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 23: Random Moments of Weirdness
14 November 1993
Hogwarts
In the aftermath of the previous week's disastrous Quidditch match, the Daily Prophet had been inundated with complaints about the presence of Dementors at Hogwarts, but Minister Fudge was resolute. He was also backed in his decision by James Potter, Amelia Bones and, with obvious reluctance, Albus Dumbledore. The Prophet also printed several letters in support of the Ministry claiming that despite the risk, the Dementors were needed in light of the werewolf attack two weeks earlier. The Hogwarts Headmaster did persuade Fudge to assign more Ministry personnel proficient with the Patronus Charm to the school to monitor the army of Dementors still stationed over the Forbidden Forest. He also announced that while the Dementors were at Hogwarts, Hogsmeade Weekends were limited to students who were able to summon a Patronus, an announcement that lead to much booing from the student body.
In response to the denial of Hogsmeade privileges as much as fear of the Dementors, nearly the entire student body abruptly signed up for Patronus lessons, though it was painfully clear that most of them lacked the willpower (or simply raw power) to master the difficult Charm. Poor Marcus Flint found himself overwhelmed by the sheer number of students attending his classes. Luckily – and to the surprise of nearly everyone – the new caretaker Malachi Sturgeon was apparently a wizard who was himself proficient with the Charm, and Sturgeon agreed to help Flint with his class load. Naturally, this led to an increase in wild rumors about how a skilled wizard ended up working as a caretaker, a job traditionally held by a squib. The consensus view of the Hogwarts rumor mill was that Sturgeon was actually an undercover Auror or possibly even an Unspeakable. This, in turn, led to an increasing number of young girls developing crushes on the brooding, mysterious man much to his own embarrassment.
On the second Sunday afternoon after the match, the Third through Fifth years who were studying the Patronus found themselves in the Great Hall. Somewhat surprisingly, the Third Years as a class were outshining their elders. Harry, Hermione, Theo, and several others in their year had demonstrated at least the beginnings of a mist Patronus, though so far, only Neville had succeeded in producing a corporeal version. Their numbers grew by one more when Anthony Goldstein's wand lit up with a brilliant ethereal light that lasted for several seconds.
"Well done, Anthony!" Hermione exclaimed. Anthony beamed in response.
"Thank you, Hermione. Oh! And also, thank you for putting me onto that book. I finally found it in the Restricted Section. Well, Madam Pince found it after I told her what I was looking for, and then Professor Flitwick gave me permission to check it out."
"Which book?" she said in some confusion. Harry crooked an eyebrow.
"The one about magic not working well with either plastics or electricity," Anthony answered. "Magic and Muggles: The Source of Their Inferiority by Englebert von Smallhausen. It's hideously bigoted but also describes several legitimate experimental studies to determine why magic caused Muggle technology to break down, and they all agreed that magic causes plastics to degrade quickly while also causing fluctuations in electrical resistance. Quite fascinating ... again except for the hideous bigotry."
Harry snorted in surprise. "And that's the book you couldn't remember the name of, Hermione?" he inquired. "I'd have thought that a name like Englebert von Smallhausen alone would be unforgettable without even addressing the title."
Hermione made a face. "Yes, yes. I had forgotten what book it was. I'm so sorry that I don't have your faultless memory, Harry."
Nearby (but not near enough to be a part of that group), Theo No-Name watched as his friends bantered. He'd deliberately taken up a spot by himself so that none of the people he cared about would be contaminated by the power of the Ultimate Sanction. But where that thought had been depressing a week before, now it was merely annoying. Despite the power of the Sanction, Theo knew who his friends were, even if those friends no longer knew it themselves. He looked to the far side of the room where he could see Neville Longbottom giving some Patronus advice to other Purebloods. Briefly, Longbottom made eye contact with him and sneered (quite impressively for a Gryffindor) before turning away towards Cassius Warrington. Theo shook his head – as if those two would have even been on speaking terms a year before!
Theo closed his eyes and let the tension drain away. Cruel magic may have turned Neville against him, but after his conversation with Hermione in the Astronomy Tower, he had faith and hope again. One day, he would beat the Ultimate Sanction. One day, all his friends would be his friends once more. He drew forth a memory from years before, one he'd not tried previously as a "happy memory," but which suddenly seemed more appropriate than anything else he'd used.
"Neville and Hermione are my friends, and they're in trouble. So I'm there for them. Just like I'm there for you."
He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and with one last glance around at Harry, Hermione, and Neville, Theo cast the spell. "EXPECTO PATRONUM." A silvery mist poured from his wand, stronger and brighter than ever before, but Theo didn't stop. He pushed more and more of himself into the spell as he focused harder and harder on that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd first experienced on the way to face Quirrell and rescue Neville and Hermione. The feeling of knowing that he finally had someone other than his brother who he cared about enough to risk dying for.
The mist grew and grew until finally, it collapsed in on itself. And there floating in the air in front of Theo No-Name, was a glowing silvery ... rabbit. Theo laughed in delight at the sight of it.
The summoning of a corporeal Patronus - and especially by a boy who half the students present assumed to be evil in some way - immediately caused everyone else to stop what they were doing and stare in amazement. Hermione and several other students who were unaffected by the Sanction immediately moved around the boy to show him their support and admiration. On the other side of the room, Neville Longbottom fumed openly as if offended that someone like the Outcast could now become the second youngest person to ever summon a corporeal Patronus. Then, he jumped back in surprise when the flying rabbit darted over towards him almost faster than the eye could follow. It paused in front of his face and twitched its nose almost quizzically before jetting back over to Theo's side with the same blinding speed.
While several students not under the Sanction's effects crowded around Theo, Harry (as expected) held back, though his expression and body language made it clear to Theo's Slytherin eyes how proud he was of his friend.
"It's beautiful," Hermione said softly. "What are you going to call it?"
Theo thought for a moment. "Fiver," he said, giving the name of one of the rabbits from Watership Down.
The Muggleborn looked at him with some surprise. "Fiver? Not Hazel?"
Theo smiled and nodded his head in Harry's direction. "Hazel's the hero of the story. That's not me. Fiver's the hero's little brother who travels alongside him and has all the good ideas."
Nearby, Jim Potter watched the display with a smile, as he'd become rather fond of Theo during their martial arts lessons. But then, his attention was drawn to his brother, and his smile faded. He shook his head and tried to focus on his own happy memories such as they were. Then, he cast the spell.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM."
There was nothing. Not even a wisp of silver.
15 November 1993
8:00 p.m.
The Potions classroom
True to his word, Professor Snape dragooned Harry into lessons with the obscure and almost certainly illegal Sectumsempra Curse. As with Hermione (who had joined him this day), Snape first required Harry to learn the Vulnera Sanentur Charm which was the only healing spell capable of healing the bloody damage caused by Snape's custom-designed werewolf-killing curse.
When he could do so with discretion, Harry studied his Head of House with a mixture of surprise and concern, though concealed as best he could through his Occlumency. Intuitively, he realized that Snape was for some reason working extra-hard to control and hide his own emotions as he taught the spell, and yet for some reason, his normally rigid self-control was quite lax today.
"I wonder what happened that led him to create this spell," Harry thought to himself. "Whatever it is though, I think he really must hate werewolves as a result. I wonder if he and Reg might end up bonding over the subject."
By the end of the first session, Harry had already mastered the deadly curse, having successfully damaged the training dummies summoned by Snape with cuts that would be fatal to a living person struck with them. Satisfied, Snape reminded the two to never use the curse except in a true life-or-death situation and then instructed them to clean up the room and return to their dorms before departing himself.
As the two Third Years were straightening up the classroom, Harry decided to ask the question that had been on his mind for some time. He cast a privacy charm on the door, which caused Hermione to look at him in surprise.
"Sorry," Harry said. "But I've been dying to ask you and this is the first chance we've had to talk in private. Just between you and me ... what is the deal with that book you and Anthony have been talking about?"
Hermione stiffened slightly. "What makes you think there's any ... deal to discuss, Harry?"
"Hermione, people say you're the smartest witch of our age, and I don't dispute that. But book-smarts don't make you a good liar, and – no offense – you're actually a terrible liar." He paused to reconsider his words. "No, that's not fair. By non-Slytherin standards, you're actually not a bad liar at all. But, well, I am a Slytherin who's really good at reading people, and I can tell when you're lying. You didn't mean to tell Anthony that plastics and electricity disrupted magic, and you didn't want to reveal where you'd learned that little fact. I don't know if you got it from the book Anthony found or from somewhere else. And I don't know why you want to be so evasive about it. But I do want you to know that, whatever secret you're hiding and for whatever reason, you can trust me with it. You know that, right?"
She studied him for several seconds as if to evaluate her choices before she finally sighed in resignation. "Harry, do you trust me? I mean really trust me?"
Harry started to offer a glib response, but he was suddenly struck by the seriousness and intensity with which Hermione asked the question. He also noticed for the first time how tired the girl was, and for some reason, he no longer thought it was due simply to her heavy course load. And so he took a moment to truly think about the question she'd asked before giving an answer of his own.
"I trust you more than anyone else in the world," he finally said.
She exhaled softly, and Harry was surprised by how relieved she seemed to be at his response.
"Then I'm going to ask you to trust me when I say I can't answer any of your questions. Not right now, anyway. Or possibly ever. I mean, if I could tell anyone it would be you. And quite honestly, I wish I could tell you everything because I think your advice would be really helpful right now. But ... I can't. I can only ask you to ... to let me handle the things I need to handle on my own and without any interference."
His eyes narrowed as he considered the girl's cryptic and evasive answer. "Hermione, are you under a secrecy oath of some kind?"
She opened her mouth as if to respond but then snapped it shut almost immediately, which Harry thought was an answer in and of itself.
"Can you tell me if you're in trouble of some kind? Or if there's anything I can do to help?"
She bit her lip softly before answering. "I ... wouldn't say I'm in trouble. I just have some things I need to do ... alone. And when they're all done, I'll tell you everything. Well, if I can anyway. As for how you can help, all I can ask is that you trust me to be able to do what I need to do. And," she swallowed tightly, "and trust me to do it on my own. Please, Harry. For the time being at least, don't worry about me. And if you see me ... I don't know, acting weird at any time, just put it out of your head. Can you do that for me, Harry?"
The boy stared at her for what seemed like an eternity but was really only six seconds.
"Alright. I do trust you, and I have a lot of faith in your intelligence and sensibility. If at any point I get the impression that you're in danger, I'm probably going to stick my nose back in. But up until that point ... I promise to ignore any weirdness. Will that do?"
She smiled in relief. "Yes, Harry, and thank you."
He looked around the room. "I'll tell you what though. You may not be in any danger, but you've obviously been overworking yourself. I'll finish up here. You can go on to bed."
Hermione started to protest, but Harry would not be denied and anyway the room was nearly done. So the girl stepped forward and gave him a quick hug, much to his own surprise, before leaving the room. Harry spent a few quick minutes finishing the clean-up as he contemplated the exceedingly strange conversation he'd just had. He was about to put the last of the target dummies away when he had a sudden thought. He took a quick paranoid look around the room and then cast a Silencing Charm on the door. Then, he moved back to the other side of the room and pointed his wand at the last dummy before taking a deep slow breath.
"SSSECTUMSSSEMPRA!" he hissed and to his surprise, there was actually a slight recoil from his wand – something he'd never experienced before – as several waves of intense magical force poured out of it to completely rip the training dummy apart.
And also place several cracks in the blackboard that had been hanging behind it.
Harry stared in amazement at the damage his first serious attempt at Parselmagic had inflicted before he could finally summon the will to speak.
"Bloody hell," he whispered.
It took another half-hour to repair the damage he'd done to Snape's classroom. When he was done, he took one last look around before exiting.
"What a day," he said with a rueful shake of his head.
21 November 1993
The Law Office of Peter Pettigrew, Esq.
Peter –
As you know, we've been through a lot with Jim and Harry over the last year or so, and especially over the last few weeks. The attack on Hogsmeade that left Harry on his own against a pack of werewolves even as we were all focused on getting Jim to safety (and thank you for that, Pete, and for everything else you've done for your godson) has forced me to confront the full scope of how badly I've let the elder of my sons down. I abandoned him for ten years and schemed against him for another two before I nearly lost him for good. No more.
I appreciate all you've done with regard to Harry since, after all, it's what I asked of you. You've always been a good friend, but right now, I don't need a friend to enable my worst instincts. I need a friend to tell me when I'm being a horse's arse. Please make that a priority in all our future dealings. In case I haven't been clear, I want you to desist in all efforts to remove Harry from the Potter family. Furthermore, please check into the status of the replacement Heir's Ring. If Harry is amenable and it can be finished in time, I'd like to formally present him with his Ring on his 14th birthday and have him acknowledged as Heir Apparent at that time. I guess Jim will have to settle for just being the second son of a filthy rich family and also the idol of millions.
I know it's a big switch from our prior conversations, but if you have any thoughts on how I can make it up to Harry for how I've treated him, I'm all ears. Also, I hope you can find the time to get to know Harry yourself and develop a bond with him. You've been a wonderful godfather for Jim, but since Harry's own godfather is a filthy traitor who will hopefully never get within a hundred miles of him, I would be very grateful if you could assume a godfatherly role for Harry if only informally.
You should come over for dinner sometime. It's a bit lonely at Potter Manor by myself. Let me know when you're free.
– James
Peter read the letter from his best friend and best client three times, with his face growing increasingly dour with each read-through. Over by the window, James's owl Godric was perched on the sill waiting for a reply or at least a treat. Finally, it hooted loudly as if to get Peter's attention. In that, the bird succeeded as the solicitor wadded up the letter and threw it forcefully at the owl's head. Godric hooted again, more indignantly this time, as he narrowly dodged the projectile before flapping out of the window.
"Well," Peter said to no one, "this day is off to a fairly wretched start. I wonder what disaster will strike next."
As if in karmic response, there was a soft knock at his door before his receptionist Yvette entered.
"My apologies, Mr. Pettigrew, but someone is here to see you."
Peter grunted. "Well, I don't have anyone scheduled, and I'm not in the mood for a walk-in client. Tell them to make an appointment for next week."
Before Yvette could respond, the visitor swept past her into the office. Peter immediately jumped to his feet as he recognized the young woman standing before him.
"Do forgive my directness, Mr. Pettigrew," said Cassilda Selwyn as she smoothly slipped out of her traveling cloak and handed it to the surprised Yvette. "But I find that I am not inclined to wait a week before speaking with you. Nor am I inclined to be treated like common rabble come to retain your services for some tedious domestic dispute."
Peter grimaced while straightening his tie. "Do forgive me, Lady Selwyn. I was ... unprepared for a surprise visit from a personage as august as yourself. What can I do for you?"
She smiled in a way that a less astute person would find courteous. Peter, however, was quite astute and also quite knowledgeable about the House Selwyn's true role in the last war. And consequently, he found the woman's smile to be distinctly troubling.
"Well, Mr. Pettigrew, as it happens, I've been having the most engaging conversations with a mutual friend we share. And based on his ... revelations, I do believe that there's a great deal we can do for each other."
Her smile grew and become even more charming and yet somehow more predatory. Peter licked his lips unconsciously. "Oh yes," he thought to himself as he invited his visitor to take a seat. "This day just keeps getting better and better."
28 November 1993
12 Grimmauld Place
By the end of November, Sirius Black had recuperated enough to move around with Dobby's assistance. On this particular day, he was in the main downstairs parlor warming himself next to the fireplace. In addition to warmth, the change of scenery had the added benefit of getting him farther away from Kreacher's rantings. The mad elf had taken to hiding in the attic where he would prostrate himself for hours before the picture of Walburga Black that was still shouting insanely from her perch on the isolated patch of wall that Dobby had liberated from the main foyer.
Sirius had just opened the Prophet while indulging in some delicious watercress sandwiches made by Dobby when the orange flames in the fireplace suddenly turned a brilliant green and an obese man in coveralls and a cap stepped through with a heavy toolbox in one hand. Sirius jumped out of his chair and fumbled for his wand, but before he could cast his spell, his legs gave way, and he fell unceremoniously to the floor.
The big man looked down at him and shook his head.
"Honestly, Sirius, get a hold of yourself. It's only me."
While still on the floor, Sirius was still able to point his wand (or rather his Uncle Alphard's wand) at the intruder.
"Me who?" he demanded.
The big man scoffed before shaking his whole body violently. After a few seconds of blurring, the intruder was revealed as Regulus Black, now wearing coveralls at least three sizes too big.
"Me, your long-suffering brother who still needs to finish getting the Floo set up, so kindly don't hex me while I'm working." Reg clucked his tongue and set the toolbox on the floor before helping Sirius back to his chair.
"Floo ... set up? Since when do you know how to set up a Floo?" Sirius scoffed.
Regulus shrugged. "In Australia, Aurors are required to learn how to operate the Floo Network in order to facilitate raids and to stop suspects from escaping that way. Apparently, it's different here in Britain, presumably because the bureaucratic thicket that runs the Floo Network Authority doesn't want the DMLE or any other bureaucratic thickets intruding on their turf. The shape I was wearing just now was that of Angus MacDougal, a fairly thick-headed 50-year-old wizard who barely passed his OWLS but got a job working with the Floo Network Authority through nepotism."
"Uh-huh. And where was he while you were wearing his face?"
Regulus smirked. "I believe he was in Knockturn Alley cavorting with a prostitute provided to him by Lucius for certain favors completely unrelated to my own activities. Lucius and I have been setting this up for weeks. I've impersonated a total of seven different people in order to get approval for a Floo link-up here at Grimmauld Place while simultaneously concealing all records and evidence of its existence. Meanwhile, he's bribed twice as many people to do seemingly innocuous favors that have no obvious connection to our ultimate aims. Of course, we'll be somewhat limited in that we can only Floo to Longbottom Manor or Malfoy Manor at first, but it will make it a lot easier for Harry to come and visit here over the holidays."
Sirius brightened at that, but then he became concerned. "And you're sure no one will be able to track this back to us and use it to break into this place?"
"Positive," Regulus sniffed. "Lucius and I are Slytherins, Sirius. This is the sort of thing we do every day before breakfast."
Sirius rolled his eyes and went back to reading his paper while his brother opened up his toolbox and set to work.
10 December 1993
Hogwarts
November passed into December largely without incident. The Daily Prophet remained as histrionic as ever, but then there were no further werewolf attacks, no further Dementor attacks, and no further sightings of Sirius Black or anyone who even looked like Sirius Black. The various clubs continued to meet weekly. The Hogwarts Cultural Preservation Society held dignified tea parties while discussing the finer points of Pureblood culture and history along with increasingly bizarre conspiracy theories about what Theo No-Name must have done to be judged worthy of the Sanction ... and also how he was able to command so much support from the school's Muggleborns. "Dark Magic" was the emerging consensus. To Club President Diggory's disappointment, only a few Muggleborns came to see what the club was about, but almost none did so more than once. When Cedric talked with them later, their complaints were vague and evasive. It seemed that while none of the club members were ever overtly rude to them, most of the Muggleborn attendees said that the group made them feel uncomfortable for reasons they couldn't quite articulate. The one exception was Justin Finch-Fletchley, whose unique status put him on the boundary between Muggleborn and Pureblood in a way that applied to no one else. Justin had attended three meetings before dropping out citing his other responsibilities. But he and Diggory were both Hufflepuffs, and after some prodding, Justin finally admitted that he'd gotten tired of certain people sniffing disdainfully every time he asked a question about something Purebloods were expected to have learned by the age of five.
Meanwhile, SPAM's meetings were less dignified but better attended, particularly after Harry somehow got the house elves to provide Muggle treats like sodas, ice cream, and Oreo cookies. Also, to Anthony Goldstein's delight, an increasingly large part of each meeting was given over to brainstorming about how Muggle innovations could be reproduced magically. There were, of course, limitations on just how far a group of teenagers could go in such inquiries. At one point, Colin Creevey asked if it were possible to transfigure something into antimatter. The boy didn't actually know anything about antimatter beyond what he'd heard discussed on Star Trek, but the question completely horrified Hermione, Anthony, and Sue Li (the only three who even understood the question). All of them agreed that none of them should consider experimenting with using magic in the context of particle physics until after graduation, if ever. Then, Jim got involved by revealing that his mother had several Muggle college degrees including one for Physics. Harry was surprised, and not just about his mother's academic activities – Jim had been avoiding him for weeks, and this was the most they'd talked, even if it was as part of a crowd. Jim further agreed to talk with Lily and see if she would be willing to meet with SPAM and discuss the intersection of magic and Muggle science.
It was after one such SPAM meeting when Harry approached Hermione about joining Blaise and himself in working on a runic array for their Ancient Runes class. To Harry's disappointment, Hermione had already agreed to work with Anthony Goldstein and Sue Li, who had decided on some sort of home defense enchantment.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but Anthony asked me first," she said with some regret, though not as much as Harry thought appropriate. He narrowed his eyes.
"To be honest, I'd assumed based on past performance that you would have already approached me about a project. You do tend to stay three or so months ahead of everyone else when it comes to schoolwork." Then, he narrowed his eyes. "Is this a weird thing?" he asked suspiciously.
Hermione scoffed. "Not everything in my life is the product of ... personal weirdness, Harry," she replied.
He nodded at that. "I notice you didn't actually say no, Hermione."
She made a face but said nothing more.
17 December 1993
Hogwarts
During the last week before Christmas Break, Professor Scrimgeour finally held his much-anticipated dueling tournament. Harry had been looking forward to it, but he was ultimately disappointed with his final placement, mainly because of handicaps placed on him by his various mentors. Snape had forbidden him to use dilation during the tournament because it might reveal how far he'd progressed as an Occlumens and that might cause future problems with the Ministry. Moody had forbidden him to wandlessly summon any opponent's wand or to use any illusion-based Charms because they were the sort of skills best kept as a secret weapon. Besides, there were logistical problems using wandless summoning in a duel since the Summoning Charm did not function as well when used against an item in active use. Harry could easily summon a wand from a holster or even someone's hand if held in a light grip, but the spell would not work as well to summon a wand actively being used for spellcasting. Indeed, that limitation on the Accio Charm was what led to the subsequent creation of the Expelliarmus which, in contrast, could only work on someone who was considered armed in some sense. And finally, while Regulus did not forbid him to use any specific jinxes or hexes, he did order him to underplay his skills in general. After all, the boy would be debuting on the European junior dueling circuit the following summer, and Regulus was of the opinion that being a virtual unknown would be a better starting point for his dueling career than being "the kid who easily beat the Boy-Who-Lived" which would have every would-be duelist in his age group gunning for him before the first round.
All those limitations severely cramped Harry's style, with the end result that he only made it to the Quarterfinals before being eliminated by Justin Finch-Fletchley. The other boy was not a spectacular duelist when it came to spellwork, but after a year of practice, his skill with the Averto shield was phenomenal. The duel between Justin and Harry was one of the longest of the tournament, but Harry was simply unable to penetrate Justin's defense (or at least, unable to do so without taking advantage of skills his mentors thought were best held in reserve), and eventually, the Muggleborn simply tired him out.
The 3rd Year Dueling Finalists were Justin and Jim, and the two were evenly matched to start. While Justin could parry nearly any attack, Jim with his Wu Xi Do training could dodge nearly any attack even in the small confines of a dueling platform. In the end, however, Jim's superior range of spells acquired through several years of specialized training won out, and Justin took the silver medal to Jim's gold. Harry enthusiastically congratulated both his friend and his brother for their success without giving any hint that he'd spotted several weak spots in each of their techniques and that he was confident of beating each of them if the situation ever demanded that he not hold back.
Harry also noted how reluctant Jim was to shake his hand. Or to even make eye contact with him. And so, the young Slytherin decided that enough was enough, and with some assistance from Hermione and a reluctant Ron, Harry was able to corner Jim in a classroom while on his way to the reception to be held after the tournament.
"Right, Jim," he said. "We need to talk."
Jim looked at the faces of his brother and friends with some trepidation. "Um, about what?" he asked cautiously.
"I hate to say it, mate," Ron said apologetically, "but you've been acting odd for weeks, ever since the Dementor attack. Harry came to me and said you'd been acting especially cold towards him, and he asked me if I knew why. I didn't, but I agreed with him that you've basically been flinching every time Harry looked at you. And, well, after everything that happened to me last year, I try to pay attention when people suddenly aren't acting like themselves."
"You think I'm ... possessed or something?" Jim asked incredulously.
"No," Harry said. "But we do all think you've been acting strangely, particularly towards me. And when people I care about start acting weird, I take an interest." As he said those words, both Harry and Hermione resolutely did not make eye contact.
Jim looked down at the floor for a few moments as if to hide his obvious discomfort. Then, he looked up at Hermione. "And why are you here?
The question seemed to surprise the witch. "Moral support, I suppose? Both Harry and Ron asked me to be here. I guess they thought I might have something to offer."
"Like a Seer's prediction?" Jim asked harshly. At first, Hermione thought he was teasing her, but then she realized to her shock that he was being quite serious.
"Jim," she stammered, "I'm not a Seer. I'm just someone who can apply common sense to what she sees in front of her. Obviously, that looks like precognition to the more credulous witches and wizards, but what does this whole Seer nonsense have to do with whatever has you upset?"
Jim fumed for a moment, but then the fight seemed to go out of him. He sat down in one of the chairs.
"Do you remember that fight we had after our very first Potions lesson. The one when I was being ... 'a braying ass'?"
Ron laughed. "Who could ever forget it?"
Jim wasn't laughing. "And do you remember what you said in the Common Room? Wouldn't it be funny if it had been Harry who destroyed You-Know-Who and our parents sent him away and put me forward as the Boy-Who-Lived in order to draw attention away from him?"
Harry fumed and rolled his eyes. "Oh for God's sake," he thought to himself. "This again!"
"Jim," Hermione stammered. "I'm not a Seer, and what I said to you wasn't some prophetic vision. It was me being intentionally mean and provocative to you because you'd made me very angry. And if it's still something you're upset about, let me take this chance to apologize to you."
"Hang on. That was two years ago!" Ron exclaimed. "What's brought this on now?" But it was Harry who answered.
"Last year, Jim's boggart fear consisted of people suggesting he wasn't worthy of being the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry said bluntly. "I'd hoped he'd gotten over that, but something happened to put him back in a petty funk over it."
Jim's face clouded over in anger, but then, it faded as quickly as it arose. He rubbed his hands over his face.
"Harry, when I get near Dementors, I remember ... that night. I remember Voldemort attacking us. I remember him laughing at Mum and telling her to move aside." He took a deep breath. "And I remember her begging Voldemort to kill her ... instead of you." The other three were shocked at the revelation. "'Not Harry!' That's what she said. She didn't even mention me being there."
He turned to Hermione. "That's why I was wondering about all the signs of you being a Seer. Isn't it possible that you really are a Seer but don't know it? And when you blurted that out during our First Year, you were revealing the truth about the Boy-Who-Lived?"
Harry stepped forward, now obviously annoyed. "Well, that's possible, I suppose. But permit me to suggest a far more likely theory – YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"
At that, Jim jumped out of his chair as if ready to fight his brother, but Harry simply stepped forward and got in his face. "Jim, just tell me one thing! What. Do. Dementors. Do?"
Caught off guard, Jim blinked repeatedly. "Um, they guard Azkaban?"
Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
"I think Harry is referring to the Dementor's powers," said Hermione. "Such as their ability to force their victims to relieve bad memories."
"Five points to Gryffindor," Harry muttered sarcastically. "And what else?"
"Oh, oh!" added Ron excitedly, "they also drain you of your good memories."
"And there's another five points," Harry added. "Pity I'm not a professor. Anyway, let's recap: Last year, your boggart fear was people telling you that you weren't worthy of being the Chosen One. This year, Dementors edged slightly ahead of childish insecurities, but those feelings were still there. So what happens when a Dementor grabs you and gets almost close enough for the Kiss? You suddenly have an implausible and suspiciously-timed auditory hallucination that seems to validate your earlier insecurities by making you think that your mother considers me more important than you, even though she was the one who ..."
He paused and shook his head. "Never mind what she did. I want to get past all that and you should too. My point is, there is nothing reliable about this recovered memory you claim to have since you only remember it while under a psychic attack. Plus, while I still have issues about Lily Potter's parenting skills, I find it wildly improbable that she would ever act the way you claim she did towards only one of her children. If those events happened at all as you say, I think it more likely that Lily offered up her life in exchange for both her children, but the Dementor effects cause you to remember it wrong. And finally, if you still have any doubts that you're the Chosen One, may I remind you that you melted Professor Quirrell when you were eleven and stabbed a Basilisk to death when you were twelve. It should be pretty obvious to anyone with a brain larger than a grape seed which of us is the great conquering hero and it's not the Slimy Slytherin."
Jim absorbed Harry's monologue and then looked to his older twin almost bashfully. "I told you I wasn't going to call any Slytherins slimy anymore. Least of all you."
"Yes, well. Regardless of how personally slimy I may or may not be, I am a Slytherin, and there's no way I'm going to let you fob your Voldemort-slaying duties off on me just because some floaty abomination tried to Kiss you and gave you an angst-overdose. You're the Boy-Who-Lived. Suck it up and deal with it."
Jim's eyes widened. And then he burst into laughter. "Alright, alright. I'm ... sorry I've been a git about what happened. And ... thank you ... all three of you for getting my head back on straight for me."
"So, are we brothers again?" Harry asked as he extended his hand. Jim clasped it warmly
"Yeah, we're brothers."
Harry smiled. "Good. So in the spirit of brotherly affection ... can I borrow the Cloak tomorrow?"
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed at his brashness.
"Pfft! Way to ruin the mood, Harry!" Jim said with a smile.
Harry shrugged unrepentantly. "I'm a Slytherin, Jim. If you're going to have me as your brother, dealing with my crass cynicism and emotional manipulation is the price you have to pay for all my natural brilliance."
Later that night ...
After the reception, Ron and Jim were walking back to their dorm with full stomachs.
"Hey, Ron," Jim asked. "You're not mad at Harry, are you?"
Ron looked at him in confusion. "Why would I be mad at Harry? He said what you needed to hear to get over the Dementor attack."
"Yeah, but he only did it to get me to lend him the Cloak."
Ron snorted. "Come on, Jim. You know it was more than that. Harry really does care about you and really was concerned about you. The fact that he decided to get something he wanted while in the process of helping you doesn't change any of that."
"It doesn't?" Jim said with some amusement. "So it doesn't bug you to see Harry being manipulative like that? Even with me?"
"Jim, after last year? It would be beyond hypocritical of me to complain about Slytherins manipulating people so long as they're not trying to hurt them in the process. Besides, Harry's one of the good guys. It would be a good thing for everyone if he ended up running the showdown in the Slytherin dungeons."
Jim nodded agreeably. "Yeah, I can see that. Give him a few years, and Harry will be the King of Slytherin."
"Prince," Ron said distractedly.
"What?" Jim asked.
"Eh?" Ron answered in confusion.
"You said Harry would be Slytherin's Prince instead of its King. What does that mean?"
Ron opened his mouth but then stopped, his brow furrowing in confusion. From somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, the boy suddenly recalled a brief snippet of conversation in the form of sibilant hisses produced by two strangely familiar voices that echoed along the walls of a huge sunken chamber. But then, as quickly as it emerged, the memory was gone again. Ron shrugged.
"Honestly, I haven't the faintest clue why I said that." But then, he frowned. "But I have the oddest feeling that it's going to be important somehow."
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
UPDATE SCHEDULE!
November 4, 2018 - Preview of next chapter uploaded to The Sinister Man's website and available to Discord members. Check my author page for links.
November 8, 2018 - Next chapter of my novel, Strangers In Boston, uploaded to The Sinister Man's website and available to patrons. Check my author page for links.
November 11, 2018 - Next chapter uploaded to The Sinister Man's website and available to Discord members. Check my author page for links.
November 14, 2018 - Next chapter uploaded to this site and to AO3.
AN 1: Special thanks to Imperialanirudh, Flowed, patronus, and the incomparable Ozzie for their help in editing this chapter.
AN 2: In addition to the Discord site and the [REDACTED] site for my patrons, my Author Page also has links to the POS Wiki and the POS TV Tropes. We may even have a Reddit page by now, though such mysteries elude me.