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So far... With future memories and by remaining unnoticed, Harry helped his former friends from a distance in his first year at Hogwarts. Now he faces a greater challenge in Year 2. Read on...
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Chapter 2
The Diary Riddle
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Harry Potter worked to a completely different agenda than the one that Dumbledore had planned for him. In Flourish and Blotts he watched unnoticed as his former wife – now only eleven years old – sorted secondhand books into her cauldron. He observed a growing argument between her father, Arthur Weasley, and Lucius Malfoy. He kept quite still after the fight as Malfoy stuffed a fallen book back into Ginny's cauldron. And only as all eyes were on Lucius and his son Draco stalking out of the store, did he act to covertly begin changing the entire future of wizarding Britain.
After which, for several hours he tailed a vain dandy: the incompetent fraud that Dumbledore intended to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School next term...
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"Obliviate..." The word was no more than a murmur from unnoticeable lips, but Harry was pouring his magical power into the spell for several seconds. His victim, Gilderoy Lockhart, deserved nothing less for his many attacks on people's minds in Harry's former life. NO MORE!
The man staggered, stumbled, and looked around in bewilderment. He was vaguely aware of the familiar sounds and smells of Knockturn Alley on a warm summer's night, but could not recall why he was there.
You were on your way to St. Mungo's, whispered a voice in his head.
"Ah, yes..." He paused, even more confused.
Ask someone for directions, came the voice once more.
Harry walked away and didn't look back.
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"Suspended!"
Auror Solomon Stone stared at the head of his department in disbelief, but recovered quickly. "How long, Amelia?"
"One year. I'm sorry, Sol; you're one of my most trusted officers and I admire your aggression, but most of Gibson's hand can't be regrown and–"
"–The thief's wand was bound to his fingers – you know that!"
"You had many other options, Sol."
"Instincts, Amelia, it's instincts that have kept me alive during my fifteen years of service!"
Madam Bones nodded in sympathy. "The Minister keeps pressing me to–"
"–To hell with Fudge!" Stone slumped ever so slightly in his seat. "Law enforcement is my... everything."
She'd never seen him so despondent. "I guarantee your reinstatement in twelve months, trust me. Meanwhile..."
"Yeah, meanwhile..." Stone rose from his chair. "Meanwhile, what the hell shall I do with my life?"
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Unnoticed, across the street, Harry Potter watched Stone as he left the Ministry, harrassed by two news reporters – exactly as in his future memory of the Daily Prophet account. The ex-Auror glared back at them, shouting his annoyance, "I told you, NO COMMENT!" then strode away.
As he passed within twenty paces of Harry, a voice whispered in the man's mind. Stone hesitated in his stride, head cocked on one side, looking strangely buoyant – as if he'd suddenly recalled a promising opportunity...
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September the first. Harry Potter once again slid inconspicuously into the Great Hall for the opening feast, and took his place early at the Slytherin table. In his previous life he'd missed Ginny's Sorting and wasn't about to do the same this time.
When the first years were led in for the Sort, he quickly spotted the young girl, a black book clutched to her chest. She's carrying the diary with her? Is she so preoccupied with its content already?
He'd taken a well-considered risk with Ginny's happiness, he knew, but prayed he'd arrived at the right decision.
"Gryffindor!"
He sighed. At least she'd been Sorted as before, and would be with her four brothers. Yeah, like they never even noticed when she'd been possessed last time around! Harry crossed his fingers, then released them with a sigh; only time would tell.
But there was another newcomer at the feast who caught Harry's attention, and the Headmaster soon announced him:
"I am sorry to tell you that Professor Quirrell will not be returning to Hogwarts this year. Defence Against the Dark Arts will now be taught by Professor Solomon Stone who has taken a well-earned rest from his duties as Auror."
Harry reduced his 'notice-me-not' charm to nothing and applauded loudly to add to the general support the new man was receiving. He sensed he'd caught Dumbledore's attention, but he didn't care; the old man would not notice him soon enough...
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Towards the end of the first month of the new school year, Fred and George Weasley took a serious tumble down the great marble staircase and ended up in the hospital wing for several days. They swore they'd been tripped, but witnesses said no one else was anywhere near them. Without their map, the boys were more vulnerable, and without the twins, Gryffindor lost their Quidditch match against Slytherin.
Draco's crowing annoyed him, but Harry closed his ears to it. He'd determined to retrieve the invisibility cloak but patience was needed. More serious matters would occur this year that needed his full attention. As October began, he braced himself, knowing full well what was to come at Halloween. He had to prepare and rehearse very carefully and hope that no one got seriously hurt.
At lunch on the thirty-first, Harry studied Ron's younger sister, Ginny, from afar as she munched on a sandwich. Her attention was clearly glued to the book in front of her. Harry couldn't be sure from where he was, but most probably it was the Riddle diary. What was its message today? And what was she writing in response? Harry smiled a curious smile.
That evening, he reduced his notice-me-not to almost nothing, and headed to dinner with everyone else. He most certainly would NOT be going to Nearly-headless Nick's Deathday Party, nor would he be going anywhere near the second-floor corridor before anyone else, and he wanted everyone in the Great Hall to see him among them.
Only when the majority of students, having satisfied their hunger, were heading out of the Great Hall, did he trot along behind a group of Slytherins led by Draco heading up to the library. Once they reached the first upper floor, a commotion could be heard ahead from above. Harry knew what it must be of course, and, along with the others, rushed up another flight of stairs.
Further along the passageway, a few students were gathering to stare at the wall, and he went along with his fellow Slytherins to see what they had discovered.
Something was shining on the wall. They approached, slowly, peering through the gloom. Large words had been daubed in red on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
A cat with wide staring eyes was hanging by its tail from one of the torch brackets, stiff as in a butcher's freezer. A large puddle of water glistened and quivered on the floor, causing Harry to shiver with it; the scene so uncannily duplicated his memory that it seemed even more surreal than that first time. Unbelievable... he murmured to himself.
And that was his thinking as he lay awake that night into the early hours, waiting to deal with the problem. He had not dared to leave before his dorm mates were fully asleep. Ironically, he was only magically unnoticeable when he was present! Oh, they all knew Harry Potter dormed with them, but he never seemed interesting enough to give any thought to when he was there. But when he and his magical spell were absent, that was quite different, and anyone might have thought it odd that his bed was vacant after hours.
Satisfied they were all fully slumbering, he eased out of the door, totally insignificant, and strode towards the second-floor corridor and its ominous sign.
He arrived and noted the message had not been wiped away, but Filch's cat had been removed. Harry checked his watch, then carefully rotated his Time-turner. The writing was abruptly gone! – yet to be written!
All was silent except perhaps for the far-distant murmur of children – including himself – at dinner below. His map revealed that only he was present here at this time. Trelawney was up in her rooms. Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. Filch was down near his own office and his cat – where was Mrs Norris? ... Ah, there she was, moving jauntily along a couple of passageways to the right, destined, as before, to reach this location. And where was Ginny? Ah, there she was! He waited, listening carefully, there must be no mistakes if he was to prevent a terrible repeat of his former memories...
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Friday was double Potions again. Harry fidgeted while waiting outside the classroom, resolved to cast very slight notice-me-not spells over other Gryffindors besides Neville – ones who had also been given a rough time by Snape. Seamus needed to be observed because he could be downright dangerous, but Ron, Hermione and Dean deserved better treatment, and there was a girl called Dunbar who had been in tears during their previous lesson here. She was now right at the back of the rough queue, and looking very anxious.
The charm could be tricky when cast on others because Harry could lose track of who he had cast it on – a victim of his own spell. He had to really focus to prevent himself being distracted.
"And what did she say?"
Harry leaned out slightly to watch the discussion. Ron was being questioned by Fred and George.
"Nothing! Said she's fine," said Ron.
"But you must have noticed she's been behaving oddly?"
Harry scowled. They'd never noticed Ginny's changed attitude in his previous memories; he was sure of that – certainly not this early in the school year.
"You two!" Snape's acid tone could have curdled sterilised milk. "Unless you wish to resit all your previous years of Potions, I suggest you depart for wherever you are supposed to be. The rest of you – inside!"
As the twins tramped away, Harry just had time to render Ron slightly less conspicuous, and then frowned as he tried to recall if he'd missed anyone.
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That evening, habit drove Harry to zigzag through the castle passageways, keeping to the shadows away from the crackling wall torches. He was seeking release and relief in a small, little-known reading room off the fourth-floor corridor where he completed his homework. This narrow chamber consisted solely of one short, double-sided bookshelf and a small table beyond that. Four small children might just about squeeze in two-a-side, but the little room was off the beaten track and few ventured there. The result was one of the rare places where the boy didn't need to be magically unnoticable, and he could relax.
The day's Potions lesson had gone well. Nobody had drawn Snape's attention enough to annoy the unpleasant man, so he'd lacked targets. Curiously, he hadn't seemed to detect the more passive atmosphere of Harry's class – he just never noticed. The spell worked on the mind, not on the senses, and was very difficult to counter because there didn't seem to be anything significant to be concerned about.
Neville was thriving early in the company of Hermione. Ron seemed to blunder on, none the worse for not having Harry as a close friend. Luna – well she and Ginny were often together, and he'd long since charmed most of her personal possessions including her travel chest with Redhand Ruin so that anyone with sticky fingers would suffer intense pangs of guilt and shame, causing them to turn away with no place to hide from themselves. And as for–
"–Oh... erm... mind if I work on my History essay in here? Boring stuff needs more concentration, peace and quiet."
Harry spread a hand and rubbed his forehead to hide the sudden frown that creased across it. Of all the people in all the castle, why did–
"–I'm Ginny Weasley," the girl said briskly. "You might know my brother Ron."
"Yes, pleased to meet you," he beamed up at her across the tabletop; he wasn't going to ruin a single moment of her life if he could help it. "I'm Harry Potter."
Her smile quirked into a grin, but she didn't poke fun at his statement of the obvious.
He studied the young girl as she sat down. "You seem bright and breezy," he murmured. "Everything going well for you?" His eyes flicked covertly to the black book she'd included with her History texts and papers. He could just make out the name Riddle peeping out from under a couple of quills.
"Perfect, actually. I get to mix with more kids my age than I ever did stuck at home, and see my friend Luna more now too. Also..." As she cocked her head on one side thoughtfully, a fine curtain of red hair swayed across the side of her cheek, just as he remembered it.
"Also what?" Harry tried to mask his confusion. Though her voice was high and squeaky, the person in front of him was nothing like the shy, retreating child of his future memories. She was more–
"– I feel more... organised these days. Yeah, I got a nice guide book in August for my birthday, and it's helped me a lot."
"Really? Sounds good."
"Good? It's stupendous! I'm forever grateful."
She was staring hard at Harry.
She can't know, surely? There's no way she could know!
"Of course, I thought it was a joke at first," she went on, as she lifted up the black book and looked at its cover. "I mean, James Riddle? Seriously?"
Harry kept his expression neutral with a fake tinge of curiosity. "So it's...?"
"It's a similar magic to paintings; you write in it and Jimmy gives you advice. You ask questions and he answers if he can, or suggests where you might find solutions. In other words, it's like having a friendly advisor."
"That's brilliant!" cried Harry.
"Someone paid a lot for this one in Blotts, and then custer.. cust–"
"–Customised it?"
"Yeah, gave it a purpose. Even personed it."
"Personalised?"
"Yes. Someone took a lot of care to make it just right for me."
"One of your family then."
"No, someone who knows things, who has secrets. A person who stays in the shadows and–"
"–What makes you think that?"
"Jimmy told me. He told me lots of things. And I guessed the rest." She paused for a long time, bracing herself, then, "It was you, wasn't it, Harry?"
"Huh? The diary's confused you, Ginny. It's–"
"–Who said it was a diary?"
Harry came angrily to his feet. "It snitched on me then? The damn book betrayed me? It was supposed to–"
"–You didn't even tell it who you were!" Ginny snapped back.
"How'd you KNOW that I didn't!" Standing, leaning forward, the little boy almost towered over the young child facing him, but Ginny didn't flinch.
"I kept asking it who had changed it just for me," she said, "but it said you never wrote your name."
"Then how...?" He sank wearily back onto his chair.
Ginny's face flushed and, head well down, she scrabbled desperately through the empty pages of the diary to distract him from her embarrassment.
"How, Ginny?"
She lifted her chin defiantly and said softly, "I asked James for a way I could make friends with Harry Potter, if you must know. He said you would never reject me. Was he wrong?"
Harry struggled within himself. Becoming his friend, even being associated with the boy who lived, would put a target on her back. A memory of her broken, distorted corpse flashed through his mind. That must never happen again! And yet... he was also resolved to keep happy all the friends he'd know before.
"No one must know you've even spoken to me," he heard himself croak. "Despite rumours to the contrary, I have information that Voldemort is not dead and neither are his followers. They will seek revenge. And if they can't get at me, then they will attack anyone they know I care about."
The child smiled at him, and wriggled happily in her chair.
"This is not a game, Ginny. You have to believe me!"
"I do believe you, Harry! I know you better than you think. Although James didn't know your name, he understands you very well – said he'd been questioning you for years. Said you had good reason to be par-annoyed–"
"–paranoid." He took his map to the open doorway and looked out cautiously to make his point, then came back. "Promise me you won't ever mention knowing me. Promise me, Ginny."
Her eyes widened. "You mean...? Yes, I promise. So...?"
"Friends. Secret friends. Very secret friends. Your life depends on keeping this utterly hidden."
"I will, Harry, I will, but..."
"The diary will only respond to you and me. Tear out a single page and we can write any number of messages on it, then– we'll have to set up a safe dead drop where we can leave these notes."
Ginny chewed on her lip. "Harry, I..."
"We can only meet when there's no risk of anyone connecting us. I'll show you a hidden room where we can chat – this reading room is not secure enough so don't come here again unless you know I'm not here. But the timing will have to be crucial."
Ginny stared. "You sound like you've thought this through before!"
"In the back of my mind – but I told myself to shut up. This is stupid, Ginny, really dangerous. I'd tell you to give it more thought, but I know what your answer would be."
She frowned. "How could you possibly know anything about me? Why did you give me the diary anyway?"
"Secrets, Ginny, so–"
"–and what about Luna? She said for a while you'd driven away those who were bullying her."
Harry groaned. "How could she know it was me that– no, don't answer that. I might have guessed she'd– what do you mean, 'for a while'?
"A sixth-year prefect was covering for them. She removed the magical protection you put–"
"–WHAT! Damn it! Which one? What's her name?"
"Strick. Laura Strick. Smug and slippery."
"But she's a Muggle-born isn't she?"
"So what? I expect Muggles can be bullies."
That made Harry pause, but he was not to be sidelined. "Has Luna mentioned me to anyone else?"
"I think she already knows you want to be left alone, but I'll make sure. I'll let you know with– where's the dead drop? Somewhere remote where nobody will ever go. Maybe under that bookshelf?" She gestured down to the gap below the lowest shelf.
Harry thought for a while. "No, this room is spotlessly clean. The house-elves will consider that a sheet of paper is litter. Anyway, we need somewhere we both pass by naturally. I suggest you pin it in the bottom right corner of the main notice board in the Entrance Hall."
"What!"
"I'll make it so nobody else cares about it. Here, give me a sheet."
Ginny flipped through and carefully ripped a page out of the diary.
"That's today's date," frowned Harry. He ripped the date line off the top and handed it back to Ginny. "Keep that if you really need a reminder of the date you met the pathetic loser called Harry Potter. The sheet itself must be blank and uninteresting, like so..."
His wand moved slowly over the page. "It's a very light enchantment but you need to focus hard to realise it's there. When you write on it, tell Jimmy to reveal your message only to me, and I'll do the same."
Ginny nodded. "And the sheet will be invisible to everyone else?"
"Not invisible, they just won't care. They won't feel any interest in it and may even post a message on top of it – so always look in the bottom right corner and focus. If you get distracted then look even more carefully!"
"Okay. But..."
"And even if anyone could detect it, they won't crack the enchantment that keeps Jimmy hidden. Blotts paid big Galleons for the magic used on these private diaries. Only when you or I write asking Jimmy, will anything be revealed."
A pained expression crossed Harry's features. "Ginny, you must understand there can be no future in such a friendship. While the Wizengamot remain corrupt, then even if Voldemort really died, any known friends of mine would still likely suffer and die at the hands of his followers." He didn't add that he'd seen exactly that happen in the future.
"But..."
"I'm truly sorry, but my prospects are very dark, Ginny. I cannot defeat the system. And no adults help me when I really need them – they never have and never will. I must distance myself from those nearest my heart, by living alone in the shadows, by walking away unnoticed."
He left the room soon after and paused outside to make himself unnoticeable. For a few moments he thought he heard the sound of weeping behind him.
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A strange relationship followed Harry's meeting with Ginny in the reading room. She was eager to post messages on the noticeboard, and he dutifully provided her with an abundance to read in reply. He was never meagre even if the method was limited.
But it was not long before he arranged for her to meet him at the doorway into the Room of Requirement. Always he would use the Time-turner to travel back a few hours to attend her so that nobody would notice the regular coincidence of their absences.
They chatted, he helped her with homework, and he taught her useful subjects.
"Keep several of those thoughts ready, Ginny, then look me in the eye," said Harry, during one of their early sessions together. "The moment you feel a kind of intrusive tickle in your mind, pick one of the thoughts at random, then relax and adopt a listening attitude, as if you're expecting some inspiration or insight. That automatically clears the mind of all but the object of that thought in the background. Let your gaze drift to the mouth or shoulder of the intruder, and away from his eyes."
"And that will stop them reading my mind?"
"For the few seconds before you break eye contact. They won't detect anything interesting. They'd have to be brutal to dig deeper, but that would be so obvious you could scream and turn away. It's very unlikely they'd go that far without a powerful reason and–"
–Ginny blinked, lurched away. "Sorry, I wasn't ready. You took me by surprise."
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At the end of a late November day, Hannah, Hermione, and their friends were hurrying down from the second floor. "So you still think it's Draco, do you, Ernie?" said Hannah.
"He was there by the cat's body when the rest of us arrived, and he's a Slytherin, so he could be the heir."
"Justin, we should keep together in the corridors," called Hermione.
"Think I forgot my History textbook," replied Finch-Fletchley, in a kind of distant monotone, as he headed along the first-floor.
"What's got into him?" said Ernie. "History's not till Thursday."
"Did he sound... odd, to you?" said Susan.
"Come on, there's beef and potato pie today," cried Hannah, tugging on Hermione's sleeve. "Mmm... sweet onions and gravy – yummy, yummy."
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Justin Finch-Fletchley's footsteps slowed almost to a halt. One of the wall torches up ahead flickered and died, leaving the passageway in near darkness. He'd thought he'd glimpsed someone, just a flicker of movement in the dying illumination.
"Hello?" He stopped and pulled out his wand. "Who's there?"
Silence.
"Lumos Maxima!" he declared in defiance of his anxiety, then, despite his eyes being completely dazzled by his own spell, he strode forward.
Something glistened beyond the reach of the bright light he carried. For a moment he froze – then just as quickly his shoulders sagged in relief. "Professor Binns! You gave me quite a–"
–Through the ghostly apparition of his History teacher, he imagined he saw two huge yellow eyes – then, his wand light died and, stiff as a board, he fell hard into unconsciousness.
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"There's been another attack!"
Harry Potter almost dropped the gravy boat as he was spooning more onions onto his steaming pie crust. Filch's cry had shocked him as much as everyone else. The resulting uproar was not stopped by Dumbledore, who hurried out of the Great Hall accompanied by Professors Stone, McGonagall, and Snape, sealing the door behind them with a huge thunk of its iron lock.
"Everyone please remain seated! " came Flitwick's shrill squeak above the noise. "Prefects! I want a full headcount of everyone here in your respective houses. And I want it now, before those doors open again."
Finally, someone with common sense, thought Harry. But why don't they call the Aurors to investigate?
Unnoticed, he continued to eat his pie – but his hands were shaking. "When will this all end?" he muttered to himself.
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The news of the attack on Justin and Professor Binns was all anyone spoke about for days. Everyone had their own theory, but the fact remained that Justin, still clutching his wand, lay petrified in the hospital wing. Mandrakes were already being grown to prepare a restorative draught for Filch's cat, but it looked like it would be a long wait.
"I'm concerned about his eyes, Albus," said Madam Pomfrey, as the Headmaster paid yet another visit to the hospital wing. "The irises are almost fully closed – as if his attacker had blinded him with light first."
The Headmaster frowned. "Is that the patient's wand?"
Pomfrey handed it over from the bedside table.
Very quickly, Dumbledore had discovered Justin's final spell. "I believe his own light temporarily obscured his view, but the spell would have faded as he became unconscious. Hopefully–"
"–Yes, in that case his sight will be fine once the irises are no longer petrified," finished Matron. "But it'll be a wonder if he saw anything helpful at all."
"Quite."
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So far, Professor Stone's second-year Defence lessons had been knowledge-based with some wand work to practise various types of distracting and obscuring spells. After the attack on Justin, all that changed.
"Some of you may be wondering why the Headmaster has not reported Mr Finch-Fletchley's petrification to the Auror office. Be assured that the staff are keeping a watchful eye out, supported by the Hogwarts ghosts and its hundreds of paintings. Students are advised to move about in groups and report any unusual activity they see. However, the assault was almost certainly a crime and, in my opinion for the record, should have been reported for the experts to investigate. Still, that is the Headmaster's decision and we must abide by it."
Draco snorted. Unnoticed, Harry was inclined to agree with the Slytherin's sentiment for once. Professor Stone was an Auror through and through; his knowledge of investigative techniques was far more advanced than Dumbledore's. Led by Madam Bones, a team of experts from the DMLE would have interviewed everyone, and likely within a week or so have detected who was involved.
Stone had paused, gathering his thoughts; he had many years of experience as an Auror himself, but was still relatively inexperienced in teaching other than one on one. "In my classes we shall now be concentrating on practical defensive tactics. The students of each year will, of course, receive different instruction. First- and second-years must focus primarily on avoidance."
He waved his wand. Desks and chairs began sliding slowly to the side walls, with students scrambling to get out of their seats. A few preferred the ride and became almost trapped as the furniture huddled closer together away from the centre.
"Muggles enjoy a recreational sport using paint guns. I have designed a spell to do likewise which couldn't be simpler because it's all in the action and intent. Thrust the wand, and the incantation is simply one of two colours: Rubrum for red and Viridis for green. Then slash in any direction. Do that viciously because it will strengthen your intent, whereas accuracy comes from the thrust. Practise now on the side walls. I'll cast a few myself so you can study my movements."
It was not long before the students were having fun daubing the walls with red and green smilies. Stone had to raise his voice above the cries. "Notice the spell doesn't cast any actual paint. Instead it discolours whatever it hits. The effect is very temporary and one hit lasts less than a minute. However, a second hit overlapping the first will cause it to last an hour or two."
Harry smiled; just as he'd hoped, the kids were enjoying a practical lesson instead of answering Gilderoy Lockhart's dumb questions or fending off pixies without any instruction whatsoever.
Stone clapped his hands. "Very well, now split into two equal teams: red and green. You might think the purpose of the exercise is to cause as many hits on the other team as possible but nothing could be further from the truth. The entire purpose of this training is NOT TO GET HIT! Use any reasonable method you can think of: dodging, diving, distracting; pull out a desk to cover or hide behind a team member. You can even try to escape out of the door; If you succeed without ME hitting you, then you will gain ten house points. The winning team will be the one with the least hits, and any individual who doesn't get hit will receive five house points even if you're on the losing team."
The shouting increased as students started to form teams. Harry relinquished his notice-me-not spell completely. Inevitably, the Slytherins formed the green team, and Gryffindors the red.
"One final warning!" Stone shouted above the hubbub, "Do NOT aim for the eyes. If anyone gets hit in the eye it won't cause any lasting damage but it will inflict a coloured haze and victim and attacker must stand down with wand in the air for at least a minute until sight is restored. No one is allowed to attack anyone out of the fight in that way."
Harry let himself get hit a few times while scoring a similar very average result. As expected, Hermione mastered the spell quickly and did well, achieving a lot of hits, but was herself targeted by several Slytherins, including Draco, so spent most of her time learning to avoid getting struck. In a curious way, she was learning more from their viciousness than anyone there.
"Well done, everyone," cried the teacher after forty minutes of training. "And finally, each of you take one of these wristbands. Wear it whenever you are walking the corridors of Hogwarts and twist the fabric if danger threatens. An alarm will be triggered and staff will hurry to your location. But don't forget: run! dodge! take cover! Make it as difficult as possible for the enemy. That's all for now. Good luck!"
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December brought colder weather. Harry stared miserably at his map. Ginny was close to Dean Thomas in the Gryffindor common room. Would she become attached to that boy earlier in this lifetime? She seemed more mature than she'd ever been at this age. Perhaps there was nothing more significant in their being close than idle chat or homework help. She was only eleven after all. Still, ten minutes... fourteen... fif–
–And look – Hermione was at Justin's bedside in the hospital wing! Did she really care for him that much? She'd always been there for himself, the many times he'd been injured. He stared; the name 'Hermione' was overlapping 'Justin' – she must be leaning over him as he lay in bed. Was she trying to kiss him awake! "Damn!" He'd visited Justin himself only two days before, and there were several huge heaps of gifts and cards awaiting the good-looking youth.
It was hard not to be jealous of people who had friends and– wait, there was Luna alone on the outskirts of the Forest. Surely her feet wouldn't be bare at this time of year? Damn that prefect!
Harry sighed. He was not the only one who was hard done to.
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As Christmas approached, an event occurred that caused early rejoicing. Justin Finch-Fletchley had awoken naturally without the need for Mandrake Restorative! While Binns – the ghost, and Mrs Norris – the cat, still remained deep frozen, Justin's petrification had only last about four weeks!
This was new! This was quite different from Harry's future memories. Justin reported seeing through Binns the yellow eyes of a huge beast whose gaze was deadly. The rumour was his own eyes were already so dazzled, it had protected him from something worse.
Harry had to smile. The youth would be home to visit his family at Christmas and would soon make up the lost weeks of study. Perhaps Harry himself could volunteer to bring him up to speed? Yes, that could be done covertly.
But what of Hermione? She was spending more time with Justin, but was also practically living in the library. Was she researching what the creature might be – like she did before?
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Despite the short dark days that came with January, the atmosphere was lighter in the castle. Due to Justin's spontaneous early recovery, the monster didn't seem so dangerous now. Permission had been given for students to carry pinhole masks in the corridors, and wear them as soon as anything suspicious happened. Dean made himself a Batman's Robin mask and cape to every Muggle-born's amusement, while other walked around with their wands brightly lit all the time – despite being told their eyes would adjust to the light! Several hooded vigilante groups scoured the castle, determined to be the first to find the beast's lair.
In this cavalier mood, the next couple of attacks were treated with hilarity by many. Harry Potter himself was discovered petrified on the sixth floor and, a day later, Strick, the Ravenclaw prefect, was found petrified at the foot of the great marble staircase. She wasn't even bruised from her fall, but Madam Pomfrey said the bruises would form once she recovered and her body functioned again. It was not clear whether her eye mask had been dislodged during her tumble or whether she had pushed it aside to see more clearly. Nobody could believe both she and Harry had been so stupid as to walk alone the castle's passageways, and only the Potter boy had managed to sound the alarm using his wristband – but help arrived too late.
And, although Justin's petrification had only lasted a few weeks, months passed as Harry and Laura lay, rigid as statues, in the hospital wing, and there was some concern they would have to await the maturing of the Mandrakes to be revived. However, the atmosphere was generally optimistic. Nobody had died or been permanently injured – although Stone complained once again to the Headmaster that the crimes should be reported to the Auror Office. Yet Dumbledore remained deaf to his advice,
Ginny 'accidentally' burnt herself on a cauldron in Potions as an excuse to attend the infirmary, but apart from observing Harry's helpless situation, she could do nothing, and received no relief of anything but her scorched fingers.
It was well after Easter before the next attack, and then everything changed. Whereas previous human victims had both been single Muggle-borns or half-bloods on their own, this time was quite different. Three Slytherin Pure-bloods had been found petrified, their eyes wide with terror: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.
Clearly it was no longer safe to travel even in twos and threes. From then on, all students were chaperoned in groups by staff and senior prefects. This strategy seemed to have paid off, and the year passed with no further attacks.
"Potter...?" Madam Pomfrey stared in wonder. "Minerva, we'd better–"
"–I'll inform the Headmaster immediately."
Harry had awoken spontaneously as the month of June dawned. He smiled to himself: his command of the petrification spell was superb and he'd awoken within three days of his intention when he'd re-petrified himself in May. Two long sequential sessions of being totally disabled were a perfect alibi, and nobody would ever consider he had been involved in the attacks. If Dumbledore came running, he'd tell him he might have dimly seen a giant snake through his pinhole mask.
As soon as Matron released him, he retrieved his Time-turner from where he'd hidden it inside a sixth-floor suit of armour before petrifying himself for the first time – that was after he'd been hiding a full day in the Room of Requirement. He'd next cursed Strick on the stairs, then travelled back to petrify himself twenty-four hours before.
He recovered his invisibility cloak from Draco's travel trunk, knowing the boy would never awaken – no matter how much Mandrake Restorative was poured down his throat! Now he needed to ease his guilt of petrifying Justin by offering help with his studies next year.
As for Laura Strick, well, the sixth-year prefect might recover one day... in a few years... maybe... probably not.
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
Hope you followed that time switching, and that Harry swapped Tom's diary for a new one. But what of the old one? Later... ;)
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
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