HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET ENEMY
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Updated 11/24/15 to correct a minor error ("First years" to "Second years").
CHAPTER 23: The Boggart (Pt. 2)
"I think a temporary confiscation of Jim's cloak is a most satisfactory solution," said Dumbledore, who then turned to Jim. "I hope this will help you to understand how these pranks can suddenly turn very serious, young man. And I also hope you will do the right thing and apologize to your brother as soon as possible so that the two of you can put this behind you."
Jim nodded. With that, the impromptu disciplinary meeting ended. Professor McGonagall accompanied Jim to take custody of the invisibility cloak, while Lily and James went once more to check on Harry's prognosis, and the other staff members retired for the night.
Jim stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room, followed by McGonagall. Instantly, he froze. It looked like over half the House was there waiting for him, and most of them looked unhappy. Longbottom, Granger and Lovegood sat together on a sofa. The first two were staring at him in judgment, the third with something that looked strangely like pity. From over in a corner, Ron flashed him a smile and a nod, reassuring Jim that he would still have at least one friend in the House, but everyone else just looked at him in confusion and worry, as if waiting to hear how the Boy-Who-Lived had screwed up this week.
At McGonagall's direction, Jim went upstairs to retrieve the cloak while she addressed the House. With an icy calm, she explained to everyone that Jim had performed a prank which had injured another student and informed them of his punishment. The reaction was a mixture of shock at the nature of the offense and fury over the points lost. McGonagall also announced that her tolerance for pranks was at an end, and any further pranks against Slytherin House would be met with the harshest sanctions. Jim returned with the cloak and gave it to McGonagall, who left without another word to him.
Later, Jim and Ron were sitting alone in their dorm room discussing what had happened.
"It's not fair," said Ron bitterly.
Jim shrugged. "I deserved it. If anything, I probably got off easy. It was stupid of me to let the boggart loose like that. It's lucky he wasn't hurt worse."
"I thought the plan was to just get a picture of Harry's boggart with Colin's camera. What happened?"
"The first time, Harry was too fast. The boggart popped out and took Vernon's form... sort of... but Harry banished it before I could take the picture. I thought I could let it out again and then take a quick photo before he could get his wand out. I just thought it was Uncle Vernon he was afraid of. I should have realized that doxies would play a part in it."
"So? How does that change things?" Ron asked.
Jim sighed. "Mum says if your boggart is actually based on a physically traumatic event, exposure causes you to relieve that trauma. When Harry couldn't banish the boggart the second time, he felt as though he was getting stung nearly to death again. It must have been agonizing."
Ron was silent for several seconds. "Look, it may have been bad for Harry, but that punishment was still way too harsh for an accident. If you want me to, I'll go to McGonagall and tell her the whole 'boggart thing' was originally my idea to begin with. Maybe she'll split your detention time and give some of it to me."
Jim smiled wanly and punched his friend in the arm. "Nah, mate. It was your idea, but it was my screw-up, so I'll take the punishment. There's no reason for both of us to be in the doghouse."
"If you think that's best. So what are you going to do about Harry? You know he'll come after you for this."
"I'll talk to him tomorrow morning and apologize. I hope he'll agree to, well, a cease-fire I guess."
"He won't honor it, Jim. He's a Slytherin!"
"Hey now, your sister's a Slytherin, mate!" Jim said with a smile. "We need to be a bit more open-minded now, don't we?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Never mind Ginny. Harry's the one who'll be coming after you."
"And if he does, I'll deal with it. But if I do, I can't get caught. I've lost my father's cloak for a month! If I get caught pranking Harry again, I might lose it for good."
Ron nodded sagely at that and then looked at his friend quizzically. "I've always meant to ask you – what's the deal with that cloak, anyway? It sure looks a lot higher quality than most invisibility cloaks I've seen."
Jim smiled and puffed up a bit in pride. "Have I never told you? It's got quite a history to it." And with a smug expression, he began expounding on that history to his best friend who listened with rapt attention.
Meanwhile in the Slytherin Common Room
"Right, you lot!" bellowed Flint to get everyone's attention. "I just talked to Professor Snape. Here's all the news you're going to get so listen up. Earlier tonight during Lockhart's DADA session on boggarts, the Other Potter snuck in and let the boggart loose, and it attacked our Potter when he couldn't defend himself. He's in the infirmary until morning, but he'll be fine. In fact, I'm pretty sure the little bugger was faking most of it to get the Git-Who-Lived into trouble. In that, he succeeded, since the Other Potter has four weeks of detention and cost his house fifty points."
Several Slytherins openly laughed at that. "So," Marcus continued, "the word handed down by Snape himself is as follows: do nothing to Jim Potter over this. Got it?"
"So we're just going to let him get away with this? With attacking one of our own?" said Adrian Pucey angrily.
Missy Bulstrode stepped forward. "No, Pucey. It means we're going to get him our way. The Slytherin way. Right now, Jim Potter has his Head of House and most of the Gryffs furious at him. And he's got ten hours of detention every week for the next month. That will cut into his Quidditch practice time almost up until the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match on November 7th. Don't do anything between now and then that might cause people to get back on his side. Talk this up among the Claws and even the Puffs. Make sure everyone knows that this was an unprovoked attack by a Gryffindor bully. With luck, he'll snap and pull something else and get kicked off the Quidditch team altogether."
Everyone nodded at that properly Slytherin approach, and the members of the House broke up and headed for bed. Theo and Blaise sidled up to Marcus.
"So," Blaise asked quietly but intently, "was Harry really faking it or was he actually hurt?"
Marcus looked around to make sure they were alone. "It was ... bad. It could have been a lot worse. I mean, he'll be out in the morning instead of stuck in St. Mungo's for a week with the Mind Healers. But, yeah, it was pretty bad. And if Lockhart hadn't stopped me, I'd have hexed that little bastard as soon as he came into the infirmary. But I have to admit, Snape's got a point. I think Harry would much rather we just let everyone in the school think the Git's a needlessly cruel bully than get involved in some stupid prank war that will be bad for the House's reputation."
The two boys nodded and then went off to brainstorm on rumors to spread about the Boy-Who-Lived. It was the Slytherin way.
Just before midnight in the quarters of Severus Snape ...
Just as he was about to retire for the night, there was a knock at Severus Snape's door. He opened it, and to his surprise, Lily Potter pushed past him into his sitting room. He closed the door and turned to face her.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Potter."
"Let's just cut to the chase, Severus. I know you're more skilled than me at dueling and far more skilled than me at the Dark Arts. But I do have one thing going for me – I'm an angry mother. And I am telling you right now that neither of us is leaving this room until you tell me exactly what happened between Harry and Vernon Dursley on the night of the doxy attack!"
Snape stared for a few seconds at his old friend. Then ... he laughed. "Your righteous indignation is noted, Lily. But it is hardly impressive enough to induce me to betray any of my charges' confidences, not even your son's. In any case, I fail to see what answers you want from me. There is very little I could tell you that's not already spelled out in the auror's report."
That was a lie, of course, as there was a great deal of sensitive information about Harry Potter to which Snape was privy that was not in the auror's report, but he thought it would be sufficient to divert the angry woman. Lily stared at him silently with her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Ah. I see," said Snape in sudden understanding. "You did not even know that there was an auror's report. Which raises the question: Did your husband the Senior Auror simply forget to mention it to you? Or did he overtly lie about its contents?"
It took all of Snape's skill at Occlumency to not smile at the look of rising fury on Lily's face.
Early the next morning...
Jim woke before dawn as normal and headed downstairs for his morning workout. He was surprised to find a pajama-clad Neville Longbottom already in the Common Room, sitting in an overstuffed chair, waiting for him.
"Longbottom," he said, somewhat uneasily.
"Potter," the boy replied coldly.
"Look," Jim said, "I know you're mad at me, and you have reason to be. But I've accepted my punishment and I'm going to apologize to Harry later this morning. I hope that will be the end of it. But if you try to start something with me on Harry's behalf, I will defend myself."
Neville sniffed disdainfully. "I'll keep that in mind. And I'm glad to see you're accepting your punishment and apologizing, since that's pretty much the bare minimum I'd have expected from any decent person. Anyway, I was just curious. What exactly is your problem with Harry?"
Jim stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."
"Last year, you stood up to You-Know-Who with Harry at your side. One would think that would have been some kind of bonding experience for you and your long lost twin. But no, you're still as mean towards him as ever. And even though you know You-Know-Who is floating around, you're more interested in playing pranks on Harry. I don't get it. It's like you're jealous of the brother who got sent off to live with abusive Muggles."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Longbottom. And besides, Harry started this prank war."
"Well, good job finishing it. Has it occurred to you yet that the price you'll be paying both in detentions and in ill-will from the other Gryffindors will be worse than the effects of any of the pranks you claim Harry has played on you so far?"
Jim started to respond angrily but then deflated. "Yeah, Longbottom. Actually that has occurred to me. In fact, that thought pretty much kept me up all night. Satisfied?"
"Not quite. Did you see everyone's boggarts last night?"
He hesitated before answering. "Yes. For what it's worth, you actually did the best out of the whole class."
"Thanks," Neville said sarcastically. "So I guess you know everyone's biggest fears, huh."
Jim looked away. He'd been expecting conventional fears – monsters, wild animals, things like that. It had left him deeply uncomfortable to realize that over half the people in Harry's study group had boggart-fears manifesting as family members or which were otherwise related to generally traumatic childhoods. He'd never fully grasped just how ... sheltered his upbringing had been, and not just compared to Harry's.
"I ... I won't tell what anyone's fears are, Neville. I promise."
The other boy nodded. "Good to know. But I was curious about one thing. How many seconds did it take Harry to banish his boggart?"
Jim crooked an eyebrow. The question was unexpected. "I dunno. Two, maybe three seconds. Why?"
"You think you could beat him?"
He stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Neville finally stood up from his chair and walked right up to look Jim directly in the eye. "I mean, do you think you could possibly have handled that boggart as well as your brother? It's easy to laugh at other people's fears, Potter, when you've never faced your own. You've been given every advantage while Harry's fought for every scrap he has, and he's still better than you in every way that I think matters. Frankly, Potter, as 'Boys-Who-Lived' go, you're a bit of a disappointment."
And with that, Neville simply walked back upstairs, leaving the other boy alone with his shame and frustration.
Later that morning around 10:00 a.m. in the office of Rufus Scrimgeour...
The Chief Auror carefully removed the letter with the Hogwarts insignia from the barn owl which had delivered. Then, he took an owl treat from a candy dish on his desk and tossed it to the bird before sending it away. The name at the top of the letter caught him by surprise, and the request contained in the letter's body even more so. Putting it aside, Scrimgeour rose painfully from his desk and hobbled around to the door leaning heavily on the cane that was now a permanent fixture in his life. He poked his head out the door and called out for his secretary.
"Eleanor," he said. But then, before he could give any instructions, he noticed James Potter standing nearby talking with Kingsley Shacklebolt about a case. "Come into my office please."
Eleanor Burke, the ancient witch who'd been the secretary for Rufus Scrimgeour and the three Chief Aurors who preceded him, came into the office armed with a pad and a Ministry-issue Everfull Quill.
"Yes, Chief Auror?"
Rufus sat back down slowly as he considered his instructions. "Eleanor, I need you to pull a recently closed file for me. It was an incident report involving Harry Potter and his Muggle relatives. Make one copy and send it via secured owl post to Professor Lily Potter at Hogwarts. Oh, and make another copy and bring it to me." Then, he coughed somewhat delicately. "If at all possible, I'd rather James Potter not know about this."
"Certainly, sir. I'll get it done straight away." Seeing that Scrimgeour had no other orders, the witch left to do as he'd instructed. Rufus watched the woman depart, mildly curious as to how she'd go about letting Potter know what he'd specifically instructed her not to tell him and what promises Potter would have to make in exchange for the information. Eleanor had been loyal to him for years, but she'd been a Slytherin too, and they both knew he was on his way out. Accordingly, she'd happily take this chance to find out if Potter was someone with whom she could deal. Probably not. Potter was too much of a Gryffindor for the ... ethical fluidity it took to surround himself with people like Eleanor and make proper use of their particular skill sets. In fact, Rufus felt confident that Potter was too much of a Gryffindor to handle any part of the Chief Auror's duties. The best Chief Aurors had always been either Slytherins or Hufflepuffs, after all. Even worse, Scrimgeour thought that James Potter embodied the absolute worst combination of Gryffindor merits and flaws. Bold when he should be cautious, and overbearing when he should be discreet. Morally rigid when times call for pragmatism, and yet almost cowardly when matters as insignificant as reputation and personal honor were all that were at stake. All in all, a disastrous mix of qualities for a Chief Auror. Alas, the ultimate decision was Fudge's, and Fudge was far too enamored of the Boy-Who-Lived's fame to care about James Potter's deficiencies. Then again, getting the Chief Auror's job wasn't the same has keeping it.
"Power wears out those who cannot hold it, Chief Auror Potter," he thought to himself, repeating the adage that old Caractacus Flint had shared with him all those decades ago. Then, Scrimgeour shook his head and returned to his work.
Back at Hogwarts ...
Jim had tried to visit Harry in the infirmary, but his brother had already checked out. He also looked for Harry that morning and at lunch, but the boy was nowhere to be found. So instead, he resolved to meet with Harry and apologize before DADA that afternoon. But while he couldn't find Harry, he did have one brief encounter with Ginny Weasley. The girl walked straight up to him as he was entering the Great Hall at lunchtime and thrust a book at him. It was an autographed copy of Jim Potter and The Secret of Skull Mountain.
"Here," she said without preamble. "I don't need this anymore. I'm too old for fairy tales." Then, she turned and stalked off.
After lunch, as the Gryffindors and Slytherins waited for Lockhart to open the door for the afternoon's DADA class, Jim tried to get close enough to Harry to talk, with Ron by his side. To Jim's surprise, nearly the entire Second Year Slytherin class closed ranks behind his brother, including Draco and his bookends. It was a startling show of unity in support of Harry from a House that was not known for loyalty and camaraderie. Jim cleared his throat.
"Harry?" he began somewhat nervously. "I was wondering if we could talk for a minute? You know ... away from everyone?"
Harry stared at him impassively for several seconds "What about, Jim?" he finally said.
Jim swallowed. "About ... about what happened last night."
Harry stared some more and then looked down almost languidly at his watch. "Class it about to start, Jim. I don't think we'll have time. And I'll be tied up after class. I have a checkup with Madam Pomfrey scheduled at 4."
Jim winced, acutely aware of how everyone, Slytherin and Gryffindor, was watching. "Well, maybe after supper?"
After a few seconds, Harry smiled. "Alright, Jim. Meet me at 7:00 in Classroom 102. It's just down from the Great Hall so it will be convenient for us both. Does that work for you?"
Jim nodded and started to speak again when the classroom door opened. Harry turned and walked through the door without the slightest further acknowledgment of him and with the entire Second Year Slytherin class in tow. The Gryffindors followed, and while they weren't as cold as the Slytherins, most of them still gave Jim the cold shoulder, though Ron, as usual, was there to support him. Inside, the students took their seats somewhat cautiously. Lockhart was already seated behind his desk and staring off to one side of the classroom with an unusually grim expression. There was a pensieve on his desk. The students took their seats and waited patiently while the teacher seemed to ignore their presence. Finally, just as they were starting to look back and forth at one another nervously, he stirred and began to speak.
"Put your books away, class," he said almost quietly. "I'll be lecturing off the syllabus today, so do try to stay awake. Now, I imagine you all know about the incident last night in which a boggart was unleashed in uncontrolled circumstances. Without going into detail, I will say that the matter troubles me greatly, particularly as one person's greatest fear was publicly exposed in front of the entire assembled group. Rather than allow the school's rumor mill to run amok, I have decided to address that person's fear, and the issues implicated by it, this week in all my DADA classes."
Harry stiffened in his seat in surprise and betrayal, and he was acutely aware of the concerned expressions being shot his way by all of his friends. On the back row, Jim closed his eyes and pinched his brow between his fingers.
"But first," Lockhart continued, "there is some terminology we should discuss, terminology that, to be frank, none of you were able to adequately answer from my little quiz." He stood and gestured with his wand. "PYROLOGOS." Then, he continued flicking his wand as if he were writing on a blackboard, and in response, flaming letters appeared in the air. In a vertical line on the left side were three words: Dark, Light, and Grey. Across the top were five more words in a horizontal line: Magic, Wizards, Lords, Objects and Creatures.
"What is 'dark magic'?" he asked. "I ask rhetorically, students, as I am in no mood for the Socratic method today. There are many definitions of dark magic, particularly among lay-wizards. Most of these definitions are influenced by the lay-wizard's views on morality or ethics or simply grounded in ignorance. Most of them are also rubbish. In point of fact, there is only one definition of dark magic that matters in the eyes of the British wizarding law. Dark magic is magic used in the commission of a violent crime or for any other violent antisocial act. For purposes of this definition, you may consider violence against the mind or soul to be equivalent to violence against the body. Accordingly, a dark wizard is a wizard or witch who uses magic for deliberate intentional violence or to violate the body, mind or soul of another sentient being without the lawful right to do so. The actual spell used doesn't matter. If you use Wingardium Leviosa to levitate a brick in order to bash someone's brains in and you didn't act in self-defense or defense of others, you are a dark wizard and, in that context, Wingardium Leviosa is a dark spell. Similarly, some might describe Rictumsempra, the Tickling Charm, to be the mildest form of offensive magic we teach at Hogwarts, but that didn't stop Erasmus Wilkes from modifying it into a dark curse that literally caused his victims to laugh themselves to death. That said, some spells are considered 'darker' than others in the sense that such spells have very little utility outside of violent crime. Similarly, a propensity to regularly use magic aggressively makes a wizard darker than one who only occasionally dabbles in such conflicts. There are also a few very rare spells which are invariably considered dark because they are also esoteric in nature and the mindset needed to cast them automatically brands the wizards as being of a violent or cruel nature. The Unforgivables are but the most famous of these. If one believes in conspiracy theories, there are a handful of even darker spells now lost to us but identified by the legendary Anathema Codex, spells which are considered so intrinsically evil that mere knowledge of how to perform them is proscribed, though if the Codex ever truly existed, the Ministry has long since erased all public knowledge of it along with the spells it described. Outside of those rare examples of indisputably dark magic, whether a spell is dark or not is largely a question of semantics and circumstances."
Lockhart rose, walked to the side of his desk, and tapped his wand to the pensieve. A ghostly mist rose from it and coalesced into the translucent life-sized form of a cruel-looking man with a thick beard and Slavic features and who was dressed in an Azkaban prisoner's uniform.
"Case in point: In the last war, the Death Eater Antonin Dolohov was notorious for his signature use of the Entrail-Expelling Curse which, well, does exactly what the name implies. As an example of dark magic, the Entrail-Expelling Curse is easily one of the most deadly spells known to wizards, arguably second only to the Killing Curse in terms of lethality. It can be blocked or parried, unlike the Killing Curse, but otherwise a victim hit by it even with a glancing blow will die in less than ten seconds absent the immediate application of extremely high-level healing magic of a sort normally available only to healers in the St. Mungo's emergency ward. Most wizards would unquestionably consider the curse to be extremely dark magic, and yet it can be found in a tome upstairs in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. Despite its restriction, that tome is not a book on dark magic. On the contrary, it's called Rackharrow's Guide to Magical Farming, and it is actually a collection of spells used for animal husbandry. Dolohov's favorite curse was the reason for its restriction, as no other spell in the book has any combat applications whatsoever. You see, the Entrail-Expelling Curse was originally known less theatrically as the Hog-Slaughtering Charm. The spell was developed by Eastern European wizards in the 15th century to facilitate the slaughter and preparation of farm animals prior to cooking. And believe it or not, Antonin Dolohov was apparently the first person in the spell's entire history to ever think to employ the spell against a living human rather than a dead pig, for which he is currently serving a life-sentence in Azkaban."
Lockhart flicked his wrist, and flaming check marks appeared at the intersection of Dark/Wizard and Dark/Magic.
"In light of what I've just said, it should not surprise you to learn that a similar analysis applies to dark objects and dark creatures. A dark object is an object enchanted to harm others in some capacity, such as the cursed toys produced by Erasmus Wilkes. A dark creature is a magical animal that is inherently hostile towards living beings and especially wizards and witches, usually one bred by dark wizards for that purpose. To be classified as a dark creature, the animal must either be of a sort that is highly susceptible to control by a dark wizard and thus useful as an attack animal or the creature must have some degree of sentience and intelligence but nevertheless regard wizarding kind as either an enemy or as a food source. Dragons are incredibly dangerous Class XXXXX creatures, but they are not dark because they lack the intellect to choose to harm wizards and because they are not generally suitable for use by dark wizards as creatures of mass destruction. Acromantulas, on the other hand, are dark creatures because they are intelligent beings capable of conversing with us and yet still willing to eat us for food. Likewise, inferi, while not sentient, are still dark creatures, for they are the created servants of necromancers, bound to obey their creators' destructive whims. Goblins were, at one point, considered dark creatures until various magical treaties limited their ability to indiscriminately attack us, and so that descriptor was removed from them."
He flicked his wand again, adding check marks for Dark/Objects and Dark/Creatures.
"Now, having mentioned two notorious Death Eaters, let us segue into the topic of Dark Lords. This term has a bit more nuance to it compared to ordinary dark wizards. A dark wizard is any wizard who uses magic for violence or destruction. A Dark Lord – both words are always capitalized, by the way – is a dark wizard whose violence targets society itself. Some seek political conquest. Others pursue forbidden magic that, if unleashed, threatens destruction or loss of life on a massive scale. Many of them do both. And yet, the term Dark Lord also has a political dimension to it. For if a Dark Lord is someone who threatens society, then it follows that anyone who threatens the political status quo risks being called a Dark Lord. Raise your hand if you've ever heard of the Dark Lord McAvity."
No one raised their hand.
"Not surprising." Lockhart tapped the bowl again, and the image of Antonin Dolohov was replaced by that of an earnest-looking man wearing a wizard's robe over a distinctly Muggle business suit. "Alexander McAvity was a Muggleborn wizard who graduated Hogwarts in 1952 at the top of his class only to be denied employment at the Ministry due to his blood status. Incensed at the institutional bigotry against Muggleborns that continued to flourish even in the aftermath of the Grindelwald Conflict, McAvity sought to organize his fellow Muggleborns, politically isolated Halfbloods, and socially-conscious Purebloods into a political group that would fight for the rights of Muggleborn, squibs and Muggles. The government and the media condemned him as a Dark Lord who would tear down our entire society and shatter the Statute of Secrecy blah-blah-blah, and he was accused of all sorts of crimes that he couldn't possibly have committed, particularly since the man was an admirer of the Muggle political activist Mahatma Gandhi, one of the Muggle world's most prominent advocates for non-violent political change. While McAvity did win several important concessions from the Wizengamot, he was eventually forced to flee the country to evade several trumped up charges brought by the Ministry that would have sent him to Azkaban. Today, the 'Dark Lord McAvity' is a senior official in the government of Wizarding Australia, a fact which causes all kinds of unpleasantness at the ICW meetings to which he is a delegate. The movement he created survived his departure, however, and won further concessions throughout the 60's and 70's. Some argue that the rise of You-Know-Who was precipitated in part by the successes of McAvity and his followers which frightened the more reactionary Purebloods into embracing anyone who promised to preserve their power and status."
He turned to add another check mark but then stopped and turned back to the class. "There is one other important aspect to the term Dark Lord. Unlike the other terms I've mentioned, 'Dark Lord' has a secondary meaning. Specifically, it is a term of art in the field of Divination. True prophecies almost never mention evil wizards by name but instead use the expression 'Dark Lord' to identify a particularly awful dark wizard whose destined rise and/or defeat is foretold by the prophecy. In other words, in the context of prophecy, a Dark Lord is a wizard so terrible that Magic and Fate themselves have taken notice of him." At that, Jim and Harry and their friends who fought against Voldemort the previous year turned to look at one another. According to Voldemort himself, the prophecy about Jim referred to 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.'
"Now, I saved the term 'Dark Lord' for last because, as it happens, it is only in reference to Dark Lords that the terms Light and Grey matter at all. There are no light spells or light objects. Some people assume that the Patronus Charm is a 'light spell' because of it's effectiveness against some dark creatures, but ultimately, it merely requires the wizard to be able to maintain a happy thought, and there have been many dark wizards who could cast the Patronus. There is only one arguably light creature: the phoenix, though opinion is rather divided on the matter due to that noble bird's rarity. No, 'The Light' as the term is generally used in Magical Britain simply refers to whatever political alliance sets itself into opposition against the Dark Lord of the day, and "the Grey" refers simply to those who practice neutrality between the two sides to the extent they are able. Some Grey families avoid such conflicts completely by going into seclusion or fleeing the country for the duration of the conflict. Others actively encourage different family members to join both sides of any conflict so that someone will be assured of living through it. However, these political terms are ultimately fluid and driven by social consensus. Albus Dumbledore was considered the Leader of the Light during the Grindelwald Conflict and again during the Wizarding War against You-Know-Who. However, Abraxas Malfoy of all people claimed the title of Lord of Light during Alexander McAvity's period of activity, a claim effectively endorsed by both the Wizengamot and our media over the objections of Albus Dumbledore, who was considered Grey in that conflict even though he openly agreed with McAvity on many points."
Lockhart added question marks to Light/Lord and Grey/wizard and X's to all the other Light and Grey combinations. Meanwhile, several students turned to look towards Draco, whose face revealed nothing of his thoughts, not even whether he'd even been aware of the conflict between his grandfather and "the Dark Lord" McAvity. Lockhart paused as if to collect himself before forging ahead. "Now then, with our terminology established, let us move on to the true topic of today's lecture, a topic which lies at the intersection of Dark Lord, dark magic, dark creature and dark wizard. Students, let me introduce to you ... my greatest fear."
And with that, Lockhart tapped the pensieve again, and the smiling face of Alexander McAvity was replaced with a monstrosity – the same half-frenzied werewolf that the boggart turned into the night before. Several students gasped out loud, and on the front row, Lavender Brown gave out a small squeak of fear. Harry didn't flinch, but he was surprised to feel ... something poking around his Occlumency shields. Inexplicably, it made him think of some feral animal scratching at the door to his room, looking for a way in.
"Do you all feel that?" asked Lockhart. "The fear? The intuitive sense that you are now a prey animal and a predator stalks nearby? There is no shame in it. That sensation is supernaturally induced, an inherent property of the werewolf which is as much a part of its arsenal as tooth or claw. And what you feel now is muted. That is only a frozen memory of my encounter with this ... charming fellow, and the psychically-induced fear you're experiencing right now is less potent than that generated by a boggart copying the beast and far less potent than that generated by the true beast itself. In the presence an actual transformed werewolf, most people are so paralyzed with fear that they're barely capable of running for their lives, let alone mounting any sort of defense."
Lockhart paced around the desk, never taking his eyes off the werewolf as he spoke, as if he didn't even trust his own memory to not run amok. "There have always been those who had the power to become wolves. The occasional animagus. Wizards who had mastered human-animal Transfiguration. Some ancient wizards once bred the power to assume wolf form within isolated Muggle populations among the Vikings, the ancient Greeks, and certain tribes in the Americas, though those populations have been extinct for centuries. But none of those is ... a werewolf."
"The Lycanthropic Curse was created in the 14th century by the Dark Lord Emeric the Evil. Emeric wanted an army of bloodthirsty monsters bound to his will that could sweep across the land as his conquering army, and what we call lycanthropy represents the fruits of his experiments. The curse was, thankfully, an imperfect vessel for his ambitions. The werewolf is at its most powerful when fully transformed under the full moon, which is also the only time it can transmit the curse to others, but during that time, it is also a mindless predator incapable of higher reasoning. It was said that Emeric could exercise some control over them in this state, but never enough to deploy them as an effective fighting force. And even under his control, transformed werewolves almost always enter a ravenous frenzy when in combat and are far more likely to kill their targets when Emeric would have preferred to leave victims alive but cursed to grow his ranks. A rather important design flaw, and one which likely saved Wizarding Europe from conquest by an invincible werewolf army."
He turned back to face the class. "There are those who view werewolves as tragic and misunderstood creatures. They are only dangerous one night out of the month, they say. They are not responsible for their condition, they say. They deserve our pity and acceptance, they say." Lockhart's face hardened, and there was no trace of Witch Weekly's Winning Smile. "Sentimental tripe! Such misplaced compassion ignores the true danger of the werewolf. Yes, the monster is only visible to the naked eye on the night of the full moon, but it is still there the rest of the month, lurking behind the werewolf's eyes. Every werewolf from the moment of infection carries the Beast within him. Most try to fight it as long as they can. Muggles rarely last more than a lunar cycle. Strong-willed wizards can last for years, and some research suggests that infected children have a greater resistance than most. But eventually, every werewolf gives in to the Beast."
He tapped the bowl again, and the werewolf disappeared to be replaced by a burly unshaven man with cruel eyes and a sneer. "This is Eustace Tully, also known as 'the Wagga Wagga Werewolf." Then, he stopped and chuckled. "No, no. Let us not hide behind pretense any longer. Students, raise your hand if you have actually read Wanderings with Werewolves. The whole book, not just the pocket part." About a third of the class raised their hands. "Well, throw it out. It's fiction. Rubbish, the whole book. I did not 'defeat the Wagga Wagga Werewolf with the Homomorphus Charm.' That spell can force an animagus to revert to his human form but it has no effect on werewolves. And more importantly, there was no Wagga Wagga Werewolf in the singular. It was an entire pack consisting of over a dozen of these creatures! I was forbidden by three different wizarding governments as well as my publishers from revealing the true story of how I brought that pack down after it had cut a bloody swath through New South Wales. Because it would "traumatize my readers" to accurately relate the things I witnessed! Because it would stir up bigotry and hatred against those werewolves who were not ruthless cannibal-killers! Because it would have embarrassed the Australian Wizarding government for me to have exposed their ineptitude in dealing with the werewolf threat!" By this time, Lockhart was nearly shouting in anger. He took a few breaths to calm himself. "And finally, because I might have faced criminal prosecution if I had revealed what spells I really used to bring Tully and his pack of animals down. Which is why that particular book is filled with drivel about using the Homomorphus Charm which any idiot should know would be ineffective!"
The class was so silent one could hear a pin drop. Lockhart turned back to the ghostly figure floating above the pensieve. "You have seen Eustace Tully on the night of the full moon. And here, you see Eustace Tully as he appeared when he pretended, however ineffectually, to be human. This is what Eustace Tully looked like to the vast majority of his victims." Lockhart tapped the pensieve again, and the figure of Eustace Tully changed, growing larger and more hirsute, and sprouting talon-like claws, jet black eyes and obvious fangs. "A werewolf who gives in to his Beast merges with it to become a hybrid creature. While he can only fully transform on the night of the full moon, he can assume this form at will. It will no doubt seem familiar to any of you who have seen pictures of the notorious Fenrir Greyback who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the last war, for he maintains this transitional shape at all times. In it, the werewolf is stronger, faster and more damage-resistant than any human. His claws can cut to the bone, and they leave permanent curse marks even if they do not actually transmit the curse itself. But the most important change is in here."
With that, Lockhart turned back to the class and tapped his finger against his temple. "A werewolf who surrenders to his Beast abandons his humanity, as well as his ability to view humans as anything other than prey. Oh, he can pretend, of course. The werewolf is a cunning predator and sensible enough to feign humanity if doing so is advantageous. But remember this! A werewolf who hunts and kills on the night of the full moon will eat his prey as any wild animal would. When Eustace Tully and his gang killed, they did so by the light of day. And when they ate their victims, they sat at dinner tables and used knives and forks!"
Lockhart regarded his horrified class, half of whom looked physically sick. "Any questions?"
By late that afternoon, reports of Lockhart's ... spirited views about werewolves were all over the school, and Lockhart, Dumbledore and McGonagall were all absent from supper. The rumor mill was working overtime, and some students were certain that Lockhart had already been sacked. Whether the sacking was because he was a horrendous bigot against a cruelly abused minority group or because he was a brave truth-teller martyred for trying to warn students of a legitimate danger varied depending on the politics of the speaker. Of course, not all the rumors were exclusively about Lockhart. Quite a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were discussing a rumor they'd overheard from Theo Nott and Daphne Greengrass suggesting that Lockhart was really at Hogwarts to investigate whether the Boy-Who-Lived had been replaced by some dark creature, thus explaining his recent scandalous conduct.
After the evening meal, Jim made his way to Classroom 102. Inside, he found his brother ... along with all the other seven members of Team Protector.
"I hope you don't mind, Little Brother," Harry said easily, "but the way I see it, I wasn't the only one wronged by what you did. You spied on everyone's boggart-fears, so anything you have to say about it, you can say to them a well."
Jim sighed in annoyance. He should have expected Harry would to do ... something. And now, the intimate brother-to-brother apology he'd planned would be made in front of an audience from a cross-section of the school, most of whom actively disliked him. He took a deep breath and dove in. It was a long rambling apology, but it was genuine. The Hufflepuffs seemed to buy it, at least. Ten minutes later, everyone left except Jim and Harry, though Neville and Flint both looked like they would have stayed behind had Harry not reassured them that he'd be okay. Jim grimaced and bit down on his anger. "Honestly," he thought, "they act like I'm going to stab him or something once they're gone!"
Harry studied his brother for a moment. "I'd like to congratulate you, Jim, on how heartfelt your apology seemed to be. I don't know if you're sincere, but if not, you fake it well."
"It was sincere, Harry, I ... I didn't want things to go down like they did. I wanted to scare you a bit. Scare you and embarrass you in front of some classmates. I never wanted to actually hurt you."
Harry nodded. "Just scare and embarrass me. Right. Like that makes it okay."
"Oh, come on, Harry. You've gotten your licks in on me this year. You know you have. I spent a whole day last week with green and silver hair."
"Believe it or not, that wasn't me."
"Yeah, right. Like the Leprechaun crown wasn't you, either?"
"Nope. I know this is impossible for you to believe, Jim, but my world doesn't revolve around you, and I've been rather busy this year. I've only ever played one prank on you, and that was the fake cloak from last Easter."
"Oh please! Every prank that's been pulled on me this year has been tagged with SRGD! That's your calling card!"
"That's ... What?! I don't have a calling card! What does that even mean, anyway?"
Jim stared at Harry in consternation. "Slytherins Rule? Gryffindors Drool? Any of that ringing a bell?"
Harry stared for a second and then laughed. "Oh, that! You know, I'd forgotten all about that! I mean, a lot has happened for me since last Easter, Little Brother." Harry thought for a second. "Ah! And I guess GRSD is short for 'Gryffindors Rule. Slytherins Drool.'" He snorted. "So your dungbomb prank was derivative as well as juvenile. That's ... kinda funny, if only unintentionally."
"Whatever," Jim said angrily. "Look, Harry. Whether those were your pranks or not, the fact remains: I played a prank that got you hurt, but as a result, I'm a pariah in my House and I have a month of detentions. Can't we just ... call it even?"
Harry actually did a double-take at that. "You ... hurt me, and then got punished for it. And that's ... even to you?! Amazing."
"Dammit, Harry!"
Harry raised a hand as if to placate the boy. "Alright, alright. I won't lift a finger to help you repair your reputation, but if you do nothing else to me or any other Slytherin, I won't retaliate for what you've done so far. Honestly, I find the idea of a prank war ... tedious. I can't for the life of me see why you Gryffindors enjoy them." He walked up close to Jim. "But if you play one more stupid prank on me or any of my friends, I swear to Merlin and Morgana that I will respond with everything I have. You won't see it coming. You'll never prove it was me. But whatever I do will haunt you till the end of your days. Got it?"
Jim nodded at the threat. Harry shook his head almost contemptuously and left the room. Despite everything, Jim sighed in relief. Harry seemed sincere about agreeing to a truce. With that out of the way, Jim only had one thing left to do.
Twenty minutes before curfew, Jim crept into the DADA classroom. It was empty this time of night, empty and dark. Stealthily (or at least as stealthily as Jim could manage without the benefits of an invisibility cloak), the boy made his way across the room to the storage closet in the back corner. A whispered Alohomora unlocked the closet door, and then, with some grunting effort, Jim was able to pull the trunk housing the boggart out of the closet and into the main classroom. He spent a few moments staring at the trunk with trepidation. Then, he took a deep breath, pointed his wand at the trunk, and said "ABIERTO."
He was expecting Voldemort, whether sticking out of the back of an undead Quirrell's head or in some other form. He'd admitted to himself that it might be Harry, through he wasn't sure what that said about either him or his brother. But what Jim was not expecting was for his boggart to rise up out of the trunk and assume the form of Hermione Granger. Specifically, a Hermione Granger sporting the most venomous smirk he'd ever seen on a fellow Gryffindor.
"You know, I just had the funniest notion!" she said in a voice that dripped with contempt for him. "Wouldn't it be amusing if, for all this time, it had been Harry who destroyed You-Know-Who? And the reason your parents sent him to his Muggle relatives was to keep him hidden away while they put you forward and made you famous just to hide the fact that Harry was the real Boy-Who-Lived?" Then, not-Hermione started to laugh.
Jim's hand started to tremble slightly. Why was this his boggart? He slashed his wand angrily.
"RIDIKKULUS!"
The boggart didn't disappear. Instead, it transformed itself into Neville Longbottom. "It's easy to laugh at other people's fears, Potter, when you've never faced your own. You've been given every advantage, while Harry's fought for every scrap he has, and he's still better than you in every way that I think matters. Frankly, Potter, as 'Boys-Who-Lived' go, you've been a bit of a disappointment."
"RIDIKKULUS!" Jim shouted a good bit louder. The boggart changed again, this time into someone whose appearance caused Jim's voice to catch in his throat.
"You're not good enough!" said Lily Potter. "You're wasting time on games and pranks when Voldemort's out there getting stronger. You have to try harder. Because if you fail, we'll all die. And it will be your fault!"
"RI-RIDIKKULUS!"
"You should be working on finding out your secret power," said a disapproving James Potter. "Merlin knows you couldn't possibly defeat Voldemort on your own without some kind of magical advantage. I mean ... look at you!"
"RI-sob-RIDIKKULUS!" Jim could barely get the incantation out over his sudden overpowering emotions. His wand hand shook uncontrollably, and as the boggart changed one last time, the magic word died on his lips.
"It should have been me," said Harry Potter with a malicious confidence. "I should have been the Boy-Who-Lived. Like Neville said, I'm better than you in every way that matters. And if I had been the Boy-Who-Lived and been blessed with your advantages, Voldemort would already be gone. Instead, all our hopes rest on a miserable failure who can't even manage a boggart let alone a Dark Lord. Pitiful!"
Jim staggered back and fell as not-Harry started laughing at his distress. The laughter continued as Jim picked himself up and ran out of the classroom. Then, the instant the door closed, not-Harry abruptly stopped laughing and then dissolved once more into a fog-that-was-not-a-fog. The boggart flowed back into its trunk, and the lid slammed itself shut with a mighty thud. After a few seconds, the last echoes died away, and finally the classroom was silent once more.
November 2015 has sucked! A fall that sprained my wrist so I couldn't type for four days. Then, immediately after that, I got food poisoning and went into the hospital for two days. Then, I spent two weeks trying desperately to get caught up with my paying job and didn't have time to write anything. And as I write these words, I'm on day five of a severe chest cold which I have to see a doctor about Monday before I end up with pneumonia. Consequently, I'm taking a week off to recuperate and enjoy Thanksgiving with my extended family. Hopefully, that will also give me a chance to whip the next few chapters into shape because right now, I'm not happy with them at all.
The next chapter will (God willing and nothing else happens) be posted in two weeks on Friday, December 4, 2015. "Title TBD," in which some stuff happens. Definitely Halloween, probably a petrified cat, possibly a Quidditch match and some Potter-on-Potter violence.
AN 1: The Boggart Pt 2 is easily the longest chapter I've done so far, mainly because Lockhart's rant fell right in the middle and so there was no good place to cut. Besides, it's been pointed out to me that the pace of Year Two is a bit slow. This is the 23rd chapter of Secret Enemy and we're not out of September yet! Halloween will accelerate things, I promise (as Halloween always does in Harry Potter stories). So consider this extra long chapter a Thanksgiving present. :)
AN 2: Are werewolves irredeemable monsters? We'll see. The whole point (for me anyway) of this fic was to subvert as many HP fanfic cliches as possible. One such trope that I consider overused is the idea that werewolves are a pitiful despised minority group that only follows Voldemort because wizarding society is so mean and bigoted towards them. Usually in such stories, this bigotry conflict changes overnight because (a) Lupin stops moping and claims the Alpha status that he deserves for being one of JKR's favorites and (b) someone, usually Harry, points out to everyone that werewolves who take their potion are harmless fluffy puppies, and all the stupid wizards who are irrationally hateful towards werewolves suddenly change their minds. Oh, and throw in lots of intra-pack politics brazenly cribbed from Werewolf: The Apocalypse.
While there are some good stories that make use of those themes (A Marauder's Plan by CatsAreCool and Were's Harry by DobbyElfLord, both of which I like even though they've been quiet for a while), I wanted to do something else. Now, Gilderoy is not a reliable narrator on the topic of werewolves. You'll find out more later, but for now, let's just say that the Wagga Wagga Werewolf was the moment everything changed for Gilderoy Lockhart. Right now, our DADA instructor feels towards werewolves sort of like how Mad-Eye Moody feels towards, well, everything. But this raises an important point: why should people become accepting of werewolves just because a potion now allows them to retain their awareness during the full moon when that is the only time they can infect other people? If you think about it, a transformed werewolf in control of his faculties may be more dangerous to the public.
Finally, all of this will probably raise questions about "where's Remus"? All I can say is (a) he's coming, (b) he will not be an insane cannibal, (c) he may or may not be the DADA instructor, and (d) he will be much more ambiguous than he was in canon.
AN 3: Of course Slytherin Harry will not be drawn into a prank war. He played one prank on Jim in Year One (Slytherin Maneuvers pt 2) to blow of steam during that rather stressful Easter break but has since moved on to bigger things. And why should he waste his time with pranks against Jim? Right now, Jim is nearly as ostracized as canon-Harry was when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin ... and it's not even October yet!
AN 4: I made a minor change to the previous chapter after alert reader Gwendolyn McCormick pointed out a plot hole. Michael and Rose Evans died in 1979 not 1977 as Lily indicated before. They died soon after the wedding, and Charlus and Dorea Potter died a few months later but still in 1979.
AN 5: "Power wears out those who cannot hold it" is from Godfather Pt 3. Other than "Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me bake in," it was the only memorable line from the movie.