Monday 17th April 1995
Monday morning was cloudy and cold, and the temperature barely budged all day. It was a dull grey day, best suited for moping around or dutiful completion of dreary homework. Being a diligent student over the holidays Harry didn't need to join the throng of returning students in the library desperately finishing off neglected essays, but he went along anyway and worked on some neglected correspondence and caught up with his friends.
Hermione was back, much to everyone's relief, and swore she was as good as new. She seemed overwhelmed by the attention, in fact, as both Krum and Neville were eager to spirit her away for a private chat (the former with clearly more romantic intentions than the latter). Greg was wanting more detailed reassurance that she was well and not just saying that she was fine, and the girls from her dorm were keen to hear all the gossip about the Hogsmeade attack and her injuries straight from the horse's mouth. Harry barely got a word in edgewise to anyone!
Draco and Pansy were both cross with him for not writing to him on Sunday, but as he pointed out, he'd only gotten their letters Sunday evening and knew he'd be seeing them on Monday anyway.
"Your owl pecked me, by the way," he told Draco. "Badly."
"It was bad at pecking?" Greg asked.
"No, I mean it hurt a lot," Harry clarified. "You need to have a talk with it." He glared accusingly at Draco, who looked unbothered by his judgement.
"A talk with her," Draco corrected. "However, there's no need. Morgana is perfectly well trained."
"She drew blood! Are you saying she bit me on purpose?"
"Yes," Draco admitted shamelessly. "You should have written to me right away; she was instructed to encourage you to write back, which you clearly didn't. I had to find out what happened to you and everyone else from the paper."
"So rude," Pansy sniffed. "Would you want to read the Prophet and find out one of your dear friends or relatives was tortured, and not hear a word from them about it? No-one bothered to notify me, you know. Our family was worried about you."
"Oh. Uh, okay. Sorry. I'll remember for next time." It hadn't occurred to Harry that his cousin or friends would worry about him, since he'd obviously survived. It made him wonder for the first time if the Dursleys had been told anything. Probably not. Torture Curse or not, anything you could walk off in less than a day was considered a minor injury by wizarding standards.
"I heard Black is in hospital?" Draco checked. "How is he recovering?"
"I saw him yesterday – he was unconscious but stable. He lost most of an ear and was tortured quite a lot but is expected to otherwise recover well. I mean, I'm worried, but it's not life-threatening, you know?"
"It is good to hear he is doing well," Draco said. "I wrote to him, but I haven't heard back yet."
"Neither have I – I'm sure the delay is nothing personal, Draco."
Gossip was as much a focus of their sprawling study group as study itself was. People stopped by their large table in the library to check in on each other, discuss the Death Eater attacks and their consequences including a few Muggle deaths, speculate and fret about Trelawney's fate, and spread rumours of undetermined veracity. The one about Hogsmeade trips being cancelled for the foreseeable future was the most plausible new bit of gossip on the grapevine, occasioning despondent and resigned sighs and commiserations from just about everyone. Anthony stopped by – carefully ignoring Tracey – to rant angrily to anyone who would listen about how the attack in Hogsmeade had "made a mockery of Passover". Friday's upcoming third Triwizard task was almost totally forgotten in discussing all the other drama, which was fine by Harry who was trying not to think too hard about it.
It was a great meet-up for catching up with all his friends but rubbish for actually getting any decent work done. He did manage to get a bunch of stock letters ready to send off to people concerned about him or sending supportive messages about the Tournament, and also wrote letters to both Sirius and Kreacher enquiring about whether the Black or Potter families might have a claim on any of the new land enclosed to adjoin Diagon Alley. Hermione had been very approving of him writing to Kreacher but less thrilled when she discovered that his purpose in doing so was in hopes of claiming formerly Muggle-owned buildings.
"And what would you do with your stolen land, should you manage to get some?" Hermione asked.
"Probably rent any buildings out to Muggle-born entrepreneurs or new immigrants who want to start a shop," Harry said. "Werewolves, too; they can't legally work or live in Muggle areas, or too near any school or hospital, or in wizarding areas if there are any long-established neighbours who object to their presence. That last bit's new, and they were pretty stuck even before that."
He'd been thinking about it already and was sure there would be people who would appreciate the chance to break into the premium real estate and shopping area predominantly monopolised by long-established pure-bloods. He'd already jotted down a quick note to Lupin asking what he thought of the idea, ready to send out with the evening's mail.
"That's something, at least," Hermione said. "It would be better if you refused to claim stolen land, though."
"They stole the land from us first," Pansy snapped.
Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "There's no evidence of that."
"For someone who loves keeping her nose in a book you are sadly disinclined to research matters before sharing your ill-informed opinion," Pansy said, to Hermione's growing outrage.
"You have to submit evidence to the Muggle Management Office if you are making a claim. Father said the burden of proof required is actually quite tiresome," Draco interjected loudly.
"Gee, why am I not surprised that your family is trying to get a share of what the Death Eaters stole," Hermione said derisively, with a melodramatic roll of her eyes. "No one gives a damn about the Muggles who just had their lives ruined, do they?"
Draco abruptly pushed away from the table, standing over her with his blue-grey eyes narrowed in anger as he hissed, "Why are you 'not surprised'? I would say it is because you always think the worst of me and my family, even when you have no proof whatsoever of wrongdoing except your own prejudice!"
He gathered his things and stalked off, trailed by Pansy who gave Hermione a poisonous glare as she departed.
"That was behaviour unbecoming of a lady," Greg chided, in a gentle rumble. "His family is doing nothing different to many others." He didn't leave the table but Hermione did, mumbling a vague apology and looking upset.
Neville quickly trailed after her, telling Harry to stay put. Harry obediently stayed. Since he was similarly trying to grab land – if his family was entitled to it – that was otherwise just going to go to the highest bidder one way or another, he couldn't really throw stones at Draco on this one. If he chased after Hermione he suspected he would most likely just irritate her in her current mood, no matter how soft she'd been earlier in the day when she'd worried over his injuries sustained in Hogsmeade.
Later that day after dinner, a whole parliament of owls descended on Harry when he reached his dorm. He groaned unhappily, and Neville and the other boys snickered at his predicament as he was hounded by feathered pests all eager to deliver their mail first. Storm eventually took charge and settled them down with a few warning snaps in their direction, which he promised Harry in hurt hisses were only mock-strikes as he knew he wasn't allowed to eat owls.
As Harry made inroads into opening up his mail and scribbling some hasty replies to the more generic and easily answered letters, Neville wandered across and sat down on the bed next to him, shooing away a couple of owls to make room.
"What's up?" Harry asked, casually tucking away a letter from Snape.
Snape had sent a short note purportedly about brewing potions for vampires. Harry had checked it for hidden messages before Neville had wandered over, and found hidden news about how Voldemort was thrilled Harry had healed one of his Death Eaters mid-battle, and was furious with Pettigrew who'd absconded. He'd also sent the newly recharmed Portkey back.
"I wanted to talk, but… I'm not sure this is a great time."
"Oh, I can do most of this and talk at the same time. You doing alright, Nev?" Harry asked, glancing up at his friend as he distractedly arranged the Triplicate Quills Pansy had gifted him some time ago to write three identical short letters at the same time, thanking people for wishing him luck in the upcoming Tournament task on Friday. He'd run out of his preprepared stock replies and needed to write some more. All he would need to do to finish them off was to add people's names at the top with a regular quill. Sometimes he really wished the wizarding world had a photocopier. At least he'd reduced his repetitive replies by two thirds! It was a big improvement.
"I am fine, thank you."
Harry cast a quick ink-drying charm and sent the replies off with three of the obediently waiting owls; it was always handier to use the senders' owls, to save a trip up to the rather smelly Owlery.
Harry opened up some more mail and skimmed the contents, setting them aside as letters requiring special attention. Madam Puddifoot had sent a short note checking on the welfare of 'Antares Black' that had actually reached him, at least with a well-trained priority owl on the job. That was probably a bad sign, magically.
Kreacher was talking with the family portraits about historic land ownership by the family in London.
Mrs. Weasley wanted to be reassured Harry wasn't suffering from being cursed in Hogsmeade.
Sirius was out of hospital and recovering at home with his 'pet dog' and promised to go looking for a plastic surgeon, and congratulated him on being so smart and talented in changing his appearance and gushed some more about Harry being a Metamorphmagus and how awesome that was (comments that left Harry glowing with pride). He relayed congratulations from Tonks, Mrs. Tonks, and Lupin, too. Tonks' relayed advice encouraged him to practise shifting his form regularly.
A werewolf he'd met on his book-signing tour, Hyndla, wanted to assure him that not all werewolves had participated in the attack on parliament members. She'd also sent him a copy of the potions recipe for Wolfsbane, having apparently heard gossip from a vampire that he had interest and skill in brewing speciality healing potions. It was a complex recipe and looked far out of his league right now, given that a tiny mistake could result in a disastrously toxic potion. There were some complicated steps to mitigate the usually poisonous effects of fresh Wolfsbane on werewolves that were easy to get wrong.
"Sirius is out of hospital!" he relayed to Neville, as he pulled over a fresh sheet of parchment. "He asked after you, by the way, and said your parents would be proud of how you fought in Hogsmeade."
"Those are glad tidings indeed! Please thank him for his kind words."
Harry started scribbling some customised replies to the most recently opened letters.
After a pause, Neville asked, "And you're fine now too?"
Harry glanced up and smiled at his nervous-looking friend. "Yes, like I told you before, I'm fine. I promise I really am. I wasn't under the Cruciatus for more than a minute or two, I think. There's no long-term consequences for such a short exposure. Even Sirius says he's going to be fine in a couple of days – he was cursed repeatedly, but only for a short burst each time. It's holding someone under it without pause for a long time that's uh… likely to have permanent effects."
Neville nodded, looking a little more relaxed. "So, can we talk? Privately?"
Harry looked at the waiting owls and pile of mail. "I'm happy to chat, but honestly if you need my full attention, tomorrow might be better. Can it wait? It is something urgent?"
His friend hesitated, then his mouth firmed in a determined line. "It can wait for now. It is getting late. Tomorrow morning, then. If that is alright with you."
"I've been learning a privacy charm to foil eavesdroppers, but I'm not good at it yet. There's too many other spells to learn and so much study to do!" Harry said, with a sigh. "How about we meet up after breakfast in the empty classroom we used to practice brewing in, for added privacy?"
"Excellent. Thank you, Harry."
Harry ripped open a sealed letter. "My pleasure. Oh, another fan checking on me. Ovid Mortalem. He wants to know all the details of the Hogsmeade attack that he missed; everything Pettigrew did and said. A bit pushy, but that's typical for him. He insists on being on a first-name basis."
"Oh! That brave fellow from the fight in Hogsmeade? He has an odd name, doesn't he? Is his family from overseas?"
"He's definitely British, and Ovid is of course a famous Roman name; the poet who wrote all about transformations. Myths about shapechanging, and things taking on new forms. That's where I've heard about him, anyway. He probably wrote other stuff too."
"I have never heard that surname anywhere. The first name is a pure-blood style, but if he is not French then I suppose he must be a Muggle-born or a half-blood," Neville mused. "Unless it is a Name of Power he made up so he'd be better at transfigurations or something. Not that it matters either way. It must be nice to have so many fans and supporters; if he comes to the Tournament will you introduce me? I heard from Gran that she is planning to come and watch your final task, Harry. Is your family going to come and cheer you on?"
Harry froze, his quill hovering in the air. He stared at the name on the letter in front of him. It was an odd name. An odd name for a man with rather odd behaviour. "Would you excuse me please? I need to get my mail finished before it gets too late."
"Oh, of course. My apologies. I shall see you at breakfast."
Neville headed off to bed, and Harry yanked the bedcurtains closed as he pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and scribbled down some notes.
Ovid Mortalem. If I cross out the second half of the surname that's Mort, Harry thought, scribbling down some notes. Take the V and O from Ovid, and the L from the surname…
Harry stared at the anagram he'd written down: I am Voldemort.
-000-
Harry went yawning to his private conference with Neville the next morning, having stayed up later than he should reading over Ovid's old letters, which hadn't told him anything except that Ovid was a pagan and keen to know that Harry was too, and overly eager to establish a cordial correspondence.
Both Neville and Hermione had given him funny looks at breakfast. He wasn't sure what it was all about, but later on it didn't take too long for Neville to get to the point and make it all painfully clear.
The classroom door locked and magically closed behind the two of them, and a Muffliato Charm cast, Neville took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stood tall and determined, shoulders back and hands clasped behind his back.
"This is about what I overheard in Hogsmeade. Well, both myself and Hermione. Some things the Death Eaters said… we are worried about you, Harry. I think… we think you have entered into some kind of truce with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Harry stared, then gave a nervous laugh. "No, of course not!"
Neville looked at him with disappointment. "Please. Harry. You are my best friend. Please do not lie to me. I need to know why you have done this. Professor Moody said he is sure you are not under the Imperius – I did not tell him why I was asking, just that I was concerned in general after the events in Hogsmeade – so it cannot be that. Why Harry?"
It made Harry hesitate. He didn't want to lie to Neville. He could. Maybe he could even make up something convincing, but he didn't truly want to. Maybe he could explain it, make him understand.
"Okay. Look, it's true," Harry started.
Neville closed his eyes and took another deep breath, looking sad and scared.
"It's not like an alliance or anything, I don't follow him. It's purely practical, it's to save lives. So many people were… are in danger, and this was a way to bargain for their safety. I don't have to do anything except not fight him or his Death Eaters, and I get to guarantee the safety of one extra person a month. The whole organisation has been ordered not to kill children, and that's because of my truce, Neville! It's saving lives! It saved lives in Hogsmeade, too. I'm not going to pretend it's ideal, I know it's not. But it seemed like the best option."
"How long?"
"We signed a formal truce after the attack at the Quidditch World Cup."
"So it was informal before that. Now you are bound by a vow."
"Um…" Harry honestly couldn't remember when they first started dancing around the subject of a truce. Second year?
"What else has he asked you to do? Are you his Heir?"
"Nothing of note. Uh, not attack his properties or businesses and he can't attack mine, and we can't order people to attack the other on our behalf, even indirectly. No hurting each others' followers or pets – Storm wanted to be included in the truce. We don't slander each other to the media or publish our correspondence. He wants monthly letters. That's about it. I'm not his Heir in any formal way; that's just him trying to one-up me because too many people call me the Heir of Slytherin so he wants to be called the Head of the House."
"You have a private, cordial correspondence," Neville said, with a sigh. "With You-Know-Who."
"I think he's trying to make friends and influence me; win me over to his side. It won't work, of course, I'm not an idiot."
"You could have fooled me," Neville snapped, with rare anger. "This is Pettigrew's path. What are you doing, Harry? Your parents would be ashamed of you!"
Harry frowned. "You wanted honesty, I'm being honest. Can't you see why I agreed? To keep people safe! To keep you safe! Luna, who was in tears for months! Hermione, whose life would be over if she became a werewolf! It's not for me that I made the deal!"
"Do not dare do it for me!" yelled Neville. "I would rather die than be kept safe at such a cost!"
Harry winced, and drew his wand and turned and cast a Silencing Charm at the door as a backup. If his other charm dropped it would be better than nothing, if someone walked by. When he turned back he saw Neville had his wand out, and pointed at him.
"Neville? What are you doing?"
"I thought…" Neville started, his sentence trailing off. He lowered his wand slowly and put it away in his robe.
"You thought I would attack you?!" Harry exclaimed, aghast.
"I did not know! I thought I knew you."
"I am no different to how I have always been," Harry said stiffly. "I care about people. I want everyone to be safe."
Neville shook his head. "Not like this, Harry. Not like this. Some prices are too high to pay."
"No price is too high for my friends' lives!"
"What else would you do for You-Know-Who, if he threatened my life, Harry? Would you give him information? Attack someone for him? If I was captured, and he threatened to kill me, would you take the Dark Mark and prostrate yourself before him?"
Harry's mind spun. "Well, I don't know… It would depend on what he asked… I couldn't let you die if I could save you."
Neville's mouth tightened into an angry, thin line. "I want you to formally dissolve the truce."
"No! Look, I get that it's bad–"
"In truth, I do not think you do."
"–but I can protect people this way, and at almost no cost!"
"It is costing your soul. You must do what is right, not what is easy."
"Don't be so dramatic. It's just a few letters! And it isn't like I wanted to go rushing out to fight him, anyway. I'd lose. It doesn't really change anything for me, and is a limitation for him."
Neville huffed angrily. "Yes, it does change things. You care not for drama? 'Tis a vain hope. You will end this truce or I will no longer call you friend nor ally. I will dissolve the alliance between our Houses, and we shall be friends no more."
Harry's eyes widened and his jaw dropped with shock. "You can't mean that!"
"Every word," Neville said determinedly. "Even Malfoy is less committed to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than you are, right now. I cannot be friends with someone on the wrong side of the war."
"I'm not on his side, I'm staying out of choosing sides! If I'm on any side it's the one against him!"
Neville shook his head. "You might believe that, yet it doth not make it true."
"It's saving lives, I'm hoping it might even save Trelawney's right now, if the Dark Lord's captured her; I'm looking into it. I can't cancel the truce just like that."
With a sad look, Neville said, "We had hoped if I just talked to you about it… Yet I can see it will not be that easy for you. You even speak of him like they say his own followers do, calling him your Lord. I want you to know that I – and Hermione – are willing to talk with you further about this. I hope you will change your mind. I will give you until next week; Monday morning after the third task. If you have still not made the right choice by then… our alliance and friendship is d-dissolved."
"And I hoped if I explained it to you that you'd understand. Neville…"
"No. I will be reporting your truce and association with H-he-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to both Dumbledore and Madam Bones."
"You can't do that!"
"Will you try and s-stop me? And Hermione, too?"
Harry's heart clenched. "The Ministry doesn't even acknowledge Voldemort's alive; what would you tell them? Even if they did believe you, would you really want to see me in Azkaban? For trying to help people?"
"If you think the Ministry would throw you in Azkaban for what you have been doing, then you know what you are doing is wrong," Neville said earnestly.
"So is staying quiet about Lupin," Harry said defensively. "What is right and what is legal don't always align."
"True. However, this is not one of those times. Please, think it over and make the right decision. I am… sorry, Harry."
"I'm sorry too. Please, think about this some more…"
"I have done nothing but think about it for days. My conclusions will not change. I hope yours do."
Harry always hated disappointing people, and he feared the consequences that might now face him, including the heart-wrenching possibility of losing his best friend and the terrifying spectre of Azkaban. But he still thought he'd done the right thing. The best choice possible from a list that had only had bad choices on it. He had, hadn't he?
-000-
It was a miserable week for Harry. Neville and Hermione were only speaking to him when they could lecture and debate with him in private, and in public were stiffly formal. They all reached an agreement that Voldemort's attitude towards Muggles and Muggle-borns was terrible, and his methods obviously utterly reprehensible. However, Neville and Hermione were looking very frustrated to have made no more progress in changing Harry's beliefs and planned course of action than that. Their Slytherin friends were all dying to know what fight lay behind their obvious sudden coolness, but no-one was talking. Luna was fretting over the rift and tried to get them to apologise to each other about whatever it was, to no avail, and dispatched Theodore to try as well, but to no avail.
Pansy had quietly let Harry know that whatever the issue was, she was firmly on Harry's side.
"Even though you don't know what our argument is about? It doesn't matter to you?"
"Of course. We are family, and we are friends. Even if I cannot support you publicly for some reason, our bond is not so easily broken and you may always count me as a friend."
"Okay." Harry didn't tear up. He was too manly to tear up. It must have been smoke from the candles on the candelabra irritating his eyes and making his voice croaky.
"I do reserve the right to call you a troll-brained idiot if you deserve it, however," she said, "once I find out what has happened." Her nose crinkled up as she grinned widely, lightening the mood.
Harry had written to both Snape and Sirius for advice, in a roundabout way. He'd asked Snape if Voldemort had captured Trelawney or not, and if she was still alive. He also directly asked Snape for his opinion on what Harry's parents would have thought of his truce with Voldemort. With Sirius, he fished for more general stories of why his parents fought Voldemort and were active in the last war. He also asked why he thought Pettigrew had betrayed them; how he'd been tempted to Voldemort's side. Neville's jibe that he was acting like Pettigrew rankled.
Storm was no help. He leant towards maintaining the truce because it would be safer. He mostly just cared about whether Voldemort would still send him more frogs to eat if they weren't friends any longer, and wanted Harry to ask if he was still smaller than Nagini after his most recent shedding.
"But do you think it is worth the risk? Breaking the truce? There is danger either way! If I keep it, Neville will report me. If I break it, the Dark Lord might hunt me or my loved ones. I'm in a lot of danger here, do you understand that?"
Storm squeezed Harry's neck slightly as he thought about that. "Difficult. Hmm." Harry prised Storm away from his neck slightly, draping him back over his shoulders. His snake was getting too strong, and he was trying to train Storm out of accidentally strangling him.
"I think," Storm said slowly, "that you should keep the truce and kill Neville when your Elders will not sssee, before he tells otherss to hunt you. He will be easier for you to defeat! He is younger and weaker. Don't eat him though. He is too big for you; you will choke."
Harry slumped and let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his forehead.
"I can help! Also, if he is the other one's foe, perhaps he will send uss extra sssnackss to thank uss for killing a rival!" Storm suggested, tongue flickering in and out happily. "Tell him I want another frog."
It was times like this that Harry was painfully reminded that snakes didn't see the world the same way humans did. They had another talk about not killing or eating people, especially friends. Even the ones like Neville who didn't bribe you with snacks or flatter you constantly.
"Not unlesss you order me to or you are hunted," Storm agreed. "I have no interest in killing anyone. People leave me alone, ssso I leave them alone."
Ambrosius was obviously less food-obsessed and pragmatically vicious than Storm but was not particularly helpful either. He advised that Harry speak openly about his options with his closest friends and the most trustworthy adults in his life and canvas their opinions on the matter before making a decision. That was all well and good in theory, but Harry grumpily thought it rather missed the point that he didn't want to talk it over with anyone! It would only lead to arguments and hurt feelings – maybe even shunning or public humiliation or even imprisonment – and no-one was likely to say anything Harry hadn't already thought of anyway. He already knew there was no way he was going to make everyone happy, so it was best to say nothing. Couldn't everyone just pretend everything was fine how it was?
It didn't seem like Neville was going to let that be an option though, and Hermione had Neville's back. She was worse than angry. She was hurt. He hadn't managed to convince either of them to see his point of view – nor had they persuaded him to theirs, though he was thinking things over very seriously. He hoped they were too.
They all kept trying to talk about it but so far it hadn't gone well. Neville was very stubborn in not seeing any merit in the truce whatsoever and was disinterested in hearing any justifications. Hermione was more willing to grant Harry credit for having good intentions (though she still coaxed him to end the truce too), and focused more on earnest arguments about why you couldn't have a truce with someone that evil and bigoted, and the good Harry could do if he took a public stance against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters.
"There's no being neutral about bigotry and genocide. If you are neutral in situations of injustice you have chosen the side of the oppressor, Harry!" she'd pleaded earnestly.
"The point of being neutral is that you haven't chosen a side, that you're standing apart from it. And any side that demands fourteen-year-olds fight in their war is a terrible one!" Harry had argued. "I'm not supporting him, I just don't want to fight, and I want my friends to stay safe."
"Do not save us at that price," Neville had said. "You shame your parents' memories and their sacrifice with such a choice."
"I think they'd want a live child more than a dead hero," Harry snapped back.
Any common ground they briefly found in a discussion was quickly lost as soon as the first vaguely insulting comment was made.
Harry almost managed to make it to the third and penultimate Tournament task before his run of bad luck struck again. Or perhaps it was more like someone else's bad luck, to be more accurate, that he just got caught up in.
It was on Thursday morning that things went wrong. It wasn't Professor Moody attacking him; that yearly curse seemed to still be held in abeyance. It started innocuously enough, with a note passed to Harry at breakfast from Daphne, who winked at him flirtatiously and mimed the wand gesture for silence (and discretion), before sashaying out of the Great Hall.
"Oh ho! Someone's popular today!" Ron joked.
"I thought she'd given up, honestly," Harry said, with a sigh, opening up the tiny folded scrap of note and reading it carefully sheltered in the palm of his hand. "I could've sworn she… huh."
"What is it? She wants some alone time with you?" Thomas asked, elbowing his friend Ron in the ribs. The two of them snickered at the face Harry made.
"Something like that. I think I'll have to have a talk with her," Harry said thoughtfully, glancing again at the note.
"SB calls on you to fulfil the promise for help you made. Meet us in Dungeon Room Four, discreetly, and hurry if you want her to live!"
He'd thought at the start of the note it was about Sirius, but of course he wasn't the only person in the world with those initials. The 'her' had to be Susan Bones, obviously, and she was clearly in a world of trouble to be calling on him.
Harry's mind whirled. He'd made a plan for this… well, the start of a plan… but it had relied partially on Hermione still being friends with him. She wasn't the best choice for an alibi while he did something illegal, but he needed her for the spell he'd taught her.
"I think I'll need a chaperone, honestly. Hermione? Would you please do the honours?"
"No," she said shortly. "I have to prepare for Transfiguration class."
"Please? Look at this note first, before you say no. Daphne is being SO insistent. I need another girl there." He pressed it into her hand, and she glanced down at the note, reading it swiftly almost as an automatic reflex.
"Oh. OH! Yes, I can see why you need a chaperone," Hermione said, wide-eyed. "Alright."
The others at the table, with the exception of Neville, snickered and elbowed each other at her response and at Harry's embarrassed face. Neville just looked perplexed. His brow furrowed and a suspicious look formed in his soft hazel eyes.
"I'll meet you there, I have to swing by the dorm first," Harry said.
"You'll hurry?" Hermione checked. "Uh… I don't want to be on my own. She'll just be mad that you're not there."
"Of course," Harry said. "Don't tell anyone what she said, okay? This is embarrassing enough without it being gossiped about. Promise?"
Hermione gave a firm nod. "I promise."
Hermione left right away, and Harry grabbed his bag and strode out of the room. Once out of sight of the bulk of students he dashed up to the Gryffindor dorm and grabbed supplies; his invisibility cloak, the half-finished 'Golden Trio Map' they'd been working on (Neville had returned it, saying they didn't feel like co-operating on it right now), his broom (shrunken), and his Healer's bag. He shoved the lot of them inside his school bag, emptying out a few books so they'd fit.
He hurried down to meet Susan, dashing when the corridors were empty of people or portraits, and merely walking quickly when he thought he'd be observed. He arrived at the empty classroom and tried the door – locked.
He knocked softly. "Daphne? It's Harry," he called out, and the door clicked open and he was ushered inside, the door closed and magically locked behind him by Hermione.
Susan was there, shaking a little, her hands rubbing at her upper arms nervously. Her face looked blotchy, like she'd been crying but had pulled herself together. A trunk with her initials on the lid was on the floor nearby, like she'd packed in the expectation she would be leaving and never coming back.
Daphne was pacing nervously, and Hermione stood sentinel at the door.
"You said… you had a plan. I need to know the plan now, Harry," Susan said. "I got an anonymous owl this morning warning me they are coming for me… I have a couple of hours, maybe less. Hannah and Megan are covering for me, but 'twill not last forever. I am glad Hannah is helping even though she is scared of me sometimes. Neither of them will talk, but sooner or later someone will realise I am not really sleeping in."
"The plan is to sneak you out of Hogwarts to a safe location. Can I see the letter?"
She passed it over. He didn't recognise the handwriting, and it wasn't signed.
"Run, sister! The Ministry has heard about Hogsmeade and they are coming after classes start to take you to Azkaban, or to your execution if you resist arrest. GO NOW!"
Well, that seemed clear enough, and he could see why she wouldn't want to take a chance on it being a fake warning.
"I think it's from another werewolf," Hermione said. "She doesn't have a sister."
"Plausible," agreed Harry. "Who knows I'm helping you?"
"No-one except those here. I told Hannah and Megan I would get out and not to worry, that's all."
Harry felt relieved to hear it. This should be manageable. "Right. First thing we need to do is provide some cover. My glamour spell – the one you insisted I teach you – that's what you're here for, Hermione. And because I can trust you to help Susan, of course. I want you go to Transfiguration class in my place."
Hermione nodded. "Since McGonagall's letting you do last-minute practice in another room – just with me when you need a helper – for the next task, I won't need to talk, with any luck. Your spell doesn't change voices… that might be tricky if I need to say something. And… won't she wonder where I am? We don't want any teachers getting suspicious of any of us."
"I have a double free period since I don't have a third elective – a lot of Slytherins do as that's the timeslot for the few doing Muggle Studies. I could cover for you, Hermione," Daphne volunteered, "and pretend to be you, if you can teach me Harry's spell in time. And I know a spell that can change the pitch of your voice a bit. It should work until I have to go to Ancient Runes in third period, anyway. You know what Babbling is like – she wants a lot of class participation."
Hermione gave a small smile. "That's a good idea, and very kind, but I think it would be easier if you were Harry, and I just stayed myself, if you can learn the charm in time. You already know the voice spell so will do a better job pretending to be him. Then I can cover for you if you make any mistakes and do all the talking to McGonagall. You are probably going to be a better actor than me, too. If you can't learn it in time though, I'll be Harry."
"Oh. Yes," Daphne said, looking embarrassed. "That is a better plan. Do you think I can learn it fast enough?"
"Yes, I'm sure you can learn it if you try; you do Arithmancy too, and that can help with getting newly created spells right. Can you be back before third period, Harry?"
"Yes, I think so, but I have a free period then anyway, so I've got until the end of lunch. Daphne can stop being me after Transfiguration; if I get back early I'll lie low until then. We certainly can't continue this any longer than lunchtime – Professor Moody would no doubt see through any disguises in an instant."
Harry thought for a moment and added, "All the Weasleys owe me favours – Ginny's is a Life Debt – and Draco and Millicent owe major favours too. Call on any of them for cover if you need to. I will of course be in your debt for your help today, because what's being asked is dangerous."
"You owe me nothing this time," Daphne insisted, "and we are all helping her, not you... so she would be the one owing favours in any case. No offence intended, of course."
Hermione nodded in fervent agreement. "No debt required, Harry. It's like helping a slave escape to freedom, not like helping a criminal! It might be against the law but it's the right thing to do. The laws against werewolves, and against helping them, are prejudiced and stupid laws, and I am proud to help you break them."
"I will be in all of your debt if this works. A Life Debt," Susan pronounced.
Hermione started decrying the need for such a thing, though Daphne and Harry took her offer in their stride.
"Look, we don't have time to argue about it," Harry said. "I have to get Susan out of here, and you need to practice my spell with Daphne if she's going to be able to cover for me. It took me ages to master it, and she only has hours."
Harry passed over an autographed photo of himself from the front pocket of his bag, as a reference to help Daphne practice her glamour.
"You carry these around all the time?" Daphne asked, distractedly amused.
"Mock him later," Hermione said sternly, all business now.
With an amused nod of agreement from Daphne, the two girls moved away to a corner of the room to work on Harry's glamour spell.
Harry meanwhile got his cloak out and passed it to Susan. "Invisibility cloak. Shrink your trunk and put it in your pocket. Wand away too – you can not use it or you'll be tracked. Now, I need a disguise of my own."
"Not Antares Black," Susan warned, shrinking her belongings obediently. "Everyone knows about that now."
"You're right, someone else. Transvorto visagus," Harry incanted, with a spiralling motion of his wand, echoing Daphne's attempts on the other side of the room. His hair glimmered and changed to bright red, and his face was suddenly awash with freckles.
"Gred Weasley at your service," Harry said, with a bow. "There's two of them, so multiple sightings at different points in the castle won't be confusing."
"Not exactly like him, but it's very close and you should definitely pass at a distance. But what if they're together all morning?" Susan worried.
Harry shrugged. "Then someone will think it's a prank or trick. They like you anyway, they'll help cover for you if needed."
"George didn't like me that much," Susan sighed. "He ended up with that Durmstrang girl."
Harry resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. At a time like this she was worried about romance. This is why it was all so ridiculous; she should focus on what was really important. "Follow me."
"Wait! Where? What if we're seen?" Susan asked. "I want to know the plan before we go anywhere; if I can't talk for fear of being spotted you have to tell me where we're going."
Yes, that's fair, Harry thought.
"A secret passage to Hogsmeade. It's one Filch and the teachers don't know about. It's beneath a one-eyed witch statue by the stairs to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom; it leads straight to the cellar of Honeyduke's. Then, we sneak away then fly on my broom until we're getting close to a safe house in a nearby Muggle town. You can leave my cloak there."
"No way! Professor Moody can see through invisibility cloaks!" Susan said. "It's right next to his classroom, are you serious?! You might not know what he was like in the last war, but my aunt warned me; he was a good Auror but brutal against Dark creatures and wizards. 'Get them before they get you!' was his motto right after 'Constant Vigilance!'. If the Ministry calls him in to help… No."
"Well, where do you want to go? The Durmstrang ship? Somewhere you can contact your aunt?"
"No, they will not protect me, they legally cannot as I am still an English citizen. They probably would if I was in Norway, but… not here. And the Durmstrang ship will be one of the first places the Ministry looks for me – I cannot hide there, it is too obvious. And I do not know if Aunt Amelia knows what is going on. I cannot risk contacting her... she will be watched. If she is not involved, that is. I hope she is not. I guess… I like your safe house idea, but only if we won't be caught."
"Right. Well, we can go through the Forbidden Forest."
But Susan didn't like that idea either, which Harry found frustrating but understandable.
"Hufflepuff has Care of Magical Creatures first thing," she explained, "and Professors Hagrid and Macnair will be roaming about near there. I can't risk Professor Macnair seeing me either – he executes werewolves for the Ministry. He is probably the one they will send after me."
She shivered nervously, rubbing at her arms again. "Do you think the Aurors are here yet? I thought of sneaking out already, Harry, but if they will be here any minute I dare not try…"
"I have a plan for that too," Harry said quietly, getting the magical map out of his bag. Hermione and Neville had done some extra work on it over the holidays before their hissy fit over his truce with the Dark Lord had seen them quit, and it showed names now with reasonable reliability, though it still needed a lot of refinement.
"You have a lot of plans…"
A good thing, too, given how she keeps shooting down my ideas, Harry thought with frustration.
"I solemnly swear to use this responsibly," he whispered, ignoring her as he tapped the map with his wand.
He scanned it quickly – Professor Moody was nowhere nearby, and neither was Macnair. They were probably amongst the hundreds squashed in the Great Hall eating breakfast. The map would be great late at night when everyone was in their dorms and people in the hallways would stand out. Any time a room or hallway was very crowded it was close to useless, however; there were too many names superimposed on top of each other.
"No-one new outside yet, and no sign of either of the Professors. No… there's Macnair, he's headed outside. The Headmaster is up in his tower with McGonagall and Sprout… nothing else is standing out."
"That's amazing," Susan said, peering at the map. "So, any other ideas? Please tell me you have other ideas on how to get me to your werewolf safe house. A Portkey, perhaps?"
"Yes… no. I have a Portkey," – Snape's stone torus charm he now wore as a hidden bracelet for easier access – "but it will only work for me. But I have two other ways to smuggle you out of Hogwarts."
"Nowhere anyone will watch? Because sneaking through Hogsmeade sounds risky. They are still on high alert there for anything suspicious."
"We won't go near it, or Moody or Macnair. Time to go, we're running out of options and time. If we don't hurry classes will start and the corridors will be crowded and you'll be missed in class. Come on, you can be one of the very few to ever see the Chamber of Secrets," he whispered quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the other girls.
Finally there was a plan she didn't argue against. Susan tossed the invisibility cloak over herself as he slunk outside. He played Orpheus to Susan's Eurydice, not looking back and trusting only in the soft sound of footfalls behind him to prove that she still was following behind him. He strolled casually through the hallways up to the boys' bathroom on the Fourth Floor, glancing at the map occasionally to make sure no teachers were around, or the Weasley twins. As he entered the bathroom he held the door open longer than he usually would as he entered. Good – there was no-one in there right now.
"You still with me?" he whispered, after the door had swung shut.
Susan whispered back as soft as thistledown. "Yes. I hope you have a good reason for us being here. I thought the entrance was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom? And warded?"
"That's where the entrance people know about is. This is another one. This might be a squeeze." Harry entered the cubicle with the secret entrance, and Susan squashed in behind him.
He couldn't see her, but he could feel her pressed up against his back. They awkwardly manoeuvred around until they could lock the cubicle door behind them, and then headed down the secret passage to the Chamber of Secrets that had opened obediently to Harry's hissed command.
He gave the snake statues little reassuring greetings as he passed them on the way down.
"Greetings Heir. You look different."
"Hello again!" he replied. "I'll fix my face back in a minute."
"You are followed, Heir."
"I know, she is a friend, don't attack."
"Harry? Can I take the cloak off?" Susan checked.
"Yes, no-one will see you down here, and it's making the guardians nervous. The snake statues, that is. Don't bother them, they might bite you."
He led her into the main chamber and waited with a certain amount of pride as she looked around, absent-mindedly taking his cloak back for the time being, when she passed it to him.
He'd done a lot of work cleaning up the Chamber over the past couple of years, especially this year. The lights gleamed brightly, glowing more strongly now that he'd made a blood sacrifice to help renew the local enchantments. The stonework was dusted, the floor polished clean, and the murky pool that had been blocked up and slimy was now clean and sparkling, with an occasional fish darting around that had swum in from the Black Lake. Salazar's statue was in tip-top shape, dusted and clean with some strengthening and repair charms fixing a few little chips and cracks. Harry had plans to get Kreacher and Dobby to sew him up some banners with the Slytherin crest on them over summer; this place would look wicked cool with some banners on the wall like Ambrosius said it used to have.
"This is amazing!" Susan said, looking around.
"Thank you," Harry said proudly, as he let his features revert back to normal. "So, we're safe here, and can take a moment to discuss how we get you out of here and to Grantown-on-Spey – that's the Muggle village nearest to Hogwarts."
Both of them yelped in surprise, and Harry instinctively cast a Shield Charm, when a ghostly blue horse suddenly galloped through the wall. A proud stallion which tossed its maned head about in agitation as if wary of pursuit.
It didn't attack though, for it wasn't a ghost or an attack spell but a Patronus, and it had arrived to carry a message. It whispered in a young man's voice, "Run for it, Bones! They are searching the dorms for you, and Sprout hinted strongly it is best you not be found. Get out of the castle!"
Susan moaned in worry. "It was real, the warning was real."
"Who was that?" Harry asked. The voice sounded familiar, and he knew someone had a horse Patronus, but he couldn't remember who.
"Diggory. He looks after all of us, he's the best prefect ever, even with all his own troubles. A way out, Harry, I need a way out," she said, her desperation growing.
"Right, so, option one – underwater exit. It's the least likely to be spotted, with all the Durmstrang students in classes in the castle. That is the best and easiest one. We get out through an underwater tunnel in the pool over there. It's a bit far down and dark so you'll need to dive and swim deep, but I can cast the Bubble-Head Charm and–"
Susan shook her head and interrupted him. "Sorry, but I can't swim, no-one ever taught me how. I only doggy-paddle."
Harry sighed. Why must she keep shooting down all his plans? "Are you sure? We need to get you out, and that's the safest way."
"To the werewolf safe house. It's not… Fenrir, is it? Because I swear on the honour of the House of Bones I will never join him. My aunt's told me all about him – much more than the papers ever hear about – and I would rather die. Your contact… are they a nice werewolf?"
"It's not Fenrir, and yes, it's someone kind. His reputation is worse than harpy dung right now, but he's really very kind. I know he'll help you."
"It is Professor Lupin, isn't it," Susan guessed shrewdly.
"He didn't commit the crimes he confessed to," Harry promised. "That was just to help boost Sirius' reputation so he would get a fair trial. Well, except for a couple of bits about fighting me and Ron, but even that was exaggerated and we've both forgiven him."
"Swear it. On your Houses' honour."
Harry so swore, by all three Houses he laid claim to, and that seemed to satisfy her. Perhaps because of the formality of it, or perhaps because she was really out of choices except for trusting him.
"Are you sure you can't swim? Not even if I'm helping you?" Harry checked. "There's only one other way out of here that I know of, not counting Myrtle's bathroom which will set off an alarm. The alternative umm… involves a snake. How do you feel about snakes?"
"Friendly snakes are fine. Storm is a cutie."
"How about something… a bit bigger?"
Susan laughed nervously. "So long as it's not Basilisk-sized, I think I'll be fine. There's no Professor Lockhart around to save us, after all."
Harry smoothed his hair down as he nervously told her, "I have good news… and some bad news."
-000-
"Why are we riding the Basilisk?" Susan asked, hands clinging tightly to Harry's waist. "We could just walk beside it."
Harry blinked, startled by her question. She couldn't see his reaction – both of them had blindfolds on. "Well, we need her to get us past some enchantments I told you about that will otherwise have us pretty much freeze in place. We could walk, I suppose. But this way we won't trip blindly over stuff. Besides, isn't it so much cooler this way?"
Susan laughed. It was the happiest she'd sounded all morning.
"We are almost outside, Harold," Custos hissed. "Tell the werewolf that she should not try to get me to eat her."
"I warned her about the enchantment already; she promised she'd be ready, and she's ssstuck to your back with a Sssticking Charm in any case. I'll undo it when we're well in the forest. If you sssense anyone out there, warn us, alright?"
Custos promised she would.
Susan couldn't undo the Sticking Charm even if she wanted to; she'd given her wand to Harry to hold onto for the time being so she wouldn't forget about the Ministry's tracking charms and accidentally use it. Harry didn't tell Susan, but he'd also been a little concerned that Susan might panic when Custos emerged from hiding and would try and attack her. It was partly why he'd suggested her passing over her wand (the other reason was because pure-bloods used their wands as easily as they breathed, and he pessimistically thought she'd forget). However, she'd been an absolute champ about it all and he was glad he'd been worried for nothing.
They slithered through the prey-entrancing warded area quickly and were out the other side while Susan was still trying to explain to Harry how it was important that he let her off the snake so she could stand nice and still.
Harry undid the Sticking Charms on them both, and they slid carefully to the ground. Custos said her farewells and headed straight back into the Chamber of Secrets, satisfied with his thanks and the promise of a snack the next time he woke her up. He had vague plans to get his house-elves to help, next time.
"Oh dear, that was very… disconcerting. Is she gone?" Susan asked. "You were hissing." She fussily smoothed out the wrinkles in her ankle-length black velvet skirt which, paired with a long-sleeved blouse, was the best imitation of Muggle fashion she could approximate with what she'd hastily packed. She'd gotten changed in the Chamber of Secrets, with Harry's back politely turned and his eyes firmly fixed on the map, keeping a track of anyone unusual who might be loitering around Hogwarts, especially near any of the secret passageway entrances to the Chamber. She clearly thought her clothes were perfect, and proudly said that she'd gotten an O for her outfit and mock conversation in the practical portion of the Muggle Studies test last year. He hadn't had the heart to criticize her out-of-date look at a time like this. It would pass, and that's all that mattered.
"Yes, it's safe, you can take your blindfold off. I was just saying goodbye."
Susan took her blindfold off too.
"You know it's one thing to hear that you are the Heir of Slytherin, but a whole different thing to actually see the Chamber of Secrets, and learn that the Basilisk is actually still alive, and friendly, at least to you! I mean, I had heard gossip that half of Lockhart's book was fake but… Merlin, that's a big difference. Aunt Amelia's going to be fascinated!"
As Harry dug his broomstick and cloak out of his bag, Susan babbled about how interested everyone was going to be to hear the truth about the Chamber, and the Basilisk, and how awesome it was that there were these secret passages she could escape through, Harry started fretting and reminded her those were family secrets.
When she started asking questions about whether You-Know-Who was really behind the diary like the Weasleys insisted, and what that meant for Harry's endorsement of Lockhart's book, and for what the Death Eaters and Lord Missing Finger had been shouting about in Hogsmeade, Harry dodged and evaded questions and started panicking.
"Look, I'd really rather you didn't tell anyone about the Chamber. Or the Basilisk. Or anything, really."
"I understand you don't trust the Ministry much right now, neither do I, but the Headmaster at least should know about the Basilisk, Harry. It did petrify people and could easily kill people if you are not around to stop it."
"She won't."
"You cannot be sure of that. Especially if You-Know-Who gets involved again, somehow! So, how is Pettigrew all mixed up in this, exactly, claiming he's uh, him? He and that Death Eater – the one Neville thought was Bellatrix Lestrange, in Hogsmeade they said something about children–"
Harry knew what they'd said and thought this line of questioning wasn't going to go anywhere good for him.
"Could you save this for later?" Harry pleaded, hands clenched with nervous tension. "I didn't want to worry you, but while we were in the Chamber of Secrets I saw some unfamiliar names on the map up in the Headmaster's office."
It was all perfectly true… and a good distraction.
He handed over the enchanted map for Susan to check for herself, while he got out his wand. She wasn't paying attention. It would be easy to Obliviate her. He wouldn't even have to look her in the eyes while he did it.
"Proudfoot and… who is that? Daw-something. Dawlish? Yes, there you go, move to the other side of the room so I can see your name. John Dawlish," Susan muttered to herself. "We need to hurry."
"Yes," Harry said, drawing out his wand. It would be so easy to ensure all his secrets remained safe. She didn't even have her wand. He wouldn't have to erase much and could even tell her she'd agreed to be Obliviated, even though it was technically illegal to cast the spell on a witch or wizard, unless you were an authorised Obliviator. She'd probably believe him.
It would be easy… but would it be right? On the other hand, did he dare not erase her memories, with all the risk that entailed for him?
He raised his wand.
I know, I know, it's a cliffhanger and I'm evil. *ducks and hides* Later readers will only have to click "next chapter", but loyal followers of the WIP as it's posted will suffer for a while.
The first line of Ovid's most famous work, "Metamorphoses" translates as: "I intend to speak of forms changed into new entities." Voldemort's been smugly trolling for some time.
Who was surprised, who spotted clues along the way, and who knew all along since his appearance in France in the last fic? :) I know some of you figured it out right away!
Hermione quotes Archbishop Desmond Tutu in this chapter: "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality."