Chapter 4 - Third Year
So much publicity surrounds this year, possibly only dwarfed by that whole Tr-Wizard thing next year, but again I am ahead of myself, aren't I?
For the majority of the year I spent in fear that Sirius Black was trying his damnedest to kill me. In retrospect, I should have known that anything "released by the Ministry" or written in the Daily Profit was a complete load of rubbish, but I was thirteen, and everyone was still icons to me.
Albus Dumbledore was the slightly mad, yet always infallible mentor to me then. Oh, I don't hate him we eventually became quite good friends. But he didn't lose his sainthood just yet. No, he still knew all.
So here I am going through this mess that is my third year, and I realized something. Voldemort didn't try to kill me that year. Oh, I was sure Black was going to, but well, we all know what Sirius was really doing.
One of my most prized possessions came from Sirius Black, my Firebolt. Oh how I love to fly, it pulls away the cares and the weight of the world from my shoulders. After leaving Hogwarts I spent a pile of the money I inherited from Sirius on a house in the countryside. It's huge. Honestly it's the place everyone assumes Harry Potter would live in.
I've been in it exactly four times. I spent a small fortune on the place, and placed nothing but the best furniture, rugs, and paintings in there. It's a lovely place. I can't stand it. It reminds me of everything that should have been.
Now, on the coast of Wales is another mansion, a sprawling edifice of stone and metalwork. This would be the ancestral home of the Dumbledore's . Oh, I own that too. Albus left it to me in his will, as well as a few other things. Aberforth lives there I think, I'm not sure, I've only been there once and he asked of he could "kip here for a bit".
At first I found it odd that Albus didn't leave the mansion to Aberforth, but a long night's talk over a very old bottle of scotch whiskey explained it all. Aberforth didn't want to own the place; he just wanted somewhere to hole up when he was "between things". He is not very materialistic. Everything he owns fits into a trunk that he carries with him constantly "You never know Harry, which way the winds will blow you."
Last time I saw him was just after the birth of our daughter Megan. He popped in and slept on our couch. Ginny can't stand him, but puts up with him because he's Albus's brother. I like him, in a small way; I guess he reminds me of Sirius. Anyhow at two in the morning Megan decided she needed a nappy change and food. Aberforth stood up suddenly, and said "Fine! Be that way missy!" and he stalked out of the house leaving us all very confused. That was three years ago, but we recieve cards from the strangest of places now and again.
Bother, now I've gone very far off track again as my mind wanders from subject to subject. As I've told my lovely wife, forgetfulness is the sign of a powerful wizard. Well, that's what Dumbledore told me anyway.
Today they finished this inane recreation of the Gryffindor boy's dorm with only two beds in it. When I informed them five slept in a room, the curator told me "It wouldn't be seemly for a wizard such as yourself Mr. Potter to be seen sleeping in a common dorm room." I just sighed and explained that my dorm mates had been Ron Weasley head of MLE, and son of the Minister of Magic, Dean Thomas head of the Wizengamot, Seamus Finnegan as much a hero of the Great War as myself, and Neville Longbottom. Neville really needs no explanation now does he?
Well perhaps my thoughts on Neville do. His mum and dad would be proud; I know his gran was. Neville is an Unspeakable, and was a bloody good Auror when he was in MLE. Neville changed quite a bit after the "Ministry Incident" as it's known now. Oh, he's no Harry Potter, as they say, but he's powerful enough. He's tops in his field of magical botany, and a damn fine job he has done with potions as well once he was able to work without being glared at by Snape.
So where were we before I wandered off on you all? Oh yes, third year. Despite her protests, I am going to tell you all a secret. Ginny Weasley was pretty even then. Of course I had quite a bit on my mind that year, and barely said more than three words to her at a time all year.
Merlin, I learned so much that year. Dementors, Boggarts, Werewolves, my mum and dad, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black. I learned to not trust everything for what it was, and god I wish I had learned that lesson better. But that's my trademark "hero thing" as Hermione put it in our fifth year.
Of course Black wasn't out to kill me, he was trying to protect me and kill Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew, now there's another anomaly. I should hate the man; he did after all turn traitor on his friends, directly caused the deaths of all of the Marauders, and lured Ginny into a trap in her seventh year. But I can only feel pity for him. In the end his inaction cost Voldemort the battle, and his life. But that's a tale for later in the book isn't it?
Oh, and Mandy, what other treasures of the past have you for us to see?
"You'll see over here is a replica of the room Harry Potter and Ron Weasley shared during their stay in Hogwarts. Notice the perfectly folded clothes, and almost unbearable neatness of his personal things?"
Yeah, right. That damned Monster Book of Monsters ate holes in anything that got near it, and god help you if two of them got within four meters of one another. I loved Hagrid dearly, but that man has a very odd sense of humor and what things are pet materials. When Mark was born, I had to make Hagrid take back the Wyvern egg he bought so Mark would have "a proper pet". Ginny was thinking a dog when she agreed to let Hagrid get Mark a pet. She should have known better.
So anyway our room was NEVER that neat, except during the sorting ceremony. I know our room in particular only Dobby would clean, well actually all of Gryffindor Tower because of those damned hats. Well, that's also a story for a later chapter.
Well, it's not like we were total slobs, it's just a lot easier to find your stuff when it's not all packed away. See you place the clean clothes in your cabinet, and the dirty ones on the floor in a heap and the elves return them the next day cleaned and folded. The books I wasn't currently using stacked up next to my bedside table where I stored my parchment, ink and spare quills. My trunk held my other items (shoes, spare robes, gifts.). My broomstick leaned against the headboard of my bed.
In the "recreation" a fake Firebolt leans against an intricately carved broomstick holder, you know the ones that cost fifty galleons. My books are carefully stacked in the open cupboard and my clothes are neatly arranged on hangers. There are a couple pair of shoes neatly lined up under the bed, and a picture of my parents rests on the nightstand in a silver frame. It's a muggle version of one of the pictures from my album. Colin did it for them; he's the only non-family member I ever allowed to handle my photo album.
Well, I managed to distract myself again. So I was sitting here thinking about third year. Quidditch was of course very much on my mind, as was the every looming danger of someone trying to kill me, and those damned Dementors. Destroying them was the best thing Mr. Weasley EVER did. It was also the first order he gave the Unspeakables upon taking control of the Ministry. I really think to this day that Arthur had them all destroyed for what they did to Bill.
Ron and I visit him at least once a month. We read the Quidditch scores to him, and if a game is on, we listen with him. The medi-witches say that he can't really comprehend, but honestly I don't care. I don't do it to assuage Bill, he's not really there anymore, I do it to comfort my own tortured soul. Ron does it because it's Bill. No one else visits him except Molly and Arthur. Ginny hasn't seen him since I had Bill moved into a private ward. Molly and Arthur both fussed over it as a needless expense, but I could tell they were both grateful. Sometimes it's good to be the Famous Harry Potter. Usually it stinks on ice. I had him moved from St. Mungo's to a private long-term care ward. He has his own room, and everything he could possibly need, if he needed anything.
Well, let's move on then. I didn't really say much about third year did I? Every time I think of that year other memories, horrible memories surface instead. Oliver Wood for example; I was invited to his bachelor party in the summer following my graduation. Ron and I barely made it back home alive. Good lord the amount of alcohol we consumed. Hermione and Ginny were VERY put off with us, but they saw us to bed and the next morning watched him get married.
Six months later we attended his funeral. Apparently Oliver Wood was playing at secret agent, and had been doing work for the Order while hiding behind the guise of "rising Quidditch star". He was on Puddlemere United for several years, and was discovered to be using the games as a means of keeping an eye out for Albus.
Oliver stumbled on the wrong group of men one day. Dumbledore assured me they killed him quickly. I am sure it didn't make Katie Wood any happier. She quit the Tornadoes where she was reserve Chaser, and damn near left the Wizarding world. George Weasley got to her first.
Oh there was an odd couple. They still are, for that matter, having been together now for seven years. Molly thinks they should get married and "stop living in sin". I think whatever makes them happy.
Ah well Mandy, let's leave this part of my life, and, much as I am sure I'll regret this, let's move on to my fourth year.
"Spanking good idea Mr. Potter, now if you'll step this way I'll show you a recreation of the four challenges of the Tri-Wizard tournament in which Harry Potter became the Hogwarts Champion, and Champion of the tournament."
So much publicity surrounds this year, possibly only dwarfed by that whole Tr-Wizard thing next year, but again I am ahead of myself, aren't I?
For the majority of the year I spent in fear that Sirius Black was trying his damnedest to kill me. In retrospect, I should have known that anything "released by the Ministry" or written in the Daily Profit was a complete load of rubbish, but I was thirteen, and everyone was still icons to me.
Albus Dumbledore was the slightly mad, yet always infallible mentor to me then. Oh, I don't hate him we eventually became quite good friends. But he didn't lose his sainthood just yet. No, he still knew all.
So here I am going through this mess that is my third year, and I realized something. Voldemort didn't try to kill me that year. Oh, I was sure Black was going to, but well, we all know what Sirius was really doing.
One of my most prized possessions came from Sirius Black, my Firebolt. Oh how I love to fly, it pulls away the cares and the weight of the world from my shoulders. After leaving Hogwarts I spent a pile of the money I inherited from Sirius on a house in the countryside. It's huge. Honestly it's the place everyone assumes Harry Potter would live in.
I've been in it exactly four times. I spent a small fortune on the place, and placed nothing but the best furniture, rugs, and paintings in there. It's a lovely place. I can't stand it. It reminds me of everything that should have been.
Now, on the coast of Wales is another mansion, a sprawling edifice of stone and metalwork. This would be the ancestral home of the Dumbledore's . Oh, I own that too. Albus left it to me in his will, as well as a few other things. Aberforth lives there I think, I'm not sure, I've only been there once and he asked of he could "kip here for a bit".
At first I found it odd that Albus didn't leave the mansion to Aberforth, but a long night's talk over a very old bottle of scotch whiskey explained it all. Aberforth didn't want to own the place; he just wanted somewhere to hole up when he was "between things". He is not very materialistic. Everything he owns fits into a trunk that he carries with him constantly "You never know Harry, which way the winds will blow you."
Last time I saw him was just after the birth of our daughter Megan. He popped in and slept on our couch. Ginny can't stand him, but puts up with him because he's Albus's brother. I like him, in a small way; I guess he reminds me of Sirius. Anyhow at two in the morning Megan decided she needed a nappy change and food. Aberforth stood up suddenly, and said "Fine! Be that way missy!" and he stalked out of the house leaving us all very confused. That was three years ago, but we recieve cards from the strangest of places now and again.
Bother, now I've gone very far off track again as my mind wanders from subject to subject. As I've told my lovely wife, forgetfulness is the sign of a powerful wizard. Well, that's what Dumbledore told me anyway.
Today they finished this inane recreation of the Gryffindor boy's dorm with only two beds in it. When I informed them five slept in a room, the curator told me "It wouldn't be seemly for a wizard such as yourself Mr. Potter to be seen sleeping in a common dorm room." I just sighed and explained that my dorm mates had been Ron Weasley head of MLE, and son of the Minister of Magic, Dean Thomas head of the Wizengamot, Seamus Finnegan as much a hero of the Great War as myself, and Neville Longbottom. Neville really needs no explanation now does he?
Well perhaps my thoughts on Neville do. His mum and dad would be proud; I know his gran was. Neville is an Unspeakable, and was a bloody good Auror when he was in MLE. Neville changed quite a bit after the "Ministry Incident" as it's known now. Oh, he's no Harry Potter, as they say, but he's powerful enough. He's tops in his field of magical botany, and a damn fine job he has done with potions as well once he was able to work without being glared at by Snape.
So where were we before I wandered off on you all? Oh yes, third year. Despite her protests, I am going to tell you all a secret. Ginny Weasley was pretty even then. Of course I had quite a bit on my mind that year, and barely said more than three words to her at a time all year.
Merlin, I learned so much that year. Dementors, Boggarts, Werewolves, my mum and dad, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black. I learned to not trust everything for what it was, and god I wish I had learned that lesson better. But that's my trademark "hero thing" as Hermione put it in our fifth year.
Of course Black wasn't out to kill me, he was trying to protect me and kill Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew, now there's another anomaly. I should hate the man; he did after all turn traitor on his friends, directly caused the deaths of all of the Marauders, and lured Ginny into a trap in her seventh year. But I can only feel pity for him. In the end his inaction cost Voldemort the battle, and his life. But that's a tale for later in the book isn't it?
Oh, and Mandy, what other treasures of the past have you for us to see?
"You'll see over here is a replica of the room Harry Potter and Ron Weasley shared during their stay in Hogwarts. Notice the perfectly folded clothes, and almost unbearable neatness of his personal things?"
Yeah, right. That damned Monster Book of Monsters ate holes in anything that got near it, and god help you if two of them got within four meters of one another. I loved Hagrid dearly, but that man has a very odd sense of humor and what things are pet materials. When Mark was born, I had to make Hagrid take back the Wyvern egg he bought so Mark would have "a proper pet". Ginny was thinking a dog when she agreed to let Hagrid get Mark a pet. She should have known better.
So anyway our room was NEVER that neat, except during the sorting ceremony. I know our room in particular only Dobby would clean, well actually all of Gryffindor Tower because of those damned hats. Well, that's also a story for a later chapter.
Well, it's not like we were total slobs, it's just a lot easier to find your stuff when it's not all packed away. See you place the clean clothes in your cabinet, and the dirty ones on the floor in a heap and the elves return them the next day cleaned and folded. The books I wasn't currently using stacked up next to my bedside table where I stored my parchment, ink and spare quills. My trunk held my other items (shoes, spare robes, gifts.). My broomstick leaned against the headboard of my bed.
In the "recreation" a fake Firebolt leans against an intricately carved broomstick holder, you know the ones that cost fifty galleons. My books are carefully stacked in the open cupboard and my clothes are neatly arranged on hangers. There are a couple pair of shoes neatly lined up under the bed, and a picture of my parents rests on the nightstand in a silver frame. It's a muggle version of one of the pictures from my album. Colin did it for them; he's the only non-family member I ever allowed to handle my photo album.
Well, I managed to distract myself again. So I was sitting here thinking about third year. Quidditch was of course very much on my mind, as was the every looming danger of someone trying to kill me, and those damned Dementors. Destroying them was the best thing Mr. Weasley EVER did. It was also the first order he gave the Unspeakables upon taking control of the Ministry. I really think to this day that Arthur had them all destroyed for what they did to Bill.
Ron and I visit him at least once a month. We read the Quidditch scores to him, and if a game is on, we listen with him. The medi-witches say that he can't really comprehend, but honestly I don't care. I don't do it to assuage Bill, he's not really there anymore, I do it to comfort my own tortured soul. Ron does it because it's Bill. No one else visits him except Molly and Arthur. Ginny hasn't seen him since I had Bill moved into a private ward. Molly and Arthur both fussed over it as a needless expense, but I could tell they were both grateful. Sometimes it's good to be the Famous Harry Potter. Usually it stinks on ice. I had him moved from St. Mungo's to a private long-term care ward. He has his own room, and everything he could possibly need, if he needed anything.
Well, let's move on then. I didn't really say much about third year did I? Every time I think of that year other memories, horrible memories surface instead. Oliver Wood for example; I was invited to his bachelor party in the summer following my graduation. Ron and I barely made it back home alive. Good lord the amount of alcohol we consumed. Hermione and Ginny were VERY put off with us, but they saw us to bed and the next morning watched him get married.
Six months later we attended his funeral. Apparently Oliver Wood was playing at secret agent, and had been doing work for the Order while hiding behind the guise of "rising Quidditch star". He was on Puddlemere United for several years, and was discovered to be using the games as a means of keeping an eye out for Albus.
Oliver stumbled on the wrong group of men one day. Dumbledore assured me they killed him quickly. I am sure it didn't make Katie Wood any happier. She quit the Tornadoes where she was reserve Chaser, and damn near left the Wizarding world. George Weasley got to her first.
Oh there was an odd couple. They still are, for that matter, having been together now for seven years. Molly thinks they should get married and "stop living in sin". I think whatever makes them happy.
Ah well Mandy, let's leave this part of my life, and, much as I am sure I'll regret this, let's move on to my fourth year.
"Spanking good idea Mr. Potter, now if you'll step this way I'll show you a recreation of the four challenges of the Tri-Wizard tournament in which Harry Potter became the Hogwarts Champion, and Champion of the tournament."