Chapter XXXI

October 17, 1993

Sam read Harry's letter with great interest. He was testing to begin the wizarding equivalent of a graduate degree? Conducting research with an apparently renowned expert in a field of magic? It was a remarkable difference from the pursuits and activities Harry wrote about in Hogwarts. He also mentioned, almost in passing, that he'd written to a Magical Congressman he'd met and received permission for the two of them to spend a week at the Magical Archives in Washington, D.C. Sam thought back to the things he was thinking of and doing when he was thirteen years old. Certainly not shouldering the workload Harry had.

Then there was the other side of his letters. The parts where Harry described the success at operationalizing Sam's suggestions, where he included magic and spells he learned of that he felt might aid them in, in- well, in murdering a lot of people at once in painful ways. He read through the last sentence again, where Harry laid out the violent possibilities of long range conjuration, then set the letter back down on his table.

He stood up and started a fresh pot of coffee. Not the best idea for more caffeine on a Sunday afternoon, but it provided him something to do while he worked through his thoughts. Memories of a dinner with Norm and Diane, of them warning him that Harry's background made him much more in need of approval from the people he cared about, sprang into his mind. Was Harry pushing himself like this because he wanted to make Sam happy, or was it what Harry actually wanted?

The truth was, Sam was beginning to work through his grief. The rage and the utter hatred he felt for Norm and Diane's murderers was as strong as ever, no doubt. But his fear and powerlessness diminished with the increased distance from London, from Great Britain, and that made the actual real-life repercussions of what he and Harry were going to do hard to ignore.

'I'm basically crafting and molding Harry into a child soldier,' he thought, not for the first time. A despicable thing, that he used to see documentary specials about on the BBC and condemn. 'What would Norm and Diane say if they were here?'

"Norm would call me an unfeeling bastard, and Diane would murder me with her bare hands," he said aloud, a rueful smile on his lips. They weren't here, though, they were dead. The way his friends had been killed was unforgivable. But if the only path to vengeance lies in forcing a damaged 13-year old to graduate from 'victim of unfortunate circumstance' to 'intentional mass murderer', perhaps revenge may not be the answer.

Feeling conflicted and not at all like he knew what he should do, Sam returned to his seat and jotted down his opinion about Harry's long-range attacks, and a few suggestions of his own. As he reached the bottom of his response, he included that he was impressed that Harry was excelling academically, ending the letter with the offer that the boy was free to send him letters to his friends for Sam to take to Owl Express. Maybe some contact with other people from back home would help Harry make the same progress that Sam himself had.

He'd have a talk with him over Christmas break, he decided. That was enough to clear his conscience for the moment.

October 31, 1993

"I can't wait for the Feast to begin! They always save the best dessert for Halloween."

Neville smiled at Ron's exuberance. "Hey, I was thinking about inviting Luna to sit with us during the Feast. You don't mind, do you?"

"Lovegood? Why? We're supposed to sit with our own House during special events."

"Haven't you noticed how isolated she always is with the 'Claws? Plus, Hagrid held me back after our Care class last week and asked me to check on her; he says she hasn't come to visit him in over a month."

"So?"

"She loves magical creatures almost as much as Hagrid does. He's her favorite professor, it's strange that she would stop visiting him like that."

"But why does she have to sit with us? She says the oddest things."

"Ron, I promised Harry I'd look after her. Besides, do we really need a reason to make sure she's all right?"

It wasn't an argument worth the effort. "Sure, Nev, that's fine with me. You'll be doing the explainin' if McGonagall comes calling, though."

They entered the Great Hall and split up, with Ron scouting out a section of Gryffindor's table for an opening that the three of them could squeeze into, while Neville walked over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Luna?" She looked up when he called her name, a wide smile appearing on her face.

"Happy Halloween, Neville!"

"Same to you, Luna. Ron and I saved you a seat with the Gryffindors, would you like to come spend the Feast with us?"

Luna stroked her chin as though she were deep in thought. "Is there pudding at your table?"

"As long as you get to it before Ron does, sure." Luna laughed happily, and stood up from her seat.

"Uh, Luna, why are you wearing two left shoes?"

A new voice cut in, speaking sotto voce, but still clearly audible. "Check it out, Fat-bottom and Loony, a match made in heaven." It was Marietta Edgecombe, a Fourth Year Ravenclaw that was close with Cho Chang.

Luna's smile dimmed, but persisted nonetheless. She sat down across from Ron, who gave her a nod while anxiously tapping his leg, impatiently waiting for the meal to begin. The three of them watched the Hogwarts ghosts glide across the air above the assembled students, singing a traditional Halloween ballad. Once their performance was completed, food appeared on the table and the Feast was underway.

"Finally!" Ron immediately filled his plate, and dug in.

"I'm glad you came to sit with us, Luna. I'm sorry we haven't spent much time together this term."

"It's all right. Things are so different after last year. I didn't expect anything from you, Neville."

"Right, well we're your friends. You can expect us to care."

Ron swallowed a bite of turkey, and chimed in. "That's right!"

Luna was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal, listening to the boisterous Gryffindors enjoy the Feast. Dean was toasting Angelina, Alicia, and Katie for tying the widest margin of victory the Gryffindor quidditch team had ever achieved; Lavender and Parvati were showing off the orange and black streaks they'd colored their hair with; Colin Creevey was snapping photos of the Weasley Twins slipping a potion into Lee Jordan's drink. It was much different than meals with the Ravenclaws, who tended to bring books and parchment to dinner, or gather in twos and threes. She luxuriated in being a part of the crowd.

Neville and Ron were chatting about the gobstones game they'd left unfinished in the dorm when it happened.

"Has anyone seen the toffee apples?" Seamus asked, looking for his favorite Halloween treat.

Ron, pausing mid-sentence about the exact game rule he was reciting to Neville, glanced around and absentmindedly replied, "By the pudding, next to Loony."

Neville wanted to bury his head in his hands as the small Second Year stiffened, then pushed away her bowl of pudding. "Luna, wait-" he began, but the girl was already walking away.

"You absolute arse!" He hissed at Ron, who wasn't even cognizant of causing offense. Neville left the Great Hall and tried to think of which way Luna would have gone. 'Probably towards her dorms,' he guessed, hustling along to the nearest staircase, hoping to beat her to Ravenclaw Tower.

In fact, Luna had left the Great Hall and slipped out the entrance of Hogwarts, walking along the path to the Forbidden Forest. She skipped momentarily, but after a few steps she slowed her pace back to a normal stride. 'No fun in skipping if you're forcing yourself to do it,' she realized. Luna arrived at a familiar clearing, climbing up her customary elm tree to perch on a large branch.

The clearing that Harry had trained in so often last term still bore the scars from his magic. Luna catalogued every scorched tree trunk, splintered branches, and pits in the earth, remembering each night and spell that created them.

A half-starved black dog crept into the clearing. Luna clambered down from her branch, greeting the animal with a happy wave and a bright smile. "Hullo!" Up close, it looked like a Grim, albeit one that hadn't eaten in a very long time. "Hungry? I guess you can have the Halloween treats I'd saved for the Giant Squid."

The dog scarfed down the candy corn and the dry toast she had in her cloak. "You look like you could use a friend," she said, removing her wand and casting a warming charm over the animal before sitting down on the cold ground to scratch behind its ears. "Me too."

November 5, 1993

Jean Batisseur leaned against a tree and observed the Third Year student seated before him. Harry had his eyes closed, feeling for his magic, seeking a closer familiarity with the ebb and flow of his power. The boy had changed so much from the one that had brashly conjured a stone pillar in these very woods, one year ago.

There was a viciousness that hadn't been present before, a loosely restrained savagery that manifested in his spellcasting. Batisseur had been a spectator in a two-on-one duel between Harry and Wally Jacobs and Manuel Jimenez earlier this week. Harry certainly didn't hold back, lashing out at the two with lethal fire, edged conjurations, and his unique brand of magical bludgeoning. Thankfully, the skill of the other two in their respective fields and their familiarity with Harry's style meant no one needed admission to the infirmary at the duel's end, sporting only minor injuries.

'Howe is a fool, and so is Fontaine for approving this,' he thought. It was plain to see that the boy was buckling under the pressure placed on him. With barely more than a month until he took his OWLs two years ahead of schedule, Harry was a bundle of nerves and manic energy.

"Okay, that's thirty minutes. How do you feel?"

"Good. Calmer, I guess."

"Focused?"

Harry grinned. "Sure."

Batisseur nodded, then began to walk him through the proper theory behind the summoning charm. He then emptied a bag of cloudy blue marbles, with a single white one amidst the two dozen. "Maintain your focus, then, and summon the white ball and only the white ball."

Harry studied the single differing marble. Professor Batisseur frequently had him try to use his magic for fine, detailed casting following his focusing exercises. After tucking his hands inside his sleeves (it was November, and Ilvermorny was on a mountaintop, after all), he slowly released the breath he'd been holding. The marble zoomed into the air like it was fired out of a cannon, flying straight towards the Third Year.

Quickly snatching it out of the air before it struck him, Harry rolled it around in his hands before tossing it back into the pile of other marbles at a gesture from Batisseur. "Try it again, please."

Giving a token effort to smother his grin, Harry inhaled through his nose, gently releasing the breath before extending his hand. This time, a barrage of marbles and chunks of dirt and wet leaves pelted him.

"Dammit!"

"You're too volatile, Harry. If your focus is so fleeting now, in the most controlled of circumstances, how well will you be able to perform when the stakes are high?"

"You're right, Professor. I'll try harder this time."

"Actually, I think we should call it a night. I don't think that the chill will benefit your focus, and we've already been outside nearly an hour. Why don't you meet me in my office and I'll have some hot chocolate brought up for us. We can discuss your OWL preparations."

"Okay!" Harry turned back towards the castle.

Batisseur waited until he was out of sight before looking around. "Well?"

Professor Kelly Grayson cancelled her disillusionment charm and stepped forward from the tree she'd rested against. "I think you have got to teach him how to extend his senses outward. Nearly an hour and he never picked up on a third wizard less than ten feet away?"

He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Putting aside the fact I didn't ask you to observe his awareness skills, I doubt that when you were thirteen you were even fractionally as capable as Harry is."

"True enough, but I'm not Harry Potter." She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss, then linked her arm with his to walk back to the castle. "Now do you want to know what I learned, or not?"

"I do."

"When he's at rest, his emotions are fairly normal - for him at least - but as soon as he touches his magic it's like he opens up a train-load of negative energy. I only used passive legilimency, just enough to gather a sense of what he was feeling. The kid's a disaster waiting to happen, Jean."

"Wait, even while he was settled and meditative?" The boy had looked calm and not at all restive.

"Yes. I don't think I want to know what he was thinking about."

"Okay. Anything else notable? Did you read his aura?"

"I feel like I could spend the rest of the year reading his aura while having him do magic in different circumstances. I can't tell you anything about what the spells say because I wouldn't know what to compare it to. There's never been anyone his age with destabilized magic that has the power and command over their abilities like he shows. Makes me think maybe I need to start pushing him a little harder in his Medicine class."

"Kelly… the last thing that Harry needs is more expectations put on him."

They stepped inside the castle doors, exchanging one more parting embrace. "Go ahead, he's waiting for you. I'll see you later tonight."

She walked away towards the Faculty Quarters, while Batisseur made haste to his own office, firing a messenger Patronus to the Pukwudgies asking for two cups of hot chocolate to be sent up.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Harry."

"No worries." They stepped into the Runes Professor's office, barely sitting down before the fireplace flared and a grey skinned arm passed through a tray of two steaming mugs of cocoa.

While Harry sipped his drink, Batisseur asked his plans for Yule Break.

"I'll be sitting my OWLs right before, and into the first week of the holiday break. Then Congressman Butler offered me access to the Magical Archives for-"

"Irving Butler? Why are you associating with that monster?"

"Err, are we talking about the same person? He was General Butler, now he's a Congressman?"

"Yes. Be careful around him, Harry. That man has done horrible things."

Batisseur didn't elaborate, and Harry felt too uncomfortable to ask him to continue. Instead, they both drank their chocolate in silence for several moments.

"And your OWLs? You're ready?"

"As confident as I can be, I suppose. I'm only studying for the requirements - Potions, Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration. Why can't we pick and choose which OWLs we take, like how NEWTs are set up?"

"Well, every core subject is included because the tests are intended to act as an assurance that a wizard or witch is competent enough to enter the wider world if they so choose. It's why a student that passes their OWLs can leave school if they desire and seek employment or an apprenticeship."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And Astronomy is a determinant of that?"

Batisseur's expression didn't change. "Yes. If you'd studied more on that subject, you'd know that lunar and celestial configurations matter a great deal in the cultivation of certain magical plants, and the brewing of many potions."

"Oh." Harry at least had the grace to look abashed. "I've only been studying for Potions and the wanded subjects."

"On the advice of Professor Howe, no doubt."

"Yes. As long as I pass those four, I'm eligible to sit my NEWT in Transfiguration."

"And if you should pass your NEWT, what then?"

Harry's brow creased in confusion. "Well, I would begin my Mastery studies, of course."

"At thirteen."

"I'd be fourteen by then, but yes." He'd finished his hot chocolate, setting the empty mug on the edge of the professor's desk.

"I've spoken to both Professor Howe and the Headmaster about this, but I believe you should reconsider. You're still so young, and so lacking in knowledge about magic."

"That's not what Professor Howe says." Harry was trying hard to not be defensive. "The Mastery students say I'm way ahead of my age group, too."

"In transfiguration, you are. Absolutely. But in no other area. A Mastery is generally five to seven years of in-depth study of a single branch of magic, Harry. Do you really want to be 18 years old and unable to cast a household cleaning charm, or brew even a basic potion?" Batisseur kept his tone gentle, attempting to make his point without upsetting the boy seated across from him.

"Then what's the alternative, huh?" The professor had obviously failed in that attempt. "I can't take normal classes here, because I didn't get any House offers. This Mastery is the only path I have in the MACUSA. I didn't ask to not be able to use a wand, or brew potions, or fly on a broom, or have my fam-" Harry bit off the end of his sentence, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat.

"You could go to Beauxbatons. They have no system of placing students in houses; instead, each year takes classes together and their dormitories are separated only by gender. There are also smaller schools, here in the MACUSA or in South America, that offer education up to OWLs. You could try any one of those." Batisseur paused, then decided to barrel forward. "You're intelligent and gifted, Harry. You deserve better than to finish your schooling with no friends, years behind in general education, and only the knowledge of how to kill and maim."

Harry's green eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed. "Is that all for tonight, Professor?"

"Luna, wait!"

"Hello, Neville."

"This is where you've been spending all your time? The Forbidden Forest is dangerous, you know." He had caught up to her, the light of his lumos washing over the two. "Where is your cloak, Luna? It's freezing out here!"

"The nargles took it. And Harry and I came out here all the time last year."

Neville snorted and shot a wry grin at the Ravenclaw. "Okay, but Harry can be scarier than anything in this Forest, so that's different." He slid his thick woolen cloak off his shoulders and wrapped it around the girl. "There, does that feel better?"

Luna shifted the basket she held from one arm to the other. "Is there something you needed?"

"I wanted to apologize for Ron. He's going to say sorry, himself, but we haven't seen you around since Halloween."

"You said you were my friends, but you didn't act like it."

"Ron's just, well he's just a git sometimes. And after he apologizes, he doesn't have to come around anymore. We can spend time together, just like in the study group last year." Neville winced involuntarily, thinking how - with Hannah dead, Hermione at Beauxbatons, Susan at St. Mungo's, and Harry vanished - he was the last remaining member of their group.

Luna's face, red from the Scottish chill, didn't change from her placid expression. "Maybe. I have to go, a friend is waiting for me."

She turned to leave, but Neville reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her in place. "A friend? In the Forest? You know curfew is in an hour, don't you?."

"Yes, yes, and yes. Let go of me, Neville."

"Maybe I should come with you, just to make sure everything's all righ-"

Luna jerked her arm out of Neville's grasp. "Stop it! I'm not a-, I'm not stupid, or crazy! I don't need someone to make decisions for me, or tell me what's best for me. I'm not handicapped, I'm not mental, and I'm not Loony!" Tears were falling down her cheeks, her silvery eyes sparkling in the light of Neville's charm.

"Luna, I never said you were, I jus-"

"You just want to look after me. That's not all a friend does. Harry listened to me, he respected me, he let me help him. You think of me the same as everyone else does - a crazy girl from a crazy family. The only difference is, you just feel sorry for me. And that's worse."

"I was just trying to make sure you're okay. Harry's gone, Luna! He's not here! I-, look, maybe we don't agree on a lot of things, but that doesn't mean I can't still be there for you. Maybe I'm not perfect, but I'm standing here, right now. Doesn't that count for something?"

She shrugged off his cloak and threw it at him, storming away deeper into the Forest. Stepping into her and Harry's clearing, she set the basket down and wept. A dark shadow crept forward from under the elm tree she normally climbed, letting out a whine and using its cold, wet nose to push at her hands.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be upset. Here, I brought you some meat from the kitchens." She opened the picnic basket, and an array of food under a warming charm immediately steamed in the cold night air. The dog began to gorge itself, gobbling large quantities of the food.

"Easy now, you'll get sick." Luna stroked the fur behind the dog's ears. "I'll make sure to bring more from here on. I eat dinner in the kitchens now, so the elves always offer me more food than I can finish."

The dog licked at her face, its warm tongue cleaning off her tears. "Ew, your breath smells like roast beef!" She giggled in delight, pushing the large animal away. "I was thinking of a name for you. What about Marigold?"

The dog whined piteously and put its paws over its ears.

"I knew you'd love it as much as I do!" Luna hugged the large animal.

For lunch the next day, Harry ate in the mess hall for Mastery students, seeking out a particular person.

"Harry! Decided to dodge the kiddies and eat at the grown-up table, did ya?"

"Hi Wally. Have you seen Sasha around?"

Wally wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Have I ever." When Harry gave him a good-natured shove, he laughed and pointed further down the table. "I think she's eating with Russell. Stop by when you're done with her and I'll quiz you on your Charms, 'kay?"

Harry nodded, and made his way over to the student specializing in History of Magic, squeezing in beside her and making up his plate. "Hey, Sasha, got a minute? I wanted to pick your brain about something."

"Sure, Harry, go ahead." She turned towards him and gave him her full attention.

A little bashful to have someone so attractive stare at him, Harry fumbled for the right words. "I er, I've been exchanging letters with Congressman Butler, and I was wondering if you could tell me more about how he became so respected. Manny mentioned it had to do with something in the 1960s?"

"Oh, you must mean the breach at Alcatraz Island."

"Right, so what's the story on that?"

"Well, the Nomaj were more agitated than usual during that period. They were frequently burning down their own cities, attacking each other in the streets, and apparently even their aurors couldn't control the unrest. Tribals took over a Nomaj prison on Alcatraz Island, along the Pacific coastline."

"Were the Tribals magic users?"

"Not at first. But as the occupation went on, Sioux shamans began to arrive. You have to understand, the Tribals distrust the Nomaj even more than we do, and with good reason."

Harry's limited education in muggle primary school had touched on reasons behind that. "Okay."

"Well, the Nomaj were getting more and more aggressive about taking back Alcatraz, and the Magical Congress began to worry that, if push came to shove, the shamans would breach the Statute in order to defend their people. So General Butler and the 2nd Guards deployed to negotiate the Tribal shamans off the island."

"I'm guessing that it didn't go the way they planned?"

"One of the nonmagical Tribals fired off some weapon and killed one of the aurors that came to the island to speak with the shamans. From there, it evolved into a magical battle. The island was heavily fortified, given its purpose, and because of the Nomaj government's besiegement, there wasn't room for a separate, magical siege. The 2nd Guards had to infiltrate the prison, bring down the wards, and launch an immediate assault, all within a single day."

Harry listened attentively, and waited for her to continue. "General Butler was in the first wave that attacked after the wards dropped. It was a fierce battle, and much of it took place in close proximity to Nomaj authorities. That there wasn't a major breach just speaks to the skill and strategy that the aurors used. Even so, over a quarter of the 2nd Guards died taking the island. It was the largest magical battle fought on MACUSA soil in the 20th century."

"I see. Thanks, Sasha."

"Any time. Manny mentioned to me you might come asking me about things, given your interest in the Great Burning."

"Ah, right. I hadn't realized that there were still attacks on witches and wizards in the 1800s."

Sasha leaned in close, her expression one of great intensity. "There are still attacks on witches and wizards in the 1990s, Harry. We keep trying to tell you, Nomaj are a grave threat."

"In Salem, the records say that witch trials were outlawed in Europe and the United States by the early 1700s, though."

Several students eavesdropping on their conversation scoffed and made noises of derision. "They claim that," Sasha said, "But the attacks still happen with a frightening regularity. The Ghost has a reporter whose sole job is to track when Nomaj murder a wizard or witch - and it's usually witches - and you wouldn't believe how often it happens*. Earlier this year, a Russian witch was stoned to death, and nearly a hundred magicals have been killed in East Africa this last decade."

"But… we're so much more powerful than they are."

"You are, definitely. But a lot of wizards struggle with offensive and defensive magic; let's face it, there's not much daily use for it. I know you have a hard time believing it, it's written all over your face. But there's more that separate Nomaj and wizards than just our ability to use magic. They're dangerous, Harry. It's like treating a Wampus as a housecat. Watch out."

December 9, 1993

"Blimey, Nev, I'm freezing my stones off out here. Why couldn't we wait for her inside?"

"You know how hard it can be to find her in the castle. She comes out here most nights, just man up and quit complaining."

"Can you cast another warming charm on Scabbers, at least?"

"Why are you carrying your rat around?" Neville asked, but pulled out his wand and complied with Ron's request. They'd been waiting at the edge of the Forbidden Forest for close to thirty minutes. "Now shut it. You've put this off long enough, and you better be nice about it, understand?"

"Yea, yea. And Scabbers hasn't been looking well lately, I thought the fresh air migh- Oh, is that her?"

"I think so. Luna?"

"Hello Neville, Ronald."

"Listen, Luna, I'm real sorry for what I said on Halloween. Sometimes I can be a real berk, and you've never done anything to me to deserve that. I hope we can move past this and be friends."

"It's fine."

"Say, whaddya have in that basket? Something smells great!" Ron, predictably, noticed Luna's package.

"It's for my friend. Oh, there he is now! Hullo Marigold, these are some of my school friends!"

"He? Marigold?"

An enormous black dog came bounding from the woods, knocking Ron to the ground and tearing at his cloak with sharp teeth.

"Ron!"

"He's got Scabbers! Stop him, Nev!"

"Marigold! Bad dog!"

The black dog barely made it a half dozen paces before the rat, growing and changing shape, fell out of its mouth, leaving a paunchy man in its place. Moments later, "Marigold" transformed as well, assuming the features of a man familiar to anyone that had read the Prophet in the last several months.

"Stubby Boardman?"

Neville grabbed Luna and pushed her towards some nearby brush. "Run and hide, Luna! That's Sirius Black. He betrayed Harry's parents."

Not removing his eyes from the short, hairy man, Sirius snarled out, "I betrayed no one! This coward was the one that sold out James and Lily. Hello, Peter."

"Sirius! Uh, I can explain-" he turned towards the students. "Ron, you have to help me, I've been hiding from him for years-"

Sirius advanced towards him, carrying a knife, only for Peter to whip out a white wand. "Stay back! Don't come any closer!"

"What are you going to do, Wormtail? You never had the stones to cast a Killing Curse. Too much of a coward to even muster any hatred." Sirius had slowed, but continued his march forward. "And you should know that anything short of an Avada won't kill me fast enough to save your wretched skin. It's over."

Peter, or Wormtail, or whoever shifted the orientation of the yew wand he held, and with a whisper of "Percutio" shot a Piercing Curse directly towards Luna.

Two shouts of "No!" rang out, and before he could think twice about it Neville stepped in front of the spell.

The impact was strong, but nothing like the force that Quirrell's bludgeoner had hit him with in First Year. He looked over at Ron, almost in disbelief that this strange man had miscast his spell, when he felt a dribble of liquid slip down his chin.

"Wh-" As Neville opened his mouth, the flow increased and he slid to the ground, blood pouring out of the hole in his abdomen.

Luna and Ron both screamed, witnessing his fall, and Sirius turned around. The moment his eyes left Peter, the short man transformed back to a rat and scurried away.

"Dammit!" Sirius transformed as well, but before he could give chase, the small blonde Ravenclaw stood in his path.

"Help us, please. Ron can't carry Neville back to the castle by himself, and he can't die saving me!"

Sirius looked back at the young boy, seeing so much of Alice Longbottom in his face. He transformed back into a man, walked over to where the redhead was trying to drag Neville and scooped the boy up mid-stride, walking quickly back to the castle, and his own death.

'I'm sorry, James.'

Amelia Bones, more furious than she'd been in years, stepped out of the floo to absolute pandemonium. She'd been at St. Mungo's in Susan's room when Scrimgeour's emergency Patronus reached her. It didn't take much in the way of deduction for her niece to guess that she'd be leaving for a dangerous situation.

"Director." Her Head Auror was waiting in the Hospital WIng, Shacklebolt and Dawlish standing guard over a restrained Black, and Augusta's grandson being treated by Madam Pomfrey. "Quite a mess we've got on our hands."

"It'd damn well better be for you to send me a message like that when I'm visiting my niece."

"Ah," Rufus winced, but continued his report. "Well, we've interrogated Black and two of the kids that were with him. He claims Pettigrew is alive and is responsible for the Potter's betrayal. Weasley and Lovegood confirm there was a second man, who transformed back and forth into Weasley's pet rat."

"A rat animagus was the real traitor? This sounds like a drama right off the Wireless, Scimgeour."

"Tell me about it. Black's an animagus too, by the way. A dog of some kind. Problem is, the other man got away - leaving us with one man driven mad by Azkaban, the daughter of a lunatic who looks to be following in his footsteps, and the youngest son of an impoverished line. It's not exactly an airtight confirmation of events."

"Longbottom's going to make it?"

"He will. Took a Piercing Curse in the chest, but Black brought him in for treatment."

"Wait, Black turned himself in?"

"Yes, the two men were having a standoff, the other man shot a curse at the girl, Longbottom stepped in front of it."

"Merlin's beard."

"Like I said, quite a mess."

"For now, take him to the DMLE. Have Shacklebolt pull a double shift and sit outside that cell. No one but me has access, understood?"

"Got it."

"Before you go, tell Dawlish to stay here and take Longbottom's statement once he comes around. Compare it to the other two, and send them all to me. I'll go and brief Fudge."

The next morning, Lucius Malfoy apparated to his front gate following a flurry of announcing charms. "How surprising, that you would show up here of all places."

"Lucius, you've got to help me. Sirius Black found me and chased me from Hogwarts!" Peter said.

"Yes, the Minister and I heard quite a tale about your miraculous resurrection last night. Why are you here, though?"

"I need your help. If you can get me out of the country safely, I can return with the Dark Lord-"

Lucius' attention fully zeroed in on Pettigrew. "What do you know of the Dark Lord's whereabouts?"

He nervously licked his lips. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors of a dark forest in Albania. I believe our master is there, waiting for one of us to return to him."

"I may be able to help you after all."

Pettigrew fell to his knees in relief. "Oh, thank you Lucius! You don't know how hard it's been, all these ye-" Peter collapsed face-first onto the ground as the silent stupefy hit him. Lucius levitated Pettigrew with a swish and flick, and walked inside his ward line.

After he'd traveled roughly a quarter mile into his expansive grounds, Lucius searched Pettigrew's pockets, removing the familiar yew wand. He then cast a sticking charm, propping Pettigrew against a tree, followed by a Reductor curse that blew out his chest cavity. Making sure to release the sticking charm, Lucius apparated back to his manor, had a wonderful lunch with Narcissa, then made a firecall to the DMLE.

It was just too easy when the solutions to his problems literally knocked on his door like this.

December 16, 1993

Magical Britain had once more been turned entirely on its head. From Sirius Black's capture at Hogwarts, spurring calls from the Prophet for an immediate Dementor's Kiss for the escaped convict; followed by the shocking discovery of Peter Pettigrew being killed while attempting to take Narcissa Malfoy hostage, public attitudes were flying back and forth like a bludger at a quidditch match.

The Minister gave a public address before a full session of the Wizengamot, officially apologizing for the miscarriage of justice that resulted in Sirius Black not receiving a trial for the murder of Peter Pettigrew. He was officially pardoned, and received a small lump sum, matched by a donation from Lucius Malfoy for 'bringing to light the injustices seen at the end of that troubled period.'

By the time Hogwarts students boarded the Express to head home for Yule Break, measures were already being proposed in the Wizengamot to move all convicted Death Eaters out of the High Security Wing at Azkaban, until all of their cases could be reopened to look for other potential breakdowns in the trials following the end of the Civil War.

December 21, 1993

Harry stepped out of the examination room and stretched for almost a full minute. Pass or fail, it was over. His practicals had been a mixture of 'walk in the park' (Transfiguration) and 'abject embarrassment' (Potions); the theory had been difficult, but not overwhelming.

Manny and Wally were waiting outside of the testing room, knowing that today was his final OWL. "You guys didn't have to come after every test, not that I don't appreciate it."

Wally slapped him on the back. "Hey, we'll be telling our grandkids about how with our help, The-Boy-Who-Lived passed his OWLs two years early."

"That, and we know you're meeting with the Congressman later today. If he happens to mention needing a talented wizard, be sure to mention my name."

"We brought your trunk. When's your portkey set to activate?" Wally hefted the wheeled trunk, offering the handle to Harry.

"Thanks guys, really. It won't be too much longer. Want to walk me to the gates?"

"I can't, Professor Howe is expecting me; we need to plan out our next experiment for when you come back."

"I can't either, kiddo. I asked Sasha to dinner and dancing in Lyman Hall-" he paused, allowing both Harry and Manny to let out exclamations of surprise, "-so I'll need to shower and look as dapper as I can."

Manny laughed. "Better hurry, or that love potion you surely must have slipped her'll wear off."

"Yea, yea you're both hilarious. Congrats again. Happy Yule Harry, you too, Jimenez."

The two older boys walked away, and Harry walked to the gates of Ilvermorny alone. Most of the other students that were leaving today had already portkeyed out, but the gates remained open for any stragglers. Harry stepped outside of the gates, held onto his necklace, and really hoped that Sam was standing still and on a flat surface. He activated the portkey and vanished.

On the Hogwarts Express, Luna lowered her Quibbler to peer at the shadow outside her compartment door. A few seconds passed, and then the door opened to reveal Neville.

"Mind if I share your compartment?"

Luna nodded, quietly watching as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "I know I said it before, but thank you for stepping in front of that curse."

"Don't mention it; it's the kind of thing that friends do for each other."

The two of them shared a genuine smile, and they spent the rest of the ride working together on the rune puzzle in the Quibbler.

Sam and Harry walked into the National Archives, immediately spotting Congressman Butler and another man waiting for them.

Harry put on his 'Lockhart-smile', extending his hand to Butler. "Thank you so much for allowing us to visit such an impressive institution, Congressman. Allow me to introduce my uncle, Sam Chambers."

"Hello, sir." It's fair to say Sam was a bit less at ease.

"Harry! No thanks are necessary, this is twice now you've gotten me out of New York City, which in my book means that I'm the one that owes you. Gentleman, this is the MACUSA's Chief Archivist, Franklin MacDonald." The man was tall and overweight, with numerous ink stains on his robes. "He's been told to allow you full access to the Archives, outside of classified government data, of course."

"That's very generous of you, Congressman. My Uncle, in particular, has talked of little else this last month."

"Well, I'll let you get to it. Harry, if you don't mind, I'd like to meet for a chat before you leave D.C. You're planning to leave in four days, is that correct?" At Harry's affirmative, Butler continued, "Excellent. I'll pick you up from here Saturday morning, then. Your uncle can have a few more hours of research before you head home."

"I'm looking forward to it already, Congressman."

The Chief Archivist looked distinctly unhappy to be leading a tour. "Well, as the Congressman said, I am Franklin McDonald. You can refer to me as 'Chief Archivist'. Is there a particular area of research you'd like to begin in?"

"Transfiguration." Sam and Harry replied in sync.

"Allow me to rephrase. The Magical Archives contains precisely seven hundred thousand, five hundred and thirty-two texts. That's not counting government documents, reports, maps, charts, and reams of arithmantic calculations, which easily number double the amount of books. To tell me "Transfiguration" would be akin to if we went to a zoo and you said you wished to see 'animals'."

"I, uh, didn't realize."

McDonald sighed. "It's all right. I was pulled away from a fascinating transcription, excuse my manners. You're interested in transfiguration; well, we have sections on inanimate to inanimate, inanimate to animate, animated to inanimate, animated to animated, conjuration, conjuration to transfiguration, human transfiguration, and the Three Laws. There's more, of course, but that should provide an illustration of the sort of indexing we use."

"I'd like to see your materials on conjuration to transfiguration, Chief Archivist."

"Very well, follow me." Harry sat down with a stack of books taller than he was, and the Archivist waited patiently for Sam to relay his interest.

"I was wondering, Chief Archivist, is there any ancient, or secret magic? Something you discovered that other wizards might not have access to?"

McDonald raised his eyebrows, but held back his smirk. "What exactly would the benefit be to hide such knowledge?"

"Well if you have a spell or ability that no one else knows about-"

"Let me stop you right there. There are certain fields of magic that are kept under lock and key, not because they are a secret weapon, but because they pose inherent dangers to the Statute of Secrecy. But magical knowledge is proprietary. Hoarding it in secret is not a very profitable strategy; far better to sell it or license its use and earn patent royalties, which the ICW strictly enforces. I daresay there is little that you would learn in these Archives that is not known in your homeland."

"Oh." The disappointment he felt was palpable. "But what if there was a recent discovery? Like a chamber in an Egyptian tomb or something similar?"

"Magical archaeological sites pop up now and again, and are usually stumbled upon by Nomaj initially. When one is found in North America, we have a special operations auror squad that sanitizes the dig site of any magical artifacts, replacing them with transfigured replicas. The Nomaj get their trinkets to display, and we get the artifacts."

"And those are shared, too?"

"Something has to pay the bills, Mr. Chambers."

"Right. Well, I guess I'll start with offensive curses."

"We have several areas that meet that specification…"

Over the next several days, Sam dived into his research with an intensity he hadn't felt since the first days of graduate school. Harry quickly wore out, given he'd just finished his OWLs after a semester of intense study, but Sam stayed at the Archives from open until close, leaving Harry to explore Washington, D.C. alone.

It was Christmas day, their last in D.C., when Harry met with Congressman Butler at the entrance to the Archives once more. Sam, knowing he only had a few hours, was trying to iron out a few ideas he had with his remaining time.

"Come along, there's a place for wizards nearby." The two walked a half-dozen blocks, arriving at a nondescript door to what several signs pointed to as a bail-bonds business. "Welcome to the Broken Wand, Harry."

Butler opened the door and led him into an exquisitely decorated bar. Cherry wood tabletops, jackalope leather seats, a copper-plated bar, and finely cut crystal glassware were all on display. "Normally, you'd need an auror badge to enter this place. It's something of a private club. Thankfully for us, however, it doesn't open until 5 p.m., and I know the bartender."

Harry sat down at a barstool, Butler taking the seat next to his and motioning for the bartender to approach. "Cliff, a bottle of High West and a glass, along with whatever Harry would like, if you would."

"What'll ya have, sir?"

Harry looked around the bar. "Another tumbler, please." Butler laughed uproariously.

The bartender pulled a tall, narrow bottle of whiskey off the shelf, and set it on the bar, along with two angular tumblers and a carafe of ice. "Is there anything else, gentlemen?"

Butler placed a small stack of Galleons on the bar and opened the bottle. "That'll be all, thank you." He poured them each two fingers' worth, watching as Harry dropped several pieces of ice into his glass. While they prepared their drinks, the bartender layered silencing and perimeter wards along with anti-eavesdropping charms before departing into the rear of the establishment.

"Wouldn't have anticipated you were much of a drinker, Harry."

The teenager made a face, remembering the last time he'd sat in a bar. "'Somebody goes through what you have, they need a drink'. Or at least, that's how it was told to me."

"Wise words, and ones I'll drink to." They clinked glasses and sipped their whiskey.

"So what's this about, Congressman?"

"Your 'uncle' has been looking up some particularly nasty things at the Archives."

"I suppose it was too much to expect that 'unfettered' access would also translate to 'unobserved' as well."

"You remind me a lot of myself, Harry. What worries me, though, is that I am saying that to a thirteen year old boy."

"Not to be disrespectful, but if this is the part where you tell me about the power of compassion again-"

"Is it really so unbearable to listen to?"

Harry played with the glass in his hands, tipping the amber liquid to and fro, clinking the ice cubes against the sides of the glass. "Honestly? Yes."

"I'm not certain how much you've studied the MACUSA's modern history; I suppose we'll have an answer to that once you get your OWL results. Do you know about how I came to be so famous?"

"It was the occupation of Alcatraz, wasn't it?"

Butler raised an eyebrow. "Either Ilvermorny's Third Year curriculum has vastly improved, or you've been checking up on me. That's right. I asked you here so I could tell you about what happened, but apparently you're ahead of the game. Why don't you tell me what you know, instead, and I'll fill in the blanks."

So it was that Harry Potter found himself drinking whiskey at a D.C. bar with a Magical Congressman at lunch time, relaying the information that Sasha had given him.

"An almost textbook recitation. Well done." Butler poured himself a double and leaned forward, almost hunched over his glass. "First off, I should tell you that the auror that was killed, the one sent with the negotiating party, was my son. He was only 19 years old, fulfilling his service year just out of Ilvermorny." He paused to take a drink. "The 2nd Guards Battalion are elites, shock troops if you will. I'd pulled some strings so that he could serve with his old man. A veteran would have known to cast the Imperturbable Charm on their robes whenever entering Nomaj spaces. If I hadn't used my influence and my position, he'd have spent his service year obliviating Nomaj with the 7th Auror's Brigade."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Butler continued as though Harry hadn't spoken. "Of course, none of that occurred to me until months later. No, on that island, all I knew was that my boy was dead, and that it was the Tribals that did it. I've never felt such rage. The history books left that part out. Negotiation was still on the table. I pretended I was still interested in a peaceful resolution. That's how my team got on the island to destroy their wardstone. What followed was indeed a battle, but a one-sided one. We killed every Sioux magical in the MACUSA that day. The Tribals had herded their Nomaj into one cell block, and their shamans made their stand in the prison cafeteria. Have you ever seen Tribal magic, Harry?"

"No sir." He said, quietly.

"It's impressive in its own way, but it is slow, cumbersome, and poorly suited for close quarters combat. Certainly no match for silent blasting charms and explosion hexes. Men, women, children. Every one of them struck Magical Congress felt that it might reflect poorly on our aurors if it was known how one-sided the battle was, and so our casualty numbers were inflated. Besides my son, only three of my men died."

Harry, having hit his limit at 'one', pushed his glass away. "Why are you telling me this?"

"That look on your face, when you were waiting for your offers at Ilvermorny… It reminded me so much of the face that stared back at me in the mirror hours before I gave the order to offer no quarter. Whatever you're planning, Harry, you're going to lose as much of yourself as you take away from them. Take it from someone who knows."

"So, what, turn the other cheek? That's no comfort to the dead."

"Isn't it, though? How many more Harry Potters are you planning to create? I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if today is the day that some Tribal decides to avenge the Sioux. Vengeance is self-perpetuating, Harry. There's no such thing as 'simple' revenge."

Harry was pensive, jaw clenched. "What about justice, then? Don't the dead deserve that?"

Butler poured himself another drink. "Ask yourself if that's what you're really after. If the people that killed your family turned themselves into the aurors tomorrow, would you be satisfied? Content to allow the wheels of your judicial system decide their fates?" Harry didn't respond. "I didn't think so."

The Congressman stood, taking Harry's empty glass and walking behind the bar to place it in the sink. "Get a bit of alcohol into old men and they start thinking they've got wisdom to share. You should get back to the Archives and collect your companion. Here," lifting up a cocktail napkin, he spoke the incantation for a portkey and handed it to Harry. "That will take you to Lyman Hall in ninety minutes."

"Sir, I appreciate what you told me. And I'm sorry for your loss." A nod was the only reply that Harry received. He made his way to the exit and hurried back to the Archives.

"Drinking with politicians. If this is your teenage rebellion, I have to say, you're doing it in style."

"Give it a rest, will you? So where's your place?"

"In Somerville, only about six stops on the T. Reminds you of London a bit, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so." Harry was quiet, reliving the many times he'd ridden the train with Norm and Diane. He'd been able to think of little else since he left the Broken Wand. They rode the subway north, across the river, and after getting out at their stop it was only a short walk to Sam's apartment.

"Er, it's not much, sorry. And I didn't do any decorating this year. And, uh, I don't have any gifts. Shite. I'm sorry, Harry."

"It's okay, really."

"I know a Chinese takeout place that delivers. Let me order us some dinner, then we can have a talk." Harry set his school trunk down near the kitchenette, and started to stack some of the books that covered every inch of the table while Sam placed the order. They chatted idly about Ilvermorny, and Sam's workplace while they waited for the food to arrive, and then ate a quiet Christmas dinner.

"You're sure you don't want me to sleep on the couch?"

"It's fine, Sam, quit worrying." Whether it was the whiskey, the portkey travel, or Butler's words, Harry felt physically and emotionally exhausted.

"Hey, before you fall asleep, there's some things I wanted to talk about."

"What's up?"

"You like Ilvermorny, right?"

"Sure, it's fine."

"But, what I'm saying is that you're doing well there. How many 13-year old Mastery students have there been, after all?"

"I still have to pass my NEWT, Sam."

"Right, right. It just got me thinking, what if, uh, what if we didn't go back?"

Harry sat straight up on the couch, weariness forgotten. "What?"

Sam didn't look at Harry, instead focusing on the takeout containers still on the kitchen table. "You could have a normal life here; well, as normal as it gets for Harry Potter. Become some world-renowned Transfigurationist or something, write more books, and live well. We could live well. I'm not as good at it as Norm and Diane were, but I-, we could give it a shot as a family."

Harry looked searchingly at Sam, who still wouldn't meet his eyes. Stay in the MACUSA? What was it with everyone lately? 'Maybe they see something I don't,' he thought, looking around Sam's apartment. 'Still nicer than the Dursley's.' Maybe, just maybe, Norm and Diane could forgive him fo-

Harry suddenly jerked upwards, like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He was gasping like he couldn't breathe, his skin turning gray and his eyes dulling. It felt like something was shredding the fiber of his being, from the inside out.

"Harry? Harry?! Shite, what's the number for emergency in this fucking country! Hold on, Harry!"

He heard Sam's frantic voice, but it seemed so far away. His vision was graying, this terrible pain lancing through every cell in his body. 'No,' he thought, unable to muster even a vehement outcry in his mind, 'It wasn't supposed to end like this. Can't die, without finishing them first!'

And just like that, with that thought, the pressure eased. His color returned, and this time when he gasped, he could actually breathe. "Sam," Harry croaked, "I'm fine, hang up the phone."

"Uh, yes, looks like he was just choking on some food, sorry for the trouble." Sam slammed the phone down and crouched next to Harry. "Jesus, are you okay? I was terrified! What happened?"

"I don't know. One minute I was thinking about your offer, and the next it felt like, like-" 'It felt like First Year, when my magic was shutting down my body,' he realized. The pieces all began to fall into place.

/ The flash of light in Norm and Diane's apartment after their murder /

/ The immediate change of his magic, from placid to roiling /

/ The same flash of light when he agreed to the vow with Perrault /

/ The healer warning of the danger in nonspecific magical oaths /

"Harry? Are you okay? What is it?"

"I'm all right now. You can stay here, Sam, but I'm going back. Not now, but soon."

Sam looked resigned, and guilty. "I understand, Harry."

"No, you don't." His eyes were shimmering with barely suppressed magical energy. "I made a promise, and I'm not going to break it."

* I actually looked up the wikipedia article on witchcraft, and yea, people still burn/beat/stone witches all over the world. The Russian story I mentioned happened in the late 90s, not the early 90s. Pretty sad stuff.

A/N: Harry finally realizes just what is happening to him. A few of my reviewers guessed this twist, which I was pretty proud of.

Since last time I had a 'big reveal' I did Q & A with myself, this time I thought I'd leave some factoids:

Irving Butler is based off Smedley Butler, a U.S. General who was an incredible man. Read his Wikipedia page, there should be statues of this guy all over America.

I've joined some discord writing channels, including one run by the author from "Harry Potter and the International Triwizard Tournament. Nice to bounce ideas off folks.

The whole time I was writing the scene at the Broken Wand, I kept trying to resist having one of them say the words "Simple Act of Vengeance". NO TITULAR LINES haha!

If any of you enjoy whiskey, High West is an amazing brand. Take it from a former bartender!

Next chapter, we'll find out the OWL results and check in with Susan, Sirius, and the British Bunch.. Third Year is nearly over. Not entirely sure that I'll be able to get it out before I move at the end of the month, so you may have to wait until the start of July.

I'm also going to go through and send some PMs to my more frequent reviewers. You guys really do give me inspiration to keep writing, so thank you very much. As always, I am extremely humbled by the fact that you find my work entertaining. It makes me legitimately happy.

Be safe, be well, stay healthy and happy - Frickles