Disclaimer: Isn't it rather monotonous to keep putting these up? Oh, well. Not mine, never will be.
A/N: I've had lots of reviewers point out my 'mistake' in the order in which the shades of Harry's parents emerged from Voldemort's wand during the previous chapter. I'm not going to go into detail on this, but, unlike the thing with Penelope Clearwater in chapter 25, what I wrote in the last chapter was completely on-purpose. I know Rowling admitted that it was a mistake when she did it that way, but not me. Trust me when I say it will eventually be addressed. Since I'm penning this note prior to actually writing the following chapter, I don't know if it will be addressed in this chapter or not, but I'm leaning towards either the next chapter or even the one after that. I could be wrong, though. After all, I had expected to only have a single chapter with Amelia in it and I ended up with several.
I also had some reviewers ask if the boy from the previous chapter – the first shade to emerge from Voldemort's wand – was Cedric. It wasn't. If you were reading carefully, a couple of chapters ago a muggle teenage couple had meandered into the Dark Lord's stronghold, looking for a place to neck. Bella killed the girl and ol' Moldyshorts killed the boy.
Another repeated question was: Why didn't Harry do the animagus transformation during the final scene of the last chapter? Though Harry knows what his form is, at this juncture in the tale, he has not yet mastered the transformation – his prior experience with his fully transformed form was only momentary and the result of a potion.
And now, without further ado, I present the next installment of 'All at Once,' wherein we find out just how nuts Harry really is, the ingenuity of the Weasley twins, and I resolve the 'cliffy' from last chappie, of course.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Do Not Poke the Dark Lord With Sticks
Harry blearily opened his eyes to the sound of birdsong. It was much louder than it should have been, had he been home. When he focused on the rock walls around him, the previous day came crashing back. So much for hoping it was a nightmare, he thought, groping for his wand. In the dappled, bright, early morning light streaming through the cave entrance, he grimaced at the state of his clothes. His pajamas were torn and muddy, his slippers were nearly falling apart, and his house coat was not only torn, muddy, and bloodstained, but also sported several scorch-marks where hexes from the duel had come far too close for comfort. He was also sore, physically exhausted, and rather smelly. I want a bath, breakfast, and to sleep for the next week – preferably in that order. He sighed and cautiously poked his head out of the cave entrance.
He was in an unidentifiable forest, undoubtably far from home. Didn't Chad say that Dumbledore mentioned something about the Riddles being from Little Hangleton? He thought hard for several minutes, trying to recall precisely where that was. When he finally pulled the information up from the recesses of his memory he groaned aloud. Walking, it would probably take him several days to return to Little Whinging. He wasn't about to try apparating, not after his mum's warning from the night before – not to mention that the last time he tried to do so, he'd only managed a distance of six short feet.
He was about to use his wand to transfigure his clothes into something more appropriate when he suddenly recalled that there were ways to track his magic. It was enough to make him groan again in frustration. He didn't think that the Death Eaters would have had enough time to set up a tracking charm for him the night before, so his lumos wasn't likely to have given away his position, but by now, they were undoubtably searching for him. Following hard on the heels of that thought was the realization that his family – his warped, weird, and completely unlikely family – would be searching for him by now. "To cast or not to cast, that is the question…" he muttered softly.
After weighing his options for several minutes, he decided not to; at least, not yet. "Guess that means I do this the muggle way." He got to his feet and ducked out of the small cave. I know the sun rises in the east, so that means that north is more-or-less that direction, he gestured to punctuate his thoughts, and so that means that home is somewhere… that way. He set off through the underbrush, valiantly ignoring his rumbling stomach and the ever-growing thirst at the back of his throat.
Back at the Kellerman house in Little Whinging, Remus was catching up on some sleep. He'd practically been forced to go to bed at roughly dawn. Sirius was working with the aurors and Jenn and Allen were both sitting on the sitting room sofa, clinging to one another, both literally and figuratively. Mike, Nigel, and Tim were at the shop – none of them were really all that fond of sitting around doing nothing, and there was really nothing they could do to help in the search for Harry. Chad was lending his – albeit limited – support to the aurors.
Though no one had said as much, Jenn knew that every hour that passed without sign of Harry, the chances he was alive and unhurt dropped dramatically. The only piece of good news she'd heard since the day before was that the aurors had located what used to be the Riddle Mansion in Little Hangleton, but it had been burned to the ground. Was, in fact, still smoking when the aurors showed. She thanked God for magic when the aurors said that no one had been inside the house when it burned. There was still hope. Granted, that hope was dwindling, but it was still there, nonetheless.
"He'll be all right, honey," Allen whispered.
"I hope so."
"He's a resourceful kid; he'll be all right."
Jenn wasn't sure if Allen was trying to convince her or himself. "I hope so," she repeated.
Neither jumped when the tall, black auror apparated into the hall. Striding into the sitting room, Kingsley announced, "I have good news and bad news."
Jenn closed her eyes and, though she wasn't particularly religious – indeed, she hadn't been to church since she graduated high school, much to her mother's dismay – sent out a silent prayer that the bad news wasn't what she feared.
"The good news is that we've located the site of a major magical battle; the duel couldn't have been more than twelve hours ago, as we were able to identify the magical signatures involved. The two involved in the duel were You-Know-Who and Harry."
Allen slowly raised his eyes to meet those of the auror with the gold hoop earring. "And the bad news?"
"There's still no sign of Harry, himself." Before he could continue, a silvery animal scurried through the wall, headed straight for Shacklebolt. It stopped at his feet and turned into a rather insubstantial-looking scroll. Shacklebolt picked it up and read it, when he let go of it, the scroll faded away to nothingness.
"Was that a –" Jenn started to ask.
Kingsley nodded, "A duck-billed platypus, yes. It's a message from Tonks. Seems that brother of yours is good for something after all – I admit I had my doubts. He found a trail of footprints heading away from the site of the duel and into a nearby forest. If it is indeed Harry, we should find him soon."
Jenn let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Thank God…"
Harry was more tired than he thought. The whole series of events the preceding day had worn him rather thin. Not long after setting out from the cave, he was hard-pressed to continue in a straight line. His mind was slightly disconnected from his physical self, still trying to process all that had happened in the last two days. The main thought that kept ringing throughout his head was that Voldemort was definitely more evil than anything else Harry had dealt with in his life. Harry's thoughts kept wondering at that; the fact that someone was more vile than the Dursleys… It was a lot to take in. It was no wonder that, with most of his attention turned inwards, and the rest of it making sure he didn't trip over a fallen log and break his neck, he failed to notice himself falling ill.
Though Harry knew that the knife used to claim his blood the night before had been far from clean, let alone sterile, he hadn't really realized it, nor the implications thereof. In the magical world, there were two types of diseases; the magical variety and the muggle variety. Most muggle diseases didn't affect magical beings, the common cold being just one exception, pneumonia – both viral and bacterial – being another. Magical diseases, on the other hand, affected – nearly without exception – solely magical beings; they also had a much shorter incubation time than muggle illnesses. Therefore, when a magical strain of the staphylococcus bacteria present on the silver dagger Crouch and Bellatrix had used the evening before was introduced to Harry's bloodstream, it was literally only a matter of time – hours, really – before the symptoms started to surface, particularly since Harry was in a state of exhaustion from both the duel and his flight through the woods. Neither his immune system nor his magic were up to the task of fighting very hard.
Harry's first clue that there was something more seriously wrong with him than mere tiredness, hunger, or thirst came when he started having little blips in his vision; times when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eyes, but when he turned his head to follow the shadow, it wasn't there. Harry had suffered illness before, 'suffer' being the correct term as the last time he'd been ill was when he was thirteen and still living with the Dursleys. Though state-sponsored healthcare was available, the Dursleys adamantly refused to take Harry to see a doctor whenever he became sick, citing the cost of petrol as one of many excuses – not to mention not wanting to be in close proximity to him. Growing up, whenever he was ill, Harry had grown accustomed to relying on himself and being locked up for the duration. During those times, he'd also come to understand his body's reaction to various degrees of fever. What with his mind on other things, he hadn't realized just how ill he was becoming until he saw Dudley Dursley out of the corner of his eye.
It wasn't until he'd whirled around, wand in hand, to hex his cousin that he became conscious of the fact that his cousin wasn't really there. He shakily put his wand away and leaned against a nearby tree. Great. Just bloody fantastic. He felt his forehead, it was hot even to his own touch. Just what I need… Harry closed his eyes and wished for a tall glass of ice water.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, but he heard something – someone – approaching through the forest. Even though he was ill, he could tell that the person or persons were following his back-trail. Panicked, he pushed himself off of the tree trunk and hurried on his way as fast as he could go on legs that were rapidly starting to feel more like rubber than limbs.
He didn't manage to get very far.
The world seemed to be floating off somewhere to his left, and a misplaced step caused him to trip rather spectacularly into a sluggishly flowing stream. Crawling, dripping with water, mud, and perspiration, he pulled himself out of the stream and back onto land. He was further delayed in going about his way by a series of violent sneezes to clear the water from his sinuses. When the sneezes had run their course, he went to stand, and tripped on the edge of his house coat.
This time, when he fell, he hit his head on a partially moss-covered stone buried in the forest floor. Dazed, he rolled onto his back and waited for the footsteps to catch up to him, beyond caring at this point if they were Death Eaters.
"Harry?"
The voice, filled with concern, came from somewhere off to his left. His glasses were somewhat askew, so he wasn't quite sure who the blurry-clear figure striding towards him was. When it came a little closer, it appeared to be topped with bright pink. "Tonks?" he asked.
"Merlin, Harry. You look like shite."
Harry smiled weakly. "Thanks. Feel like the same. Take me home?"
"Sure thing, Harry." She helped him to his feet, cast something that Harry didn't pay any attention to, and apparated them out of the forest.
Harry didn't remember much of what happened over the next few days, other than he felt completely wretched. On the upside, though, the Kellermans definitely didn't make him go to school, further proving that the Dursleys were bastards. There were three days in particular wherein Harry absolutely did not want to deal with anything school-related. His fever was causing him to have some… odd hallucinations.
The following Saturday, while he was finishing up the last of his make-up work, Harry was suddenly struck with an idea. It had him laughing so hard it made his ribs hurt. Once the laughter wore off, he hurriedly finished up his work and called Chad.
"Hello?" Chad answered on the third ring.
"Hi, Chad. Harry here, got a question for you."
"Then I might have an answer," Chad replied.
"In your professional opinion, just how unstable is Voldemort?"
There was a short silence while Chad mulled the question over. "Hmm… Personally, I think he's completely deranged, but Moody has told me many times that he can't be that far gone because he's still got control of his magic. Why?"
Harry giggled, and then tried to ignore the fact that he actually did so. Clearing his throat, he replied, "Because… I've got an idea."
"The four most-terrifying words in the English language," Harry could tell that Chad was grinning.
"What are you doing tomorrow, say… noonish?"
"I think my schedule miraculously just cleared. Where?"
"Sirius' place. I'm sure he won't mind."
"See you then."
"Bye." Harry ended the call and grabbed his sneakers and a jacket. He paused by the office long enough to tell Jenn he was heading over to Sirius'.
"You're looking better," she said.
"Feeling better, thanks. I'll be back in time for dinner, yeah?"
"With Sirius in tow, no doubt. Homework done?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
"Have fun and wear a coat."
Harry ran over to his godfather's house. Opening the door, he called out, "Sirius! You home?"
"In the sitting room," Sirius replied.
Harry hurried into the room and asked, "You doing anything tomorrow?"
"Not that I know of. What's up?"
"I have an idea… Can I use your floo?"
"Sure," Sirius replied, highly curious. "What's this idea of yours?"
"You'll find out tomorrow, along with everyone else," Harry grinned at him as he threw a handful of floo powder into the hearth. "The Burrow!"
Seconds later, Molly's head appeared in the fire. "Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"
"Evening, Mrs. Weasley. Would the twins be home?"
"Yes, they're here. I'll get them for you."
"What's this about, Harry? Why the twins, why not Arthur?" Sirius asked, his curiosity growing by the moment.
"Tomorrow, Sirius," Harry chided. Just then, two identical red-heads appeared.
"Hey, boss…"
"…Mum said you needed us?"
Harry smiled broadly. "How would you two like in on The Prank to End All Pranks?"
Harry couldn't possibly have picked a better way to phrase his question. The twins smiled evilly. "You've been…"
"…talking with Dad…"
"…haven't you?"
Harry nodded, "Guilty as charged. If you want in, come to Sirius' place tomorrow at noon."
"We'll be there," they chorused.
"Harry? What is going on?" Sirius whined.
Harry smirked, "Tomorrow, Sirius." He grabbed another handful of powder, this time contacting Professor Snape. Sirius retreated into the kitchen for the duration of that call.
"Mr. Potter."
"Professor Snape. Would I be able to steal some of your time tomorrow around noon?"
"What would this be concerning?"
"I need to go over what happened last week, and I had an idea that you might be able to help with."
"Indeed. Where did you wish to meet me?"
"I'm having everyone I want to talk with come over to Sirius' house."
Severus scowled. "Indeed," was all he said before terminating the connection.
Harry sighed, Wonder if they're ever going to get over themselves? Chad and Allen, too, for that matter.
"Harry…?" Sirius whined, leveling a pleading look at his godson.
"Sirius," Harry mocked. "I said tomorrow! And Jenn's making pork chops and stuffing for dinner, if you're hungry." Momentarily sidetracked by the prospect of one of his favorite dishes, Sirius, as Jenn had predicted, followed Harry back to the Kellermans'. During dinner, Remus realized that there was something odd going on with Harry. The only other time he'd seen Harry wear the particular look he sported throughout the meal was when he was coming up with the idea for Black Kettle Enterprises. Merlin save us if he's gone and gotten another idea like that. One thing's for sure, Moony old boy, the world certainly isn't going to be the same after he's done with it!
Sunday, April 12 dawned impossibly bright and warmer than it had been since the last breath of summer died the previous fall. Harry awoke to lazily warm sunlight pouring through his leaf-curtain. He took the chance to air out his room while he readied himself for a day that had equal chances of being either a dazzling success or degenerating into another brawl like the one he and Hermione had watched from under the table at the hotel conference room back in January. Once showered and dressed, he meandered to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea; he was too keyed up to eat. It was only about nine-thirty, and the earlier thought of Hermione made him realize that it had been a couple of weeks since he'd written to his Hogwarts friends. He passed the time writing lengthy letters to both of them, telling them some of what had happened to him over the last weeks. He wasn't sure how to tell them about his experience with Voldemort, and so just ended up stating that he'd talk to them about it in person.
Though most people would likely find it strange that Harry and Hermione – and to a slightly lesser extent, Ron – were as close as they were after only a handful of in-person meetings, Harry didn't think so. In his innumerable hours reading whilst locked in his cupboard – reading anything he could safely smuggle around in Dudley's cast-offs, which, if he were honest, could hide anything less than a complete set of the Encyclopedia Britannica – he'd read about the Celtic concept of anam cara, a group of souls that went through lives as people important to one another. He had adopted this concept into his personal philosophy and believed that Hermione, Ron, Allen, Jenn, Remus, Sirius, and Nigel were all parts of his anam cara group. He knew that the original concept said that enemies, as well as friends, were also part of the same anam cara, but Harry didn't hold with that. Why would two people who not only didn't get along, but hated each other want to spend more than one lifetime in each others' hair? Harry had thought when reading that particular segment. It wasn't until a year or so later when Harry had read another book on various reincarnation philosophies that the idea of enemies in his anam cara started to make sense. It had theorized in one chapter that a group of souls who spent many lifetimes together often switch roles around, like a troupe of actors. In one life, Harry's soul was Harry Potter; in the next, it might be someone's little sister, or his soul might decide to explore the darker half of human nature and become a bad guy. He still wasn't sure if he believed it or not, but it did lend a bit of light to why there were people who were definitely evil, yet still had people close to them. Voldemort and his Death Eaters make an excellent case-in-point, Harry mused, idly wondering where this latest train of thoughts had come from.
The letters and his philosophical musings on the concept of anam cara had the desired effect of passing the time, however. When Harry checked his watch after signing off on Ron's letter, he noticed that it was rapidly approaching eleven-thirty. He left a note on the dry-erase board on the fridge before heading over to Sirius'. Sirius met him at the front door. "It's tomorrow," he said.
"And as far as hints go, that one sucked." Harry grinned at Sirius and ducked under the Marauder's arms and into the house. "Anyone else here yet?"
"Just Remus," Sirius replied.
"Good, I forgot to tell him to come with me. Glad he's already here – saves me the trouble of calling home to let him know." Harry made his way to Sirius' sitting room.
"Hello, Harry," Remus greeted him. "May I ask why you're gathering four of the best pranksters of all time, a muggle psychologist, and a potions master?"
Harry grinned, "You'll find out when the others get here, Remus."
While they waited for the others to arrive, Remus and Sirius both tried their best to get Harry to talk, but he was remaining stubbornly silent. One by one – or in the case of the twins, two by two – the others Harry had invited arrived. At ten to noon, Snape was the last to show.
"Anyone need anything to drink?" Harry asked. After a round of negative replies, Harry continued. "I asked you all here today to put forth an idea I had. To put a little perspective on it, though, I think I should let you know what happened to me on Tuesday night." Over the course of the next half an hour, Harry told them about his encounter with Lord Voldemort, during which Chad took copious notes. By the time Harry was done, the twins were sporting identical expressions of awe, Remus and Sirius looked slightly ill, and Professor Snape was stonily unreadable. Harry assumed that this meant that the man was more disturbed than he cared to show while still in the presence of Sirius. Harry was just grateful that neither of them had opted to start in on the other.
"Now, with that out of the way, I believe I mentioned something about an idea, didn't I?" Harry smirked. "Well, it occurred to me that if the snake-faced bastard was otherwise occupied, he wouldn't be able to come after me or my friends."
"Just how do you propose to keep the Dark Lord 'otherwise occupied,' Potter?" Severus asked.
Harry's smirk broadened into a full-fledged grin which he leveled at the two Marauders and the twins. "By pranking him, of course!"
The silence which followed his statement was the sort that was often portrayed in cartoons as being punctuated by the sounds of crickets chirping. Harry rolled his eyes, "Come on, I know you're all rather intelligent. This isn't that hard of a concept to grasp!"
The Weasleys broke the silence. "You mean to keep You-Know-Who busy…"
"…by pranking him?"
Harry nodded, "Precisely. Now, I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill pranks. I'm not looking for fake wands or exploding cigars. What I need is a series of audio/visual hallucinations designed to irritate, annoy, and exasperate him into devoting his entire time to discovering how to be rid of them. Of course, this means that they'll need to be extraordinarily difficult to break."
Chad let out a low whistle, "Remind me to never get on your bad side, Harry."
"Perhaps a bit more extrapolation is in order." Snape's voice was calm and level. He may not enjoy the company of most of the people in the room, but he had to award a touch of respect to someone audacious enough to come up with such a plan. It had the further appeal of never having been tried before.
Remus nodded in agreement with his former colleague. "What, precisely, did you have in mind?"
Harry began outlining some of the ideas he'd come up with. It took several hours, and before the meeting was done, the twins were floored by the fact that they were joining pranking forces with their long-time idols, and said idols, along with Severus, were shocked to realize that they'd been working together for several hours with only the most minimal of insults thrown.
Harry was more than satisfied with the results of the afternoon, and was looking forward to hearing back from Severus and the twins the following week. That had been another revelation that Harry wasn't sure the professor would ever recover from; the fact that the twins were likely his equals in the potions' arena and that they'd been throwing their grades for most of their Hogwarts careers. Sirius and Remus would be working with Chad to come up with the most grating things for the hallucinations that they could. They had all agreed to meet up again the following Saturday.
At dinner that evening, Remus reflected that Harry's 'planning something' expression had mutated into one that distinctly rivaled that of a satisfied feline.
13 April
Snape-
Flobberworm base not thin enough for delivery mechanism.
Compound runic algorithm incorporated into chlorophyll combined with sorghum shows promise on reality variables.
Thoughts on siren blood?
-F&G
13/04/98
Mssrs. Weasley-
Is it too much for your limited intelligence to bother using complete sentences?
I concur with your observations on the algorithm, though chlorophyll is notoriously unstable. Combining it with sorghum lessens this trait, however it decreases the effectiveness of the runic magic. This may not be an issue. Do we know if these hallucinations need be real to the touch?
Siren blood would be an excellent base, its properties are such that it would enhance the overall effect of the potion, but as an ingredient, it is prohibitively expensive. We might try the combination of griffin dander, rainwater, and stardust. It would have similar effects, yet if we go that route, the algorithm would need to be recalculated to address the addition of non-planetary material.
-Prof. S. Snape
14 April
Snape-
Price isn't an issue. Bring on the siren blood!
Just a thought, have you tried that program of Harry's? Maybe it can point us in a better direction.
Preliminary trials with the chlorophyll compound prove unsuccessful. Can get either sight or sound, but not both at the same time, the fifth runic vector appears to be the culprit. Is there any way to incorporate a cyclic draining charm? Our sources state that its possible, but don't go into any detail. We think it would solve part of the stability issue.
-F&G
14/04/98
Weasleys-
Dare I ask how you managed to get Potter to agree to the use of siren blood?
Incorporating the charm would be a valid way to solve stability, yet it then brings up the probability of the Dark Lord tracing the lingering magical residue in the charm back to you. I would assume we would like to avoid that if at all possible. Using invisibility cloth might be able to mask the magical signature, should we choose to incorporate a draining charm. I would presume that if siren blood poses no financial burden, the cost of invisibility cloth would prove likewise.
The thought had crossed my mind to make use of Mr. Potter's computer program, yet I haven't the time to do so this week. The fifth and seventh years are starting preparations for their OWLs and NEWTs, and as such they have a correspondingly high workload.
-Prof. S. Snape
"What about something totally muggle? That really ought to put a dent in his day," Sirius chuckled.
Chad looked up, "I have a couple of ideas, if we decide to go that route."
"Do tell," Remus looked frankly curious.
The three of them were drinking tea, sitting around Sirius' kitchen table. Chad let out a small, humorless laugh. "Well, growing up, me and Jenny were dragged to church every Sunday by our folks. Catholic, you know, though now I tell most folks I'm recovering. I don't think that either Jenny or me have been inside a church, except for our respective weddings, since we graduated high school. Anyway, the priest that gave the Sunday sermons after we'd moved to the Boston area was a real hellfire-and-brimstone sort. He probably could have made a killing if he'd been pretty enough for television."
"You want to preach at the most evil wizard of the age?" Sirius asked, incredulous.
"Why not? Two, three hours of that sort of preaching would be enough to make even the most devout want to put a gun barrel in their mouth."
Remus laughed at the mental image Chad's words had conjured up. "There's other things that might be more effective. Most wizards either don't follow religion or still hold to the Old Ways."
"Old Ways?"
"The pagan religions that predominated prior to the advent of Christianity," Remus clarified.
Chad shrugged, "Whatever. It was just a thought. If you still want something muggle… well, I had the distinct displeasure of being subjected to a horrible TV show about a year ago when my daughter, Jesse, and my granddaughter, Ellie, visited. Either of you ever hear of 'Barney?'"
16 April
Snape-
You do realize that you'd have more free time if you didn't assign so much work, don't you?
And we think this particular project is being financed by our employer, so the cost of ingredients really isn't an issue. If you want to know more about that, you'll have to talk to Harry.
Using invisibility cloth is a good approach. We've had success with some of our other endeavors in using it to mask the magical signature of charms added to some of our more creative pranks. And no, the hallucinations shouldn't be real to the touch. If they were, they would provide far too much in the way of satisfaction if the DL tried hexing them, not to mention that it would rouse too much suspicion in the DE ranks if a thrown cup or something bounced off something that wasn't really there.
Other than the delivery mechanism, have we given any thought to how we're going to get these little concoctions into the DL's presence?
-F&G
16/04/98
Weasleys-
Leave the delivery to me. Enclosed is an atomizer of the appropriate size. Have either of you spoken with Mr. Thomas's group? It would be beneficial to know whether we will need to configure the potion for layered imagery or not.
Why would I consider lessening the workload of my students? Is it not my job to prepare them for the unreasoning demands on their time they will face as adults?
-Prof. S. Snape
17 April
Snape-
Do you know what happens if you combine Pepper-up with muggle espresso and chocolate? Genius.
We had the fourth runic variable wrong. Changing it from Tyr to a compound Haegal/Eh/Lagu rune will solve the majority of the issues that have surfaced. In fact, if we remove Wyrd entirely, even the issues of viscosity and traceability disappear. Adding Is to the equation makes the entire thing unbreakable except by a highly trained potions master.
-F&G
Severus groaned at the twins' latest note. He suddenly realized that, if not immediately, then eventually, the Dark Lord would be demanding much of his precious spare time to work on 'breaking' the spells. With luck, perhaps that won't be necessary. Severus snorted at the optimistic voice in the back of his head before shoving it back where it belonged, in the deepest recesses of his highly-organized mind.
Unaware of the flurry of owls passing between Fred, George, and Professor Snape, as well as the ever-increasing absurdity of ideas boiling up among Sirius, Remus, and Chad, Harry spent his week working on both his schoolwork and his magical lessons. He'd received word from Professor Vector that he was starting to catch up with the current seventh year class, and the professor for Ancient Runes had told him the same. He knew he was slightly ahead of the potions' class – his lesson with Snape had been Sunday evening, and the professor had informed him of that during their brewing. He was even making progress with the animagus transformation. During his lesson on Tuesday evening, he'd managed to change his hair to a crop of feathers that were harder to get rid of than to obtain. In defense, however, he pushed himself harder than ever before. It was one thing to have a natural talent for mathematics – something that made his learning of arithmancy so easy – and his knack for science carried over to the potions laboratory, but dueling was something that he'd never had to do before, unless one counted evading Dudley and his pack of Harry Hunters.
When Remus managed to best him the third time in a row on Monday afternoon, he mentioned that he was surprised that he'd escaped Voldemort so easily. Harry replied that fear for one's life often made them capable of extraordinary feats, but acknowledged the fact that Voldemort had likely been thrown off-balance by the combination of Harry's banter before the duel proper and the probability that he'd been expecting an untrained pushover. Harry knew he wouldn't have the benefit of surprise again, and so began training in every spare moment. When not actually drilling Remus for defense theory, he could often be found working on making most of his spell-knowledge wandless through the meditative trance he'd used in the basement of the Riddle mansion. He also began getting up an hour earlier each morning and going for a jog around the neighborhood. He wasn't about to give up even the smallest possible edge in the fight against the Dark Tosser.
Thursday afternoon, Harry's phone vibrated to let him know he had an incoming call. Excusing himself from his 3D art class, he quickly stepped out into the hall and answered the call. It was from Andie Tonks, letting him know that a court-date for Dudley had been selected for May 29 at nine in the morning. Harry thanked her for the information and went back to his clay.
Saturday, April 18, 1998 was one of those rare, beautiful days in early spring where the sunlight was bright and strong, there was no wind to speak of, and the sky was a perfect shade of faded-levis blue, dotted here and there with fluffy, white clouds. Early-season flowers were all blooming brightly, trees were starting to unfurl their leaves, and birds were chirping the morning away. Contrasted with this glorious weather outside, Sirius' sitting room was a disappointment. The curtains were closed, so only a weak echo of the bright sunlight outside filtered into the room. There were piles of notes scattered over every horizontal surface, including the sofa and the floor. And since Sirius wasn't much of a housekeeper to begin with, there was thick dust on every seldom-used item, and empty coffee and tea mugs were scattered hither and yon.
Harry was standing in the doorway, hard-pressed not to break out laughing. Remus was stretched out on the floor, his face buried in a rather impressive tome, snoring loudly. Sirius was sitting nearby, using the coffee table as a desk, and he had obviously fallen asleep mid-word while writing, as the last thing on the parchment was '…singin' followed by a long trail of ink. Chad was nowhere to be seen.
"It's a sight, isn't it?" the previously unaccounted-for Chad whispered from just behind Harry.
Harry nodded. "That it is, Chad. I almost hate to wake them."
Chad snickered quietly. "Go ahead. Those two have gotten more sleep in the last week than I have since you hired me. You can tell neither of them are at all accustomed to having to go without sleep for long periods."
Harry, remembering a couple of incidents where he had been rudely ripped from sleep by Remus, pulled out his wand and whispered, "Rictusempra."
Remus quivered, then jerked awake laughing. Seeing that he was very awake, Harry cancelled the spell. Remus then took several minutes to stretch and yawn, stammering out, "That… wasn't… even… nice!" between said yawns. Harry simply grinned.
"Mutt can sleep through anything, can't he?" Chad said, motioning to Sirius.
Remus shrugged, waited for yet another yawn to run its course, and replied, "Yeah, he can." He smiled and chuckled a little, "Let me wake him, yeah? It seems to me that I have yet to get him back for a particularly rude morning back in our seventh year." He stood and pulled out his wand.
Harry stepped aside and shrugged, "Have at him." He was curious as to what spell Remus was going to use.
Remus smiled a little ferally, aimed his wand, and said, "Aguamenti."
A stream of water shot from Remus' wand and hit Sirius right on his head. Remus cancelled the spell as quickly as he cast it and had his wand away before a sputtering Sirius had the chance to clear the water from his eyes. "Looks like you've got a little problem there, Padfoot."
Realizing that he'd been subjected to a prank, Sirius growled and sprang for Remus, changing mid-leap into his canine alter-ego. Chad and Harry watched from the relative safety of the doorway whilst all-out war descended on the sitting room. "Shouldn't we have popcorn?" Chad asked.
"Point," Harry replied and conjured some.
About fifteen minutes later, the floo flared, and the twins stepped directly into the chaos. They took a split-second to assess the situation before exchanging bright grins, and shouting, "Free-for-all!" and joining in the melee.
"Twenty bucks on the twins," Chad said, munching on the popcorn, and watching as the Marauders joined forces against the freckled redheads.
"Naw, Sirius and Remus will take them. They've got more experience," Harry replied as Sirius got one of the twins with a tarantallegra.
"But the boys have more energy, they'll outlast them." Chad lazily ducked as a stray transfiguration curse whizzed overhead.
Just then, the floo flared once more and Professor Snape stepped through. He was immediately hit with a spell that turned his hair neon pink. Once realizing this, which wasn't more than a fraction of a millisecond, his wand was out. His first petrificus hit Sirius squarely in the chest, the second took care of Remus. The twins' faces paled when they realized just who it was that had appeared in their midst. "Run!" one of them shouted. They were both mere steps from the door – and safety – before they found themselves chained together at the ankle. They tripped, and before they could use their unequaled powers of cooperation to stand and continue fleeing, Severus had them both shackled to rings he'd transfigured from the floor.
Idly canceling the spell on his hair, Snape glared first at the twins, then at the Marauders. "One cannot help but wonder just what is going on here."
The entire sequence of events, from the time Severus appeared in the floo until he spoke that sentence had taken a mere ten seconds. Chad looked impressed, and Harry was chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Chad answered, "Just blowin' off some steam. Popcorn?" he held out the bowl.
It took Harry a good ten minutes to set the room to rights as he had to stop every few moments to laugh. Once everything was back to the way it was before he'd woken Remus, he motioned for Chad and the professor to have a seat. He then turned his attention to undoing the spells holding the twins and the Marauders captive. Once freed, they all took seats around the room, looking expectantly at Harry. Harry shrugged and merely said, "Well? We all know why we're here. What've you got for me?"
"Well," Fred said, "we're pretty sure that we've figured out how to make those hallucinations you wanted. And, we're also pretty damn sure that they'll be bugger-hard to break."
Snape snorted and rolled his eyes, "What, I am sure, the Gryffindor imbecile is trying to say is that we have a potions-based medium for delivery. It is currently awaiting the charms for whatever hallucinations are to be used."
"Quick question," Chad piped up. "Can the images we use be layered, so that if he manages to get rid of one, another will surface?"
George shot an 'I-told-you-so' look at the professor. "Yes, it can. Thought that might come in handy, we did."
"And what, precisely, will those images be?" Snape queried.
Sirius and Remus both began talking at once before Chad interrupted them and took it on himself to explain their ideas.
Two weeks later, a house-elf loyal to Hogwarts and subsequently all the Hogwarts staff, was instructed to add the potion he carried in his tea-towel loincloth to all meals for The Evil One after having been told to join the staff of elves already serving said Evil One. The elf wasn't happy about his orders, but he knew that he had no choice in the matter – he only hoped that he would go unnoticed. He'd heard how The Evil One treated elves… On the positive side, though, he would get the chance to see how some of his relatives were doing, in particular his favorite cousin, Dobby.
The potion was a light golden color, and the elf rather liked the small bottle it was in. It reminded him of some of the perfume bottles that the students used. He wondered whether or not he'd be allowed to keep the bottle when the potion was gone.
Voldemort was enjoying a mid-afternoon nap on May fourth before he noticed anything out of the ordinary. He was hovering in that hazy area between awake and true sleep when he heard something coming from the corner of his bedchamber at Malfoy Manor.
"This ol' man, he played one…"
The Dark Lord snapped to full consciousness in a split-second and looked wildly around the darkened room. His eyes fell on a small child, a little girl, standing next to the heavily-curtained window. She was around four years of age, cherubically innocent with a round face, wide eyes, and pigtails. She was wearing a frilly, blue dress and singing. "Lucius didn't mention any children other than Draco…" Voldemort mused, going for his wand.
He aimed at the little girl.
"Silencio," he murmured.
The girl's singing got louder. "Knick-knack-paddy-whack, give a dog a bone, this ol' man came rollin' home…"
"What the hell?" Voldemort shook his head, then his wand, unconsciously mimicking what he'd seen muggles do to torches that flickered whilst growing up. "Silencio!"
It didn't work.
"THIS OL' MAN, HE PLAYED THREE, HE PLAYED KNICK-KNACK ON MY KNEE…"
"I'll play something on your knee if you don't shut up!" He aimed a third time. "Avada Kedavra!"
Instead of falling down dead, the curse hit the little girl and she glowed green for a moment before doubling in size and splitting into two identical clones. One of them continued singing while the other grew taller and darker. The blue dress morphed into long, black robes with a stiff, white collar. The girl's cherubic face hardened into that of a middle-aged man. "Repent, sinner, for the time of Armageddon is at hand!"
A small tick developed just under Voldemort's left eye.
A/N2: All right, so I was sick for a week and a half while writing this. It shows all too well, doesn't it? It's also part of the reason this chappie was so long in coming. Sheepish grin. Sorry about that.
I also fully admit to being an American. And, as I've not had my own internet connection for some months – going on a year now – I haven't been able to research the ways in which British culture differs from that of the US. Writers write what they know, and I have to say that it is obvious when dealing with this particular story. I'm truly sorry about all the Americanisms – like Harry learning to drive when he did and his muggle schooling and such, but all I really know is the system I grew up with. Hell, the laws on getting a drivers' license here in Iowa literally changed the day after I got mine, and so I don't really know the details on the US laws regarding that anymore. When I get my internet back, I'll try to go through the story and rewrite bits of it to be more Brit-compliant. Until then, though, I'll leave you with what my Mom told me – this is my world. It isn't the real world, and it definitely ain't cannon. Just accept the differences for now. If it helps, think of this as the world sandwiched between this one and the one in cannon.
One last thing; I don't know if I want to include a trial chapter for the situation with Dudley or not. If I do, then it will probably be completely Americanized, simply because the only experience I have with court stuff is either traffic court or the stuff I've seen in movies. What do y'all think? Trial shown or not?
(I had the odd pleasure of getting to watch 'Snakes on a Plane' while writing this. It was odd simply because I kept expecting Harry to appear and give the snakes a sound scolding or start up a chorus line or something… Guess that means I spend way too much time in HP land, ya think?)
This ol' man, he played seven,
he sent a review straight from heaven...