Harry Potter and the Tempest of Time
8th book. Sequel to the Blue Bloods and the Emerald Leaf
Chapter I: When of Age
He should have known that Harry Potter would die. In this reality, all living creatures are born and will then pass with their forever-long years into a calming death. And young Harry was no exception to this rule of life. He too would die one day; yet, his time was not this day or tomorrow's or even the one after that. No, he still had great things to do. Hogwarts was his training ground, his glorious seven years to master his power and fine-tune it so that his mightiest could then be explored indefinably.
But just now as a hellish year had ended, more brutality was left unseen. With Hagrid on the verge of insanity, Hermione off to intense academic studies and Ron interning at the Ministry of Magic, Harry had to begin his own path. His now muscular body, still pale and awkward, towered to six feet with dark hair framing his less narrow face. Cheekbones and more manly distinctions filled his once boyish complexion. His glasses were of no use, for Harry used some of his saved galleons to purchase a correcting spell, one that permanently fixed his vision.
Although Harry could have learned the spell on his own, he would have needed several weeks to months to master it. He did not have time for such luxury, as Hermione would call fourteen hours of studying per twenty-hour day. Most of his days were spent remodeling Sirius's home, the one that he shared with his good friend Neville Longbottom. While both growing in strength and in mind, Neville grew to Harry as a kin, no longer a friend but some one Harry cared deeply for and as did Neville the same.
The home was a more pleasant site to look at than the previous year when at least Hagrid was around to clean up the place. But, Hagrid was not around, and he would not return. Harry had to accept yet another father figure failing on him. This time was different however; when Sirius died, it could not be completely blamed on Harry. Yet, Hagrid's insanity was directly because of Harry's sudden disappearance the previous year. If Harry had not been under Salazar's control, if he had not done the horrible things he did, if it had not been for many difficult choices resulting in a fellow wizard's death—Hagrid would be with him right now.
At least his progress was improving. Hagrid's chamber in the new ward for mentally challenged wizards, otherwise referred to as the Cuckoo's Nest, was not as cold as it was the last time Harry had visited. After graduation, Harry had taken two weeks to visit poor Hagrid. His room was nothing more than wall to wall black cement with the smallest crack in the ceiling as to let in a light so pure it spread white dots sparkling down in a stream onto the floor. Hagrid did not recognize dear Harry. The slightest sign he gave was the muttering of 'nuh', a gibberish that only he could understand.
During his second visit, Harry found Hagrid's quarters much more aesthetically pleasing. The walls were no longer black but a slate gray and on the furthest wall there now was a small painting made of crayons and paper. Etched onto its surface was a poor, misconstrued scribble of one large square and several rectangles poking out of it. When Harry asked Hagrid what it was, Hagrid simply replied, 'ogwa,' and again, Harry's understanding of the weakened half-giant was miniscule.
With Hagrid's mind deteriorating as fast as Harry's self-pride of himself, much more misery took hold of Harry than joyfulness or bliss. For every heroic feat Harry acted, a greater defeat occurred. Yes, Harry saved the school from the return of Salazar Slytherin the previous year, but in doing so, he cost the life of his friend Fly. Yes, Harry was the one who helped destroy the Blue Bloods in his sixth year, but the price—half of Hogwarts was destroyed and had to be rebuilt during an extended summer—Kimberly Hooch was transferred to another school along with her mother, Madame Hooch—and Ron and Hermione's relationship was forever changed. Well, the last consequence of Harry's action was not completely a bad thing. They were happy together, even if they hid their romance from others, including Harry.
But does all the good that Harry does outweigh the evil? Does saving one life justify the death of another? Harry certainly does not know the answer; you do not know the answer; and if some being or another claims they do, then more chaos has yet to come. And with Harry's ponderous of his morality, his coming of age crept into his mind. By the end of the summer, Harry would undergo the very thing that all wizards dream of. The day when they are old enough to step into the real magical world and use the most difficult and most useful magic there is.
And with this occasion comes both great responsibility and great parties. In planning this celebration, Harry had compiled a list of names ever since his second year at Hogwarts. Over the years, numerous names had to be slashed and new ones added some of which included Cho Chang, his forever love that can never be. With Cho studying the ancient wizards in Atlantis (a real island full of the some of the first wizards and witches, now protected by the same shield that makes Hogwarts' invisible), she would not be able to see Harry for several months. Even though they write each other, it is not the same as a flesh and blood connection.
Hagrid's name had been written and crossed off the most. Harry desperately wanted him to be there, but he did not see how that could be possible. However, Harry left his name at the top, in hopes that miraculously Hagrid would be cured of his madness and arrive with his smile engraved upon his giant chin as he had long ago. Another name that crept along the page was an unexpected one. Draco Malfoy. Despite his heinous ways of the past, Draco was not as solid and one-sided. Several holes and nicks made him much more than just an enemy. Harry left his name toward the bottom, but had not erased it yet. There was still time to make any adjustments he needed.
As the summer days began and more visits to Hagrid proved unrewarded, Harry found himself lacking the drive he assumed he would obtain. Where was the fire that he would use to take on the new world? He was a graduate of Hogwarts! But where was the recognition? Fame and glory were unneeded because he already had that. Harry needed a position that he could call his own forever, not the fading star he was that shone in brilliance every now and then.
Knocking at the door. Harry had just taken his morning shower and was rotating into his routine of scrambling blueberry muffins and using his wand to zap some fresh chocolate cake and frosting. But it was now interrupted by an annoyance at his door, a hypnotic pounding much like the ticking of an old grandfather clock. Every beat was on cue, tap-e-tap-e-tap, until Harry snuck his nose against the keyhole. Immediately, the pounding stopped.
Sluggishly, Harry unlocked the door, and opened it toward himself. Standing in his doorway was a most strange but most welcome surprise. Two young men, tall and slender, stood staring at him. Padded against their shoulders were business suits, but they wore no shoes or hat or tie or anything else business-like. Their spiked orange hair and matching colored freckles screamed their identities clearly.
"George! Fred! What on earth are you doing standing at my doorstep?" Harry asked.
"Good morning, Harry! What had no idea you lived here!" Fred said sarcastically.
"What a coincidence!" George agreed. "And we were just going to praise about how we know the legendary Harry Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, how much do you want?"
"Us? Ask for money, from you? Ha!" Fred laughed, as did George. "We don't need any of your money. We're making quite enough of our own."
"All right then. Then, why else are you here and worshiping the very ground I stand on?"
George and Fred stared at each other and then back to Harry. "I hear that you are going to throw quite the celebration soon."
"Oh no! Are you mad that I didn't invite you two yet? Don't worry- I am inviting you! I just haven't sent out the letters yet and—"
"Harry, we knew you would invite us. That's a given. That's not why we are here." George finished Fred's sentence. "We are here to offer you a deal of a life-time. If we could have just a bit of your time."
Harry was shoved from his doorway, stumbling backwards into a coat rack and armchair. Fred and George hurried over to the dining table to the right side and laid out brochures and maps and numerous small samples of their joke materials. After several seconds of setting up, George and Fred turned around with their arms wide open as if they were presenters on some American TV game show.
"Come this way, Harry, and look at all we have to make your coming of age party the talk of the century!"
Harry walked over to his table and peered over at the piles of enchanted gags. Timeless classics such as bleeding beetles, lemon tarts (not the ones your grandmother bakes) and love arrows glistening on Harry's table, were begging to be tried, literally, some enchantment to make them whisper the word, "try me" continually.
"Oh, both of you are too generous, really," Harry said as he hovered his right hand over the goodies.
"Try some, Harry," Fred asked, jeering at a few innocent looking tootsie rolls.
"I really shouldn't… But if you two are really desperate for business, I suppose I could order a few things for my party."
"Desperate! How insulting!" George yelled.
"Why else would you be bothering me about it? Making a special door to door delivery across the country for me?"
"We thought it would be a nice gesture," Fred began, "something to show you how dedicated we are to our customers. But I guess we were wrong. Come on, George. We're not wanted here."
George and Fred gathered their things with the snap of the fingers, literally once again, and headed for the door. Harry jogged behind them, hurrying to catch up before they left. Just as Fred stepped out the door with his naked left foot, Harry tugged on their suit jackets, forcing them to turn around.
"Look, I didn't mean to insult you. I will order some your, um, wonderful practical jokes and goodies. Mark me down for three dozen muffins, at least one hundred bleeding beetles, better make that two hundred, no three, no, no, two is enough. And add in some love arrows just for fun."
Two huge grins smirked upon the boys' pale faces. "Worked like always," Fred said and nodded his head to Harry.
"Pleasure doing business with you," George added and raced toward an old beaten down car, much like their father's enchanted mobile. However, this car was painted orange and purple and across the sign was the Weasley's Twins names and logos for their joke shop.
As they putted away, Harry closed his door, this time bolting it with a few extra locks. Just as Harry was about to turn away, there was another knock. Quickly, Harry unlocked the door and swung it open, his eyes closed, and muttered,
"I already bought your stupid gags, what else do you want?"
"What gags?" a familiar voice replied.
Harry opened his eyes to see Neville, the dark haired wizard with now a fine mustache, side burns and beard, all which added to his manly appearance. His choppy hair matched his clothing selection, wearing a holy shirt from out of a dumpster perhaps but oppositely, a very fine, sharp looking pair of black pants. Neville's thick eyebrows arched as he waited for Harry's reply.
"Nevermind, I thought you were someone else."
"Righteo. Hey, why did you change the locks? My wand wouldn't open the door."
Harry sighed. "To keep out unexpected guests."
"I guess you'll tell me later I suppose."
"Oh?"
"What? Oh! I didn't tell you my good news!"
Harry laughed. "Of course you didn't. I haven't had a good conversation out of you in three days. What have you been up to in your room?"
"Well, I… First, let me tell you my news. Ahum, er, um. Okay, I'm ready. I've been accepted into the Hogwarts' Graduate Study Program! I am going to be a Professor at Hogwarts! Well, after six years of study and at three of fieldwork… But I've been accepted! That's what I've been doing all night. Calling every office in the magical world to find out if they reviewed my application. I'm in!"
Harry didn't even know Neville was considering a job as a Professor. But then again, they didn't really speak much about that. Their relationship was much more of an appreciation and respect of one another. They both knew that if one of them needed the other, they would do anything to help. And this was one of those times.
"Stop standing there and give me a hug!" Neville demanded and threw his arms open.
Harry embraced him in a brotherly sort of way. They stood there, arms clutching each other's backs and the cool wind rising against their bare skinned necks. Tears began to stroll down Harry's cheeks. Neville spotted the trickles of water and assumed they were ones of happiness. No. This was Harry's last friend, and he was leaving him. His tears were not of joy, but of grief. Harry was truly alone now. What a splendid coming of age.