender or Death Eater in Disguise?
Faithful readers of this publication will recall that the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy is a job with a bad reputation, reports Rita Skeeter, roving Prophet correspondent. This year's incumbent appears to this reporter to fit the description perfectly. Brandon Marion at first glance appears to be a typically British wizard. He is of average height, with messy brown hair eyes that never seem to quite settle on a color. It's only when you speak to the young gentleman that it becomes apparent that he is not a typical British wizard. He's an American.
To this reporter, this raises a serious question: Why would Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, hire an American Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? The American educational system, especially the magical one, is notably lax, and rumor has it that "Professor" Marion has no prior teaching experience. Headmaster Dumbledore asserts that Marion is well-versed in Defense Against the Dark Arts, having served as an Auror for the American magical government. This reporter questions whether an American Auror would have sufficient breadth of experience to be an effective instructor in the British system where the standards of education, and the level of skill necessary to combat the Dark Arts, is significantly greater than in our former colonies.
And what of this new professor's past? The answers are surprisingly sparse, and those that do exist are vague. No record of Brandon Marion exists in the United States prior to 1981, when Marion was thirteen. Upon further investigation, this reporter discovered that on November 1, 1981, a very coincidental date to occurrences here in Britain, a teenaged Brandon Marion appeared in the records of the United States Department of Magical Immigration as having applied for citizenship in the United States, having arrived there to live with his extended family. Strangely enough, the application appears incomplete, as the country of origin and reason for application are not filled out; oversights that did not prevent the U.S. government from granting the teenaged Marion's residency and citizenship request.
Students at the school do not seem to be concerned about their professor's qualifications. "He's very cool," says Lavender Brown, a fourth-year Gryffindor and classmate of the famous Boy-Who-Lived. "He seems to know what he's talking about, and even if he talks a little strangely we always seem to be able to figure out what he means." Some other students are not so complimentary of the newest addition to the Hogwarts faculty. "He definitely plays favorites in class; always giving points to those bloody Gryffindors. And his favorite of the bunch seems to be blasted Harry Potter," says Marcus Flint, a burly seventh-year student and captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
What is the connection between Brandon Marion and his prize pupil, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? It's difficult to say at best. The two seem very comfortable with each other. Hogwarts' own celebrity is often seen dining with the young professor or talking with him after class. If you recall from past editions of this newspaper, we reported that the Boy-Who-Lived and his worst enemy, Draco Malfoy, appeared to have buried the hatchet and have become quite close friends. Rumor has it that the Boy-Who-Lived and young Master Malfoy spent part of the Christmas holidays with the young professor, a fact that raises even more questions. Why did Draco Malfoy, heir to House Malfoy and son of former Death Eater Lucius Malfoy suddenly become friends with the Boy-Who-Lived? Why did the two boys spend the holidays with a school professor with a shady past and questionable qualifications? Why did the Headmaster permit this? What are Professor Marion's true intentions toward the Boy-Who-Lived?
Perhaps the most unsettling occurrence in all of this is the recent attack on Glastonbury Tor. It has been reported that a group of Death Eaters, led by persons unknown, attacked the Tor, took something of value, and killed a wizarding family in the process. This reporter has been able to determine that the family that was killed is none other than the American family of Brandon Marion, who was en route to meet with their cousin to spend Christmas. While this reporter certainly extends her condolences to the Hogwarts professor for this tragedy, she must also ask why his family would have been the target of a Death Eater attack? All is not as it seems here, and while there are more questions than answers, this reporter is dedicated to bringing the truth to light. Stay tuned.
Brandon Potter had been reading the article out loud, and he traded glances with Harry and Draco as he read. When he got to the part about his family being killed he realized too late what he was reading, and no one was really surprised when Jason pushed away from the table and ran up the stairs to his older cousin's bedroom.
"I'll go check on the poor dear," Molly Weasley said with a concerned expression on her face. She rose from the table and headed up the stairs as well.
"Well, boys, what do you think? You're implicated in this fine piece of journalistic objectivity as much as I am," Brandon Potter said wearily.
In true house fashion, Harry responded first while Draco appeared to pause and consider. "It's bloody ridiculous! Who does that Rita Skeeter woman think she is? It's none of her bloody business!" The Gryffindor boy exploded.
"I know, Harry, but you shouldn't be surprised, really. You've always managed to be at the center of things, and you know the Prophet likes to keep an eye on you," Brandon responded.
"I don't want to be the center of things. I just want to be left alone like any normal boy! And they all but said that Draco is a Death Eater and we all know that's a pile of sh…er, crock!" Harry was so frustrated and angry he was close to tears. Brandon put a hand on his nephew's knee to comfort him. It seemed to calm the Gryffindor boy, at least somewhat.
Draco had had sufficient time to consider his response by this point. He was surprised that Harry had stuck up for him, though he thought he really should be used to that by now. "It is rather annoying. I do not particularly appreciate the implication of my status as a Death Eater, among other things. I wonder if we can somehow use this to our advantage?" He was much more calm than Harry, but everyone in the room knew that Draco Malfoy was just as angry as his ex-rival.
Brandon Potter's eyes had turned a steely gray themselves – this was never a good sign. "Yes, I find myself rather unamused by this little article myself." Harry couldn't help but stare at his uncle. He was acting very….Slytherin. It was slightly scary. "I had been contemplating how best to reveal my identity to the world at large, now that it's no longer necessary for me to keep things secret. I believe this will force me to move up my timetable considerably." Everyone at the table exchanged uneasy glances.
It was decided that everyone would return to Hogwarts a bit early to help Jason, who seemed to come out of his shock a little bit, get settled in before the start of term. Thus it was the following day when Brandon decided they would have to make a trip to the United States to "wrap things up" as Brandon put it. Brandon and Jason were both dreading this trip, and everyone else seemed to sense this.
"Uncle Brandon, can I go with you?" Harry asked a bit sheepishly as they came down to breakfast, Jason bringing up the rear. It had been a long and restless night, as both Jason and Harry had interrupted Brandon's sleep at one point or another because neither boy had been able to sleep. The newly formed "bachelor's club", as Brandon had been sarcastically calling his odd family unit, seemed to have a co-dependence problem. Brandon hoped it was just because of the stress and tragedy of the situation and not permanent.
"Er, well, yes, I suppose," the professor said uncertainly with a frown.
"I just want to see what it was like where you lived when you were my age, and that way we can all pitch in and help, with, well, whatever." Harry trailed off, and gestured vaguely in the air.
Brandon Potter eyed his nephew suspiciously. "What do you mean 'we'?"
"Oh, um, it's just that all of us kids talked about it last night, and they want to go with us tomorrow. You know, just in case." Harry fidgeted nervously.
"Just in case what?" They were sitting down at the breakfast table. Jason was eyeing the exchange with some nervousness. He recognized the look in his older cousin's eyes and was trying to warn Harry about it without being too obvious.
"Ah, well, that is…" Harry was stammering. "Just in case something happens. You never know, you might need backup." It sounded like it was a question rather than a statement of position.
Jason could see what was coming. "HARRY JAMES POTTER, I WAS AN AUROR FOR THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT. GENERALLY SPEAKING, I DO NOT NEED BACKUP, AND DO YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD TAKE MY ONLY NEPHEW ALONG IF I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE DANGEROUS?" Brandon suddenly seemed to realize he was shouting at his nephew. "Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry I yelled at you like that. I shouldn't have." He put his arm on his nephew's arm, a very downcast expression on his face.
Harry was cringing at the unexpected onslaught, and everyone else at the table was wincing as if in pain. His uncle's sudden outburst made Harry feel like he was back at the Dursleys being punished for some trivial infraction. 'It's OK,' he thought to himself, struggling to keep his composure. 'I'm not at the Dursleys. This is Uncle Brandon, and he's just a bit stressed.' Harry took a deep breath and said in a slightly shaky voice, "It's OK, uncle. We're all a little worked up at the moment." Harry smiled weakly.
It ended up that Brandon, Jason, Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione were going to go to the States. Hermione thought the trip would make for an interesting compare-and-contrast essay on wizarding culture and Ron didn't want Hermione to be a nuisance with all her questions. Draco was still feeling like he hadn't seen enough of his friend recently, and they all figured that they could pitch in and help get things accomplished faster, not to mention offer their support for whatever emotions came out. This was going to be a hard trip.
"I'll have to call my friend at the Department of Magic and get him to authorize a Portkey for all of us, since British Portkeys are annoyingly difficult to come by these days," Brandon grumbled. He finished up his breakfast and headed over to the fire, pulling out from his robes some special-grade Floo powder used for international calling.
An hour or so later, everyone was ready to go. Brandon had received the authorization for the Portkey, and as an ex-Auror, he of course knew how to create it himself. They ended up using Harry's school trunk for the Portkey, because they would need to bring stuff back, and it was large enough for everyone to hold on to comfortably.
After the familiar-yet-uncomfortable hook-behind-the-navel feeling, Harry found himself in what appeared to be a thick wood of tall pine and oak trees. Everyone else seemed to be looking around just as he was. Only Brandon and Jason appeared to be familiar with their surroundings, and even they seemed slightly perplexed.
"Uh, Jason, did I screw up the Portkey again?" Brandon asked in a perplexed tone.
Jason snickered, "Looks like it."
"Bloody hell, hold on a bit."
Jason took the opportunity to explain to the four friends what was going on as they were even more confused now, "The thing about a Portkey is that unless you fix a very clear picture in your mind of where you want the thing to send you when you set the spell, you can end up in an unexpected place. Apparently my genius cousin over here couldn't decide if he wanted to show up at my house or his, so we ended up halfway between." Jason sounded bored.
Hermione was impressed. "How do you know all that about Portkeys? It's pretty heavy-duty magic." Draco nodded in agreement, while Ron and Harry just shrugged.
"Easy, Brandon's only done this about fifty times before, it's kind of annoying really."
"Watch it, half-pint, or you can fly back to England on a muggle airplane." Even though the comment wasn't directed at him, Draco began to look a little green around the gills at the thought of having to fly on an airplane again.
"Half-pint! I'm almost as tall as you are!"
"Doesn't matter, you're still a half-pint. Always were, always will be. End of discussion."
Jason realized he wasn't going to win this one, and so resorted to grumbling under his breath. Harry was relieved to see some semblance of normal family interaction occurring with the red-headed boy. It was perhaps a sign of Jason beginning to deal with things better.
A moment later Brandon announced he'd reconfigured the Portkey, and in short order the group was standing in front of an old farmhouse set high on a ridge in a clearing of trees.
"Wow," Harry said. "They don't have houses like this in England. The Burrow's the closest thing I can think of."
"How much land do you have?" Draco asked with interest.
"Er, I'm not really sure – do you remember Brandon?"
"I think you guys have half a section." Once again, there were looks of confusion on the faces of those who were not of American citizenship.
"Right," Brandon clarified, "that would be 320 acres."
"Ooohhhh…" was the collective response.
"That's quite a bit. We only have a thousand or so at Malfoy manor," Draco added,
"Of course, there are significant amounts of other land indirectly under our control, but we don't own it."
"You should see Brandon's place…it's even bigger than ours," Jason said excitedly. Everyone turned and looked at the young professor, who seemed distinctly embarrassed.
"Thanks, Jason," he muttered under his breath.
"Bigger, uncle?" Harry asked incredulously.
Brandon sighed, "Well, yes, but it's because I bought an old civil war plantation and have been remodeling the house."
"Wicked!" was Ron's assessment.
"We'll see it eventually. We have to stop there today as well, before heading back to England."
They turned to walk up to the house, and as they approached everyone got quiet, as the gravity of the situation re-asserted itself. The weather didn't help, as the clouds were gray and lowering. A wind was kicking up out of the north, blowing the bare trees back and forth.
"Snow tonight," Brandon said ominously.
They entered the house – everything appeared to be in order, just as Jason and his family had left it days before, except that somehow, everything now seemed shrouded in a veil of sadness. They spent several minutes walking through the house, pausing to look at family pictures or old drawings tacked to the refrigerator (The Taylors were wizards, but like Brandon with his cars had become used to and fond of some muggle conveniences).
Almost by chance, everyone ended up in the living room. Jason and Brandon were trying very hard not to cry – this was clearly an emotional thing for the two of them. Brandon was sitting between Jason and an also-teary-eyed Harry, with his arms on both boys shoulders. Draco, Hermione, and Ron were standing quietly looking at the makeshift family.
"I feel like any minute Mom will yell for dinner from the kitchen, or Brent will come in from playing quidditch with his friends and start giving me a hard time about something or Dad will come home from work, but they won't will they?" Jason asked in a shaky voice.
"No, they won't Jason." Brandon replied softly.
The tears were streaming freely down the red-headed boys face now. "I miss them. I didn't think I could ever miss my family, but I do."
"I know. And you'll always miss them. But you won't forget them, will you?"
"No."
"Why don't we go gather up your things?" Brandon helped his cousin up from the couch and they went up to Jason's room. As they were ascending the stairs, Brandon turned and looked at the four Britons in the living room. "We won't be long. Why don't you guys explore the grounds or something, but be back in fifteen minutes or so."
"Yes, uncle," Harry said miserably, still sitting on the couch.
When Brandon and Jason had disappeared up the stairs, Hermione turned to the dark-haired Gryffindor, "Harry, are you OK?"
"Not really."
Hermione sat down on the couch and grabbed Harry's hands. Draco sat on the other side of his friend and put a hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder while Ron sat on the floor and looked up at his best friend.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione continued.
Harry was silent for a long moment. Then he exploded. "I can't believe this! What in the bloody hell did I ever do to that stupid bastard that he had to go and kill all my family! I never wanted to be the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I wish Voldemort had killed me, at least then I wouldn't have to deal with all of this!" Harry jumped off the sofa and began to pace around the room, alternately kicking things and pounding on the walls, tears of rage streaming down his face as his three completely astonished friends looked on.
Harry's outburst had the unintended effect of his uncle and his cousin flying down the stairs, ready for a fight. Brandon was in his mountain lion form, eyes flashing a dangerous gray, Jason looking scared, but determined.
"Whoa," was the consensus. "Look at his eyes!" Ron added.
Harry, seeing the commotion, stopped punching things long enough to look and realize what was going on. "Uh, Uncle Brandon? It was just me. I got a little upset," he said sheepishly.
The large cat seemed mollified, and transformed into the form of Brandon Potter, a very serious expression on his face. Jason relaxed as well.
"You're an Animagus?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Yes, unregistered of course," he winked at the bushy-haired girl. "As a matter of fact, anyone with Potter blood, whether they've figured out the mechanics of it yet or not, is an Animagus and we tend to have feline forms for some odd reason. I expect Harry will figure his out any time now." The professor looked at his nephew who had just traded a significant glance with Draco. "Anyway," the professor continued, "What's going on down here. I heard this terrible commotion and was convinced it was a Death Eater attack."
"Er, sorry, like I said, I was just upset about, well, things," Harry said not really wanting to elaborate.
"I see," the professor said warily, eyeing his nephew, though he didn't question the teenager further.
"Um, not to be rude, mate, but have you learned to duel and stuff?" Ron asked of Jason. He had noted the very aggressive way the boy had come downstairs ready to fight.
"Oh, well, no, not exactly…" he looked at Brandon, who gave a slight nod. "It's just that, well, I've always wanted to be an Auror, so my cousin was teaching me basic stuff when he would come home to visit and stuff." Jason looked embarrassed.
"Bloody hell, that's awesome." Ron said. Everyone else agreed.
"We're just about finished here. Jason, go up and grab the trunk and we can be on our way." The redhead nodded in agreement, ran upstairs, then reappeared momentarily carrying a miniaturized trunk and an albino corn snake around his neck.
"You have a snake?" Harry said excitedly.
"Yeah," Jason agreed with a smile.
Harry said 'Hello, my name is Harry Potter and I'm the cousin of your owner' in Parseltongue.
'Hello, Harry Potter, my name is Ace. Are we going somewhere?"
"Yes, but I'll explain more later," Harry said noticing the strange looks he was getting from his cousin and his uncle.
"Very well, I'm rather sleepy anyway. I think I'll take a nap," The snake put it's head down and closed it's eyes.
Harry turned to look at his uncle and his cousin. "You're a parselmouth," Brandon said in a matter-of-fact voice.
"Er, yes sir. It's one of those nasty habits I picked up from Voldemort, I'm afraid." Harry looked nervously at his uncle.
"Well, no matter. I'm sure it's come in handy." The professor smiled. "Let's be on our way. Just a moment, and I'll have the Portkey ready to go."
A half an hour later found everyone getting settled in at Brandon's old house. It was, in fact, an old pre-civil war plantation house, though Brandon had lived in one of the guest houses up until right before he moved as he was remodeling the main house. The house was set on a hill overlooking a broad expanse of fields and forest. The house itself was typical of a southern plantation, with large white columns in the front. The inside was a work in progress, with hardwood floors badly in need of sanding and refinishing and bullet holes in many of the walls.
He explained that the house had been the headquarters of the Confederate army during one of the major campaigns of the U.S. Civil War. This of course, led to a discussion of American history - the majority of the Hogwarts students (except for Hermione of course) had not the slightest idea about the history of the former British colonies – as they gathered their things and prepared to Portkey back to the Burrow.
"I just need to run out to the garage and check on the cars," Brandon said.
"Cars?" Harry and Draco replied at once. "We're coming with you."
They headed out to the garage, which was of course the old carriage-house of the plantation, and were surprised to find that the wind had gotten significantly colder and snow was beginning to blow in. Stepping into the garage, Harry and Draco were surprised to see five or six shrouded forms all lined up. "I keep them covered of course, when they're not in use." Brandon looked at his watch, and then the dark sky outside the window. "Unfortunately there's not time to do this the old-fashioned way. I'll have to use magic. Sorry, boys."
Harry and Draco exchanged a glance. They didn't have a clue what Brandon was talking about.
Brandon Potter extracted his wand and uttered a spell that Harry didn't understand. He got it in a moment, and nearly got scared to death, too, as the covers all flew off the cars, which had miraculously started themselves and were idling away happily.
"Whoa," Harry and Draco said in unison. The cars, of course, were old BMWs that the professor had restored over the not-so-many years of his life.
"You did all this yourself?" Harry asked.
"Well, yes, though to be fair, I must tell you I did use some magic here and there. OK, we'll let these run for a bit while we finish up." They exited the garage, leaving the cars running, and wrapped up the remainder of their business in the house.
A few minutes later, they headed outside; snow was now coming down rather furiously. The cars could still be heard in the garage.
"Don't you think you should turn those off?" Ron asked.
"No problem."
Brandon Potter uttered a spell and all indication of activity at the house and garage ceased.
"What is that spell, professor? I saw you cast it at Jason's house too," Hermione said.
"Ah, that is a mothballing spell. This way the house will stay in the same condition as I left it, and no one will be able to intrude without suffering some rather nasty surprises. I'm not sure when I'll be back, so it's a good precaution.
With that, and one long last look at his home, Brandon re-oriented the Portkey for the Burrow. As Brandon felt the hook behind his navel, he thought it strange to be leaving home, perhaps forever, and yet to feel like you were headed home at precisely the same time.
The next couple of days at the Burrow were hectic, as everyone was trying to get ready to go back to Hogwarts slightly in advance of the new term. Brandon Potter spent a lot of time with his head in the fire conversing with a large number of people via Floo, but Harry couldn't ever figure out who he was talking to or what they were talking about. Jason seemed to come out of his shell a little bit more every day, but he still had his moments. Everyone did their best, even Draco, to be encouraging. Harry was finding that he really liked his cousin. He decided that Jason was kind of a cross between Ron and Draco. He looked and had a personality like Ron, but definitely had brains like Draco or Hermione. It made things interesting.
The group arrived at a very quiet Hogwarts the Thursday before the start of the new term. Jason had retreated back into his shell somewhat at the prospect of being in yet another strange place surrounded by more strange people, but the other teenagers did a good job of making him feel at home. On Thursday afternoon, Harry, Jason, and Brandon received a summons to the Headmasters office, and when they arrived, they found Dumbledore standing to meet them accompanied by a large black dog, as well as quite a few empty chairs.
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed and he ran forward to give the dog a hug.
"I'm sorry he cannot transform to greet you properly, Harry. We are waiting on a couple of more guests to arrive," Dumbledore said in his usual cryptic tone while he winked at Brandon Potter.
Harry looked confusedly at both the Headmaster and his uncle, but before he had the chance to say anything, the door to the Headmaster's office opened yet again to admit Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harry was surprised when Cornelius Fudge and two other wizards followed them in.
"Ah, Dumbledore, always a pleasure." Fudge was wearing his emerald green suit and hat, and Harry had to work very hard to get the image of a Leprechaun out of his head.
"The pleasure is mine, Minister. Won't you sit down?"
"Certainly. You know Aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt? There have been some rumors that Sirius Black is lurking around Hogwarts again, and they felt it best to accompany me."
"Indeed. Let me introduce Brandon Marion, and his cousin Jason Taylor, who of course you will recognize from the attack on Glastonbury Tor."
"Oh dear, yes. I was very, very sorry to hear of your loss my boy."
Jason bristled at the minister's patronizing response, but nodded his head in acknowledgement.
"Well, tell me, Dumbledore, why are we here?"
Dumbledore seemed to not answer the minister's question. "It is fortuitious, minister, that you mentioned Sirius Black. I too have heard rumors of his proximity and in fact so have several others in our company."
"Is this why I am here?" Fudge asked with the slightest hint of impatience.
"Perhaps it would be better if I were to let Professor Marion explain. Professor?"
Harry noticed (and had to be careful not to laugh) that his uncle was paying rather more attention to the female Auror than he was the verbal jousting between the Headmaster and the Minister. Harry also noticed that Tonks seemed to be equally distracted.
"Professor," Dumbledore chided gently.
"Oh, right. My apologies," Brandon Potter turned bright red with embarrassment. Harry stifled a chuckle, which earned him a glare from three of the four professors in the room, not least of all, his uncle.
"Minister, I have recently uncovered information which not only will tell us where to find Sirius Black but will also prove his innocence in the matter of the murder of Lilly and James Potter and Peter Pettigrew."
"Not this again," Snape grumbled from his seat.
"I quite agree, Dumbledore," Fudge added. "Please tell me you have not dragged me all the way here to pose some cockamamie theory of Sirius Black's innocence. The last time it was the word of two thirteen year-old children and a werewolf. This time you propose that I should believe the words of a man who wasn't even on this side of the Atlantic Ocean when this all happened?" Fudge was clearly annoyed and impatient.
"I believe Professor Marion has some valuable information, and can be trusted in this matter," Dumbledore said calmly.
Fudge was not calm, however. "Yes, well I sometimes wonder about those whom you choose to trust. What of this professor's background? What of his experience? How do we know he is what he claims to be?"
"I assure you minister, Brandon Marion is not what he appears to be at all."
"My point exactly!" Fudge had hit his stride. "The fact of the matter is that you couldn't find a professor for the Dark Arts post this year and he was your last straw. I'm of half a mind to appoint a professor myself since you seem unable to fill the post with qualified candidates or at least with candidates who do not possess significant shortcomings."
Harry could see his uncle getting angry. Brandon Potter's eyes had gone steel gray. The young professor rose, and Dumbledore tried to prevent him from speaking, but Brandon, surprisingly, stopped the Headmaster with one glance.
"Minister Fudge," Brandon said in a voice that was as soft as snowfall yet also held the edge of a blade within. "You know nothing of my past or of me, and yet you insist on insulting me. This is not an honorable thing to do."
"Honorable? You dare accuse me of being…."
"Be quiet," Brandon Potter said in a voice even more dangerous. Fudge shut up. "Will you hear what I have to say?"
"I will not waste my time on pointless theories of uneducated foreigners, especially on a matter which has been resolved for the majority of that foreigners life."
"Then we are done here, but I will tell you this. You will hear what I have to say. I am sorry it will not be under circumstances which would have been beneficial to you, rather than detrimental." Brandon Potter sat down, his eyes looking forward, his jaw clenched. The room was silent as death. Harry had never seen his uncle so angry, and judging by the look of things, neither had anyone else.
"Well," Fudge said in a voice oozing with sarcasm, "Thank you for the lovely invitation, Dumbledore. Now, if we are finished, I must be about my business. Good day." Fudge and the two Aurors rose and left the office, though not without Tonks turning and taking one last look at Brandon Potter. This time, the professor seemed not to notice.
After the door was closed again, Dumbledore said simply, "That was not quite how I intended this meeting to transpire."
"What in the name of Merlin's Beard is going on here?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply.
"Yes, I am rather inclined to wonder the same thing," Snape added.
"The fact of the matter is that young Professor Marion here is not quite what he seems," Dumbledore said. The Headmaster went on to explain everything, after which both McGonagall and Snape looked significantly more enlightened, though Snape didn't look any more pleased.
"Well, I can't pretend that I find this to be happy news, but at least now I'll know what I'm really dealing with. Another Potter." Dumbledore looked at the Potions Master with a raised eyebrow.
Harry thought that McGonagall was looking suspiciously like she was happy about all this.
"Headmaster, if it's all right with you, I would like to proceed with Plan B," Brandon said.
"I think that would be best." Dumbledore agreed. "Would you like to make the announcement, or would you like me to?"
"Perhaps you should make it at the Welcome Feast during start of term. I'll make sure we have appropriate, ah, media coverage."
"Very well, why don't you take Snuffles with you to your apartment? He looks like he would rather stay with you than me." Dumbledore smiled.
Harry, Jason, and Brandon all headed toward the door. Snape glared at the trio while McGonagall smiled. "It's good to have you back, Mr. Potter." Brandon Potter smiled in return.
The next several days were some of the best of Harry's vacation. He got to spend time with Sirius and his uncle, and they were able to get Jason up to speed on how everything worked at Hogwarts. It was very different than school in America. He and Jason told Draco, Ron, and Hermione about everything that went on in Dumbledore's office, but none of them really could figure out what Harry's uncle had planned.
"All I know," Harry said at lunch before the welcome feast that evening, "was that I walked into my uncle's apartment yesterday and Rita Skeeter's head was in the fire and my uncle was saying 'You won't want to miss the Welcome Feast at Hogwarts tomorrow night. You want to know the scoop on me? You'll get it then.' I think that Skeeter woman could almost taste it, she wanted it so bad."
Sure enough, Rita Skeeter was on hand when the Welcome Feast began. Professor Dumbledore stood up to make his start of term announcements, and Harry could tell his uncle was quite nervous. He just wished he knew why. All of the adults had been very close-mouthed since the meeting in Dumbledore's office, but Harry couldn't help but wonder why Sirius was still around.
"Welcome, welcome to the start of another term," Dumbledore was saying. "As usual, I am glad to see you all back in one piece, even if you didn't stay that way for the whole term. Mr. Filch has taken the unusual step of adding several things to the prohibited list mid-year. The list now includes such things as 'smelly sock potion' and a muggle concotion known as 'bullion cubes', which some enterprising first-year has been placing in the shower heads of certain fourth-year girls toilets. Well done, Mr. Filch, we thank you for your diligence." The headmaster's eyes twinkled.
"On a more serious subject, some of our more observant students will have noticed the addition of another red-headed student to Gryffindor house. Now I assure you, it's not another Weasley," there was laughter at this, "at least not exactly. The Ministry of Magic would not approve of what I am about to tell you, but I think it is important that you know and understand the truth." The Great Hall got very, very quiet at this statement.
Dumbledore continued, "Many of you will remember reading about strange occurrences at Glastonbury Tor the day before Christmas, and a very unflattering article about our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. What was said in that article was true. The family that was killed was in fact the family of Professor Marion. The only survivor of that attack was the Professor's cousin, Jason, who is now in Gryffindor house. The question then, is why? Why would Death Eaters attack Glastonbury Tor and kill an American family?" Everyone was silent. They were all waiting on Dumbledore's next words. Even Rita Skeeter was listening intently, her quill posed to write. "Simply, that is because Brandon Marion is not who he seems to be." Dumbledore looked at the DADA professor, who appeared to be marshalling his courage as he stood.
"You all know the bittersweet story of our own Harry Potter, but what you do not know is that Harry's father James had a younger brother who was thirteen at the time all of this happened." There were mutterings in the Hall. Rita Skeeter was writing furiously again. "This 'lost Potter' was enrolled at Hogwarts with many of your parents or older siblings, and when Voldemort attacked and killed Harry's parents, Albus Dumbledore helped James Potter's younger brother escape and disappear. But what happened to him?" The room was once again quiet.
"You each have seen the rather unflattering Daily Prophet article about me, my past, and my relationship with Harry Potter." The majority of the Great Hall seemed confused at this switch in the conversation. "Am I a Death Eater? Absolutely not! Am I an unqualified American professor? I would like to think not." Several people chuckled. "Quite simply, though you all have known me as Brandon Marion, I was born, and lived the first thirteen years of my life as Brandon Potter, James Potter's younger brother and Harry Potter's uncle."
The Great Hall erupted in sound and commotion – everyone was talking at once. It was several minutes before the hall quieted down enough for Brandon to be heard again. "Those of you who have parents who knew me will find that now they will remember all about me, for that was the nature of my escape – a spell designed to erase all evidence and memory of my existence. That spell has been lifted. Because of this, I can now tell you that Sirius Black did not betray my brother and his wife, and that Sirius Black did not kill Peter Pettigrew nearly fourteen years ago. Peter Pettigrew is the servant of Lord Voldemort and it was he who betrayed Harry, James, and Lilly.
If the tumult at Brandon Potter's first pronouncement was significant, there was utter pandemonium in the Great Hall now. Brandon Potter sat down heavily, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. As Dumbledore and the rest of the staff (those who weren't in shock) tried to restore order, no one noticed Rita Skeeter slip out the side door of the Great Hall. Only Harry Potter's closest friends noticed him sitting there grinning like the Cheshire cat, yet with tears streaming down his face.