Chapter 2
Walking the Line
I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be living where I'm living, and I would be living in a huge ass mansion surrounded by all the media related things I want.
There's been some good reviews! And one not so good review. But that's okay. So, this project's been green lighted, and is ready to go! So...
LET'S DO THIS!
POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford
As we helped the boy, Neville Longbottom, to find his toad, I found my father unconscious with a very familiar woman fawning over him... We had photos of her all over the house. Before I could enter the compartment to speak to her, Hermione tugged my wrist.
"Come on! Let's go check the other compartments!"
"Just wait..." I pull out my wand. "Let's make this quick... Accio Trevor!"
A toad came flying down the hall, and landed in Hermione's hair.
"Get it off, Get it off!"
"Got it!" I say in victory, pulling it off her. It's a pudgy little guy, squirming in my hands.
"Trevor!" Neville runs up to us. "Thanks so much!" He says as he takes the toad from my hands.
"Keep him on a leash or something." I recommend to him.
"I don't think they make leashes for toads-"
"I know, I know, just saying."
POV: Reynald Hayes Crawford.
I stumble out of unconsciousness, breathing heavily. I stare up into those very familiar hazel brown eyes. After all those years... I can still remember who they belonged to.
Arianne... Oh my god... Arianne...
"Are you okay? You just fainted!" The woman before me exclaimed, hovering over me and checking every part of me out.
"It's nothing... Just startled, is all..." I reply. "You reminded me of someone very important to me..." That was an understatement.
"Okay then..."
"So you're here to teach Ancient Runes?"
She nods, smiling. She even has her smile... She has to be some corporeal ghost. That's right, she has to be...
Or this is just some cruel dream.
"Sounds interesting." I tell her. "Could you explain to me what you know?"
POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford.
I settle down in a compartment with Hermione and Neville.
"Say Neville, you're a person who's lived in the magical world for most of his life, correct?" Hermione asks him.
"Yeah, it's more or less all I've known." He replies.
"It's always bothered me why wizards generally boycott everything to do with the modern muggle world..." I put in my two cents, looking for his opinion.
"It's probably due to the pure-blood influences in the Ministry and society." Neville says.
"Um, what's a pure-blood?" Hermione questions.
"A pure-blood is someone who claims to have purely magical heritage, claims it makes them more superior than those who aren't of purely magical heritage. They claim to be higher up the food chain of society, and more powerful magically than anyone else. The more zealous kind of them thinks that their status elevates them to some sort of royalty." I explain to her.
"That doesn't seem right... It's sounds preposterous."
"It does, doesn't it? But I didn't write it that way. They believe just having magic makes them superior to everyone else. But that's a load of bullocks." I say.
"Language!" She exclaims.
"Sorry. Say Neville, what's your take on all this?"
"I don't know exactly... There's quite a bit of, what's the word my grandmother uses- ah, I think it was stigma, with being muggleborn or being a half-blood, or simply being in contact with muggles in any way."
"But that seems so stupid!" Hermione replies.
"Is it? These are people who find the muggle world odd, and vice versa as well. There are many differences, but the core similarities are quite big as well. Muggle or Magical, they are still human. And humanity's greatest fear, is fear of that which is unknown." I explain to her.
"So, because the muggles don't have a good enough understanding of the magical world and the citizens of the magical world don't have a good enough understanding of the muggle world, both will have tense relations with each other?"
"Pretty much." I reply. "That's how it works. And that's how the whole pure-blood thing is still running wild."
"That's still a load of bullocks..."
"Language, Hermione!" I laugh, grinning as she glared at me.
"Hello? Um, is it okay if I sit with you guys?"
A red haired boy peeked through the door of the compartment.
"Sure, why not." I say. "What's your name?"
"Ron, Ron Weasley. What's yours?" He asks me.
"Harry, Harry Potter."
"You're Harry Potter?" Neville and Ron gape.
"Didn't I say that already?" I raise an eyebrow.
"You told me your name was Harry Crawford!" Neville shouts.
"It's half my last name. My legal last name is Potter-Crawford, but it's too damn long, and is a hassle to write on everything." I explain.
"Do you really have the-"
"Yes, I have the scar." I lift up my hair to show it, "Why does everyone keep asking that?"
"Well, because you're the Harry Potter! You defeated You-Know-Who!" Ron exclaims.
"I did not defeat him. I probably got very, very lucky. Besides, the place where happened was my Dad's old home, every inch of it was probably warded... And I don't understand why people make me out to be the "hero" who defeated a Dark Lord. I'm no hero, my parents were. They fought him and they died for me. But everyone seems to have forgotten them so they could celebrate Harry Potter..."
Neville, Ron, and Hermione share solemn looks.
"Sorry mate, if I had known-" Ron starts off, but I raise my hand to silence him.
"Don't, just don't... It was in the past, and now it's the present. I've got a big cheque for a future ahead of me, and I intend to cash it in." I smile.
"That's good to hear." Neville smiles back.
There's knocking on the door to the compartment. Ron opens it to reveal the snack trolley.
"Anything from the trolley dears?" The old lady pushing the trolley asks.
"I'm in for a liquorice wand right now..." I reach into my bag, and pull out a pouch. A decently sized mound of galleons dropped onto my hand.
"How much can this fetch me?"
Everyone gapes at me.
"What? This is my daily allowance. Hey Ron, are you okay? You seem a little pale-"
Ron faints.
"... So anyway, how much can this get me?" I ask the lady with a smile.
POV: Reynald Hayes Crawford.
Arianne smiles brightly at me as I gape at her vast knowledge of Ancient Runes.
"And how long have you been studying this?"
"Four years!"
"But a basic mastery takes eight!"
"I'm just that good." She smirks.
Okay. Mental analysis: I have met the probable reincarnation of my wife. Evidence: She looks exactly like her, has every single one of her subconscious mannerisms, has the exact same attitude, and on a more perverted scale, her boobs felt the exact same way Arianne's felt like when she slept on my chest. Damn.
She even has her voice. And I still feel like I'm speaking to a ghost.
"Are you sure you're okay?" She asks me, looking me over.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I try my best to assure her. Don't linger on this Reynald. Don't. It's not going to help with your potential insanity one bit.
"Okay then..." She says, looking down with a sad pout. God damn it, she's so damn cute.
"Thanks for worrying though..." I tell her, rubbing the back of my head sheepishly.
She looks up, smiling brightly with the smile I fell in love with on a train in 1932. The same smile that burned a hole through my chest and warmed my heart with the heat of a thousand suns... Also, it makes me cheesier than nachos, so there's a warning for you. She pulled out a sandwich from a pocket and held it out to me.
"Wanna share?" She asks with a small abashed smile.
"Why not?" I smile back.
"You never told me your last name." She commented as we step off the train with the kids.
"I'll give you three hours to guess."
"What are you, Rumpelstiltskin? Are you going to take my first-born child if I guess wrong?"
"You know that tale?"
"I heard of it." She smiled, began walking, and I followed her at a steady pace, "Besides, when I have kids, I won't let anyone take them from me. Besides, if you had kids too, you wouldn't let anyone take them from you either, right?" She latched onto my right arm. "Escort me to the castle sir?"
"Of course, Ma'am." My smile falters.
We walk to the carriages, and hop into an empty one. I think about her words... God, I feel like shit right now... Renaud...
"I might throw up." I say as the thing starts moving. Hey, these are thestrals here. Still feeling nauseous right now...
Oh crap.
"You get motion sick easily?" She asks.
"... Sure, let's go with that." I lie. I thrust my head out of the window, and let it all loose. Hey, there's the caramel-flavoured jelly bean I ate earlier, the one that tasted very salty and chunky!
It's turning everything brown...
"Oh no..." Arianne murmurs, comforting me. "I got you, I got you- Hey, isn't that a horse droppings flavoured every-flavour bean?"
I turn green.
"BLARF."
POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford.
I stare up at the castle, from my seat in the boat. This place is awesome. This is a school? Really?
... I wonder if they have dungeons... Ones with magical torture interrogation devices like the kind Dad keeps under the floorboards up in the attic... Anyway, this is cool! Hey, is that a squid?
It's huge! A tentacle waves at me from the distance. I wave back, a big grin on my face. Neville just gapes at me.
"You've made friends with the giant squid?"
"So? I don't discriminate." I muse, head swinging left and right to find out how this boat was enchanted to move. Hermione and Ron just look at me, wondering why I was constantly moving.
"You sure you aren't sick Harry?" Hermione asks me.
"Me, sick? No, no, it's going to take a lot more than this to make me sick." I reply.
"What, like making out with the giant squid?"
"Oh shut up, Ron."
The giant man, I believe Hagrid was his name, led us up through the courtyard and into the castle. We waited before this place called the Great Hall.
"Students, students! This way please!" I recognize that voice.
"Hi Aunt Minnie!" I shout from our spot in the crowd.
"Mister Crawford! Please refrain from calling me that inside of school grounds! Here, I'm Professor McGonagall to you!" The aged woman scolds me.
"Yes Professor McGonagall." I reply in a singsong tone.
She opens her mouth to rebuke me but shuts it, wearing a small tolerant smile instead.
"Come, come, let us not keep everyone waiting."
She led us into the huge hall. It was exactly how I thought it would be, an image formed from both what the people of my family have told me about, and the words that were written into books I've read. I'm completely and utterly enchanted by what I see before me. I look at the tables of the four houses.
Gryffindor. Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. Slytherin.
I have no idea at all of what House I'm going to be in. Hey, it's the Sorting Hat! It opens its mouth to sing.
"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
Everyone claps at the ancient hat's song.
"Hannah, Abbott!" Professor McGonagall (I'm still going to call her Aunt Minnie) shouts, and a girl stumbles up to the hat. She's instructed to put the hat on her head. A few seconds later, the hat opens it's mouth again.
"Gryffindor!" The hat heartily shouts. The Gryffindor table erupts in cheers as the girl runs over to them.
Names fly by as I delve into my thoughts. It sorts us based on our characteristics, correct? So right now, I'm analyzing whatever characteristics I may have. As I do, I admit to having numerous glaring flaws in my persona.
I'm not perfect, alright?
"Hermione, Granger!" Hermione walked up nervously to the hat. She puts it on her head, a worried expression on her face.
"Gryffindor!" The hat shouts. She smiles, running over the cheering table.
I won't let it influence my opinion, but I may enjoy being in Gryffindor. I resume my thinking while the line moves forward. Hm... Maybe I should just listen to the hat's opinion... I'm brave, smart, cunning, loyal...
Damn, I don't have a clue where I'm going. I spot Dad flirting with this familiar woman at the staff table... And at the rate he's moving, and at the shade she's blushing, I'll have a professor for a Mom in no time flat...
"Neville Longbottom!" Neville runs up to the stool the hat's put on, and places the hat hesitantly on his head.
"Gryffindor!" A wide smile erupts on Neville's face as he runs for the Gryffindor table, nearly taking the hat with him.
More names fly by. I'm running out of time here!
"Harry Potter... Crawford."
"Crawford?"
"That's Harry Potter! Not Harry Crawford!"
"It's Harry Potter-Crawford, alright!" I shout.
People are puzzled, conversing among each other, as I walk up to the sorting hat, staring at it intently.
"Don't worry boy, I'm not going to eat your brains. I'm just going to worm my way into your head, and glean your thoughts!"
"... Not creepy at all..." I mutter.
"Just put me on, boy. We don't have all day. We're all hungry. Well, I'm not, I don't have a stomach."
I pick the hat up, and put it on my head. I sit on the stool, waiting for an answer. Apparently, it's supposed to send messages through the mind... I feel something caressing the small and pathetic mental shields of occlumency I have up.
It's me. Let me in.
It's the sorting hat. I let the small presence worm it's way in, and I feel it poking around my memories and feelings.
Interesting, interesting... Quite the enigma, aren't you, Harry James Potter-Crawford.
Yes, yes. What now?
Wait, I'm trying to get an assumption of what kind of person you are... Yes, you're quite brave. Beheading an inferi, mano-a-mano? Impressive. Jumping headfirst into some of the most dangerous situations imaginable? And that's your 18th pair of glasses since the last pair got eaten by a dragon? Wow.
It was a Norwegian Ridgeback. It ate them along with my Dad's right boot. Damn thing took hell to kill... And it singed my favourite cloak too... The damn overgrown leather shoe...
Anyway... You're very intelligent... Learning the basics of alchemy without any help at all... Very intelligent. Learning up to the third year skills of magic before attending Hogwarts? Simply amazing, amazing I tell you... I also see you're also cunning, very cunning... Quite the manipulative little sneak, aren't you?
I try.
You're as roguishly charming as your father and adopted father were when they were your age... Quite the mischievous boys as well... I still haven't forgotten Reynald's threat of dunking me in the Black Lake, using me as bait for the giant squid, and then wringing me dry out the Astronomy tower windows. All for putting him in Slytherin.
Wait, what? I thought he was a Gryffindor, or a Hufflepuff, or as farfetched as it is, a Ravenclaw!
Nope. While he had the characteristics for all of the houses, I thought he might have done Slytherin some good with his attitude and outlook. Well, he ended up persona non grata in Slytherin house, well, for the guys anyway. Girls still liked the cheeky bastard. Anyway, he had many friends in other houses, albeit being a Slytherin. He was quite the snake, slithering in and out of situations with a serpent's tongue and/or with quick, sharp poisonous fangs. He's still quite the duellist, and I can see that you are too. And both of you are loyal, oh boy. You've never backed down on your word, and you've never let someone down.
Is that really true...?
Well... You tried your absolute best, alright? That's what counts. Loyal to a fault, loyal to a fault... You see your dad over there? He's loved the same woman, one woman, for all his life. And he won't turn back any time soon.
But I've seen him flirt lots of times! And look, even now, he's flirting!
He can put up a good act, yes, but there's only one woman that I know of that he'll do the real thing. And that still stands, even now.
That doesn't make any sense.
Well, without the proper facts, of course it doesn't make sense. But we're not supposed to be talking about your father's love life, we're supposed to be sorting you somewhere... But where? Just where...
I might enjoy being with my friends.
But that might not do any good for you, and your friends. Enjoyment is nice, but think of your academics. You may do more harm than good to both yourself and your friends.
I'm 11. I'll make it work.
Are you sure? Harry James Potter-Crawford... You're destined to be great. Not that I can tell the future, or whatever crackpot hoo-ha that Sybill can cook up, real or not real. But you are destined for great things. So, young Harry James Potter-
It's Potter-Crawford.
You've got a fair bit of pride too. That accounts for a lot of things, and cements our decision even more-
Get to the point. People are staring. I wiggle in my seat, uncomfortable from all the eyes on me.
Are you monologuing?
So what if I am? It's my head. That of which, I shake my head around to prove my point.
You're quite the peculiar boy, aren't you, Harry James Potter-Crawford... So my final decision is...
Get on with it already!
Alright, alright, you impatient prick! So much like your father... You're going to be in...
Out with it!
"GRYFFINDOR!" The Sorting Hat roars.
The Gryffindor table erupts yet again in a volcano of cheers. I take the hat off with a grin, placing it on the stool. I run to them, and when I jump into a seat, Hermione, Ron and Neville surround me, congratulating me, asking questions, and talking about what happened.
"Attention, students!"
Hey, it's Uncle Albus! He rings a glass with a knife, drawing our attention to him.
"It's a brand new year at Hogwarts, and we have many new faces joining us today. Sadly, Professor Bathsheda Babbling is not here with us today, as she's enjoying an early retirement on the coasts of muggle Bermuda. The new professor taking up her position, ladies and gentleman, please welcome, Miss Arianne, of which her last name I do not know, who's currently too absorbed with the man sitting across from her- Ahem!"
The woman blushing at my Dad finally notices what's going on, and stands up quickly, flushing. She gives a bow, people clapping in response, some people whistling at her appearance and actions, then sits back down, completely engrossed with Dad.
"We also have one other new older face here among our staff, but he isn't necessarily part of our staff... Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Reynald Hayes Crawford, our new... er... Our new... Our new resident, what's the word for it, ah yes. Freeloader. Our new resident freeloader! Reynald! Are you listening! Stop ogling the new professor, and introduce yourself!" He barked.
Dad and the woman, Arianne, blush furiously. The talk runs wildly now.
"Reynald Crawford?"
"The Alchemist of Eternity?"
"Why's he here?"
"Is Harry Potter related some way to him?"
Heads swing from us to the man standing up.
"My name is Reynald Hayes Crawford, I'm an alchemist, a Dark Arts Hunter, an occasional freeloader, and a licensed purveyor of top quality Harry Potter merchandise!"
"DAD!" I shout exasperatedly at him.
"Yes son? I'm too busy smuggling your baby photos to Hogwarts for extra galleons and flirting to a very nice woman to talk to you right now! Leave a message at the tone! Beep!" He shouts back in a singsong tone, resuming his conversation with Arianne.
"DAD!" I yell, ticked off. "YOU MONEY GRUBBING BASTARD!"
"No allowance for two weeks!"
"DAD!"
"Wanna make it two months?"
I grumble quietly in my seat. There's silence. Then there's even more heated conversation. So much gossip is going to happen in the next few days...
POV: Reynald Hayes Crawford.
"Your adoptive son is Harry Potter?" She gapes at me.
I nod.
"And your last name is Crawford? Do you know the person in this ring? Are we related?"
"Yes, my last name is Crawford. I can't tell you if I know her, it's too personal. And no, we are not related." I reply.
Albus walks up to me after giving a warning to the students about something on some third floor corridor. Food appears everywhere magically, and all the students dive in.
"Do you have the package?" He asks me.
"Yep, I do." I reply. "And I'm not going to freeload. I'll earn my living through selling homemade Harry Potter merchandise and by hunting and erasing whatever Dark stuff I can find."
"... But after that, you're going to freeload."
"Pretty much." I whistle.
"Do you have a "challenge" designed for the "package" yet?" He asks me.
"I've got something along the lines of transfigured pseudo-inferi, and giant metal dragons. I should have something up and ready to go when I put the "package" up in the place where it's supposed to be hidden." I reply.
"What are you two talking about?" Arianne asks.
"Nothing, nothing." Albus smiles, eyes twinkling to her as he walks back to his seat.
"How does he-"
"I've been trying to find out for the last 20 years. I want to learn oh, so badly."
"Anyway, what's all this talk about a package?" She asked.
"We're hiding my mentor's legacy here."
"Your mentor's legacy- Oh Merlin, you're hiding the Philosopher's Stone?" She weakly asked.
"SHHH!" Everyone around us hisses at us.
"Sorry, sorry." I apologize for her. "Now, aren't you going to eat?"
"Aren't you?"
"Not hungry." I point out.
"Same here." She replies.
Grumble.
"That wasn't my stomach." I grin at her. She blushes, holding it.
"I'm still not hungry." She lies.
"Get something into your stomach, it's not going to help your health one bit if you don't." I tell her sternly.
"Nuh-uh." She shakes her head.
"I'll force-feed you." I smirk mischievously.
She grumbles. "My arm's a little sore..."
I smile at her, and scoop up a small bit of mashed potatoes with her spoon, dip it in her gravy, and hold it to her mouth.
"Say ah."
She flushes. "Ahhhhh..." I slip it into her mouth, and she eats it. Soon, everything on her plate is gone, and she's a vibrant blushing mess.
"Was that good enough for you?" I ask her.
She smiles softly, nodding.
Everyone around us laughs, chuckles, or giggles.
"Ah, young romance." Albus muses to Minerva.
"When I was their age, I'd keep proper table manners in a public environment!" She commented.
"But are you trying to tell me you never wanted something like that from a handsome man before, Minerva?" Filius asks her.
"Well... Maybe once, at a young, young age..." She muses. For the first time in 18 years, Minerva McGonagall graced us with a short, slight blush. As quickly as it came, it quickly disappeared, and she dove with conformity into her food.
Everyone had heard that. Everyone had seen it.
"What in Merlin's name is going to happen to Hogwarts this year...?" Severus mutters, continuing to eat.
"Hell's gonna freeze over, that's what." I grin at him.
He ignores me. Though I noticed the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth that formed a small lopsided smile... Nah, he's probably twitching in anger.
"S-So, d-do you have a-anything in store for us w-when we go to the third c-corridor tonight?" Quirrell stammers at me.
"I should have it ready by tonight, and you can see it." I reply, resuming a conversation with Arianne.
The students had all but vacated the Great Hall.
"I'll go up ahead and see what I can cook up. I'll call for you guys when I'm done." I tell them. "This is going to take a fair bit of enchanting. I'll take about an hour or two, so enjoy yourselves in my absence."
I leave for that third floor corridor.
"I'm back... You neglected to mention that you had your own traps set up..." I growl at them.
They're sitting around the Hufflepuff table, talking with each other.
"Sorry." Filius smirks. "We got busy."
"Yeah, they all had a huge argument about which table they were going to sit around. The house heads fought with each other, and somehow Miss Sprout came up on top." Arianne said.
The house heads were looking a little ashamed. Well, except for Severus, who kept up his same indifferent expression.
I just laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
"Oh shut up." Severus growls.
"Yeah yeah. Come on. I got it set, and ready to go."
With a flick of his wand, Albus summoned a bunch of flying carpets that whisked us away to the third floor corridor.
"So, what do we have to expect from one such as yourself?" Minerva asks.
"I added an extra room before the potions obstacle, oh, and Severus, you've outdone yourself. Awesome job." I comment.
He allows himself a conceited smile.
"Now, let's get in here, shall we?"
I pull the chess piece shrapnel impaled on my arm and heal it with a discreet wave of my wand.
"Okay, I've nearly been eaten by a giant three headed dog, molested by an overgrown weed, nearly sodomized by rampant flying keys, nearly got my head speared through with a chess piece's staff, and nearly choked to death from a troll's flatulence. Twice today at that. Now, what I have in store is much worse. Much, much worse."
They all share looks of humor, mirth, and in one case, annoyance. I don't think Pomona liked it when I called her prized plant an overgrown weed.
"Through here."I point at the door.
I lead them into the room. It's a big room, reminiscent of a dungeon. Sets of pillars supported the stone ceiling. Standing in the absolute center, is a circle slab of stone, raised about a foot high.
"What are we supposed to do here?" Albus asks.
"I'll show you how the room works. Stand beside the circle, and set up the best protection magic you can around you. I won't need it, since I need to be the one activating the room."
He nods. The staff members group together, and with a collective wave of their wands, a circle of light draws itself around them.
"Alright! Let's do this!" I grin.
Magically, large golden letters appear in the air at the end of the room.
Stand in the center of the circle, Challenger.
"Impressive charm work!" Filius comments, as I follow the words orders.
Young challenger, young challenger, you seek the glory, you seek the treasure. But alas, but alas, you will not have it, until you meet our gracious measure. We have for you a tricky test. Many than one can try it, but one that not many can best. We have but three riddles, only three, you see, but they aren't so simple to answer, oh yes, yessiree. One will test your strength, your survivability. The next will test your endurance, and your mobility. The last will test your courage, lest you reach senility. So we'll give you your first question, sorry if our tone makes you angry, but it's an important one you see. So little challenger, to this challenge, do you agree?
"Agreed."
Challenge accepted.
"What is the point of having riddles? Are you sure they aren't too easy to solve?" Minerva asks.
"Just watch. There's a twist, like you read."
First: From beyond the dead, yes, that's what you read, what's alive yet not alive, very difficult to survive, can thrive where we may only rive, and is a bastard attempt, to revive?
"The a-answer's easy!" Quirrell points out.
"Yes, yes it is." Filius says.
"The answer is inferi, correct?" Albus asks me.
I nod. I turn to the letters floating in the air.
"Inferi!" I answer.
Oh correct, oh correct, you maybe do know best, but alas, but alas... It's time to put you to the test.
"Here comes the good part."
Along the walls of the room, many gates of some sort appear with the sound of grinding stone. The remaining rock sinks into the ground, leaving openings. The sounds of screams and scuttling surround us. And out of the first gate, crawling on all fours is...
An inferi. Ripped to shreds with body muscles and all the gore minus the blood, it crawls towards me growling.
"You made inferi?-!" Minerva shrieks.
Everyone looks in fear from me to the inferi on the ground.
"Nope. They're just transfigured and enchanted mannequins. Not real dead corpses. But with all my experience with them, I've created a very good replica of one." I explain.
Minerva slowly nods at me. "That's some fine transfiguration..." She comments, now looking a little green.
The sounds of scuttling and screaming grow louder.
"This is the hard part."
Out of all the gates, swarm dozens of more inferi.
"Oh my-"
"Stay in the barrier-"
"What are you trying to test?" Severus asks.
"Simple, you read it earlier. This is a test of survivability, while having a clear mind under pressure." I reply.
The inferi draw even closer by the second... Some begin to run at me. I reach into my shoulder bag, a clear thought in my mind of what I want. Shotgun.
And out comes a very familiar shotgun, from World War One and magically maintained and constantly modernized, is a pump action Model 1987. I jam the barrel into a running inferi's head, and pull the trigger.
Bang.
There's a flying mess, and the inferi's body falls to the ground.
"Could use some more shot..." I muse about the custom shells in my gun.
"How are you supposed to pass this test?" Pomona asks.
"Kill them all." I reply, pulling out a short sword and beheading an inferi with an elaborate flourish.
"Then why don't you use magic?" Severus asks.
"This way is cooler, and more fun."
"Typical Gryffindor..." He mutters.
"I wasn't a Gryffindor. I was a Slytherin!"
Everyone gapes, and Severus twitches.
"But you're the poster child for Gryffindor behaviour!" Filius exclaims.
"I take offense to that!" Minerva says, defending her house.
"The damn sorting hat put me there after he didn't know where to put me in the first place! He said I'd do Slytherin some good! And many years later, it spawned two new Dark Lords. Not much of an improvement, eh?" I say as I keep the mass of inferi from ripping me to shreds with a few swings of my sword.
"Just use your magic! There's too many!" Albus shouts.
"I was getting to that!" I put my weapons away, and with a flick of my right arm, my wand snaps from a holster into my hand.
Yew, 9 ½ inches, thestral hair.
"Diffindo Maxima!" With a large sweep of my wand, large swaths of energy cut through the masses of inferi. A second later, they all fell to the ground in gory pieces.
"Good enough to cut through bone." I grin.
"You modified a severing to do that?" Filius gapes.
"It helps to use it sometimes. Though on live targets, it looks a little gross."
They all pale, looking a little green.
Challenge Completed.
"Are you injured!" Arianne cried.
"I'm fine! I'm used to doing this kind of thing!" I reply, giving her a consoling smile.
Though I doubt it consoled her one bit. I look up to the words again.
Second Riddle: The first one dealt with corpses, the next shall deal with flames, what is the thing that feeds on horses, what is the thing that cannot be reined, what can you fly from, but cannot outdo, with not much weaknesses that stop it from feasting on you?
Everyone gulps, knowing exactly what it was.
"Dragons!"
Oh correct, oh correct, you maybe do know best, but alas, but alas... It's time to put you to the test.
The opened gates shut and became walls again. One large gate appeared in the ceiling above the door to the next chamber. A clock appeared where the words were, the hands counting down.
You have but three minutes, three minutes to survive, to prevent what cannot be beaten, from roasting your sorry hide.
Slithering out the gate, flying in midair through magic, was a long, wingless, and fearsome metal dragon.
Run, run, as fast as you can.
It sent a blast of fire at me. I dodge it by rolling to the left. I break into a run from the giant thing. It gives chase, blatantly ignoring everyone in the protective circle.
I shoot off a few curses at it to prove its invulnerability, and continue running. It weaves through the pillars expertly, keeping up with me.
"Come on, you oversized paperweight! I didn't design you to loaf around and look pretty!"
The thing seemed to take offense to that, and it shoots another swath of fire at me.
"To slow!"
It roars, angry. It charges at me, intent on chewing me to bits.
"Confringo!" I sent flying a blasting curse, which hits it in the mouth. It swerves from it's original flight path, and crashes heavily into the wall.
Time up. Challenger, if you're still alive, please stand on the circle, you're still in for quite the ride.
I step on the circle yet again.
"Reynald, your hair's a bit..."
"Singed?"
"Yes, that's the word for it."
Final Riddle.
"SHIT." I remember what I put in here now.
What can show your greatest fears, drive the strong into tears, tear a mind into bits, without a care, only bliss?
"That's easy!"
"Very easy!'
"It's a boggart!" Filius shouts at the letters.
"No, no, please don't!" I plead.
Oh correct, oh correct, you maybe do know best, but alas, but alas... It's time to put you to the test.
"BLOODY HELL." I pale considerably.
I freeze where I stand. No... God no... An opening appears in the floor.
I jump at the protective circle.
"LET ME IN! LET ME IN, DAMN IT!" I beg, pounding on the barrier with my fists.
"What, are you, the great Reynald Crawford, afraid of a simple boggart?" Severus said, snidely.
I lean against the magical wall, staring at the opening in the floor. A small sphere of something, many images of different fears flash through it. It drifts towards me.
"OH MY GOD." I sob.
The boggart takes the shape of a woman in a dress, sobbing over the body of a little boy. Heads fly from the woman inside the circle, to the woman sobbing over the child.
"Renaud..." The woman sobbed. "No..."
The woman looks up from the boy.
"Reynald... How could you..."
"I'm sorry!" I sob.
She stands up, blood now staining her dress. She walks up to me. Oh god... Stay away...
"You let me die Reynald. You let our son die. I thought you loved our son. I thought you loved me." She cried.
"Arianne..." I reach my hand out to touch her. Her hands clench around my throat.
"I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!" She shrieked.
I feel the barrier collapse. I slowly fall to the ground, as if time began to slow. I stare into the bloodshot hazel eyes of my dead wife. My own slowly close, tears cascading down my face...
Then it all goes black.
POV: Harry James Potter-Crawford.
I sat in the Transfiguration classroom with Hermione, Ron and Neville.
"Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, Aunt Min- I mean, Professor McGonagall?"
"Your father's in the infirmary for the next few days, he encountered a rather strong boggart that Riddikulus wouldn't work on." She said.
"What did he see?" I asked her.
"Something rather traumatic." She adopted a worried expression. "He's bedridden, and Professor Arianne is watching over him... They have a lot of explaining to do."
"Okay then." I reply. "What do we have to do today?"
She goes to the front of the classroom, and gives us our objective for this class. Simple stuff, like turning a match into a needle. What I wanna learn is how to turn into an animal, like an Animagus. I pick up my match looking at it.
A quick wave of my wand, and I have a needle.
"Excellent work Mr. Potter! On the first try as well! 10 points to Gryffindor." She says.
Soon, Hermione has somewhat of a needle, it's silver, but still wooden.
"How'd you do that?" She asked me.
"Practice, a lot of practice."
I hold up my needle, looking at it.
"Watch this!" I say rather loudly, catching people's attention. With an elaborate flourish of my wand, I transfigure the needle into a beautiful sword.
"Mr. Potter!" Aunt Minnie exclaims. "What do you intend to do with that?-!"
"Show off?" I say weakly,
She pulls the sword from my grip, inspects it for a second, and then banishes it.
"10 points from Gryffindor for creating such a dangerous thing!"
The Gryffindors in the room groan.
"20 points to Gryffindor for such impeccable transfiguration..." She says after.
Now they cheer.
"That was amazing!" Neville said. "Where'd you learn to do something like that?"
"Places." I smile brightly. Being the best in something feels awesome when you know you can also back it up with the skills to prove it.
I've got quite the year in store for me, don't I? Like the universal saying that exists in both worlds...
So much to do, so little time.
Chapter 2 Complete! Not much to say here.
THOUGH I HAVE ONE REQUEST OF YOU GUYS! WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT FOR HARRY'S ANIMAGUS FORM! POST YOUR REQUEST IN A REVIEW!
So like last time, please review, but I won't beg it from you. I don't want attention, I want criticism. If there's praise alongside that or on its own, then that's very welcome, and thanks! So R/R, enjoy life, read great fiction, and let the creative juices flow. And not only for you lemon writers. Aw well. – EthernalRain