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 48: Moving Forward
Gryffindor Tower
10:00 a.m.
"Hey, Jim? Can, uh, you please do something about your snake? He's after Trevor. Again! … Hey, Jim?!"
Neville stood a few feet away from his bed and watched anxiously as, for the third time that week, Jim Potter's pet snake Steve draped itself across the glass terrarium of Trevor the Toad. Inside the container, the toad sat very still and croaked nervously. Despite Neville's call, Jim did not respond from his nearby bed (from which the Boy-Who-Lived had not stirred all morning). As the worried toad-owner started to call out for help once more, Ron returned to the dorm room after a leisurely breakfast. He took in the scene (including the fact that Jim was still in bed) and sighed in mild exasperation.
"It's okay, Neville," he said. "I'll get him." Then, he walked past Neville to gingerly lift Steve up and transport him away from Trevor's habitat and back to his own.
"Thanks," Neville said with mild irritation. "But when Jim wakes up, tell him to talk to his snake, okay? You know, before I have to get a prefect involved?"
"Will do."
A few seconds later, an annoyed Neville followed Seamus and Dean out of the room. Ron looked around to make sure they were gone before lifting Steve back up and addressing it.
"Hey, Jim hasss already told you, but I'll sssay it too. Ssstay away from the toad! It'sss poisssonsss. Plusss it would get Jim into trouble if you hurt it, and Jim might have to sssend you away for good!"
"Duuude!" exclaimed the California kingsnake with an indignant hiss that nevertheless somehow sounded like an American surfer's accent to Ron's ears. "Like I would be ssstupid enough to lick that ssslimy thing. I can sssmell itsss toxinsss from here. Grosss. But itsss cassse sssits right in the sssunlight, and it feelsss ssso nice!"
Ron rolled his eyes and cast a Warming Charm on the base of Steve's terrarium before lowering the serpent back into it.
"Isss that better?"
"Muchasss graciasss, Big Red! But sssince you're here and the other two-legsss are all gone, you ssshould talk to Jimbo. He'sss got the bluesss real bad!"
"Yesss, I thought ssso."
"I'm right here, you know … Big Red," Jim muttered from underneath the blankets pulled up over his head.
"I know," Ron said. "I also know you were pretending to be asleep because you didn't want to talk to anyone. And that you skipped dinner last night and breakfast this morning for the same reason. But I'm not just anyone, so come up for air and tell me what's bothering you."
The Boy-Who-Lived threw back his covers and pulled open his curtains. "What's bothering me? Seriously? How about the fact that it's an ironclad law of the universe that everyone I put all my faith in eventually turns on me!"
Ron winced. "Well, in my defense, I kinda had a pretty good excuse last year…."
"Not you!"
Ron closed the lid on Steve's terrarium before turning back to his friend.
"I know you're upset about your godfather, Jim. And you deserve to be. He took advantage of your trust and the trust of your whole family. I reckon I'd feel the same if Percy or one of my other brothers turned against my family. But hiding in bed isn't going to make you feel any better or change what Pettigrew did."
Jim huffed loudly before pulling himself up to sit on the bed facing his best friend. "It's … not just Pettigrew … Harry's leaving the family."
Ron was confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that in exchange for a huge bribe from my father, Harry is going to quit House Potter and change his name. I'll become the Potter Heir … and the only Potter son. I'm about to lose the twin brother I only just got back. And I don't even know how I really feel about it because of this damned Imperius!"
He ran his fingers through his unruly hair in frustration.
"And then … there's my Mum," he added.
"What about her?" Ron asked.
Jim looked embarrassed for a moment. "While Uncle Pete was holding us hostage, he … he tried to make Mum choose between me and Harry. One would be safe, and the other would get turned into a werewolf!"
"Bloody hell!" Ron said, horrified.
The boy nodded. "Yeah. But … here's the thing. Harry managed to take down Uncle Pete before she could make her choice. Only … I don't know which of us she'd have picked!"
Ron sat down on the bed next to Jim. "Jim, your Mum loves you. You know that. She's always picked you in the past."
Jim snorted. "Yeah, but her reasons for picking me haven't always been straightforward. She sent Harry off to be raised by the Dursleys because she was afraid for him to be around me. Like just being close to me might get him killed. She made me hide being a Parselmouth for fear of how the public would react, not to mention Dad. And all last year and this year, she made a point of having those lunches with Harry to try and get to know him better. She's never done anything like that with me. Sometimes, I wonder if she really knows anything about the real me at all. I know it's ridiculous to feel jealous of Harry given how we were both brought up. But, I also know that deep down, Mum feels guilty over what he went through at the Dursleys. And … I really don't know who she'd choose if it came down to the two of us."
"Come on, Jim. There's no way you can seriously think your mum would pick Harry over you even if she did have to make that choice!"
"Why not?" Jim said suddenly angry. "James sure was happy to choose Harry over me after I got outed as a Parselmouth last year!"
"I thought you got over that," Ron asked in surprise, both over the sentiment and over Jim saying his father's name with such disdain.
Jim looked down at the floor. "We didn't get over it so much as … silently agree to never speak of it. He sure hasn't ever apologized for how he treated me last year." His expression darkened. "But I guess he's made his choice now. By the end of tomorrow, I'll be an only child. And Harry will probably never have anything to do with me again."
Then, he laughed bitterly. "And I can't decide if I feel sad about losing my brother or happy because I'm cursed to mistrust him!"
"Jim …."
"Uncle Pete betrayed me nearly every day of my life. My father still freaks out every time he gets a reminder I can talk to snakes. Harry's leaving. And for all I know, my mother might want to go with him."
He looked away, suddenly overcome with emotion. "I … I j-just feel like I keep losing everyone!" he said with a sob.
"Hey, remember!" Ron suddenly said. "You've always got Steve!"
"Ki-ki-ki!" the snake laughed in response.
Jim whirled around at his friend's seemingly blithe response. Then, he saw Ron's smirk and the twinkle in his eyes, and he laughed despite his uncertainties.
"You prat!" he said while wiping a tear away.
Ron put his arm around Jim's shoulders and squeezed. "And me, of course. Me and Steve. You're stuck with us both, so there's that at least."
Jim laughed. "Yeah, I guess there's always that."
Later in Hogsmeade
After completing their business with the Unspeakables, Harry and Hermione made their way out of the castle for the unscheduled Hogsmeade weekend. They quickly met up with several friends from SPAM including Theo No-Name, who was bemused to find himself flanked by Anthony Goldstein, Sue Li, Susan Bones, Fred Weasley, and even Bobby Lattimer and Penelope Clearwater (the Head Boy and Girl). Despite his insistence to Hermione all those months before that he didn't need a "bodyguard" to visit Hogsmeade, it seemed he'd attracted a formidable security detail anyway. And indeed, whenever any of their Pureblooded schoolmates seemed to glare at the Outcast, they were met by equally intimidating glares from the SPAM members that warded them off. Harry and Hermione joined the group as it made its way around the town.
Today's Hogsmeade Visit was an especially enjoyable one. In celebration of the end of the Azkaban Crisis and Minister Fudge's big speech, the town had pulled out all the stops. Balloons and pro-Ministry banners were everywhere, and live musicians on enchanted instruments played merrily on a stage that had been assembled at the end of the street. Indeed, signs announcing the musical line-up were posted everywhere, and all the students were excited that the Weird Sisters would be giving a free concert that afternoon at four o'clock.
High overhead, the Demonstration Flyer teams for all the major broom companies engaged in amazing aerial acrobatics while shooting off colorful fireworks from their wands. And speaking of broom companies, there was a new addition to the front window of Quality Quidditch Supplies: a life-sized picture of Harry Potter holding a Chaser's Edition Firebolt! Next to it was a magical painting that reproduced Harry's daring rescue of Amy Wilkes on the back of one of the company's products and showed how easily even a boy could evade attacking werewolves while flying in the wrong gear! Harry blushed at the ribbing he took from his friends over the display, although his embarrassment was assuaged by the thought of how much he got paid by Firebolt for the privilege of using his image.
Soon, the group made their way to the Three Broomsticks, where Justin Finch-Fletchley had rented an entire room for the SPAM membership. He also paid for a sumptuous buffet for the whole club complete with a delicious-looking cake decorated to say "Go Team SPAM!" The cake also featured animated decorations made of enchanted icing that depicted a cartoonish lion, badger, eagle, and snake cavorting together happily around what appeared to be an actual can of the infamous Muggle meat product. Justin assured everyone that this cake was not cursed in any way, and he'd ordered it for the occasion from some new catering firm called Molly's Magical Morsels. At that announcement, Harry glanced over towards Fred and Ron, both of whom smirked proudly at this recognition of their mother's success.
While everyone enjoyed the splendid meal and gratefully thanked Justin for his generosity, the Muggleborn himself seemed somewhat wistful. Harry noticed and asked him if everything was okay. Justin thanked him for his concern, but rather than answering him directly, the boy stood and tapped his silverware against a glass to get the group's attention.
"Everyone," he began, "I want to thank you all for coming. This is just my way of saying what you've all meant to me this year. When I came to Hogwarts as an ignorant Muggleborn who barely knew which end of a wand to hold, I wondered if I'd ever truly fit in. Not just in Hufflepuff or even at Hogwarts, but as a wizard in general. The culture was just … so different than what I'd been used to. It was daunting, especially because, in the Muggle world, my family … well, to be honest, my family is wealthy. But more than that, it's very influential, but only in ways that turned out to mean nothing at all in this world.
"Had I not been a wizard, I would have gone to Eton and then to Oxbridge instead of Hogwarts. Those names probably mean nothing to those of you raised in the magical world, but if I'd gone that route, I might well have become the sort of person who looks down on less fortunate Muggles the same way so many Purebloods look down on us. At Hogwarts, I learned magic. But for the first time in my life, I also learned what it was like to be an outsider, to be someone looked down upon as lesser, to be part of a disliked if not despised minority. And whatever happens for the rest of my life, I will always be … grateful for that experience. Grateful because facing the bigotry of others against me also meant accepting the support of all you wonderful people. Grateful for being made to realize that friends and allies can come from anywhere if you're willing to accept them. Grateful…."
The boy's voice broke, and he coughed to clear his throat. "Grateful for the chance to grow through adversity and become a better person than Eton and Oxbridge would have made me. I hope – desperately hope – that I can only continue to grow as a person. And that …"
He paused, suddenly overcome. "And that I don't change in a way that will make any of you think less of me."
At that remark, a few of the SPAM members looked at one another in confusion. Harry leaned forward in his seat as Justin continued.
"Two weeks ago, I turned fourteen, the earliest age at which one can legally claim a seat on the Wizengamot. At tomorrow's emergency session, I will officially take my Vow of Unity and formally become Lord Conditional of the Noble House of Prince. Please keep that to yourselves until after tomorrow, as it's probably going to be a bit of a surprise to the Wizengamot. But it's something I've been working towards for a while, and it's an incredible opportunity for me and my family. Unfortunately, it's also something I've become rather afraid of. You see, when I take those vows … I will also come under the effects of the Ultimate Sanction."
Justin looked straight at the Outcast. "Theo, I honestly don't know how I'll look at you when I see you again after the Easter Break. How I'll think about you. But … if Lord Prince ever says or does anything to you that would shame the person I am today, then I want you to know how sorry I am. And that goes for every one of you."
With that, Justin sat down somewhat awkwardly. The room was silent for a moment, though Susan Bones did rise, come up behind Justin, and give him a hug. A few other girls sniffled a bit, and a pall fell over the group. Then, Theo himself stood, cleared his throat, took a deep breath … and began to sing.
"SPAM, spam, spam, Spam! SPAM, spam, spam, Spam!"
Across the room, Justin suddenly laughed as the tension was broken. Whatever the future held for him, at this moment, he had these friends. And so, he loudly joined in.
"Lovely Spaaaaam! Wonderful Spaaam! Lovely Spaaaaam! Wonderful Spaaam!"
Within seconds, everyone in the club was singing along. Even Hermione.
"SPAM, spam, spam, Spam! SPAM, spam, spam, Spam!"
"Lovely Spaaaaam! Wonderful Spaaam! Lovely Spaaaaam! Wonderful Spaaam!"
Later …
As Cornelius Fudge climbed the stage and strode to the podium, a wave of spontaneous applause punctuated by cheers and whistles arose from the audience. Despite his best efforts at humility, Fudge couldn't help but puff up at the praise. The public response to his handling of what the Prophet had been calling "The Death Eater Menace" since the previous August had been extraordinarily positive, and his favorability rating was the best it had ever been. Literally ever, since he'd only narrowly won a controversial election to take the Minister's Office, and his approval had been lukewarm at best since his term began. But even the cheers at his victory party had not been as loud as the noise the people of Hogsmeade were making for him now.
With characteristic polish, Fudge grinned easily and put his hands up to placate the crowd before casting a Sonorus on himself so that he could be heard. Down below the podium, wizards employed by the Wizarding Wireless were set up to record his words and broadcast them to the whole nation.
"Fellow wizards and witches, my friends all of you! Thank you so much for that wonderful welcome on this most special day. My remarks will be brief, as I am to be followed by those talented young musicians, The Weird Sisters. And I'm sure all those young people out there in the crowd would rather hear them than me!"
A wave of wry laughter spread through the crowd. If any of the young people he'd mentioned had any urge to voice their agreement with the Minister's sentiment, they were wise enough not to give in to it, as most of the Hogwarts faculty was interspersed with the crowd, along with numerous Aurors and hit wizards.
"As you all are aware by now, the Azkaban Crisis is resolved, and the Death Eater Menace is over. Tomorrow, at a special session of the Wizengamot, I will formally relinquish my authority as Praetor Maximus and return to being just a plain old ordinary Minister for Magic. While I was honored by the faith the Wizengamot placed in me by appointing me to that role, I believe that once such a major crisis is over, it is the duty of any Minister worthy of the title to relinquish his emergency powers as quickly as possible. We are, after all, a democracy, not a tyranny such as what those very same Death Eaters desired for our nation."
The crowd cheered again for Fudge's humility and commitment to "democracy." Of course, many of those in the crowd (Harry Potter, to name but one) knew all too well just how perfunctory Britain's commitment to democracy was. Nearly all political power in Wizarding Britain was held either by the Wizengamot or the Ministry. The former was, for the most part, an inherited aristocracy. The latter, except for the elected Minister and the department heads who he appointed and who served at his pleasure, was mainly an unelected civil service riven with nepotism and corruption. The job of the Minister for Magic was to oversee the Ministry as much as could be done with such a massive bureaucracy and to liaise with the Wizengamot where their duties overlapped.
Every adult wizard and witch in Britain could cast a vote on Election Day (held every seven years) for any of the officially recognized candidates for Minister for Magic merely by holding their wands aloft and speaking their preferred candidate's name at any point between sunrise and sunset. Whichever candidate got the most votes would serve a seven-year term absent death, incapacity, or a no-confidence vote by two-thirds of the Wizengamot. In any of those cases, the Wizengamot would then replace the fallen Minister with an interim Acting Minister for the remainder of the removed politician's term. That was Wizarding Britain's sole concession to the Muggle concept of "democracy."
"Of the five prisoners removed from Azkaban," Fudge continued, "I can report to you that Bellatrix Lestrange is dead …!"
Another round of lusty cheering from the audience briefly drowned out Fudge's words, and he patiently waited to continue.
"Rabastan Lestrange, Rodulphus Lestrange, and Augustus Rookwood are in DMLE custody. Their final … disposition will be decided tomorrow by the Wizengamot. But I can confirm that Fenrir Greyback and his vile packmates are already in Azkaban, where they will remain for the rest of their wretched lives."
More cheers.
"As for the final escaped prisoner, many of you have heard rumors about the status of Sirius Black, who was convicted in 1981 of serving You-Know-Who and of betraying the family of the Boy-Who-Lived. I can officially announce at this time that those rumors are true! The Ministry's investigation has revealed that Sirius Black, the presumptive Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, was innocent of all the charges that led to his incarceration. His conviction was the result of an elaborate fraud perpetrated against both Sirius Black and the people of Wizarding Britain by the Death Eaters who were truly responsible for those crimes, all of whom are dead or in DMLE custody."
Out among the crowd, Harry crooked an eyebrow at that last comment. One of those Death Eaters was Narcissa Black, who was not in DMLE custody as far as he knew. He made a mental note to check with Lucius Malfoy to find out his ex-wife's current status. He also noted with amusement the dour expression on the face of James Potter, who stood behind Fudge on the stage along with his Senior Staff.
"I can further announce that within the last hour, I have been contacted by Lord Black through a solicitor he has engaged. Black is currently in convalescence recovering from the aftereffects of his incarceration. If his health permits, I hope that he will be able to attend tomorrow's Wizengamot session and perhaps even take his Oath of Unity before fully assuming his position.
"But while Lord Black's wrongful incarceration was a horrific miscarriage of justice, I want to reassure everyone that I will not attempt to shove the blame for those events onto my predecessor, the late Millicent Bagnold. Minister Bagnold served ably and well during the War against You-Know-Who. Even if deeply regrettable mistakes were made during the haze of the war's conclusion, let us not judge too harshly a fine woman who is no longer here to speak for herself."
Fudge's moving comments led to another wave of applause from those in the audience moved by the man's generosity. Others, like Harry, applauded politely while noting just how skillfully Fudge had, in fact, shoved all the blame for Sirius's incarceration on a predecessor who was indeed no longer around to speak for herself.
"Next," Fudge continued. "I would like to give special notice to the person most responsible for bringing this crisis to a close. An Auror from whom I expect great things in the future. But also, an Auror who I have known personally for years and consider a dear friend. Ladies and gentlemen, SENIOR AUROR PIUS THICKNESSE!"
This time, Fudge himself led the applause for Thicknesse who'd been standing on the stage the whole time next to James Potter and the other Senior Aurors. Somewhat bashfully, Thickness took two steps forward and then waved nervously to the audience, who treated the newly famous Auror like a rock star. Behind him, the other Aurors clapped with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Harry smirked at James's expression. It was amazing that he was descended from a man who seemed incapable of a poker face if the visible disdain he showed for Thicknesse meant anything.
Fudge returned to the podium.
"And finally, while I do not wish to cast any sort of pall over the joy of today's celebration, I would ask that we all recognize the valiant sacrifice of those who could not be here today. I speak, of course, of Geoffrey Fawcett, an Auror trainee who died heroically fighting against Death Eaters here in Hogsmeade last Halloween, as well as the five hit wizards who have been committed to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungos due to the curse damage they suffered in an attempt to apprehend an ally of the Death Eaters. Their names are Lester Abbot, Craig Bowker, Dermot McDougal, Tallulah Montcrief, and Melusine Pepper. Please keep them and their families in your thoughts."
With that, Fudge took off his distinctive green bowler and placed it over his heart before bowing his head.
"A moment of silence for these brave wizards and witches."
With that, every male present who was wearing a hat immediately doffed it. The crowd went completely silent save for audible sobbing coming from somewhere behind Harry. He took a quick glance behind him and noticed it was Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff he knew casually but had hardly spoken to since his Second Year (and not at all since the Pureblood girl had joined the CPS). Then, he winced internally as he remembered that Lester Abbot had been one of the hit wizards who Fudge had spoken of. While he did not regret saving several lives during his time jaunt, he couldn't help but feel a tiny measure of guilt for the five injured hit wizards, none of whom (as far as he knew) had suffered any injuries in the prior timeline. Luckily, with Pettigrew and his werewolf allies in jail, no one else would suffer from his decision to time-travel.
After a suitable length of time, Fudge raised his head. "Thank you all, not just for coming today but for the support you've shown to me and to our Ministry. And now, without further ado, I turn the stage over to The Weird Sisters!"
The crowd roared a final time as Fudge waved proudly and then exited the stage. From the other end, the Weird Sisters entered the stage to start setting up for their impromptu concert. Despite the name, all eight members of Wizarding Britain's premier rock band were male, and their attire consisted of lots of artfully torn leather with the occasional raven-feather accent. Harry knew little about popular music either among wizards or Muggles, though he knew Sue Li openly despised the popular band, which she haughtily described as "commercialized punk rock meant for consumption by upper-class wizard posers and their tasteless spawn." Suddenly, he was distracted from musical criticism when someone called his name.
"Heir Potter!"
The boy looked around to see who was calling Heir Potter that on the last day it would be his surname and title. To his surprise, it was the Minister strolling up to him.
"Oh, hello, Minister Fudge," the boy said amiably. "I enjoyed your speech."
"Thank you very much for the compliment, m'boy." With that, Fudge discreetly pulled out his wand and cast a rather sophisticated privacy spell around them. "Heir Potter, er, Harry … I wanted to let you know how impressed I was with the way you and the Flint boy captured Peter Pettigrew yesterday. Jolly good show, that!"
"Thank you, Minister," Harry said cautiously. "I, um, noticed that you didn't mention Pettigrew's name during your speech."
The politician looked somewhat abashed. "Yes, I decided that it would be best to downplay that aspect of things until the Aurors finish their interrogation of Pettigrew so that he can be formally tried. Your heroism certainly deserves recognition, but I thought it would be better for your family's reputation if I didn't broadcast …."
"The fact that my father had a Death Eater serving as his Seneschal all these years?"
Fudge paused to clear his throat. "Yes … quite. I know the whole thing will come out soon, but I thought it unwise to release the information as the Azkaban Crisis is getting wrapped up. Best to handle that aspect of things more discreetly. I'm sure you understand."
"Oh, of course, sir. My family is very grateful for your discretion. Although …." Harry trailed off uncertainly.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Well, it's just unfortunate that Marcus Flint, who risked his life to help save my family, can't get the recognition he deserves. Based on the way he acted yesterday, I bet he'd make an awesome Auror if only he can get into the Academy."
Fudge smiled and looked around. "Is young Flint here?"
"No, I'm afraid. He'd planned to go away for the Easter Break with his girlfriend. Our little Potter Family Adventure delayed him, but he left this morning."
"Oh well, no matter," the Minister continued. "Have the boy make an appointment with my office once he gets back. I'll treat him to lunch and then see that he gets an introduction to the head of the Auror Application Review Board."
Harry grinned. "Thank you, sir! I'll let him know!"
Fudge returned the smile and then clapped the boy reassuringly on the shoulder even as he shooed away an insect that had been buzzing around his head with the other hand. Then, the Minister made his goodbyes and wandered off to glad-hand some more of the townsfolk.
"Okay, Marcus," Harry thought to himself. "If that doesn't get you into the Auror Academy, I don't know what will."
The Department of Mysteries
The Oversight Committee
4:00 p.m.
"And so, that completes my preliminary report. Any questions?"
A stunned silence fell over the weekly Friday afternoon meeting of the Department of Mysteries Oversight Committee.
"Any questions?!" barked one particularly livid Unspeakable (who was probably but not necessarily a witch). "Seriously?! You drop a bomb like that on us and ask if we have any bloody questions!"
"Calm down, Love," said Control. "Nothing is improved by shouting."
The exact number of wizards and witches in the conference room was uncertain, for it was the nature of life as an Unspeakable that even the individual members of the Oversight Committee could not know definitively who else sat on Oversight alongside them nor even how many people were at the meeting. For some of the less perceptive members, even the gender of their peers was a mystery.
It was possible to know that the Chief Director of the DOM, aka Control, chaired these interdepartmental meetings and that Number Seven, aka Saul Croaker, aka the "Voice of the Unspeakables," was also present. It was also possible to know that the Directors of the ten known divisions were present, though they could be identified only by their areas of interest: Death, Love, Time, Space, Mind, Prophecy, Records, Creatures, Muggles, and Ethics. Of those (perhaps ironically so given her field of expertise), Love was particularly known for her ill temper. Or possibly his ill temper.
However, it was not possible to know who else was in attendance or what divisions, if any, they represented. Most of those present who thought about the matter, however, felt quite certain that there were more than twelve people participating in the meeting. How many more? And who were they? Only Control knew for sure, and he (or she?) wasn't telling.
"That said," continued Control, "your report is astonishing, Time. Are you seriously telling us that it is possible for the Time-Turner to be reprogrammed to accept users other than the Designated User selected by the Cryptohedron?"
"It would seem so, although such a reprogramming can only be performed by the Designated User and only at the moment the Cryptohedron opens up to receive the Time-Turner at the conclusion of its first journey. In this case, Miss Granger herself has no personal memories of how it was achieved, as her actions to do so were erased from history once Harry Potter engaged the device for its second journey."
"Was this confirmed through Legilimency?" inquired Love.
"No," answered Voice. "Only a light surface scan was feasible at the time. And both Granger and Potter possess strong Occlumency shields that are at least good enough to repel casual scans."
"What?" Love exclaimed. "They're children!"
"Granger is 14, and Potter will turn 14 in a few months," said Time. "In any case, there is anecdotal evidence from prior activations that the Designated User will always be an Occlumens or the equivalent, although it is usually impossible to know whether a particular User already had that skill before the journey or acquired it over the course of the journey. We only meet them at the end, after all. Regardless, there has never been a recorded incident of an Unspeakable successfully reading the mind of a Designated User at the conclusion of their journey."
"In the case of these two," Records spoke up while consulting a file in front of him (or her), "the Granger girl spent last summer at the Zabini compound in Florence, and there are reports that she studied under Giuseppe Lucardi of the Order of St Simon Magus during her stay. Potter, of course, has been a protégé of Severus Snape since he was a First Year, and he began formal instruction under Mr. X the following summer. It would not surprise me that they were both competent Occlumens even in the prior timeline despite their youth."
Croaker spoke up then. "I would add, based on my own observations, that Harry Potter likely has some degree of Legilimency as well."
"This is all quite fascinating," Ethics interrupted. "Dangerously so, in my opinion. I am uncomfortable with any inquiry by us or our successors into the possibility of manipulating the Cryptohedron's choice of Designated User. Likewise, our protocols regarding official inquiry into Designated Users in an open forum is clear. Accordingly, I hereby elect to take this entire matter under the advisement of the Ethics Committee."
"ETHICS!" sputtered Time angrily.
"Furthermore," continued Ethics with a glare towards Time, the youngest and most impetuous of the Directors. "Should the Ethics Committee agree with my concerns, I will direct that all information about Harry Potter's use of the Time-Turner be classified as U7."
"Noted," said Control even as Time looked as though someone were proposing to euthanize his new puppy. "And for what it's worth, Ethics, I share your concerns."
U7 was the highest possible level of classification within the Department of Mysteries. Among other side effects, a U7 classification would require most of the Directors to Obliviate themselves of all information regarding Harry Potter's unauthorized trip through time. Only the DOM's longstanding identification of Time-Turner Users as "Agents of Fate" and the deference that resulted from such classification prevented the Unspeakables from trying to Obliviate both Potter and Granger of their own personal memories of using the Time-Turner.
"Before we consider locking away all our knowledge of this incident," Voice said with some resignation, "there is one other Potter-related matter to discuss."
With that, Saul Croaker related the information that Harry Potter had somehow acquired an Eye-Spy, that he had used it to record a statement by Peter Pettigrew implicating the Unspeakables in the expatriation of Gustav Kleinwuchs, and that in exchange for burying it, he wanted to commercialize the Eye-Spy for his own financial benefit.
"Of all the confounded impudence!" exclaimed Creatures, but Control quickly interrupted.
"Ethics, get together with Voice on this. Then, give me a write-up on how we can modify an Eye-Spy for commercial sale while still addressing the Ethics Committee's concerns about releasing them to the public."
"You're actually giving in to his blackmail?" asked Love, who seemed strangely amused by the idea.
Control nodded. "I am indeed, Love. Because Harry Potter is the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived; the son of both the Chief Auror and a witch we tried unsuccessfully to recruit when she was a student; a future Lord of the Wizengamot; a 13-year-old Occlumens; probably a 13-year-old Legilimens, and someone with the skill and resourcefulness to overcome Fenrir Greyback in an aerial duel. He was on the cusp of becoming a Person of Interest before he traveled through time. And now that he's an Agent of Fate as well? Yes, Love, I am happy to give in to Potter's blackmail if it gives us an inside track with him."
Control turned to Croaker. "Let the boy stew for a week or so, and then send him a proposal approved by Ethics. Start off with a 50-50 profit sharing arrangement and then let him work you down to 20% in exchange for stringent secrecy oaths for himself and Granger regarding both Kleinwuchs, Belby, the Wolfsbane Potion, and any functions of Eye-Spies that Ethics still wants classified. While you're at it, use the negotiations as a pretext to get a spy close to him. And long term, possibly a handler."
Croaker nodded as Control turned back to Time. "Anything else about this morning's incident that requires priority review?" The young Unspeakable shook his head in the negative. "Good. Then get us a full report by Monday, and we'll review it more thoroughly at next Friday's meeting."
"Sure thing," Time grumbled under his breath. "I'm already missing the Weird Sisters. What's the rest of my weekend good for?"
"Moving on," said Control. "The next item on the agenda is the matter of the recovered Azkaban escapees and, in particular, our old friend, Augustus Rookwood. Mind?"
The Director of the Mind Division had just downed a third headache remedy for the day when called upon. The Unspeakable swallowed it quickly and began the report.
"Pursuant to the action plan I submitted this morning, I had all three of the prisoners brought to a secure holding area here in the Department, gave them the antidote to Draught of Living Death, and subjected each of them in turn to a level 7 Legilimency deep-scan, at the conclusion of which, they were returned to their DMLE cells without incident. I then submitted to level 5 scans by two different senior members of the Division of Mind to confirm that I had not been in any way compromised in my efforts, as required by standard divisional procedures. The results of my psychic interrogations are as follows:
"First, the Tabula Rasa was completely effective on the Lestrange Brothers. Their Occlumency shields before being cursed were evidently weak and are now non-existent. Beyond being able to speak English and to perform all basic life functions – eat, use the toilet, dress themselves – they have no memories or knowledge of their prior lives. Nor can they acquire any new memories in the future unless additional magic is performed on them remove the curse. If the Department recommends it, we can gain access to the Tabula Rasa Counterspell from our counterparts in Australia, but all their memories of their former lives are gone forever."
Mind hesitated.
"Rookwood's situation … is more complicated."
"Pfft!" scoffed Muggles. "What else is new?"
"Not to a concerning degree, Muggles," Mind continued. "Just … an exhausting one. Erring on the side of caution, I spent six long and arduous hours studying that man's mind with the utmost caution so that I could be certain of my findings without any undue risk of psychic countermeasures. All my scans indicate that Rookwood did suffer Death of Personality just like the Lestranges. But his captors, either as part of an additional security measure or just plain cruelty, also subjected him to psychological torture. Specifically, he was forced to listen to a particularly annoying Muggle song on an endless repeat."
"You count that as torture?" complained Space. "Against him?"
"I do indeed," answered Mind. "Because by my conservative estimate, he listened to the same wretched song, 24/7, in excess of 350,000 times since last August. I only had to experience it for a few hours, and that was enough. Furthermore, we have no way of knowing how many of those repetitions came before or after the Tabula Rasa was used to shatter his defenses. But coming on the heels of fourteen years of Dementor exposure which no doubt left him with compromised Occlumency, his internal psychic architecture has collapsed completely into devastated shambles."
"What was the song?" Muggles asked out of curiosity.
"Tiptoe Through the Tulips," said Mind whose upper lip curled in disgust.
"Bloody hell," Muggles said with a belly laugh. "That would drive anyone mad, I reckon. And it could affect him even under Draught of Living Death?"
"Oh yes," Mind replied. "Rookwood's Legilimency was certainly strong enough to maintain subliminal awareness even in that state. He may not have been awake enough to be conscious of the song, but he was aware of it. For eight months."
"Is it possible he used a shell persona to shield himself from both the Dementors and the Tabula Rasa?" inquired Voice.
Mind laughed. "Rookwood didn't have a shell persona. He had seven! And all of them have disintegrated completely. There's nothing of Rookwood left. Just a fragmentary dissociated awareness that can do nothing but endure the same awful song repeated on an infinite loop. Even when conscious after waking from Living Death, he could only mindlessly and continually sing it aloud until finally I stunned him at the end of the assessment."
"Yes, yes. But isn't it possible that he might have an eighth persona?" Voice persisted.
"Oh, thank you, Voice," Mind said sarcastically. "I'd have never considered such a possibility if you hadn't mentioned it. Look, to hide himself from a level 7 scan, Rookwood wouldn't need another persona. He'd have needed at least four or five spare personae that were each 100% committed to constantly thinking about absolutely nothing to block anyone from detecting what was underneath. And since the universal consensus is that it's arithmantically impossible to ever have more than seven active mind streams, there's no way even Rookwood could create almost twice as many just so he could dedicate a few extras to never thinking."
"None of this is relevant," said Control to close off discussion. "We obviously can gain no useful information from Rookwood. Tomorrow, the Wizengamot will decide his fate. The options include having him Kissed by a Dementor, returning him to Azkaban until he rots, or putting him in the St Mungo's long-term damage ward. And if they choose the third option, well, accidents happen, don't they?"
Control turned to make eye contact with Ethics.
"Unless the Ethics Committee has any objections?"
The other Unspeakable snorted. "I can assure you, Control, that the Ethics Committee will have no objection to anything this Department chooses to do about Augustus Rookwood."
Control nodded. "Anything else to add, Mind?"
"Not regarding Rookwood directly. However, I am informed that Peter Pettigrew has been resisting Veritaserum via Occlumency, and we also now know that he was a Death Eater who had a personal relationship of some kind with Rookwood. I'd like to take a stroll around inside his brain. Perhaps he has some useful intel about his mentor that we could never get from Rookwood himself. We can also get his perspective on Harry Potter, and add it to our files."
"A good idea. Voice, contact the DMLE and arrange it."
"But not until late tomorrow afternoon, please," Mind added.
"Why not tonight?" Time asked.
"Because, Time, I have spent six hours today exploring the wreckage of Rookwood's mindscape, and I'm bloody exhausted. And also, because the Wizengamot hearing is tomorrow. Some of us don't have the luxury of full time work here in the DOM, you know. Unfortunately, we have to spend half our days actually running the country."
Most of the assembled Unspeakables laughed at that, but Time simply stared at Mind in astonishment.
"Are … are you secretly Minister Fudge?!" he asked incredulously.
The rest of the group turned to stare at Time while trying to decide if he was joking or not.
"Merlin's balls, Time," Croaker finally spat out. "Seriously! How the HELL did you get a job in the Department of Mysteries?!"
The Prince's Lair
7:00 p.m.
In response to a message from Harry, Blaise Zabini made his way discreetly to the entrance to the Prince's Lair, gave the password, and then stepped inside. And then, he froze in shock. It had been years since Harry first brought Zabini into this legendary room and introduced him to the Hydra Throne. But now, for the first time, Blaise witnessed Harry Potter actually sitting on it.
The other Slytherin – no, the Prince of Slytherin – grinned at Blaise as he stood paralyzed. Theo sat at Harry's right hand and seemed just as amused by Blaise's shock.
"Welcome to the Prince's Lair!" Harry exclaimed cheerfully. "And no, this is not an early April Fool's joke."
He paused to give a mock-glare to Theo. "That came this morning," he added as some sort of inside joke that only the grinning Outcast seemed to get.
"Anyway," Harry continued, "come have a seat. We have a lot to talk about!"
"I've no doubt," Blaise said cautiously even as he tried desperately to reinforce his Occlumency protections. He was exceptionally good at keeping out mind-readers and usually pretty good at maintaining a mask. But for once, the boy was utterly flummoxed at finding himself in a situation where he honestly didn't know how he was supposed to act. Casually, he made his way across the room and took the seat to the left of the Throne.
"So … care to share with me how this unexpected promotion came about?" Blaise asked. "A bit out of the blue, isn't it?"
"What can I say?" Harry answered easily. "I've been very busy for the last two days or so. But as for how it came about, I guess you could say it started with a Prophecy."
Blaise nodded carefully, his face a mask of interest-but-not-too-much-interest. Internally, alarm bells were ringing.
"What sort of Prophecy? Like the one involving your brother?"
"Yes, actually. It was even uttered by a Trelawney, an ancestor of the one we have teaching here. I've already told Theo, which is a good thing because after I told him, I was required to swear a very tight oath, so I can't tell you what the Prophecy says directly. Luckily, Theo can fill you in for me."
"Good thinking on your part," Blaise said before turning towards Theo expectantly. Internally, he was relieved to be able to avoid eye contact with Harry. Unfortunately, Harry had more to say.
"Actually," the Prince said with a laugh, "I just remembered something. Now that I think about it, I did tell you the first few lines on Wednesday morning."
"… oh?"
"Yeah, remember when I dragged you into my room while acting like a complete nutter for a few minutes? I said something about 'This is how our world will end. In a cold yet all-consuming flame.' That's how the Prophecy starts."
"Uh-huh," Blaise said weakly. Despite all his years of Occlumency training, he suddenly found himself uncertain whether he could really deceive someone like Harry who was apparently a Legilimency prodigy. He was also suddenly and acutely aware of the bead of sweat that had appeared on his left temple.
"So that's what that was all about," he continued as casually as he could.
"Yeah," Harry said. Then, the boy blinked a few times, and to his chagrin, Blaise could practically see the gears shifting in his friend's head.
"Now that I think about it," Harry continued, "I barely saw you after that over the last two days. You never once even asked me what that whole exchange was about."
Blaise shrugged. "Like you said, it was a busy two days. I'll be leaving for France on Saturday. I guess my mind's focused on that."
He turned back to Theo. "So, this Prophecy …?"
Oblivious to the mounting tension in the room, Theo No-Name opened his mouth to recite the Prophecy that Harry had taught him, but the Prince of Slytherin held up a hand to stop him. Then, Harry looked Blaise in the eye and truly studied him. He was no longer smiling.
"Harry?" Theo asked hesitantly after a few seconds.
"Sorry, I was just thinking of something else," he said very calmly. "You see, the oath I swore to safeguard the Prophecy and that I'm also blatantly working around so I can share it with my friends is a very powerful oath. It doesn't just punish me for revealing the Prophecy, it physically prevents me from doing so. Whenever I even think about the Prophecy, I can feel the oath's effects on my magic, waiting to bind me from saying too much out loud. I'm told it will even stop me from revealing it in the presence of a hidden eavesdropper. The only time I don't feel the oath binding me at all is when there is no one else present who doesn't already know it!"
Harry leaned forward and placed his folded hands on the table while fixing Blaise with a fierce gaze.
"So, Blaise Zabini. Can you explain to me why I don't feel the oath affecting me now, even though you're here and you shouldn't know anything about the Prophecy it protects beyond the two lines I've already told you?"
At that, Theo looked sharply towards Zabini, and his whole body tensed slightly as though he suddenly suspected it might be necessary to attack the other boy in defense of his Prince. Even more alarmingly, all nine of the Hydra's heads swiveled around in unison to gaze at him as well.
Blaise licked his lips. "No, Harry. I cannot explain it."
"Okay," Harry said, his voice now noticeably colder. "Here's another question I've been meaning to ask you for a while but never found the right time. What do you know about any connection between me and the Deathly Hallows?"
Blaise's eyes widened. He didn't respond at first but simply returned Harry's gaze with his own.
"No," he said.
"No?" Harry repeated. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, no. As in 'no, I will not answer your questions.' At least, not today." Then, he slowly and cautiously rose from his chair as if to reassure Harry and Theo (and the snakes) that he was not a threat.
"My mother explained to me once that true conversation can only take place between equals. Between two people operating on a basis of mutual trust with neither having a reason to lie and neither having a reason to distrust the other. I will not answer your questions because for some of them, I can't answer your questions. And for others, I could answer but not in a way you would accept as the truth."
With that, the boy casually headed towards the exit, speaking languidly as he went.
"You are still planning to attend the European Junior Dueling Tournament in Paris this summer, yes?"
"Yes," Harry answered, confused at the change of topic.
"Okay then. I'm going to be inviting a group of our male friends to visit for a few days before the Tournament. Sort of a guys' sleepover. You will be attending."
He looked back towards Theo. "You will also be invited, Theo, if we can work out all the Ultimate Sanction bullshit that might cause any unpleasantness."
"Thanks, I guess," said Theo with a perplexed expression.
"It didn't sound much like you were inviting me, Blaise," Harry said. "It sounded more like an order."
"Let's compromise and call it an invitation you would do well to accept," Blaise replied. "It'll be a great time for us all. I'll give you a tour of Marseilles. I'll introduce you to my favorite Muggle TV shows and movies. I'll even teach you how to surf."
He paused in front of the door and turned back to face Harry directly. "And sometime during your stay, my mother will read your destiny in the cards a second time. And if she likes what she sees, she will answer all of your questions."
Blaise smiled knowingly. "And believe me, Harry Potter. You have more questions that you need answers for than you could possibly realize!"
With that, Blaise Zabini turned and left the Prince's Lair, leaving two troubled and confused friends behind.
Severus Snape's Quarters
8:00 p.m.
After a long day, Severus Snape sat alone in his living quarters sipping a brandy. Although it was still early, he was quite ready for bed. He had an early morning ahead of him, and he'd stayed up far too late the night before with Lily only to spend hours this morning talking with Remus Lupin before spending the afternoon in Hogsmeade. Like most of the professors, he'd been expected to keep an eye on the students as they meandered around the village and to make sure none of them embarrassed the school during the Minister's speech. Finally, he'd spent the last two hours talking with young Justin Finch-Fletchley and making final preparations for the next morning's formalities.
In fact, he and the young Hufflepuff had discreetly met several times over the last few months. While Snape usually found the thought of social interaction with students to be completely repellent, in this case, their relationship demanded it. After all, in less than 24 hours, he would legally be the boy's Magical Guardian and also the Regent for his Noble House.
Snape marveled at the thought. "The Noble House of Prince, rising from the ashes of its last Lord's foolishness! Incredible!"
And with the House of Prince, Snape himself would rise to new heights. How astonishing that a Muggleborn child would finally be able to do for Snape what the Dark Lord had promised but never delivered! Pursuant to the agreement that Lucius had negotiated between Snape and Finch-Fletchley's Muggle parents and grand-father, Snape would first be recognized before the Wizengamot as Justin's magical guardian. Then, once the boy officially had a magical guardian, he would be eligible under the Prince charter to claim the status of Heir Presumptive of House Prince and also the Wizengamot seat that came with it. The Finch-Fletchley family was fantastically wealthy even by wizarding standards, and the funds to pay the Wizengamot dues were already waiting in a Gringotts escrow account to be transferred the second the Hufflepuff was deemed eligible to take the seat. Finch-Fletchley would take his Vow of Unity and appoint Snape as Regent, a position he would hold until Justin turned 25, at which point Snape would step down and receive a sizeable chunk of the Prince family's assets as reward for his service to the family.
Snape's eyes lit up almost cruelly as he contemplated how his bigoted grandfather, the last Lord Prince, would have reacted to this turn of events. Indeed, the Slytherin had briefly considered changing his name to Severus Prince before discarding the idea. He'd spent years as a Potions Master and teacher, working diligently to ensure that the name Severus Snape meant something. And now, he took savage satisfaction at the thought of someone named Snape sitting among the lords and ladies of the Wizengamot.
He smirked. "Forget about grandfather's reaction! I wonder what dear old Dad would have thought about it!"
His thoughts about various awful dead relatives were disrupted by a knock on his door. Grumbling, he headed over to see who it was. After Lily and Remus, he almost dreaded to see who it might be at this late hour.
And lo and behold, it was Harry Potter.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said. "To what new disaster do I owe this late-night visit?"
"No disaster, sir," the boy said cheerfully. "I understand you'll be at tomorrow's Wizengamot meeting anyway on behalf of Justin Finch-Fletchley. But... well, I always keep my promises."
With that, Harry held out an envelope to his Head of House. With narrowed eyes, Snape took it and ripped it open.
Inside, there was an engraved invitation.
Next: If you don't know what the engraved invitation is for, go reread Chapter 31 of The Secret Enemy (Chapter 65 of the entire work).
AN1: Just to remove any possible confusion, no, Cornelius Fudge is not an Unspeakable. At least one person who will play an important role in POS going for ward ... is.
AN2: 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.
AN3 (What the Sinister Man is reading):
"Far Too Many Time Travelers" by Lord Jeram has updated. I think I mentioned it before, but I'm pleased to see it continue. Also, it is perhaps apropos after Harry and Hermione's recent jaunts through time.
"In Which Sirius Black Fails to Argue With a Hat" by flamethrower (on Ao3). Sirius Black is Sorted into Slytherin and the whole world changes. Well, in some ways.
AN4: Special thanks to my Discord editors:
Anne-Athema Codex, blowback123, BlueWater5, darkphoenix31, Dude, FeatheryMinx, Fionan, Gabe, Krisni, Luc the Virtual Arm Twister, Magica, nik, No One, pizdets UTC+100, Pokeflute, TNT, Ulf, and ZombeyUnicorn.
AN5: Vital Statistics: Reviews: 13,667. Followers: 14,563. Favorites: 12,708. Communities: 215. Go Team POS!