Desiring Other Times
Chapter 13 – R&R
Disclaimer: If I were to walk onto the streets and loudly proclaim that I was J. K. Rowling and that I owned Harry Potter, no-one would believe me. In fact, the only people that would pay attention to me would be gullible idiots and children.
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I may come across as an excessively bookish sort of person, but how many of those Quidditch types could say they could best me in a duel? How many of them could say they could outrun me on a 100m track? An 800m track? The Wizarding World encourages people to be lazy, to be completely and utterly unfit – even Quidditch is more a sport than a form of exercise.
In the Muggle world, I would merely be seen as somebody that understood the benefits of focussing on both the mind and body.
The wizards are fools, I say.
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"Concentrate on the change, jab your wand at the box, whirl the tip widdershins through three-quarters of a circle, jab again, then say 'Figura cambire'."
The sounds of a classroom full of First Years all trying out the incantation echoed through the stone room, and McGonagall tried her best not to sigh exasperatedly. I rolled my eyes – Dean Thomas hadn't yet learned that 'widdershins' meant counter-clockwise – jabbed my wand at the little wooden box, swished the tip through three-quarters of a circle, jabbed again and silently enunciated the spell.
Transfiguration had always been a little more difficult than the other subjects to do silently, as you had to focus on both the intended change and the spell. Wandless and silent transfiguration – wandless and silent anything, really – was beyond me. It would probably always be beyond me, as it would take far more than a vampire Animagus form and a little talent to get as far as Voldemort and Dumbledore had. It was truly a pity that the old blood always tended to be stronger. Not to mention there were fewer laws to break back then, and blood rituals, body/magic altering potions and such-like had probably not become illegal in their days, if not widely accepted.
A shimmer – like a mirage – surrounded the box I was transfiguring, and I focussed on the box changing into a small statuette of a typical Muggle dragon. Focus, focus, focus!, I chanted to myself, and the box…!
Burst into flames.
"Damn," I cursed under my breath and went to get another box. This time, I didn't push so hard with my magic, and the box smoothly changed into the intended shape.
"Excellent work, Mr. Potter." McGonagall murmured softly. "Five points to Ravenclaw!" she declared, and the other students turned around to try and look at what I had transfigured my box into.
"Pretty," Lisa cooed, and the boys rolled their eyes. "But it is!" She insisted, and Padma nodded vigorously, agreeing.
"A pity the transfiguration only lasts for a bit – it is kinda cool looking." commented Felran. "I wish they'd teach us Transmutation." He added wistfully, again unsuccessfully trying to transfigure his box.
"Mr. Chase, there are few enough Alchemists left on this planet for them to waste their time trying to teach a castle full of students that probably won't have the talent needed to learn. If you wish to learn Transmutation, then wait until you graduate and see if you qualify for an Apprenticeship." chided McGonagall, and I rolled my eyes.
Who needed to be an Alchemist when you had the Holy Grail? Sure, it was probably more efficient if you didn't have to carry around a cupful of water everywhere, and only need a piece of chalk and a surface to Transmute things, but that was still more troublesome than other, more conventional magics.
Well? A voice hissed into my mind.
I glanced up at the smoky ghost of the Other-Harry.
Well what? I asked him.
Are you still sure you don't want to fuse? If we had, you would've been able to transfigure that on the first go. He pointed out.
You misunderstand the typical Ravenclaw mind – we find the accomplishing more rewarding than the actual accomplishment. I have no desire to learn things without working just that little bit for it.
It wouldn't be any different to what you did with Flitwick.
Yes it would – I still had to work to get the info from Flitwick, to unpack the whole damn lot and to sort them out. With… with this, I wouldn't have to work at all!
But it's close enough – you didn't have to learn what Flitwick did. You took advantage of his vulnerability. At least this time I'm giving you permission to take what I know. He argued, trying to poke holes at my resolve.
Isn't it enough that I managed to use the Holy Grail to give you a temporary body?
The Other-Harry snarled. I can't help anyone like this, goddammit! I can only watch as everything goes to hell!
I frowned. Are you so full of yourself that you think that only with your help can Voldemort be defeated? Are you really that arrogant! I demanded, and he had the grace to look chagrined.
That's not it. It's… look, I can't stand watching things happen when I know that if I change them, I could be saving us a heck of a lot of trouble down the road.
This isn't even your universe – things are already different here, so how do you know that what you do won't make it worse? And haven't you heard of the Butterfly Effect?
The Other-Harry puffed out a sigh. If we merge, then there'll be enough of your mind there to keep my half in check. And considering this is your body, your universe, your mind will eventually get supremacy of… of 'us'.
I can't trust you, you know. Even if you say you're Harry Potter, you look more like my brother and we're not even alike in personality. I mean, you ended up in Gryffindor while I ended up in Ravenclaw. We're not the same, and probably won't ever believe you.
He sighed. What is it they say? 'Don't knock it until you've tried it'? Please. Trust me. I can help.
What use is having all that knowledge when I can't get out of here earlier? It'll only drive me stir crazy, you know. I argued, and he flinched. They don't let students early graduation until sixth year, and that's if they take their NEWTs in sixth. Remember that officially, I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived so I don't really have an excuse to need to go and become apprenticed to, I don't know, the necromancer that lives down the road.
You're more worried about how bored you'll be than being able to save people? He was incredulous, and I knew that for the first time, the Other-Harry really began to question his decision of going into another dimension.
I'm not a bloody Gryffindor – I'm not recklessly brave, I'm intelligent. Trying to save those idiots – you know how you told me about that smear campaign the Ministry ran against you? Well, what's the point of saving people that don't know you? That don't care about you unless you're going to save their sorry skins?
You shouldn't hold that against the others that do… that would support you.
Jeremy's the Boy-Who-Lived, remember. I'm just the brother that's supposedly going to die. Nobody's going to cheering for that, really, unless I've managed to make some enemies while I wasn't looking.
He looked sharply at me. You've been extremely careful about that, haven't you? Other-Harry commented.
What do you mean by that? Are you accusing me of kissing ass? Because I haven't.
Then what do you call going to Malfoy Manor? If I recall correctly, you're not 'recklessly brave', so what was your reason to go? He pointed out smugly, trying to turn my argument against me.
If you must know, I went because it seemed intriguing. And because it was something to do during the holidays.
People say that about picking up a hobby, not walk into a potentially fatal situation! So what were you really doing?
Seeing what they were doing. And because I needed to get away from the castle for awhile.
Curiosity killed that cat, mister. And that's called going from the frying pan into the fire. Other-Harry shot back.
Well, I didn't get burned – moving my Animagus schedule forward several months was worth it. And what is it with you and cliché old wives' proverbs?
Other-Harry shrugged. Generally, people get the idea of what I'm trying to say. And you were only lucky that Lucius didn't bother to pry into your mind – I suppose he was too busy looking into other minds while you were there. But what's to stop him the next time you go?
Who says I'm going to go again? I retorted.
You joined their group. You have to go back. Or at least visit, if not stay. He pointed out, and I conceded that he was completely and utterly correct.
And just how will your presence save me from any danger? I answered snidely, bringing the conversation back to the topic Other-Harry had been bugging me about ever since he'd arrived.
Do you really think you could take Lucius on in a fight and win? And be able to finish him off quickly enough that there aren't any witnesses like say, Draco?
I hesitated. Do you seriously think that after a few months in this place you'll be able to take on someone that's spent almost seven years in a school like Hogwarts? Moody's words echoed about my mind, wrapping and constricting about the confidence I had in my abilities. Malfoy senior had never been one to follow the law, and he had – if rumour proved true, which it probably was – served under Voldemort, so it was only to be expected that he had also started to walk down the path of Magical enhancement.
Here's something else I haven't told you, Harry. Other-Harry spoke up, interrupting my thoughts. I looked up at him, the little transfigured statuette from earlier in my palm.
What? I prompted.
I can teach you some Parsel Magic. I can tell you where the Chamber of Secrets is. Slytherin never let any of his books leave his castle or the library in the Chamber, nor did he allow for them to be copied. Draco won't ever learn Parsel Magic and if your Voldemort is anything like mine, he didn't get the time to explore the Chamber properly, and Slytherin's property was added to the Gryffindor assets when Gryffindor slew him. Here, Other-Harry seemed to become even more serious, even more stern. Slytherin Castle is one of the properties that the main heir to the Gryffindor line inherits – your father should be that heir, and your brother will become that heir, until his death. Of course, if he has a child before he dies then they'll inherit, but if not… then you will.
I rolled my eyes. Is it just me or is this all sounding a little… unrealistic? And I mean, why are you trying to make me feel good that my brother's going to die, and to hope that he never has any children? That's not particularly Gryffindor-like, is it?
It may sound unrealistic, but to Muggles, magic is unrealistic. Prophecies are unrealistic, even to most of the Wizarding World. Everything your life is practically guaranteed to be unrealistic. He replied matter-of-factly.
But that's more like I deserve to have some moments of realism in my life! Some sense of reality! I shouted in my mind.
Is that why you're refusing my offer? He commented shrewdly. Because you feel like if you let this happen, your life will irrevocably become like something out of a fiction book?
I looked away, and he seemed to think it answer enough. So you think it'll all be fine even if people die, just as long as you think things are real enough? Is that what you want? People to be murdered because you couldn't – wouldn't allow for your life to become unreal?
You don't have to say it like that. And anyway, what's wrong with just having me get you a new body? I mean, I'm almost finished making it… I muttered mutinously.
How are you going to explain my sudden appearance into this world?
Fake some papers? I suggested, and he sighed.
The Wizarding World may seem a little more archaic than the Muggle world, but it still has its good points. And it is extremely difficult – nigh impossible, in fact – to fake papers. To create a false identity. He explained with whatever bit of patience he had left.
Well, what's wrong with that? I mean, why do you have to be known in the Wizarding World? Isn't it better if you just head off, kill Voldemort, then, I don't know, wander around? Make a new life?
I left my world so I could be back with my friends. I didn't leave it to end up in a foreign land and have to make a new life – which I could have done back in my world! He almost shouted, and I grimaced.
Well, it's not like I hang around with Hermione or Ron much. So why don't I make you a body that's about twelve, say you're an orphan that was home-schooled and have you enter the school next year? What's wrong with that?
Dumbledore would poke around for magical parents that had recently died. And that'd be too easy for him to figure out. He pointed out. Some Ravenclaw you are.
Well, why don't you tell Dumbledore and he can help? I wondered not for the first time why I hadn't told Dumbledore myself.
Because he can't be trusted. Because he is as stubborn as a mule and anything he hasn't planned for must be removed. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore will never ever allow for my existence to continue. He was completely and utterly certain of this, and it showed in the way he spoke, in a tone that brooked no argument.
So why should I? Why should I help you? I mean, Dumbledore's- McGonagall swooped past my corner of the classroom and I hurried to get another box and proceed to transfigure it. –Dumbledore's the one who got rid of Grindelwald, even if people say he was just the only person to survive. He's still incredibly wise-
That's code for old, Harry. He's getting old, he's not so willing to bend when he should bend. Trust me when I say that Dumbledore will be killed because he refuses to give up on things he should just let go of.
I narrowed my eyes and tried to distract myself by transfiguring my new box into a simplified model of Hogwarts castle. But then I remembered that the Founders could have embedded a hidden design into the very castle itself, and decided that it probably wasn't safe to try it inside of a Transfiguration class.
For the rest of the class, Other-Harry didn't say another word. The bell rang and I exited into the quickly crowding corridor, with the ghostly figure – visible only to me – trailing behind me. Some of the ethereal Hogwarts ghosts seemed to pause and look about if Other-Harry travelled too closely to them, but they never seemed to realise that the 'disturbance' was somebody unseen.
You know, I seriously do not believe that you have the Grail hidden well enough. Where the words first out of his mouth when he decided to start talking again.
I scowled at him, moving through the many wards I had set about the Grail. A similar set protected the sphere, but it was in another compartment of my trunk.
That's what you think. These aren't the only things that are protecting the Grail.
His eyes widened. Really? I didn't see them – and I should have, I can sense magic like you can.
It's not just magic protecting this. There's normal Muggle traps as well.
The light of curiosity in his eyes died. Is that all? That's hardly an improvement.
I snorted. The typical wizard or witch wouldn't know what hit them.
I suppose. He conceded grudgingly.
I looked up at him, pausing in my work on the faux body I was working on. You're not going to say you could help with protecting these things? I was a little surprised at his unexpected restraint.
He shrugged, misty shoulders rising and falling a little eerily. The coloured fog his body seemed to be made of refracted the light so that what I could see 'through' him didn't quite match up to what I saw to the sides of him – it was like he was a hologram that didn't have a source and was aware of its surroundings.
It's no point arguing with you – you seem quite intent on playing Devil's Advocate where I'm concerned.
I snorted and rolled my eyes. And I suppose that you think that by saying that, you've proved you're not as stubborn as the Dumbledore in your world?
Other-Harry shrugged again. If it works, it works. If it doesn't… He smiled wryly. …then I try and find another way of getting the point across.
I shook my head. You're hopeless, you know?
His face twisted into an expression I couldn't quite place. I was. But then I came here.
Other-Harry's simple words seemed to stab and twist at my emotions in a manner far more moving than his sophistic spiels. And I knew that those words were his attempt at reaching out for my human nature. A final desperate call to whatever vestiges of general good will and the scraps of heart he believed I still possessed.
Goddammit, the man knows how to argue…
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Author's Notes: This was an exposition chapter, and also a kind of interlude as we move onto the next arc.
1. R&R – While you may recognise that as 'Read & Review', the title is meant as 'Rest & Recreation', the military shortening.
2. Figura – figure, form, shape. Cambire – 'exchange', root of Late Latin 'cambiare', which was root of Old French 'changer'. Entire spell 'Figura Cambire' means 'Shape Change' or similar. Original spell.
3. Widdershins – a real word, meaning anti-clockwise, against the sun. In literary terms, it sometimes means 'against sense' or 'against nature'.
4. Has anyone's parents ever said 'When I was your age, I knew all the names of the Presidents' or something similar? Well, back when they were our age, there weren't so many presidents! In this case, back in the old days, some laws were stricter (like how England deported you for stealing a loaf of bread), and some didn't exist at all.
5. Transmutation, Alchemy – I'm taking my cue from Full Metal Alchemist, where you need to draw alchemy circles to transmute things. The Philosopher's Stone was the pinnacle of Alchemy, as it was capable of bending the rules of 'Exact Exchange' – which is a modified kind of conservation of energy theory.
6. Parsel Magic – it's been decided: this exists. In Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Riddle says 'I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school', and this was right after he killed the first and last student with the Basilisk. I'm gathering that Riddle was quite ruthless in his Hogwarts years, and had he had the time to go exploring in the Chamber, he would also have killed several students, not just one. Hence: Riddle and Draco won't know much Parsel Magic, if at all.
7. Realism – many Harry Potter fanfictions have a tendency to have overly powered characters (particularly Harry), as the rather plot-hole ridden canon along with 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' kind of leave things wide open for unimaginative and/or inexperienced writers to have Super-Harrys running around. Unfortunately, I can't say I fall into the category of inexperienced, and hence I quite sadly fall into the 'unimaginative' sector. I've tried my best to be a little more realistic, but trying to model it on canon means I have a mixture of Book Six strength (like Snape's incredible formidability) and Book One simplicity. This results in rather unrealistic plots, but as time goes on, you won't even notice! wink wink
The next chapter heralds the beginning of the Chamber of Secrets arc! What on earth…? The Diary makes an appearance, but not in the hands of Ginny Weasley! Not in the hands of a Ravenclaw! Also happening soon is a murder and Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban!