SHAMELESS PLUG!
My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.
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 42: The Hunting of Sirius Black (Conclusion)
27 March 1994
The Hogwarts Main Foyer
8:40 p.m.
Minerva McGonagall had been grading papers when she was startled by a gleaming stag Patronus appearing in her office to announce that James Potter and a squad of Aurors were coming to Hogwarts to investigate a murder. Moments later, she was at the front doors of the castle and was understandably vexed to see Jim Potter and Ron Weasley preparing to open the doors themselves.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley! It is quite late, and curfew will soon be in effect. This is no time to be outside."
"Professor, what's going on?" Jim asked anxiously. "We were in the Astronomy Tower, and we saw something strange happening in the Forbidden Forest. There was a weird light, and then the Dementors all went down to investigate. And … I think I heard my godfather using the Sonorous Charm and saying something about … Sirius Black!"
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said again with strained asperity. "At the moment, I know nothing about those matters, but your father will be here momentarily. If he asks for your presence, you may remain. Otherwise, you will return to Gryffindor Tower at once! Do I make myself clear?"
Both boys nodded, and the professor stepped forward to unbar the door. Then, she stepped out onto the porch to meet the Chief Auror and the squad that accompanied him.
Meanwhile in the Forbidden Forest…
While the Dementors were momentarily cowed, the quartet made their way swiftly around the lake towards the edge of the Forest.
"So if we can't take Sirius to the Chamber of Secrets," Neville asked, "where are we taking him?"
"The Quidditch lockers. My broom is locked up there."
Sirius frowned. "Unless they've redone the grounds since I was here last, those lockers are on the opposite side of the school. Given all the commotion we've made, can we get that far without being spotted?"
Harry stopped suddenly and put up his hand. Then, he waved his wand and whispered the incantation for the Supersensory Charm.
"Apparently not," he whispered angrily. "I can see James … and it looks like a half-dozen Aurors. They've just entered the gates and are headed for the castle.
"Is there another way out of here?" Neville asked. Theo looked thoughtful and then turned to Sirius.
"Mr. Black, how were you in Care of Magical Creatures?"
"Call me Sirius. And I took it all the way to NEWTs and got an O." Sirius looked at the boy suspiciously. "Why?"
Moments later …
The clearing where the Hippogriff herd rested during the nights was uncomfortably near the edge of the Forest, specifically Hagrid's hut. But it was still inside the Forest which the Aurors had not yet begun to search. Neville, ever the Gryffindor, took point by slowly walking up to Buckbeak (who was still wide awake) and bowing respectfully. After a few tense seconds, Buckbeak returned the bow, and Neville led the creature over towards the others.
Sirius looked at the Hippogriff dubiously. He had, in fact, ridden a Hippogriff during his school days, though he'd been a Sixth Year NEWT student at the time. He was astonished (and slightly horrified) to know that his godson had done so on the very first day of CoMC. Then, he eyed Buckbeak with trepidation before shrugging almost casually.
"Oh, well. I'm sure it's just like riding a bicycle," he said. "Once you've done it, you never forget how."
"You know how to ride a bicycle?" Harry asked with some surprise.
"No, but I'm sure it's very similar to riding a Hippogriff."
Sirius and Harry both bowed to Buckbeak, who nodded and then unfurled its wings. Oddly, it seemed to understand what they were planning and (even more oddly) approved. Sirius moved to its side, but before he could mount, Harry grabbed him by the arm.
"Before you go, I need to tell you something," the boy said softly and with a more pensive expression than Sirius had ever seen on him.
"You'll probably need to make it quick, Harry," Sirius said with a chuckle. But then, he noticed the boy's expression and became more earnest.
"Sirius, I have to tell you …." Harry rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We warned you earlier tonight that Greyback was coming after you with his full intelligence thanks to the potion that Pettigrew gave him. What I didn't tell you was … the potion was supposed to go to Remus Lupin, who was using the Shrieking Shack for his transformations. Pettigrew stole the potion from him. And then …." Harry's eyes blinked rapidly. "He left me and James there tied up in the same room Lupin used to change and …."
Sirius put a firm hand on his shoulder. "That must have been terrifying, Harry. I'm just glad you got away without being hurt."
Harry looked down at the ground. "I didn't … get away, Sirius. I got my wand back and broke free of my bonds. But by then, Lupin … he was right on top of me. I didn't have time to think, to come up with anything …."
Suddenly, Harry began to cry. It was the most emotion Sirius had ever seen the boy reveal.
"Harry," he said. "Do you mean … did you …?"
"Y-yes, Sirius. I … I killed Remus Lupin. I sorry. I … I know he was your friend, and I didn't want to …."
Before Harry could say anything else, Sirius pulled him into a tight hug.
"Shhh, Harry, shhh. It wasn't your fault. None of it. The bastard did to you what I once did to Snape – use our friend Remus like a weapon. You were as much a victim as Remus. Do not blame yourself."
"Do you … do you hate me now because I'm a killer?" Harry asked softly, his face still buried in Sirius's shirt.
Sirius pulled back and lifted Harry's chin. "Did you do it out of malice? Were there any other options? No? Then, of course I don't hate you. I never could."
Harry sniffled. "James does."
Sirius's face darkened angrily. "James is a fool. And once I'm cleared, I'll tell him so to his face."
They both chuckled at that. Then, Sirius hugged Harry once more before climbing up onto Buckbeak's back. Seconds later, they were airborne and heading away from the school.
"Okay, that's done at least," Theo said as he watched the Hippogriff's departure. "Now what?"
"Now, we sneak you two into Hogwarts without you getting caught with me. James doesn't know either of you is involved, and I want to keep it that way."
"You don't need to face your father alone, Harry," Neville said.
"I have to face him eventually, Neville. Might as well get it over with. And there's no sense in involving you two when he doesn't know you're connected to Sirius or Azkaban or any of that business."
He smiled at his two friends. "At least you guys are speaking to one another again. If I'd known it was that easy to cure you of the Sanction, I'd have figured out how to get that ring off you long before now."
Neville tried to smile, but there was an unmistakeable sadness in his eyes. Theo reluctantly spoke up.
"Harry … it wasn't just a matter of taking off his Heir's ring."
"Theo, it's not important now …." Neville interrupted, but Harry's eyes flashed.
"What's not important? Tell me."
Neville sighed as Theo continued.
"To free himself from the Ultimate Sanction, Neville didn't just take off his ring. He did so as a conscious act of rejecting it and everything it stood for. He severed his connection to House Longbottom."
Harry was shocked. He turned to Neville. "You mean … you won't be the Longbottom Heir anymore?"
Neville winced and looked almost bashful. "More like … I won't be a Longbottom anymore. I won't be under the Sanction like Theo is, but … as of tonight, I'm officially Neville No-Name."
He unexpectedly smiled.
"Which is kind of catchy now that I think about it." He turned to Theo. "Hey, after Hogwarts, we should move in together. We can tell everyone we're 'the No-Name Brothers' and, I dunno, solve crimes together or something."
Theo smiled wanly. Harry didn't smile at all. He just wondered how many more disasters he'd have to sit through before the night was over.
Back at Hogwarts …
"Remus Lupin … is dead?" McGonagall said in shock. "And … he was here at Hogwarts this whole time? Disguised as Mr. Sturgeon? But how did I not recognize him?"
Behind her, Ron had his arm around Jim who was devastated at the news. The sound of his sobs tore at James's heart, but he was here in an official capacity now.
"Apparently, Albus summoned Remus here to Hogwarts to look after Jim undercover and placed him under a Fidelius. I myself was not made aware until earlier this evening. And now that Remus is … dead, the Fidelius has failed since the subject matter of the Secret is no longer valid."
He took a step forward. "Professor, have you any way of knowing where my other son is? Or of finding him?"
"Not immediately, but I can order that all students report to their Common Rooms for a head count."
"Please do."
She stepped back into the castle. But before she could close the door, Jim slipped past her.
"Dad, is Uncle Pete okay? I heard his voice from the Forbidden Forest earlier! Is he out there somewhere?"
James's mouth froze as he struggled with how he could possibly answer such a question. Luckily (or unluckily, perhaps), he was saved by an unexpected interruption.
"Yes, Dad. Where is good old Uncle Pete?"
James turned in surprise. It was Harry emerging through a nearby archway in the wall that separated this part of the castle from the Forest and the Whomping Willow. Despite his time in the Forbidden Forest, the boy was not muddy or disheveled. Indeed, his hair was once again perfectly styled, a testament to Harry's skills at grooming Charms and the magic of Sleekeazy, a tube of which he naturally kept handy even when a prisoner or on the run for his life.
While Harry drew everyone's attention by boldly walking up to his father (for whatever sort of Gryffindorish confrontation the man wanted to have), Neville and Theo were sneaking around to a side entrance to the Castle. His friends were unhappy with this plan, but Harry knew such a confrontation was inevitable – he had Stunned the Chief Auror and Lord of his House, after all – so he figured it would be best to use it as a distraction.
To that end, Harry's plan was successful, as neither James nor Jim nor any of the Aurors spotted either Theo and Neville before they made it into the castle or a certain Hippogriff and its rider as they swiftly receded into the distance.
A certain private meeting room near the entrance to the Dungeons
9:00 p.m.
As Harry entered the meeting room, he wrinkled his nose in disdain. The room his father had picked for this "interview" was the same one Pettigrew had chosen during his Second Year – the meeting Harry had described as the "confidential threaten Harry session." There were no portraits here, and James wasted no time setting up the most powerful security Charms he knew before turning to face his Heir.
"Where is Sirius Black?" he said without preamble.
Harry gave him a disdainful look. "What's interesting about that question is that you assume I know anything at all. And you do so simply because Peter Pettigrew - the Death Eater who admitted to lying to you and betraying you for over a decade before leaving us both to die at the claws of a werewolf - suggested that I did."
James grew angry at Harry's impertinence, but, oddly, for the first time in many months, Harry honestly didn't care at all about what his father thought. Sirius was free, and soon, Scrimgeour would reveal the "Marcellus Frump conspiracy" to Wizarding Britain, proving that Black was innocent and wrongly convicted while exposing both Peter Pettigrew and Narcissa Black as Death Eaters.
Assuming, of course, that James didn't do the right thing himself by reopening the Black case while putting a warrant out for Pettigrew's arrest, but Harry was past waiting for James Potter to do the right thing. In any case, Sirius had already renewed his Godfather's Oath. At this point, even if James tried to disown him, Harry felt confident that Artie and Hestia could keep matters tied up in the Wizengamot until he came of age. But even if they couldn't, Harry would automatically become a Black if he were disowned as a Potter.
James stared at his son for several seconds, seemingly regarding him as he would any other criminal suspect.
"Okay, here's a different question." He took a step towards Harry. "What is the Prince of Slytherin?"
That question caught the boy by surprise. Not enough to cost him his composure, of course – by now he was a 4th Level Occlumens. But if James had possessed any degree of Legilimency himself, he would have detected a reaction of surprise quickly concealed.
"I don't understand," Harry answered. "We don't have princes in Wizarding Britain, and even if we did, Slytherin was never a Noble house."
"Stop evading!" James sputtered angrily. "I don't know what the words mean. But I know they mean something. And I know you know what!"
Harry stared at his father in confusion. This was not how he'd expected this conversation to go at all.
"Then first tell me what you know. And why this 'Prince of Slytherin' business is so important to you."
James shook his head. "I can't. But I can tell you this. The Prince of Slytherin, whoever he is, must never be a Potter! I cannot stress to you how vital that is! Everything depends on it."
The kaleidoscope in Harry's head whirred and clicked and he gaped at James in astonishment.
"This … this is why you've been acting this way," he said quietly. "From the very start! It's why you sent me that Howler on my very first day of school! You were afraid my Sorting meant that I would become not just a Slytherin, but the Prince of Slytherin!"
Then, despite himself, Harry let out a snort of laughter. "And all you could think to do about it was get drunk and then threaten me over it! Does Lily know all this?"
James nodded. "She does now. She didn't back then. For … for what it's worth, she's on your side, though an oath prevents her from revealing anything about this." He looked away and blinked his eyes. "I'm probably going to lose her over this."
"You don't have to," Harry said calmly. "Lose her, that is. Or me. Just tell me what this is all about, and maybe we can resolve it."
James stared at him for several seconds, enough for Harry to become unnerved. Something in the man's expression looked … broken.
"I'm sorry," the man finally said. "I truly am. I wish it were that easy. But I have no choice now." And then, he drew his wand.
Harry took a step back. "What are you doing?"
"Hadrian Remus Potter, I hereby accuse you of conspiring with the Death Eater Sirius Black and against the people and government of Wizarding Britain!"
"What?! Sirius Black is innocent! You know he's innocent! Pettigrew admitted it in front of you! Hell, he's probably the one who put Jim under the Imperius too!"
James flinched and looked away at that. Harry realized the truth at once and gaped in astonishment.
"No … no, he didn't, did he! It was you! You put one of your own sons under the Imperius just to make him hate the other one!"
"I didn't …!" James caught himself before making any fatal admissions. "That's not true," he said lamely.
Harry looked at his father with contempt. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. What matters is that Peter Pettigrew is the one who really betrayed our family. Sirius Black is innocent. And any day now, the truth will be revealed to everyone, and Sirius will be free!"
"Perhaps," James answered. "And if that happens, I hope he will forgive me for my sins against him. But for now, and in the eyes of the Wizengamot, Sirius Black is a Death Eater."
He stiffened and held his wand aloft.
"As the Lord of House Potter, I declare before Magic itself that I find the accusations of Peter Pettigrew that you have aided and abetted Sirius Black to be credible. And by providing such aid, you have proven yourself a traitor to this nation!"
Harry's eyes widened as he finally realized just what was happening. "No!" he spat.
"And so, as Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, I, Iacomus Charlus Potter …"
"Don't. You. Dare!"
"… do hereby invoke Sanctumen Ultimo and declare you Outcast … Hadrian Remus No-Name!"
Rage, greater than any Harry had ever felt before, exploded across his mind, washing past his Occlumency shields like a typhoon. Instinctively, his hand twitched and prepared to spring his wand for a duel, even as his mind raced through every offensive spell he knew. The man was less than five feet away and already had his wand out. Harry would have to be faster than he'd ever been. Could James disarm Harry before the boy could get a spell off? Because if not, Harry had already dismembered a werewolf tonight with a Parselmagic Sectumsempra, and he suspected not even an Auror could cast a shield that would deflect it in time.
Because this was what Harry had realized in the split second after James had invoked the Ultimate Sanction: Unlike a standard disowning, the Sanction cut through all existing oath-based connections recognized by the Wizengamot. He'd studied the law thoroughly after Theo had been cursed with it, though he'd never imagined that James would be so cruel as to use it against him or even that he himself would be so foolish as to give him plausible grounds to do so. And Harry realized now just how bad this would be.
The Godfather Oath sworn by Sirius was nullified, and Sirius would not be able to otherwise adopt him without first being sworn in officially as Lord Black … at which point, he too would hate Harry irrationally despite all the time they'd spent together. Worse, an Outcast under the effects of the Ultimate Sanction could not claim any Noble inheritance. That meant that the inheritance he'd provisionally claimed through Lily's secret ancestry – and which he'd planned to use to save Amy Wilkes from her forced marriage! – would be denied to him. And the final insult: Even if staying at Hogwarts as a Slytherin for another four years was at all feasible, there was no way that the Hydra Throne would ever accept an Outcast as Prince.
At a stroke, he'd lost everything.
Everything but the possibility of revenge.
Harry's anger was so great that it had robbed him of the power to speak, the power to feel, and nearly the power to think. He remembered Neville, his compass, making him promise "no death, dismemberment, or permanent injuries." He didn't care. He imagined Hermione begging him not to become a cold-blooded killer. He didn't care. He remembered the guilt he'd felt after killing Remus Lupin. He didn't care. He pictured Neville, Hermione and Theo standing between him and James and knowing that he'd have to cut through them to get to his father. He didn't care. He wondered briefly what Azkaban would be like, for he felt certain that he'd be sent there for killing the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House who was also Chief Auror, no matter how young he was.
And he didn't care.
The desire to see James Potter dead for this betrayal, for what he'd done to Harry and indirectly to Amy (and probably Theo and Neville, once Harry could no longer protect them) overwhelmed every other thought. And the picture of James Potter, flying across the room in bloody chunks, filled every inch of his mind. Nothing could stop him from killing his father or dying in the attempt.
Until one thing did.
Because even as a homicidal rage stormed through Harry's mind, a completely unexpected realization suddenly came to him. "I have felt this way before!" The sudden and terrible sense of déjà vu surprised Harry so much that, despite himself, he instinctively opened a second thought stream to analyze it. And then, he remembered.
"They told me you were both dead. That you were a drunk and were always on the dole. That my mother sold herself to pay for drugs for the both of you. That you killed yourself and mother while you were both drunk and high in an auto accident that I barely survived."
"Those were lies, Harry. Filthy awful lies."
"I know. I've always known that they were lying to me about my mother and father. But I never imagined that one day I'd wish it had been the truth."
And then, 11-year-old Harry went inside and slammed the door in his father's face because that was all he could do! He'd only just gotten a wand. He didn't know a single spell. He knew he couldn't do anything to this preening man-child who had walked back into his life after putting him through ten years of hell and then expecting to just pick up where they'd left off as if nothing had happened between them. It would be many months before Harry found the strength to let go of that barely restrained homicidal impulse while talking to Neville by the shores of Black Lake, and many, many more before he could entertain the merest possibility of forgiving his father. But on that first day, he'd have killed James Potter without hesitation if only he'd had the means.
It was only now, after years spent honing his Occlumency and Legilimency that he could feel that same rage again, compare it to his earlier rage, and detect something he'd never noticed before.
He could sense … it.
He didn't know what it was, but he knew intuitively that it was the reason Muggles feared him. That it was the thing that Luna Lovegood could not see inside him because of how well it concealed itself (except for when she caught it by surprise and could sense its malice). And now, Harry realized, it wanted him to kill James. To give in to patricidal rage and cut down his own father in cold blood.
And Harry somehow knew that if he did so, it would win. And the boy would be lost to a fate he didn't understand except that it was somehow worse than death. Worse even than Azkaban.
Harry forced his wand hand to relax. From somewhere deep inside himself, he could almost hear the howl of impotent fury as it receded into the lowest, most primal depths of the boy's mind to hide once more.
The boy took three slow breaths before trusting himself to speak.
"Why?" he asked quietly. His tone was exactly the same as when he'd asked his father that question over a bowl of ice cream on his 11th birthday.
"I'm … sorry. I can't …."
"I was wrong, of course. I see that now. This didn't start with my Sorting. It started when I was a baby. Whatever is driving you to do this is also what got me sent to the Dursleys! It's because of you that my childhood was an absolute misery. And now, you've ruined the rest of my life. So, James Potter, you will tell me why you have done this to me, or you will admit to me now that the Lord of House Potter is a COWARD WITH NO CONCEPT OF HONOR!"
James took a step back despite himself in the face of Harry's accusations. He stared at the boy who had been his Heir before tonight and then swallowed painfully.
"I'll need you to swear an oath," he croaked in a voice just above a whisper. "A special one."
"Of course, you do," Harry said contemptuously. And then, he raised his wand and repeated the words of the Potter Oath as James provided for him.
"I, Hadrian Remus … No-Name, make this Oath on my magic and on my soul. That from this moment forward until the day I die, I will keep the Secret of House Potter in my heart and share it with no outsiders. Let Magic itself bind my tongue against revelation both deliberate and unintentional save when speaking to those who are already witness to the Secret. Let the Secret preserve itself not just against my betrayal but also my indiscretion. So mote it be."
It was an unusual oath, and apparently one custom-designed for House Potter exclusively for the preservation of this family secret. It didn't punish Harry for revealing the Secret. It made him physically incapable of doing so. No Legilimens would ever be able to find it in his mind, and if he tried to discuss any part of the Secret with someone who didn't already know it, then he would literally be unable to form the words. Indeed, he would find himself unable to speak about the Secret even with another sworn Potter if someone else was eavesdropping, even if Harry didn't know the eavesdropper was there!
As he completed the Oath, Harry No-Name felt tendrils of magic wriggle into his body from somewhere else and come to rest encircling his heart, his tongue, and the back of his head, and he knew that he was bound from that moment until the day he died.
"Satisfied?" he spat. "Now get on with it!"
James's face flushed at the disrespect, but then, he just shook it off. It wasn't as if he had any reason to think Harry would ever respect him again. He closed his eyes … and began.
"This is how our world will end, In a cold yet all-consuming flame."
Potter Manor
July 31, 1780
11:49 p.m.
The party had been a smashing success, and Lady Antigone Potter was justifiably proud. The crème de le crème of British Wizarding society had come to celebrate her recent ascension to the position of Minister of Magic, the youngest woman to ever be appointed to the position in any ICW member-nation since the passage of the Statute of Secrecy over 100 years earlier. In addition to the most influential British wizards and witches, her home had also been opened to foreign dignitaries from across Europe who had come to fete the new Minister (and bend her ear to whatever diplomatic proposals their governments wished to promote).
Indeed, she was so pleased by how her party had gone that she hardly even cared that Lord Potter had also invited his mistress.
Upstairs, Nathaniel Potter poked his head into a large but mostly empty room on the second floor. He'd always thought that the house had too many parlors, and he'd been considering making this a music room or something. Of course, he didn't play himself, but he was thinking of taking up an instrument as a hobby. The cello, perhaps. Nathaniel's son and Heir, Hardwin Potter, had recently married and moved into a home of his own, and Nathaniel's "loving wife" spent every waking moment on dull politics. Consequently, Nathaniel anticipated lots of boredom in his future.
After all, it would be improper to sneak Cassandra into both his house and his marital bed every day.
"I say, is anyone in here?" he asked to the seemingly empty room before entering. "The coast, as the Muggles say, is clear."
The Lady Cassandra Trelawney followed him into the room still holding a glass of champagne. She looked around the dim parlor cautiously.
"Are you quite sure, Nathaniel? I'm certain I saw the Italian Ambassador heading up the stairs ahead of us."
Nathaniel laughed. "I do believe he's actually just an attaché, my pet, but to appease you, I'll check again." He fake-coughed. "Ahem! I SAY, ARE THERE ANY DAGO DIPLOMATS HIDING ANYWHERE IN HERE?"
"Nathaniel!" Cassandra snapped as she swatted his arm with her hand. "This is an important night for your wife! And I will thank you not to embarrass her by insulting her guests with Muggle vulgarities!" She took a sip of champagne. "It's bad enough that you've dragged me away from such a delightful party for an assignation in a dimly-lit parlor!"
Nathaniel snorted. "She has her courtiers to fawn over her. That's all she needs to be happy. She can let me find my own happiness however I choose."
He leaned in closely to gently kiss the famous seer. She did not resist. After the kiss, he pulled back to look at her fondly.
"I should have married you," he said in a low husky voice. "No matter what your damnable cards said."
"The cards said no, Nat," she answered gently. "The orb, the mirror, and the bones all agreed. For all her faults, Antigone was the best match for you. If you are unhappy about it, you could always ask her to renew your marital vows and drink Amortentia with her again."
He reached up with a finger and carefully pushed aside a stray lock of her hair. "I'd rather have the real thing with you than the falsity of Amortentia with her."
"The Unspeakables assure us that there is no meaningful difference between the two."
"They're wrong. I should know."
And then, he leaned in to kiss her once more, this time with a fierce passion the seeress returned. The kiss lasted until it was interrupted by the sound of her champagne glass falling to the floor and shattering. The crash distracted Nathaniel for a moment, and he pulled away from the kiss … and then staggered away in shock.
Cassandra Trelawney's eyes had gone solid white.
Her whole body was rigid and frozen, and yet her hair seemed to writhe around her as if it had come alive like the Medusa of legend. The temperature of the room plunged, and even as his breath suddenly fogged in front of his face, Nathaniel looked around wildly as he felt Magic and Fate swirling in the air around him like living things. The wizard tried to move back towards his lover, but he found himself frozen as well, a helpless witness to Prophecy. And when Cassandra finally spoke, it was with a voice not her own, one that was alien to this world, to Reality itself!
This is how our world will end
In a cold yet all-consuming flame.
In the Last Days, a Dark Lord, the Darkest Lord,
Will reveal himself as both Savior and Betrayer
By proclaiming his forbidden lineage to all.
He will break the Chains of Unity that bond us and bind us.
He will defy all conventions of sanity and compassion.
He will shatter the foundations of our covenant.
And in so doing, the Dark Lord will become a Dark God,
And all shall tremble at his Apotheosis.
He will stretch forth his hand.
And every wand will snap,
Every incantation will be silenced,
Until we shall all be as the lowliest squib.
Yet helplessness is not our worst Fate.
For when the Cold Flame has consumed the World,
The Last Enemy to be conquered shall be Death.
And the Victor of that final struggle shall claim
Dominion over all that is,
Whether for Oblivion… or Damnation.
For should the Dark God win that final battle,
Then our world will be reborn in his image.
A world of hate, of fear, of despair.
A world of suffering without end.
And we shall be reborn into this Nightmare World
Again and again and again.
Trapped forever throughout all our lives
In the Dark God's HELL!
And you shall know by these portents
That the time of the Dark God approaches
And the Destruction of our World
Is close at hand:
When the Two who should be as One
Are set against each other in reckless hate.
And the Last Potter rises as the Prince of Slytherin.
As Cassandra's final warning of "the Last Potter" and "the Prince of Slytherin" echoed through the room, her paralysis was finally broken. Her eyes returned to normal before rolling back up into her head. Her knees buckled and she began to fall. Luckily, her lover's own paralysis was broken as well, and he rushed forward to catch her before she hit the ground. He laid her gently to the floor and then patted her cheek until her eyes fluttered.
"Wh-what happened?" she asked weakly.
"You … my love, I – I think you have just given a True Prophecy!"
She looked up at the man in confusion … and then concern when she noted his expression. "Was it … bad?" she asked.
Nathaniel hesitated. "I … yes. Your words were … terrible. I fear for us all now."
She struggled to sit up. "Then help me up, Nat. We must hasten to a pensieve! I would know what Fate compelled me to say! Only then can we make our plans!"
Dazedly, Lord Potter helped his mistress to stand and then they quickly left the room.
A few seconds of silence passed before the curtains that separated the large bay windows from the rest of the room were jerked aside, and the two figures who'd been hiding behind them stepped back into the room. One was a wizard with olive skin and jet-black hair who was busily stuffing the bottom of his expensive silk shirt back into his knee-length breeches before buttoning them back up. The other was a young British witch of perhaps twenty-five who was struggling to restore her petticoats to their proper position.
"What in Merlin's name was that all about?!" the young woman asked. "Did you hear what Lady Cassandra said?!"
"I did indeed, cara mia," the man answered in a cultured Italian accent.
"Well? Do you think that was really a True Prophecy?!"
Then, to the woman's shock, she suddenly noticed that her paramour had produced his wand and was now pointing it directly at her face.
"Do not trouble yourself about it, cara mia," said Armand Zabini, attaché to the Italian Ambassador and Heir to the House of Zabini. "It's not your concern. OBLIVIATE!
Now …
"A prophecy! You have made my life an absolute misery since I was in nappies because of another damned prophecy!"
James winced at Harry's accusation. "Nathaniel, with the guidance of Cassandra Trelawney, took certain steps to ensure that the Prophecy would never come to pass. Or failing that, to delay it as long as possible. For 200 years, each generation of Potters has only produced one child, always a boy. And we've always taught our children how not to be Sorted into Slytherin. And it worked until …."
"Until you had twins," Harry said coldly. "And then decided to handle the situation as stupidly as possible."
The man ignored the insult. "I didn't even know the Prophecy myself until well after you and Jim were born. My own parents were planning to tell me when I turned 21, but they were both dead by then, and we were all living in Godric's Hollow instead of Potter Manor. I just happened to find a copy of the Prophecy orb in my father's safe when we returned to the Manor months after You-Know-Who's attack."
"At which point, you decided that I and my twin brother were doomed to be set against each other in reckless hate, so you sent me off to be abused by Muggles for ten years."
"I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THAT!" James yelled in anguish. "I'm sorry, Harry! Believe me! I never wanted anything like that to happen to you!"
He rubbed his face with his hand before continuing. "The Healers said that you were a squib and that you were likely a squib because of something Jim did to your magic in the course of vanquishing You-Know-Who! I couldn't take the chance that you'd be jealous of Jim's power and fame. That you'd try to reclaim your magic somehow by hurting him. That you'd hate us all because we had magic and you didn't. So … I sent you to Petunia. I thought it was for the Greater Good."
"For the Greater Good," Harry scoffed. "You know, I had a conversation last year with the Headmaster. And he told me that he thought 'for the Greater Good' were the four most dangerous words in the English language. Because people can use them to excuse anything if they persuade themselves that it's worth it in the end."
Then, Harry raised his chin defiantly. "So anyway, you sent me to the Dursleys because you thought I was a squib and then washed your hands of me. But later, I came to Hogwarts as a wizard. And while we didn't get along at first, Jim and I eventually came together. We were getting along fine! If your big fear was me and Jim locked together in reckless hate, then why the hell would you Imperio Jim to hate me?!"
James stood abashed at the question. "That was … unintentional. I heard from him about your connection to the Prince of Slytherin. Ron remembered from his possession that you and Tom Riddle had talked about it, and … I panicked. I didn't want him to hate you. I just wanted him to let me know if you did anything … suspicious. But the spell went wrong somehow. And I will be ashamed of myself for that moment of weakness until the day I die."
"But not ashamed of what you've done to me," Harry said bluntly.
"No, I will always be ashamed of this! I will always regret this, Harry, with all my heart!" James exclaimed, his voice breaking. "I know you won't believe me. But I never wanted any of this to happen. But you know the Prophecy now! The whole world burning and then turning into HELL! Literally everything is at stake! I would die myself if it meant saving the world from that. But … that's not an option. All I can do is whatever I can to make sure you don't become the Prince of Slytherin. Or if I can't stop that, then make sure you're not a Potter when it happens. Those are the only options Fate has left me. I … I hope someday you'll understand and, perhaps, forgive me."
Harry just stared at him.
"Will that be all … Lord Potter?" he finally said in a voice like ice.
"I … I won't file the official paperwork until Monday. The Wizengamot doesn't meet until then anyway. So no one will ... will hate you for the Sanction until then. And your trust vault will still be yours, even after the Sanction goes into effect. I'll transfer some more money into it this weekend. Fifty thousand galleons. That'll be enough for you to start over … far from here."
Harry continued to stare.
"Will that be all, Lord Potter?" he repeated.
James nodded weakly. Harry walked past him towards the door before stopping and reaching into his pocket to pull out Peter's wand which he handed over.
"Pettigrew's wand. It'll show he used all three Unforgivables today. Unless you just plan to cover it up because that's easier than admitting you blindly trusted a Death Eater for all these years. Easy solutions seem to be your style."
James took the wand. "I promise you, Harry. Peter Pettigrew will be brought to justice for what he did tonight. I promise you."
Harry snorted contemptuously. The man's promises meant nothing to him at this point.
"You know, I do think you're definitely wrong about one thing."
"Only one?" James said in a weak attempt at humor. Harry ignored him.
"The Two who should be as One set against each other in reckless Hate. You assume that's me and Jim. But I think you're wrong. I think the Two who should be as One refers to a Lord and his Heir who should be united as one in support of their House."
Harry narrowed his eyes, and James leaned back at the sight of their intensity.
"And I promise – I will never stop hating you for what you've done to me today. Never. I will hate you from beyond the grave for this."
And then, without another word, Harry moved to the door to open it … only to see Jim waiting out in the hall for the meeting to conclude.
"Harry?" Jim asked uncertainly.
"Congratulations, Potter," Harry said with a sneer. "You win." And then, he strode past his former brother without another concern. Jim watched him go and then turned to his father.
"What did you do?" he asked with an angry, suspicious glare.
Out in the hallway …
Upon leaving the meeting room, Harry had the first bit of good news he'd seen in hours – Severus Snape was alive and waiting for him.
"I am … pleased to see you, Professor. Peter Pettigrew indicated that he'd left you to die."
Snape sneered. "Did he? Well, I hope you are astute enough not to take the word of someone like him at face value. Come, Mr. Potter. It is after curfew, and I will escort you to the dungeons."
Snape turned and headed down the stairs with Harry falling into step beside him.
"You should probably know, sir – Potter's not my name anymore. It's Harry No-Name now."
Snape hissed at that and then muttered something barely audible about "contemptible swine."
"I see," he said aloud. "I'm sure I don't need to explain to you the difficulties this will present for you going forward."
"No, sir. You do not."
"Likewise, I'm sure I don't need to explain to you that these difficulties are not insurmountable. I have spent the better part of three years inculcating Slytherin values in you for a reason. No matter how dire the situation, I expect you to adapt with your usual cunning and poise and overcome it."
"I will do my best, sir." Harry paused. "By the way, how are you still alive?"
"I was taken prisoner by a Gryffindor who imagines himself to be a dark wizard. Rather than eliminating me in any remotely sensible way, he left me in a contrived death trap which he constructed according to my own advice. He had given me Veritaserum from my own stocks, you see."
Harry nodded. "And since it was your own stocks, you were unaffected by it?"
"Regrettably, that was not the case. I was affected normally. However, I am a master Occlumens, and one of the higher-order Occlumency techniques involves the creation of contingent secondary personalities. For example, in the event I am given Veritaserum, several contingencies may come into play, and one of them is automatically triggered whenever I am asked a question for which a truthful response will likely lead to my immediate death. In such a case, the secondary persona fabricates a lie that will extricate me from danger and induces my primary persona to temporarily believe it to be true. In this instance, Pettigrew asked me for a recommendation as to how he could murder me in an engineered potions accident. The contingency activated, and Pettigrew left me unconscious near a potion that I had told him would produce a poisonous gas, but which was actually a pain remedy for rheumatoid arthritis."
"Brilliant, Professor."
Snape's expression soured.
"Not brilliant enough, I fear. The process of designing and implementing such contingency personalities is time-consuming, and I had not yet had the opportunity to develop any such contingency regarding the Wolfsbane Potion. Pettigrew now knows everything that I know about it. It will take him time to find someone competent to brew it successfully, but eventually, he will be able to provide transformed werewolves with human intelligence. A fearsome prospect for the entire world."
Harry nodded but said nothing. They continued in silence until they reached the door to the Slytherin dormitory.
"What do you plan to do next, Mr. P- … Mr. No-Name?"
"I plan to go to bed, Professor Snape. It's been a very long day, and I'm tired. I have another three days before Lord Potter files the paperwork to finalize the Ultimate Sanction. Hopefully, I'll figure out something clever. Or failing that, maybe a miracle will happen. Surely I'm due one by now."
"Slytherins make their own miracles, Mr. … Harry. Do not give up hope."
Harry had no response for that. He entered the dormitory but didn't stop to speak with anyone else before heading up to his room. Not for the first time, he found himself very glad that Slytherin rooms were now private. Once inside, he quickly changed clothes and got into bed. He glanced at his watch. Amazingly, it wasn't even 10 o'clock yet.
Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a soft ringing from his bag. Harry sighed in resignation and reached down for it. Inside was the parchment he shared with Hermione, which he withdrew and activated.
Hermione: Harry? Are you there? Please answer me.
Harry: I'm here, Hermione. What's up?
Hermione: Don't "What's up?" me, Harry Potter. First, Neville came back to the Tower looking as though he'd run a marathon and implying that he'd been disowned. Then, Jim came back looking as though he'd been crying. And now, I find that Aurors have come to Hogwarts and that there are werewolves in the Forbidden Forest and the Caretaker is dead and Neville just says, "talk to Harry!" So, what on Earth has been going on?
Harry: Well first of all, don't call me Harry Potter anymore. And kindly let Neville know that I'll need a room with him and Theo as, apparently, we're going to be the No-Name triplets.
There was a pause of several seconds.
Hermione: He didn't!
Harry: He did.
Hermione: That *%!*$# &!
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry laughed out loud.
Harry: Hermione, did you add something to these parchments to censor profanity?
Hermione: … maybe. But that doesn't matter! How could he do something like that to you!
Harry started to write a response, but his hand froze over the parchment. In his chest, he could suddenly feel the magic of the Potter Oath constricting him, ensuring that telling Hermione anything about the matter that he shouldn't was simply impossible now. He huffed to himself and then set the quill to the parchment.
Harry: He has his reasons. I think they're stupid reasons, but he has them. That's all I can say.
Hermione: Harry, please – tell me what all happened tonight!
Harry: Honestly, Hermione. I don't even know what I can say to you. I'm under two different binding oaths right now! All I can really say is that I watched Marcus Flint get murdered by Peter Pettigrew, and then I had to kill a werewolf in self-defense, and then my father finally found a trumped-up reason to disown me but went the extra mile of using the Ultimate Sanction to do it.
Harry: Oh, and Pettigrew the Death Eater got away with a formula that will allow werewolves to maintain their intelligence while transformed, so we also have a Werewolf Apocalypse to worry about. I suppose I should mention that instead of just whinging about my own personal problems.
Hermione: A … Werewolf … Apocalypse.
Harry: Yes. A Werewolf Apocalypse.
Hermione: Well, that sounds dreadful, and I should probably practice Sectumsempra tomorrow just to be on the safe side.
Harry: You should. It works very well for that purpose.
Hermione: AHEM! As I was about to say, none of that is your fault. Peter Pettigrew is the villain. And, I suppose, so is your father who I have decided is a vile fiend. But not you.
Harry: I don't know, Hermione. There's plenty of blame to share. I mean, none of this would have happened if I hadn't let Mr. Sturgeon have my map.
Hermione: I have no idea what that means.
Harry: Long story. Let's just say that yesterday morning, I foolishly allowed Mr. Sturgeon who was also Remus Lupin under a Fidelius and thus a close friend of Peter Pettigrew to have a magical map I had in my possession and that's what started all of this.
The Gryffindor witch didn't respond for nearly thirty seconds. Harry assumed she'd spent all that time unpacking his last message which he suddenly realized contained a lot of information poorly arranged.
Hermione: So if you hadn't given the Caretaker this magical map, we would not now be facing an army of werewolves under the command of a Death Eater who is also armed with a law degree?
Harry: Pretty much. Now if you have no further questions, Hermione, I'm really pretty tired right now. Also depressed and violently angry towards a certain Chief Auror, but mainly tired.
Hermione: Okay.
Hermione: Harry, can you meet with me in the morning? In the room that the Goldstein Group was using for our Ancient Runes project?
Harry: I suppose so. What time?
Hermione: 9: 15. Exactly. No sooner, no later.
Harry: I've got Ancient Runes then. Come to think of it, so do you.
Hermione: Skip it.
Harry: And why should I skip class to help you and Anthony with your little project?
There was a second pause, a much longer one, before she finally answered.
Hermione: Because it will change your life.
Hermione: Tomorrow morning at 9:15. See you then. Good night, Harry.
Harry stared at his friend's last cryptic message for several minutes before he finally put the parchment away and tried to get some sleep.
28 March 1994
7:30 a.m.
Harry was reluctantly on his way down to breakfast when he heard the unmistakeable sound of Augusta Longbottom's angry voice in a Howler addressed to Neville that had just erupted at the Gryffindor table. He glanced in to see Neville accepting the verbal assault stoically before turning away. It was yet another thing for Harry to feel guilty over, and as the boy had quite enough of those in his life right now, he chose to forego breakfast rather than witness the scene. In any case, he was distracted from the Howler by the approach of one of the Slytherin prefects who handed him a message and then quickly left without even speaking to him.
Harry –
I returned to Hogwarts late last night in response to a Patronus message from Professor Snape but felt it best to let you get some rest. I should very much like to speak to you about last night's events before the start of this morning's classes. Please come to my office as soon as you get this missive. I am very partial to Chocolate Frogs.
The Headmaster
He stared at the letter for a long moment before trudging off in the direction of Dumbledore's office.
Ten minutes later, the young Slytherin was seated in front of the old wizard's desk. Dumbledore was looking at him with great sadness and, Harry suspected, some measure of guilt, though the boy didn't know why. He glanced around the room and noticed the portraits were stilled. This would be a private conversation.
"Mr. – Harry. I … I cannot express to you how sorry I am that this happened. I never imagined that James would go to such lengths as this. I just wanted you to know that I will help you in any way I can to overcome this … curse."
"Thank you, Headmaster. I'm grateful. Although I think Theo and Neville will probably need more help than I will."
"Of course. Please let them know that the offer extends to them as well."
Dumbledore looked at Harry strangely for a moment as if considering his next words. Harry returned the scrutiny, and after a moment of thought, he realized that he did not feel the constriction of the Potter Oath in this room. Suddenly, he thought he knew why the portraits had been stilled.
"Sir … do you know why James used the Ultimate Sanction on me? Specifically?"
The old man hesitated before finally nodding. "Yes, Harry. James swore me to the Potter Oath at the end of your First Year after your confrontation with Voldemort. It was the only way he would reveal to me the Prophecy which was the reason for his unnatural hostility towards you."
"You've known all this time?!"
"Yes. But I have also learned through painful experience that trying to circumvent a True Prophecy is a recipe for disaster. Indeed, I learned that lesson most explicitly just before your father shared the information with me, when I realized how my efforts to circumvent the Prophecy regarding your brother had failed so disastrously. I could not persuade your father to be more reasonable, but neither could I intervene directly. Aside from the effects of the oath I swore to him, it would have been difficult for me to provide any meaningful assistance for legal and political reasons. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I have considerable power to influence the lives of orphans and Muggleborns through my in loco parentis authority. But when a child's parents are not only living, but also extremely influential and politically powerful individuals, my authority is much more constrained.
"And so, I decided the safest course of action was to simply ignore the Potter Prophecy completely and treat you like I would any other student." Then, he coughed with mild embarrassment. "Well, any other student who was an undeniably gifted Heir to an Ancient and Noble House, at least."
Harry chuckled. "I thank you for that, sir. That was probably the smart play. Oh, not to change of topic, but you should know that I was never able to figure out that Remus Lupin was a werewolf until Pettigrew showed me the parchment with the Secret written on it. I'm pretty sure I was told that Lupin was a werewolf at least twice but could never hold the information in my head."
"Thank you for letting me know. Though I deeply regret now my decision to involve you in that experiment. Perhaps if you'd known all along about Remus's condition, things might have played out differently with Mr. Pettigrew … and Remus himself." He looked at the boy sadly. "How are you holding up after … what happened to Remus?"
"I … don't know. I still feel there was no other way. I literally had a split second to decide what to do…."
"And you did the only thing you could. I insisted that James provide me with a pensieve memory of that encounter. While I cannot do anything to reverse the Ultimate Sanction, if he or anyone else attempts to threaten you with any legal consequences, I would be happy to testify on your behalf that it was self-defense."
"I appreciate that, Headmaster. So … you know I'm a Parselmouth, then."
"I did notice that detail, yes. Though to be honest, I'd suspected as much since Jim was revealed as one last year. The idea that he acquired the gift through a 'magical right of conquest' always struck me as nonsensical. And given your own circumstances, I can hardly begrudge your decision to conceal that ability. I must confess that I am unfamiliar with the precise curse you used. I believe the incantation was … Sectumsempra?"
"Er, yes," Harry said in surprise. "Professor … are you a Parselmouth?"
Dumbledore smiled. "I have always been fascinated with magical languages, and I undertook a study of Parseltongue as a side project in my younger days. Regrettably, I had a mild stammer as a child, and while I overcame it in my normal speech through diligent effort, it remained just prominent enough to prevent me from correctly pronouncing words in Parseltongue. I do understand it fluently, though. As for the Curse you used, I did not recognize it, but I surmise it was simply a heavily modified Lacero interwoven with the Weeping Blood Curse. While the DMLE would likely classify it as dark magic, it is obviously uniquely suited for use against werewolves, and I would testify to that as well if you should need me to do so."
"Thank you, Headmaster. I'm … sorry about Mr. Lupin. I know he was a friend of yours and, of course, very close to Jim. I wish there had been another way."
Then, Harry grew thoughtful. "Actually, there's one thing that might have caused events to play out differently. I mean, not once we were already tied up in the Shrieking Shack, but earlier perhaps. Did you ever have any luck getting a copy of that potion from the Unspeakables? The one that counteracts the potion Pettigrew used to Memory Charm my … I mean, Lily and James to forget who their Secret Keeper was?"
Dumbledore looked chagrined. "In point of fact, Saul Croaker gave me several vials of the antidote in question a few days ago, along with a sample of the potion itself. I had resolved to meet with Lily and James next week upon my return from Paris and persuade them to try the antidote. In retrospect, I should have done so earlier, and all of this might have been avoided."
"You couldn't have known that ahead of time, sir," Harry said reassuringly. "It's not like you could know the future."
Dumbledore said nothing, but he suddenly leaned forward in his chair and stared at Harry with an odd intensity.
"Sir?" Harry asked cautiously.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Nothing, Harry. Nothing. Just … an old man's fancy. Tell me, have you any particular plans for the morning? You've had a great trauma, and I would understand if you would like to … take some time off and think about things. Or perhaps spend time with friends?"
Harry shrugged. "No particular plans other than classes. I have to meet with Hermione at some point this morning, though she's being cryptic about what."
"… is she indeed?" Dumbledore said quietly. Then, he reached into his desk and produced a hall pass upon which he wrote a message and signed his name. "Here, take this. Consider it an all-purpose pass to get out of any classes you need."
Harry took the pass and examined it. "There's no date."
"Of course not, Harry. Take whatever time you need."
The boy smiled. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."
"Now, you'd better head along to your meeting with Miss Granger. I'm sure it will be of great importance."
"Honestly," Harry said, "I think she just wants me to help her with a project."
"I have no doubt it's probably a very important one," Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes.
Harry got up to leave the office, but just as he got to the door, the Headmaster called out to him.
"Harry, if anything happens and you need me – really, truly need me at that exact moment in time – just have someone send me a Patronus and I will come at once." The old man bent his head down and looked at Harry over his spectacles. "Obviously, this is not something that you should abuse for frivolous purposes."
"I … wouldn't dream of it, Headmaster." The boy hesitated. "Is there any particular message I should send?"
Dumbledore considered for a moment before smiling at the boy. "Tempus fugit."
"… okay?" Harry said cautiously as he was unfamiliar with the expression. "Have a good day, sir, and thanks for everything!" He turned and left the office, slightly flummoxed by the odd conversation he and Dumbledore had.
9:15 a.m.
Despite his all-purpose hall pass, Harry chose to skip breakfast due to a strong desire not to talk to anyone. Instead, he simply wandered around the school, taking in its sights. He had little expectations of staying here much longer, but he wanted to carry as many memories away with him as possible.
At nine o'clock, Harry started his way towards the classroom-cum-laboratory where Anthony, Su, and Hermione had been conducting experiment into how best to knock Gryffindors unconscious for fun and profit. Fifteen minutes later, he stood at the door to the classroom and wondered what on Earth "because it will change your life" might mean. Deciding it probably couldn't make his life any worse, he opened the door …
And froze in surprise.
Hermione was inside waiting for him by the table that she and the two Ravenclaws had enchanted to fire off a mass Stunner whenever a trigger word was said. But right now, he was less interested in the table than in the object that was sitting on it. It was a strange-looking thing, roughly a foot tall and three feet wide, but it was so oddly shaped that its true dimensions would have been hard to guess. It reminded Harry vaguely of a toy that the Dursleys had bought for Dudley when he'd been 7 or 8: the Rubik's Snake. Naturally, solving the puzzles had been completely beyond Dudley Dursley's ability, and such toys usually ended up in small pieces after a few days of being used to hit Harry in the head.
The object Hermione was currently manipulating was something of that nature but much larger and far more intricate – a complex 3D puzzle with lots of moving parts that could be rotated and spun into a dazzling assortment of different geometric shapes. The exterior sides were coated in a chrome-like metal, while the interior sections were black but with arrays of tiny knobs and dials on each interior surface. The puzzle looked unusual and quite fascinating, so much so that for a second, Harry almost missed the other (and likely more important) detail about the room:
The fact that there were two unconscious men lying on the floor, one of whom he recognized as Saul Croaker, the Voice of the Unspeakables!
"Hermione?" he inquired nervously.
"Come in and close the door, please," she said without looking up from the puzzle box. As she spoke, she rotated different sections of it into new shapes before pausing to consult some notes on the table beside the puzzle.
Harry nervously shut the door behind him and moved closer to the table, his gaze constantly shifting between Hermione, the puzzle box, and the unconscious wizards as he tried to fathom what the hell was going on! Then, he got close enough to see Hermione's notes at last. They appeared to be the witch's Divination project, which was a horoscope she'd done of him.
Before he could speak, Hermione looked up at him with a frighteningly intense expression. "I do hate to keep harping on this, but it might be very important. You're sure you were born at 11:52 on July 31st?"
"Um, yeah. So … is that Saul Croaker of the Unspeakables?"
"Yes," she said as she returned to rotating different sections of the puzzle box. "The other one is Unspeakable Number 17. Apparently, they go by numbers. Like James Bond, I suppose." She paused. "Justin did explain about James Bond, didn't he?"
"Yeah. Bond, James Bond, and all that." He frowned at the non sequitur before trying to get the conversation back on track. "So … why are there two Unspeakables unconscious on the floor?"
"Because I stunned them," she said before making one final adjustment. Then, she pushed two large pieces of the puzzle box from opposite sides, and the different sections of the box suddenly slipped into place together neatly to form a perfect cube, which she immediately spun 180 degrees before pushing the whole thing towards Harry. He looked down at it and noticed that on the top where the different sections had come together there was a small circular piece right in the middle that was a slightly different color than the rest of the puzzle. Almost as if it were a button to be pressed.
"Okay!" Hermione exclaimed brightly. "It's armed. Just press that button and we're ready to go!"
Harry stared at his friend with a more dubious expression than he'd ever given her since the day they first met.
"Um … no?"
"Harry!"
"No, Hermione. I'm not pressing a strange button on a strange box that you apparently mugged two Unspeakables to get! And which you then … armed! Not without you telling me what in Merlin's name is going on?!" He looked back down at the strange box. "What is this thing, anyway?"
"It's called a Cryptohedron," she answered.
"That tells me nothing," he spat. "That doesn't even sound like a real word!"
"Harry, do you trust me?" Immediately, the boy put up a hand to stop her.
"No, no, no! Don't play that card on me, Hermione. Not like this! I've been through too much in the last day for it!"
"Harry! I know what you've been through. That's why I asked you to come. All year long, you've known about my weirdness. Known about it and tolerated it. Well finally, we're at the end. The moment when I can answer all your questions about what I've been doing and why. I promised you that what I had to show you could change your life, and it really can! Just trust me one last time and press that button. And then, I can finally tell you everything!"
Harry stared at Hermione for what seemed like ages before his hand slowly made its way to the center of the Cryptohedron.
"You'd better," he said as he pressed the button.
Instantly, the seams of the Cryptohedron flashed brightly before fusing together so that the cube now appeared to be solid chrome. Then, it gently floated up into the air before it started to rotate, slowly at first but then faster. As it moved, Harry noticed that the object's shape was changing. Where it started as a perfect cube, gradually the corners began to distort and sink into the object to produce additional planed surfaces. First, it was a six-sided cube. Then, it had seven sides. Then, eight, twelve, twenty, more.
As this continued, Harry opened up his Legilimency senses to better understand what he was seeing … and then he reeled. Though he could barely understand the impressions he received, he suddenly understood was that this "Cryptohedron" wasn't changing its shape at all. Rather, its true shape was something that could not be fully perceived. Not by him, not by anyone in this world. Only when it moved did it allow other aspects of its true form to be observable. The sudden realization caused Harry a moment of vertigo, and he quickly shut off his Legilimency.
After about twenty seconds of rotation, the Cryptohedron had formed so many sides (or appeared to have done so, anyway) that it was virtually a sphere, though Harry knew this was just an illusion. In truth, the Cryptohedron was still a polyhedral shape, but with far too many sides to count while it was in motion. Finally, the object slowed to a stop, still in mid-air, and then reversed direction. Gradually, it now appeared to lose sides until, after twenty seconds or so, it was once more in the (apparent) shape of a cube. It then floated back down to settle into its original position.
Harry was about to speak when Hermione put up a hand to shush him. There was another flash of light from the cube, along with the sound of gears in motion. Where before, the Cryptohedron appeared to be a single solid cube, it now looked as though it were made of dozens and dozens of tiny cubes stacked together. Then, the smaller cubes began to move, starting with those on top which slid up and out from the center, and then those on the lower levels which did the same. As the cubes separated, the whole thing started to resemble a strange metallic flower that was swiftly coming into bloom. And from the center of the Cryptohedron, a brilliant white light shot up to hit the ceiling.
Despite himself, Harry leaned forward to see down into the Cryptohedron.
"Don't!" Hermione said sharply, and he jerked back, giving her an annoyed glare before looking back to the object. Then, he gasped.
Slowly ascending out of the center of the Cryptohedron as if levitated by the stream of light was something new and, in its own way, even more disturbing than the Cryptohedron itself. It was a small thing, no more than a few inches across, and it was mostly transparent as if made of glass. In fact, it looked like a long thin glass tube that somehow wrapped around and fed back into itself in impossible ways. And inside the tube was a small quantity of golden sand that constantly flowed up and down the impossible length of the tube before starting again at the top.
And yet, as small and unassuming as the glass object was, it suddenly filled Harry with a terrible sense of dread. There was no discordant humming. There was no sensation of something coming through the walls. But there was a deeply felt awareness that he was looking at something unnatural, something not meant for this world. In that respect, it felt exactly like what he'd experienced a year earlier in the memory of Luna Lovegood when he watched as Luna's mother invoked the Imago Dei.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
Harry licked his lips as he continued to stare at the tiny impossible glass object.
"Hermione? What am I looking at here?"
Then, he heard a deep sigh from his friend and pulled his eyes off the object toward her. Hermione suddenly looked more relaxed than he had seen her this whole year. Tension seemed to drain away instantly. She looked as though she'd spent months carrying an impossibly heavy burden that finally she could lay down. Or at the very least, share with someone else.
"That, my friend," she said almost triumphantly, "is a Time-Turner!"
Next: The Time-Turner
AN1: Check out the Sinister Man's web presence on the POS wiki, the POS TV Tropes page, and my Discord server (through which you can see advance previews of this story as it is begin written). Also, the Sinister Man would be profoundly grateful if you checked out my P*****n page and supported my original fiction. Patronage is not necessary to get the free POS previews via Discord.
AN2 (What the Sinister Man is reading):
"Percy Take the Wheel" by Kitty Smith. A fun little Percy-centric story in which Molly is killed and Arthur put into a coma during the summer before Second Year. And while Bill and Charlie are both out working to make money to keep the family afloat, it falls to a still-grieving Percy to act as the head of household for the remaining Weasleys.
Also, "Alexandra Quick and the World Away" by Inverarity has just come to its utterly amazing conclusion! Check it out.
AN3: Special thanks to my Discord editors:
Adam Sitrich, Epwydadlan, EssayOfThoughts (Aich), Flareix, HeidiWolf, Krisni, Kshitiz, LoudHeart, Magica, Mr. Gift, Mr. Yarrow Dread, Prince of Conspiracy, and sad boi enterprises. Thanks guys!
AN4: Vital Statistics: Reviews: 12,721 (top 13 among HP fanfics). Followers: 13,934 (top 11). Favorites: 12,123 (top 33). Communities: 212. Discord followers: Over 2000! Go Team POS!
AN5: I did the best I could to describe the Cryptohedron and the Time-Turner in action. The Time-Turner is a Klein Bottle. The Cryptohedron is a four-dimensional hypercube, and its changing shape is actually its three-dimensional shadow as it rotates.