Hermione eyed the steam coming off of her potion, checking that it was forming the swirling pattern that had been described in the book. She breathed out to steady herself and checked the recipe to be sure she was ready for the next few steps. Everything looked to be in order.
Potions lessons were, aside from her Defence course, perhaps the most unusual of all her classes. Professor Slughorn would spend the time when she was brewing marking essays, though his occasional comment made it clear that he was also keeping an eye on her progress. That was all fine and normal. The oddity came from the fact that there was always a snack set out for her on her workbench. Even more odd was the fact that her teacher had offered her a glass of wine recently. Alcohol during a lesson? For once, Hermione had been left completely speechless.
Professor Slughorn hadn't made that offer again and instead had a flagon of pumpkin juice stood at the ready for her whenever she came to visit. It was a treatment that worried Hermione. She might have felt closer to her teachers than her classmates at primary school, but this was a level of congeniality Hermione had never encountered before.
She blew a strand of curly hair out of her eyes, cursing the way the steam made her hair even more unmanageable than usual. Turning her mind back to the task at hand she finished the potion and filled a small vial with a sample that she handed into her teacher who was looking eager to mark her work.
"Very good, Miss Granger, very good," the corpulent professor chortled as he held her vial up to the light. "Yes, full marks I should say."
"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, pride at having mastered this task forcing aside her frustration at the fact that her hair would still not lay down.
Professor Slughorn just beamed at her. "You know, Miss Granger, I was recently discussing your academic prowess with the person who first told me of you."
"Really?" Hermione's voice sounded like it might have come out as more of a squeak to her ears. I don't think I like the sound of this.
"Oh, not to worry, m'dear, not to worry," Professor Slughorn said with a smile and wave of his hand that appeared meant to dismiss all her cares. "Why, young Harry told me over the summer that you have been the cleverest student at Hogwarts for the past five years and only last week pointed out that I would have known that by now even if he hadn't told me. I'm sure that his teaching you has only cemented that opinion."
Harry? Harry Potter? He… he said something like that? Hermione was reminded of their meeting with Professor McGonagall a few weeks earlier when Potter had called her a brilliant student without even a hint of a lie. That had already been quite the revelation, but here was a teacher claiming that Harry had apparently held that opinion even before he'd begun teaching her.
Professor Slughorn carried on, seemingly unaware of the storm he'd unleashed inside of his student. "You know, Miss Granger, I occasionally organise a small gathering. Just a moment amid the hustle and bustle of the school year for those of us who enjoy such things to share ideas and perhaps a drink and an hors d'oeuvre. Would you be interested in attending some time? I'm sure you could ask Harry about them during your next lesson with him."
Hermione knew about the Professor's parties. Or rather, she'd heard her roommates gossiping about them. While Lavender and Parvati tended to focus on who went with whom, even they seemed to understand that the Potions Master would invite notables from all over the wizarding world. This is a really unique opportunity.
"I-… I think I'd like that, sir."
"Marvellous!" Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together excitedly. "I'll be sure to let you know the next time we plan something fun. And you needn't worry about not knowing anyone there yet, m'dear. We're a friendly lot and Harry and I should be able to get you settled in in no time at all."
Hermione left the Potions Lab and walked back up to Gryffindor Tower in something of a daze. She tried to imagine what Professor Slughorn's party would be like, what kind of experts she might meet. She imagined talking about the cutting edge of magical research, even if she wasn't exactly sure what that might be. It would be fascinating, regardless.
Her mind filled with indistinct faces swirling around her, asking her opinion on this theory or that conjecture. Getting dressed for bed rather thoroughly derailed that train of thought as Hermione came to a conundrum she had never anticipated facing: what should I wear?
It was a question that had no right to take up as much of her attention as it did, but Hermione was painfully aware that she didn't own any wizarding wear aside from her school uniform. If I show up dressed like a child, I'll get treated like a child. I have to figure this out. I refuse to have this opportunity derailed by something as inane as fashion!
Remembering what Professor Slughorn had said, Hermione resolved that she would speak to Potter about what constituted expected dress at one of these 'get-togethers'. He was sure to know… she hoped.
Hermione spent the next few days wishing, as she found herself doing with increasing frequency recently, that she had more than two Defence classes per week. Usually it was because Potter's teaching style was so unorthodox that bringing it up with her other teachers tended to result in them teaching her something outside the curriculum that they'd just thought of. This time it was for what she considered less noble reasons.
She also hoped that she wouldn't make him change his mind about teaching her if she came to him with a question like this. Her exam a few days ago had drawn approving comments from both Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. Hermione and Potter had even been awarded House Points for their hard work. Hermione didn't want to think about what the two professors might say if she showed up to her next exam, which had already been scheduled for just before the Christmas hols, only to tell them that she had so offended her teacher that she had been expelled from the course.
When her Wednesday evening class finally rolled around she did something she hadn't done since the first session when she hadn't known where she was supposed to go: she walked up to Potter while he was still sitting in the common room. "Um, Potter? Would you mind starting a little early today?" she asked, feeling awkward. "I have some questions that are, well, not really Defence related and I was hoping to ask them without cutting into our study time.
Potter looked at her, swung his eyes around the common room before landing on her again and nodded. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that he had chosen not to ask the entirely reasonable question of why they couldn't talk in the common room. Asking for fashion advice was just not something she was keen on doing where more people than absolutely necessary might overhear.
Potter collected his things and, together, they made their way over to the Room of Requirements, giving Ron a wave as they stepped through the portrait hole. When they got to the Room, Hermione discovered that their usual classroom had been augmented with a pair of comfy looking chairs. Deciding to take this cue from Hogwarts' most magical room, she gingerly lowered herself into one of the chairs.
Potter took the chair across from her and spoke for the first time since she'd approached him. "Is something wrong, Hermione?"
"No!" Realising that might have been a bit abrupt Hermione took a breath to steady herself and tried again. "I mean, it's nothing serious."
"Alright," Potter said carefully, his eyes weighing her as he spoke. "What did you want to ask me?"
For a brief moment Hermione was almost distracted by wondering if Potter had learned that look from their Headmaster. The rumours said that Potter was taking personal classes from Professor Dumbledore after all. Refocusing herself, Hermione tried to find a way to phrase the question that wouldn't make her sound like an airhead. "Well, um, a few days ago Professor Slughorn asked if I'd like to attend one of his parties."
Potter just nodded and stayed quiet.
"I- I was just wondering if there was a dress-code. Would it be inappropriate to wear muggle clothing? Or maybe my school robes?"
For just a few seconds Potter looked like she'd slapped him with a trout. "Okay," he said slowly. Hermione thought that he was just saying something to buy himself some time to think. "Most of the people there wear wizarding clothes," he admitted. "I bought some robes myself after I was invited to the first one."
Hermione felt a sinking in her stomach. "I knew it."
"Hey, it'll be alright," Potter said in a transparent attempt to cheer her up.
"No. No, it won't," Hermione said, trying desperately to keep her voice under control. "This is a major opportunity and I'm going to blow it because I never read one of those stupid fashion mags."
"It's an opportunity that you got because you don't read those mags," Potter countered with an eyebrow cocked in challenge. "Besides, the next party isn't for another three weeks and that's a Hogsmeade weekend. We can just cancel our Saturday class that day so that you can go out and buy yourself a set of robes."
Hermione noticed that her mouth was hanging open and forced herself to close it and assume a more dignified posture. "But… I don't have magical money and I don't know if my parents will be able to get into Diagon Alley to make an exchange for more without a witch or wizard along."
"They won't," Potter agreed. "I can make a withdrawal at the Post Office though. I can lend you some galleons." Something about the way he said it made Hermione think that he would really like to stop talking about this topic now.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, worried that this might somehow affect her classes.
"Yeah, it's no problem," Potter said nodding and waving his hand as if he could dispel the tension in the air between them by physically moving it away. "Just pay me back whenever."
"Thank you, Potter. Truly."
"I told you it's fine," he said, taking a deep breath. "Do- do you have any other questions?"
"Not about this, just Defence," Hermione assured him, feeling just a tendril of embarrassed amusement that he seemed just as uncomfortable with this topic as she was.
"Oh good!" Potter just about gasped in relief.
Hermione felt her lips quirk up in a smile and immediately tried to wipe the expression off her face. She got up from her chair, which disappeared as soon as she was no longer touching it, and took her place at her desk. She set out her writing materials and looked over at her teacher. "You said that we were going to start working on shields today?"
:-:-:-:-:
That Friday, a nervous Harry Potter made his way up to Dumbledore's office. He couldn't believe he had been so foolish as to offer Hermione that he would go down to Hogsmeade with her and loan her money. It wasn't the loan that had him doubting himself so much as the promise he had made to Dumbledore over the summer. He knew that he had said that he wouldn't leave the castle until he could hold off the Headmaster's legillimency for a full ten minutes. He knew why that was important with all the knowledge he had swimming in his head. He also knew that he hadn't managed more than six minutes in any of their sessions so far and had just given himself a deadline.
Remember the horntail, Harry thought to himself. You work better under pressure. Unless you want to absolutely ruin any chance of Hermione coming to see you as a friend, you'd better put your nose to the grindstone and figure this out.
Not that Harry had a lot of nose left with everything he was doing. Why did I have to offer her something that I can't actually give her? He knew why. Seeing Hermione so desperately worried about something when she was so strong and self-assured in his memories had moved his lips before his thoughts could catch up. He had just wanted her to feel like she was a little more in control of at least some of her life. That might be the only common ground we have left aside from our lessons: we both know what it's like to feel like you have no say over your own life, to feel completely out of control.
Seeing the gargoyle come into view he shook himself. Stop being a moody git, Potter. You know that being caught up in yourself just makes it harder to find that calm balance he keeps talking about. Deciding that it was better to walk in late than flustered, Harry took a few moments before giving the password to run through a breathing exercise. Feeling a bit more in control of himself, he eyed the statue in front of him. "Fruit Pastilles," he said as confidently as he could.
The gargoyle obligingly jumped aside, but was otherwise as unresponsive as ever. Harry decided that looking for validation from the masonry was probably not a good sign anyway and stepped onto the rotating staircase that led up to Dumbledore's office. At the top he didn't bother to knock, but just cocked an eyebrow at the door.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore called out from within the office.
Harry stepped inside and saw that Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, fiddling with one of the silver instruments that usually stood on one of the shelves. "New hobby?" Harry asked as he sat down.
"Not entirely," Dumbledore sighed, pushing the thing to the side with a slight frown. "It's a Tetragrammatic Dowser, an artefact built to aid in divination that is supposed to enable one to find what one searches for. I was attempting to discern whether it might be possible to attune it to the objects we seek as an alternative strategy, but alas, to my great consternation I have never had a mind for mechanics."
"But you still think you have a chance of succeeding," Harry tried.
"Not really, but when it comes to a matter this significant I should despair of putting all our eggs in one basket. I am somewhat doubtful that you are about to tell me that Horace has chosen to confide his every secret in you?"
"I-… no," Harry admitted, feeling a bit guilty at his lack of progress.
"I suspected as much. I understand that haste is not preferable in such a delicate operation, but I can only ask that you set the whole of your considerable ingenuity to this task."
"I'm trying, sir, but-… No. I'll figure something out; one way or another."
"I do not doubt that you will. In the meantime, I shall continue to tinker with this confounded contraption in the hopes that chance might align it to our designs. However, that is not why you have come here tonight. Time marches on, as it must, and we are but beggars hoping for its crumbs. Shall we begin?"
"Please." Harry was unsurprised to feel the touch of a foreign mind on his own before he had finished speaking. Dumbledore had made the point quite early on that Riddle wasn't going to give Harry a warning before attacking his mind and, after making sure that Harry had mastered some basic exercises, Dumbledore had tried to be unpredictable in his attacks as well.
Harry began by doing his best to deflect the initial probes, letting them skate off of slightly off-colour jokes. As Dumbledore began to push more seriously, drawing out actual memories, Harry shifted focus to a game of association where he would try to use some banal part of a memory to direct the seeker to the next thought. The example Dumbledore had given when explaining it was taking the concept 'mirror' when someone was looking for the Mirror of Erised and leading them to a memory of brushing his teeth in front of a bathroom mirror or watching his own reflection in a storm-dark window.
In a little more than five minutes though, Dumbledore and Harry were reliving the destruction of the necklace. Harry felt the touch of the other mind leave him and his body slumping in the chair.
"Not a bad effort, Harry, but not good enough."
Harry grunted wordlessly and heaved himself upright. "Again."
Dumbledore cocked a bushy eyebrow, but inclined his head. Four more times they went through the same exercise until Harry could feel an ache between his shoulder blades from how he tensed up every time. Worth it he thought grimly. That last attack had lasted seven minutes and twenty-two seconds. I'm getting closer. Maybe lasting ten minutes won't be impossible next week.
As he usually did at the end of one of their sessions, Dumbledore had an elf serve them each a cup of hot cocoa. Harry suspected that the drink might have some kind of curative potion in it as it always left him feeling warmer and more relaxed than he felt even chocolate should rightly be able to. For now he had decided not to ask as whether or not the drink actually did contain something unknown or not, it certainly helped him unwind and he never slept better than after an occlumency lesson.
As often as not, the ritual of drinking their hot chocolate passed in silence. This was not such a day. "I have to say, Harry, you felt unusually driven in our work today. Did something perhaps happen during the week to inspire this in you?"
That was an unfortunate downside to having your teacher in your head. "I- I may have done something I shouldn't have," Harry admitted, knowing that Dumbledore had probably already seen the contours of what it was.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I told Hermione I'd go with her to Hogsmeade. She needs some help preparing for her first Slug Club event."
"Very chivalrous of you, Harry," Dumbledore nodded.
"You're not angry with me?"
"As you said yourself: it was foolish and it is done. I take it your fervour tonight was a result of wanting to reach the milestone we agreed on as a condition for you being allowed to leave the castle?"
"Yes, sir."
"And if you don't?"
"I'm not sure, sir. I haven't worked that out yet."
Dumbledore sat back and stroked his beard while he thought. "It might be wise, Harry, to consider that. Even if your only alternative strategy is to provide Miss Granger with an apology."
"I know, sir." The two wizards lapsed back into silence. When he had finished his drink, Harry stood up. "I think it's time I head back, sir. I have to make sure that the team at least tries to get to bed before our match tomorrow."
"Indeed. Best of luck, Harry."
"Thank you, sir."
:-:-:-:-:
Gryffindor managed a relatively easy win over Slytherin during their match and Harry decided that he might possibly be getting paranoid as worry consumed him that the whole Slytherin team had seemed off their game. "I'm just saying: it's more than a little odd," he told Ron at the victory party.
"Harry, mate, don't take this the wrong way, but if you keep worrying about the snakes not playing as well as we did, I'm dragging you off to see Madam Pomfrey."
"Fine, fine. If it turns out that they're up to something, I'm never letting you hear the end of it, understand?"
"Sure. Sure," Ron said in a tone that was trying to be soothing, despite its audible grin, as he slung an arm over Harry's shoulder. "Now stop being a moody prick and celebrate properly already."
Someone shoved a Butterbeer into Harry's hand and he clinked it against the bottle Ron was holding. While that niggling worry wasn't gone he determined to do what he could to keep it off his face. I'll just have to keep an eye out. One more thing to add to the list.
Harry was fully aware that there was no more room on his 'list' and hadn't been for a while now. Maybe Ron's right and all this training and keeping secrets is making me see things.
As he moved through the castle over the next week, Harry kept studying the Slytherins. Many of them acted no differently than they normally would, but the feeling wouldn't leave him. At the same time, he still had his schoolwork, Hermione's lessons, occlumency practice and training in the Room of Requirements.
When he arrived at Dumbledore's office that Friday, he discovered that the Headmaster wanted to start their session with a conversation. "Harry, I hope that you will be honest with me. Have you had a vision?"
"A vision?" Harry asked, flabbergasted. "No. Why? Has Riddle done something?"
"No, my boy, no. I think you know that I wouldn't want you to try and gain information from him in such a manner. That would be far too dangerous. I was merely concerned because you are looking more tired than usual. I had thought that you might be losing sleep to a source that has deprived you of your rest before."
"Oh. Well, I haven't been having any visions lately, sir."
Silence grew between the two wizards. Harry was desperately hoping that Dumbledore would move on and leave the matter be, but the old man just sat there looking like he was perfectly willing to wait until the sun came up again. Harry started shifting his weight from one buttock to the other, hoping to bleed off some of his nerves without letting on that he was fidgeting. Dumbledore didn't so much as twitch a single solitary whisker.
"Fine," Harry gusted out, giving up, if only to bring an end to the awkward moment. "I feel-… overwhelmed, I suppose."
"You are facing a considerable burden," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Perhaps if you share your cares, I might be able to help in the search for a solution. If nothing else you might find their hold on you lessened for being spoken aloud."
"I'm fine, sir."
"No, my dear boy, I rather fear you are not. Is it the weight of what you discovered over the summer? Or something more?"
Harry wanted to continue denying it, but couldn't. Dumbledore sat there, patiently listening as everything came pouring out of Harry. All his frustration and worry, his sense of alienation and loneliness, everything except his lost friendship with Hermione; Harry wouldn't make that mistake again.
At the end of it all, Dumbledore studied Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles for a moment. "I am afraid, Harry, that what you are experiencing is something that invariably troubles many us who, and pardon my lack of humility, are more powerful than our fellows. You feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and cannot find anyone around you who might help you carry your burden. It was similar for me when Grindelwald was rising in power."
"What did you do about it?" Harry asked, hoping that the Headmaster had a solution for him.
"I focused on my enjoyment of simple things. Many believe my fondness for muggle candies to be eccentricity or madness, depending on how charitable they are feeling at the time. The truth is, it is one of the few uncomplicated pleasures left to me. It is one of the few things in my life that I can indulge in without having to worry about the enemies that face us or the desperation with which Cornelius floos my office while also doing his best to hamstring my every attempt to aid him. I know that it seems trivial advice, but it is what helped me: find your little joys, Harry, and one day the greater will return."
"You're still eating candies," Harry pointed out.
"Ah, but the return of greater joys is no reason to neglect the smaller," Dumbledore said with a smile.
"I guess I could give it a try," Harry allowed, thinking to himself that with his already overfull schedule, there wasn't going to be a lot of room to find 'little joys'.
"You will try, but you worry that you will be neglecting another duty?"
"More like several," Harry admitted. "The days are flying by so fast and there is so much I still have to do. I- I just don't know, sir. Sometimes it feels like the two of us aren't going to be enough."
"That will depend on what goal you hope that we will be enough for," Dumbledore said, leaning back against his chair. "The truth is, Harry, there is always something more we feel we should be doing. With unlimited time and resources, all we wish to accomplish might be within our grasp. However the world is not so kind. It is limited and, within those limitations we must make choices. An old friend once told me: the essence of strategy is deciding what not to do."
"All of it seems important though. How can I choose any one of them to 'not do'?"
"That, Harry, is the burden of being an adult, and it knows no perfect answer. I had wished to spare you that for a few more years, but alas, Fate laughs at nothing so much as the plans of mortals."
"That's it? Don't you have anything more?" Harry asked, hoping against hope that he wasn't coming off as petulant or desperate.
Dumbledore, just fixed him with a sad look. "I can only offer my own habits: work to understand which goals are within your control and which are not. Then choose which actions will most affect the realisation of such goals as are within your sphere of influence. If you still find yourself overburdened, choose which goal means least to you and abandon it. I feel that I must add this, given how worn you are already, but you will also have devote some efforts to keeping yourself well, Harry. If you become incapacitated, you will achieve none of what you wish for. I believe that, for example, your tuition of Miss Granger has become something you experience as cathartic, has it not?"
"I thought that was one of the first things you'd want me to give up?"
Dumbledore hummed into his beard. "While I admit that I am looking for a replacement for you, I cannot deny that it has become nothing short of impossible to find anyone to teach that subject in any capacity. I trust that you remember the reason the Ministry was able to foist the delightful Miss Umbridge on us last year?"
"And Snape's probably too busy playing around in his mask."
"Professor Snape, Harry, and it is less than gracious to mock his sacrifice."
Harry remained mulishly silent.
Dumbledore frowned slightly, looking disappointed in his pupil. "Regardless, catharsis may be a worthwhile pursuit. I think, rather, that worrying over a prank when you are so constantly on guard might be too great a strain."
"You think it's just a prank?"
"Do you see a use in thinking it is something else? Will it move you to actions you are not yet taking? And would those actions be sufficiently important to supplant the ones you are already taking?"
Harry had to admit that the Headmaster had a point there. There is no way for me to know why the Slytherins are acting oddly and I'm already doing everything I can to prepare for a worst case eventuality. "Alright, sir. You're right that I can't do anything I'm not already doing."
"Indeed. We will end our lesson here for now. I believe that you will be better served by spending some time working to order your wants and actions. An uncluttered mind is paradoxically more difficult to navigate for an intruder."
"I- alright, sir," Harry agreed. On the one hand he had hoped for another chance to reach those elusive ten minutes, but even he could feel that his mind was in turmoil. Maybe taking some time is the right move here? I still have next week. I'll just have to make that really count.
Over the course of the next week Harry tried to work out his goals in some definite order. Ignoring whatever the Slytherins were up to for now had left him feeling at least in control of his busy schedule. That in turn had left him unwilling to sacrifice any other aspect. He was shocked that, when trying to decide what he would give up if he absolutely had to, Quidditch might be the choice.
Still, having identified something he might give up had brought him a sense of peace. It was as if merely knowing that he had a release valve had already bled off some pressure. Besides, the team won it all last year when Fred, George and I got booted off. They'd probably be able to make it work again without me. The thought was painful, a bit like a sore muscle. Harry felt like it might signify some kind of growth; at least, he hoped it might.
The end result of all this soul searching was a very focused Harry Potter showing up at Dumbledore's office the Friday before the Hogsmeade weekend. He marched up the spiralling stairs and knocked on the door.
"Come in, Harry."
As soon as he stepped through the door, Harry felt the touch of another mind on his own and began throwing it off. He grasped for any misdirection he could and led Dumbledore through as many innocuous, irrelevant memories as he could.
Eventually, he couldn't prevent the memory of destroying the ring in the Gaunt Shack from surfacing and the connection was broken.
"Eight minutes, forty-three seconds," Dumbledore said calmly.
"Again," Harry growled out through gritted teeth, immediately feeling the assault renew. They went through the exercise five more times, never once stopping for more small talk than a check of the amount of time Harry had managed to last.
"Last one, Harry," Dumbledore warned him.
"I can keep going."
"Not without risking damage to your mind that would only serve to set you back. This will be our last attempt tonight."
"Fine." Harry responded to the assault with a creativity born of desperation. He showed Dumbledore classes from muggle primary school, a television show that he'd watched through a crack in his cupboard, Aunt Petunia's complete collection of Wedgewood china as it was being dusted, anything he could to keep the man away from one of the memories they had agreed Riddle must never see. The run ended as each of its predecessors had, with Dumbledore eventually managing to break through the maze and find Kreacher offering them the necklace.
"How long was that?" Harry gasped out, cataloguing the sweat that was streaming down his back and the near cramp he could feel in his forearms from how hard he had been clenching his hands.
Dumbledore checked his watch. "Nine minutes and forty-eight seconds."
Harry felt his heart sink into his shoes. Twelve seconds… I missed it by twelve seconds. "I- I see. I guess I have to go have an uncomfortable conversation then, sir."
Dumbledore cleared his throat as Harry turned to leave. "Actually, my boy, I don't think that will be necessary."
"Sir?"
"I release you from your vow. I will approve any expeditions into Hogsmeade from now on, provided that you keep this appointment in the future and work as hard as you ever have to improve your defences."
"But- but I thought-"
Dumbledore's beard twitched into a smile. "The ten minute mark was chosen a bit arbitrarily, I confess. It is unfortunate, but asking someone to train until they can guard their mind for a 'sufficient' amount of time is so vague as to guarantee an argument later on. Those twelve seconds, under the unrealistic condition of an assailant who already knows the exact memory he seeks, are not such a significant difference that I would bar you from forging a new friendship."
Harry was having a hard time working his way through the shock. "Sir, I- thank you. Thank you so much."
"Of course, my boy, of course," Dumbledore chortled. "Now, how about a cup of cocoa before you head off to more fetching company?"
Harry grinned as a pair of mugs appeared on the table between them. "Alright, sir." That night, Harry went to bed feeling elated. He was worried that he wouldn't get any sleep, but as soon as he was wrapped up in his sheets, he drifted off.
:-:-:-:-:
Harry woke up with a strange feeling. Today's going to be unusual... why was that again?
The answer hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was the day he had agreed to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione and lend her some galleons so that she could buy wizarding wear for Slughorn's party. He wasn't sure whether she expected him to come with her after that. He wasn't all that sure that he should offer.
From what he'd seen of her for the past week, Hermione was growing increasingly nervous about this day, which didn't actually help in resolving his doubts. Of course there were a lot of reasons Hermione might be anxious; she'd even shared a few. She wanted to make a good impression at the party. She wasn't used to thinking about fashion, especially not wizarding fashion. With the expedition she had planned for today, in addition to the past two weekends hosting the Gryffindor-Slytherin and Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw Quidditch matches, she was worried that she was going to fall behind in Defence since this would be the third four-hour session in a row that wouldn't take place.
Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Harry swung his feet out of his bed and immediately cursed himself for putting his slippers somewhere that wasn't where his bare feet landed on the cold flagstones. Muttering to himself he shuffled into the showers to wash away the last hold sleep had on him.
Once he was dressed and ready for the day, Harry headed down to the common room. He contemplated waiting for Hermione to show up, but decided that he would only be making things awkward for her. With nearly three months in the castle, Harry didn't doubt that Hermione knew what it usually meant for two students to go to Hogsmeade together. His relationship with her was precarious enough that he didn't want to unbalance it with a silly misunderstanding.
Mind made up, Harry headed down to the Great Hall and served himself some breakfast. The tables were largely empty this early in the morning, and he reminded himself to enjoy such a private meal while he could. There may be something to this 'small joys' thing after all Harry thought to himself as he munched on an egg and bacon sandwich.
It saddened him a little that when Hermione and Ron came down, they chose not to sit with him, but he reminded himself that regaining Hermione's friendship would take more time than a few weeks and that it might never be what it used to. Who knows, that fae magic may actually be working against me. I need to stay calm and make the most of what I have.
Harry refilled his cup. He waited for Ron and Hermione to get up from the table before doing the same and joining them. "Hey, Hermione. Ready to go?"
"Harry? You're coming with?" Ron asked in surprise. The words had barely left his mouth when the redhead cringed. "Sorry. That didn't come out the way it was supposed to."
"No problem," Harry told his mate with a smile. "I promised to help Hermione get some preparation in for Slughorn's party tonight." He very carefully avoided mentioning what kind of preparation. The idea of Hermione clothes shopping just seemed incredibly strange to him for some reason.
"It's just some advice, Ron," Hermione said quickly, making Harry think that she didn't particularly want to share exactly what she was up to either.
"Should I help?"
"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "Um, I mean, you made a promise of your own, didn't you? I thought you were going to be patrolling with Lavender?"
"Well, that is true," Ron allowed with a slight smile.
"Something you want to share?" Harry asked with a grin.
"No, now keep your nose out of it," Ron retorted with a similar grin.
"Alright. See if you can find some time to drop by the Broomsticks once you and Lavender are done patrolling."
"We'll see," Ron allowed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my partner."
Harry waited until his mate was out of earshot before turning back to Hermione. "You serious about that advice?"
She actually smiled at him. "No. I saw your expression when we spoke before our lesson. I wouldn't do that to you."
"I'm in your debt, fair lady," Harry teased. "So? Are we ready to go?"
"Definitely. I want this over with so I can focus on tonight."
"Fair enough."
The two shared a carriage down to Hogsmeade and, once there, Harry led the way to the Post office and withdrew twenty-five galleons. "Will this be enough?"
"M-more than enough," Hermione answered, her eyes larger than usual. "I'm not looking to buy anything too expensive."
"Better safe than sorry," Harry shrugged. "Why don't you stop by the Broomsticks after you're done? You might get a chance to tease Ron about his rounds with Lavender."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys," she muttered. "I'd rather head back up to the castle. I think I need some time to myself before I face the notables of the wizarding world."
"Alright," Harry agreed, trying not to let his disappointment show. "I'll see you at the party then. Good luck." He forced himself to walk away before the situation could get too awkward.
The disappointment lingered though and Harry soon found himself walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, away from the boisterous student body. Damn it, maybe I shouldn't have pushed. It just- it almost felt like it used to. He looked into the Forest, knowing that somewhere in amongst those trees was the clearing where he had bargained away the friendship he now wanted back more than anything in the world. Bloody fae.
Muttering sour imprecations under his breath Harry continued his walk until he got to a point where he was in danger of losing sight of the last house in the village. Sure, be an idiot again why don't you, he thought to himself. Isolating yourself when there's a madman who'd really appreciate your death, are you trying to lose this war?
He turned around and forced himself to march back towards Hogsmeade. Nothing's going right today. Harry had just made it back among the houses of the village when the sound of an explosion rocked the morning air. Cursing under his breath, Harry ripped his wand out of his pocket and broke into a sprint in the direction of the disturbance. He skidded to a halt at the mouth of a side-alley between Honeydukes and Maestro's Music Shop to see that the Death Eaters had come calling.
He could only see about half a dozen men and women in black robes and white masks, but the way they were gleefully throwing lethal curses made Harry grateful that there weren't more of them. As he tried to take in the tactical situation, his mind kept throwing up phrases from the Codex Eichstätt.
Thinking during a fight will get you killed. Not thinking before you jump into a fight will get you killed faster.
War is a thing of pretence: therefore when capable of action, we pretend disability; when near to the enemy, we pretend to be far; when far away, we pretend to be near.
The ground where you fight is also a combatant; make it your ally so that it does not fight you alongside your enemy.
Harry took a moment to assess where he would be able to move, whether there was anything he could use as a weapon and whether there was anyone around who looked like they might help. It was a lot more difficult than the Codex had made it seem. The world around him was too bright and too loud. The screams of people as curses hit seemed to demand that he take action now, even if he knew that he needed a plan before he moved.
Using the techniques he had learned in his occlumency lessons with Dumbledore, Harry forced the panic down to a dull roar and brought up his wand. He aimed at a large wooden beam in an alley across from him and muttered a spell. Moments later it had transformed into a replica of himself. He wasn't good enough with the spell to animate the replica yet, but he hoped the likeness would be convincing enough to distract the enemy for at least a moment.
He repeated the trick with chunk of crumbled wall that lay just at another corner, hoping that the dust of collapsing buildings would obscure what he was doing until he was done. Taking a deep breath and holding it, Harry moved his wand through a complicated pattern he'd found in Transfiguring for Trouble and Animating for Adversaries. He might not be good enough animate simulacra yet, but this spell was a lot easier for him.
When the tip of his wand began to glow, Harry held it in front of his mouth, whispered "awel awen" and blew across it. As his breath passed over the wand it turned into a gale, sweeping up the dust in front of it and creating a veritable tornado in the street. Keeping up a steady exhale, Harry guided the storm to swallow the Death Eaters. He heard them crying out as the sand scoured any bit of skin it could reach.
When he couldn't push out any more breath, the spell faltered and Harry was left gasping for air. In the street he could see that several of the Death Eaters were ripping off their masks and rubbing at their eyes. He felt a grim satisfaction that his first attack had gotten as much of a result as it had. Aiming again, he focused on the Death Eater closest to the alley where he had transfigured his first simulacrum. "Expelliarmus. Ddrysfa dillad."
The Death Eater's wand flew away from her and her robes surged around her diving over themselves and tying into knots. With a yelp she fell over as her legs got tangled. Harry almost grinned as he saw the way she was jerking in an effort to pull free, knowing that it would only tighten her robes' grip. He didn't have time to enjoy the show though as there were five more enemies to take care of.
Fortunately, their comrade's predicament had distracted the group and two of them had turned to look at her, their wands still aimed distractedly away from them. Harry picked out the one closest to her, aimed for the bloke's wand and muttered "elido". The wand exploded in the Death Eater's hand studding it with splinters and filling the air with his howls.
"Someone's playing hero! Find them!" the other Death Eater who had looked at the downed woman screamed.
"There! By the corner! It's Potter! He did come out!"
Harry watched a barrage of four spells rush for his second simulacrum and took the chance to launch another attack. "Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Stupefy. Incarcerous." Harry's own flurry of spells took down two of the squinters.
"That's not him! He's closer!" the Death Eater who had just found himself wrapped in ropes yelled.
"He's in one of the alleys! Spread out and get him!" the wizard who had ordered the earlier attack cried, rushing for the alley across from Harry. The last mask-less Death Eater, a witch with curling red hair that was just starting to go grey, came stumbling in Harry's direction. Her wand was aimed slightly away from Harry and he could see that her eyes were irritated and swollen.
He didn't waste any time with her. "Stupefy." He sent the same spell at the still struggling Death Eater he'd caught in his Incarcerating Hex.
As the red-coloured spell struck the witch, her comrade's voice sounded from the other alley. "Sectumsempra! What?! It's a fake! Potter's around here and he's using decoys!"
Harry managed to whip his wand up just in time. "Expelliarmus. Stupefy."
The wizard's wand flew out of his hand before he collapsed like a sack of potatoes. Stepping out of the alley, Harry saw that the wizard whose wand he had shattered and the witch he'd trapped in her own robes apparate out. Shit. I should have done something about them sooner. Nothing for it now.
He fired off a few more Incarcerating Jinxes so that he could be sure that the remaining four at least wouldn't be walking around when they woke up. He also Summoned their wands and broke each one to prevent any further trouble from them.
Better make sure this was the only group here. Harry made his way up the street, moving from cover to cover, his eyes roving all over as he tried to identify any remaining threats. As he came close to the place where he had transfigured his second simulacrum, he spotted something that caused him to freeze up: Hermione rushing down the street, her wand held out in front of her, a bag from Gladrags swinging from her other hand.
Ignoring caution and cover, Harry stepped out raced towards her. "Hermione, what are you doing here?!" he demanded grabbing hold of her arm as he drew level with her and trying to turn her back towards the carriages. "There could still be Death Eaters out here."
"I can help! Besides, I owe these terrorists some payback."
"You've only studied back up to somewhere in your second year," Harry snarled in her face, harsh with worry. "Impressive as that is, it will not be enough; you will die if you stay and I-…" Harry cut himself off from saying something he'd never be able to explain and that would only cause Hermione pain. "When you've studied up to at least your age-level, I won't say a thing if you want to stay and fight, but not yet."
"And how is it that the little mudblood is learning any magic at all, Harry Potter?" a cold voice hissed.
Harry's head whipped up to find Voldemort's lethally curious gaze between them and the safety of Hogwarts Castle. Slamming up his occlumency shields and pulling Hermione behind himself protectively, Harry tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this one. "Riddle," he hissed back.
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed dangerously, but when he spoke his voice sounded controlled. "The little girl should never have been able to recover from having her mind locked and yet I hear she is steadily regaining knowledge that should have remained denied to her. My people tell me that this is your doing, Harry."
"Your people? Care to introduce us?" Harry kept an eye on the idly twirling wand in his enemy's hand. The longer I draw this conversation out, the less time I'll have to buy by fighting and it's clear that he wants me to answer.
"Why Harry, you already know them. Who else would have told me that you had finally crawled out from under that old fool's beard? Now, stop avoiding the question and tell me: how did you accomplish this… feat?"
"Why would I tell you?" Harry asked. "What's in it for me?"
"Why, Harry, what a Slytherin response. Perhaps there is some hope for you after all," the pale face across from him mused with a smirk. "Tell me what I want to know and I shall allow you to join the ranks of my Death Eaters."
"Tempting, but no," Harry growled out, backing away towards the ruins of Honeydukes while making sure that Hermione was moving in that direction as well. If I can get there we'll have some cover and Hermione can take the secret passage back to the castle.
"Shame," Voldemort drawled, clearly not meaning a bit of it. "Then I will simply have to take my answer from you by force!" At his final cry, Voldemort's wand came up like a striking snake, spitting out curses.
Harry had been waiting for this though and had another reason for wanting to be close to Honeydukes. With a sweeping move of his wand, the rubble around them leapt into the air like a storm of stones and intercepted everything the Dark Lord had just thrown out.
"You've been practicing, Harry!" Voldemort laughed. "Good. Good… but not good enough. You are not my match yet, boy!"
"Only one way to find out, Riddle!" Harry called back, launching a few Reductors through the cloud of rubble around him. Reaching behind him, he grabbed Hermione's hand to get her attention. "Hermione, listen to me. Reducto!Get to the basement of this shop. There's a- Impedimenta! Mucuscielago! Herpestidafors! There's atrapdoor there that'll let you into a tunnel. Duro! Fulminis! Depulso!Follow it all the way up to the school and warn Dumbledore if he's not realised what's going on yet. We're going to need his help."
"But-…" Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers and her entire body was shaking like a leaf. Harry suspected that she didn't exactly know how she wanted to protest leaving or if she even really did want to protest.
"No 'buts', Hermione. Just do it." Just then several of the larger pieces of rubble exploded, showering them shrapnel. They could hear Voldemort laughing at their flinches. Harry straightened up, his face set and raised his wand. "Go! I'll hold him off!", he called out as he summoned more rubble to his shield and sent some of the sharper pieces rocketing at his enemy. Behind him, Harry could hear Hermione running into the building, which allowed him to shift his full focus on to the lethal threat in front of him.
"I confess that I have been curious about whyyou would choose to help her, Harry. I did not know that you loved the little mudblood. How very careless of you," Voldemort smirked viciously.
"Don't know what you're talking about, Riddle," Harry retorted, adding in a few more curses for good measure. Focus! He's just trying to distract you. At least with Hermione safely away he was able to move around, the swirling debris moving with him.
"Really now, Harry. Did you think that night wouldn't be etched into my memory? That I wouldn't be able to recall every last detail? Did you think that I would not recognise the last words your blood-traitor father spoke before he died? Will you do the same for her, Harry? Will you die to protect her?"
Harry did his best not to listen to the obvious taunts or the way his mind was screaming at him for choosing those particular words without thinking, even as his heart beat became a series of emphatic thuds in his ears. He knew that Voldemort could probably take him if they made this a contest of sheer power; the Dark Lord's casual stance and casting made it obvious that he was well aware of this fact. So what is he up to?
Voldemort wasn't one to be impatient with a strategy though. "Perhaps I should put some effort into snatching your little mudblood out from under your nose, hmm? I could simply study her to discover how my spell was broken. Surely neither of you could object to such an educational pursuit?"
Harry gritted his teeth. He knew that the threat wasn't purely hot air. Voldemort was quite capable of targeting Hermione to get at Harry; had even done so for that express purpose at the Ministry. I should have done more to keep her away from him.
As the duel continued, with both wizards looking for an opening and casting sporadic flurries of spells, Harry realised something. I'm not going to be able to keep this up. Between the animation of the rocks and the spells we're casting at each other, I'm using more magic than he is… and he had more to begin with. If I'm not careful I'm not even going to be able to keep my occlumency up.
Judging by the smirk on Voldemort's lipless mouth, Harry was the second person in the duel to figure out what was happening. Great. He's draining me like a battery. Hermione, I really hope you find Dumbledore and tell him to get his arse down here.
Almost as if summoned by Harry's thoughts, a flash of fire appeared at the far end of Hogsmeade's main street, near the Hog's Head. The flames faded away to reveal Dumbledore releasing Fawkes' tailfeathers.
"Dumbledore!" Riddle hissed in fury, before swinging his gaze back to Harry. "I have no more time to play with you, boy." A wave of Voldemort's wand sent the floating stones crashing into Harry, knocking the younger wizard to the ground. A moment later Harry's head exploded in pain. He could feel the cold touch of a foreign mind in his thoughts. Frantically he rallied what skill he had in occlumency and shoved the memories of his various discussions with Dumbledore as far away from Voldemort's probe as he could.
Images began to flash through his mind. Walking through the Forbidden Forest with Hermione. The Oak King taking form. The Oak King's hand withdrawing from Hermione's forehead. The page of the Gwysio Tylwyth Teg that described the summoning ritual.
The probe was dragged from Harry's mind and he went limp for a few seconds, breathing heavily before rolling onto his knees and doing his best to keep his wand pointed at his adversary through eyes that were slow to blink back into focus.
"You summoned a fae creature," Voldemort breathed out with glee, holding spells from Dumbledore's wand at bay with the combination of shields Harry recognized from when he had fought the dark wizard and Lestrange at the Ministry. "Who would have thought that the new hero of mudbloods and blood-traitors would learn dark magic from the old?" The monster threw his head back cackled with laughter. "Oh, Harry Potter, I had thought I would not be able to play with you much longer, but the game has only just begun, I see."
With a loud crack, Voldemort disappeared from the street, his laughter still ringing off the buildings. Harry's gut clenched as he remembered the last time he had heard those echoes. Climbing tiredly to his feet he turned to face the Headmaster who was making his way over with a concerned look.
"It's good to see you uninjured, Harry," Dumbledore greeted him gravely, "or at least relatively so."
"Thanks, but we still have a problem," Harry sighed out.
"You refer to the pain you were in when I arrived? Pain that seemed centred on your head, I noticed."
"Yeah, he got me with legillimency. I managed to protect most of the important stuff."
"Hmm, 'most' implies that there was something important that Tom managed to take from your mind," Dumbledore rumbled with a frown.
"He was looking for the way I healed Hermione," Harry revealed heavily. Taking a quick look around to make sure they were alone, he continued in a lower voice. "He didn't find out that I know about… our lessons, but he seemed downright giddy about the idea of the fae."
Dumbledore went pale. "That is not good news," he said with remarkable calm.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't keep him out from everything." Harry hated how weak his voice sounded as he admitted this. Hated that if Dumbledore hadn't shown up when he did, Voldemort would have learnt even more. I'm useless. Dumbledore shouldn't have gone easy on me. He should have kept me in the castle until I could last the full ten minutes.
Dumbledore let out a sigh. "No, Harry, I cannot fault you. You did your best to protect what we had prioritized. Tom is uncommonly gifted with mind magics and there are not many who would be able to keep him out entirely if there was something that he dearly wanted to know."
"It's still going to be a problem for our side though, isn't it?"
"I very much fear that it will be, yes."
Harry dropped his face into his hands as a chill gripped his heart.
"Harry, this is not your fault. We are not better than we are and we cannot save everyone. No matter what the muggles of millennia past may have thought, we are not gods."
"Somehow, that's not really helping right now," Harry responded hollowly.
"Words never truly do. Go see Madam Pomfrey and let her give you a clean bill of health, then find your friends, Harry. I believe it is important that you spend some time with them."
Harry nodded numbly and began trudging his way back up to the castle. No matter what he says, it's my fault that more people are going to die.
I can at least make sure that the others are alright. Strengthened by that mission, Harry's strides gained purpose and his eyes locked onto the towers he could see rising over the forest. Let's get Pomfrey off my back first.
:-:-:-:-:
Hermione was fuming. Not only does he treat me like a child and send me to get the teacher, he then doesn't even come find me to let me know what happened! She did her best to ignore the memory of the paralysing fear she had felt at the sight of the monster that had taken so much from her. A small voice at the back of her mind chimed in with the question of why Harry Potter owed her an explanation at all. Of course he should come find me. I'm his student.
Hermione froze as she realised what she had just thought. Somehow, without her really noticing it, the shy, awkward bookworm appeared to have placed yet another teacher on a pedestal. You don't know that he sees you as anything worthwhile a vicious, insecure part of her hissed. You're just the little twit he's teaching.
No, he's a good teacher and he must see something good in me. Potter wouldn't be teaching me if he didn't want to. It's not like I could force him… I'm not even sure Professor McGonagall could force him. It didn't completely eliminate her anxiety, but determination girded Hermione against the emotions that were running wild through her body. I have to find him.
The worst thing that could have happened to Potter, or at least the worst thing that Hermione was going to allow herself to contemplate, was that he had gotten hurt facing off against He Who Must Not Be Named. That meant that the best medicine for the worst of her worry right now was to head to the Hospital Wing and reassure herself that Potter was going to be alright.
It did not take her long to find the room she had ended the previous year in. The moment she stepped through the door, Hermione began to suspect that she might regret it.
"Miss Granger, where have you been?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, marching over and casting a gimlet eye over Hermione.
Hermione felt her heart-rate pick up at the sight of an obviously displeased authority figure. "I, um… were you looking for me, Madam?"
"I have heard from no less than seven other students that you were seen running towards the battle. I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand exactly how foolhardy that can be," Madam Pomfrey seethed, pulling Hermione along to a bed and pushing her onto it. "Now, tell me exactly what happened."
"Nothing happened," Hermione protested desperately. "I ran into Potter, who had already fought down every Death Eater there and he sent me back to the castle to get the Headmaster when He Who Must Not Be Named showed up."
"He Who Must Not Be Named appeared?!" The Healer demanded.
"Um, yes? Is that all?"
"Sit." Clearly Pomfrey was not convinced that Hermione was well and began casting spells over her. "You do seem to be free from injury. A slightly elevated heartrate, but that's to be expected. Very well, Miss Granger, it would seem that you really didn't do yourself any harm," she finally allowed. "Tell me, did you see any other students caught up in the attack?"
"Just Potter. Is he not here yet?" Hermione hated how audible her anxiety was in her voice.
Madam Pomfrey sighed and shook her head. "He hasn't returned yet, Miss Granger." Something in Hermione's expression caused her to continue with: "try not to worry too much about Mr. Potter. There is a reason that the staff are letting him teach you Defence; that boy has tussled with dragons, basilisks and Dark Lords before and he's always come back in at least a treatable condition. You may have faith in your teacher."
"What if it's a condition you don't know how to treat?" Hermione whispered, allowing her worry to come out into the world.
"Hmmph. In that case I'll take a leaf out of Potter's own book and look through the Headmaster's personal library for the single most risky long shot I can find and use that," Madam Pomphrey snorted sardonically.
Hermione hadn't really intended for her whisper to be overheard, but the matron's response was tantalising enough that any potential embarrassment was forgotten in a rush of curiosity. "Oh? When did he do that?"
Madam Pomfrey gave her such a disbelieving look, that Hermione felt sure that she had just made herself look like the most colossal idiot on the face of the earth. "He hasn't mentioned this to you?"
"No." Now she was really starting to worry. Am I just his annoying student after all?
Madam Pomfrey's expression suggested that she was kicking herself. "Then forget what I just said. If Mr. Potter hasn't told you, I don't think it would be right to share it now."
Hermione opened her mouth to ask several more questions, but the matron cut her off. "You may leave now, Miss Granger." The dismissal was too emphatic to ignore and Hermione retreated from the Hospital Wing, her mind racing. There was only one thing she could think of that Madam Pomfrey could have been referring to: my injury last year. It was healed in a way that no one was able to properly explain; or perhaps they weren't willing to explain it. Somehow, it would seem that Potter had something to do with her recovery and he hadn't mentioned it even once. And I have no idea what I'm supposed to do about that.
AN:
The idea of a tetragramatic dowser is a combination of a dowsing rod, which some people claim helps them find water, and tetragrams, which are a technique from a type of divination called geomancy.
"The essence of strategy is deciding what not to do" is a quote from Michael Porter (econ/business students, I apologise for the flashbacks) and refers to business strategy more than anything, but it still fits.
The "war is a thing of pretence" line is lifted entirely from Sun Tzu's The Art of War. The other two are amalgamations of similar comments I've come across with regards to fighting.
Here's a quick rundown of the non-canon incantations Harry uses in his duel with Voldemort.
· Awel awen: 'awen' was the personification of (poetic) inspiration among the ancient Celtic druids. Awel is Welsh for 'breeze'. Together they are an inspired breeze.
· Ddrysfa dillad: Welsh words meaning 'maze' (ddrysfa) and 'clothes' (dillad). Think of this spell as a particularly intricate Chinese finger trap. It might also explain why the ancient Celts went into battle naked (or that tidbit could be the inspiration for this effect; we may never know).
· Elido: Latin for 'crush' or 'shatter' or 'break to pieces'. No fancy word games, it does what it says on the tin.
· Mucuscielago: Bat Bogey Hex. The incantation is a portmanteau of 'mucus' and 'murcielago', which is Spanish for 'bat'. The hex is canon, the incantation is me giggling about puns.
· Herpestidafors: -fors is the suffix added to animal transfigurations in canon (i.e. something that results in an animal) and Herpestidae is the clade to which mongooses belong. This is a spell to transfigure something, or a lot of somethings, into mongooses. This is extrapolated from canon, but not actually in any way canon.
· Duro: a hardening spell that turns the target to stone. The incantation is just Latin (and Spanish) for 'harden'. I think it's canon, but may be fanon so I'm including it here.
· Fulminis: Latin for lightning. I like to think of this as the Emperor Palpatine Curse. Again, I'm not sure where this sits on the canon to fanon scale.