HARRY POTTER
AND THE DEATH EATER MENACE
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 14: Back to School (pt 3)
26 August 1993
8:30 a.m.
The Tonks Clinic and Personal Residence
As the sun beamed through the kitchen windows of the Tonks household, Theo No-Name sat down for breakfast with his de facto guardians and their daughter. The boy had been made well-aware of young Nymphadora's antipathy for her given name, but it was impractical to call her "Tonks" around the house since everyone else who lived there had the same surname, so she finally gave him permission to call her "Dora," Ted's pet name for her. Andromeda usually insisted on calling her "Nymphadora" and in fact seemed to derive a minor but perverse pleasure from doing so. But while the Tonkses had been nothing but welcoming since his arrival, Theo was aware of the growing tension in the household. Ever since the Azkaban breakout, Dora had been put on inactive status with the aurors, and based on the news reports, it was to some extent because of him. Theo's own ex-father had been the one to suggest in front of the Wizengamot that the family's charitable act of welcoming an outcast like him into their home suggested something nefarious. Combined with the family's blood relationship to several of the escapees and the probable involvement of Metamorphmagi, the residents of Hogsmeade had been giving the Tonks Clinic the evil eye for weeks now, and the number of patients Ted and Andi saw had dropped noticeably. Theo felt sure that the Ultimate Sanction was only making things worse for them all.
Just as the Tonkses and their summer guest were tucking into their morning meal, their house elf Iris popped into the room bearing an envelope.
"A letter has arrived for the young master by owl post. It says it's from Hoggy Warts." The tiny creature handed the letter to Theo.
"Thank you, Iris," he said before opening the envelope with some trepidation. Good news had been on short supply this summer.
To all Hogwarts students,
It has come to the my attention that many of our students have expressed difficulty in studying effectively within the individual Houses due to the school's current communal dorm structure. It has been suggested that by requiring all students of the same year to share a single common dorm room, Hogwarts has deprived its student body of the benefits of privacy and solitude necessary for academic progress. While I am mindful of the importance of tradition, and particularly traditions dating back to the time of the Founders, I am nevertheless committed to exploring every avenue to improve academic performance. And so, with the permission of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, I have instituted a pilot program for the coming school year. Beginning this September, the dungeon level that previously housed all of the Third Year Slytherin students will instead be divided into separate private rooms for each individual student. The academic progress of the Third Year Slytherin class will be compared at the end of the year with both the other three Houses and with prior Slytherin exam results, and if there is noticeable improvement, this program may be expanded in coming years to the rest of the student body. Room assignments will be provided to the affected students at the Welcoming Feast, at which I look forward to seeing you all once again.
Until then, I remain
Prof. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft
Theo read through the letter twice before sharing its contents with the Tonkses. "It seems I'm getting a private room this year, along with all the other Slytherins in my class." He frowned. "I don't know if that's good or bad. On the one hand, I won't have to share a room with people who might want to do something to me in the night. On the other, I won't have any witnesses if people break into my room to do something to me in the night."
"I'd focus on the former, Theo," said Andi drily. "Pessimism is rarely helpful. But just to be on the safe side, I'll provide you with a few nasty but non-lethal wards I learned from the Black family grimoire."
"Will the Doctors Tonkses be requiring anything further for breakfast?" Iris asked.
"No, Iris," said Ted. "Everything was excellent as usual. Oh, and I wanted to let you know. Professor Snape will be sending a house elf by later to pick up a package of potions. Andi and I may be out doing some house calls when the elf arrives. The package is next to the floo and is marked with Snape's name."
"Iris will tend to Professor Snape's elf when he arrives," the elf said before popping away.
"Maybe I ought to have one of you give me a refresher course in potion brewing," Dora said disconsolately. "My auror career is over before it began, I think."
"You'll get through this, sweetheart," Ted replied. "They'll catch those escapees and prove you had nothing to do with the escape."
The girl snorted but said nothing.
"And either way," said Andromeda, "sitting around here mooning over your problems won't accomplish anything, Nymphadora. Go out and do something with all this free time you have. Think of it as a vacation."
Dora stood up from the table angrily and headed for the door. "Unpaid involuntary leave is not a vacation, Mother! AND DON'T CALL ME NYMPHADORA!"
Soon after, the front door of the Tonks Clinic opened and then slammed shut. Theo winced.
"She really hates that name, doesn't she?" he asked the girl's parents.
"She does indeed," Andromeda answered with a mischievous smile. "That's the reason we never let her even try to have it changed. She's still at the age where she needs to rebel about something. An embarrassing name gives her something to rebel against in a way she won't regret later."
Theo took that in without comment. He found the answer unconvincing, but then he also knew that the Ministry made it surprisingly difficult to change one's name through legal means as opposed to magical. If some kind of magical effect resulted in a name change, it was automagically altered to the new name on most legal documents bearing the original one. But changing a name non-magically was a lengthy process.
"If you don't mind my asking, why did you name her Nymphadora anyway? I'd understand if she'd been named after a heavenly body since that's a Black family tradition, but Nymphadora isn't a star or constellation or anything. And I know it's not a Muggle name."
Andi smiled again, this time looking downright devious. "If I tell you, will you swear never to tell her the truth?"
"ANDROMEDA TONKS!" Ted exclaimed with surprise. "You promised!"
"I promised I'd never tell her. And to be honest, I've born the brunt of her hatred of that name a lot more than you have, dear husband."
Ted said nothing, but he looked surprisingly embarrassed and petulant as Andi turned back to Theo.
"She was supposed to have been named Callisto Theodora Tonks. Callisto was a nymph from Greek mythology, and one of Jupiter's moons is named for her. Theodora is the name of Ted's grandmother who is also his namesake. Unfortunately, while I was spending seventeen hours in labor giving birth to our little bundle of joy, Ted was overcome with nerves and accidentally took too many Calming Draughts. When our daughter was finally born, he was so addled that all he could remember was something about a nymph named Dora which is what ended up on the birth certificate. I sent my very first wandless hex at him when I found out, but then I decided we'd just keep it as it was. I thought it would be character building."
"Character ... building?" Theo asked in confusion.
She nodded. "When people won't respect the name you were born with, you learn to make them respect you for yourself."
Theo nodded slowly at that as he wondered if she'd meant her words to apply to his own situation. He picked up the Hogwarts letter to read it again.
Later that afternoon ...
Iris was busy dusting in the parlor when a soft pop heralded the arrival of another house elf.
"Good afternoon. Dobby greets you on behalf of his master, the Great Harry Potter. Dobby is here to collect some potions which were being sent for by Potion Master Snape."
Iris studied the other elf with remarkable intensity for a house elf. "Dobby, is it? Iris has heard tell of the ... exploits of the one called Dobby." She walked over as if to examine the other elf who swallowed deeply and let his ears sag noticeably.
"Iris was given to understand that the Dobby elf was ... unwell." Her tone seemed to indicate distaste, and it was clear that she had wanted to use a word even less flattering than "unwell." Dobby quailed for a few seconds before straightening his back and returning Iris's gaze without flinching.
"Dobby was indeed ... unwell. But Dobby is recovered now. Dobby is a good elf."
Iris stepped even closer and then inhaled deeply as if taking in Dobby's scent. The other elf grimaced slightly. Finally, she took a step back.
"Iris conditionally approves."
Dobby relaxed. "Dobby is grateful and will strive to be worthy of Iris's approval."
The female elf said nothing. She merely snapped her fingers, and the package flew from the next room into the parlor and Dobby's waiting hands. He bowed to Iris and raised his hand to snap his own fingers. But then, he paused and gave a somewhat pained expression.
"Iris," he said. "Please forgive Dobby's impertinence, but Dobby could not help but notice the signs. Is Iris's time ..."
"Yes," she interrupted quickly but calmly. "Very soon, Iris thinks. Iris cannot see the shape of it but ... yes, very soon."
Dobby bowed again but more slowly and with much deeper respect, and his face assumed an unreadable expression that somehow mixed sadness with awe. "Dobby wishes Iris good luck."
She nodded but remained silent, and without another word, Dobby was gone.
From a letter received by Rita Skeeter and written in disappearing ink...
Rita,
As per usual, this letter will self-immolate once read completely, so take notes as you go. Below is all the easily available information pertaining to Dolores Jane Umbridge. As you may realize after reading this letter, there may be some less easily available information about the subject, but think hard before you ask me to dig into it. Some skeletons are best left buried.
Subject was born in 1955 to Orford Umbridge (Pureblood but not of any Noble line) and Muggle Ellen Cracknell (ostensibly – see below). Has one squib younger brother, current status unknown. The Muggle apparently had some family history of mental illness, and Orford divorced her in 1963, returning to the Wizarding world with his 8-year-old daughter in tow. Somewhere along the way, Orford also suffered an injury (possibly curse damage) from an unknown source which impaired both his intelligence and his magical ability, but several school friends managed to get him a minor sinecure at the Ministry "overseeing the Ministry house elves," as if they actually need an overseer. Ellen Cracknell died in a Muggle mental institution in 1970, and the squib boy was raised by relatives on his mother's side. There are no records of him after he left Muggle primary school. In 1989, Orford's condition deteriorated to the point that he could no longer maintain even the pretense of employability, and Dolores had him placed in a home in Dorset for indigent elderly witches and wizards who lack the financial resources for either in-house nursing or permanent in-patient status in St. Mungo's. Despite the meagerness of his current circumstances, Orford's continued care takes up a substantial portion of Dolores's Ministry income. I'm told she still visits him regularly.
Subject was sorted into Slytherin in 1966 and graduated in 1973 with 7 OWLs and 5 NEWTs: Charms, Magical History, Muggle Studies, Ancient History, and, somewhat surprisingly, DADA, though her only O's were in the two history courses. She then started work in the Ministry Archives while pursuing a Mastery in History of Magic which she abandoned before completion. She eventually obtained a permanent job in the Archives (specifically the Educational Records division) which she held for seventeen years before her recent promotion to Undersecretary.
Subject is, to be blunt, a frumpy spinster with only one major romantic involvement I'm aware of. From 1975 to 1976, she was engaged to Jack MacMillan (of the Noble MacMillans, though he's a poor cousin whose family is estranged from the current seat-holders). Three weeks before their marriage date, Jack MacMillan was killed (along with 26 others) in the April 1976 werewolf attack on Diagon Alley. Poor Dolores saw the whole thing, and while she wasn't injured herself, she spent several weeks in the St. Mungo's mental healing ward. Undoubtedly, this experience is the source of one of the two major political affiliations that she has pursued over the last twenty years: Dolores is a dues-paying member of Witches Against Lycanthropic Killers (WALK), a minor advocacy group that agitates for hardline policies against werewolves, regardless of their criminal records or other dark affiliations.
Subject's other political affiliation is a bit more provocative. From her Second Year at Hogwarts until the group's dissolution in 1978, Umbridge was an outspoken supporter of the Slytherin Solution Society, which advocated that Magical Britain adopt the so-called Slytherin Solution for how to treat Muggleborns and Muggle-raised Halfbloods like herself. Specifically, they wanted the government to take magical children out of Muggle homes at the first sign of accidental magic, memory-wipe the parents, and foster the magical children out to fully-magical homes. Needless to say, it seems being raised by the mentally ill Ellen Cracknell Umbridge had a powerful impact on young Dolores. I received the Society's newsletter myself for many years, though I was never a full member and never interacted with Umbridge through it. The SSS was shut down in 1978 because its views were considered "Death Eater sympathetic" which was nonsense. The SSS wanted to rescue Mudbloods from their filthy Muggle parents and give them a decent upbringing, not exterminate them like the Death Eaters wanted. Regardless, Umbridge's enthusiastic support for the SSS was a minor black mark on her Ministry record which likely kept her from advancement though she has never been accused of either Death Eater sympathies or even any incidents of blood purism.
So that's the official report. Now we get into the realm of rumor and suspicion. You see, I have yet to hear any plausible explanation of how Orford Umbridge managed to suffer nearly-crippling curse damage while living among Muggles with a Muggle wife and family. And here's another thing, when he was a Seventh Year, Orford (a Slytherin) was romantically linked with Ardella Selwyn (of those Selwyns). Shortly after graduation, Orford and Ardella both disappeared from Magical Britain for some time. About two years later, Ardella apparently turned up dead in a Muggle hospital, but the Selwyns hushed up all the details. Then, years later, Orford shows back up with an insane Muggle wife and two kids before getting rid of the wife and the squib child. I wouldn't presume to speculate with anyone but you, deary, but from the timing, it certainly seems possible that Dolores might actually be the child of Orford and Ardella, with the latter dying during childbirth and the former marrying the Muggle to conceal Dolores's parentage from House Selwyn. Or perhaps the truth is even stranger and more horrible. This is the Selwyns we're talking about, after all.
If you want me to dig into that cesspit, Rita, we'll need to get together to discuss remuneration. Exploring the Selwyn family history calls for hazard pay, I should think.
Eleanor
29 August 1993
10:00 a.m.
Longbottom Manor
Harry sat in an overstuffed chair in the Longbottom parlor as he reviewed the letter he'd received from Hogwarts about the new private room assignments, only occasionally glancing over to the fireplace as he waited for Lady Augusta to floo in from the Ministry's International Portkey Station with Neville in tow. The boy bit his lower lip in nervous anticipation – Neville had been one of his closest friends since the very start of his Hogwarts schooling. It was a friendship he'd thought would never die, one so important to Harry that, at the age of eleven, he'd called upon Neville to be his "moral compass," to act as the one person who Harry would listen to if the other boy thought he was approaching some line that should not be crossed. But Theo No-Name had been another of Harry's closest friends and for nearly as long. And despite his considerable skill as a young Occlumens, it tied Harry's stomach in knots to think that Neville would probably hate Theo now, and that he might well hate Harry as well unless Harry went out of his way to reject the other boy.
Suddenly, there was a loud "whoosh" and a gout of green flame that heralded the arrival of Neville and Lady Augusta. Harry did a double-take. Apparently, Africa had been good for Neville. The boy had grown a good three inches, it seemed, and he would probably be the tallest student in their year. The last of his baby-fat had melted away, replaced by some obvious muscles, and his hair had grown out into a rakish shaggy mop-top that Harry suspected most of the girls in their lass would find adorable. For a second, Neville simply looked at Harry. Then, he stepped forward and pulled Harry into a bear hug.
"I've missed you, Harry," Neville said. "I missed you a lot." Then, he released the hug and stepped back. "I've got a lot to talk about. I want to tell you all about my summer. But you first. Anything exciting happen with you while I was gone."
Harry pasted on his best fake smile as he tried not to think about the collection of Death Eaters locked away two floors below them, three of whom were responsible for brutally torturing Neville's parents to the point of insanity, as well as Professor Snape's recent bombshell that Barty Crouch Jr., the fourth attacker, might still be alive somehow. It was weak evidence, consisting entirely of Rabastan Lestrange's hazy and distorted memories of a visit by Barty's parents to see him in Azkaban just a day before his death, but it was enough to warrant further investigation.
"Nope," Harry lied effortlessly. "My summer's been completely, 100% boring. Just ... incredibly dull."
Meanwhile, outside Grimmauld Place ...
With the soft sucking sound of twisted space, the Black Brothers apparated into an alley just across from 12 Grimmauld Place. Immediately, Sirius stumbled and Regulus swiftly caught him to stop him falling down.
"I'm alright!" Sirius said irritably even though he was clearly out of breath and leaning heavily on a cane. Regulus looked at him doubtfully, but when it seemed clear that his older brother was in no danger of collapsing, he let go of Sirius's arm. With a few seconds of concentration, the Metamorphmagus altered his features into his current alias of Mr. Cato and then stepped out of the alley to make certain the area wasn't under surveillance. The house they grew up in might be unplottable, but James Potter apparently knew the general address, and since two members of House Black were among the Azkaban escapees, it was possible that there might be someone from the DMLE charged with monitoring the general area. Regulus certainly hoped that wasn't the case, as he and Harry had previously visited the house without any disguises at all, but so far, there had been no signs that they'd been observed.
Today seemed to bear that out, as Regulus saw no signs of wizards on the scene to monitor 12 Grimmauld Place. He returned to the alley and transfigured a nearby empty trashcan into a wheelchair. After a few moments of argument, Sirius grudgingly sat in it and allowed his younger brother to wheel him across the street and into the concealed townhouse.
Inside the foyer, the two stopped in surprise. Sirius hadn't known what to expect (though he certainly expected the worst), but Regulus had been here only a few weeks before and had seen firsthand the terrible shape of the house. He barely recognized it today. Decades of dust and cobwebs were gone, as was the hideous troll-leg umbrella stand. All the light fixtures had been replaced with new ones that were both brighter and more inviting than the ghoulish candelabras their parents favored. The blood-red carpets in the hallway had been removed in favor of brand-new ones in a tasteful creme. The nearly-black mahogany panels on the walls had been stripped and re-varnished with a lighter and much more inviting stain. Most surprising of all, however, was the fact that most of the wall on the right-hand side of the corridor had been torn down completely, providing an open floor plan for the main parlor which itself had been redecorated into a more modern and welcoming style. Regulus quickly realized that part of the missing wall included the section where Walburga Black's portrait had been hanging during his last visit. As soon as the two made it through the door, Dobby popped into view and stood before them in his little black three-piece suit, his arm clasped behind his back in a respectful pose.
"Good morning, Masters Regulus and Sirius," he said cheerfully. "Welcome back to 12 Grimmauld Place. Dobby hopes that his efforts to prepare the house meet with your satisfaction."
"So far so good," Regulus said. "It's remarkable to see the change after just a few weeks. Thank you for your work, Dobby."
"Didn't there used to be a wall there?" Sirius asked in confusion.
"There was indeed, sir," the house elf replied. "Dobby regrets to say that he was unable to overcome the permanent sticking charm which affixed the portrait of your late mother to the entryway wall. However, upon investigation, Dobby realized that it was not a supporting wall and so it was a simple matter to ... renovate the problem. Madame Walburga's portrait has been moved to the attic along with a five-foot-long section of the original wall that contains it. If you wish to speak with..."
"Sweet Morgana's Tits, NO!" Sirius interrupted.
Regulus frowned at his brother's outburst and then turned his attention back to Dobby. "Your work appears exemplary, Dobby. Is the rest of the house in as good a shape?"
At that, Dobby looked somewhat pained. "Regrettably not, Master Regulus. Dobby has managed to thoroughly clean and repair most of the main floor and most of bedrooms on the second floor, including the same bedrooms that you and Master Sirius used when you resided here and a third bedroom for the Great and Powerful Wizard Harry Potter. However, Dobby is still in the process of cleaning and repairing the rest of the house. In particular, Dobby was hesitant to address the condition of either the basement, the master bedroom suite, or the library without yourselves on hand. The wards and curses on those areas are ... excessive, and Dobby lacked confidence that he could easily bypass them, particularly since Dobby is not truly a Black elf and thus is not fully attuned to this property."
"Couldn't you get Kreacher to help?" Sirius asked gruffly. "Regulus informs me that the little monster is still alive."
Dobby wrinkled his nose slightly. "The Kreacher elf still lives, sir, but Dobby must reluctantly report that for the last few weeks, the Kreacher elf has split his time between hiding in the cupboard under the sink in the kitchen and residing in the attic where he loudly begs forgiveness from the portrait of Madame Black for failing to," Dobby paused and coughed delicately, "protect the house from infestation by blood traitors, as he puts it. Regardless of his current location, he is usually to be found intoxicated on butterbeer and thus of little aid to Dobby."
Regulus crooked an eyebrow. He remembered Dobby from their encounter in the Prince's Lair, and the transformation of that cringing little thing into the hypercompetent elf before him was in some ways more impressive than what Dobby had achieved with the house.
"That's alright, Dobby. Leave Kreacher to his own affairs for the time being."
"Unless you find him doing something he shouldn't," Sirius interjected almost merrily. "In that case, you've got my permission to kick his little arse."
Dobby nodded as if accepting that order while Regulus shook his head. "Sirius, I'll remind you that Kreacher is my house elf."
"I'm sorry. Who is the current Lord Black?" Sirius replied smugly.
Regulus rolled his eyes, as Dobby came forward to take control of Sirius's wheelchair. "With your permissions, sirs, Dobby will now escort you to Master Sirius's rooms. Dobby has already retrieved your prescribed potions from the Tonks Clinic. They are waiting for you upstairs." He hesitated. "While Dobby took the liberty of renovating the house where it seemed warranted, he has made no changes to your bedrooms beyond cleaning and replacing linens. Accordingly, the prior wall decorations are still in place, including those of a ... scandalous nature."
"It's alright, Dobby," Regulus said with a long-suffering sigh. "I'm sure Sirius is thrilled that his Farrah Fawcett posters are still in place."
"How the hell do you know who Farrah Fawcett is?" Sirius asked in surprise. "Or was? I have no idea whether she's still alive."
"She was last I'd heard," Regulus replied. "And I believe I'd mentioned that I spent quite a long time in the Muggle world, Sirus."
"Yes, but with no details, Little Brother. Since we'll be cooped up here in Hell House for a few days at least, I look forward to hearing all about your Muggle adventures. I'm sure they're hilarious."
Minutes later, Sirius was laying comfortably in his old bed in a room practically coated in Gryffindor crimson save for a few twenty-year-old posters of various scantily clad Muggle pin-up girls plus an equal number of posters depicting various Muggle motor bikes. Regulus was honestly surprised. He had not been in this room since before Sirius left. After their mother had blasted Sirius off the family tapestry, he'd assumed that she would scour this room down to the floorboards and sheet rock, but apparently she'd simply locked it up and forgotten about it instead. He summoned a chair from downstairs and sat down next to the bed.
And once seated, Regulus realized he had no idea what to say. He did not want to discuss everything he'd been up to since fleeing Britain – way too many scabbed memories there to allow Sirius the chance to pick at them – but he was at a loss for what he could talk to Sirius about as a diversion. "Say, I hear you've been in Azkaban for a decade or so. How was it?" He decided to go for something safer. Marginally.
"So ... Dobby said that Mother's portrait was in the attic now. Do you want to see her at some point? Not now, I suppose, but later perhaps?"
The look Sirius gave him made Regulus flinch.
"I'd sooner poke my head up a nundu's arse. But you go ahead, Regulus. You were always Mummy's favorite."
"Not any more," Regulus said with a dry laugh. "I spoke with her portrait the night I came here to destroy the locket. She now considers me to be as much a blood traitor as you."
Sirius did a double-take. After a few seconds though, he regrouped. "Well, look on the bright side. At least she didn't live long enough to Crucio you."
"I know," Regulus said quietly. "I remember that night."
The older brother looked away and blushed slightly. "Did she ... how did they treat you? You know, after I left?"
"Okay, mostly. Soon after you departed, Grandfather Arcturus summoned us to Chevenoir to ... well, discuss it isn't the right word. But he pretty much terrified Mother and Father out of doing anything to me. He also forbade them both from trying to harm you any further. It's the only time I can remember seeing either of them frightened." Regulus paused. "That was also the night he told me about the Codex. How, um, how old were you when he ...?"
"Eleven," Sirius said with some bitterness. "When I came home for Christmas break. I had nightmares for weeks and couldn't talk to anyone about it. Not that I'd have said anything to Mother and Father. I imagine they'd have tortured me for information about forbidden magic to give to You-Know-Who if they'd known."
Regulus sat quietly for a moment before speaking again. "Sirius ... when you spoke with Grandfather about the Anathema Codex ... did he ... did he tell you anything about ... Mother and Father?"
Sirius looked at him crossly. "Tell me what? That they were a pair of psychotics? I'd known that since I was four."
"Yes, but did he tell you ... why? About what he'd done to them?"
Sirius just looked at him in confusion. Regulus sighed and then took a deep breath before starting.
"Alright, we'll try this another way. Have you ever heard of a group called the Order of the Unbroken Chain?" Sirius's expression indicated he had not. "It's obscure knowledge. The Unbroken Chain was a hard-core blood purist group – or perhaps cult would be more accurate – that operated in the mid-18th century until the Ministry shut them down. They represented the worst parts of Death Eater views on blood supremacy dialed up to 11."
At that last comment, Sirius looked outright perplexed, and Regulus realized to his surprise he'd actually used a Muggle expression that his Muggle-loving brother didn't know. "Oh yeah," he thought. "Sirius was in Azkaban when Spinal Tap came out. I wonder if we can get a VCR in this house without it bursting into flames."
"Never mind," he said aloud. "Let's just say they were really extremist about blood purity. So much so in fact that they didn't want their children breeding outside their extended families. At all."
Sirius shuddered at the implications. "Okay, gross. But what does that have ... to do ... with..." He paused and gave a look of disgust. "Oh no. Don't tell me."
Regulus nodded. "Mother's precious family tree had some inaccuracies. She and Father were actually first cousins, a relationship that while barely legal in some Muggle cultures should have prevented the two of them from getting married because it's close enough to interfere with the magical potential of children. Which, apparently, it did." He paused. "Did you know that we both have, or rather had, an older brother?"
Sirius shook his head silently, his eyes wide.
"According to Grandfather, his name was Polaris Black. He was born a few years before you, severely deformed and mentally ill. Grandfather was ... evasive on what happened to him. But his birth revealed the truth of Mother's ancestry. And so, to prevent scandal and ensure that he had at least one viable grandchild to inherit the Lordship, Grandfather forced our parents to take a potion called the Morgause Philtre that had been used by the members of the Unbroken Chain to prevent the effects of inbreeding. Children born under the effects of this potion will be perfectly healthy and usually above-average in magical potential ... but the parents would be cursed somehow. With our parents, the curse took the form of insanity."
Sirius stared at his younger brother for what felt like an eternity. Then, he called out. "Dobby!"
Instantly, Harry's elf who had been temporarily seconded to House Black appeared. "You called, Master Sirius, sir?"
"Yeah, be a pal and fetch us a two bottles of butterbeer from wherever Kreacher's been hiding it." Dobby nodded and popped out. Sirius turned back to Regulus.
"Honestly, I'd ask for firewhisky if I wasn't on medication. Why ... why would you even tell me all that?" Sirius asked almost reproachfully.
Regulus shrugged. "I know it will be hard for you to be stuck here where you have so many bad memories. I thought maybe if you knew the truth, well, you might not be able to forgive Mother and Father, but you could at least ... understand them, maybe?"
Sirius said nothing. When Dobby returned with two butterbeers on a silver platter along with Sirius's afternoon potion, both brothers were silent still.
Meanwhile ...
The aurors who greeted Buck MacMillan were somewhat surprised at the wizard who arrived at the Ministry's International Portkey Arrival Station. They had been told to greet a foreign dignitary at his arrival and conduct him to the Leaky Cauldron to freshen up (and recover from taking a portkey from the opposite side of the globe). They had not been told that said "dignitary" would arrive not only dressed as a Muggle, but apparently as a Muggle cowboy complete with jeans, boots, a sheepskin coat, and a cowboy hat.
Auror Proudfoot stepped forward to greet the new arrival. "Mr. MacMillan, welcome to London. On behalf..." was as far as he got before Buck held up a hand to silence him before calmly walking past him to the admissions desk where he spent nearly twenty seconds vomiting into a trash can before pulling a red handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiping his mouth.
"Blimey," he finally said. "That was a helluva trip!" He looked around the roomful of shocked aurors before pulling out his wand and scourgifying the contents of the trash can. "I don't suppose there's any chance that one of you blokes is carrying some breath mints, is there?"
An hour later, Buck had finally been checked into a room at the Leaky Cauldron where he took a moment to brush his teeth before allowing his escorts to convey him to St. Mungo's. Once there, it took only a few minutes of examining the addle-minded Gilderoy Lockhart to confirm his condition.
"Yep. That's Tabula Rasa, alright."
"You're sure, Auror MacMillan?" James Potter asked. Beside him were Aurors Shacklebolt and Proudfoot (the latter of whom still regarded the Australian dubiously).
"I'm not an auror anymore, Chief Potter," Buck replied. "I'm retired now. But I'm not so long gone from service that I don't recognize the signs of Tabula Rasa. Part of my job was confirming that the spell had taken hold after using it on someone sentenced to personality death."
James nodded. "So how did Gilderoy Lockhart learn it?"
"Well, if I had to guess, I'd say the Imperius Curse. Somebody who knew the Tabula Rasa used the Imperius on Lockhart and then had him permanently Obliviate himself." Buck glanced over at the youngest auror who seemed doubtful about his theory. "I assume you know that if you put someone under the Imperius, he can perform most any spell you know so long as it's at your command. The whole point of the nasty bugger is that it allows you to use your victim as a conduit for your will."
"Of course," said James, although Proudfoot's expression suggested it was news to him. "But it still needs to be someone who knows Tabula Rasa in the first place. Could it be an ex-auror from Australia?"
Buck looked back at Lockhart as he considered the question (which had the benefit of allowing him to avoid eye contact with the three British Aurors, just in case). "Nah," he finally said. "Every Australian auror who learns the spell has to swear an oath never to use it except in the performance of his duties. That includes even teaching it to someone who hasn't taken the oath. Even if one of our guys had gone bad enough to use an Imperius, he'd have lost his magic if he used Tabula Rasa on someone without a court-ordered Writ of Personality Death."
Then, he shrugged. "Still, at the end of the day, Tabula Rasa is just a charm. Once somebody puzzled out the arithmancy and runic patterns that allow it to be cast in the first place, it was only a matter of time before someone else reverse-engineered it."
"Can the personality wipe be reversed?" Shacklebolt inquired.
"No," Buck answered shaking his head. "The whole point of the thing was to provide a humane alternative to the death penalty so that wizards and witches could be spared the effects of acting as executioner. Since only the worst of the worst are supposed to suffer personality death, the Australian government has never been very interested in a cure. In fact, the design of Tabula Rasa was intended to be as permanent as we could make it."
Proudfoot frowned. "So there's no way it could be an Australian auror?"
"Absolutely not," Buck lied. After all, he was the one who exploited a somewhat egregious loophole to teach the Tabula Rasa to someone for whom the oath didn't take because he was swearing it under a false identity. Someone who Buck planned to have words with very soon. In the meantime, however, the group returned to James's office so that the Chief Auror could go over the case with his Australian visitor.
"So to sum up," Potter said, "we now think that someone spent most of the past year, if not longer, masquerading as Gilderoy Lockhart for the purpose of infiltrating Hogwarts. Most likely a Metamorphmagus but possibly someone using Polyjuice Potion for an extended period of time. That last theory seems unlikely to me. I can't imagine someone getting away with using a potion that had to be retaken constantly for the better part of a year and would have required them to keep the real Lockhart on hand the whole time to provide hair samples. It's theoretically possible but absurdly unlikely, I think."
James paused diplomatically. "Mr. MacMillan, I've reviewed your own personnel file that the Australian DMLE sent over. I know that Lazarus White was your son-in-law. I don't know if you've been informed yet since you're retired now but ... as part of Lockhart's confession, he claimed to have killed Lazarus White and disposed of his body somewhere in the Outback so that he could take credit for Auror White's work in taking down the Wagga Wagga werewolf pack. Obviously, we have no way to confirm that since Lockhart has no memories and, as you said, was likely under the Imperius when he confessed, but we have forwarded the rest of his confession to other DMLEs in jurisdictions he mentioned to compare with old case files. Everything up to the part about Auror White checks out. Lockhart did make it a practice to obliviate wizards and witches who had vanquished local monsters or dark wizards so that he could take credit for their good work. He claimed that he tried to do the same to your son-in-law who fought back, and Lockhart accidentally killed him. We have no reason to doubt that part of his confession either. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid your son-in-law is almost certainly dead."
Buck lowered his head and wiped his eyes, doing his best to convincingly fake grief. "Thank you, Chief Potter. I had resigned myself to losing Rusty many years ago, but it's still good to have closure."
"You're certainly welcome. While you're here, would you mind looking at some sketches we have of two possible suspects? It's a longshot, and as you said, it's possible that whoever was posing as Lockhart learned the Tabula Rasa from some other means, but I have to follow every lead I can at this point." With that, Potter pulled two artist sketches out of a file folder.
"These two people appear to be involved in the case in some capacity. The male calls himself Mr. Cato, and he supposedly was Gilderoy Lockhart's manservant and the inheritor of most of his wealth. The female called herself Maria Gambrelli, and she ... well, to be blunt, she seduced one of our aurors so that she could steal hairs from him for Polyjuice Potion."
Buck studied the two pictures and struggled not to bark out a laugh. "I swear, Rusty," he thought. "I'm going to kick your silly arse for this." He thought for a moment about how to proceed before answering.
"Well, I can't rightly say I've met them, but I can tell you who they are and where you need to be lookin'. The woman is a Muggle actress I think by the name of Elke Sommer, though she's a good bit older now than in this picture. I can't remember the name of the Chinese fella, but he's also a Muggle actor. They were both in a movie from nearly thirty or so years ago called A Shot In The Dark. And since most British wizards I've met have never been in a Muggle movie theater in their lives, I think that should tell you who to look for."
He gave Potter what he hoped was a triumphant look. "Muggleborns! You're looking for a group of Muggleborns. They're the only ones who might have seen the movie these two actors appeared in together. From America, I reckon. I mean, if they're really Metamorphmagi, there's no way they could be Brits what with the Conscription Act, am I right? But with the situation in America, it would be easy for Metamorphmagic to hide themselves."
And that was true. While the Muggle U.S. government represented the whole nation, Magical America was broken up into several competing government entities separated by fairly porous borders: MACUSA on the Eastern Seaboard, the Confederation of Wizards that pretended to control everything from the Mississippi River to the Pacific, and the Free States of Las Vegas, Chicago and Los Angeles, plus Merlin knew how many small cabals of unaffiliated hedge wizards and witches holed up in towns so small that the ICW had never even heard of them.
Potter nodded thoughtfully at that. "That's true. But why would American Muggle-born wizards want to break Death Eaters out of Azkaban?"
Buck shrugged. "Who can tell with the Americans? To gain access to dark magic from You-Know-Who's stash, maybe? Or perhaps revenge of relatives murdered by Death Eaters?"
"Well, maybe Mr. Cato can tell us. Now that we know he's probably a shapeshifter too, it's time we brought him in for questioning." James rose from his desk to send out a squad of aurors.
"No doubt," Buck said as he distractedly waved away a small bug that had been fluttering around his face. "And, um, while your taking care of your business, I need to take care of mine, so to speak. Can you direct me to the nearest loo?"
James laughed. "Certainly. It's down the corridor. First door on the left."
Buck thanked Potter for the direction and made his way to the men's inside, he checked to make sure he was alone before locking the door. Then, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the floor, his face a mask of pure annoyance. "EXPECTO PATRONUM," he whispered angrily.
Back at Grimmauld Place ...
The two Black brothers had been sipping butterbeers without talking for several minutes while Sirius absorbed Reg's revelation about their parents. Finally, the silence grew too oppressive for his younger sibling.
"Speaking of horrible family secrets," he said with exaggerated lightness, "Severus Snape mentioned that you tried to kill him when you were at school together. I don't suppose that's just a silly exaggeration on his part, it it?."
Sirius took another sip of beer while avoiding eye contact. "What did he say?" he asked in a low voice.
"That you tried to murder him in cold-blood at some point in the autumn of 1976. He said oaths he'd been forced to swear prevent him from saying anything more."
The elder brother barked out a laugh but still wouldn't make eye contact with his sibling. "He's exaggerating. It was ... it was just a silly prank that went wrong. He was never in any danger. And he'd have deserved it if he had gotten hurt or killed, the filthy snake."
"Sirius ...?"
"I've answered your question, Regulus. I do not wish to discuss Snivellus or his accusations anymore. Am I understood?"
Regulus paused with his mouth still open, surprised at his brother's forcefulness. "As you wish ... Lord Black."
Sirius snorted again and took another swig of beer. Silence reigned once more for a long moment before he spoke again.
"So how the hell did you become an Metamorphmagus at seven without me ever finding out?" he asked, changing the subject.
Regulus smiled bitterly. "As I recall, you did find out. Several times, in fact, over the years. And then Mother or Father would Obliviate you of the knowledge. That's why they never allowed you to take a Remembrall to school with you."
Sirius finally looked up at him with a shocked and somewhat hurt expression, but Regulus merely shrugged. It wasn't like he'd had any say in the matter.
"I've handled Remembrall's since then, though," Sirius objected.
"Over time, false memories blend in among true ones perfectly, especially if the alterations are well-crafted and the target had weak mental defenses. I think you were around ten or eleven the last time you had any knowledge of my powers, and you probably never handled a Remembrall until you were in the auror program or later. Typically, only the top-of-the-line Remembralls have any chance of detecting a false or erased memory more than seven years old, give or take depending on the skill of the wizard altering the memories, the age of the target, and the nature of the memories being altered."
"Uh-huh. But I think I'd know if our loving parents had Obliviated me on a daily basis. How could you have gotten training without my seeing the signs regularly?"
"Do you remember all those times I got shipped off to Aunt Cassiopeia for 'deportment lessons'? Like Aunt Cassie was the sort of person who had any business teaching deportment?" he said with a laugh.
"So Auntie Cassie was a Metamorphmagus too? Whatever happened to her?"
"Death, most likely. By which I mean I read her obituary back in '92 and that's when the tapestry says she died. But I faked my death so there's no reason she couldn't as well. When I last saw her the summer before I started Hogwarts, she was planning on moving to Marseilles to live as a man for a few years."
Sirius did a double-take. "Live ... as a man? You can do that? Change gender?"
"Yes. In fact, Auntie Cassie insisted that I learn the contraceptive charms for both men and women because it's apparently possible for a male Metamorphmagus to get pregnant if he has sex with another man while in possession of female anatomy." He grimaced. "Auntie Cassie indicated that such pregnancies ... didn't turn out well."
Sirius leaned forward and grinned. "So have you ... you know? As a woman?"
"What are you, twelve?" Regulus said irritably. He looked a way for a few seconds before turning back to meet his amused brother's gaze. "Alright, yes! When I was younger, I ... experimented. And what I learned from those experiments is that I am firmly heterosexual. I have nothing against anyone with different orientations, and I am perfectly capable of transforming into a woman and even seducing a man in that form, a skill helped get you out of Azkaban, I might add. However, I am only sexually attracted to women."
Sirius fought back a snigger, and Regulus gave him a sour look. "And anyway, dear brother," he continued, "it's not like you have room to be judgmental. As I recall, after Marlene McKinnon dumped you, you basically turned into a, oh what was the term that Father used? Ah yes – pansexual libertine."
At that, Sirius's smile faded instantly and his expression darkened. Immediately, Regulus realized that he'd crossed some line but had no idea what it was. After a few seconds, Sirius spoke again but in a colder voice.
"So, since you could look like whoever you wanted, did you ever find a face that could get you someone worth keeping?"
Regulus's own expression darkened at that. "I got married, if that's what you mean, Sirius. I was married for nearly four years. And had a son."
"Well what happened to them? Surely you didn't walk out of a wife and child to live the high-life as Gilderoy Lock...?"
"They died," Regulus interrupted swiftly. He didn't sound sad or angry. His voice was just ... flat. "They were both killed in a werewolf attack in 1985. I got there in time to hold my wife in my arms as she passed. Does that answer your question?"
Sirius looked as though he'd been slapped, and he felt as though he deserved to be. "Oh, Reg. I'm ... I'm so sorry. I didn't think..."
"It's okay, Sirius," Regulus replied in a soft voice. "It will be ten years next April. I realized pretty quick that I had to move on or else I would just wither away until there was nothing left. I chose the former. The past is ... in the past."
It was an ironic statement on Regulus's part, for at that exact second, a large Patronus in the form of a Flemish Giant Rabbit appeared on Sirius's bed, causing his older brother to give out an embarrassing yelp. The Patronus stared at Reg almost angrily before it finally spoke to him in a deep baritone voice with an Australian accent.
"Burn the Cato identity. Now! It's been made by the British aurors. And then, come see me tonight at the Leaky Cauldron, Room 4 at 10 o'clock. And for Merlin's sake, try to be discreet for once in your miserable Pureblood idiot life!"
Then, the enormous rabbit faded from view, and a shocked Sirius turned to his brother. "What the hell was that?!"
Regulus quickly rose from his chair and pulled out his wand. "Would you believe it was my father-in-law? Dobby!"
The house elf appeared at once. "Dobby," Reg continued. "I need to leave for several hours. In fact, I may not be back until late tonight. Please make sure my brother takes all his potions and that Kreacher ... well, that Kreacher stays the hell away from him."
"Reg, what's going on?" Sirius asked excitedly. "And for the record, I don't need a babysitter or a bodyguard!"
"You need both, brother mine. Your potions will keep you unconscious for several hours, and you're trapped in Grimmauld Place with a possibly deranged house elf who considers you a blood traitor."
"Begging Master Regulus's pardon," Dobby interrupted. "But Dobby seeks clarification. If the Kreacher elf becomes difficult, is Master Regulus authorizing Dobby to use lethal countermeasures."
At that, Regulus's eyes bulged out of his head, and he turned to look at Sirius whose own mouth was hanging open at Dobby's question. It was not the sort of language either of them had ever heard from a house elf.
"Um," Regulus finally said, "let's try not to kill Kreacher unless all other tactics fail."
"As you wish, sir," Dobby said with a bow.
Regulus shook his head and darted out of the room, ignoring Sirius's questions as he went. Once outside, and after checking to make sure he was unobserved, he apparated straight to Mr. Cato's room at the Novatel London Waterloo. There, he swiftly banished all of his Muggle clothing and possessions to his room at Grimmauld Place and then pocketed his Gringotts key, though he wasn't terribly worried about the aurors tracking his finances. He'd already converted all of Gilderoy Lockhart's remaining financial assets into British pounds ... followed by Italian lira, German deutsche marks, and finally American dollars before converting them back into galleons and depositing them into Regulus's personal Gringotts account. That left only the products of his time spent as Professor Lockhart of Hogwarts: his polyjuice potions, George Weasley's portkey notes, and all the rest, all of which he placed into a trunk which he shrank down and pocketed. With all signs of Mr. Cato's presence eliminated, Regulus prepared to apparate back to Grimmauld Place.
Just in time to feel the anti-apparation wards fall into place.
"Shit," Regulus said to himself in a moment of understatement.
Minutes later, a squad of five aurors led by James Potter made their way off the elevators and through the stairwell doors to converge on Cato's room. Along the way, they passed an older foreign-looking woman in a maid's uniform pushing a cleaning supply cart down the hall. They nodded to her as they passed, and she muttered something in reply that sounded Polish. Soon, they took up position on either side of the hotel room. There were wards on the door, but the aurors didn't bother to disable them, opting instead to put up a silencing ward and a Muggle-Repelling Charm before simply blasting the door off its hinges. The six wizards rushed inside to find a shocking surprise: the same hotel maid they had just passed lying unconscious on the bed. Cursing loudly, Potter directed his men back the way the came in pursuit of the woman who was apparently their Metamorphmagus quarry in disguise. They found the cleaning cart next to an open stairwell door, and Potter could hear another door up above opening onto the roof level. He and the aurors pursued.
Once out on the roof, they were witness to an unexpected and remarkable sight; a short elderly Asian man who a Muggle might have recognized as famed character actor Burt Kwouk ... and who was wearing a maid's dress whilst waving a wand around to examine the anti-apparation wards. As the aurors emerged, Mr. Cato (who was obviously more spry than he looked), dove behind a ventilation unit, dodging spellfire as he did.
"Give it up, Cato or whoever you really are!" James yelled. "The anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards extend for thirty feet in every direction! There's no way out!"
From behind his cover, Regulus grinned. "Thanks for the information, Potter," he thought to himself. Then, he swiftly poked his head and wand over the top of the unit. "AVIS OPPUGNO!" Instantly, a flock of ravens erupted from his wand to attack and harry the aurors, none of whom could get a clear shot off through the attacking birds. While the aurors tried to counter his spell, Regulus jumped up and sprinted towards the edge of the roof as fast as he could, and at the edge, he leaped over with all his might. After he'd fallen about twenty feet, he twisted his body around to face the hotel and pointed his wand straight at it. "VENTUS MAXIMUS!" In response, a powerful jet of air shot forth from his wand to strike the building. And as he'd intended, the reverse thrust propelled him away from the building even as he continued falling.
James fought his way through the flock of attacking ravens and reached the edge just in time to see Mr. Cato, still in a dress, blasting away from the hotel. He tried to fire a spell off, but before he could, the other wizard passed through the wards and instantly apparated away, leaving a furious Chief Auror behind.
Later that night at the Leaky Cauldron...
There was a soft knock on the door to Buck MacMillen's room. He opened the door to find a nondescript man in simple wizarding attire. Without any questions, the man ducked into the room, and Buck shut and warded the door behind him. He turned towards his guest with his wand still in his hand.
"Well?" he said irritably.
At that, Regulus concentrated and then shifted into the Lazarus White face he'd not worn in nearly a decade.
Buck snorted. "I'm surprised you didn't show up lookin' like Peter bloody Sellers."
Then, he took two steps forward and punched his son-in-law in the jaw! As Regulus staggered back, Buck also claimed his wand with a wordless Expelliarmus.
"OWW! What the hell, Buck!" Regulus hissed, spitting out blood from his split lip.
"That is for using Tabula Rasa without proper authorization," Buck said as he pocketed the other man's wand. "Now, I'm giving you exactly one minute to explain to me why you used Tabula Rasa on that Lockhart bloke before I either punch you again, drag you down to the DMLE, or both."
Fifty-five seconds later, Buck grudgingly handed back Regulus's wand while he absorbed what he'd been told. Horcruxes, a seemingly immortal dark lord, and a petrifying basilisk running amok in a school! He thought it was incredible but it all seemed true. For his part, Regulus was surprised that Buck knew what a horcrux was and that his own oaths even allowed him to discuss the matter with the older man. But in the years since Rusty White had left Australia, Buck had risen high in the Australian DMLE before his retirement. He had never served as Chief Auror, but he had been awarded what he described as level 13 clearance, which meant he had been given a general briefing on the Anathema Codex and its contents by agents of Division 13, the clandestine government organization that served the same function in Australia that the Unspeakables did in the U.K.
"I've never heard of Division 13," Rusty/Regulus said.
"Neither had I until they came calling because of an exceptionally weird case I can't talk about. But I helped them solve it, and in exchange, I got cleared to know about your weird evil book and the weird evil spells in it." With that, he healed the other man's split lip. "And now that we've got the formalities out of the way ..." Buck stepped forward again, this time to pull Regulus into a bear hug which the other man was happy to return.
"I've missed you, Buck."
"And I you, son. Now, sit down and tell me what the hell you've been up to all this time."
The two men talked until after midnight over cheap Australian beer that Buck had brought with him just for this occasion. Regulus briefed Buck on the true adventures that got fictionalized in Lockhart's books while Buck filled Regulus in both on everything that had happened with all his former friends in Australia and also with what he'd learned so far of James Potter's investigation. He agreed to stay in London as long as he plausibly could to spy on the auror investigation and divert it away from Regulus wherever possible.
At around 1:00 a.m., Regulus apparated back to Grimmauld Place, where Dobby was pleased to inform him that both Sirius and Kreacher were still alive.
King's Cross Station
1 September 1993 at 8:30 a.m.
The new school year had come at last, with Harry, Neville, and Lady Augusta traveling by floo to Diagon Alley and then taking a Muggle taxi to King's Cross Station. Since his return to Britain, Neville had been in a much better mood than when he left, though Harry had been extremely cautious to completely avoid the topic of Theo No-Name. Instead, he spent the few days before the Hogwarts Express peppering Neville about his experiences in Africa. To Harry's surprise, his friend had learned a great deal of theory about the Animagus transformation. Instead of practically criminalizing it as Wizarding Britain had done, the wizards of Africa placed a strong emphasis on all forms of self-transfiguration. Uagadou, Africa's preeminent school of magic, actually offered Animagus training as a popular elective, and Neville had been told that supposedly almost half of all African wizards and witches were Animagi (compared to the five or so out of the entire British population who voluntarily registered over the last century). This included several wizards who worked on his family's magical farms in Africa, many of whom he'd gotten to know and befriend. They had even offered to give him Animagus instruction, but he demurred due to British attitudes towards the gift.
Oh, and he'd also survived a nundu attack on the farm during his stay, though Neville asked Harry to not share that detail with his grandmother. Once he got over his shock, Harry agreed.
Unfortunately, Neville's mood wouldn't last. Almost as soon as the trio had passed through the barrier, Neville tensed up, and his face assumed an angry expression that Harry barely recognized on his normally affable friend. He soon realized why: further down the platform, a group students were gathered around Theo Nott. To Harry's surprise, several seemed to be interceding on his behalf against a larger group that had accosted him. For just a moment, the crowd parted just enough for Harry and Theo to see each other clearly. Harry inclined his head slightly in a way that said "Need some help?" Theo responded with a barely perceptible shake of his own head that meant he did not want Harry involved. Harry gave the slightest of nods in return and then turned to Neville.
"Come on. Let's get on the train and find a compartment." The two boys headed for the train without looking back at Theo No-Name.
As for Theo himself, moments earlier, he had been surprised at the tense situation in which he found himself. Inexplicably, it was actually a law of the Wizengamot that all children attending Hogwarts must ride on the Hogwarts Express, which meant that Theo and dozens of other children who already lived in Scotland nevertheless had to travel all the way to King's Cross in order to spend six hours on a train riding back. Accordingly, Nymphadora had apparated him and his luggage to the station before accompanying him through the portal. Once on the other side, she gave the boy a hug and then left him to board the train while she went to speak to some of the aurors on the platform. While she'd been aware that there would be a DMLE presence on the platform today, even she was surprised by the presence of a dozen aurors ... and one Dementor at the far end of the platform held in check by two aurors and their respective Patronuses. Somewhat oddly, everyone on the platform seemed intent on simply ignoring the Dementor except for its guards, but for some reason, Harry paused at the steps leading onto the train to look back at the hideous creature. And to Harrys surprise, the Dementor seemed to look straight back at him! Shaken, Harry hurried onto the train.
Unfortunately, Theo had no opportunity to observe that bit of oddness because as soon as Tonks had moved away, he had immediately been confronted by the Pureblood welcoming committee. Theo had expected a confrontation at some point with Warrington, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle, but he was surprised and somewhat shaken by the cross-section of Purebloods from other Houses that joined them. Zacharias Smith, Hannah Abbot, Ernie MacMillan, Cedric Diggory, and an extremely uncomfortable looking Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff. Cho Chang, Roger Davies, and Marietta Edgecombe from Ravenclaw. Oliver Wood, Lavender Brown, and (naturally) Cormac McLaggen from Gryffindor. Plus others that Theo didn't even know. There were nearly two dozen in all, and Theo thought they made a daunting presence.
"Can I help you?" Theo asked mildly.
Cho Chang nudged Roger Davies who stepped forward. Apparently, they had not decided on who would be the group's spokeswizard beforehand. "Harry would have planned this better," Theo thought idly. "Whatever this is."
Davies coughed to clear his throat and stepped forward. "We do not wish for help or anything else from you, Mr. No-Name. That is why we are here. It perhaps would have been better if you'd had the option of going to some other school. Maybe something will change and that will be possible later. Durmstrang might be a good fit for you."
Crabbe and Pansy laughed at that, but no one else did. By this time, a crowd of students from all Years (along with some parents) was gathering around to observe the proceedings. Suddenly, Theo began to regret communicating to Harry that he should move along and not intervene. The boy didn't want any of the people who were still friends to get caught up in the effects of the Sanction. But now, he realized that this was the largest group of people whose hostility had been triggered the Sanction that he'd been around at one time, and suddenly, a potential riot seemed a real possibility. He started looking around for the nearest auror in case things got hairy, but they all seemed more focused on their fear of Death Eaters flying down from the skies to attack while ignoring a potential lynch mob in the making.
"Regardless," continued Davies pompously, "on behalf of the entire Hogwarts student body, we are here to inform you that you are not welcome. Not among us. Not among any of our houses. Not among any decent people at Hogwarts. Stick to yourself. Or you'll be made to stick to yourself."
"What's that, Davies?" said someone else who was pushing his way through the crowd. It was an angry Bobby Lattimer. "On behalf of the entire Hogwarts student body?! Did I hear that right? One would think that if it involved the entire Hogwarts student body, then perhaps the Head Boy might have been notified." With that, Lattimer scanned the group, and he frowned at the Hufflepuff contingent.
"I suppose I might have expected this from Smith. But even you, Prefect Diggory?" he said accusingly.
Cedric blushed and suddenly looked uncomfortable with the situation, but then Cho Chang nudged him as if to provide moral support.
"Look, Bobby," he said almost apologetically. "I'm sorry it has to be this way. But it's got to be done."
"But why, Cedric?" implored an anxious-looking Susan Bones from the edge of the onlookers. Although a Pureblood, she was protected by the same magical protection that shielded her guardian, DMLE Director Amelia Bones, and she was horrified by how her fellow Hufflepuffs were acting. "Why does it have to be done? And what even is it anyway? Other than an angry mob frightening a thirteen-year-old boy for no reason!"
"But there is a reason!" exclaimed Pansy Parkinson. "He's an outcast. He shouldn't be in our world. He's ... unclean. Why, he's even worse than a Mud...!"
"Don't. Finish. That. Sentence!" Sue Li snarled at the bigoted Pureblood. Pansy actually flinched at the Ravenclaw girl's hostility. But before she could respond, another student stepped forward.
"I'm sorry," Anthony Goldstein said amiably. "I wanted to make sure I heard that right. You said Theo No-Name is ... unclean. I mean, all that's happened is that his father put some spell on him, and now you all say he's unclean. Really?!"
"Anthony, please," said Ernie MacMillan. "You're a Halfblood. It's not something you'd understand." At that, many of the Halfbloods present took offense, but MacMillan was oblivious to them.
"Oh, I think we all understand just fine, actually," Kevin Entwhistle said ominously as he moved to stand next to his friend Anthony and also next to a surprised Theo. Several other Halfbloods and Muggleborn in the crowd also moved closer, and Theo's "welcoming party" suddenly began to feel outnumbered.
"Why do you even care?" said Lavender Brown. "In addition to being an outcast, he's also a Slytherin!" Then, she quickly turned to Pansy. "No offense," she said apologetically, but Pansy just glared at her.
"First they came for the Slytherin outcast," Anthony recited, "but I said nothing because I wasn't a Slytherin outcast. Then, they came for the Hufflepuff Muggleborn, but I said nothing because I wasn't a Hufflepuff Muggleborn. I know how that story ends. A lot of us do, actually."
"I have no idea what you're gabbing about Goldstein," spat Cormac McCleggan.
"It's a riff on a famous poem by a Muggle named Niemöller," Anthony said in a strangely tight voice. Sue Li suddenly looked at him with concern. She knew what it meant when her friend got into a mood like his current one.
"My grandfather, Hershel Goldstein, taught me the original version when I was younger. He and my nana, Rachel Goldstein, are just Muggles so I doubt their wisdom would mean much to any of you esteemed people. But they've always given me a lot to think about." He smiled suddenly, and an odd gleam came into his eyes as he surveyed the Purebloods who had accosted Theo. "Wonderful couple, my Grandpa and Nana Goldstein. Do you know they've been together for fifty years now? They met on a train in 1943, and they've stayed together ever since."
"Yes, yes," drawled a bored Pansy Parkinson. "It sounds very romantic."
"Oh no, Miss Parkinson. No, no, no!" Anthony replied with seeming amusement as the gleam in his eyes grew more and more intense. "It wasn't the least bit romantic. You see, the train in question was on its way to Dachau."
It was not a true silence that fell on the scene, for it was still a busy train station full of people. Nevertheless, a frisson of shock and confusion passed through all those who heard the boy and understood his meaning. Sue Li gasped and put her hand over her mouth, while Kevin's head snapped around to look at Anthony in shock. Neither had ever known that their Ravenclaw friend was just two generations removed from concentration camp survivors. Justin Finch-Fletchley closed his eyes and pinched the brow of his nose with his fingers, his discomfort at getting dragged into the group of students who came to bully Theo increasing exponentially. The rest of the Muggleborn and Muggle-raised alike were stunned both the boy's comment and its significance to the present scene. The Purebloods, on the other hand, simply looked around in bafflement, both at Anthony Goldstein's words and everyone else's reaction to them.
"I'm ... sorry, Mr. Goldstein," said Cedric Diggory hesitantly. "I'm afraid I don't know what that means."
Anthony's smile grew colder, almost turning into a sneer. "Of course you don't, Mr. Diggory. You're a Pureblood!" And with that, he turned and put his arm around a surprised Theo No-Name before escorting him away from the mob. "Come on, Theo. Can I call you Theo? It's apparently the only option. Anyway, I insist you sit in our compartment. Say, have you ever tried rugelach?"
Susan Bones, Sue Li, and several other students followed behind Anthony and Theo. Kevin stopped and looked back to Justin, crooking an eyebrow as he did. For several seconds, Justin's face showed his conflict before he finally sighed deeply and separated from the group he'd reluctantly joined to follow the one that was now leaving.
"Justin?" Ernie MacMillan called out.
"Sorry, Ernie," he said apologetically. "I'm just ... sorry." Then, he shrugged his shoulders before running to catch up to Kevin. "Stupid Hufflepuff loyalty," he muttered to himself as he went.
Once aboard the train, Harry and Neville made their way to the back where their group usually congregated. Neville was still tense, but Harry was more relaxed. He'd spoken with Theo over the summer, and they'd both agreed it was unwise for Theo to force a confrontation with Neville until Harry had better gauged how deeply the Sanction was affecting him. Harry had also surreptitiously observed the scene involving Theo that had played out on the platform. He was surprised but pleased to see Theo walk off under the apparent protection of a group of students sympathetic to his plight. Given the number of people who seemed to have come to the outcast boy's defense, Harry was already revising his plans for how to best help Theo in the coming year.
Inside the compartment, the two boys found the majority of their regular cohort. Hermione was giving Amy Wilkes some pointers on Second Year Transfiguration, Blaise was sitting off by himself working on a crossword puzzle, and Luna was intently reading a paperback book. Harry craned his neck to read the cover. It was Exploring the World of Lucid Dreaming by some Muggle psychologist he'd never heard of.
"Lucid dreaming?" Harry inquired.
"Um-hmm," Luna replied dreamily without looking up. "Hermione got it for me. I told her I'd been having odd dreams that kept me from sleeping well but that I couldn't recall when I woke up. She said this might help."
"Okay, but what is lucid dreaming?" Neville asked.
"First things first," Hermione said as she jumped up and gave the boy a hug. "It's so good to see you again! I've missed you both this summer. And Neville, you never responded to my owls!"
Neville shrugged sheepishly. "Gram wanted me kept incomm... um."
"Incommunicado," Harry said idly as he stowed his carry-on bag.
"Yeah, that. She was paranoid about Death Eaters."
"Sensible, I suppose," the bushy-haired girl said as she sat down. "And to answer your question, lucid dreaming means that you know when you're dreaming and can therefore shape the environment of your dreams. It helps with nightmares and also lets you remember dreams more clearly when you wake up. Now, tell me all about your summer. I know nothing about wizarding Africa."
Neville nodded in some confusion at both her explanation and her change of topic. Then, he looked around the compartment. "Sure, but first, who's missing?"
"Ginny's running late," Amy said. "Apparently, it's a family tradition."
"Ah, there they come now," Harry said pointing out the window at the platform, which was nearly empty except for an excited gaggle of red-headed children (plus Jim Potter who was struggling with a large container of some kind) running for the train which was minutes from departing. Everyone in the compartment chuckled at the perpetually tardy Weasleys.
Except for Blaise.
"Ginny's the last then. I already wrote Theo last summer and said I didn't want him sitting with us." The group's laughter died instantly.
"Why would you do that?" Hermione asked quietly. Blaise didn't even look up from his crossword puzzle.
"Because he's under the Sanction, and anyone who hangs out with him will get treated like garbage. So I dumped him."
No one spoke. Neville stared intently at Blaise, who finally looked up and noticed his expression.
"What, Longbottom? I'm a Slytherin. And an especially slimy one, according to some people in your House. I'm not going to maintain a relationship that would be social poison. That would just be silly." The Gryffindor didn't respond, but Blaise smiled at him anyway. "And honestly I don't see why you're getting mad at me. At least I've got an actual reason to shun the boy."
Neville's face flushed, while Hermione looked back and forth between the two anxiously, not knowing how to respond to this unanticipated exchange. And then, things got weird.
"Ooo! Shiny!" Luna exclaimed as she practically jumped out of her seat with excitement.
"Um ... what?" Harry asked as the others simply stared at the girl.
"Neville's fury-flies! They're all shiny, almost metallic. And purple!" she paused and narrowed her eyes as if to study something in the air around Neville that only she could perceive (which, as Hermione and Harry knew, was actually the case). Despite himself, Neville looked around nervously, as if searching for imaginary insects crawling on him. Luna tilted her head.
"Or maybe they're indigo," she muttered. "I should probably invest in a color chart or something like that."
"I'm nearly certain I'll regret this," Blaise drawled. "But what do metallic indigo fury-flies signify?"
"Oh, I have no idea," Luna replied without taking her eyes from an unnerved Neville Longbottom. "I've never seen any before today, but the train platform was simply crawling with them." She tapped her lips with her forefinger as she thought. Then, the girl took a deep breath.
"THEO NO-NAME!" she practically shouted at Neville, who jumped slightly in response. Luna's eyes widened in marvel as she studied the air around him. "Fascinating," she said in a soft voice before reaching for her bag to pull out a journal with the word "Mysterio!" written on it in bright rainbow colors.
Everyone simply perplexed at her actions except Hermione, who frowned instead.
"Luna," she said disapprovingly. "What have I told you about experimenting on your friends?"
"That only through the scientific method can we truly comprehend the world around us," Luna replied as she began writing notes on her observations.
"No," Hermione said. "Well ... yes. But I meant the other bit."
Luna looked over at her in surprise and then blushed herself. "That it's unethical to use my friends to research nargles and wrackspurts and everything else without informed consent?"
"That's the one."
Luna looked at Neville contritely. "I'm sorry. I apologize for taking advantage of your condition for experimental purposes."
"That's ... okay," he said slowly, still confused about what just happened.
Then, all of them jumped when the doors to the compartment slid open and a breathless Ginny practically burst in and fell into a seat between Amy and Luna.
"Honestly! I'm a twelve-year-old girl! How is it possible that I was ready to leave an hour before all the boys in my family?! Not to mention, we had to go back to the house at the last minute because the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Late forgot something he just couldn't do without!"
Ginny looked around and finally noticed everyone's expressions. "What did I miss?" she asked.
"I couldn't even begin to explain it," Harry said. "Out of curiosity, what did Jim forget that was so important?"
Ginny favored him with a long-suffering expression. "Would you believe his snake!"
Meanwhile two cars down...
Jim Potter was somewhat nervously holding court in an overcrowded compartment containing himself, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. With a bit of a flourish, he removed the cover to the box he'd been carrying to reveal a glass terrarium containing a two-foot-long snake with brown and yellow scales.
"This ... is Steve," he said as he looked up at his Gryffindor friends trying to gauge their reactions.
"Is he poisonous?" Katie Bell asked nervously.
"No. He's a California kingsnake. Completely non-poisonous and completely docile unless someone really tries to provoke him. Kingsnakes are one of the most common snakes owned as household pets in America."
"Cool," Dean said with a smile. Jim relaxed as the rest of his friends crowded around somewhat excitedly, any fears about him being the Heir of Slytherin forgotten for the time being.
"How long have you had him?" Seamus asked.
"About a week," Jim said. "He was a late birthday present from my parents."
Actually, Jim thought that Steve was a late birthday present from his mother which she had presented to him a week before. Meanwhile, his father stood beside her holding perhaps least convincing smile Jim had ever seen on a human being before heading off to his private office from which he did not emerge until late that night. Still, Jim finally got his pet snake, and he wasn't going to look a gift reptile in the mouth.
"I bet it will be fun," Alicia Spinnet said, "finally having someone else you can speak Parseltongue with."
Jim glanced at Ron sitting beside him as the boy swallowed and tugged at the collar of his jumper. "Yeah," Jim said with a mischievous smile. "That will be nice."
Sometime later ...
The excitement over Jim's new pet snake died down eventually, and talk soon turned to Quidditch, as Oliver insisted on outlining his plans for the season. If anyone present knew about Oliver's membership in Theo No-Name's "welcoming committee," no one raised the topic. After an hour or so, the door opened, and Percy popped his head in.
"Sorry to intrude," he said. "George, it's time for the Prefect Meeting." George nodded gravely while Fred rolled his eyes and Lee Jordan snicked softly. George frowned at them both before rising to follow Percy down the hallway.
"So how has Fred been treating you?" Percy asked.
"Eh. He's a little standoffish, but he's coming round," George replied.
"Is he?" Percy said while trying to hide a smile "You might want to check your badge then."
Frowning, George looked down at his chest and then twisted the badge around so he could read the words now emblazoned on it. "Big ... Head ... Prefect?"
Percy clucked his tongue softly. "Not as imaginative as I'm accustomed to. Can I assume that you were the one responsible for coming up with the quips and verbal humor?"
George blushed slightly. "When we put the spellwork together, it was supposed to say Big Head Boy. You know, back when we assumed that you were going to be Head Boy." He grimaced at the intended butt of his and Fred's jokes. "Sorry, Percy."
Percy seemed not to even notice the apology. "Big Head Boy. Yes, that is rather clever, I suppose." He turned and smiled at the younger twin. "Sorry you didn't get to use it."
George shook his head and tried to use a Finite on the altered badge to no avail. Percy pulled his own wand.
"I know from well-honed experience that it generally requires multiple Finites to undo a prank pulled off by you and Fred. On three." The boy counted off before he and George fired off simultaneous Finites, and with a flash, the message on the badge changed back to read "5th Year Gryffindor Prefect."
"Thanks, Percy," George said distractedly.
"It's okay, George. He'll come around." George nodded and a few seconds later, they were at the very first compartment on the train. Percy opened the door to the Prefect's Compartment and strode in confidently. George followed only to stop as all the other Prefects stared at him and the badge he wore in shock. Sure, the letter they'd all received had said George Weasley would be the 5th Year Gryffindor Prefect, but they'd all assumed it was just another Weasley prank they'd somehow pulled on the school's Prefect Announcements letter. None of them actually thought it had been true.
"Hi there, um, fellow prefects," said George as he surveyed the compartment before giving a nervous wave.
There was a long horrified silence that only ended when 7th Year Slytherin prefect Titus Mitchell let out an extremely vulgar string of expletives.
Meanwhile ...
After a few hours with his friends catching up on their various summer adventures, Harry decided it was time to stretch his legs.
"If you guys don't mind," he said, "I'm stepping out for a bit. I need to touch base with Adrian Pucey about some Quidditch matters."
"You planning on seeing anyone else while you're out and about?" Neville said in an oddly cool voice.
Harry shrugged. "You never know who you'll bump into. It is a fairly small train, after all." Then, he stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him, with Neville watching intently the whole time. Meanwhile, Luna was watching Neville just as intently while making sketches in her journal.
"Fascinating," she muttered again under her breath.
From there, Harry casually made his way from the rear of the train towards the front, stopping from time to time to drop in on friends, allies, and acquaintances too important to ignore. Daphne needed reassurance that their family alliances were still strong and that Harry wasn't going to do something silly over the Theo No-Name situation. Milly Bulstrode needed reassurance that she'd get a fair shot at Beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team now that it was official that Derrick and Bole's parents had revoked their Quidditch privileges. He passed by another compartment where the two of them were sitting morosely, and they both gave him foul looks as he did.
Eventually, he finally found Adrian Pucey, the new Quidditch captain, who was already itching to talk plays. The team had lost Flint who was technically returning as as "Eighth Year" but would be ineligible for Quidditch. However Graham Montague was quite talented (though not in Harry's league) and eager to get back on the team now that his grades had improved enough to please his parents. If they could get the Beater and Seeker situations resolved, the Slytherins might still be able to field a strong team. Meanwhile, in response to Harry's discrete hints, Pucey bluntly admitted that he had no particular aversion to Theo No-Name as his family was not affected by the Sanction, but neither did he have any particular fondness for the boy he barely knew nor any desire to endanger his standing in Slytherin House over the matter. He also advised Harry that both Graham Montague and Cassius Warrington, the only two plausible candidates for Chaser, were from Noble families and would likely be hostile to Theo. Harry thanked Pucey for his honesty and then left to continue his journey towards the front of the train.
As Harry entered the next car, he saw his twin coming from the other direction.
"Hey, stranger!" Jim said with a smile.
"Please, we talked by Floo two days ago," Harry replied easily. "It's not my fault you spent most of your summer learning kung fu in Nepal or whatever."
Jim laughed. At that moment, a compartment door opened up, and Theo poked his head out. "Harry?" he stage whispered.
Harry looked around and saw that no one was watching, and then he and Jim entered the compartment that Theo was sharing with Anthony, Kevin, both Sues (Li and Bones), and a few other Muggle-born and Muggle-raised students. Harry was somewhat surprised to see Justin Finch-Fletchley among them and looking rather tense. Harry popped out his wand and used the Color-Changing Charm to tint the windows black before sitting down.
"Well, I see you've made some new friends, Theo," he noted.
"And I see you are unwilling to be seen in the same room with Theo, Potter," Susan Li said with asperity.
"Easy, Sue," Theo interrupted. "It's okay. Me and Harry talked over the summer. We're good."
"Or as good as things are going to get once we're both in the Slytherin dorms," Harry said while making a face. "I've been doing a headcount on who all is affected by the Sanction. It's probably just under half of the student body, but when you add in the number of kids who will stay neutral to avoid conflict, it will be a lot more. And a clear majority of the Slytherins will either be affected or unwilling to side with you even if they're not affected."
"Good thing, you've got a private room, at least," Anthony said to Theo.
Harry smiled smugly. "Yeah, that was clever of me, wasn't it."
"You set that up?!" Jim exclaimed with a grin.
Harry nodded. "I actually got the idea from something you'd said about how Ron, Seamus, and Dean put up a dividing wall in your dorm room last year after everything thought you were the Heir of Slytherin. With the layout of the Slytherin dorms, I realized it would be simple to set up private rooms, so I wrote to the Headmaster about it. Apparently, the Hogwarts house elves can make fairly significant modifications to the interior structure of the school when asked to do so by someone with sufficient authority. Or possibly just someone who asks them nicely. He was vague about that."
He turned to Justin, who still seemed lost in thought. "And I must say I'm glad to see you here, Justin. From what I saw, it looked like you were on the other side during that confrontation out on the platform."
Justin blushed but then shrugged instead of saying anything.
"It's okay," said Susan Bones. "He made the right choice in the end."
"Well, I had to." The Muggleborn swallowed painfully, as his throat was suddenly very dry. "My grandfather fought in the War."
"The War?" Jim asked. "What was a Muggle doing fighting in a wizarding war?"
"He means World War II," Anthony said quietly. "A Muggle conflict."
Justin nodded and looked over to the other boy. "He was an officer in the 11th Armored Division – the Black Bulls. He was there when they liberated Bergen-Belsen. He never talked about it when I was growing up. My Mum said Grandad never talked about it with her when she was growing up either. But after my First Year, once I'd learned what the word Mudblood actually meant, I asked him about what he saw. It was horrible. Almost fifty years later, and he still was remembered how those poor people ..." He shook his head to clear it. "Anyway, after what you said out on the platform. I just couldn't stay on that side. It would have been like betraying him, like ... letting him down."
Kevin reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "It's okay, Justin. You made the right decision in the end."
"Yes," Justin said dejectedly. "I just don't know how long I can keep making the right decision."
"What do you mean?" asked Anthony.
"The Wizengamot," Harry said softly. Justin looked up at him sharply. Then, he gave a mirthless laugh.
"Of course. It figures if anyone would know ahead of time, it would be you."
"I don't know any details," said Harry. "Just things I've put together in my head."
"What are you two talking about?" asked Susan Bones.
"Well," Justin said to the group, "it turns out that I'm not just a Muggleborn. I'm also the first wizard in a long line of squibs that descend from a now dormant Noble family. One with no living Pureblood or Halfblood descendants but which hasn't been struck from the lists yet. And one open-minded enough to allow Muggleborns who can prove their squib lineage to inherit everything in the absence of a proper heir. At some point this year, I'll be sworn in as Lord Conditional and will have to swear oaths of loyalty to the Wizengamot before I can receive my inheritance."
"And when you do, the Sanction will affect you just as strongly as it does MacMillan, Parkinson, and all the rest," said Theo. "It's okay, Justin. I don't blame you for it. Honestly, I don't even blame them for it. My father ... my former father is 100% at fault."
"Thank you, Theo," Justin said sadly. "I just hope you feel the same a year from now."
Later still ...
The Prefects Meeting was only just wrapping up when everyone noticed with great surprise that the Hogwarts Express seemed to be unexpectedly slowing down. Bobby Lattimer pulled out a gold pocket watch that had once belonged to his father's father, a Muggle train conductor who had been awarded it on the day of his retirement. Bobby's parents had refurbished it (and added an enchantment to make sure it was always accurate) before gifting it to him when he became Head Boy.
"We can't be pulling into the station," he said. "It's far too soon."
"What have you done now, Weasley?" Titus Mitchell said accusingly.
"Honestly, Mitchell," George replied with some annoyance. "I'm flattered that you think Fred and me are diabolical geniuses on par with Dumbledore himself. But we didn't do anything to the Prefect's letters, I didn't mug somebody else and steal their Prefect's badge, and we certainly aren't clever enough or stupid enough to muck about with the Hogwart's Express."
"Enough, both of you," snapped Penelope Clearwater, the new Head Girl. Percy opened his mouth to speak but then shut it as soon as she glanced in his direction. They'd talked over the summer about the fact that she was Head Girl and he was not, as they'd been expecting, Head Boy. She'd asked him if it was going to be "weird," and he gallantly assured him that it would not. But now that they were here together wearing their respective badges, Percy was finally confronted with the fact that his girlfriend technically outranked him in the Hogwarts organizational tree, a fact which did indeed feel weird.
Meanwhile, Bobby opened the door and stepped out into the corridor before casting the Sonorous Charm. "ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS. THIS IS THE HEAD BOY. AS YOU'VE NOTICED, THE TRAIN HAS STOPPED PREMATURELY. DO NOT BE ALARMED. ALL STUDENTS SHOULD REMAIN IN THEIR COMPARTMENTS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."
Back in the last car, Neville looked out the window and noticed it was growing quite cloudy and dark outside. Everyone was muttering questions, but none of them knew what was happening. Luna looked around the room with a quizzical expression before shrugging, pulling out her wand to cast a quick Lumos, and then returning to her book.
Amy shuddered. "It is just me, or it getting colder in here."
"It's not just you," Hermione said. "I think I'll head forward to find a prefect and see what's going on."
"Hermione," said Neville with some frustration. "The Head Boy just said we were to remain in our compartments."
"No," she responded as she grabbed her bag and opened the door. "He said we should remain in our compartments. Obviously, that was meant as more of a suggestion than a command. And anyway, I'm a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors rush in!"
"That's. Not. A. Compliment!" Blaise spat through gritted teeth.
"No matter," Hermione said cheerfully. "We're still all on the Hogwarts Express. I'm sure it's perfectly safe whatever's going on." And with that, she was out the door. Blaise gave an exasperated sigh before following her.
"Coming, Longbottom?" he said.
"But ... they just said to stay in our compartments!" Neville said again in frustration.
Blaise shrugged. "So they did, for all the good that does us. Oh well, you can stay here if you wish. If there are any problems, I'll look after our Hermione myself. I'm sure your presence would be completely superfluous."
With that, the Slytherin sauntered out of the compartment. After he left, Neville squeezed his eyes shut and then banged the back of his head against the cushioned headrest in frustration. "Dammit," he muttered as he rose to follow the other two. Amy and Ginny looked at each other for a second before standing up as one. But before they could take a step, Neville whirled around on them with an angry expression and a single finger pointed in their direction.
"No!" he barked, and the intensity of his gaze paralyzed the two girls. Then, he jabbed his finger in the direction of their seat, and the two girls dropped back down onto the bench in unison. Satisfied, Neville turned and strode off in the direction of Hermione and Blaise. For her part, Luna didn't even seem to notice that anyone had left.
Nor did Luna or either of her two year-mates notice the patterns of frost that were quickly growing across the surface of the windows.
Near the front of the train, Harry and Jim had also ignored the Head Boy's instructions and stepped out into the open corridor. By now, there was a thick spiderweb of frost on the train windows, and the cloud cover outside was so dark that it seemed like twilight rather than midday. Instantly, both boys noticed that they could see their breath from the cold.
"What's causing this?" Jim said nervously as he tried to look through the frosty window. Suddenly, Harry grabbed him by the arm.
"At a guess," he said in a sudden fright, "I'd say it's probably that."
Jim turned in the direction his brother was pointing and then gasped in terror. At the entryway to the train car was a tall figure in a tattered black robes. A hood totally covered its face and its sleeves were long enough so that its hands could not be seen. Nevertheless, both boys knew at once what it was – a Dementor.
"You shouldn't be here," Harry called out with far more confidence than he felt. "The train was searched before anyone boarded it. There aren't any Death Eaters here."
The Dementor said nothing but instead floated towards the two boys in silence. As it moved closer, the area around it seemed to turn black, as if the shadows it cast had come alive and were slithering along the walls in its wake. The air grew ever colder, and the windows closest to the creature were soon caked in frost. From somewhere in the distance, Harry heard the soft chittering of a doxie and perhaps a very faint scream. Immediately, Harry focused on his Occlumency training and bolstered his psychic defenses as much as he could to block out the effects of the Dementor's aura.
"Who's that?" Jim said suddenly and anxiously.
"It's a Dementor, Jim, obviously!" Harry glanced at his brother in surprise at his question, but he was startled by Jim's appearance. The Boy-Who-Lived had gone completely pale at the sight of the Dementor and already looked unsteady on his feet.
"No, the scream ... who's that screaming?!" Jim said shakily before collapsing on the floor. The Dementor inclined his head slightly and then floated more quickly in their direction. Harry popped his wand and stepped forward between his brother and the Dementor with as much courage as he could muster.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he cried out. In response, a stream of silvery mist poured from his wand. He was disappointed – Harry had thought that actual proximity to a Dementor might cause him to produce a corporeal Patronus. The mist struck the Dementor who hissed and pulled back a few feet. Then, it seemed to study both Harry and the unconscious Jim as if trying to decide between two targets. Suddenly, it lunged forward again despite Harry's Patronus which soon wavered under the strain.
Harry cast again. "EXPECTO ... PATRONUM!" His incantation was weaker now. Despite his best efforts to block the hideous creature's psychic attack, Harry could feel its seeping through his mental defenses. He had a powerful and disturbing impression of being covered in icy-cold worms that were digging, burrowing into his mind. The mist sprang forth from his wand, but it was even weaker than before, and it barely seemed to slow the Dementor at all. The creature raised up an arm, and its fetid sleeve fell away to reveal an emaciated bony hand that stank of death and decay. It pointed a finger at him as if in accusation. All Harry could see now was the Dementor. Everything else was covered in complete darkness. He heard the woman's scream again, though faintly, but he could feel tiny sharp-fingered things crawling up his back as they chittered hungrily.
"EX ... EXPECTO ... PAT...!" Harry's third attempt to summon a Patronus failed completely, and he dropped to one knee in front of his unconscious brother. Now, both of the Dementors hands were exposed as they reached for his face. They stank of rot, and in his increasing delirium and terror, Harry thought he saw maggots crawling over them. He heard the faint scream again, this time accompanied by a booming jubilant voice from somewhere far away that cried out "Suppertime!"
And then, the worst thing of all: The Dementor spoke!
"[I/We] kNoooW [your] FaAaAaAaCE [DIE! DIE! DIE!]
As the Dementor was just about to touch him, Harry's vision went blurry. Desperately, he tried to remember the words of the Patronus Charm, but somehow, the knowledge had vanished from his memory and his wand felt like heavy lead in his hands. He exhaled heavily, and fog – and perhaps something more than fog – came out of his mouth and was instantly sucked up into whatever was hidden by the Dementor's hood. Harry focused all his remaining will and raised his wand in a quivering hand, desperate to try then Patronus one last time before the creature Kissed him and his brother both.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
Suddenly, Harry was awash in a brilliant blinding light. The feeling of terror and despair that the Dementor had provoked vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The boy still felt icy-cold, but it was different now. Instead of the soul-draining grave chill of the Dementor, this was an invigorating cold that somehow roused he boy from his near-stupor. There was also a faint aftertaste of salt water in his mouth, and he strangely felt as if he were being raised up into the air. But above all, Harry was suddenly overcome with a sense of hope and an absolute certainty that he was going to be okay.
The magical light faded then, but so did the darkness as the interior lights of the train suddenly came back on. The Dementor was gone, and a low moan behind him indicated that Jim had regained consciousness. Harry looked around, and through the rapidly melting ice on the windows, he saw something as heartening as it was unexpected. The Dementor was now flying away from the train as fast as it could ... with Elby, Neville Longbottom's grizzly bear Patronus, in hot pursuit. Harry turned around and was pleased to see a shaken but confident Neville with his wand still drawn and flanked by Hermione and Blaise, the latter of whom was peering out the window with an amused expression.
"Heh. Exit, pursued by a bear," he said with a cheeky grin. Immediately, Hermione punched him in the arm before stepping forward to attend to the Potter boys.
"Are you two alright? Neither of you got Kissed or anything at least. Do you need some chocolate?"
"Yes, no, and sure, why not," Harry replied as he pulled himself off the floor before helping a still woozy Jim up as well.
"Well, that was ... perfectly awful," Jim said. "Is everyone okay?"
"I was going to ask you that," Harry said. "You were the one who passed out."
Jim blushed and frowned at that, and Harry regretted his words. "It's okay. I was about to join you on the floor when Neville showed up and saved us."
Neville, at that point, was looking out the window as if searching for the Dementor. He knew that his Patronus had already dissipated, and he was concerned the foul creature might return. At the sound of his name, he turned back to his friends with a bashful smile. "We're all just lucky that Lockhart was crazy enough to make my try to learn that spell! Otherwise ..."
The boy froze suddenly, the smile draining from his face to be replaced with a glare. Harry looked at his strange expression and then followed the direction of his attention. It was focused on Theo, who had just stepped out of the compartment (looking every bit as pale as Jim and Harry) to instantly catch Neville's attention... and his ire.
"Right then," Neville said in a low voice. "Obviously, everyone's okay. So I'm going back to my seat. I suggest you all do the same before a prefect catches you standing out in the corridor where you might get eaten by a Dementor or something." And with that, he turned on his heels and stalked back the way he came without another word.
By this point, other students were stepping out of their own compartments. While several younger children seemed cold and shaken, no one seemed as deeply affected as Jim and, to a lesser extent, Harry. Hermione insisted that they both eat several chocolate bars each (and then recommended that they brush their teeth extra hard after dinner) before Blaise practically dragged her back to their own car. For his part, Harry thought it best to return with them and do some damage control on Neville. But before he could, Jim grabbed him by the arm and leaned in close.
"Did ... did you hear a woman screaming?" he whispered anxiously.
Harry hesitated before finally nodding yes. "Faintly though. My shields blocked out a lot of it and, well, whatever that memory is of, I have more recent ones that are a lot worse for a Dementor to play around with." He squeezed his brother's shoulder. "But whatever it was, it's over now. It's just some sort of Dementor nastiness. Try not to let it worry you."
Jim nodded back and then returned to his own compartment where Ron and the Quidditch team were waiting. He asked if anyone would mind if he took Steve out of his terrarium. No one objected, and he spent the rest of the trip in virtual silence as he gently rubbed the kingsnake's head while staring pensively out the window as the Scottish highlands rolled by.
Next: "Feasts, Electives, and Student Organizations." Sorry about the long delay. A mixture of work, family matters, and a bit of writer's block. Basically, I kept rewriting this chapter to include things that absolutely had to happen before Harry returned to school. Hopefully, I got them all.
AN1: Some readers pointed out after the last chapter that Draco is canonically born in June. Canon, in this instance, refers to a single Pottermore article, and I've already said that this story is not Pottermore-compliant. I needed Draco to be born in early 1980 so that Theo could be born in time to be in Harry's class, and so he was.
Similarly, I am ignoring everything JKR wrote on Pottermore about Umbridge because it's all completely unworkable. Rowling stops just short of declaring Umbridge to have been "born evil," and Tom Riddle is a much more sympathetic character. I honestly want to know what that mysterious "instructor" upon whom canon-Umbridge is based did to Rowling to engender such absolute loathing. If you haven't noticed already, be aware that POS-Umbridge is a rather different character than the canon version.
AN2: "Exit, pursued by a bear" is from Shakespeare's A Winter's Tale. It is generally considered to be the most famous stage instruction in the history of theater