Harry Potter and the Mind Mage
By James Milamber
A/N: I. Am. BACK!
Late that night, James strode the corridors of Hogwarts restlessly. He had an odd feeling that something very important was about to happen, but he had no idea what. Like a name that constantly slipped one's memory, the sensation was maddening, banishing any possibility of sleep.
And so he stalked about the massive castle, not really paying attention to where he was. He could have justified what he was doing by saying he was fulfilling his duties as a teacher by patrolling the corridors looking for students out past curfew, but after he'd passed the third couple making out and ignored them completely, his excuse was beginning to run a little thin.
Until, that is, he heard a very familiar voice coming from an empty classroom up ahead. It was only then that he realised he had somehow ended up in the dungeons.
Draco Malfoy's hushed voice sounded almost urgent, and with his curiosity peaked, James muttered an invisibility spell and crept closer to listen.
'You're my cousin!' Malfoy hissed, which gave James a good idea of who he was talking to – and raised a few questions as well. His suspicions were confirmed a second later when Isabelle's voice responded.
'Since when is family so important to you, Draco?' she asked scornfully, not bothering to keep her voice down as Malfoy had. 'Besides, I know for a fact that my name was stricken from the Black and Malfoy family lines not long after I was born. So far as I'm concerned, I have no family.'
'Think about what you're giving up,' Malfoy persisted. 'Being associated with Potter is only going to get you hurt, and loathe though I am to admit it, I don't want that to happen.'
Isabelle laughed derisively. 'It's a little late for you to come over all caring now, Malfoy,' she said. 'Besides, I've already told you that I don't think your precious "Dark Lord" has a snowball's chance in Hell of winning this war. I'm not stupid.'
Malfoy hissed softly in annoyance. 'Since when did you start using such Muggle phrases?'
'Dunno,' Isabelle said casually. 'My boyfriend must be wearing off on me.'
There was silence for a moment; James could almost feel Malfoy's glare. He felt a sudden burst of pride for the girl he was beginning to think of as a surrogate daughter.
'That…person will be your undoing,' Malfoy said eventually. 'The Dark Lord does not take defiance lightly. When the time comes, I will not be able to protect you.'
'Haven't we been over this already? I'll take my chances with Harry and Alex, thank you very much.' There was a moment silence. 'Now, if you've finished with the dramatics, I'm leaving. Don't bother having me followed, I was a Slytherin for a long time, I know all the tricks.'
The door to the classroom suddenly creaked open, and Isabelle emerged. Instinctively, even if it wasn't entirely necessary, James leaned back against the wall, enclosing himself in shadow. Isabelle brushed past him and headed down the corridor towards the exit from the dungeons. When Malfoy's platinum head came around the doorframe to watch her leave, James had to fight a very strong urge to strangle the little bugger. Instead he pushed himself away from the wall and followed the ex-Slytherin; she might be confident she could escape the dungeons without Malfoy's interference, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
The conversation had been very interesting, though: Malfoy had seemed almost genuine in his concern for his cousin. Perhaps there are some things important to him besides power, James mused as he trailed Isabelle out of the dungeons and into the welcome light of the Entrance Hall. It was something to ponder on, at any rate.
As he had hoped she would, Isabelle went straight back to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady gave her a disapproving look as she swung silently open when Isabelle whispered the password. James was about to return to his quarters when the distinctive voice of his son rang out through the open portrait hole.
'So, what did the little bastard have to say this time?'
This time? That's interesting. Still under the cover of his spell, James eased through the portrait hole just before the Fat Lady swung shut. At this late hour the common room was deserted and the fire had been allowed to burn down to embers, casting the majority of the room into shadows. Hugging the wall as closely as he could to minimise the chance of his son detecting him, James settled down to listen.
Isabelle had crossed the room to where Alex was waiting on a couch and settled down next to him. James watched with some amusement as his fingers entwined themselves through her raven hair; the thought quickly turned to pain as he remembered doing the same to Andrea's golden locks.
'He's come down with a bad case of family values all of a sudden,' she said disgustedly. 'Honestly, his lies just keep getting worse. It's so obvious what he wants.'
James, who had no clue what Malfoy wanted, hoped his son was as thick as he was. He smiled wryly when Alex asked, 'So what does he want then?'
'He needs an ally close to Harry, dum dum,' Isabelle said playfully, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.
'Oh, so I'm a dum dum now, am I?' Alex asked with one eyebrow raised.
'Absolutely,' Isabelle said with a straight face. 'You are the epitome of dum dum-ness.'
They stared at each other for a second then both started to laugh. James took that as his queue to leave, a decision reinforced when he caught a glimpse of the determined look in Isabelle's eyes as she leaned closer to Alex. By the time he got to the portrait hole, they were both too busy to notice it open a crack and then quietly shut again.
Back in the corridor, James pondered these new findings. It made sense that Malfoy would want someone close to Harry, but something told him it wasn't that simple. He resolved to keep an eye on the situation until new information came to light. Perhaps there was something there that could be used against the heir to the Malfoy family; time would tell.
The following evening found the seven Gryffindors sitting in Dumbledore's office. After the customary offering of lemon drops, the Headmaster sat back and surveyed them over the top of his half moon glasses.
'I know you all have many questions,' he began, looking at each student in turn, 'and I shall endeavour to answer as many as I can. Know, however, that there are limits to what I can tell you, even now.' His piercing gaze fell on Harry. 'You have a question, Mister Potter?'
'Yeah, I do.' There was something that had been troubling Harry for quite a while now, but he'd never thought to bring it up. 'Why haven't my Occlumency lessons started again?'
Dumbledore's beard twitched slightly as he smiled. 'An excellent question, Harry, although I'm a little surprised you didn't ask sooner. Over the summer holidays I did some research into the nature of curse scars, and although my findings were somewhat disturbing, they also shed some light onto the matter. The link you share with Voldemort, by it's very nature, makes Occlumency not only redundant, but actually moderately dangerous.'
'Dangerous?' Hermione looked startled. 'How is it dangerous, Professor?'
'Occlumency is designed to stop an external force from accessing one's mind,' Dumbledore said. 'However, the link means that Voldemort is not trying to access your thoughts and memories from outside, but rather from the inside – he's using the back door to slip by unnoticed, so to speak. The only way to stop such access is through sheer force of will, and concentrating on Occlumency could be a fatal distraction at a critical time.'
'I felt that,' Harry remembered when, after his lessons with Snape, his mind had always seemed more open than ever. 'I thought it was just Snape or something.'
'Professor Snape, Harry,' Dumbledore corrected gently. 'What you felt was a lapse in your mental power. I'd imagine you would have felt something similar when especially tired and run down?'
'I always just put it down to exhaustion, or something.'
Dumbledore nodded gravely. 'That is indeed the danger.'
'Don't worry, Professor,' Ginny said, 'I'll make sure he gets plenty of rest.' She entwined her fingers with Harry's and looked at him sternly.
'Very good, Miss Weasley,' Dumbledore said with a slight smile.
'I have a question, Professor,' Isabelle said suddenly. 'Why doesn't Professor McGonagall like me? Is it just my name?'
The Headmaster's smile vanished, and he sat back heavily. 'There is much you don't know about the faculty here at Hogwarts,' he said. 'Suffice to say that your mother was responsible for a personal tragedy in Minerva's family. She does not blame you, as such, but I believe you jog certain unpleasant memories with your presence. Perhaps that might explain it.'
'Yeah, well, I'm just glad my bitch of a mother won't be causing any more problems – ever,' Isabelle said darkly. Dumbledore looked at her steadily, but said nothing.
'Umm…Professor?' Ron nervously broke the silence. 'Have you told our mum about us being in the Order?' He indicated himself and Ginny.
Dumbledore chuckled. 'Indeed I have not informed Molly as of yet, Mister Weasley. I had thought it might sound better coming from one of you rather than me.'
'You don't know mum very well then,' Ginny muttered.
The Headmaster smiled at her. 'If you wish for me to tell Molly, then I will at the next Order meeting at Grimmauld Place. Which, of course, brings me to my next point.' Dumbledore gazed at them almost serenely. 'Every three weeks you will be required to attend a meeting here in my office, along with the other Order members at Hogwarts. Myself or Professor McGonagall will let you know in advance when each meeting will take place, understood?' Everyone nodded. 'Excellent, now I believe you had all best be off to bed before Mister Filch catches you wandering the corridors after curfew.'
The seven students stood and began to file out of the office. Isabelle hung back a bit, waiting until everyone had disappeared down the stairs before speaking directly to the Headmaster.
'Thanks, Professor. For letting me be involved,' she said, catching his eyes and nodding once. Before he could reply, the door was closing after her.
'You are very welcome, Miss Lestrange,' Dumbledore murmured. 'Very welcome indeed.'
A/N: Only a short one, but I'll have another update in the next few days. Really. I mean it. Honest!
Review Responses:
GinnyPotter4eva: You may have a point there…
LilliannaRose: Stop threatening to kill yourself, the next one won't be far off. Savvy?
Wren Truesong: One does one's best.
Whispyraven: Out of all my OC's, Isabelle is by far the most fun to write. Well, tied with James at any rate. Cassie…well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?
Dree: Bloody hell, not you again! ;) Kidding, I was actually wondering where you'd got to. I've missed your reviews.
Merusa: Plenty of James, although no powerful striding. Meh, maybe next chapter. By the by, if you love James so much, go read Sirius' Choice by Whimsical Firefly. She's a friend of mine, so I let her borrow him – you get to see James during the first Voldie war. Fun times! Besides, it's a good story.
gpotter: Stop being to bloody insightful! Grr…I have to change the whole storyline now. Cheers. ;) Just kidding. No, Malfoy is, as Alex so eloquently put it, a bastard.
Ted M. Hammett: Oh ye of little faith. The story is very much H/G, done in a very believable way. Trust me, it's worth the read.
CurlsofSerenity: I think I can take that as a compliment…
athenakitty: Wait and see; not the twins, Harry and Ginny…
CreativeQuill: Gets off her kettle? How…odd. Notice your other saying that finally found it's way into the story? HGttG rules.
siriusfanatic: The whole Harry/Ginny thing is tied into the Prophecy, that was mentioned a few times before. I'm 19, by the way.
Joshua: Come again? Amateurish and stupid? Sorry mate, but that was planned from the very start. If you don't like it, don't read it –it's not going to play that big a role anyway.
PomegranateQueen: It's novel that I'm an Aussie? Righto then, if you say so. Seeing as Australia is still technically a British colony, and my ancestry is almost exclusively British, I should hope I have a good grasp of their language. It drives me up the wall when I read a HP fic that refers to 'Elementary School' and other Americanisms. I mean, for crying out loud…
Dysfuntional Punkrocker: Skateboarding is a sport now?
ethan is a punk rocker: You have to be an American. Sorry mate, but that's how we spell things down here, and since it's American that is the bastardised version of English, it's actually you lot that spell it wrong. But whatever.
