Harry Potter and the Staff Of Discord
By Demosthenes


-Prologue-

A bright field of stars shone in an endless panorama. The glittering dome of the sky spread above the earth in perfect clarity. It was a warm evening, in the prime of summer, and the western sky was still tinged with remembered crimson. A young man lay upon a hill, behind a house, in a field of clover. The rich scent of the plants swirled about him as he rested, watching the stars.
This young man was dividing his time between thinking and dreaming, certainly ordinary for a boy of his fifteen years. He was enjoying a summer evening outside his home-also ordinary. But this young man was far from ordinary.
His name was Harry Potter. He was a wizard. He lived in a world filled with magic, adventure, and mystery. Harry did not consider himself unusual - far from it. He had many friends and acquaintances who were much the same. That magical world was his, and he was most at home in it. The ordinary non-magical (Muggle) world seemed alien to him now. In truth, though, Harry was extraordinary even in comparison to the witches and wizards he knew and loved.
Harry Potter was famous. Millions in the Wizarding world knew his name. During his first year of life, Harry had come dangerously close to having it ended. The Dark Lord Voldemort-the mightiest wizard seen for a millennium- had come to call on the Potters. The dread sorcerer had murdered Harry's parents, who gave their lives to protect their son. Upon his attempt to slay the infant Potter, Voldemort found his body shattered and his power broken. The boy who lived had ended a decade of abject fear.
Later, Harry found that his conflict with the Dark Lord was to continue. After being informed of his true heritage and coming to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the young sorcerer confronted Voldemort and his minions with surprising frequency. The previous year-his fourth at Hogwarts- Potter and his friends Ron and Hermione played a great part in the destruction of the Heresiarch, the most awesomely powerful wizard ever to walk the earth.
Harry and his friends paid dearly. They suffered grievous harm to life and limb. Harry's wand was shattered. An innocent man sacrificed himself. But in the end, the Heresiarch was stopped. The ancient and parasitic being that was known as Voldemort was banished from space and time, cast into a ceaseless void.
The terror that had stalked the world was gone. Surely the Dark Lord could not be recalled to Earth, intentionally?
Harry Potter slept.
__

Grey oblivion. No stars shone. Only infinity upon infinity, filled with a pulsing nothingness. A space between and outside all things stretched into forever and never.
A disruption. The fabric of emptiness changed. A cry reached out into the void.
A sleeper awoke.
-1-

Morning found Harry Potter making his way up the dew-covered hillside. The wonderful smells of cooking food drifted down toward him from his godfather's house. Sirius Black, his legal guardian and father's closest friend, would be up and about already. A post owl flew by overhead, carrying the morning newspaper.
Sirius' house was fair-sized, and somewhat ramshackle, despite restoration after his release from prison. A low wall surrounded the house and wild garden. The house itself looked like a conglomeration of three or four architectural styles and seven or eight building materials. Some would call it rustic, or charming, or suchlike trash. To Harry it was home, and the second most wonderful place on earth, preceded and succeeded by Hogwarts and Ron's home, the Burrow.
Inside, Sirius Black worked carefully burning scrambled eggs while the sausages awaited the coming conflagration. It was never safe to let that man loose near a stove. Oh well. Harry's godfather was a kind and spirited man, possessed of a razor wit from his childhood and a harder side from his long incarceration in Azkaban, the feared wizard prison. He greeted his godson and tossed him the Daily Prophet, which had been turning its own pages so Sirius could read.
Replying with a cheerful "Good morning," Harry opened the paper. The moving photographs were, as always, fun. There was no important news. Just as well.
Leafing through the mail, Harry found a letter, addressed to him, written on very fine parchment. Opening it, he read a rather bizarre invitation.

To Harry Potter, 5th-year Hogwarts student:
We cordially extend to you an invitation to the opening gala of our exhibition on magical artifacts of the past millennium. The centerpiece of this exhibition was acquired after extensive searching and is being appended to the museum collection at this time. Needless to say, we wish to spread the word of our exhibit as widely as possible. Thus, we have been most fortunate to enter into an agreement with the Hogwarts faculty. All fifth-year students will be visiting the exhibit on opening night, November 23rd. Further information will be given to you upon arrival at school for the fall term. We thank you for your time and eagerly await your attendance.
Welsh Museum of Wizarding History
Ruins at Pendre Ifan
Chief Curator Regenstern

Puzzled, Harry set down the letter. A museum gala sounded...interesting.
Oh well. Hermione would be there. And, kicking or screaming or not, so would Ron.
__

Time comes and time goes, and, though he had had the single best summer of his life, Harry soon had to prepare for another year at school. He was happy to do so, however. For the first time, once with his godfather, Harry had a home where he was accepted and loved. The Dursleys no longer held sway over him. But all the same, Hogwarts was the first place he could remember happiness and friendship. It had been the focal point of his life. And it, more than any other place, was home.
Every existence is dependent on the fulfilling of certain ritual tasks. For Harry, it was the annual trip to Diagon Alley. Armed with the school supply list and letter from Hogwarts, the young sorcerer was prepared for a most unusual day of shopping. The cultural and economic center of Wizard London, Diagon Alley was an incredible maze of stores and oddities, well suited for the average Hogwarts student. A variety of other roads led off from the central path. Knockturn Alley had everything a budding necromancer could wish for, while Idee Alley was devoted to making the world a better place.
Harry usually looked forward to meeting his friends in one of the many stores. However, both Ron and Hermione were unable to travel that day. Ginny Weasley-Ron's sister-was ill, and Hermione's parents were attending a convention on gum regeneration in cases of extreme gingivitis. Unavoidable, true, but took some of the fun out of the day.
In one of the shops, Madam Malkin's Robe Emporium (New Location, Grand Opening), Harry ran into someone he had never met before.
When both had gathered their bags, dusted off, and apologized, they blinked and stared. The stranger was clad in the black robes of a Hogwarts student, and a letter with the school seal protruded from his pocket. He looked Harry's age, but was certainly not a current Hogwarts student. Breaking the silence simultaneously, they began to speak.
"You're Harry Potter!"
"You go to Hogwarts!"
"Okay, okay. You got me. I surrender. Not to be crude, good sir, but what wouldst suggest to thee-I mean, uh, what happened to be your first clue? My name's Kaspar. It is my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. As it happens, I'm a transfer from a school on the continent. They, uh, disbanded it...shut it down, you know."
"In that case, Mr. Kaspar, I'm sure we'll be happy to have you join our school. Glad to have met you. Hey, are you finding the shops you need? I'd be happy to show you around."
"Well, if you really don't mind..."
"No, no. It's a confusing place. Besides, I have a few hours to spare."
And so the day went on. Harry introduced the newcomer to Diagon Alley and some of his classmates along the way. Talking to Kaspar was a bizarre experience. He spoke with an untraceable accent and a strange, lilting tone. His mannerisms and speaking style changed regularly, as though he had gotten out of practice in talking and was figuring out how best to do it. But he was a fascinating person, full of strange insight and ready humor. Harry was certain they could become friends.
Kaspar stood about half a head taller than Harry, with a lithe, muscular frame. Facially, Harry supposed most girls would call him handsome. His skin was oddly pale, his hair a deep brown, and his eyes piercing blue, with an iridescent shimmer. They were like ice, though- bright and shining, but flat and cold. It was strange, but a small matter. They didn't reflect his personality. The transfer student was friendly and extroverted, almost to the point of bombast. His occasional sarcasm could etch glass. And he had a gift for figuring out what you were thinking-almost like he could read minds.
But, their shopping completed- and an invitation to a trip around Diagon Alley's Amsterdam equivalent extended- the time came to part. Harry bid his new friend farewell, and looked forward to their next meeting. It had been an interesting day, thought Harry, as he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Sirius. At least he hadn't been lonely.
Returning home, Harry found Hedwig-his owl- with company upon her perch. A large horned owl of regal bearing sat in state, with a heavy parchment letter upon its leg. It was another letter from Hogwarts. Wonderful, thought Harry, more shopping. The message contained Harry's course schedule, though- no more supplies needed. For the most part, little had changed. Fifth-year courses of the staple classes: Transfiguration, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, and Astronomy.
Care of Magical Creatures, of course, and Divination-he hadn't been able to drop the course. A few new classes were included on the list, though. Advanced Magic Theory was a requirement for fifth-years, and Ancient Runes, Etc. as well as Elementary Dueling, an intriguing elective. A busy schedule, on top of the frequent Quidditch practices, but that was what made life interesting.
A second note within the paper confirmed the invitation from the Museum. Professor Binns had made the arrangements; everyone would go, and doubtless have to write several papers. Joy. Still, there was no mention of the exact nature of the exhibit "centerpiece".
After finishing his summer homework, Harry found that all was in readiness. He would meet his friends at King's Cross Station on the first of September, and then go once more into the grand adventure of a Hogwarts term.

-2-

The train station was always crowded; bustling with people going here and there, back again, then somewhere else entirely. However, one day a year it seemed, if not busier, then more active. The people seemed stranger, as well. A security guard who had spent most of his life at his post watched them come and go, but always for that one day it was different. So many passengers seemed out of place, lost, amused. Many had large trunks, as if their children were going to boarding school. But he never saw them board the train.
Harry Potter and his godfather walked through the illusory barrier into Platform 9 ¾. Before them appeared a crowded train platform, stuffed with wizard families, waiting to board and wave goodbye to the Hogwarts Express. The massive red train would leave from the station, concealed from Muggle eyes, and embark upon the long, winding journey to the world's foremost magical school.
Finding a space in the corner, the two said goodbye. Each was the closest thing to family the other had in the world. Sirius Black, a man hardened by the darkest fate in the Wizarding world, survivor of a decade in the nightmares of Azkaban, could not help but shed a tear. "Your father dreamed of the day he could watch his son step onto the Hogwarts Express. I guessI get to feel all the pride he never could. Go. Learn. Bring honor to your parents' name. And, for the sake of all that's decent, try to have a normal year, okay?" He clapped his godson on the shoulder and was met with an embrace. Sirius smiled. "Go find your friends. Just be sure to write."
Fighting his way through the swarming mass of humanity, Harry looked around for Ron and Hermione. It had been far too long since he had seen them. If Black was the father he had lost, then Hermione and Ron were his sister and brother. They were his dearest friends. The three comrades would go to the ends of the earth for each other, and then some-
"Harry!" A shout in unison drew his attention over to another corner of the platform. Hermione and the Weasley family were huddled against the press of the crowd, waiting for the train to board. Retrieving his trunk, Harry went over to join them. He was greeted with the usual firestorm of Weasley welcome. Mr. Weasley shook his hand. Mrs. Weasley simultaneously shattered his ribs and smothered him in a motherly hug. Ginny blushed and smiled, Fred and George offered him a strangely colored piece of chewing gum, and Ron, looking embarrassed, high-fived him. Hermione, quietly laughing, threw her arms around him. About her neck was a simple silver chain, with a fitting for a gemstone that no longer adorned it. She drew back and smiled. "Good to see you again. It's been a while."
Chatting with the Weasleys, Harry passed the time until the train was opened. Seeing Mr. Weasley, Sirius came over to talk. The two were, if not old friends, then fast ones. Mrs. Weasley always seemed uncomfortable around him, though. Maybe it was ten years of believing he was a mass murderer. Acquittal sometimes took a while to sink in. Sirius and Arthur happily discussed Quidditch, the inflation rate of the Galleon- the standard wizard currency - and, in hushed tones, some goings-on at the Ministry.
The signal was given to board. Fighting with their own trunks, both Harry and Ron offered to help Hermione with hers. Instead, she glanced furtively around. Giving her case a quick tap with her wand, she lifted it easily. Harry and Ron gaped at her open-mouthed. "You're going to get busted by the Underage-Magic-Use department, you know." Said Ron.
"I don't think so, Ron. Look," she said, pointing to the station walls. "There's a massive field of disruption from the electric and magnetic power systems of the Muggle trains. To anyone watching, that looked like a power surge on rail five. Let's go." The three friends waved goodbye to their families. Everyone waved back, except George and Fred, who were both engaged in trying to write 'electromagnetic disturbances caused by Muggle power systems' on their hands.
As bustling as the platform outside seemed, the Hogwarts Express never seemed to lack for space. Harry, Ron and Hermione found a compartment of their own, with two seats to spare. The train was not yet full, so they would likely have company. However, it was nice to enjoy a few minutes of privacy and catch up on each other's summers. Ron boasted about his trip to the Chudley-Islington Quidditch match. Hermione spoke happily about her visit to Spain. When she had finished, Harry told with great joy of his perfectly average summer.
The door burst open. In fell Neville Longbottom, a clumsy, forgetful, but likeable boy. Dusting himself off, he said hello and walked through the compartment into the wall-that is, door-that is, the newly opened door into the next. Shortly after him came Kaspar. Smiling, Harry introduced the transfer student to Ron and Hermione. Kaspar shook their hands warmly then made a mockingly formal bow. "It is my pleasure to make thy acquaintance, milord and lady." They laughed, and he flashed a dazzling grin. His personality ensured that he would have no trouble making friends at school. Kaspar had won three already.
The train wound its way along a lengthy course, across mountains and valleys, open spaces and forests, which one could never really find on a map. The trip took most of a day, and though the train had left early in the morning, evening was giving way to night when it reached its destination. Set atop a hill, facing a lake, and silhouetted by a darkening sky, Hogwarts castle rose, shining, before them. The students of the great school disembarked from the Express and stood in wonder. Even the students who had seen it many times could not help but gaze like first-years. This was to be their home - it was their home, each one of them, home, and it would always be. It was a beautiful and fascinating place.
Hopping in a carriage drawn by horses that weren't, Harry smiled and looked out the window. He had come once more to Hogwarts.
__

The castle was lit like a star in the gathering night. Candles blazed from every window, welcoming, and calling them to a new year. The great doors were opened wide as the students left their carriages. The first-years, plus Kaspar, looked around in stunned amazement. Harry remembered the thrill of the ride across the lake, seeing Hogwarts in glorious splendor. The newcomers were led inside and away to a different room, in preparation for the Sorting ceremony. They would soon be divided into their respective houses in the timeless ritual.
The returning pupils were allowed to proceed into the Great Hall. The heart and hub of Hogwarts was bedecked in vibrant color, with the house banners unfurled and the tables set with golden finery. The teachers stood upon their raised dais, waiting to sit. At a signal from Headmaster Dumbledore, the students filed to their places. The houses divided into their own respective tables, and all were seated.
Without further ado, the Sorting Hat was brought forward and set upon a stool. It was a wizard's peaked hat, patched and worn. But it was much more, as well. Since the founding of Hogwarts, the Hat had been used to examine the heart and mind of each new student. Their aptitude, attitude, and moral fiber were used to place the pupil in the proper house. And, in a thousand years of Sorting, the Hat had never been wrong.
The Sorting began. First-years stood in nervous rows along the wall, waiting for their turn. Finally, when all had been made Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff, Kaspar stepped forward. Professor McGonagall read his name aloud, "Velat, Kaspar". He sat down upon the stool placed the Hat upon his head. The tear that served as the mouth of the Hat shot open immediately. It was about to pass judgment when it stopped. The mouth began to close, and the Hat quivered slightly. The tear opened again, and began to close, but spread wide once more.
"Gryffindor..." whispered the Sorting Hat.
Kaspar smiled.

__

The feast was the consummate example of celebration. After the whole of Hogwarts had dined its fill upon endless victuals, and a sleepy complacency had settled over the student body, the Headmaster rose to speak. Albus Dumbledore looked much the same as he always did. His radiant blue eyes shone with the seeming of a perfect joke known only to himself, but retained a quality that could look into you every bit as well as the Sorting Hat. His hair and beard gleamed silver. One thing had changed, though. Dumbledore lacked none of the vitality that marked him, but physically, he appeared frailer. It was as though his seeming agelessness had begun to wear at last.
In a clear, musical voice, the Headmaster of Hogwarts addressed his students. "Greetings to you all. It gives me great pleasure to speaking to you this year. I am certainly happy that you have come here. More so, though, I am glad to say that I have no dire news whatsoever to brief you on this year. No ancient wizards, escaped murderers, or forbidden corridors need warning away from. So, with that to start from, I propose that we all try to have a normal year. That said, I do have a few minor announcements to make.
First, I would like to greet our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Ydur." Attention shifted for a moment to the short, powerfully built man at one end of the long teacher's dais. Dark of hair and eye, the new teacher wore an expression somewhere between scowl and smile. He bowed at Dumbledore's acknowledgement, and then sat back down. Dumbledore continued,
"I am sure many of you have questions about a certain letter you may have received. Professor Binns has asked me to explain. The Welsh Museum of Wizarding History is perhaps the largest and most renowned museum of its type in the world. They have made multiple additions to their collection, and are celebrating the new arrivals with a gala event. Now, you may be wondering why this concerns you, my dear fifth-year students. Professor Binns has procured reservations for your entire year to attend the exhibit. You will be expected to write a paper on one of the exhibit's pieces in advance and deliver it to the Professor. He will assign the artifacts to you later.
And so, Hogwarts, I come to the end of my speech and we come to the conclusion of our celebration. Please proceed to your house dormitories. Good night to all."
In a sleepy daze, the student body walked the familiar paths toward room and bed. The Gryffindors gathered before a portrait of a fat lady, which swung open at a password. The portal closed, and a new year began.