Harry Potter and the Mind Mage
By James Milamber
A/N: (ducks numerous thrown objects) I'm sorry for the delay! I've been really busy the last few months, and I've had almost no time to write. Things are easing up now, so I'm at it again. This is a nice long one for you all – well, long by my standards, anyway.
The first week of the holidays passed quickly. There were no great emergencies, no signs of activity by Voldemort, and the school itself was near abandoned. Harry and his friends reveled in the rare silence, spending their days outside having snowball fights and their evenings before the fire in the common room, talking quietly of anything that came to mind. It seemed almost like a time of cleansing, a calm before the storm that would inevitably follow, and they were all grateful for the brief reprieve.
To Harry's immense relief, Dumbledore informed him that the Advanced Defense classes would be taken by someone else in the upcoming term, as Harry would be busy training. The Headmaster wouldn't tell them who would be taking the teaching position, but he assured Harry that he would approve. Harry had a few suspicions, but decided to wait and see before he said anything.
Christmas Eve finally arrived, with the usual hype that went along with it. James Milton quietly withdrew to his rooms as the sky darkened; he saw very little to celebrate on this of all days, and the general revelry that pervaded the rest of the castle seemed, all things considered, in very bad taste.
So he sat before the fire in his study, slouching down into his comfortable armchair, absently swirling a glass of muggle brandy in his left hand. He remained there for quite some time as evening turned to deep night, rising only occasionally to refill his glass. He probably would have stayed there, watching the fire burn ever lower, had not a rather unexpected visitor arrived.
'Now what could the all powerful James Milton, the only known Mind Mage in Britain, be doing drinking himself into a stupor on this most irritatingly cheerful of nights?'
'Snape,' James sighed, waving his hand and creating a replica of his own chair. 'Get yourself a drink and plant that bony arse down.'
'You are not in a position to be familiar with my "arse", bony or not,' Snape said waspishly, but nevertheless he complied with James' instructions, pouring himself a brandy and settling into the armchair.
'So what brings you to my humble abode, Sevvie?' James leveled his gaze at the Potion's Master, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he'd consumed the better part of a bottle of brandy in the space of a few hours.
'The Headmaster sent me,' Snape grimaced. 'He seemed to think you could use some help. Why the damned fool chose me to give it when I'd rather not have anything to do with you at all, I'll probably never know.'
'Ego boosting as always.'
'I'm not here to flatter your ego, Milton,' Snape snapped. His tone softened almost grudgingly. 'Albus told me what happened.'
'I'll have to speak with him about that,' James murmured half to himself. 'Every time I tell him something in confidence, it seems that the whole Hogwarts rumour mill has the story the next day.'
'The walls in his office have ears,' Snape agreed wryly. 'I've long suspected those thrice damned portraits are the source.'
James didn't answer, his eyes back on the dying fire in the grate. The silence began to stretch out, until he suddenly spoke.
'Why are you really here, Snape? Don't say Dumbledore sent you, because even if he did, you'd have refused if you'd wanted to.'
Snape sighed, absently tracing the rim of his glass with one long finger. 'Because, loathe as I am to say it, we need you. The only reason the Dark Lord hasn't already leveled Hogwarts is your presence here. Dumbledore he believes he could manage, but between the two of you…' He left it hanging.
'And yet he chooses to ignore the most powerful person in the castle.'
'Potter?' Snape snorted derisively. 'I hardly think he's worth the Dark Lord's consideration.'
'Don't underestimate him, Severus,' James said seriously. 'You saw what happened at the tournament, and that was only accidentally. Imagine what he'll be capable of once he learns to focus it.'
'He has borrowed power, no more,' Snape said dismissively.
'Borrowed or no, it's still his – for now, at least. He's at least a match for your precious He-of-the-Shite-Anagrams-Voldemort, and I honestly think he'll defeat him. And you know, that leaves you in a rather perilous position.'
'How so?'
'He hates you with a passion,' James said bluntly. 'You might want to think about that. When he defeats old Voldie, what do you think he's going to do? He has a very refined code of ethics, and I believe he'd feel almost obligated to lead the Wizarding world out of these dark times. He's destined for the position of Minister, mark my words.'
'Impossible,' Snape snapped. 'The people would never vote for that arrogant little child!'
'I think you need to stop seeing Harry Potter as James Potter, Snape. They are not the same, much as they look alike. Harry is neither arrogant, nor a child. He has all of James' best qualities, and none of his worst. He's intensely loyal, generous to a fault, and he has so much nobility he gives me a headache. He is far and away the best hope we have, and you'd do well to remember that.'
Snape said nothing, but his expression was set.
'Come on, Snape, I thought you were a better man than this. Granted you're a sadistic, twisted arsehole…'
'Thanks,' Snape said dryly.
'…but you can also be a decent person, when you want to be. I didn't think you were so childish to hold onto a grudge for all these years. Especially when the target of that grudge is long dead.'
Snape sighed again, downing the rest of his drink in one go. 'I'll think about it,' he said shortly.
'Do that,' James recommended, then fell silent again.
The silence stretched out once more, but it was not uncomfortable. Finally Snape spoke. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
'Not really,' James laughed bitterly. 'I'd rather go on a rampage and massacre Voldemort and every single stinking coward who follows him.'
Snape blinked.
'You didn't think I'd changed that much, did you?' James raised an eyebrow. 'Like it or not, there are still vestiges of Joseph Milter in here.' He tapped his temple.
'I'm beginning to see why the Dark Lord is so worried,' Snape commented.
'He has reason. Believe me, he has every reason. Were it not for…for…' James trailed off, and his jaw set. 'Were it not for Andrea, I would have finished this long ago.'
'I doubt it. That prophecy is very specific. If you'd attacked the Dark Lord, you would have failed and probably died in the attempt.'
'Yes, I suppose so.' James gulped down the last of his brandy and refilled his glass. 'I would have done a hell of a lot of damage before I went down, though,' he said with a slightly feral grin.
'I don't doubt it,' Snape said dryly.
James sighed, swirling his glass in his left hand and absently watching the firelight reflecting off the liquid it contained. 'I didn't want this, Snape,' he said quietly. 'All I asked for was to be left alone with my family. Lord Dickless brought this upon himself when he murdered my wife. I will stop at nothing, and I mean nothing, to get my revenge!' He slammed his free hand down on the arm of his chair.
'I can understand that,' Snape said blandly.
'Don't patronize me, Snape,' James growled. 'A year ago today, my wife was raped and murdered before my children's eyes. That's the sort of thing that's likely to put me in a very bad mood, and is likely to be hazardous to the health of any snarky bastards who are too attached to their own petty grudges to see what's right in front of their faces.'
'I wasn't patronizing you, Milton.'
'That would be a first.'
'Merely pointing out that I am fully capable of understanding the drive for revenge. I am Slytherin, after all.'
'Yes.' James drained his glass in one go, and then in a fit of irritation crushed it to powder. 'You are.'
Christmas Day dawned to find snow sifting lightly down to cover the turrets of Hogwarts in a layer of white. Watching the scene from a window in Gryffindor tower, Harry and Ginny sat snuggled together, both holding a mug of hot cocoa courtesy of Dobby.
'It looks almost surreal,' Harry said quietly, his eyes taking in the snowbound towers of the great castle.
'Like something out of a fairytale,' Ginny agreed whimsically, playing with the half melted marshmallow floating in her cocoa with one finger.
Loud footsteps resounded down the stairs leading up to the boy's dorms, and Ron and Alex burst into view, both still dressed in their pajamas and carrying an armful of presents.
'There you are, Harry!' Ron yelled joyfully, depositing a large amount of brightly wrapped parcels into the startled boy's lap. 'Come on, open up! It's Christmas!'
'Ronald Weasley, if you don't shut up I'm going to have to hex you,' Isabelle growled as she entered the common room, sandy eyed and surly as usual. Isabelle, they had all noted many times, was most definitely not a morning person. She had thrown on a green dressing gown over her nightdress, and she also carried a pile of presents, which she dumped on the rug near the fire. Cassie and Hermione followed, wearing dark and light blue dressing gowns respectively. In a sudden flash of insight, Harry realized that their choice in colours was exactly the same as the results of Dumbledore's light test. He wondered idly if it had been accidental or deliberate.
Alex dumped his presents on the floor beside Isabelle's and dropped down beside them. 'Everyone, get your butts into gear and start opening presents.'
'Who died and made you boss?' Cassie grumbled good-naturedly, slapping her twin lightly on the head as she passed him to sit on his other side.
Harry and Ginny shared a look, shrugged, and dove into their presents. The first Harry opened contained the obligatory Weasley jumper, along with some home made mince pies from Mrs Weasley. He remembered the many food hampers from the Weasley matriarch he had received over the summer holidays with a smile, and made a mental note to send her a thank-you note at some point in the not-too-distant future.
'Maroon again!' Ron said in disgust, holding the offending garment up. 'Honestly, she doesn't listen to a word I say!'
'Just be glad the twins aren't here,' Harry laughed, remembering the time Gred and Forge had forced Percy to wear his own jumper and had frog-marched him about the common room with his arms pinned to his sides and his glasses askew.
The next package contained a large amount of rock cakes courtesy of Hagrid, and a note inviting Harry to come down for a visit any time. With a guilty start, he realized he had not been down to visit Hagrid all year – with everything else going on in the castle, his giant friend had completely slipped his mind.
'Well well, what have we here?' Cassie asked with narrowed eyes, opening a parcel wrapped in a satiny black paper and removing a set of folded black robes. She unfolded them with a quick flick and held them up, and Harry immediately recognized the intricate design on the back.
'It's the same,' he mused, pulling his amulet from beneath his robes and gazing at it thoughtfully. Indeed, the design on the back of the robes was identical.
'I've got one too,' Isabelle reported. 'The card says that it's from your father.' She turned an accusing gaze on Alex.
'Why are you glaring at me?' he asked in an injured tone, holding up his own set of new robes. 'I've got no better idea than you!'
'We've all received them,' Hermione said, as she and Ron also located their black-wrapped bundles. She took her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and ran it over the material of her new robes, a thoughtful expression on her face. The tip of her wand glowed with a golden light, and she frowned slightly. 'That's odd,' she said to herself.
'We now pause reverently while Gryffindor's resident genius makes yet another dazzling pronouncement, which is doubtless going to leave us all gasping for breath on the floor, marveling at her magnificence,' Alex declaimed, bowing his head with mock reverence.
'Shut up, Alex,' Isabelle said absently. 'You were saying, Hermione?'
'I can't divine the nature of the enchantment on the robes,' Hermione said, ignoring Alex, who was now doubled over with tears of mirth streaming down his face. 'I'm not entirely sure what Professor Milton has done to them, but whatever it is, it must have taken a lot of power.'
'Please, Hermione, James will suffice.' The Professor in question rolled his eyes as he entered the common room via the Fat Lady. 'There aren't any students left here anyway, so I think we can dispense with the formalities, hmm?'
'If you want, Prof…James,' Hermione corrected herself at the last minute.
'Excellent.' James clapped his hands together, and the fire in the grate roared up, filling the room with warmth. 'I never did like Christmas in the Northern hemisphere…too bloody cold for my liking. At least Australia had Christmas in summer. Anyway,' his piercing gaze swept the group before the fire. 'I suppose you're all wondering about the robes then, yes?'
'The thought had crossed our minds,' Alex said blandly.
'Why do I get the feeling you're being devious again?' Cassie added.
'I'm doing no such thing,' James sniffed. 'Anyway, Hermione, you can set your mind at rest. There's nothing special about those robes, bar a few protective enchantments I wove into them.'
'What about this,' Harry demanded, indicating the design on the back of his robes. 'What does it mean?'
'That's one of those things you're going to have to find out for yourself, Harry,' James said seriously. 'I'm not permitted to tell you.'
'Not permitted by who?' Ron asked.
James gave a peculiar half smile. 'I'm also not permitted to tell you that.'
'Great,' Isabelle grumbled. 'The one Professor who actually told us things is keeping secrets. Wonderful.'
'Says the girl who's been turning herself into a bird in order to sneak into Dumbledore's office for the last five years,' James returned urbanely. 'Look at it as a challenge. It might even be fun finding out for yourself.'
'Only if you're Hermione,' Alex retorted. 'No offence, Hermy,' he added quickly.
'Will you stop calling me that?' Hermione snapped.
Alex thought a minute. 'No,' he said finally, 'probably not.'
'As amusing as this is,' James interceded before a fight could get underway, 'I brought a few guests along for the party. I certainly home you don't mind.'
'Mum! Dad!' Ginny sat up in astonishment as her beaming parents climbed into the common room.
'What're you doing here?' Ron demanded.
'What, can't we want to spend Christmas with our children?' Mr Weasley said defensively.
Ginny's eyes suddenly widened. 'Does that mean…'
She was cut off by a very loud crash outside the common room, and a second later Fred – or possibly George – popped his head through the open portrait hole. It was difficult to tell, as he was covered from head to foot in black soot.
'Hello all,' George – or Fred – said cheerfully, waving to the rather bemused audience. 'Be right with you, I've just got to get Fred's head unstuck.' George's head disappeared briefly, and there was a second loud bang. A moment later, the twins both entered the common room. Unlike George, Fred was not covered in soot, but in a fine green powder.
'I think we need to work on that one,' Fred commented aside to George as their mother bustled forward, muttering about foolish tricks and casting cleaning charms on both of them.
'Thanks Mum,' George said brightly.
'You just watch yourself, George Weasley,' Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at him menacingly. 'I don't want any mischief this year, understood?'
'Yes Mum,' the twins said in unison.
Another voice came from the corridor outside. 'What's all this mess out here?' A second later, Charlie appeared in the portrait hole. 'Ahh, never mind,' he said when he spotted the twins, who wore identically transparent looks of innocence. 'Bill sends his apologies, he can't make it. He got called back to Egypt on short notice.'
'Well, it wasn't unexpected, I suppose,' Mrs Weasley sighed. 'Still, at least the rest of the family is here!' She said brightly.
'I think that's our cue to leave,' James said. 'Come on you lot, Dumbledore's setting up a meal in the Great Hall.'
'Don't be ridiculous,' Mrs Weasley said as Alex, Isabelle, Cassie, Harry and Hermione made to rise. 'You're all more than welcome to stay.'
'This is all well and good,' Ron interjected, 'but you're interrupting the presents!'
'That's our ickle Ronnekins,' Fred cooed as everyone sat, 'obsessed with his presents.' George went briefly outside and returned with a medium sized sack, which, from the oddly lumpy shape, contained various parcels. This was confirmed when Fred opened the sack and began tossing presents to people.
'Be careful with those!' George scolded his twin. 'Never know what might happen with you throwing them about like that.'
'Right,' Fred nodded, and began gingerly placing each package in front of their increasingly nervous recipients.
'I pity you,' Isabelle said to Harry with a chuckle as he carefully picked up the bright orange package, turning it this way and that.
'You have one too!' George said joyfully, depositing an identical package in a startled Isabelle's lap.
'Gee, thanks,' she said dryly. 'And here I was thinking I was safe.'
'We couldn't let our favourite ex-Slytherin go without, now could we?' Fred grinned at her.
'I'm the only ex-Slytherin you know,' Isabelle pointed out.
'Yes, well, just makes the choice easier, doesn't it?' George said, handing the last two presents to Alex and Cassie.
'I think I'll open it later. Preferably from a different room,' Alex said, prudently placing the orange wrapped package as far away from himself as possible.
'Don't you trust us?' Fred and George asked, identical hurt expressions on their faces.
Alex and Cassie shared a look. 'No, we don't,' Cassie said, pushing her parcel next to her twin's with her foot.
'Wise decision,' Ginny agreed, also placing her present as far from herself as possible.
Fred sighed. 'They don't trust us, Forge,' he said mournfully.
'I know, Gred,' George laid one hand theatrically across his brow. 'Terrible, isn't it?'
There was a sudden commotion outside the common room, and every eye turned to the portrait hole. A red-haired head appeared from outside. 'Sorry I'm late,' Bill apologised. 'We got held up.'
'We?' Charlie asked, one eyebrow raised. 'I thought you said you'd been called back to Egypt?'
'I said I had work to do, I never mentioned Egypt,' Bill shook his head.
'We're just glad you could make it, dear,' Mrs Weasley smiled at him. 'But who is "we"?'
'Ahh, that.' Bill's head disappeared for a moment, and he could be heard speaking to someone outside. When he climbed through the portrait hole, he was accompanied by another – possibly the last person Harry had expected to see.
A/N: Yes, I know. Come on, it's not that bad a cliffie, you all should be able to guess who it is. If I started to write the next scene, this would never get posted. Expect the next chapter out much, much sooner – I'm aiming to have this finished before HBP comes out, so I'll be trying for a chapter a week minimum.
Also, don't waste your time pointing out that elements of the scene between Snape and James resembles something out of This Means War! by the ever brilliant Jeconais. I'll freely admit that I stole the idea from him. Sue me.
Review Responses:
Since I was so slack in updating for so long, I couldn't hope to answer everyone. Cheers to everyone who reviewed, though, you were the inspiration for me to get back into this fic!
Whimsical Firefly: You're forgetting – she was raised by her "Muggle" aunt, remember?
StellaDreams: Isabelle's hair is black, and she has dark eyes. If you do draw a scene from HPMM, would you mind sending me a copy? I'd love to see it.
MioNeGr1000: You'd be surprised how many people have asked me that question. I'm male, for the record, and proud of it.
slycat-blaze11: (double checks the number of words and pages of HPMM) Good grief, you read all that in one day? I'm impressed.
SirusLivesOn: Cheers! I always get annoyed at fics with no decent OC's – every HP book so far has introduced at least a few new characters, so I tried to follow the same formula. You have Lupin in PoA, for example, Moody in GoF, Tonks in OotP…you get the idea. If someone can't make up a decent OC, they shouldn't be writing fanfiction. It's all a part of the job.
Mandrakedm: Why, thankee! Making Harry a Mind Mage would be rather pointless, as he has that power and more at his disposal through his Familiar – if, of course, he ever learns to control the blasted thing. The relationship between the Weasley twins and Milton twins is explored in a companion fic I'm currently working on, which should be posted soon…I hope. As for Vegemite…(mutters about Americans who have no taste) :p
iamari: Matthew Hayden is an Aussie cricket player. I needed a name, and had just finished watching the Australia/Pakistan One Day series, so…
tadah: I have no idea how long…every time I think I know, my blasted Muses spring another plot ferret on me…--'
Evansk: The move is very simply explained, really. My girlfriend is a Perthite. 'Nuff said.
MorphManiac: I doubt Hayden Snr would have disowned his son just because he got Sorted into Gryffindor – it means he's brave, not necessarily good.
bethypoobookworm: Hardly. We're not called the Great Summer Land for nothing. Most of Australia is either comfortably warm or bloody hot – I just happened to live in Melbourne. Think Seattle.
Jenni: Another one hooked…my work here is done. ;)
peanutbutterjunkie: All these old readers coming out of the woodwork…thanks for sticking with me so long!
Finbar: Lol, no arguments here. Perth is like a big country town – and they have the oddest laws. Give me the East Coast any day of the week – although you couldn't pay me enough to live in Sydney. Grey concrete everywhere…reminds me of LA. Yech. Melbourne, thanks.
Cynthia15: One of those guesses was very, very close…I'll leave it up to you to figure out which one. :p
Mistress-Genari: Don't you poke me…I just couldn't resist. ;)
RinnaMarie: Sass…I like that term. I totally agree – even Hermione isn't really a very strong character in canon, and I went out of my way to correct that oversight. Isabelle is really not one who would play second fiddle to ANYONE, even Harry Potter.
dress-without-sleeves: SPLEENS? Good grief Molly, you just keep getting weirder.
Merusa: "Witty banter" implies that there were two witty people involved…:p As to what James is up to…he's ALWAYS up to something interesting. You'll see.
