A/N: Well, here it finally is, the next chapter. This one took a while to get out; it wasn't easy to write, and then came Thanksgiving and all that. The good news is that the next chapter is mostly written already and should be posted fairly soon.
Many thanks to Kristin for your review! I am so pleased that you think this story is worth reading, and I am flattered beyond belief that I was the recipient of your very first review. I don't think I put quite enough humorous stuff in the story; it is hard to be as witty as J.K. Rowling manages to be, but I do try. FYI, I am not currently planning to kill off Sirius. I like him too much, and poor Harry has suffered so much tragedy already. Not that my ending won't be hard for me to write – I've been planning out exactly how to do it for a while now.
To answer your question about the Wheel of Time series: yes, I have read it! All ten books. To be perfectly frank, I was disappointed with the last one (and the one before it). I read an editorial that called the pace of the last four books "glacial", and I find that an apt description. Still, the breadth and depth of the story never fails to amaze me. I would not call myself a fan of the fantasy genre at all, but I am very fond of Robert Jordan and J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings books are still the best I have ever read. I received a set of them for my birthday when I was in the seventh grade and fell madly in love; since then, I have read them at least eight times. The funny thing is that when I first started reading Wheel of Time I thought it was a complete Tolkien wannabe, but it grew on me very quickly. Getting back to your question, though…
You have a sharp eye. Two things are notions I have adapted from the Wheel of Time: being a Dreamer, and the "bonding" between Harry and Professor Thornby. I don't mean for either of them to be the same as what Robert Jordan conceived of. The connection between Harry and his guardian allows her to know where he is and when he is in danger, since it's her job to protect him. In Jordan's books, Bonded characters can also sense each others' emotions, but Harry and Professor Thornby can't do that. I deliberately did not give the connection the formal name of "Bonding" because that would have been a total rip-off of Jordan, and they're not quite the same anyway. I took the idea of the ability to forge a special connection between two people (for the purpose of Harry's protection) and ran with it.
Hermione's Dreamer talent is like an extension of Divination; she can see events that may or may not happen in the future, and as she learns more about the talent, she will become more able to read the clues in her dreams. I thought it was fun to give this talent to Hermione because she is so disparaging of Professor Trelawney; it adds an element of irony. As of this chapter, she's only had one dream that was special, but there will be more. That's as far as I'm planning to take it; there's a lot more to being one of Jordan's Dreamers. "Dreamer" is the same term that Jordan uses, but I didn't change it because it fits in with the other talents: Singer, Seer, etc., and I couldn't think of a better name for it anyway. The idea of Singers is mine entirely. I suppose it's possible that someone else has come up with it on their own, but it did not come from Jordan's work.
I hope that answers your question! I think it's pretty cool that someone noticed the connection. With all that being said, I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter.
Chapter 19: The Dueling Club Reborn
The aftermath of the Quidditch match wasn't as bad as Harry had expected. Everyone in Gryffindor House thought he'd done the right thing, and once Ron realized this, his guilty feelings were assuaged somewhat. The two Ravenclaw Beaters even came up to Ron at breakfast the next day and apologized profusely for nearly killing him. While they were there, Harry saw Cho looking at him from the Ravenclaw table, a tangled mixture of emotions on her face. Harry looked away and made a point of not looking in her direction again.
Of course the Slytherins could always be counted on. Malfoy never passed up the opportunity to mock Harry and Ron whenever he saw them together. "You should have taken the hundred and fifty points, Potter!" he'd shout. "Surely you know that all the Weasleys are worthless?"
"Ignore him, Ron," Hermione said airily while Ron threw murderous glances at his enemy.
When they walked into the first Potions class of the week, Malfoy was still at it. "Save me, Harry, save me!" he cried in a high-pitched voice, pretending to swoon. The Slytherins all snickered, and Malfoy preened under their approval.
"Harry, what would you do if Fred and George knocked Malfoy off his broom?" Ron said loudly.
"Let him drop, of course," Harry answered just as loudly.
All the Gryffindors laughed except for Hermione, whose scowl nearly matched Malfoy's. "Remember what you promised Dumbledore!" she hissed at them. "You said wouldn't antagonize them!"
"We didn't start this," Ron said darkly.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Do you expect us to take this lying down?"
If Snape hadn't walked in and started the class just then, Harry knew what Hermione would have said – yes, she did expect them to take it. But whether or not it they were breaking their promise or just bending it, taking Malfoy on was a good way to get him to shut up.
With more than a month until Gryffindor's next Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, things seemed to be settling back down for a while. Without Angelina hounding them, Harry and Ron felt almost peaceful, although they still faced the same mountain of homework.
But if things were quieting down at Hogwarts, they were heating up in the rest of the magical world. There were rumors of Giants on the move and sightings of dark creatures on the Continent. Dumbledore was frequently absent from dinner, and Professor McGonagall refused to answer questions on the subject. Most ominous of all were the mysterious deaths that were being reported in the Daily Prophet. Husbands and wives were found dead in their homes without a wound on their bodies – but in nearly every case, the Dark Mark had been emblazoned on their front door.
What astounded Harry, Ron, and Hermione the most was that the Ministry of Magic still maintained that Voldemort was not behind the attacks. "How blind can you get?" Ron exclaimed after reading yet another article about the death of a hapless magical couple. "They can't possibly think they're going to fool people forever! There's no one else it can be!"
It wasn't long before they found that Ron was grossly mistaken. On a morning that began like any other, a tawny owl fluttered down next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table to deliver the Daily Prophet. There in bold print was the headline "MINISTRY OFFERS THEORIES IN STRING OF MURDERS". All three of them leaned over to read the article.
Kingston upon Hull, Yorkshire -- The bodies of Bradley and Cordelia Langston were discovered last night by John Dimmings, a friend of the couple. Their demise appears to be the latest in the string of murders that have terrorized the magical community for the past several months. The elderly witch and wizard were found with expressions of surprise on their faces and nary a mark upon them. Healers from St. Mungo's immediately pronounced the Killing Curse as the cause of death, and said that the couple had been dead for almost twenty-four hours before their bodies were found.
Mr. Dimmings was distraught with grief and declined to comment. Ministry Aurors have stated that he is not a suspect in this case.
"We have verified Mr. Dimmings' alibi for the night in question," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, a senior Auror with the Ministry of Magic.
When asked about who may be perpetrating these crimes, Auror Shacklebolt offered no insight. "We are doing everything we can to catch those responsible for these terrible crimes," he said. "I would advise all witches and wizards to be extremely cautious during these dark times. We have evidence that implies that this may not be the work of a single person: multiple sets of footprints at the crime scenes, lack of any struggle when multiple victims are involved, and more."
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, however, disagrees with Auror Shacklebolt's theory. "He may be correct; we are ruling nothing out, but I think there is one obvious candidate that has been overlooked until now: Sirius Black."
Harry's mouth fell open.
"As everyone knows, Black was convicted fourteen years ago of multiple murders and of being a Death Eater. He escaped from Azkaban two years ago and despite our best efforts we have been unable to recapture him. Everything fits: Black's penchant for murder, the Dark Mark on the victims' doors, and the ability to remain unseen."
The Daily Prophet inquired about specific evidence that points to Black as the perpetrator, and Minister Fudge admits that there is none. "However," he said, "I have no doubt that this is his work."
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, recently made public his opinion that Black was never a Death Eater nor was he responsible for the murders of Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles. According to Dumbledore, Pettigrew staged his own death and framed Black for it.
Minister Fudge dismisses Dumbledore's story as "utter nonsense. He is merely trying to protect his golden boy, Harry Potter, by altering the truth."
Sirius Black was a close friend and confidant of Harry Potter's deceased parents, Lily and James Potter, and is Harry's godfather, though he has played no role in the young wizard's life. Black has also been blamed for betraying the Potters to their deaths. He has not been seen since his escape from Azkaban.
Harry stared at the Daily Prophet in disbelief.
"How can he?" sputtered Ron. "Investigating every angle? He's leaving out the most obvious one of all!"
"Oh, Harry," sighed Hermione. "It always comes back to you, doesn't it?"
"They've got no evidence against him, none at all!" Harry muttered harshly. "How can they ignore Dumbledore in favor of a posturing –"
He cut off in mid-sentence as thick black script appeared on the Daily Prophet before them, letter by letter, as if being written by an invisible hand.
Do not discuss this in front of the other students. You have an audience.
Harry casually glanced at the Slytherin table and saw Draco Malfoy watching them with narrowed eyes. He was clutching his own copy of the Daily Prophet. Looking back at the paper, Harry saw the handwritten words fade away in a manner reminiscent of Tom Riddle's diary. Another message appeared where the first had been.
Please stay after class today.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked up at the staff table. Professor McGonagall was tapping an eagle feather quill against her cheek. There was no disobeying the deadly serious look she shot their way, so they folded up the paper and ate the rest of their breakfast in silence.
Not talking about Sirius didn't stop Harry from thinking about him. He had been hoping that the passage of time would make the magical world forget that his godfather was still on the lam, but Fudge had just single-handedly dragged him back into the public eye. Harry wondered how Sirius was doing. Was he being kept busy, or did he have to stay hidden at Alverbrooke? One thing was certain – he hadn't been seen out and about anywhere, or the Daily Prophet would have broken the story before you could say "Azkaban".
Transfiguration was the very last class of the day. When it finally ended the students all hurried out, eager for the evening meal. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made a show of slowly packing up their books, and by the time they finished the classroom had emptied.
Professor McGonagall rose from her chair. "Thank you for obeying my instructions this morning," she said primly. "I am going to keep this short, but we must wait for Professor Thornby. I have asked her to join us."
As if her name had been a summons, Professor Thornby appeared in the doorway. She was no more than three steps into the room when Professor McGonagall waved her wand. Harry felt the momentary deafness that marked the ward against eavesdropping.
Professor McGonagall wasted no time. "I want to assure the three of you that Sirius Black has not been seen, nor does anyone know where he is," she said. "Apparently I also need to remind you not to speak of him where others can hear you. In fact, you should not mention him at all. Him or Remus Lupin."
"Why can't we talk about Lupin?" challenged Ron. Professor McGonagall raised one thin eyebrow. "…Professor," added Ron.
"It's better if the rest of the world forgets that he exists," she answered. "The headmaster must hide his allies from both Voldemort and the Ministry. If the Ministry catches even a hint of active opposition…" She let the implication hang in the air.
"So I'm supposed to completely cut myself off from Sirius?" Harry said testily.
"How is that so different from the past few months?" said Professor McGonagall. "You haven't been writing to him, have you?"
"No!" Hermione exclaimed.
"We're not as thick as that," scoffed Ron.
Professor McGonagall smiled wryly. "Last year I might have disagreed, but you and Potter have both shown exceptional improvement of late." There was a definite note of pride in her voice.
"You don't have to sever your ties completely," Professor Thornby said. "Christmas is near, and you will see him then. If you must communicate with Sirius in the meantime, I will carry the message."
"Celeste is the only person you should use as a go-between," said Professor McGonagall. "She is tied to you, Potter, and you would know if she'd turned against you or if you were speaking to a look-alike in disguise. I know it sounds farfetched," she said, seeing their surprised faces, "but you can't be too careful, especially when the enemy has already used Polyjuice Potion to infiltrate the school."
"You think Voldemort might try that again?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed.
The professors exchanged glances. "These heavy matters were not meant for your young hearts," said Professor Thornby.
"I'd say we're in pretty deep already," Harry countered. Ron and Hermione nodded their agreement.
"You can say whatever you like, but you already know as much as you need to," Professor McGonagall said firmly. "Don't discuss Black or Lupin around the other students, and for heaven's sake be on your guard. When you start acting as if you have something to hide, people take notice." She left it at that, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew exactly whom she meant. When it became clear that they would get nothing else out of the professors, they headed off to dinner.
"I wonder what it was that they wouldn't tell us?" said Ron as soon as the professors were out of earshot.
"I didn't think Professor McGonagall needed to duck the question," said Hermione. "Of course Voldemort will try to infiltrate the school again – Harry and Dumbledore are both here."
"Maybe someone else wants to put a spy at Hogwarts," said Harry.
"Of course – Fudge!" said Hermione. "We all know he wants Dumbledore out of the picture."
"But do you think he'd stoop that low?" mused Ron. "If Fudge wanted to replace someone at the school using an imposter, he'd have to kidnap them or something."
"He might not need to use Polyjuice Potion to get a spy in here," said Hermione. "What about one of the teachers, or some of the students? There have to be people at Hogwarts who agree with his way of thinking."
The conversation ended on that depressing note, as they were too close to the dining hall to continue. As he sat down at the Gryffindor table, Harry found himself looking at his classmates with a suspicious eye, wondering who might be doing a little reconnaissance work for Fudge. It was impossible to tell such things from a person's exterior – Harry knew that – but that Ravenclaw third year looked a bit shifty, and that seventh year Hufflepuff had rather beady eyes…
"Hey, Harry! Catch!"
Something small hurtled past Harry's face and landed right in a nearby pitcher, spraying everyone with pumpkin juice. The pitcher gave an echoing Ribbit! and a pair of round yellow eyes peeked above the brim. A pair of webbed feet followed, but instead of being green or brown, they were a shocking pink.
"Grab him, Harry!" shouted George. Harry reached forward and put his fist around the little frog, which was scrambling out of the pitcher. The rest of its lithe body was the same neon pink as its feet and covered in purple spots.
"What on earth?" said Hermione.
"It's just an ordinary pond frog," said Fred. "The charm we used on him had some unexpected side effects."
"What charm would that be?" laughed Dean.
"Whoa!" cried Harry, before Fred could answer. The slippery frog wriggled desperately in his grasp and slipped right out of his fingers. It flopped onto the table, gave another loud croak, and jumped six feet into the air. Alicia shrieked as it landed in her potatoes.
"The Anti-Gravity Charm!" George crowed triumphantly.
The frog leapt straight up again and landed several feet further down the table, where a group of first-year girls began screaming. With each successive jump, more food was splattered and more girls squealed. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were beside themselves with glee.
"Oi, better catch it now," a red-faced George choked as the frog sailed from the Gryffindor table over to Ravenclaw, beginning a fresh wave of shrieks.
The frog didn't seem to want to be caught. It bounded down the Ravenclaw table while Fred and George ran along either side, grasping for it. It soared over Fred's head to the Hufflepuff table and then to Slytherin, and began hopping back the other direction.
By the time Fred finally closed his fist around the frog, which was protesting vocally, half the students were in tears. Up at the staff table, Professor McGonagall's shoulders shook with the effort of restraining herself, and Dumbledore was laughing aloud with the rest of the teachers. Only Snape had managed to maintain his usual dark scowl.
"Thank you for providing us all with the entertainment," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. "If I find a frog in my eggs tomorrow, I shall know who to blame." The Gryffindors applauded, and Fred and George bowed, grinning.
"I was going to save my announcement for after dinner," Dumbledore said, "but since I am already standing, I will deliver it now. Professor Thornby and Professor Bellaton have kindly agreed to reinstate the Dueling Club." Twitters of excitement broke out all over the hall. "I am glad that you approve," Dumbledore continued. "It is my opinion that you can all use some extra training on top of Defense Against the Dark Arts. There will be two sessions each week – one for the first, second, and third years, and one for the rest. The first meeting for the upperclassmen will be tomorrow evening after dinner. Lowerclassmen will meet the following night. Participation is voluntary, of course."
Dumbledore sat down again and the Great Hall exploded in talk. Only the upperclassmen remembered the Dueling Club, which had been formed three years ago. Since the incompetent Gilderoy Lockhart had been its founder, however, it had only existed for a short time.
"Lockhart was useless, but Bellaton and Thornby might actually know what they're about," Seamus said excitedly. "Everyone is going to come to this."
As it turned out, Seamus was quite correct. The following evening Harry, Ron, and Hermione left Gryffindor tower with every fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh year, leaving the envious lowerclassmen behind. As they neared the Great Hall they blended with the streams of students from the other Houses. Once inside they saw that the House tables had been removed to make room for everyone. Professors Thornby and Bellaton stood in the middle of the room while the students gradually formed a ring around them. Harry looked up toward the staff table, which was still in place, and saw the Heads of Houses seated there: McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout.
"Welcome to the Dueling Club," said Professor Thornby after everyone had assembled. "We are pleased that so many of you have decided to come, but you should know that Professor Bellaton and I will be treating this club like our classes. You will not be graded, but you will be expected to practice what you have learned between meetings. If you miss too many sessions, you will not be able to keep up with your classmates."
"We'll be teaching you to fight and defend not only with spells but with the staff as well," said Bellaton. A murmur ran through the students, who were grinning at each other. "I know it sounds exciting, but we'll be starting with the basics in both. First up: Expelliarmus." Several students groaned loudly. "I'll bet that at least twenty-five percent of you can't properly manage it!" Bellaton shouted over them. "There's no shame in that, but you've got to get the foundations right before you build on them. Now divide off into pairs with a student from your own House and year!"
The Heads of Houses stepped down from the staff table while the students formed four separate groups. Harry found himself paired with Neville again, and they faced off in a long line with the rest of the Gryffindors. When Professor Flitwick walked by, Harry realized what the other professors were doing; there were simply too many students for Bellaton and Professor Thornby to watch by themselves.
"When I give the word," Bellaton called, "attempt to disarm your opponent using Expelliarmus. Use any curses or hexes, and you will be asked to leave." He paused a moment to let the threat sink in. "We'll take turns by Houses. Gryffindor first. Choose which partner will cast!" Neville nodded nervously at Harry. "Ready?" Harry leveled his wand at Neville. "Begin!"
"EXPELLIARMUS!" the Gryffindors bellowed as one. Neville's wand flew out of his hand and straight into Harry's palm. Next to him, Ron was grasping Hermione's wand, but it seemed that Bellaton had been right – at least half of the students had not properly disarmed their partners. A few wands flew up toward the ceiling instead of into the casters' grips, and some of the charms had not worked at all.
They switched sides. Neville cast the charm along with the others, and Harry was completely shocked when his wand was ripped from his fist to land neatly in Neville's grip. He stood there with his mouth open while Neville grinned unabashedly at him.
"Well done, Neville!" said Hermione, who was clutching Ron's wand. Neville blushed but continued to smile.
The other Houses took their turns while Professor Flitwick walked among the Gryffindors who were having problems, correcting their pronunciations and wand movements. Eventually the students were all practicing the Disarming Charm over and over again. This wasn't too exciting for anyone who had already mastered it, so the groups were broken down farther. Harry and several of the others soon found themselves blocking the Disarming Charm with the Shield Charm while the others tried to master Expelliarmus.
Eventually the professors moved on to the staff, which was what everyone had been waiting for. They first learned Elongia, which transformed their wands into wooden staves that were as tall as their owners. The students that mastered it the fastest were soon off in a corner with Professor Thornby, who began to teach them the forms. Harry, Ron, and Hermione went through the motions, though they had already learned the forms over the summer. They certainly weren't about to let on that they had had lessons in advance. Draco Malfoy was also ahead of the learning curve; Harry could tell that his moves were executed with a precision that could only come from previous instruction. Probably learned the quarterstaff along with hawking, riding, and dancing, he thought grimly.
When the lesson ended, most of the students had gotten the hang of Elongia and had started on the forms. Everyone was talking animatedly as they left the Great Hall for their dormitories, excited about the possibilities that lay before them.
"Hey, Neville, what have they been putting in your pumpkin juice?" said Dean. "No offense, but you're just not yourself this year."
"It's the prefect badge," said Fred. "He used to be a perfectly decent chap, and now he's turning into a regular Hermione Granger."
Neville beamed with pride. "I guess I was just tired of being a screw-up," he said.
"But you'll always be a screw-up, Longbottom," drawled a voice behind them. "It's in your blood, you know."
Neville's face hardened. He whirled to face Malfoy, who was flanked, as usual, by Crabbe and Goyle.
"You shut up about my family," he said fiercely.
Malfoy smiled as if he were savoring something particularly delicious. "From what I hear, you live with your dotty old grandmother because your parents don't know their heads from their –"
"STUPEFY!" Neville shouted, pointing his wand at Malfoy with the speed of a striking cobra. Malfoy keeled over sideways. Goyle could have caught him, but he was so surprised that he stood stock still and let Malfoy crash to the floor.
"You can't do that!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson. "Just you wait until Professor Snape gets here, he'll put you in detention for the rest of your life!"
"Not if you're all out for the count," Harry said darkly, fingering his own wand. Pansy took a step backwards.
Neville raised his arm again. "Don't any of you ever, ever talk about my parents again," he said through clenched teeth.
Ron, Hermione, and the others were all frowning in confusion. Ron opened his mouth but shut it again upon seeing Harry's glare.
The Slytherins stood still, watching Neville's wand, which was still pointed at them. His face was a thunderhead.
"Come on, Neville," said Harry. "Let's go before someone comes."
Neville lowered his arm again, but his eyes continued to shoot daggers at the Slytherins until he turned and walked away. Harry and the rest of their companions followed. Gradually Harry caught up with Neville while a gap grew between them and the others.
"You know," Neville said flatly, staring straight ahead.
"Yeah," replied Harry.
Neville nodded. "Okay."
They said nothing else as they climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. Once they reached the common room, Neville went straight up the dormitory stairs and out of sight.
"What was that about?" said Dean.
Harry turned to see everyone looking at him quizzically. "Neville will tell us when he's ready," he said.
"Oh, come on," wheedled Seamus. "He's already told you."
"He never told me anything," said Harry, "and I think it's pretty obvious that he doesn't want to discuss it, wouldn't you say?"
"I thought his parents were dead," mused Lavender.
"Well, don't talk about it around him," snapped Harry. "You'll only make him feel worse." He stalked off and plopped down on the sofa in front of the fire, which was popping and crackling merrily.
After a moment, Ron and Hermione came to join him. "You are going to tell us, aren't you?" Ron asked quietly. Harry shook his head. "Why not?" Ron exclaimed.
"Because I promised," Harry said, and Ron wisely let the subject drop.
That night when he entered his room, Harry found that Neville was already in bed with his curtains closed. Harry climbed into his own four-poster and drew the hangings closed around him. He lay there in the dark, wondering what it was like to have parents who no longer recognized you. Frank and Alice Longbottom had been Aurors; that's what Dumbledore had said. Good ones too, by the sound of it; why else would Voldemort have picked them to torture into insanity? When push came to shove, he and Neville weren't really so different, Harry realized. They both had a lot to live up to, and they neither of them had parents – not really. It had always looked like Neville would never become a competent wizard, much less a great one, but if he continued to show the backbone he'd showed tonight…
Whatever Neville turned out to be, Harry knew that he'd be cheering him on.