XI. Launch
Around a week between updates? What is this, late 2020? And such a long chapter too...
At long last, spaaaace
The Headmaster made an announcement over their meal one day, a remarkably serious look on the typically jovial man's face.
"Ahem. According to an anonymous tip…" Dumbledore seemed to have opinions about the anonymity of the tip, but didn't share them, "a dark artifact of the most terrible sort has been smuggled into Hogwarts, with the appearance of a diary. If you have any information about such an item, please inform the teachers immediately."
Harry gulped. Welp. He wanted to go off somewhere and interrogate Tom about what exactly all this meant, but he knew that pulling out the diary now would be the apex of stupidity. As if to hammer in the point that something was up, the Daily Prophet arrived soon, and… well:
DARK ARTIFACT SMUGGLED INTO HOGWARTS UNDER DUMBLEDORE'S NOSE?
The article didn't really expand on the issue any more than Dumbledore already had, although it was much more sensational, ranting about the scandal of the issue and Dumbledore's negligence. However, there was something else notable: the implication that a ministry investigation was one the way, to comb over the castle and protect the children of wizarding Britain.
Strangely, Lockhart seemed to be sweating a little as he read the newspaper, although Harry didn't think that he had much to fear. Unless there was another magical diary floating around, Harry was the only person that this search was going to effect- so he did his best to school his expression and stay calm, trying to laugh it off with his friends.
Of course, his friends had noticed his recent trend of writing in a diary that he had never had before- the connection was not the hardest to make, in all honesty. So they scooted over in Harry's direction.
"Harry… you uh, see any haunted diaries around?" Ron asked.
"Why Ron- do you think I wouldn't immediately report something like that to the teachers?" At the very least, Harry seemed to appreciate the irony in his statement.
"Harry, you don't know how dangerous artifacts like this can be…" Neville said.
"Not all diaries are evil, you know." Harry shot back. "If you'd like, I could show it to you later- bland as bread, I promise." He could get Tom to fake it- hopefully, he had gotten a good grasp on Harry's calligraphy by now.
It took a bit of time to get to somewhere where Harry actually felt comfortable talking with Tom- he didn't want to make anyone suspicious (or more suspicious) of his actions. Of course, he filled Tom in on the search for him.
Maybe we could hide you away somewhere? Harry suggested. Somewhere in the Room of Requirement or maybe the Chamber? You'd be impossible to find there.
Do you think they'll stop with just a search of Hogwarts? What if they start searching student's bags on the train? They'll probably catch me, and even the ship.
Harry gulped at that- he had put a lot of work into the ship, he couldn't loose it when he was so close to being home free.
So what do you suggest then?
If they're searching for a diary, all we need to do is give them one.
I don't have another diary on me, Tom.
Well, we do have the one you're currently writing in.
But it's like your body! We can't just give it away! Harry wrote.
Harry, I will remind you that you live in a school with ghosts. If that's not proof that something- perhaps the soul- exists without the body, I don't know what is. Tom's ink flowed on the page. I can adapt to some other medium.
Like what? Can you just… lodge a soul anywhere?
At the very least, a diary works- not sure if I want to test it with a rock, though.
Well, what do you think would be best, Tom?
Preferably, something you could bring along with you- something subtle, but something we could communicate through…
Maybe you could learn morse code? Harry suggested.
That would work, I suppose- I wonder if I could possess one of those muggle electronic devices you talked about.
I wonder how that would work… but I can't get my hands on those either…
Well, there's one idea, although I'm loath to suggest it…
What?
I could hitch a ride with you.
Like, a possession or something? Harry gulped.
That's a bit of a strong word, but that's why I didn't want to suggest it- letting anything into your skull is pretty dangerous.
Alright, can we do some sort of magical oath?
What kind of oath?
You'll promise to not like, possess me, and in exchange I'll do my best to get you something like an actual body.
Dammit, how was Tom supposed to refuse an offer like that without burning bridges with Harry? He would have to promise, at the bare minimum, no possessions, but there was no reason he couldn't add an extra clause into the oath, just in case...
Well what if something happened? No offense to you, Harry, but you're not exactly the greatest duelist- you don't have the spellcasting experience I do. Just in case you get in over your head…
Only in a case of clear and present danger, then? Harry responded- it was sort of legal sounding, probably Harry's intent, but Tom already came up a loophole already: he knew of several magical poisons that took a long time to do their dirty work (and that had antidotes, importantly). Dosing on those poisons could work around the letter of the potential contract, if not the spirit.
That sounds reasonable- I can't have you dying on me, when there's so much left to do.
You don't need hands to agree to a magical oath, right?
Horcruxes were unnaturally durable because of the souls contained within them- that instinct towards survival that first compelled the person to make a Horcrux strengthened the object, making it incredibly difficult to destroy. There was nothing inherent about that durability, it was only the result of the soul held within- if the soul made a clean exit, there would be no damage, but once again… Horcruxes only existed because of a refusal to make peace with that final, universal exit, so to speak.
Before Tom could jump ship to Harry- who was trying to open his mind, to allow Tom in- he needed to provide a reasonable cover. With all the ease of flexing a muscle, Tom filled the diary with pages upon pages of ramblings in Harry's handwriting, in a (fairly) close mimicry of Harry's style. Lots of it was speculation about the nature of magic and potential uses for it- he made sure to add a slightly childish tinge to it, of course. Nothing revolutionary- the sort of thing a grown, 'reasonable' wizard would read a few pages of before rolling their eyes and closing the diary.
He even took the liberty of adding some sketches- Tom had grown fairly decent at it by this point- of hypothetical magical machinery. Perpetual motion machines which could power the whole of the mundane world, strange mixes between magical and muggle technology (although carefully picked technology- nothing too modern).
Oddly, Tom was struck with a strange sort of melancholy- the diary had been his home for decades, his domain and yet, the curtain that separated him from the real world. He was honestly a little anxious to have an actual body, even if he had to borrow it. Sometimes you had to leave the old things behind and move onto the new- the diary was about as big of a dead end as you could reasonably find.
With that business handled, he left for the mind of Harry Potter- it was strange working his way into the mind of someone who wasn't resisting. Sure, the Weasley brat was no Occlumens, but it was still tough for a weak spirit like him. Compared to that, Harry Potter was practically beckoning from an open doorway- there was the just the problem of his potential roommate.
If it had to go by a name, it would prefer Lord Voldemort- that was what the little fragment of soul considered itself to be, along with the eighth Horcrux. Its very existence was probably bad luck, in a numerical sense- oh how magic loved the number seven, and here it was, bungling that up.
The Eighth was not exactly in what you would call a superb state, mentally or otherwise- it could barely be said to have a physical state at all unless you counted the lightning shaped scar tissue across Harry Potter's face. It was, to put it quite simply, a bit of a botch job- all it could really do was observe Potter's mind, insert the odd nightmare, make him a Parselmouth, and otherwise seethe.
In addition to the instability caused by no longer having a neat seven Horcruxes, there was also the issue of the state of the soul itself, broken again and again and again, a horrific mauling that was ironically done in hopes of saving it. Voldemort certain wasn't lacking in magical power- but as time went on, the Horcruxes grew more vile… more deranged. The Horcrux in the Diary was about as whole as a shattered fragment of a soul could get, especially in comparison to the corrupted sliver of Voldemort that resided in Harry Potter's skull.
Harry Potter had never really noticed his uninvited passenger, having lived with it for the majority of his life and just about every moment he could remember in detail, but when Tom Riddle sashayed in… well, he certainly noticed what was going on. He had known that Potter was carrying around this… thing for a while, but now Tom could actually do something about it.
If he had lips, he would have probably licked them- this would make things a lot easier. While the other Horcrux was still processing what exactly was going on, like the fact that it actually had a guest in Potter's mindspace… Tom struck, and he didn't plan on showing mercy.
A vicious mental strike divided the soul yet again- one piece was little more than the part of the soul that made one a natural Parselmouth, while Tom Marvolo Riddle quickly subsumed the rest, easily overwhelming it- Tom was the first, after all, and he wasn't nearly as deranged as the Eighth.
The end result was not much different from the original Tom Marvolo Riddle (the First Horcrux, not the Eighth), other than the addition of a lifetime's extra memories. Two fragments had become one- although the union was clearly dominated by the mind of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the greater fragment, the one that had only undergone the abuse of being split once.
However, he did make sure to leave Harry a little scrap- just enough to keep him speaking Parselmouth like a natural. What use was his brand new host if he didn't survive his next meeting with Sage?
Harry had a hard time describing how odd sharing his… mind? Brain? He wasn't entirely sure how to describe it, honestly, but whatever the case, Tom was hitching a ride.
That's an awfully strange way to refer to this situation, you know.
I suppose, but it's not like this sort of thing is very common. Harry responded- or thought. No offense Tom, but could you maybe not pry into my thoughts? It's weird.
And what do you propose instead? That you think in my direction?
Something like that- I'm not prying into your thoughts, you know.
...Fair. So what's your brilliant plan for giving me a body I can use? If it's some sort of muggle robot thing, I refuse.
I was thinking something more magical- are homunculi a thing? Golems?
Creating homunculi and golems? Awfully ambitious of you, Harry. How do you know you can even pull it off?
What's wrong with a little ambition? The hat said I'd do well in Slytherin- honestly, I think it's a bit silly to make sweeping judgments about someone from their values at age 11, but whatever… we'll figure it out.
I hope I'm not waiting for too long.
At Tom's urging, Harry had gone back to the Room of Requirement, in search of a Diadem- if Tom was correct, it was Ravenclaw's Diadem, and he managed to pick it out when he had gotten a glimpse at Harry's memories (that was creepy to think about, but there wasn't much he could do about it now). The promise of increased wisdom was certainly something.
Some part of Harry wondered why no one else tried to replicate such a feat- why weren't Hogwarts students sold belts of wisdom before going to school, or why didn't upper years try to smuggle in enchanted rings to their exams? Were the enchantments to increase wisdom really that difficult? Were they just forgotten?
Roaming through the great piles of discarded things was pretty interesting, and perhaps a little… melancholic? Presumably, this was the refuse of entire generations of the wizarding world, years of students who came to Hogwarts and presumably left their own impacts, whether big or small.
He supposed that fewer people left bigger impacts on this school than Rowena Ravenclaw- she was one fourth of the reason it was here in the first place- and that Diadem was definitely part of her legacy. If something that useful was just lying around, that was a shame.
With a bit of careful guidance from Tom, he found his way to the where the Diadem was placed, sitting on the ground as if it had been simply tossed to the side. It was aged looking, the silver metal visibly tarnished in several places, although that only served to make the crystal detailing even more outstanding in contrast.
Some part of him felt a deep, overwhelming urge to clean the thing or maybe even bring a sander or something to it (how much of the original diadem had to remain in order to have the spells working properly?), but cleaning was secondary- all the great things he could do with the Diadem…
He chuckled, set the Diadem on his head, and immediately blacked out.
As Harry gently placed the Diadem on his head, Tom prepared himself to absorb the next piece of Voldemort. Was Riddle actively sabotaging another version of himself by hunting down the Horcruxes he could? Oh yes, absolutely- but Tom Riddle was removed from what Lord Voldemort had become by decades- frankly, whatever ghostly remnant of Voldemort was out there could sink or swim on his own merits, every shard of the soul for itself.
Unfortunately, he didn't really have the time to wax philosophical about whether or not he was somehow more or less valuable than the original soul (if Tom couldn't be considered the original- or at least part of it)- he needed to eat the fragment that was hidden away in the Diadem, after all. At least, that was the plan before the Diadem fragment went on the offensive- that wasn't good.
Almost immediately, Harry was knocked out by the dark power of the fragment within the Diadem- had it somehow been strengthened by the powerful enchantments applied by Rowena Ravenclaw all those years ago?- and Tom had to take over the mental battle. Thankfully, between Tom and Harry of them, the former was the better mental combatant (not saying much, considering Harry barely understood what Legilimency was), which meant he could start to push back against the Diadem's fragment.
Worryingly, the fragment was cunning- it set baits and gave the appearance of being weak where it was strong and strong where it was weak. As Harry slumped to the floor, they grappled mentally, pushing and clawing- fortunately, Tom was a little more… whole than his foe, more than strong enough to brute force his way past the other's strategies. Even then, the fragment would occasionally get around him, sending feelers deep into both his mind, and Harry's more vulnerable psyche (that was Tom's to take over, thank you kindly!). Still, Tom fought with all his might- he was certain the Diadem's fragment had caught glimpses of Tom's absorption trick, and he had no interest in getting devoured.
Unfortunately, the fragment was apparently smart enough to know when it should cut its losses and make a retreat- and with a howling, shrieking sound, it fled from the Diadem altogether, leaving little more than faint feeling of something malignant to prove that it had ever been there. Tom couldn't exactly chase it down, but he just knew that it was going to bite him in the ass later.
Lockhart was preparing his great escape from Hogwarts castle- ideally, he would have gone around and Oblivated all of the students he had… done remedial lessons with, but really good, seamless Oblivation jobs took time and energy that he just couldn't spare at the moment. Of course, he had planned on tidying everything up before the year ended, but the Aurors threw a wrench into things. In theory, they weren't going to be investigating him- but he knew Amelia's cronies would be scanning every nook and cranny while the Headmaster let them.
Too deep of a look into his backstory by people that weren't impressionable children or rabid fans would quickly reveal a number of inconsistencies, and he knew that his complex web of lies would collapse in spectacular fashion. From there, if they realized that he was canoodling with eligible pureblood bachelorettes… they would have his ass in court.
Perhaps he could go off to some foreign country and start searching for another story to claim was his own- somewhere particularly far flung, but not too dangerous. It would also help if he wasn't too famous (or infamous) there… it would be better not to attract too much attention.
Perhaps just vanishing off the map for a while would be pretty good- build up some mystique around where he went, let any suspicions cool down, very easy. Somewhere nice and sunny, perhaps? No, that might have been a little too obvious, thinking about it. Hmm… What about Albania? Albania sounded pretty nice, actually. He barely remembered that it was actually a country at all, which should help with loosing anyone who trailed him.
When Harry came to, he was on the floor, the diadem sitting next to him. What happened?
The diadem was cursed- perhaps that was the reason that it was hidden away here?
Do you think the curse wore off, or did I just get spared because it fell off of my head?
I think it was something temporary, but I'm not certain- perhaps we could try learning some analysis spells first?
And here I was hoping I'd get Ravenclaw's Diadem out of this. Harry frowned, before carefully picking up the Diadem (with a covered hand, of course) and wrapping it in cloth. Admittedly, he had grabbed it that first time with no ill effects, but no use risking it.
Technically speaking, is this theft?
Well if you consider this room some sort of lost and found… well, we're just taking what someone else didn't use- is it better to just let it sit there, suffering from neglect?
Was there some Heir of Ravenclaw that the Diadem could be returned to, or had her line died out? Considering how long ago she lived, any number of wizards could be descended from her, or would she prefer that the Diadem go to those who would use it best? Interesting questions, but not super relevant- who could he possibly ask about this?
Under significant public pressure, Dumbledore was eventually forced to open the wards and allow Aurors in- and sure enough, the minute the wards were loosened enough to let them in, the Aurors marched in through the Floo. Nearly a dozen of them- clearly, Amelia had pulled out all the stops to scan the castle from top to bottom.
They fanned out in pairs- standard procedure if you liked not getting jumped by any punk who could Disillusion themselves- to look around the castle, as Dumbledore didn't have many tips to give them. For all intents and purposes they were searching for one cursed diary in an entire magical castle- it was an intimidating prospect without all the pressure of saving Magical Britain's children from evil.
Of course, they weren't just going to grope around blindly- they went to ask students about the situation. Unfortunately for them, Ginny Weasley didn't want to become associated with that dark artifact and the cheeky bit of vandalism and cat petrifying that it made her do, and as such didn't say anything.
Still, the Aurors weren't stupid- they knew what to search for, and eventually a pair of Aurors figured out that Harry Potter had been exhibiting some odd changes in behavior, and had recently started writing in a diary.
"Can I help you, uh… Sir Auror? Is that how I address you?" Harry asked.
"Just Auror, or Auror Hastings is fine- it's a title. Mr. Potter, we'd like to talk to you about your diary- we have reason to believe it may be cursed."
Harry blinked. "Alright, sure-" he searched in his bag for a second and pulled out an aged looking diary. "take it. I don't think it's cursed, but I'm no expert."
Before taking it, the Auror cast a few spells- he didn't think there would anything too nasty attached, considering that Potter was handling it with his bare hands, but magic acted strangely sometimes, and hostile enchantments could be oddly specific. After all the checks turned back negative, the Auror gingerly took it with a gloved hand as his partner watched anxiously- but nothing.
He didn't even open the diary normally- he tried to point it away as he opened it, but there was no burst of horrifying magic, no eldritch energies… Turning the book around revealed that the first entry was around Halloween- damned strange time to start writing a diary- and it admittedly looked like the musings of a child. Of course, he wasn't reading the entries of a child's diary in detail, but it seemed like Potter was a bit of a dreamer- he only hoped that those creative energies would be directed into more of a Lily direction and less of a James direction. Hastings still remembered the hell that James raised in Hogwarts…
"Sorry kid, but we'll have to take this in as evidence. I know it doesn't look or even seem evil, but evil artifacts can have deceptive appearances. We'll get it back to you if we can over the summer- do you have a mailing address, Mr. Potter?"
Suddenly, the kid went from calm and collected to pale- why would mailing get him worried? Was it some kind of enchantment that reacted to mail owls, maybe? Well, that was a dramatic assumption, to be honest. "Mr. Potter? Is there some reason we can't mail you? A trip, maybe?"
Harry chuckled. "Something like that, yeah. If it turns out that everything's alright, I suppose you can send it Number 4 Privet Drive."
"We apologize for the inconvenience, Mister Potter." With that handled, the Aurors only had to investigate other cases of bizarre behavior… among a bunch of hormonal teens locked up in a Scottish castle in the middle of nowhere. This was going to be a long job, he was certain.
Honestly, if the Dursleys got the diary in the mail and realized it was his they might just burn it- no big loss considering that Tom migrated to inside of Harry's head. It seemed like he had avoided suspicion from the Auror, and if there was nothing funky going on with the diary, that was basically it, and he was home free.
Honestly, he was kind of excited for the summer, if he could get away from the Dursleys, somewhere really isolated, then he could get to space- and once he had proven that he was capable of reaching orbit, the sky wasn't even the limit anymore. Hopefully he could get to the Burrow as soon as possible- hopefully, he could talk Mr. Weasley into helping him- egg on his curiosity, maybe?
Tom seemed sympathetic about the whole thing- You deserve to live in a house where you don't need to hide part of yourself away- and he supposed that was one bright side about the whole deal. Even if he had to go back to the Dursleys (which he would do everything in his power to avoid for obvious reasons) he wouldn't be completely alone- Tom would be there, a fellow magician in that sea of mundanity.
Hopefully, his summer would be very busy with something more than just plucking weeds or washing dishes.
Admittedly, Harry was a little nervous when he was called to McGonagall's office- his fears were assuaged slightly when Hermione joined him on the way there, but still… What could she possibly need to speak to them about?
Thankfully, they bumped into several students from other houses while on the way to McGonagall's office, which convinced Harry that this was something to do with her role as Deputy Headmistress (hey, why was she fulfilling three roles, as teacher, deputy headmistress, and head of house all at the same time?). There was a notable number of Ravenclaws from his year, a couple of Slytherins- one of them was... Greengrass maybe, he thought? He didn't know them well.
Eventually they all made their way to McGonagall's office, five minutes early, just to be punctual- no one actually showed up any 'later' than five minutes beforehand, which meant some awkward waiting before McGonagall cleared her throat and began speaking.
"I'm glad you all could make the time to meet me here- I know how busy the end of the year can be. Things will only get busier next year, with more classes that you all can take. And that's what I'd like to talk to you all about."
She carefully pulled out a box from under her desk and a key that she kept around her neck, and unlocking the box revealed… a necklace with a strange, timer shaped charm. Several of the students- ones Harry figured were half or pure bloods- gasped audibly when they saw it.
"It seems like some of you are familiar." McGonagall said. "For those of you who aren't- this is a Time Turner, a magical device that allows time travel." Harry nearly fell out of his chair when she said that- the magical world had Time Travel? Really? "And they're part of an opportunity we will be offering to students, beginning next year."
"If any of you would like to take an increased course load- to the point where your schedules no longer work out- a Time Turner would allow students as exceptional as yourselves to take all the classes you desire."
There was a moment of silence before several of the students muttered "Nope" or something similar and just walked out- a little rude, Harry supposed, but telling about the gravity of this offer. Time wasn't something you screwed around with even in the magical world, apparently. Harry wasn't completely sold, but he'd hear McGonagall out, as there was a non-zero chance of getting an actual time machine out of this. Hermione stayed as well.
McGonagall gave a grin when the other students filed out. "Gryffindor courage, huh?" She chuckled. "Of course, we cannot stress how much care should be taken in regards to these Time Turners- from what I understand, there are a number of muggle stories about the dangers of time travel?"
"Hogwarts is really going to risk space-time so students could take a few extra classes?" Harry groaned. "Surely, it would be safer to just say, have a few weekend classes or something? Summer study program, maybe?"
"We have considered those options- neither allows for the quality of education Hogwarts is known for." McGonagall said. "It is simply impossible to fit all of the new classes next year into student's schedule- Care for Magical Creatures, Runes, Arithmancy, Divination," there was a visible rolling of the eyes there, "and Muggle Studies."
Hermione's grin was widening. "Hermione, what are you thinking- you'll learn nothing from Muggle Studies!" Harry hissed.
"Aren't you a little curious about what the wizarding world thinks of the muggle world, Harry? It would be fascinating, I think."
"If I wanted to know what wizards thought of muggles, I'd just ask- do you really think any diehard purebloods are 'lowering' themselves to the point of learning about muggles?"
"Aren't you the least bit interested, Harry?"
"Not really- I think I'll pass on it and Divination as well." Harry could see a faint smile on McGonagall's face when he said that.
"And why is that, Harry?"
"If it was actually worth anything outside of niche circumstances it would be a necessary class, like Charms or Transfiguration, wouldn't it? If Divination could reliably improve your life, they'd make it necessary." Harry would prefer to make his own future instead of scrying it in a crystal ball or something.
McGonagall chuckled. "I suppose that's a no for Divination, Harry? I'll keep it off your schedule."
"Why not take every class you can, Harry? I mean, with the Time Turner, you could do it- more knowledge, right?"
"Sorry, not gonna mess with time travel so I can waste my time staring into a crystal ball." Harry shrugged. "Wait, how many classes do we need to take to get the Time Turner? All of them, or could I squeeze in everything but divination?"
"Unfortunately, you can only fit in two electives, Harry- you'll have to drop the others."
"Nix Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies." Harry answered almost immediately. "I'll take Arithmancy and Runes, please."
"I'll take all of them," Hermione said.
"Really?"
"I'm not going to pass up on learning, Harry."
Despite the scare with Mrs. Norris the cat (who had been cured with some excess mandrake- the rest was sold to help cover the school's costs) they took their exams. Tom had been a major help in his studying- Harry refused to have Tom feed him answers straight up, but was happy to take advice- so things weren't too bad.
Their studying was helped a little by Lockhart's flight from the castle, as that meant one less class- there had been some rumors that one of the other teachers, maybe even Snape, would be administering the exam in Lockhart's absence, using his lesson plans, but there was a minor issue: Lockhart didn't really have any plans for the exams at all.
Other than that wonderful encapsulation of Lockhart's teaching style, there was another reason he wouldn't be returning to the school next year, other than the whole curse on the position. It turned out that he had been… doing some things to the upper year girls that a teacher really shouldn't have been doing.
Quickly, the story about Lockhart's indiscretions eclipsed the story about the enchanted artifact- the alleged danger in the school had led to the discovery of a very real one, which was fitting, in a way. Wherever Lockhart had fled to, he would probably want to stay there for quite a while, considering all the enemies he had made in high society.
Harry supposed that a completely uneventful school year wasn't really possible considering the whole curse thing- which he honestly thought someone would have outsmarted by now, if it was an actual jinx. If it was just on the position of of Defense Against the Dark Arts, then couldn't you basically give the same lessons under a slightly different name- Combating the Dark Arts, perhaps- and change the office accordingly?
Perhaps it's a matter of intent. Tom suggested. Instead of cursing the position, a potential troublemaker could curse the role, or the intent of the position. No dodging that- if it's a curse at all. Surely, if such a spell existed, it would have been used on the Minister of Magic, or some other role of importance.
Fair enough- it just seems like the record with Defense teachers is too bad for it not to be cursed- but is there really that large a pool of potential teachers? One supposedly masterful expert in the Dark Arts, every year?
Maybe Dumbledore should just consider hiring an Auror in training or something- it would be good practice, wouldn't it?
Well, that's something to worry about next school year, yeah? We've got summer first.
Of course, Harry was a little regretful to be riding away from Hogwarts, but now there was actually something he wanted to do this summer, so he was a lot more chipper.
"Blimey, Harry, I thought you hated your muggle relatives." Ron mumbled through a mouthful of candy- Harry had felt a little indulgent, after all, and he had enough money to share.
"Maybe I'm just excited at the prospect of getting to spend time at the Burrow later this summer- do you think if I asked nicely, your parents would invite me?"
"Maybe… I'll ask them about it, I suppose."
"I could talk to Gran…" Neville suggested.
The rest of the train trip passed without much else of note- some good natured complaining about the homework (except from Hermione, of course), some talking about the classes they planned to take- even knowing that Hermione would be provided with an actual time travel device, her load seemed a little extreme. Harry wanted some personal time to focus on his own projects, thank you kindly.
When he asked Mr. Weasley about potentially staying over later in the summer, if he could spare room and if it wasn't too much of a bother... he was supportive of the idea, and even offered to come over and talk to the Dursleys about it. Having Mr. Weasley standing next to him as he met the Dursleys was reassuring- it was a reminder that there were wizards out there who actually cared for Harry's wellbeing, and would be upset if anything happened to him- a reminder for Harry and the Dursleys both.
"If you'd like, I could come and pick up Harry in a couple of weeks?"
"Hell, you can take him now if you'd like." Vernon grumbled.
"Oh he does need to stay with you for a while, but… I think it would be better if he stayed with us for most of the summer." Harry had to agree, and Vernon also seemed to want Harry out of his hair as soon as possible. Of course, he was curious about why he had to stay at the Dursleys in the first place- he figured that if Arthur insisted there was good reason. Maybe it was some sort of guardianship thing? Well, Mr. Weasley had to have a good reason- he seemed to have taken a disliking to the Dursleys.
Thankfully, the mail was actually reaching him now- either Dobby had decided that he was safe, or… well, Harry would prefer not to think about that, actually. He hoped the little guy was alright, and doing something better with his time than trying to keep Harry from going to school.
His mail was fairly interesting, he supposed- Ron had excitedly told him that Mr. Weasley had won some sort of magical lottery, and he would using it to prepare his children for the upcoming school year. It, along with that new dog the Weasleys got, Argos, helped cheer him up when Mr. Weasley had to take Scabbers away.
He got the news, where the big ticket item (after the Lockhart scandal, which saw Dumbledore receiving a bit of flak- if wizards even knew what that was- for hiring him in the first place) was the reveal of Peter Pettigrew's apparent survival. That had been crazy to read about- it cast a lot of doubt on Sirius' arrest and made the trial that he never received major news.
Of course, it was used by Minister Fudge as an example of how the previous administration was wildly corrupt and deprived justice from those who needed it most, etc. etc. No mention was made of the fact that they just sat on the issue and let a man who could have been innocent rot.
In the muggle world this would have been a real caper, Harry supposed, but with magic… Well, all the questions raised by Pettigrew's not so miraculous survival were answered and then some. Truth serum was one hell of a drug.
From there, it all came spilling out: the betrayal of his parents by Pettigrew (although that technically didn't exonerate Sirius from being in cahoots with the dark lord, it provided another culprit), his own faked death, and the Animagus form that allowed him to get away with it all. He also revealed that Sirius was an unregistered Animagus, which technically speaking, was a crime, although a little less severe than like, murder.
The ministry eventually settled on an apology for arresting Sirius for the wrong crime, but were resolute that Mr. Weasley was justified in stopping him after he had stolen a wand and went rogue- Azkaban did things to people, after all. Warped the mind, changed the soul...
Still, the government got a scapegoat out the whole situation- Pettigrew's Order of Merlin was revoked, obviously, and he was apparently dragged to Azkaban ranting about the return of the dark lord and other such stuff- the papers dismissed it as the ravings of a lunatic… but Harry took note. Voldemort couldn't even be trusted to stay dead, could he?
The fortnight spent at the Dursleys was… not particularly enjoyable. He still had to work for them, and they knew he couldn't just go casting spells willy nilly, but at the same time they were aware that he was going to be visited by an adult wizard soon, so the worst they could really do was try to fit an entire summer's worth of chores into a couple of weeks.
He was out plucking weeds and talking with Tom about the logistics of growing plants in space when he saw the Weasley family car- what was the mileage on a magical car, he wondered- which came to a stop at Number 4. Arthur stepped out, and Harry tried not to cringe- he was unfashionable, certainly, although Harry did relish the idea of the neighborhood rumor mill mocking the Dursleys a bit for their odd visitor- they deserved it.
"Harry! What are you doing here in the yard?"
"Oh, just plucking out some weeds- it's like herbology, but without the magic. Or fun." Arthur's eyes narrowed a little as he brushed his hands on his oversized pants which were hand-me-downs from Dudley, of course.
"Are you already packed, Harry?"
"Of course." Harry grinned.
Harry was curious if wizards actually got their driver's licenses normally or if they just used magic on any officers that got too suspicious. Mr. Weasley honestly wasn't the greatest driver (not to say Harry could do much better, admittedly) and it seemed like there were far too many near misses for it to be chance. Not that Harry was complaining if it kept them from getting in accidents.
Admittedly, Mr. Weasley was a little distracted- he kept on stealing glances at Harry. Even before the boy had suggested it, he had wanted to take him in over the summer, both so he could get in touch with Sirius (for the godfather's sake nearly as much as the godson's) and so he could get away from the Dursleys. When Arthur brought the idea to Dumbledore, he was initially supportive, but refused to budge when it came to taking Harry from the Weasleys entirely. He insisted that he spend at least a bit of time at his blood relatives, and Arthur eventually managed to haggle that time down to about two weeks, and Dumbledore would not budge from there. Admittedly, it threw a wrench in their plans to visit Bill in Egypt, but Arthur wasn't sure that was possible now that he also had to keep an eye on Sirius-as-Argos.
"So is this how magicians travel when they can't use brooms, Mr. Weasley?" He was snapped out of his contemplation by Harry's question.
"No, not really- I'll admit I'm a bit of an odd case…" He then gave a lecture about how wizards got around- magic carpets were banned as enchanted muggle artifacts, but used to be popular, people with particularly strong stomachs used the Knight Bus, the Floo linked fireplaces, apparition had an age limit, and Portkeys were kind of a mixed bag- one use, but typically made of something inconspicuous, so a muggle didn't just pick one up randomly.
Before Harry knew it, they were back at the Burrow, and Harry clambered out of the car with his luggage- here he was, at his soon to be launch site. Well, he'd probably launch from somewhere a little more isolated, but still- Harry turned to the Burrow and got knocked to the ground by a black blur.
It turned out that Argos liked Harry- he liked him a lot, circling around his legs and brushing against him as he pulled his bags towards the Burrow. Wait a minute- "Mr. Weasley, can I use magic now?"
"Yes, yes, now that we're at the Burrow-" Harry then lightened his luggage- now that he couldn't get in trouble, there was literally no reason not to.
Harry wasn't entirely sure what conversation Mr. Weasley wanted to have with him that involved Argos, but here they were, with the dog acting oddly subdued. It had been a few days since he had shown up, and things had fallen into something approaching normalcy- Ron had been sticking so close to Harry that he couldn't wander off and try to get to space, and Ginny had been observing him in a way she might have thought was discrete.
Arthur had wanted to talk to him, and for some reason he brought the dog along before sitting Harry down. "Harry, do you remember Sirius Black?"
"The… well, is he a criminal? Was he?" Harry shrugged. "I mean, I know about him, know that he may not be guilty… but why does it matter?"
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and looked at Sirius expectantly. "Come on then."
Before Harry could wonder if the magical world had hyper-intelligent dogs, Argos began to change, lengthening and growing thinner, unhealthily thin, the fur shifting into black hair and loose hanging clothes, the fangs shifting into a shaky smile. Of course, he recognized that face.
"Hello, Harry." Harry managed to keep himself from jumping from the chair- he knew that Black was an animagus, but he assumed that he was dead. Maybe he needed to be a bit more doubtful of all claims of people dying in the magical world, considering how many of them slipped through the cracks...
"Wait, Sirius? You're Sirius Black?"
"Of course, I'm always Sirius." Harry groaned in response to that.
"How are you alive?" Sirius gave a wave with his stump- how did Harry not notice?- and Harry sighed. "Isn't that the exact same trick Pettigrew pulled?"
Sirius gulped. "...Yes?"
Harry blinked. "You are innocent though, right?"
"Of course! Do you think Mr. Weasley would let a murder into his house?" Mr. Weasley got an odd look on his face at that- probably remembering Pettigrew.
"And you're my godfather?" Harry asked.
Sirius grinned- were those canines natural or a side effect of transforming into a dog?- before going for a hug. He didn't pull away, but Arthur could see the slightly strained look on his face.
With a bit of needling, Harry got Sirius (in dog form) and Mr. Weasley to head out with him- just far enough where the Burrow wasn't visible and where they were mostly hidden by trees. Admittedly, they didn't look too impressed when he pulled out the ship- although it looked more like an odd little pebble at its current size.
Harry grinned. "Watch this." He set it on the ground, took quite a few careful steps back, and undid the shrinking and lightening spells which made traveling with the ship possible in the first place. It swelled in size, blooming outwards- and Harry was reminded again of his less than ideal craftsmanship in places.
"Sweet Merlin…" Sirius muttered. "What is this?"
"Are you familiar with the muggle concept of a spaceship?" Harry asked.
Arthur rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "This doesn't look like a rocket, I don't think-" he froze for a second. "You didn't steal this from the muggles and then enchant it, did you Harry? That can be a crime…"
Harry thought it was a little bold of him to point out that particular law, but whatever. "Nope- made it myself."
Honestly, Sirius thought the spaceship, as Harry called it, looked pretty shabby, especially if it was mimicking muggle vehicles with all those smooth lines… but it was Harry's, and he seemed proud of it. Arthur had given him bits and pieces of how the Dursleys treated him, and Sirius had gotten the impression that Arthur was hiding just how bad they were- Sirius wanted to fill that gap.
"It, ah, looks pretty cool?" That wasn't to say Sirius would be any good at it, but he would have to try- for James! Or James Jr., he supposed.
Harry's cheeks turned red. "Oh, it's nothing much…" he mumbled.
"Wait a moment, where'd you get all this metal?" Sirius asked- back in his day, the kids certainly weren't selling scrap metal in the halls.
"Alchemy?" Harry answered quietly.
"Where did you learn alchemy from?"
"Books?" Sirius chuckled.
"So what do you plan on doing with this spaceship of yours, Harry?" Mr. Weasley was peering at the ship curiosly.
"Well I'd like to fly it." Harry said.
"By yourself?" Sirius asked- the kid wasn't half bad with a broom (or so he heard, he needed to sneak to one of his games soon), but with Sirius' extremely limited understanding of spacetravel, it was probably different from broomflight. Probably.
"Well I came out here to ask you two along, you know." How could Sirius not indulge his godsons' little project?
Harry popped open the door, and Sirius realized that the ship was definitely little- it was built by a twelve year after old, and what was moderately roomy for him was practically intolerable for Sirius and Mr. Weasley.
Before Mr. Weasley stepped inside, he made sure to enchant the bottom of the ship (the part not festooned with runes) with some Notice-Me-Not Charms. He could appreciate a good joyride, but not if it got you in trouble with the ministry.
After Sirius and Mr. Weasley had taken their seats, which were comically small in contrast to their adult frames. Harry took the controls- a series of runes which turned on the light absorption runes, and some which controlled the power of the engines, and whether or not they were popping out past the heatshield.
"Out of curiosity, do either of you know a spell that gives you altitude?"
Mr. Weasley scratched his chin, before tapping a empty spot on the wall and doing some complex wiggling motion. Numbers bloomed on the metal- altitude and speed.
"Where'd you learn that?" Harry gasped- that was a really useful spell.
"Oh, just a little something I looked up when I was planning the car, you know…" He chuckled. "Need to fly under the muggle aeroplanes, after all…" Harry imagined flying a car into an airplane and shuddered- no thanks.
Speed and altitude- he could work with that. Probably. First, he turned on the light absorption runes, and after a moment he heard a whirring sound from below the cockpit where the three of them sat.
"What's that? Sirius looked down towards the ground, his eyes narrowing.
"The flywheels."
"The what?"
"Magic storage, basically-" Harry groaned. "The ship might need a bit to charge up. And here I was, getting all excited."
Sirius gave what he hoped was a fatherly pat on the back and got to his feet, crouching to not bump his head on the low-lying, angled ceiling. "We can come back- how long do you think it will take?"
Harry hummed. "Not sure- how long it'll take to charge or how long we'll be up there."
It took a bit of time to get a free spot in Mr. Weasley's schedule for the next flight- Sirius would have liked to have made it a godfather-godson bonding trip, but he recognized the value of having an adult wizard with a wand. He had tossed the wand he had liberated (read: stolen) after his escape to help sell his fake death, and his original wand had been taken from him for rather obvious reasons. At the end of the day, his godson's safety was more important than trying to bond with him, so Mr. Weasley came along.
Before they went on their amazing trip, they did a few more adjustments- Harry moved an enchanted trunk in, which was big enough to give them space to stretch (thank goodness). To complement this, Mr. Weasley had even done some space expansion spells, enough to make everything a lot more comfortable overall- no sprawling rooms, but enough room for the adults to not feel completely hemmed in.
Thankfully, the engines were strong enough to lift them off the ground- but when Harry kicked them into high gear both Mr. Weasley and Sirius yelped as they were pushed down into their seats- what speed! Harry would never admit to laughing maniacally while watching their altitude rise... but Sirius and Mr. Weasley certainly would remember it.
For a fair bit, they were just pushed back into their seats by the sheer acceleration of it all (and Harry hadn't even lightened the ship), Mr. Weasley and Sirius watching the windows with interest as the clouds approached, growing larger and larger until they plowed right through one. They were really shocked when the sky began to darken, Unfortunately, the further up they got, the less they seemed to accelerate, their altitude gain slowing as the force that once pushed them down towards the floor began to fade- although watching Sirius and Mr. Weasley react to the rapidly lowering gravity was fun.
Sirius remarked on it first, asking "What's happening?" before attempting to stand up- he then proceeded to smack his head into the roof of the cabin. Clearly, he hadn't adjusted the lower gravity- Harry could feel it too- he wasn't quite floating out of his seat, but he felt lighter.
"Oh, it's just lower gravity," Harry said, "if you'd like I could turn off the engines and we could try zero-g?"
Sirius had went from confused to bouncing around the cabin in seconds, laughing and whooping as he peered out of the window- the earth stretched out below them, still covering most of their view, but the curve was obvious and beyond that there was the inky black of space, spangled with stars. From up here, Sirius wasn't sure he could see Azkaban at all- wizarding Britain and the prison they put him in all looked so small from up here.
"Zero g?"
"Zero gravity- well, technically gravity is still pulling us down but that's splitting hairs..." Harry was looking at the altimeter and speedometer, a frown on his face.
"What's the matter, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Fairly sure I did the spells right..."
Harry groaned. "I don't think they're wrong- but our speed isn't nearly enough."
"What do you mean?"
"We're not going fast enough for orbit- I think the propulsion spell is dependent on something to push off of, and in vacuum..." Harry shrugged.
Arthur gulped. "No air? You mean…"
"If you were to go out there right now, you'd suffocate- I think. I mean you'd die, yeah, but I'm not sure about the specifics. Don't feel like testing it, honestly. It's why muggles have spacesuits."
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mr. Weasley spoke up again. "So- what happens now, Harry?"
"We fall."
I figure that logically, if Hermione got to keep the Time Turner after quitting Divination, that means she needed the Time Turner even then, while taking four classes. Ron and Harry settled for a two elective course load in the original, which I will assume is the usual. In other minor changes, I didn't have the Weasleys take a vacation (who the fuck takes a vacation while in that sort of economic situation?) as to get Harry to the Burrow early.
I mentioned golems and homunculi in passing here, think they might be an interesting way of approaching magical mass production (which will be explored, inshallah). Also, if the subject at all interests you go watch Jacob Geller's The Golem and the Jewish Superhero on youtube, it covers the myth of the golem incredibly well and his videos are generally amazing.
Tom hitching a ride with Harry is something I think will be interesting- it'll give him a slightly darker edge (although I don't plan on polevaulting into total edgelord territory) and a bit more ruthlessness to help handle Voldie's revival- complements of Lockhart. One horcrux down- but another is on the move, having possessed Lockhart, and it knows of the Tom-Harry situation. Tom is also going to be, short term at least, an asset for Harry when it comes to mental defense- something almost symbiotic, where Tom provides knowledge and mental powers and Harry provides money and a physical body. I know that Quirrel's possession was fatal, but Harry carried around a horcrux for like 17 years, why can't he do a little switcheroo?
The ship still doesn't have a name- I'm open to suggestions, but I think I'll do naming next chapter, where Sirius and Harry do some godfather-godson bonding (I love this relationship). There will be some exploration of the Black manor and its library as well, I think- I've got plans for the sorts of magic they'll find there, and how it will lead them to space. The magic communication mirrors for one, but there will be more. Gosh, I love planning this fic. So many exciting ideas just bouncing around in my head- and I thought I would run out of ideas when I first starting writing fics...
Don't worry, in vacuum propulsion will be solved next chapter- I'm rather proud of the solution I came up with tbh.
