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 1/15/2016 to add two Author Notes and correct a typo.
CHAPTER 29: Escalation of Hostilities
9 November 1992
By the next morning, Harry had substantially recovered from the previous night's Occlumency-induced seizure. He awoke before dawn and spent an hour meditating in the Lair with Theo and Blaise watching over him to make sure he did it, followed by stern lectures from both friends about what he should and should not allow himself to feel for the next few days. After that, he was able to approach the prior night's shocking developments with a clearer head, and he quickly realized that his Parseltongue problems weren't quite as dire as he'd feared. He was still a Parselmouth, and he could still talk to snakes. To prove it, he conjured one with the Serpensortia Charm, and he could carry on a conversation with the snake he'd made, albeit it a boring, mostly one-sided conversation since conjured snakes lacked any real world experience. Harry had never actually gotten round to talking with a snake summoned via Serpensortia before, and he was disappointed to find that they were completely lacking in character compared to the rich and vibrant personalities of the Hogwarts serpents he'd come to know. Basically, all they cared about was doing whatever Harry summoned them to do and then going back to non-existence, which seemed to be their preferred state. He could still give such snakes fairly complex instructions, but on the whole, they were ... dull.
Based on his Serpensortia experiments, Harry assumed that he'd also be able to talk to living snakes, both mundane and magical, though it would be some time before he could confirm that officially, since most living snakes (even magical ones) hibernated during the cold Scottish winters. It was only the snake depictions, whether painted or sculpted, with whom he could no longer communicate, a terrible tragedy as far as Harry was concerned. Esme, Egbert, Arturo (the puff adder in the painting from the Slytherin Common Room), Siobhan (the grass snake that had warned him of the Weasley Terrors' prank the year before), and, of course, the ancient snakes who comprised the Hydra Throne. All of these had become his friends in the last year, even surly Nidhogg and the pompous runespoor triplets. And now, they were all silenced, perhaps forever. At a stroke, Harry had been stripped of his advisors, his spy network, and nearly half the people – and to a Parselmouth, snakes are people – with whom he talked on a regular basis. Even the Sentinel was silent, and while Harry could still command the door to the Prince's Lair to open with Parseltongue, it seemed the official password would continue to be "Moldy Shorts" for some time to come, a prospect that did not amuse Harry nearly as much as it did before.
ARE DEATH EATERS STALKING THE BOY-WHO-LIVED?
by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent to the Daily Prophet (November 9, 1992)
Faithful readers will no doubt recall the shocking incident from last summer when unidentified Death Eater sympathizers attempted to assassinate Jim Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, with a cursed train similar in nature to the diabolical toys once associated with the now-deceased Erasmus "The Toymaker" Wilkes (See summary of "Bloodbath at Potter Manor" on page 11.) Now comes further evidence of subtle and pernicious assaults against our beloved national icon, for this reporter has learned that persons unknown delivered a dark and possibly cursed book into the possession of an unwitting Jim Potter, one that had the potential of driving our young Jim mad! Luckily, the eagle eye of his father, Senior Auror James Lord Potter (with the assistance of unnamed Hogwarts staff members) recognized the danger and removed the foul remnant of You-Know-Who's reign of terror before Jim suffered any serious harm.
The Daily Prophet is informed that Jim Potter is receiving treatment to ensure that there are no lasting effects. However, this second attack against the Boy-Who-Lived should be of great concern to all right-thinking wizards and witches. Without casting any aspersions, your humble reporter is troubled by the timing of these incidents, for not only is Jim's older brother Harry a prominent figure within Slytherin House (see "Harry Potter: A Dark Wizard Rising?" The Daily Prophet, September 5, 1991) but he is now joined by the mysterious Amaryllis Wilkes, daughter of the Toymaker himself who was only recently Sorted into Slytherin! While this reporter is loathe to blame a child for the sins of the parent, one must also consider the wise old saying "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." The Daily Prophet will continue to monitor these developments and hopes that the faculty and staff of Hogwarts will be on the lookout for any further deviltry.
By breakfast on Monday, the whole school had read Rita Skitter's account of what had happened to the Boy-Who-Lived. The short version was that he'd come into possession of a Dark Magic book that had been affecting his mind in some way and that's why he'd been a bigger prat this year than the one before. He wasn't being punished for it, so most students assumed that it wasn't his fault, though those students already inclined to think poorly of the Git-Who-Lived were sure it was just a cover-up. More interesting was the internal debate about how Jim got the offending book, with a significant number of students believing Skeeter's insinuations that somehow Harry had engineered the whole thing as a way to embarrass or even injure his younger brother, a story merrily spread by Ron Weasley to anyone who would listen.
Harry finally read the offending article after threatening bodily harm to Blaise and Theo, both of whom initially refused to let him see it. As far as they were concerned, he was still recuperating from his breakdown and was not to use Occlumency to suppress his emotions for the next few days unless absolutely necessary. Consequently, if Harry read Skeeter's piece of yellow journalism, he would have to allow himself to feel it without any filters. His response was that (a) he was expecting it to be an attack on himself, (b) he would eventually piece everything together from the Hogwarts rumor mill anyway, and (c) better that he feel the emotion pain wrought by Skeeter's attacks than Blaise and Theo feel the physical pain of him clocking them on the ears, at which point Blaise muttered an expletive and handed over the paper. Harry thought the article was about what he'd expected after his conversation with Peter Pettigrew, but the brazenness with which Skeeter puffed up Jim was still breathtaking. "Our beloved national icon?!" And while most observers (or at least most non-Slytherin observers) would not have noticed any particular reactions from him as he read the article, Harry himself felt as though his displeasure was blazing brighter than the sun. Across the room, Jim and Ron were laughing at something, and though they weren't looking at him, Harry could not suppress the wholly baseless suspicion that it was over Skeeter's article. He resolved to spend some time practicing ping-pong that afternoon before this evening's detention – he suddenly had a powerful desire to inflict some punishment on his twin, since apparently Jim was immune to it from any other source.
In other Occluency-related news, Harry also received a note from the Headmaster himself, advising him that Jim had apparently learned most of the Prophecy the previous summer. Accordingly, Dumbledore would begin tutoring Jim in Occlumency himself, as the need to preserve the Prophecy's secrecy was paramount. He also encouraged Harry to continue his own studies and said that he would like to test Harry's defenses in January to see if he'd broken through to Level Three by then. If so, Dumbledore would reveal the Prophecy to him as well. Somewhat surprised that the old man seemed bent on keeping his word – and despite James's obvious opposition – Harry jotted down a polite response saying that he appreciated the notice and that he would be ready by January.
That afternoon
Just after lunch, the Weasley Twins cornered Harry and asked rather urgently to speak with him in private. The three found an empty classroom, and Harry studied the Twins who seemed uncharacteristically upset.
"What's up, guys?"
"We, um, were wondering if you'd heard anything about one of the Slytherins ... pranking us?" said Mole aka George.
Harry laughed for just a second before he caught Non-Mole/Fred's angry glare and realized it was no laughing matter. "Okay, this is serious then. Tell me what happened."
With visible reluctance, George filled Harry in on what happened in the locker room after the Quidditch match, while Fred stood behind him fuming. Harry nodded.
"I see. Someone stole your stuff, including the Map. Incidentally, if you don't mind, could you tell me what the Map actually does?"
George looked at him in surprise, while Fred narrowed his eyes rather angrily. "You mean you don't know?" he asked in clipped tones.
"Honestly, no. All I knew was that you had an enchanted map of some kind that was activated by saying 'I solemnly swear I'm up to no good.' I was bluffing on everything else." At that, both Twins looked at him crossly. "Guys, you were pranking me every other day. I had to do something. Anyway, what does the Map look like when it's deactivated?"
"Just an ordinary blank piece of parchment," said George. "If you try to write on it or use magic to force the password, it will insult you."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do. But I have to warn you. First of all, like you said, it's possible whoever took it already destroyed it without knowing what it was. And second, well, the sort of Slytherin who would write about you two being blood traitors isn't really the circle of Slytherins I run in. I mean, I have influence among the Quidditch team and the Second and First Years, but most of the upperclassmen still call me a blood traitor too. They'll just put up with a blood traitor who's rich, wins lots of House points, and is handy on a broom. All that aside, I promise I'll do my best to find your Map if it still exists."
"Thanks, Harry," said George.
"Don't mention it, George."
Fred stiffened. "Hang on a minute," he said suspiciously. "We didn't tell you which of us was who. So how'd you know he was George."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Not from reading the Map, if that's what you're implying, Fred" he said archly. "More like pain-staking observation and investigation for over a year."
"Fred, drop it," said George firmly. "Harry, we'll be in touch."
Harry nodded as the Twins left. He had learned from Ginny that George was the Twin with a tiny mole next to his left eye. But once he could match names to faces, he'd found it surprisingly easy to tell them apart just by observing them for any length of time. For two people who could complete each other's sentences, there were very noticeable personality differences between the Weasley Terrors. In particular, Harry noted that Fred was invariably the first one to show anger or aggression in any interaction when sufficiently provoke or when under stress. Harry filed the conversation away and left the room, his thoughts turning to who could have stolen the Twins' beloved Map.
Still later, after Second-Year Potions
Hermione waited somewhat nervously as the other students in the class filed out. She'd thought briefly about asking Harry or Neville to stay behind with her as Snape was her most intimidating professor, but she was nearly thirteen and so decided there was no reason she couldn't face the man on her own. "Gryffindor!" as Harry would probably shout sarcastically. After a moment, Snape realized the girl had stayed behind.
"May I help you, Miss Granger?" he said in a tone suggesting that he had absolutely no particular desire to help her whatsoever.
She coughed lightly. "Um, yes sir. I, um, I was wondering if you could tell me if, er, you were familiar with any of these spells." With that, she handed a parchment upon which she had written the names of four spells: Muffliato, Levicorpus, Liberacorpus, and Sectumsempra. Snape studied the list and then glared at the girl in mounting fury.
"Where did you learn about these spells?" he asked angrily.
"From ... the Gryffindor Library, sir," she said nervously.
"From..." Snape said before pausing as Hermione's words sank in. His anger was quickly replaced with complete astonishment. "From the Gryffindor ... Library?" His expression indicated that he'd have thought it more probable for the girl to have found the spells while exploring Mars.
She coughed again. "Well, that's what the Gryffindors call it. It's actually a single bookcase with only six shelves, half of which are given over to old Quidditch magazines and back issues of Teen Witch Weekly. However, there are a few magic-related books there, one of which appeared to be an introductory text on Arithmancy."
"Appeared, Miss Granger?"
She coughed again and then blushed deeply. "Yes sir. I found it in October of last year. Upon closer inspection, it actually turned out to be a bound collection of ... well, pornographic materials with a fake cover." Snape raised an eyebrow, and Hermione blushed even harder. "Anyway, some old parchments fell out of the book. They consisted of a few pages of Charms descriptions and a note from someone calling himself Padfoot and writing to someone named Prongs. Apparently, Padfoot had stolen the Charms from someone called..." She took a deep breath. "Someone who they called ... Snivellus, sir."
Snape hissed at that, but she persevered. "I didn't make the connection until Lord Potter called you that the other day. I should have remembered from our very first Potions class when Jim called you by that name. Anyway, once I realized these spells were stolen from you, I wanted to turn them back in and apologize for making use of what I'm sure you consider to be proprietary magic."
Snape studied Hermione as he considered her words. "Do I understand you to mean that you have successfully used some of these spells, Miss Granger?"
"Only Muffliato," she said nervously. "And I've taught it to Harry Potter and a few others, but I didn't tell them where I found it. I've been studying Levicorpus, but I've also been busy with other projects and haven't gotten very far with it."
Snape shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and admiration. He'd perfected Muffliato as a Fourth Year student, and apparently the Granger girl had mastered it just from cribbed notes after just a few weeks as a First Year. How she'd avoided a Ravenclaw Sorting was an absolute mystery.
"Do you have the notes with you?" he asked. She nodded and handed them over. He studied them for a moment. After nearly twenty years, he knew enough about the Marauders to identify Sirius Black as the author and James Potter as the recipient, though he never had figured out the origins of their odd pet names for one another. Then, he turned back to the Granger girl.
"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. While your honesty is appreciated, it was incredibly foolhardy for you to have been researching spells from partial and illicitly obtained notes without knowing what the spells do. In particular, it appears the notes for Sectumsempra contained here are incomplete. Had you attempted that spell based on what you have here, you might well have killed someone."
At that, Hermione paled and her eyes widened.
"You will also have detention with me this Saturday." She nodded sadly, before he continued. "During which we will review both Levicorpus and Liberacorpus, two very useful Defense spells not widely known. Naturally, you will not share your knowledge of these spells with anyone else without my express consent. Understood?"
Her frown turned into a smile. "Yes sir. Thank you, sir."
In good spirits despite the point loss, Hermione practically skipped out of the classroom. Snape shook his head and sighed. "The Gryffindor Library," he snorted.
12 November 1992
Harry was sitting in the Great Hall at lunchtime with his usual circle of friends when he noticed Hedwig fly in majestically and head in his direction. The snowy owl landed gracefully next to him and held out a claw to which a small leather pouch was attached. There was a small tag that said the pouch was from the Tonks Clinic. Eagerly, Harry opened the pouch and extracted the contents: a pair of rectangular glasses with jet black frames. Hermione or Justin would have said they looked like Wayfarer frames, which were popular at the moment among Muggles, though Wayfarers typically were not ornamented with a tiny silver snake logo on each temple. Harry smiled and swapped his old circular "Potter" frames for the new pair.
"Ooo," said Daphne. "Very stylish."
"Stylish and functional," he replied. "These glasses are Charmed to be impervious to water and fog. They can resist most Summoning Charms and will never come off accidentally. And also..." He reached up and tapped the snake on his left temple twice. Instantly, the lenses tinted themselves black, as the glasses converted into sunshades.
"Neat," said Tracey appreciatively. "Do they do anything else?"
"Eh, a few minor odds and ends," said Harry evasively. Truth be told, he'd spent nearly 300 galleons on his new glasses which had every enchantment and magical mod that was legal for enchanted eye wear, but it was against his nature to reveal too many of his tricks to even his closest friends. After deactivating the "shades" function, Harry happened to glance up at the Head Table, where Lily was looking at him somewhat sadly. Between the hair products and his new glasses, Harry know looked quite different from his twin brother, a fact that obviously made Lily unhappy. He felt for her ... until he thought back over Skeeter's article and other recent "family affairs." And then, he discovered that he didn't feel much for her at all.
25 November 1992
Today, Lily's sadness was replaced with anger as she stormed into the faculty lounge on a mission. Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were all having tea in the center of the room. Gilderoy Lockhart sat off to one side with a book while nursing a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles on top. Lily walked right over to the DADA instructor and put her arms on her hips as if prepared for a stern lecture.
"Professor Lockhart, I have just learned that the detentions you have held for both my sons for the last three weeks have involved liberal use of Stinging Hexes. Is this true?" With that accusation, the other teachers turned towards Lockhart, who sighed loudly and put his book away.
"I admit that my disciplinary technique does make use of the Stinging Hex at its absolute minimum setting, as an object lesson that I would think you as the Muggle Studies professor might appreciate."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked angrily. She'd only found out that morning from a distraught Ron Weasley who was upset that Jim wouldn't go to either of his parents over Lockhart's "abuse." Ron had made the professor's use of the Stinging Hex out to sound much worse than what Lockhart was now describing, though he himself probably had gotten a garbled account from Jim.
"Simply that it was a Muggle expression that gave me the idea. 'Me against my brother; me and my brother against everyone else.' My hope was that the two boys would become angry at me for inflicting such an annoying and unpleasant punishment on them, and consequently, they would join forces against me. After all, they've both gotten quite good at ping-pong, and if they'd simply cooperated and agreed to play a slow, leisurely game and not actively try to score points on one another, neither of them would be subjected to the hex. Unfortunately, I'm afraid my strategy has failed so far, as they've only gotten more aggressive in their game play over past several weeks. On the bright side, they're game play is quite good. I'd put both Jim and Harry above everyone else on Team Counterstrike except young Finch-Fletchley who's had years more practice. In any case, your sons only have a few more days of detention, so you can set your mind at ease."
With that, Lockhart returned to his book, ignoring the still fuming parent.
"To be quite honest, Gilderoy," said Pomona Sprout, "I can't for the life of me see what this ... ping-pong has to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts. My Hufflepuffs who are involved are certainly enjoying the game, and young Finch-Fletchley has blossomed now that he has an activity where he can be a leader, but I still don't see the point of it all. Your other research teams are involved with warding, advanced potions, and NEWT-level Defense spells. Are you quite sure these ... ping-ponging students aren't being shortchanged in comparison?"
Lockhart patiently closed his book once more, turned to Pomona with a smile, and said one word. "Averto." Then, he went back to his reading.
"A... verto?" Sprout said the unfamiliar word slowly. "I don't understand ..." But before she could continue, Professor Flitwick practically jumped out of his chair, startling the others.
"AH! AVERTO!" he shouted excitedly. "Of course! Severus! Do you see it?! AVERTO!" Then, the diminutive Professor began to laugh merrily. Snape narrowed his eyes slightly, but then, after a few seconds, his eyebrows rose fractionally, just enough to let the professors who truly knew him realize that he was genuinely surprised and impressed.
"Ah, yes," he said while nodding. "Averto. Pomona, I can assure you that Professor Lockhart's ping-pong exercises do in fact have a legitimate, if unconventional, pedagogical value. I would explain more clearly, but the good Professor has shown himself to be a bit of a showman. I wouldn't dream of spoiling whatever surprise he has for us."
Lockhart laughed. "Now that you mention it, Severus, the young men and women of Team Counterstrike have been working very hard. I suppose I should find some appropriate venue for them to demonstrate what they've learned." He paused and looked towards Snape and Flitwick speculatively. "Say, didn't Hogwarts used to have a dueling club?"
Flitwick's face broke out into a broad grin, while Severus's eyebrows rose just a fraction higher.
26 November 1992
From a notice posted on the bulletin boards in each House:
TO ALL HOGWARTS STUDENTS!
PROFESSOR GILDEROY LOCKHART
is pleased to announce that on December 17th at 8:00 p.m. there will be a
DUELING EXHIBITION
By the members of Team Counterstrike
followed by an organizational meeting for
THE HOGWARTS DUELING ASSOCIATION!
Punch and Light Appetizers to be served.
28 November 1992
The last joint detention for Harry and Jim was also the most brutal, and if Justin Finch-Fletchley could have seen it, he'd have been amazed, and perhaps a bit intimidated, by how aggressively and proficiently the Potter Twins approached the game. For a solid hour, the ping-pong ball flew back and forth at incredible speed. Relatively few points were scored, but it wasn't for lack of effort. Finally, the detention came to an end, and Lockhart called for a break. Harry took advantage and slammed the ball past the distracted Jim's defense. The Boy-Who-Lived let out a gasp of pain, and then fixed Harry with an angry glare.
"Well, gentlemen," said Lockhart. "This concludes your four weeks of joint detention. Slytherin Potter, although you are not an official member of Team Counterstrike, your progress at this game has been quite remarkable. If you are interested, I would like to formally invite you to the first meeting of the Hogwarts Dueling Club which is scheduled for December 18th. That is when I will reveal to Team Counterstrike the reason I've had them practicing this game since September. What say you?"
Harry nodded speculatively. "Assuming my schedule permits, sir, I'd be delighted."
"Good, good. Now, before you go, since this is our last session together, I do have one question. Was there ever a moment when it occurred to either of you that if the two of you got together, you could agree to play a nice, slow game and not try to score any points, thereby avoiding the Stinging Hexes completely?"
Jim eyes widened as the idea had never occurred to him. "Honestly, sir ..."
"Ten minutes into the first session, sir," Harry interrupted in clipped tones. "That's when I realized that the point of this exercise was to help me and Jim to get over our ... differences." Jim looked over at him in surprise. Harry sniffed. "It would have been obvious to any Slytherin, I think."
"Hmm," said Lockhart slowly. "And yet, you did not actually try to work with your brother to avoid getting stung."
Harry shrugged. "I made the mental calculation that avoiding a few minor stings wasn't worth whatever other aches and pains I'd suffer from trying to get along with Jim, even for just one hour a day. Is there anything else, sir?"
Lockhart shook his head no with a slightly saddened expression, and the two boys left. Outside Jim called out to Harry.
"So you actually knew the first night that Lockhart wanted us to work together, and you actively chose not to?" he asked. "Do you really think it's that impossible for you and me to work together?"
Harry turned and stared at Jim for a few seconds before speaking. "I hate you. I hate you. I wish you'd stayed with the Dursleys and died," he quoted in a flat monotone voice.
Jim blushed and looked away, unable to meet his brother's gaze. "That was the Occlumency book talking. I ... I would never ..." He trailed off helplessly.
"Was it the Occlumency book last Christmas when the Mirror of Erised told you your fondest wish was that I'd never been born?"
"Harry..."
"No, stop it. It should be obvious even to a lunkhead Gryffindor like you that we're never going to be brothers. We're never even going to be friends. If we try very, very hard, it may be possible for us to not be enemies. To that end, I propose the following. You go your way, and I'll go mine. We don't talk to one another except when required by class work. We don't even exchange Christmas cards. Does that work for you? Good."
And with that, Harry turned and walked away without even giving Jim a chance to respond. The other boy stood there for several seconds before wiping his thumb and forefinger across his eyes and then heading the other way towards Gryffindor Tower.
Thirty Minutes Later...
"Ten minutes into the first session, sir," Harry interrupted in clipped tones. "That's when I realized that the point of this exercise was to help me and Jim to get over our ... differences." Jim looked over at him in surprise. Harry sniffed. "It would have been obvious to any Slytherin, I think."
"Hmm," said Lockhart slowly. "And yet, you did not actually try to work with your brother to avoid getting stung."
Harry shrugged. "I made the mental calculation that avoiding a few minor stings wasn't worth whatever other aches and pains I'd suffer from trying to get along with Jim, even for just one hour a day. Is there anything else, sir?"
"FREEZE!" said Lockhart firmly. At that, Harry and Jim both froze as solid as statues. Carefully, Hermione, Ginny, and Penelope Clearwater walked over to study the Potter Twins while Luna remained next to Professor Lockhart. The first three had clearly never been inside a pensieve before, as they were still amazed at the idea of walking around in one of someone else's personal memories. Hermione, in fact, felt oddly uncomfortable, as if she was in some way invading her best friend's privacy by viewing him in this manner. Luna seemed blase, though whether because she was familiar with pensieves or simply immune to their wonder was her secret alone.
"Well, Miss Lovegood, what are your immediate thoughts?" inquired the Professor.
"Well, Jim's big wrackspurt is smaller, but it's still there. And each of their nargles still hate the other's. Harry was right. They would never have worked together in the way you suggested. I think it would take a matter of life or death for them to ever willingly cooperate."
"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione interrupted. "Why exactly did you want us to watch your memory of Harry and Jim playing ping-pong?"
"Oh, it's not my memory, Miss Granger. It's Miss Lovegood's. I had her sitting in the back watching under an invisibility spell. I wanted to see what you could detect when looking through her eyes."
All three girls looked around the room. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary," said Ginny. "Sorry, Luna," she added apologetically.
"Don't apologize just yet, Miss Weasley. Come over here." Ginny moved to where Lockhart directed. She was now facing the wall and standing roughly even with Jim Potter. "Now, keep facing the wall but slowly shift your eyes to the left. Look at Jim Potter but just out of the corner of your eye."
Ginny did as directed. Then, she gasped and shook her head. "Whoa!" she exclaimed.
"What?" asked Penelope. "Please don't tell me you saw a nargle."
"I ... don't know what I saw, but just for a second, there were these ... things both around Jim and ... I think inside him too!"
One by one, the other girls took turns looking at Jim from the same vantage point, and both had the same reaction. Hermione actually looked slightly ill after her first visual encounter with what Luna insisted were nargles and wrackspurts. She couldn't see anything well enough to give a description, but something was definitely there. Something ... disturbing.
"And you see these things all the time?" she asked Luna with a hint of urgency. The girl nodded pensively as if she knew the things she'd taken for granted her whole life were unsettling to her friends.
"And what are your impressions of those things that you can only see out of the corner of your eye?" Lockhart asked of the three girls.
None of them spoke at first. Finally, Ginny did. "It felt ... unnatural. I'm sorry, Luna, but it was like we were seeing something ... something that wasn't meant to be seen."
"Quite possibly an accurate impression," Lockhart said. "I have felt the same. And if that impression is correct, then future study may be curtailed. But until then, we shall persevere in the manner of the best Muggle scientists and investigators. Between now and our next session, I want all four of you to meet up a few times and brainstorm. How is it possible for Miss Lovegood to see these things but not the rest of us? What phenomena might allow us to see them in her memories but only indirectly? What is the source for this feeling of dread that we all feel when viewing these things merely out of the corner of our eyes? Science and magic! Both MARCH ON!"
Lockhart finished dramatically with his fist up in the air in a dramatic pose. The four members of Team Mysterioso simply stared at him until he sheepishly brought his arm back down.
"Ahem. Anyway, before we break for this week, there's one other matter. Miss Lovegood, you indicated previously that there was something wrong with Harry Potter as well as his brother. Can you give us any more impressions of the elder Potter to evaluate over the next week?"
Slowly and guardedly, Luna walked over to the frozen memory of Harry Potter and studied his face carefully. "No," she finally said. "I can't see it."
"So there's nothing wrong now..." Lockhart spoke but Luna interrupted him.
"No, I mean... it's there but ..." She turned and looked at the others in frustration. "It's not letting me see it! I can only see the big gaping hole left by its absence!"
The others all stared at the girl who had a deeply troubled look on her face.
"Well, that's not creepy at all, is it?" said Ginny, surprising Hermione who had not expected the younger girl to have mastered Harry's brand of sarcasm so quickly.
16 December 1992
4:00 a.m.
Cassius Warrington awoke with a start. Sitting up in his bed in the Fourth Year Slytherin dorm, he looked around for a few seconds and then noticed the envelope lying on his pillow next to where he'd been sleeping. On it were only two words: "A Friend." Warrington shuddered. He knew none of his dorm mates was his mysterious "Friend," and it was supremely unnerving that someone could sneak into his dorm room and leave a message so easily. Summoning a small Lumos to read by, Warrington opened the envelope. The letter from inside was succinct.
TOMORROW AFTERNOON
Warrington grinned in anticipation.
17 December 1992
4:30 p.m.
Harry was not enjoying the afternoon's Quidditch practice at all, and neither were his fellow Slytherins. The temperatures had fallen quite a bit below freezing, and there were light snow flurries, harbingers of the blizzard that was scheduled to hit the school later that night. But Flint was insistent that the team get in at least one cold weather practice before the end of term. They were playing Ravenclaw in February, and from experience, Flint knew that game would be bitterly cold. Even he agreed, however, that the practice should be cut short when the snowfall picked up enough to hinder visibility. The seven Slytherin players flew to the ground and jogged to the locker rooms for a hot shower and a change of clothes before dinner.
As invigorating as the hot shower was, Harry rushed to get through with it as quickly as possible. Despite all the confidence he'd developed since coming to Hogwarts, he was still well aware of how small and underdeveloped he was compared to the Sixth and Seventh Year students who made up the bulk of the team. And while his teammates were generally diplomatic enough not to comment on his various scars, he still knew that they could see them. Besides, with his glasses off and in a steam-filled shower, Harry was half-blind, a state which always left him edgy and paranoid. And so it was that Harry was, as usual, the first out of the shower. He quickly took a towel from the table next to the shower entrance and dried himself off before wrapping it around his waist.
For once, his timing was impeccable, as a loud crack made him jump. Simultaneously, all of his teammates in the showers yelped in shock as the hot water suddenly turned ice cold, and the stove heater in the corner went out. Confused and unable to see through his own blurry vision, Harry made his way over to the lockers. But his eyesight wasn't so bad that he was unable to see what had happened. The lockers containing all the boys' clothes (both Quidditch gear and regular clothing), their wands, and even Harry's expensive new glasses were now gone. And in place of the lockers were letters written on the wall in glittering gold and fiery red.
ENJOY YOUR RUN BACK TO THE CASTLE
HOPE YOU DON'T GET FROSTBITE
GRYFFINDORS RULE
SLYTHERINS DROOL
As Harry rubbed his eyes trying to bring the blurry world around him into focus, the rest of the Slytherins gathered around him, each pulling towels around them more tightly as the temperature in the room began to drop noticeably. Draco, wearing one towel around his waist and another over his head and shoulders, moved next to Harry to better read the words inscribed on the wall. Harry turned to him with a sardonic expression.
"Well, Malfoy, you're going to look awfully silly running all the way back to the castle to get all our clothes."
Draco was not amused.
Fifteen minutes later, having exhausted all other options and fairly certain that no one at the school would notice their absence before they froze to death, the seven Slytherins wrapped themselves up in towels as best they could and then took off for the quarter-mile hike back up to the castle through six inches of snow and freezing conditions. Harry fell twice and had to be helped back up by the two Beaters. By the time they made it to the front doors of the castle (the side entrances judged too far given the weather), all seven were shivering violently from the cold. The good news was that the doors to the Great Hall were closed for the evening meal and the hallway was almost deserted. The bad news was that "almost" included Caretaker Filch, who was on them almost immediately and shouting incoherently.
"WHAT IS THIS?! HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE CASTLE THIS WAY!" he bellowed at the group.
"We're n-not de-defiling anything, you old fool! Th-th-this is us nearly fr-fr-freezing to death!" stammered Flint through chattering teeth as he tried to push his way past Filch before the Caretaker's shouting summoned a crowd. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough. The doors to the Great Hall opened and several Gryffindors came through, including Jim, Ron, and Colin Creevey. Ron was apparently trying to sell Jim on the idea of letting Creevey take his pictures for some sort of fan club to improve the tarnished reputation of the Boy-Who-Lived when he noticed the Slytherin Quidditch team standing in the foyer wearing nothing but towels and practically blue with cold.
"HEY EVERYBODY!" the red-headed Gryffindor yelled at the top of his lungs. "THE SLYTHERIN TEAM'S GONE STREAKING!" From inside the Great Hall, there was the sound of students getting up to see what the commotion was about. Despite himself, Jim laughed at the sight. Meanwhile, Ron nudged Colin, and the boy raised the camera he seemed to carry everywhere and began snapping photos of the embarrassed Slytherins.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Flint yelled for his team to head to the dungeon while he stayed behind to divert Filch ... and make a few threats against Creevey if those pictures ever saw the light of day. Following his commands, the six Slytherins ran off, the sounds of laughter, whistles and cat-calls from their fellow students echoing behind them. Miles Bletchley actually slipped on some wet floor and lost his towel for a few seconds, leading to even more laughter. Minutes later, the team entered the Slytherin Common Room, where they were all surprised to find the missing locker waiting for them in the middle of the room. A few Housemates were present and wondering what a gym locker was doing there ... until the half-naked Quidditch team entered, a sight which heartily amused some of the Snakes until threats of violence from the Beaters wiped the smiles from their faces. Harry quickly opened his own locker and was relieved to find his wand and his new glasses on the top shelf where he'd left them. Among the other students present were Missy Bulstrode (who didn't even try to resist ogling the team members) and Cassius Warrington.
"I suppose there's a logical explanation for this bit of ... exhibitionism," he asked, suppressing a smirk.
"Aye," said Peregrine Derrick angrily. "Some Gryffindor tossers stole our clothes and wands and left us to bloody freeze to death!"
Warrington snickered and began walking around the locker while the Quidditch players were pulling their clothes out and heading up to their dorms.
"Say, Bulstrode," he said from behind the locker. "Come have a look at this."
The prefect followed Warrington behind the lockers. Out of curiosity, Harry followed as well, his interest in finding out who was responsible for his predicament overriding his embarrassment about his attire (or lack thereof). On the back of the freestanding metal lockers, someone had drawn a fairly impressive set of interlocking runes. Harry had no idea what they meant as he wouldn't start Ancient Runes for another year, but he knew Missy was in the Seventh Year Runes class and also Lockhart's rune-intensive study group, Team Backdoor. He looked at her expectantly and was not disappointed. After studying the runes for a few seconds, she smiled maliciously.
"We've got'em," she said with a grin. "Warrington, go find Snape."
"Why me?" he asked petulantly.
"Because you've got pants on, idiot. Now go!" Warrington made a face and then headed towards the door.
"What is it, Missy?" asked Harry.
"This rune-scheme is from Team Backdoor. There's only seven of us on that team ... and only one Gryffindor. And since we're all working on different but interconnected projects, I can recognize who had this sequence. I knew it was only a matter of time before the Weasley Terrors would take advantage of what we were learning for some stupid prank."
Harry started to say that George and Fred wouldn't have done anything like this, but then he remembered about their lost map which they'd blamed on Slytherin House, not to mention the way Slytherin pummeled them in their last Quidditch match, and he figured that, yes, they very possibly might have done something exactly like this. "So much for the safe list," he thought ruefully. Harry ran to get dressed so he could return before Snape arrived. Over the next half-hour, everyone on the Quiddith team had gotten another hot shower, changed into dry clothes, and been force-fed Pepper-Up Potions and cups of hot herbal tea to prevent them getting sick. Missy had reviewed her own notes with Professor Snape and made a copy of the runes on the back of the locker prior to Snape vanishing it back to the locker room.
Finally, he was ready to hear what the team members had to say. Almost to a man, they blamed the prank on the Wesley Twins. The only dissenter was Harry told the group what George and Fred had told him about someone stealing George's project notes from the Gryffindor locker room during the November 7th match.
"After what the Terrors did to you, you actually defend them?" Warrington said incredulously.
"I'm not defending anyone, Warrington. I'm merely relaying what they told me. If it was the Terrors, they undoubtedly think it's payback. After all, both pranks involved Quidditch locker rooms and theft of personal property. It would have been ... poetic for them to have done this. But if it wasn't them, it wouldn't surprise me a bit for someone in another House to prank us and frame them, and vice versa. Probably a Ravenclaw. They're only twenty House points behind us, so they've got a motive to put us and the Gryffs at each other's throats. I mean, if I were ever inclined to get into a prank war, I'm pretty sure part of any prank I played would be to frame someone else for it. Anyway, I assume you can compare the runework on the locker with George Weasley's work and that of the rest of the Backdoor members so we'll soon know for sure."
"Such investigations will be attended to first thing in the morning," said Snape firmly. "For now, hold off on any retaliation. And certainly do nothing to embarrass the House such as descending to the level of ... a prank. If you wish to avenge yourselves on Gryffindor House, you will have your chance to do so later this evening during the Dueling Club session. However, you will do so the proper way – by demonstrating your dominance of the dueling floor and not through childish hooliganism. Am I understood?"
The Slytherins grumbled their acquiescence and then headed to the kitchens for a quick, late supper before the dueling club meeting started. Harry, in particular, had someone he was planning on dominating on the duel floor. In fact, as he thought back to the Git laughing at his earlier embarrassment, Harry wasn't really planning on dominating ... so much as crushing.
The next chapter will be posted on Friday, January 22, 2016. "The Dueling Club," which would have been a part of this chapter except that real life intruded and anyway, I didn't want a 14k chapter.
AN1: A few minor corrections were made to the last chapter thanks to kind reviewer "badgerlady." Mainly to do with British parliamentary procedure.
AN2: As was noted previously, this chapter was supposed to be called "Pranks and Duels" and carry us through the first Dueling Club meeting. That part of the chapter, however, I couldn't get finished enough to edit, and I don't want to start putting out 14k chapters or people will get mad when I go back to my usual 6-8k output. So I put the Dueling Club material off to next week and added a few additional bits to fill out this chapter (specifically, the Skeeter article which I only added today and the Hermione/Snape scene which was going to come later but I bumped it up just to balance wordcount).
AN3: The usual Luna tropes are either that Luna is crazy and there's no such thing as nargles OR that Luna is a seer of some description who interprets her visions in the form of invisible creatures. My subversion is that the things she sees are real (for some definitions of "real") but that only she can see them ... and that being able to see them is quite possibly a bad thing. A clearer explanation of what's going on with Luna is forthcoming.
AN4: Thanks to reader "Dan" whose review of last chapter yielded one of my favorite comments since I started writing this: "I see very little in this growing tale of yours which I outright hate." I want that on a T-shirt.:)
AN5: This post goes up on a sad day, as I'm sure you all know. When I write for Voldemort, I hear Ian (Emperor Palpatine's) McDiarmid's voice rather than Ralph Fiennes. When I write for Dumbledore, for some reason I hear Ian McKellan's voice rather than either of the two fine actors who played him on screen. But I've never heard anyone's voice other than Alan Rickman's for Snape, and I never will. Reading over his lines in this chapter and hearing Rickman's voice in my head made his passing strike home for me in a way that it didn't just from reading the news reports. Rest in peace, Severus Snape. Rest in peace, Alexander Dane. Rest in peace, Marvin the Paranoid Android. And so many others.