Mistrust and Acquaintances

After the conversation with Riddle, he had taken him to Mr. Hurrington's former quarters and the office attached to it, and handed him his papers for the coming lessons. In addition, Riddle had explained that without the White Sun Mark in the refuge, Harry would always suffer from certain orientation difficulties, as only the Mark could negate the negative effects of the vast amounts of protective spells that were cast on the refuge. Therefore, Riddle handed him an amulet that would break the effect in the same way.

Then he left him alone. Pondering on the conversation, Harry contemplated his abode. Riddle's theories sounded plausible, but from Harry's perspective this was anything but a relief. It was frustrating. He was somewhere now. Nobody really knew him to the extent that he could hardly have any significance to anyone. Sure, many here were not hostile to him, but that was little consolation.

Since he had first entered Hogwarts, friendship had been an important part of his existence. Here there was only polite, mutual distrust. He was on his own. And yet, while he felt agitated about it, he was, to his horror, surprisingly composed. He knew he would never see his friends again, with whom he had hurtled through so many bounding dangers.

No more increasingly mellow Ron, who gave life more ease with his perpetual composure. No more Hermione, who knew the answer to everything, whether magical theory or upset feelings. Well they both existed here, of course. But not only were they not his friends, they were considerably younger. He realised that he hadn't asked Riddle about the slight time difference. But if things were as the leader of the local resistance saw them, then it was easy to find an answer. He was not only in the place that fed from the optimal idea of a world that most suited the Death Eater, but also in the time that seemed most appropriate for that state of the world.

Maybe that's why he felt less lost than he should, because there was also a positive aspect. He was not famous here. And if he became more famous, it would only be because of his own achievements and not because of a hodgepodge of luck and gifted friends. Harry considered himself quite competent in his fields by now and had been an able Auror to his world.

But this no longer impressed anyone there. He had brought down the Dark Lord! Who cared that his victory was only a chain of favourable circumstances? Who cared, in the face of his triumph, that his subsequent achievements - though mostly frustrating rather than satisfying - were far more deserving of appreciation. Not that he wished for this. He was still too humble to bear excessive praise. But if anyone was going to say anything good about him, please say it about something that also meant something to him. As gratifying as his victory over Lord Voldemort was, that fact was only due to the joy of the end of his reign, not his achievement.

Here it would all be different. He was nobody, but he could become somebody by his own efforts. What was the point of fretting? It was no use after all. He might be excellently trained in what they called defensive and offensive magic here, but magical theory only opened up to him as far as it helped him. He did not believe he could find a way back. Riddle's secret plan would work. If he stayed to help out, he would get used to the world and its people. Soon it would become less likely that he would really want to leave.

And here he would have a much more satisfying goal than on his homeworld, where he was fighting a gruelling small-scale war against a hydra of terrorist cells that grew two new heads for every one that was cut off. The situation here was seemingly more manageable, if worse. So he was alone and he would miss his friends dearly, but on the other hand here he had the chance to use his peculiar ailment of heroism and grown knowledge again in a way that felt useful. He let his gaze wander.

The office looked just as old and gloomy as Riddle's. However, while the tapestries in Riddle's office were green with silver stripes, Hurrington's was blue and bronze. He must have been a Ravenclaw graduate, Harry realised. With a nimble circular motion of his wand, the bronze turned gold, but the blue turned red. But then it occurred to him that he probably wouldn't make any friends with that. After all, from Lily's description, this side Gryffindor was worse than his Slytherin had ever been. So he changed the red to a pure white. It seemed fitting to him.

After all, one of his greatest achievements was describing what he had called White Magic. He was genuinely proud of the book he had written on the subject. Even Hermione could not be as pleased with him on this as he was with himself. In said book he summarised his experiences and researches related to purely protective magic. Of course, there was no such thing as white magic, just as there was no such thing as dark magic. In the end, both were little more than disputable questions of definition.

In Harry's mind, everything was white magic that served the sole purpose of keeping harm away from the target of the magic in question. His life project, which he did not believe he would ever be able to complete, was a magical shield that could fully block the Killing Curse. Funnily enough, the incantation he had used to escape the aurors only served the purpose of warding off weaker curses and obscuring the view of himself.

A Killing Curse, like almost all darker spells, would have passed through the shield as if it were not there. In fact, however, conjurations had been his first stage in the study of shield spells. From his uninformed point of view at the time, summoning magic had seemed the ideal defence against the Killing Curse. He had quickly learned, however, that conjurations, although taught alongside transfigurations for their similarity in function, did not actually create anything.

From Harry's point of view, this form of magic was simply advanced illusion magic, which is why no usable food or objects of real value could be created by it. Those who understood this, no longer had to worry about the exceptions of "Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration", as the mental contortion of understanding conjuration as transfiguration out of nothing became superfluous. One exception, of course, was the summoning of existing goods. But that, in turn, fell more into the school of Charms and was at the mercy of a number of limitations, such as the limited range of this method.

One consideration had been to carrying around matter for blocking in an enlarged bag. The problem was that the magically expanded space interfered with the direct summoning and thus prevented reliable blocking. This, of course, was not the normal summoning spell Accio, but something more akin to apperating objects, expressed by the formula Paretur. Since then, Harry always carried a few stones in his unenchanted trouser pockets, which he could materialise before Killing Curses. However, the use of Paretur required a very good feeling for the right moment to cast the spell, as the spell did not keep the object in the air.

But this limited the frequency of defence to whatever one carried. Moreover, the Killing Curse was not the only spell that was virtually unblockable, as he and many of his colleagues had to discover with horror. About three years ago, it had become fashionable to use ancient Indian spells that could only be blocked with specific ancient Indian shields. They had lost quite a few witches and wizards through this tactic.

In fact, this had really spurred his self-study, which had led to the completion of his book. In addition, of course, this circumstance had pushed his skills in the dark arts to heights that would have frightened him in the past. In order to be able to practise his shields and counterspells sensibly, it had been indispensable to learn the necessary curses. In fact, this self-study had led him to use ancient Indian spells without thinking about it, when he actually had a Western equivalent at his disposal. But there was no denying that many of these spells could only be reversed with the correct counterspell and the use of those was still very uncommon despite the publication of his book. This gave him quite an advantage, even if it could theoretically be easily overcome. It was just that nobody had done it in his world.

Of course, he had also developed his own spells, having understood under Hermione's guidance exactly how to accomplish it. His favourite of these was the Pertorquetur Shield. This created a small distortion field which randomly threw the spell that crossed it in another direction without weakening it in any way. Unfortunately, he had not found a way to control the deflection of spells himself. It remained random.

But the Pertorquetur was even able to change the course of a Killing Curse. Although the decreasing angle of deflection depended on the increasing force of the spell, there was no spell that could not be deflected. At the same time, the skill of the caster also determined the strength of the distortion field. For example, a particularly skilled caster who blocked an incredibly weak curse could deflect it back to the opponent with great certainty. The weakness of the spell was, of course, obvious. In a fight with several participants, the Pertorquetur could also seriously injure or even kill allies. Harry only used the spell when fighting without support. Sadly he had also found that the spell was extremely hard for others to learn. He did not know why. The concept was apparently difficult to grasp.

His musings on his own achievements were suddenly interrupted when his office door opened and two people entered, a man and a woman, who seemed to express almost perfect suspicion and caution. He recognised them both immediately. Andromeda Tonks looked exactly as she had in his world. Remus Lupin, on the other hand, looked strangely much healthier on the one hand, and much more scarred on the other. In particular, the "W" branded on his temple distinguished him from his counterpart in Harry's world. Without introducing himself, he launched into the room: "Did you know that there was a legendary criminal in the United States called Jesse James?"

"I am sure I heard of him in my childhood, Mr. Lupin. But if you're suggesting a possible relationship, I'm sorry to say that I find it exceptionally unlikely," Harry replied with amusement.

Mrs Tonks looked at Lupin with some irritation at his lack of manners, but he was not deterred as he continued, "In fact, I think we agree on that, for your true parentage is far too obvious for you to seriously deny it. I have seen James Potter in my life more than one time too often. And I can guarantee you one thing: I will be watching your actions very closely.

"And if, as I expect, it turns out that you are an agent of the regime, I will make sure that you regret ever having set foot in this sanctuary. To trust a man with no history who suddenly claims to be on our side without checking his background is downright absurd. I don't know what Riddle is thinking."

Harry looked at the angry Lupin with raised eyebrows as Mrs Tonks added: "I must apologise for the tone of my colleague. My name is Andromeda Tonks; he, as you obviously already know, is Remus Lupin. We both have only the welfare of the children here at the Sanctuary in mind and you must confess that the speed with which you, as an outsider, have been recognised as an ally by our organisation puts you in a very dubious light.

"Were the government to learn that we teach the magical offspring of Muggles here, their lives would undoubtedly be threatened. True, the Refuge's spells are strong and so far they have survived every attempt to hand us over to the regime. But the very fact that Mr. Riddle did not burn the Sun Mark into your arm, as he freely admits, causes me to be considerably sceptical. This talisman gives you all the rights of a member, but at the same time it does not guarantee your secrecy, because you can take it off at any time."

"I must admit I am a little out of my depth with this situation," Harry replied, visibly overwhelmed. "I was not aware that these tattoos had magical implications of that nature. I have seen this sort of thing before and there they were a sign of self-slavery under a master who could exert some influence over his subjects through the mark. To be sure, Mr. Riddle seems to me considerably milder than the malefactor who created those marks. Perhaps I can alleviate your concern in some other way."

"And how exactly do you imagine that to be, Mr James?" asked Lupin with narrowed eyes. For a very brief moment Harry had thought of cockily making an Unbreakable Vow. But that idea crumbled with great speed even before Lupin had answered him so full of suspicion. To bind oneself in such a way alone would be downright daring, but to do so to de facto strangers would be more like madness.

Therefore Harry replied as mildly as he could: "I don't really know. Even though I find this senseless animosity between you and me regrettable, I don't see any way to quickly build up the trust that is lacking. Magical oaths are notoriously unreliable and, above all, too restrictive for such a banality."

Mrs Tonks, however, contrary to his gloomy prognosis, said: "I have an idea. A magical contract. By that I don't mean one designed to forbid or enact future actions. No, my thoughts refer to a Contrat de Vérité."

Harry knew this formulation. In Britain, truth contracts were never fashionable, but in France they were a standard part of law enforcement. In such a contrat de vérité, certain statements were listed and subsequently the person whose truthfulness was to be verified with regard to these written down sentences had to put his signature underneath. If he confirmed those truths to the best of his knowledge, nothing happened. If, however, he signed without being convinced of the truth, the contract caught fire in the relevant places and burnt them completely.

The disadvantage of this practice compared to Veritaserum was, of course, obvious. The amount of information that the scribe of the treaty could gain consisted solely of the verification or falsification of precisely pre-formulated facts. No new knowledge could be gained from them. Moreover, the Contrat de Vérité had the same serious flaw as said potion. A signatory could interpret the statements given in such a way that they could be considered true from a certain point of view, even though they missed the actual meaning of the contract as the writer had intended it.

It was precisely because of these flaws that Harry declared, "I am familiar with this procedure. I would submit to it."

Smiling, Mrs Tonks pulled out such a contract document from her cloak and touched it with her wand while whispering, "Reperi Mendacium," causing the contract to light up red for a brief moment.

She handed it to Harry and he began to read aloud, "Contract to establish the integrity of Harry James. Harry James has no official or unofficial employment relationship with the Ministry of Magic. Furthermore, he has no interest in disclosing any knowledge he may have acquired in the Refuge, from the Fellowship of the White Sun or persons associated with either institution to any third party in the future. To the best of his knowledge, he stands in opposition to the Ministry of Magic and its administrators. He is further qualified to instruct students in both defensive and offensive magic and plans to prevent any unnecessary harm to those whose protection is his responsibility."

Harry signed with a quill Hurrington had left on his desk. As he expected, the contract did not burst into flames at any point. The wording was, after all, quite friendly. Funnily enough, Harry was actually employed by a Ministry of Magic, though not as Harry James, but as Harry Potter. So he could ignore this question.

"As you see, your fears are null and void," Harry remarked with a faint grin, "But to avoid any misunderstanding, my presence here is hardly more a constellation of very strange and rare circumstances."

"I'm sure you understand how unusual your presence is," Lupin replied, looking somewhat embarrassed. "This story in Diagon Alley is simply incomprehensible and has been a completely unnecessary provocation of the regime. Some people here absurdly think you are a hero because of it.

"I and many others, however, see this whole action as a threat to already very tense relations. The traditionalists in the Wizengamot are bent on exploiting every misstep of our group to further worsen the situation of us so-called mudbloods and blood traitors. And we've done enough things to make us a nuisance to the public as it is."

"So you don't agree with Riddle's methods?" asked Harry with interest.

Lupin seemed to weigh his answer carefully before saying: "I think that some of our actions do more harm than good. It is understandable that he wants to destabilise the regime at some point. But I don't think this goal can be achieved in this way. It will only encourage the obstinate ruling class to discredit us even more. To my regret, however, no real alternative exists for the enemies of this state apart from Riddle."

"And that's the crux of the matter, isn't it Remus?" now Mrs Tonks commented. "Peaceful protest against this monstrous administration is not really an option. It would grind down, reshape or enslave the meek. I abhor violence, but those who stand against an uncompromising opponent must realise how little they can afford to resort to gentle or conciliatory courses of action.

"We have nothing but our will and our limited capacity to inflict some wounds on the regime. Only if we are more than a minor nuisance in the long-term we may be able to bring about a change in thinking. What do you think Mr James?"

Harry was surprised at the willing discussion of this topic. He could also see that it was by no means a new debate between the two. Cautiously, Harry expressed, "I don't know enough about this conflict to offer a valid view. However, what Mr. Lupin says is quite reasonable. Violent protest usually strengthens the enemy and there is no guarantee that at some point a government will reach out to the disadvantaged groups. This credits ordinary folks with too much rationality. In reality, politics is driven by emotion and the privileged will only change things when it suits them.

"It is quite conceivable that the majority will settle into this beleaguered state. It is comfortable. There is a clear enemy that distracts from all internal and important problems. One finds oneself in a convinced righteousness that is only further fortified by the attacks. Of course, this does not answer the question of what to do about it.

"The only options I see are a coup d'état or trying to bring about change through participation in the system. Both seem to be futile, as there are not enough people to support them. At least that is my impression, but as I said, I know too little about any of this. I can't even say with certainty if the Fellowship of the White Sun has any allies in the Wizengamot at all, or even could have any."

"And that is what is so strange. You seem to be a competent wizard and not a headcase, yet you seem to want to appear to know nothing about our society. A society you must have grown up in," Lupin replied without judging Harry's position.

Harry commented, "I am not from here. It would be best to think of me as a stranger from a very distant land. That may seem illogical to you both, but that is all I will say about this today. Mr. Riddle knows the details and that knowledge is enough for him."

"It's no less mysterious, though," Mrs Tonks retorted. "Mr. Riddle is not a person who trusts quickly. How did you, as a foreigner, as you say, manage to be accepted by him as an ally so quickly?"

"In a way, Tom Marvolo Riddle has been following me all my life and I potentially know more about him than most would ever want to. I think he is fascinated by my experiences. When we talk it is mostly about magical theory or the like. For my part, I've never fully trusted him and I doubt I ever will."

Of course, this statement was a stretch of the truth, since he didn't really know this Tom Riddle. But if he wanted to bring a little plausibility into his existence within this twisted world, it was probably unavoidable to keep his statements a little blurred between lies and honesty. Mrs Tonks now regarded him with distinct scepticism and said, "That's very odd again. I am in very close contact with Mr. Riddle through my sister's marriage. Neither she nor her children have ever mentioned a Harry James."

"Our correspondence was always academic in nature. If I didn't know he was married, why would his family know about me?" posed Harry as a counter question, hoping to circumnavigate her suspicions.

Shaking her head, she sighed, "Very well, I'll leave it at that. But I will not conceal my conviction that you are hiding something, Mr. James."

"You are free to believe that, Mrs Tonks. Mr. Riddle and I have an agreement and I will honour it," Harry pointed out, "I am glad you introduced yourself to me, despite any awkwardness between us. I hardly know anyone here and it would suit me, if we could at least establish a reasonably good atmosphere between us."

Mrs Tonks and Lupin nodded at his hope for a good working relationship, then the latter said, "Well, we'll leave you to it then. You already have the lesson plans. Mr. Riddle will probably teach the group again today, but from tomorrow you will be responsible for it. I hope you are as competent as we have been told."

They both then said their goodbyes and left the office. The whole situation made him realise that he really needed to work on his story. As long as he remained a mystery to those around him, he would become far too much the focus of others' thoughts. He couldn't blame Lupin and Mrs Tonks for their distrust. What he needed was more information.