The next week proved to be the longest of Harry's life. Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping him through the weekend, and the days that followed seemed to drag with a slowness that Harry had never experienced before. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, Thursday evening came. Harry hurried through his dinner, eating with such a ferocity that he was barely even chewing. He had barely enough to fill him, before he bade Ron and Hermione goodbye, and he took off for the fourth floor. He took the stairs two at a time, and was not even trying to contain his excitement as he came to a sliding stop in front of the door to the History of Magic classroom, and burst into the room.
"Good evening, Harry," Said Professor Jackson. He was sitting, as usual, propped up on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. Professor Lupin, looking considerably healthier and in better spirits than when Harry had last seen him, was propped up on a large chest beside the desk.
"Professors," Harry greeted a large grin on his face as he closed the door behind him, Professor Lupin gave him a wan smile.
"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing at the chest Professor Lupin was sitting on. The Defense teacher stood up,
"A boggart," He answered simply, "Since your boggart will transform itself into a dementor, it makes for the perfect target for practice."
"It will, sir?" Harry asked, and Professor Lupin gave him a small smile,
"You're forgetting your first lesson Harry. A reminder then, a boggart will not only take the shape of the thing you fear the most. But it will actually become, what you fear the most. That means that it truly will become a dementor, effects and all."
"Oh," Harry said, unsure what else to say,
"So, Harry," Said Professor Jackson as he pushed off the desk, "Like I said before, the spell we will be teaching you is incredibly complex. In fact, most fully grown magicals have a difficult time with it, but I have the utmost confidence in you to get it down," He gave Harry a proud and reassuring grin, one that Harry was able to return.
"The spell," Professor Lupin said, "Is called the Patronus Charm. When it works properly, it works as something of an anti-dementor. A guardian of sorts, that acts as a shield between you and the dementor."
Harry was struck with the image of a giant, Hagrid sized creature holding a baseball bat, beating a dementor into the ground.
"The Patronus is a force of pure, positive energy." Professor Jackson continued, "It works off the very things that a dementor feeds upon. To conjure a Patronus, requires you to focus the feelings of pure love, joy, happiness, safety, and protection. Do you remember our talk of magical theory this summer?" He asked and Harry nodded,
"Good," Professor Jackson nodded, "Then this will make a bit more sense. The easiest way to learn how to cast a Patronus, is to find a memory. The single happiest memory you can think of. Focus on the way you were feeling in the memory, and focus on the feelings I just described. Then transfer those feelings into your magic. Remember, Harry, it's all about intent."
"Right," Said Harry determinately, "So do all Patronus' look like a wolf?"
Professor Jackson shrugged, "They're different depending on the caster. They tend to manifest as something personal to you. They manifest your innermost feelings."
"So why is yours a wolf, sir?" Harry asked, and Professor Jackson gave him a particularly feral grin.
"Wolves are rather loyal creatures. They fight fiercely for their pack, and are absurdly protective of what they view as theirs. But above all, a wolf is a hunter." He finished, and Harry wasn't sure he liked the rather manic gleam in his eye.
"The incantation," Said Professor Lupin, getting the discussion back on topic "Is Expecto Patronum,"
"Got it," Harry said, repeating the words under his breath.
"Focusing on your happy memory?" Professor Lupin asked, and Harry nodded. He was focusing hard on the time when Hagrid had first told him he was a wizard. That he belonged to something, and that he was going to leave the Dursley's.
"Ok," Said Professor Jackson, "When you think you have it, cast the spell." Harry nodded, and focused hard. He was thinking hard on the feelings of hope, happiness, and excitement he'd felt, and he raised his wand.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He roared, and he forced everything he'd been feeling when he'd discovered who he was into his spell. A jet of something silver, something enormous, burst from the tip of his wand. He felt a warmth blaze over him, the likes of which he'd never felt before. He felt safe, and comfortable. As though he were trapped in the warm embrace of someone who loved him. The silver mist faded, and Harry felt slightly drained, but he had a happy smile on his face.
"Damn," Professor Jackson whistled, looking deeply impressed, looking at the spot where Harry's spell had disappeared. He turned an excited look on Harry.
"All that extra training seems to have been paying off, huh?" He said with a laugh, "That was a hell of a lot better than my first attempt."
Harry let out a slightly tired laugh.
"Well done, Harry, exceptionally well done." Professor Lupin clapped, looking very pleased. "I admit, I was apprehensive at first. This charm is immensely complex and I was concerned you might be too young to cast it. But you seem to have inherited your mother's talent for charms. For you to do so well, speaks to a lot of raw talent."
Harry felt himself flush slightly under the praise, and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head.
"Don't get too overconfident now, though," Professor Jackson warned, though he was still smiling, "It's one thing to cast a patronus when there is nothing in the room to fight against. I'll be honest, I didn't think we'd be getting to actually facing a dementor tonight, but after seeing that, I want to see how you do. We'll wait a bit for you to get back your strength, and then we'll face the dementor."
They waited for about five minutes, then, when Harry felt that he was fully recovered, Professor Lupin approached the trunk, which was shaking rather violently.
"Now it's important to remember," Professor Lupin was lecturing, "That when the dementor appears, it will be doing everything in its power to try and keep you from focusing on your happy feelings. That is why the memory can be so important. Keep a hold of your happy memory. Make sure you hang on tightly to the feelings you were experiencing. This will take a tremendous amount of will power, and will be even harder than before. Are you ready?"
Harry nodded, and readied himself, he was focusing on his feelings, but couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that was threatening to overwhelm him. Any moment, he would be hearing his mother's voice once more. Would hear her screams, and her pleadings for mercy for his life.
"Ready?" Professor Lupin asked, bent over the trunk, and Harry nodded, "3…2….1…" He released the latches and the trunk flew open. One skeletal hand reached out of the trunk, gripping the edges. The candles around the room were all extinguished, as the familiar cold washed over Harry. The dementor slowly pulled itself out of the trunk, its hooded head coming free. Harry took a shaking step back as his grip on his wand tightened. The dementor was fully free of the trunk, gliding slowly towards Harry. In the back of his mind, Harry could hear the start of his mother's screaming. He tried to block it out, tried to focus on his happy memory.
"Expecto Patronum" He said, but his voice came out weak, and no jet of silver came out of his wand. He took another step back and tried again, but the spell refused to work. His mother's screaming grew louder, he heard Voldemort's high-pitched cackling, heard his mother pleading for Harry's life. He felt his vision begin to go dark, but before he could lose consciousness, he saw Professor Lupin leap in front of the dementor. There was a loud 'CRACK' and the dementor disappeared. All at once, light returned to the room, and the screaming in Harry's mind began to fade. Looking up, Harry focused on the floating silver object in front of Lupin.
There was something familiar there…if Harry were coherent, he would swear that-
Professor Lupin waved his wand and the silver sphere flew back into the empty trunk, which closed with a click.
Harry fell to the floor, panting heavily. He felt a firm grip push him into a sitting position. He was vaguely aware of someone pushing a bar of chocolate into his hand. Without really thinking about it, he pulled the bar to his lips and took a large bite. Warmth spread throughout his body and his vision started clearing.
"Harry," He heard Professor Jackson say, giving his shoulder a small shake, "You with us?"
Harry started slightly, and turned to look at Professor Jackson who was regarding him intently.
"Yeah," Harry said, his voice shaking slightly. "Yeah, I'm-I'm ok." He shook his head. "That was…"
"Like Remus said, it's far more difficult when you're facing an actual dementor. But that was a very good first attempt Harry. Very good."
"B-but, I-" Harry tried to say, but Professor Jackson cut him off,
"Harry I didn't honestly expect you to do it your first time," Professor Jackson said with a laugh, "You're good for your age, but no one, not even Dumbledore, is that good. Come on, up you get," He wrapped a hand under Harry's arm and pulled him to his feet.
Harry allowed himself to get to pulled to his feet.
"You might wish to try with a different memory, Harry. That was a strong memory, but perhaps not quite strong enough." Professor Lupin mused, and Harry nodded. He hadn't been able to concentrate at all on the feelings when the screaming started.
"Remember Harry," Reminded Professor Jackson, "Safety, protection, joy, love, happiness. Those are the feelings that you need to associate. Your dementor is a guardian, and it thrives on your feelings of feeling safe and loved." Harry nodded and began thinking. His mind went back to the Chamber, to the moment when he saw Professor Jackson's friends were there. How he'd never felt so relieved, so safe, and as though everything were going to get better.
"All right, we'll take a few minutes for your energy to come back and try again."
After Harry had recovered enough, he readied himself and Professor Lupin opened the trunk again. Like before, cold washed over the room, and the lights went out. Harry clenched his jaw tight as he steadied himself. He was focusing as hard as he could on seeing Rebecca, Camila, Sarah, and Anna coming to his aid down in the Chamber and killing the basilisk. He basked in the feeling of safety they'd given him. The sounds of screaming threatened to overwhelm him again, but he screwed up his concentration as best he could and tried to block out the sounds,
"Expecto Patronum!" He shouted, and unlike before, something did shoot out of his wand. A thin, silver jet shot out the tip of his wand, straight at the dementor. The dementor halted into its advance as the silver mist formed a small protective shield. However, it wasn't enough, the dementor swiped through the shield as though it were nothing more than a mere annoyance, and kept up its advanced. Harry tried the spell again, and again only a weak stream of mist came out of his wand.
The screaming was getting louder, his vision clouding…
'CRACK'
The dementor vanished, and its place was Camila, though at the same time it wasn't. Her hair was matted, and there was make-up running down her cheeks and she was crying. Harry bit back a scream; her chest was open, as though something had exploded from her insides. Harry could see the cavernous ruins of her innards, as her heart pumped slowly, exposed to the world.
"Why'd you do it, Percy?" She asked, her head tilted to one side, "Why did you fail us too? Why couldn't you save us? You were the Hero. You could save the gods but couldn't even save your friends?"
'CRACK'
It was Anna, there was a wooden stake in his chest and she was holding her dismembered head in her hands,
"You couldn't save Annabeth. You couldn't save Grover. You couldn't save us. You couldn't even save your own mother. Why are you so weak любимый?"
'CRACK'
It was Sarah, her throat was slashed and blood was polling down her front,
"Why can you never save anyone? Why does everyone you love die? You just put us all in danger Percy."
'CRACK'
Rebecca appeared. Her four legs were snapped, and there was a noose around her neck,
"We trusted you. We trusted you and you failed us. You failed us like you failed everyone else. What would Annabeth say if she saw how pathetic you've become? What would-"
"Riddikulus," Professor Jackson said calmly, and there was another 'CRACK' and the boggart vanished inside the trunk again, which Professor Lupin shut with a click.
Professor Jackson's knuckles were tight around the handle of his wand, and he was breathing heavily.
"I really hate those damn things," He growled, before turning to Harry. "That was a much better attempt that time Harry,"
Harry just stared at him, his own worries about the dementor forgotten. What on earth had that been all about? Harry supposed it wasn't surprising that Professor Jackson's greatest fears would involve seeing his friends die, but what all that about failure? And he could save the gods but not his friends? What did that mean?
"Harry," Said Professor Jackson, snapping his fingers in front of Harry's eyes, and a worried look on his face. "Harry, you ok?"
"Yeah," Harry said quickly. He wanted to ask about Professor Jackson's boggart, but he was scared of upsetting the man. Harry had already been told off once for prying into Professor Jackson's past, and he didn't want to get told off again. But still, and as grim as it was, Professor Jackson's boggart had given Harry an idea. A memory that was fresh, and so strong he knew he'd be able to fend off at least a hundred demeanors with it.
"Yes, sir. I'm ok. Do you-do you think we could try one more time? I think I can do it; I used a good memory that time. But I think I can really do it this time. Please sir?" Harry asked. Professor Jackson looked conflicted for a moment, and shared a look with Professor Lupin who also looked apprehensive, but eventually, he nodded at Harry.
"All right, one more time, and then we're done for the night. You've already made far more progress than I was expecting us to make tonight," Harry gave him a grin and readied himself. When the dementor climbed out of the trunk, Harry was ready for it. His mind jumping back to only a few days previous. On how Ron and Hermione had been there for him. How he'd felt loved and validated. He ignored the screaming, and focused on those feelings, of Ron and Hermione's faces, and he bellowed,
"EXPECTO PATRONUM" At once, the screaming faded until it became little more than a distant echo. From the tip of his wand an enormous jet of silver shot forward. It slammed into the dementor with the force of a truck. It recoiled, bounding off of the shield in front of him. It tried to get to him, but it couldn't, it just kept rebounding off of the silver shield, its skeletal hands swiping at the shield pitifully. Harry felt warm, and safe, and protected, but he could also feel his strength leaving him. The force of the spell was draining him of his energy, and the shield was beginning to weaken.
However, before it could fully break, Professor Jackson waved his wand and forced the boggart back into the trunk and Professor Lupin slammed it shut.
Harry fell to his knees, panting heavily. He felt exhausted, and more tired than the hardest of quidditch practices. But in spite of how tired he felt, he was proud. He'd done it, he fought it off. He'd succeeded. Wiping the sweat from his eyes he shakily got to his feet. Professor Jackson was beaming at him, a proud smile on his face, and Professor Lupin was clapping slightly.
"Marvelous, Harry. Absolutely marvelous." Professor Lupin said happily.
"That was incredible, Harry. Very well done!" Professor Jackson said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "That will be enough for tonight, I think, Harry. Really, I couldn't be more proud of you son. I thought it would take weeks for you to get this far." He gave Harry a speculative look, and then grinned. "You're going to be something else Harry, and I can't wait to see just how far you go."
Harry didn't know how to respond to such blatant validation. His ears burned and his stomach constricted. Unable to form the words to express just how that made him feel, he just gave his professor a nod. His professors bade him goodnight and Harry didn't stop smiling all the way back to Gryffindor Tower.
BREAK
Harry's good mood lasted until December. But as Christmas drew nearer, and with it the next Hogsmeade weekend, Harry's good mood slowly began to evaporate. He couldn't help feeling bitter about having his weekend trips being revoked, and not even his weekly sessions with Ron and Hermione, or Patronus lessons were helping to improve his mood. It didn't help that his progress with the dementors seemed to have hit a brick wall. It seemed that no matter how much he focused he couldn't summon more than the same silver mist. That being said, he was able to hold the spell for far longer than he had a month ago. Still, Harry was feeling particularly resentful as he saw Hermione and Ron off to the village the morning of the trip.
When they had disappeared from sight, Harry trudged his way back up to the Gryffindor Common Room. He was planning on spending the day rifling through a copy of Which Broomstick that he borrowed from Wood, he still hadn't found a suitable replacement for his Nimbus but truth be told he wasn't trying that hard.
He had been walking by the statue of the humpbacked, one-eyed witch, when a hand reached out and grabbed him around the arm, pulling him into a classroom across the hall. He whirled around his wand drawn, and found himself staring into the slightly surprise eyes of Fred and George.
"Woah, a little quick on the draw there ace," George said as Harry quickly stuffed his wand,
"Sorry," Said Harry, "You surprised me,"
"No kidding, someone's a little jumpy," Fred said, and Harry refrained from a snarky retort.
"What are you two doing here?" Harry asked instead, "Shouldn't you two be down in Hogsmeade?"
"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," said Fred, with a mysterious wink, as he reached into his robes and, with a dramatic flourish, flopped something down on the desk.
"Early Christmas present for you, Harry," Said George,
"What's that supposed to be?" Harry asked, inspecting the object. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, was beginning to feel a bit apprehensive,
"What's that he says?"
"That, Harry, is the secret to our success,"
"it's a wrench giving it to you,"
"But we've decided, your needs are greater than ours. George, if you will." George pulled out his wand, and tapped the tip against the parchment, saying as he did so,
"I solemnly swear, that I am up to no good,"
At once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed: "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP." It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing.
Harry's mouth dropped open in shock, and he bent over, examining the parchment. He watched in fascination as the tiny dots showing Filch and Mrs. Norris prowling around a corridor on the fourth floor. Dumbledore was pacing around his study, and Harry could see Peeves the Poltergeist bouncing around in the trophy room.
"Brilliant," Harry breathed out, "It's showing-"
"Everyone in the castle,"
"What they're doing,"
"At every minute,"
"Of every day."
"How on earth did you get this?" Harry asked, looking between the twins.
"Nicked it from Filch's office of course,"
"First year,"
"Now," Said Fred pointing at the statue of the one-eyed witch across the hall, "There are plenty of entrances in and out of the castle."
"There are seven in all," Said George, "Filch knows of these four, and this one is collapsed so no one can use it," He said pointing at several lines, "And don't bother with this one, because the Whomping Willow is stuck right on top of the entrance, so we recommend, this one," He said, and his finger joined Fred's at the one-eyed witch.
"Just tap the statue with your wand and say, 'Dissendium,' and it'll open right up and take you into Honeyduke's cellar.
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."
"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly.
"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it-"
"-or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly.
"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."
"So, young Harry," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of his brother Percy, "Mind you behave yourself."
"See you in Honeydukes," said George, winking.
They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.
For a long moment, Harry just stared at the map in astonishment. Then, with a wide grin, Harry ran off to his dormitory, and retrieved his invisibility cloak. After checking the map and seeing that the coast was clear, he returned back to the statue. Tapping the statue with his wand, he said,
"Dissendium" There was a loud groan, and the witch's hump opened, revealing a small hole that was only just big enough for Harry to crawl through. Giving the map a final check, and seeing that he was still alone in corridor, he reached up and pulled himself into the small hole.
Once inside, he slid down a large chute, coming to a stop in a small, cramped tunnel. There was a small rumbling, and Harry watched as the entrance closed behind him, and what little light there was in the tunnel disappeared.
"Lumos" Harry said, and the tip of his wand erupted in a flash of brilliant light. Deciding he had no choice but to press on, Harry closed the map, and tucked it away in his robes. The tunnel seemed to go on for miles, and Harry was sure that he had been walking for at least twenty minutes, before the trail started sloping upwards, and the earthy ceiling gave way to wood planking. When he reached the top of the slope, there was a small trap door in the wood. Throwing open the latch, Harry slowly opened the hatch, and, after making sure no one was around, he threw the door fully open and pulled himself out of the tunnel. Closing the door as quietly as he could, Harry threw on the cloak, and climbed the stairs out of the tunnel.
The inside of the shop was full of students, and Harry had to be careful as he navigated his way through the throng, and used the opportunity of a group of giggling sixth-years opening the door to the shop, to slip his way out into the winter storm outside. It was then that Harry realized he might not have thought through his plan too well. He had no way of knowing where he would find Ron and Hermione. The wind had picked up and was throwing snow across the street, and Harry couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him. Deciding he would start with the Three Broomsticks, Harry began trudging his way towards the warm pub. His heart leapt when he was within sight of the pub, as he caught sight of a flash of very bushy hair hurrying out of the storm. Redoubling his efforts, Harry ran through the storm, before shucking off the cloak, and yanking the door open.
Once inside, the cold air disappeared and Harry took a moment to bask in the warmth of the bar, inhaling deeply the delicious scent of butterbeer. He glanced around and caught sight of Ron and Hermione huddled by a few open tables in the corner. Picking his way through the crowd of people and tables, Harry caught a few words of their conversation,
"…I'm glad we didn't go with the Bloodpops, I'm sure that those are for vampires." Hermione was saying with a sick expression on her face,
"I still think we should have grabbed a pack of Cockroach Clusters," Ron said, as he was in the process of taking off his winter cloak,
"Well I'm certainly glad you didn't," Harry said, sliding into the seat beside Hermione. She let out a startled yelp, and jumped so badly she nearly toppled out of the chair, if not for Harry shooting out an arm and steadying her. She gaped at him as she got settled back in her seat, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at the expression on her face. His laughter only grew when he saw Ron's face, who was looking both surprised and deeply impressed,
"Harry!" Hermione hissed, "What are you doing here?"
"Harry," Ron breathed, "Brilliant! How'd you get here? Did you learn how to apparate?"
Harry shook his head, before pulling the map out and explaining to his friends about how Fred and George had found him and given him the map.
"How come they didn't give it to me? I'm their brother," Ron said indignantly, though he didn't seem mad at Harry in the least,
"Well he's not going to keep it, are you Harry? You're going to turn it into to Professor McGonagall, aren't you?" Hermione said intently,
Ron gapped at her, "Are you kidding me, Hermione? Why on earth would he turn it in? It's brilliant!"
"Oh, I don't know Ron," Hermione said with an exasperated eye-roll, "Maybe because Sirius Black just snuck into the castle and could have used one of those passages on that map!"
Harry winced, because Hermione did raise a painfully good point. But Harry was loathe to part with such an incredible item, especially since it had been a gift from Fred and George,
"Fred and George told me Filch already knows about four of them," Harry insisted, "Another is collapsed, and the sixth is under the Whomping Willow. The only usable one is the one in Honeydukes."
"See Hermione," Ron said, waving a hand at Harry, "Don't you think we would have heard if Honeydukes had been broken into? Nah," Ron waved a dismissive hand, "Black is using something else to get in and out of the castle, Keep the map Harry, seems dead useful that is. Hang on, I'll go grab you a butterbeer."
A few minutes later, and with a fresh tankard of butterbeer in hand, their conversation halted as the door to the pub was thrown open and several people walked in. Professors Jackson, McGonagall, and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak; Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic.
Harry's eyes widened, and as quick as he could, he pulled the cloak out of his pocket, as Ron and Hermione simultaneously shoved him under table, as Harry threw the cloak over his shoulders. He watched the feet of the teachers approach the bar, before making their way right towards the three of them. Staring through the dense lower branches of a tree that Hermione moved to block the teachers from seeing them, Harry saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down. Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice.
"A small gillywater-"
"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.
"Four pints of mulled mead-"
"Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.
"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella-"
"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.
"And two red currant rums,"
"Thanks Ros," Professor Jackson said, and received a tinkling laugh from the buxom barkeep.
"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"
"Well, thank you very much, Minister." Harry watched the glittering heels march away and back again. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his throat. Why hadn't it occurred to him that this was the last weekend of term for the teachers too? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if he wanted to return to school… Hermione's leg gave a nervous twitch next to him.
"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came Madam Rosmerta's voice. Harry saw the lower part of Fudge's thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice,
"What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"
"I did hear a rumor," admitted Rosmerta,
Professor Jackson snorted, "Had to tell the whole pub, didn't ya Hagrid?" But Madam Rosmerta seemed to be more interested in what the Minister had to say,
"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" She whispered,
"I'm sure of it," said Fudge shortly.
Rosmerta's voice gained a hard edge to it, "You know that the Dementors have searched the whole village twice? Scared all my customers away… It's very bad for business, Minister."
"Rosmerta, dear, I don't like them any more than you do," said Fudge uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution… unfortunate, but there you are… I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore - he won't let them inside the castle grounds."
Professor Jackson made a derisive sound in the back of his throat, and Harry could all but see Professor McGonagall's nostrils flare,
"I should think not," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"
"Hear, hear!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.
"All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse… We all know what Black's capable of…"
"And I still say that we're more than capable of defending this school Cornelius." Professor Jackson said, and Harry saw him swivel in his spot next to the Minister, "If we have to have security, then assign a few squads of aurors. For the love of the gods, Cornelius, those things attacked a student. If not for Dumbledore, Harry could have died when he fell from his broom."
Professor McGonagall made a sound that was similar to cat's squawk of protest, and Professor Flitwick squeaked in anxiety,
"I understand what you're saying my friend," Fudge said, sounding apprehensive, "But the dementors are rather…insistent. There's much we don't know about them, but they're oddly proud. They're utterly furious that Black escaped. Still don't know how he did it and dare I say, it's driving them mad. The only thing keeping them from swarming the Muggle world looking for him is our promise to assign them to the castle. I fear," Fudge said with a gulp, "I fear that if we were to take them off the job that-that they might take matters, ah, into their own hands."
Professor Jackson sighed, "I understand. I'm just frustrated is all."
"No one is more concerned for young Harry's safety than myself, dear friend," Fudge said, "I completely share the sentiments, but my hands are unfortunately tied."
"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought… I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."
"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."
"The worst?" said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity.
"What could possibly be worse than murdering thirteen people in cold blood?" Asked Professor Jackson,
"I wish I were lying," said Fudge.
"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?" Asked Rosmerta,
"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"
"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here," She let out a wistful sigh, "Oh, how they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!" Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. Ron kicked him.
Professor Jackson must have been taking a drink because he suddenly choked, and Harry could hear someone, he thought might be Hagrid, thumping him on the back,
"What?!" Asked Professor Jackson,
"Oh yes," said Professor McGonagall, sounding incredibly remorseful, "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course - exceptionally bright, in fact - but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers,"
"I dunno," chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."
"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "They were inseparable!"
"Of course they were," Said Professor McGonagall, "James trusted Black with his life, his greatest friend amongst all others. Was even the best man when James and Lily married,"
"Then they named him Godfather to young Harry," Said Fudge mournfully, Harry felt his heart stop, as his breath caught in his throat. All of a sudden it was becoming impossible to breath.
"He's what?!" Roared Professor Jackson,
"Oh yes," Fudge said somberly, "But that's not the worst of it,"
"Not the worst?" Rosmerta said,
"I wish that the worst would be that Black had turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who." Fudge said, and his voice dropped slightly, and Harry craned his neck to listen, "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."
Professor Jackson let out a low whistle, "Damn," He breathed, "That's some serious magic,"
"How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest.
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, and his voice took on the same squeaking lecturing tone he used in his lessons, "An immensely complex spell, involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find, unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"
Professor Jackson swore violently, "Black was their Secret-Keeper, wasn't he?"
"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "James told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself…and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."
"And he suspected Black?" Rosmerta said with a gasp,
"Albus was certain that someone on our side had turned traitor, and that someone close to the Potters had been funneling secrets to the other side," said Professor McGonagall.
"But James Potter insisted that Black could be trusted," Fudge said with a sigh, "Then, barely a week after the spell had been cast, Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow, and we all know what happened next."
"It only gets worse though," said Professor McGonagall, "The Ministry didn't catch up to Black until…until it was too late," There was a sound similar to a horn honking, as Professor McGonagall blew her nose into a handkerchief.
"Peter Pettigrew," Fudge said sadly,
"Pettigrew… that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Rosmerta,
"Indeed," Fudge said, "Muggle eyewitnesses told us how Pettigrew cornered Black on a muggle street. Said he was sobbing, demanding to know how he could have betrayed the Potters, and went for his wand, but he was not the wizard Black is. Black was faster, and blew Pettigrew to smithereens. All we had left to give to the poor man's mother was his finger."
There was a scarping of chairs as Professor Jackson slid back from the table and made to stand up,
"Percy," Spluttered Fudge, "Where on earth are you going?"
Professor Jackson's hand reached down and grabbed his peacoat, "Up to the castle to find Harry," He said determinately, "He deserves to know," Fudge spluttered at his words,
"Absolutely not!" Cried out Professor McGonagall, "Jackson! Stop!"
Professor Jackson, who had taken several steps toward the door, stopped and turned,
"Why?" He demanded, "He already knows that Black is after him, he has every right to know the truth!"
"Because Albus absolutely forbade us from telling him!" Professor McGonagall hissed,
"Rightly so!" Fudge said, after finding his voice, "The truth would torment him worse beyond comprehension,"
"He deserves to know!" Professor Jackson repeated, "He's stronger than you're giving him credit for, he won't do something stupid, if I can just talk to him-"
"The headmaster has made his opinions perfectly clear on the matter Jackson," Professor McGonagall said sharply, "Come, we're dining with Albus in a few minutes, if you feel this strongly about it, bring up your objections with him,"
"Oh you can plan on it," Professor Jackson said, his voice little more than a growl. One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry took the weight of their owners once more; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappeared behind the bar. The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers had disappeared.
"Harry?" Ron said carefully, looking under the table with Hermione to look at him, but Harry wasn't listening. With the cloak still covering his shoulders, Harry crawled out from under the table, and fled from the tavern. He broke into a run the minute he was out in the open. He didn't have a plan, didn't know what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to go, but his feet carried him away from the village. He knew Ron and Hermione would want to talk, but he couldn't talk to them. They wouldn't understand, neither of them, they both still had their families, had parents they could see and who loved them. Harry didn't, and he'd just found out that the reason he didn't was because the man they'd loved as a brother had betrayed them.
Without even meaning to, he'd arrived at the outlook to the Shrieking Shack, an abandoned house on the outskirts of the village that was famous for being the most haunted building in Britain. He collapsed into the snow, and his shoulders shook in a mixture of grief and rage. Grief, that the loss of his parents could have been prevented if only his father hadn't been so trusting, and rage that Black had been the cause of their deaths. Harry could handle someone coming after him for defeating Voldemort. As unhealthy as it might have been for someone his age, he had come to terms with the fact that people would want him dead for his victory over the Dark Lord. But the knowledge that Voldemort only knew about where his family was, was because someone they'd trusted had betrayed them? Someone they'd loved as one of their own? Someone they'd trusted enough to make Harry's Godfather? Harry didn't know how to handle it.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there. It could have been five minutes, or it could have been five hours, Harry had no idea. But at some point, a familiar voice called out,
"Are you ok?" Harry looked up, surprised that anyone else was there. Daphne Greengrass was standing only a few feet away, staring at the spot where Harry was sitting. He glanced down, thinking for a moment that the cloak had slipped off of him, but when he saw nothing but the snow beneath him, he realized that he was, in fact, still wearing the cloak.
"It helps when you remember to get rid of the footprints," Daphne said helpfully, and Harry looked behind him. Indeed, he realized that there was a series of fresh tracks in the snow, showing Harry's arrival to the Shack. So overcome with emotion, he hadn't even realized that there had been a second set of tracks leading to the overlook.
"You can become visible or not," Daphne said with a shrug, "Makes no difference to me either way,"
Harry hesitated for a moment, before he pulled the cloak off of himself. To her credit, Daphne didn't even bat an eye at the reveal.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, and Daphne raised a brow at him,
"Make a habit of demanding from others what you wouldn't so willingly give, Potter?" She asked, Harry flushed slightly and muttered an apology. Under most circumstances, he would have been appalled to have anyone, let alone a member of his house rival, see him in such a state. But Harry couldn't bring himself to care.
Daphne regarded him for a moment, then turned back to the overlook. The storm had subsided, leaving only a light winter breeze that tossed Daphne's blonde hair over her face,
"I came here during the first trip. It's nice and quiet. A good place to think."
Harry wanted to ask what she was thinking about, but refrained. They sat in silence for a moment, just staring out across the valley at the dilapidated building.
"You look like you need someone to talk to," She said abruptly. Even though her voice was little more than a whisper, it carried loudly in the broad silence of the valley.
"Why would I want to talk to you," Harry said rudely, but hot anger was still pulsing though his veins, but he didn't care at the moment.
Again, Daphne shrugged, not seeming to notice Harry's sharp tone, "Because you know I won't tell anyone."
That was true enough. Harry knew that the girl hadn't told anyone about his and Ron's trip to the Slytherin Common Room. If she had, Harry didn't doubt that Snape would have done everything in his power to see him and Ron expelled for their illegal trespass. And truth be told, he did want to talk to someone. He wanted someone who would listen, who wouldn't offer empty platitudes about understanding when they didn't. Someone who would validate what he was feeling. Normally, he would go to Professor Jackson, but he was apparently dining with the Minister and headmaster.
"I just found out that Sirius Black was my Godfather," he said softly. Daphne didn't say anything, she just continued staring out at the Shack. Harry continued talking, not entirely sure why, but as soon as he'd started, he couldn't stop.
"I knew that he was after me. Professor Jackson told me this summer. But he and I both thought it was just because Black worked for Voldemort and he wanted revenge." Harry wasn't surprised to see Daphne flinch slightly at the name. And her knuckles clenched slightly around the scarf around her neck,
"But it's more than that. I don't know much about my parents, but I guess Black and my dad were best friends." Harry continued, "He was even dad's best man at his and my mum's wedding." Fresh tears started to slowly trickle down his cheeks, but still, Daphne didn't say anything. "But the bastard was working for Voldemort the whole time. My parents used a powerful spell to hide themselves. A spell where only Black knew where they were. He told Voldemort and that's what led him to my parents." Harry reached down into the snow. His fingers dug deep through the fresh powder down to the soil, and he dug his fingers into the earth.
"I can handle him coming after me because of Voldemort. But I can't stand knowing that the bastard is the reason I never got to meet my parents. That the only thing I have of my mother, is her screaming for Voldemort's mercy on me before he kills her." He laughed bitterly, and he tasted the salty tears as they fell into his mouth,
"It would be funny if it weren't so bloody infuriating." He said, "The dementors were supposed to punish him, but the only one suffering from them is me. They give me the only gift my loving Godfather has ever given me. The sound of my mother's final moments."
He ripped his hands free from the ground and held them in front of him, as though strangling a man he couldn't see,
"I'm going to find Black. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to kill him."
Harry fell silent. His shoulders shaking in anger and sorrow. They stayed like that for several moments. until Daphne spoke once more,
"Revenge often feels as though it's the only option available to us." She said, Harry looked up at her. She still wasn't looking at him. "It consumes us, fills us with a desire so strong that we become blinded to the world around us. But if we sink into the temptation, we become the thing we hated most."
She finally looked at him, only for a moment, but Harry saw something flash in her eyes.
"Professor Jackson told me that, last year. He's a good man. A better man than most by far." She took a deep breath, a thin mist escaping her mouth as she exhaled,
"My father," She spat the word like a curse, "Was a follower of the Dark Lord." Harry's eyes shot to Daphne, his hand jumping to where he kept his wand, but Daphne didn't move, and Harry didn't draw. She continued, ignoring his shocked expression,
"He was never arrested; when the Dark Lord fell, he fled the country. Nobody has seen him since. He and my mother, they did not marry for love. My father, he drugged her with a love potion. My sister and I are the result of their…union." She was shaking slightly, but her back was still straight, and she maintained a stony look of determination.
"Mother tries not to show it, tries to be the best, loving mother she can be. But I see it. The disgust, the hate, the bitter sorrow of a life she could have had." Harry could see tears on Daphne's cheeks, "I don't blame her for it. I gave up on that a long time ago. It wasn't her fault; she didn't ask for it any more than Astoria or I did. But she never gave up. She could have left too but she didn't. She stayed, she stayed and she loves us, loves me, in spite of everything. When I came to Hogwarts, I threw myself into my studies. I had promised myself that I would learn, train, and become strong enough to find the bastard, and kill him."
She shook her head, "I don't know what drove me to talk to Professor Jackson. I suppose it had been Tracey. She and I have been friends since we met on the train before first-year. She told me to talk to him about it. Said she didn't like what I was doing. Tracey was my first friend. I humored her, and she took me to him. When I told him what my plans were…he grew sad. So very sad. He told me a story. A story about a friend of his. A friend who had a story very similar to mine. His friend's quest for revenge nearly killed everyone he ever cared about. It drove him to madness, and that only at the end of it all, did he abandon his quest, at the expense of his own life."
Daphne shuddered, "I-I don't want that. I don't want to become that…I hate my father with all my soul. I wish him to burn for eternity in the most fiery pits of hell. But I refuse to follow in his footsteps. I refuse to allow myself to sink to where he sank. Professor Jackson explained to me that if I were to follow through, I would be no different than the man I despise."
She shook her head,
"But worse still, is what my mother and sister would say. My mother, who loves me in spite of the circumstances of my birth. My sister, whom I treasure more than anything, whom I would do anything to protect. What would they say or think of me if I became what we all hated? I couldn't hurt them like that. Couldn't disrespect my mother and all she's sacrificed for us."
Harry was at a loss for words. Not only because it was the most he'd ever heard the girl talk, but because he had absolutely no idea why she'd just told him that. It was a deeply personal and intimate secret. Something she'd probably only have shared with the most intimate of friends.
He leaned back, his hands wrapping around his knees as he thought on her words. He wanted Black dead. He wanted him dead worse than anything in the world. But as he thought, he wondered what his parents would say. His parents, who everyone said were the paragons of good. Of love and kindness. What would they say if Harry killed Black. Would they be proud of him? Would they be proud of his avenging their deaths?
The image of his mother and father in the Mirror of Erised flashed though his mind. The look of pride in his father's eyes, and his mother's loving, teary-eyed smile. He heard his mother in his head again, though no dementors were swooping down on him. He heard her plead for mercy, for Harry's life to be spared. With a pang, Harry realized that his mother wouldn't want him to avenge their death. Wouldn't want him to sink to the level of Black, to kill a man in cold blood even if he had been the cause of their deaths.
His thoughts turned to his father. It had been his job to find and capture dark wizards. Surely he would agree with harry's desire for revenge? Surely he would understand. But even as the thought occurred to him, he knew that it was wrong. If his father had been the equivalent of a police man, then he would have believed in justice. In the rule of law. He would not have wanted Harry to hunt down the man responsible for his death. He would have wanted Harry to live, to be the best man he could possibly be. How could Harry call himself a good man if he killed without mercy? His father had fought in a war, war was different. In war, it was kill or be killed, Harry didn't want to kill in self-defense, he wanted to kill for vengeance. His father wouldn't have supported that.
And then there was Professor Jackson. His reaction to the news had been touching beyond words. His desire for Harry to know the truth, to know what his relationship to Black really was warmed Harry greatly. Would he support Harry's decision? If what Daphne said, then there was no way that would be true. Professor Jackson had always seen the best in Harry, had told him he would not only be a good man, but a great man. Harry didn't think he could bear the look of shame and betrayal on the man's face, if he knew what Harry wanted.
"There is a great deal we have in common after all, even you have to have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike…"
The memory of Tom Riddle, of Voldemort, rang in his Harry's ears. Harry clenched his fists, he was not like Voldemort, he was not the same as the monster that enjoyed hurting others. He refused to become like the man who betrayed his parents, and he was even more staunchly against becoming like the man who'd murdered his parents.
His hands fell back to the snow, and Harry pulled his knees to his forehead. He didn't even know if he had the ability to kill Black. let alone if he even really wanted to. He wanted Black punished to be sure, but as the rage streamed out of Harry's system, and his rational mind took back over; he knew himself well enough to know that there was no way he could kill someone. Even if he felt that they deserved it.
After a while, Harry got sick of sitting in the snow, and pushed himself to his feet. Walking over to the gated fence of the overlook, he leaned against the handrail. He didn't say anything to Daphne, and she didn't make a move to leave.
"Why'd you tell me all of that?" Harry asked, "Why tell about your family, and try and talk me out of it?"
"A secret for a secret. it was only fair." Daphne said simply, as though it were the easiest thing in the world, "And it's what Professor Jackson would have done,"
"You really respect him, don't you?" Harry asked, Daphne turned to him, eyebrow arched,
"And you don't?" She asked, though she looked slightly amused,
Harry laughed, "Fair point," He said. As his mind began drifting away from revenge, and focused a little more on the girl beside him, Harry asked something that had been bugging him for a while,
"How did you know?" He asked, "That it was us in the Common Room?"
"I saw you throw that firework into Crabbe's cauldron, and Granger sneak into the potion storage and steal boomslang skin. There are only a handful of potions requiring that specific ingredient," She said, "And I saw you start to change back when the potion was wearing off. That scar on your forehead is fairly distinct. Your lucky Malfoy is fairly thick."
Harry flushed slightly, but pressed on,
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" He asked,
"I was curious too," Daphne admitted, "Aside from what Professor Jackson told us, I couldn't find anything about the heir, and the way Malfoy had been acting in the Common Room, you would have thought either he was the heir or knew who it was. Besides," Her expression pinched, "You know what his father is like, I despise men like that, and dear little Draco is looking to follow right in his footsteps." She looked over Harry's shoulder, and pushed away from her spot,
"This was…nice." She said, "It's nice to talk to someone who sort of understands what it's like to live with the trauma of our past. Let's do this again sometime, yeah?" And without waiting for a response she pushed away from the railing, and strode out of the clearing. Harry watched her leave, as Ron and Hermione came running past. Both cast a slightly worried glance in her direction, before they came to a stop panting in front of Harry,
"Harry," Hermione panted, "We looked everywhere for you,"
"What was she doing here?" Ron asked, jerking his head to the retreating form of Daphne,
"Just wanted to talk," Harry said with a shrug. He was feeling oddly light, as though a particularly heavy burden had been lifted.
Ron and Hermione shared a worried look, and Hermione said,
"Harry…" She began cautiously, "How-how are you doing?"
Harry thought about his answer for a moment, considering what he wanted to say. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt. He still wanted Black to pay for what he'd done, but since he'd calmed down, and the rage had left him, he no longer felt the awe-inspiring desire to hunt down Black.
"I'm…I'm not doing great," Harry admitted, meeting the eyes of his friends. Seeing the terrified expressions on their faces, Harry knew exactly what they were thinking, but he wouldn't worry them needlessly, especially since he no longer felt as he had.
"But, I think I'm going to be okay,"
AN: The truth comes out! Harry learns the shocking "truth" of his Godfather, and is nearly consumed by revenge. I almost had Percy step in here and do something, but I like this idea so much more. I wanted to show the impact that Percy has had on the rest of the school, and the relationships he's built with students other than Harry. I just think it's more impactful, not just for Harry, but for Percy as well. How did you like Harry's training? I thought it was fun, and a good way to show his growth, and application of what he's learned so far. And we get a look at Percy's Boggart! I had a twisted sort of fun writing this, mostly because I got to dig into my darker side for a bit. We get a few more pieces to the Percy Jackson puzzle, and things start to more slowly slide into place. What are your theories? What do you think happened? What do you think is going to happen next? Is Harry going to have to use the most broken plot-device ever created to stop Sirius from being kissed? Or am I just going to do away with it entirely, because it completely breaks any kind of tension that the books ever had? Can you tell how much I hate the time-turner? Find out soon! Thanks again for all the love and support, stay positive, and test negative my friends.
Love,
LilDB