Chapter 2: Pity
Harry loved magic. It's what made him special.
From the day he got his wand, magic had become more than an obsession. It was now a part of him. Inseparable from himself.
Uncle Remus was a good teacher. Harry wished they could spend more time casting spells and less time reading about casting spells. Well, sometimes you had to read to learn new spells. Reading was not the worst, Harry supposed.
There were other subjects that were not as interesting. Herbology was not nearly exciting enough. Neville seemed to like it. His friend even tried to explain to Harry several times why it was his favorite subject. He still did not understand why anyone would prefer potted plants to exploding charms.
Muggle Studies was the worst. Even worse than Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. Harry knew what electricity was and why should he care who the current Muggle Prime Minister was? Harry was not a Muggle!
Charms was great fun. Learning how to levitate objects and using the severing charm to slice through bushes in the forest was interesting enough. Learning how to heal cuts and bruises in Defense Against the Dark Arts was also fun enough to keep his attention.
Dueling was the best. The way spells clashed against shield charms, the hiss of stunning spells as they flew by, the satisfaction of disarming an opponent- yes, dueling lessons were the absolute best. He missed having Tonks around over the summer. Neville could barely cast a shield charm. Uncle Remus was always trying to teach him something. Uncle Sirius let him win too often. Uncle Ted did not let him win at all.
But Tonks was the best dueling partner. She did not hold back, and she let them use any spells they wanted. She was back at Hogwarts. Harry missed her. He would never say that out loud, though.
Today was Potions. It was somewhere in the middle. Aunt Andromedea was stricter than Remus, but she also assigned shorter readings. Harry liked her well enough. She told funny stories about when Sirius was growing up and that made his godfather embarrassed.
"Let's see how it went, then," Aunt Andromedea clasped her hands together and she leaned over the cauldron. Harry could tell Neville was nervous as their teacher let their potion drip onto her tongue.
Slowly, her hair raised into the air. Harry could not help but laugh and that brought a smile to Aunt Andromedea's face. Neville let out a sigh of relief. Their hair-raising potion had done the job well enough.
"Very good! When it comes to Potions you are both doing quite well. I've marked down a reading assignment for next week. Come prepared! The Shrinking Solution is a difficult one, but I think you two are up for the challenge."
They were left alone to clean the classroom in the Hulhome. Afternoon sunlight poured into the large master bedroom which had been converted into a spacious classroom.
Harry took a swig of their hair-raising potion and laughed as he flung his head back and forth, his flowing hair following like a sluggish whip.
"Come on, Neville," Harry pried, "What's gotten into you recently?"
Neville was cleaning out their cauldron. He didn't stop to talk to Harry. For a few days now he had been quieter than usual. They were best mates. Harry told him everything about everything. So, it bothered him that Neville was keeping something bottled up.
He decided to act on his frustration. "Accio cauldron brush!"
The brush Neville was using to the clean the cauldron slipped out of his hand a flew across the room. Harry had caught it easily enough. His Seeker instincts were getting better. He practiced almost every day, and his team Quidditch team had only dropped two games last season.
"You just have to rub it in, don't you?"
Harry was shocked by Neville's harsh response. He was just taking the mickey. But it almost sounded like his friend was about to burst into tears at any moment.
Harry really did not know what to say. Luckily, Neville decided to keep speaking even if he refused to make eye contact, "I can't even get a stupid summoning charm right. I'm not going to get into Hogwarts. I'll be lucky if I even get into Mulbricks."
"Neville…"
"Just stop, alright?"
"You're a good wizard!"
"You don't have to lie to me!"
They looked at each other for the first time in their conservation. There were tears building in Neville's eyes as he spoke, "It all comes so easy to you. You are the Boy-Who-Lived! You defeat You-Know-Who!"
"I don't even remember that," Harry's voice was quiet as he responded. It was the truth. When Sirius had told him that he was the famous Boy-Who-Lived, he thought it was a joke. Some sort of sick prank. But it was the truth even if there were weeks spent at the Hulhome where Harry could forget it was true.
Eventually, though, a moment like this always dragged the truth back out in front of him.
It was not a car accident that killed his parents, it was You-Know-Who. When his wand turned on Harry, his spell rebound. He was defeated. The war which took his parents, his uncle, and many others had ended.
"I'm sorry," Neville squeaked out, "I should not have brought that up. I just… don't want to disappoint my grandmother. I want to be like my dad… like my mum…"
Harry walked across the room and took the cauldron from Neville. He sat down next to him and started scrubbing off residue.
"You'll get into Hogwarts," he tried his best to assure his friend.
"How do you know that?" Neville's voice was still shaky as he held back tears, "I'm gonna fail my G.O.A.T. It's a real trial. Casting spells in front of old wizards and witches who do nothing but judge kids all day..."
Harry put the cauldron down and stood up in front of his friend. He hated seeing Neville like this. It was true, his best mate was no great wizard. But neither was Harry. Dumbledore was a great wizard. Uncle Remus told him stories about how he defeated Gellert Grindelwald in a duel. Harry wanted to be a strong wizard like that.
He looked at his friends whose watery eyes were looking at him for some sort of reply. There was some strange emotion building in Harry's stomach, but all he could do was smile.
"I'll help you."
o-o-o-o-o
Beyond the tenth floor of the Ministry of Magic was the enigmatic eleventh floor. Some wizards and witches dismissed the existence of the floor as a myth. Others believed it held a secret government secret.
Sirius was about to see with his own eyes what was held there.
The Ministry of Magic governed all of wizarding Britain. Like most folks, Sirius had no love for the institution. The Wizengamot sat gridlocked unable to do much of anything. The various Ministers all succumbed to the status quo.
The only time Sirius had felt something resembling pride for his government was during a battle at Chudleigh. They were losing the battle after failing a rescue mission. The tides turned when the ringing sound of dozens of Apparations filled the air. The Aurors had descended upon the Death Eaters.
The head Auror at the time had defied Ministry orders. The Ministry wanted to assess the situation before declaring war against the Death Eaters. But the Aurors in their red robes had made the decision that day. It was a popular one. News of the victory at Chudleigh rallied support for the Ministry.
The early days of the war, when there was still glory to be earned, when it seemed like just a grand adventure- those were different times. He knew what the dark days after held. He was about to come face to face with a reminder of that.
Sirius focused back on his surroundings. In the center of a round chamber was a floating black box with reflective, golden markings engraved near the top and bottom. The room was lined with cold, marble-carved seating. He watched the levitating box hover in place from his place in the back row. There was a sense of incomprehensible dread growing in his stomach.
The chamber was dimly lit but he could make out a few faces.
Dumbledore. The leader of the Order of the Phoenix and one of the great wizards of the era. Sirius had spoken to him before retrieving Harry for the Dursleys. The old wizard was over-joyed to see Harry removed from the custody of the Muggles. The Wizengamot had voted to put him there. It may have been following the law- but it was wrong. Dumbledore knew that. But in order for wizarding society to be rebuilt, the law must be followed during reconstruction. That is what Dumbledore had told Sirius when he explained it to him after his release from Azkaban.
Then there was Minister Bagnold. She had taken over as Minister during the end of the war. It was under her watch that Harry was placed with the Dusrleys and under her watch that Sirius's sham trial sent him away. She may have allowed the retrial that ultimately set him free, but Sirius would never have a nice thing to say about her.
Cornelius Fudge was at her side. Many thought he was suited to be the next in line for Minister. Bagnold would be retiring soon. Sirius knew he was just another suit. The thought of a man like that leading their government made him sick. He hoped Dumbledore would step in and run. He would win in a landslide!
He spotted Amelia Bones. He remembered her in school. She was two years ahead of him. A pretty Ravenclaw who focused on her schoolwork. Never gave him any attention, despite his constant scheming for it. She was now the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her hair looked more white than blonde these days. Perhaps it was the stress. She still had it though, that thing that made him chase her back in the day.
There were other various members of the Wizengamot and Ministry members. He only knew a few more names. He could not be bothered to learn the rest. Many had sat idly by while Sirius begged for mercy. None of them had listened.
He took his seat between Remus and Augusta. He gazed over to the older woman, "Are you sure you want to be here for this?"
Augusta grunted in response, "I've seen better men killed in worse ways, Mr. Black. Besides, this is how they rid of us of Grindelwald after the war. I fancy getting a look at how it was done."
Augusta Longbottom was a strict witch. She was nearly as tall as Sirius. Her skin was pale and with very few wrinkles for her old age of sixty-seven. Her eyes were a striking yellow. Moon-elf blood. Neville, her grandson, showed the signs less.
He cleared his throat. There was no suitable response to her comment. He glanced around the room to try and avoid her gaze. Sirius then spotted a red-headed couple seated side-by-side across the room. Arthur and Molly Weasley.
He leaned towards Remus and pointed out the pair, "If it wasn't for their son, I may still be in Azkaban. Harry would still be stuck with those Muggles."
Sirius only heard the shortened version of the story. One of Arthur Weasley's sons had been practicing transfiguration when the truth was revealed to them. That streak of luck had freed Sirius and saved Harry from the Muggles. He thought it cruel in a way, that it was only through chance they were both saved.
Remus glanced across the room and looked over to the couple. His face curled up with guilt. "I didn't mean…" Sirius stopped for a moment, trying to find the right words to say, "Harry forgave me for that night. We forgave you for not stepping in after."
Before his friend could respond, wizards and witches rose to attention across the small chamber. Sirius stood and his eyes moved to the man in chains being led by a group of Aurors.
Peter Pettigrew.
He looked more rat than man. Years of hiding in his Animagus form had contorted and broken his body. Pockets of fur dotted that man's face and his ears lifted and curled strangely. A worm-like tail burst from the side of his leg, twitching gruesomely as he was dragged to the center of the chamber.
When Sirius had laid eyes on him during the first day of the trial, there was nothing but rage. He wanted revenge. He wanted to be the one to do it. But when he went back home to Harry, the feelings had burned out. Where the anger once rallied, all that was left there was a black hole of disgust and shame.
Peter was chained to a post in front of the levitating box. It hung over the twisted man like a dark warden. The chamber was near silent except for the faint, hypnotic hum of the black box. Then, the rat-like man let out a cry that sounded more like the whimper of a rodent than the anguish of a human.
"Peter Pettigrew."
Minister Bagnold stood at a podium high above Peter, but the large black box still towered over her. She looked just as stern and focused as she did when she presided over Sirius's exoneration.
"The Wizengamot, chosen members of the Ministry, and select wizards and witches have gathered to witness your Dissolvement. The time is upon us. Auror Gatley, please bring the perpetrator forward."
A stocky Auror grabbed the chains and led Peter forward.
Then, a witch dressed in all black appeared. Dark veils that attached to her pointed hat hid her face from the crowd. She held up her wand. The golden letters of the box illuminated the room in a blinding, shimmering light. As the light faded, the front of the box swung open like the doors of a dungeon.
Inside was nothing but dark. It was a dark like Sirius had never seen before. Even the shadows of Azkaban could not compare to the emptiness inside. Thick, black liquid oozed out and splashed onto the tiled floor. He felt the air turn to ice. It was as if a hoard of Dementors had crept into the chamber.
"Sirius!"
Sirius jolted up in his seat. Peter had collapsed onto the floor, chains rattling loudly. His face, half-human and half-rat, twisted and turned as he scanned the faces of the dim chamber. There were whispers of shock as the on-lookers witnessed the scene.
"Remus! Please!"
This time Sirius could not help himself. He grabbed onto Remus's arm tightly. His friend was drained of color and sat unmoved. His eyes were glued to the man who had betrayed them. Peter was crying out and as he looked for them amongst the crowd.
After a moment, Peter was in the air. The witch levitated him up until he was just in front of the endless darkness inside the box.
"JAMES!"
The man was frantic now. The chains clanked as he shook. The sound was like prisoners banging against the metal bars of their cells. It grew worse, more violent. The chains clanked against each other, and clanked and clanked…
Then the witch swung her wand and the chains fell to the floor with a loud clash. Peter started pulling at his hair, still being levitated in place.
"JAMES! PLEASE SAVE ME! IT'S ME! PETER! JAMES! JAMES!"
Remus grabbed Sirius's knee. Had had been griping his friends arm so tightly that it must have been causing pain.
Sirius had wished for this to happen. He dreamed about doing it himself, putting an end to the man who betrayed James and Lily.
Witnessing it now, hearing the child-like shrieks of Peter…
With another wave of a wand, Peter's convulsing body moved slowly into the darkness inside the box. The seconds seemed like hours. Peter's screams had become piercing, unintelligible, and unbearable.
He was firmly within the box now. Sirius watched in horror as he began clawing at his own skin, ripping at the patches of rat hair that mark his accursed face. But the darkness was taking him. Black tendrils wrapped around his contorted limbs…
BANG!
The doors of the relic slammed shut. The chamber was silent. Even the faint humming had left the air. A moment passed.
Then, Sirius heard them.
Not just the screams of Peter, but a chorus of anguish. It started slowly, as if from a great distance. But soon the box was beginning to rumble and rotate. The screams picked up. Others in the chamber became aware. The black box had spun halfway around. The screams were now piercing the air like curses in a battle. Some around them held hands over their ears. Screams of agony and shrikes of horror reached a crescendo. A symphony of suffering. Sirius gripped Remus's arm as tight as he could. His head was spinning, dizzy as the box spun…
Then it was over.
The only sound left was the faint humming of the floating black box. People around them shuffled in their seats, readjusting their robes, and whispering to one another. Sirius sat still, unable to fully comprehend anything he was feeling. Remus did not even look at him.
For Peter and his betrayal, Sirius had fought with every dark emotion. Rage, anger, hate, disgust. On top of all of that came an emotion he tried his hardest to suppress. Pity.
o-o-o-o-o
When Sirius and Remus returned to the Hulhome, they spotted Harry and Nymphadora sitting together at the edge of the property. The tall trees hung over their small bodies. It made Sirius dizzy for a moment as they approached.
Nymphadora stood and started to explain something. Sirius's eyes were glued to Harry, who sat stiff as a statue. In front of his godson was an unmoving, green pixie. It was dead.
"Harry hit one of them with a freezing charm. You know how they all scatter back to the woods after one of them is hit. This one must have not been looking where he was going. Face first, right into the tree by the looks of it."
Remus guided her away, "Let Sirius talk to him," the two men made eye contact with each other quickly, "Sorry we were late. Let's Floo you home now."
Sirius and Harry were left alone. The orange light of the sunset bathed the edge of the woods. He sat down next Harry. The pixie's face was done in well. The sight was quite gruesome, even for Sirius. He waved his wand and flipped the pixie over.
"Did he have a name?" Sirius asked, the question sounding a bit silly as he thought it over.
"He was the meanest of the bunch," his godson replied solemnly, "He was the one who sat on my head and pulled at my hair. I called him Grabber. I hated him."
Sirius had gotten better at reading his godson's expressions. He was never meant to be a parent. He knew that. But somehow, he had found some instinct for it. James could be brash and crude but when Harry came along there was a newfound maturity in James. Sirius was amazed at the transformation of his best mate. He recognized it in himself now.
"I don't think you hated him," Sirius sighed deeply, "You always went right through their nesting grounds. They liked chasing you and I think you liked messing with them."
"It was my fault." His godson's voice was weak. Sirius placed his arm around him and rubbed his shoulder. "He was so mean. But if I never made him chase me, he wouldn't have— "
"Shh," Sirius pulled his godson close as he spoke, "These things happen. It wasn't anyone's fault."
"I was always angry with him. But now I'm sad."
Harry was crying. He rarely did it. When it did happen there were no noises. Just silent, wet trails that trickled down his puffy cheeks. Sirius knew why he did not cry like a normal child. It only made it harder to watch.
"It's called pity. When a bad thing happens to someone… someone who hurt us… we feel pity. It means that we are…"
He thought about the end of his first year. Peter was afraid to get sorted. When the hat screamed out Gryffindor, Sirius cheered so loudly he lost his voice. He thought about how happy his friend was when him, Remus, and James had showed up to his house the summer of their third year. He remembered Peter's face when he first held Harry.
Sirius was crying too now. It was silent like Harry. They had both learned a painful lesson growing up. It stayed with him his whole life. He feared it would stay with his godson as well.
Then, two pixies emerged from the dark of the woods. The sun had nearly set. The hands of the pixies moved like tendrils as they wrapped around their fallen friend. They pulled Grabber into the woods as they flew away. His broken body disappeared into the darkness.
"Pity is good," Sirius let out through the tears, "It's what makes us human, Harry."
They sat together in the grass for a while longer. The forest loomed over them, the darkness had flooded in, but there was comfort to be found as they held each other through it all.
o-o-o-o-o
"A levitation charm, Mr. Potter. Keep the feather airborne for ten seconds."
Harry muttered the incantation carefully and held his wand still. After counting slowly in his head, he lowered the feather until it lay back in the spot he had raised it from.
The old wizards and witches wrote on lengthy rolls of parchment paper that spilled onto the creaky wooden floor of the ornate room. Harry practiced diligently for his G.O.A.T. Neville had warned him that the Department of Magical Education would be real sticklers for detail, so they worked extra hard together.
"A sneezing potion," the large, bald wizard who sat front and center spoke. His beard was made up of five cubes formed perfectly from the hair on his chin. "There are all the materials and ingredients you need. You have ten minutes."
It was not long before the neon blue liquid was burbling gently in the old, Ministry-standard cauldron. Deciding to show off just a bit, the blue liquid streamed through the air and into the glass potion bottle as he guided it with his wand. He presented the finished sneezing potion to the observers.
"Have a go of it, then," the man spoke as he urged Harry on.
He let a drop of the sweet-tasting potion hit his tongue. After a few seconds, he let out a sneeze so loud and powerful that it lifted him off the ground. The sneezing stopped after a moment and the sounds of quills on paper filled the room.
Then he repotted a Mandrake, transfigured a rock into a beetle, used a softening charm on a wooden block, and lit a candle with a fire-making spell.
It had all been easy enough.
Harry then watched as the observer swished his wand and turned the test table into a long, dueling platform. One of the wizards stood to face him on the other side. He was younger than the rest, he still had some hair on his head.
"We are going to test some basic dueling spells. We'll start with shield charms."
The instructor fired stunning spells and spark spells towards Harry. After he was successful in blocking them, he was able to return fire and show of his offensive spells.
Soon enough, the main instructor motioned to them, "Your G.O.A.T will end with a three-minute duel. Please bow, walk to your starting mark, and raise your wands."
Harry's heart was thumping with anticipation. Finally, something exciting!
He thought about all the advice he had been giving on dueling over the years. "It's not all just about power," Uncle Sirius would tell him after they were both soaked in sweat from sparing, "A good wizard knows how to stun and shield but a great wizard has an arsenal of tricks."
The duel began and Harry started strong and fierce. "Expelliarmus!" Red sparks clashed against a shielding spell. Then again, and again. Soon after the instructor returned fire.
"Impedimenta!"
The impediment jinx was easy enough for Harry to block. Seeing how meekly the instructor was dueling made him just a bit upset. Uncle Remus would hold back a bit, but even his teacher was not afraid to knock him on the ground every now and then. Then a devilish idea popped into his head.
"Baubilious!"
White sparks disintegrated against his opponents shields. He followed up a few more times, letting each jet of sparks light up weaker than the next. Just as his opponent felt an opportunity to capitalize on Harry's vulnerable position, he flicked his wand in a new pattern with a great force behind it.
"Bombarda!"
The explosion rang out as smoke covered his opponent. As it cleared, the expression on the man's face was somewhere between shock and horror as his shielding spell seemed to just barely make it up before the explosion.
Harry kept going, sending disarming charms raining down on his opponent. The older man kept backing up and shielding, backing up and shielding….
"Search for a pattern," Uncle Remus's voice was always stern when he was in teacher mode, and it was how Harry remembered his advice, "If you know how your opponent will react, you can use that to your advantage."
He smirked as he began to flick his was again. The man had his shield raised, but at the last second Harry's wand dipped down towards the dueling platform.
"Glacius!"
The man stepped back again, anticipating a disarming spell. But what came was a sheet of ice that stretched beneath his feet. As the man stepped back, he fell straight onto his bum after slipping on the ice. His wand bounced from his grip. He reached for it, but before his fingers made contact, he was interrupted.
"Ventus!"
A gust of wind emanating from Harry's wand blasted his opponent's wand far away from the dueling platform. The man tried to grip onto the ice, but soon found himself sliding straight off the table.
With a loud thud and an audible groan, his foe had been easily defeated. Harry tried his hardest to keep the smirk off his face as he turned to bow to the table of observers.
There were whispers and quills scribbling fast against parchment. The bald man had an amused look in his eyes.
"All done, Mr. Potter," he spoke as he stood and motioned to the door at the other end of the testing room, "Your results will be mailed to you by the end of the month. We will send your results to our schools here, as well as Beauxbatons, Diurmstrang, and Ilvermorny. For any more international schools, you'll have to speak with someone at the front desk or send the results yourself."
Harry nodded. He quickly ran over to the man he had just knocked to the floor. The quickly shook hands. Before he could fling the door open, the bald man spoke once more, "Impressive spell work today, Mr. Potter."
For the first time during the entire test, the bald instructor smiled at him. Harry thought it was probably the first time anyone in the Department of Magical Education had smiled at him today. He grinned from ear to ear and bowed again, "Thank you, sir."
A moment later, he scanned over the lobby. Sirius and Remus made eye contact with him, and he raised his fists in the air and they both let out loud cheers in what was supposed to be a silent waiting room.
o-o-o-o-o
The Hulhome was quiet. It was still early summer. Twelve-year-old Harry was restless. He had been for a few days. He knew he got into Hogwarts. He could not think of a single thing he messed up on during his G.O.A.T. There was no way he would be rejected.
Uncle Remus, Uncle Sirius, his mum, and his dad. Tonks, Aunt Andromedea, and Uncle Ted. Even Neville's grandmother. Everyone he knew went to Hogwarts. He knew he had done well, so why was he so worried?
He glanced up at the morning sky. The sun was just coming out over the trees and the air was still crisp. There was still no owl. Harry had to keep his mind busy, or the time wouldn't pass.
He waded through the tomato plants until he spotted what he was looking for. He gripped the foot of the garden gnome and pulled it from the hole it was trying to dig. Putting his back into it, he flung the gnome as far as he could. The abnormally large gnome soared through the air and disappeared into the forest around the Hulhome.
"Harry."
He turned to meet his godfather's gaze. There was something wrong with the way he said his name. Harry gulped down in anticipation.
"Neville got his results."
His mind began racing. Then suddenly it made sense to him. Uncle Sirius was just pulling a prank. Harry spent weeks with Neville doing nothing but preparing for their G.O. . They were both getting in. There was no question about that.
"I'm not falling for that," Harry let a nervous laugh out, "Please ust tell me the truth and let me get back to de-gnoming the garden."
"Neville did not get into Hogwarts. Augusta said he'll likely be attending Mulbricks."
Harry did not want to believe it. He could not. But he knew that Sirius's words were true. Suddenly he did not want to be outside waiting for a Hogwarts owl.
"Look!" Sirius pointed up to the sky and Harry's heart sank.
A large eagle owl landed on the garden fence. Harry approached slowly. He was still lightheaded from the news about Neville. What if he did not get into Hogwarts? He was supposed to make his parents proud. That is what Sirius told him whenever he was inclined to lie-in on a school day.
Reluctantly, he took the letter from the owl's beak. The massive bird spread its brown wings and left Sirius and Harry alone.
He looked to his godfather for comfort. He gave Harry a nod and weak smile. Where did all the encouraging words go? Even Sirius was worried Harry would not get in!
He was scared, mad, nervous, and excited all at once. Deciding to not think or dwell on any single feeling, he tore open the letter and his focus shifted to the handwritten text.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry for Gifted Witches & Wizards
Mr. Harry James Potter
Your G.O.A.T results and your application to attend Hogwarts for this upcoming school year have been reviewed by our Board of Admissions and selected staff. We are pleased to inform you that your application to attend Hogwarts has been accepted. Should you choose to attend, please fill out and return the form we have included with this acceptance letter.
Harry cheered! He could not hold it in. In a split second his feet were lifted from the ground as his godfather gripped him tightly and spun him around like when he was little.
"I bloody knew you'd get in!" Uncle Sirius was screaming as the read the letter. "You're a great wizard. Just like your dad!"
He fought the tears. They were happy tears. A strange feeling. His eyes kept scanning the words, making sure they were real. He felt the parchment in his hands just to make sure it was really there.
Then he stopped for a moment. A harsh reality became clear to him.
There would be no Remus, no Sirius, and no Neville at school. He suddenly felt as if he were back in his cupboard. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was going to have to reveal himself to the world and attend Hogwarts- and he was going to have to do it by himself.