Disclaimer: Anything you recognize – be it character, location, idea or line – belongs to others, I may be playing with them but I make no profit from this.
In particular, there will be lines from J. K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" – especially in the Potions classroom - and data from "Quidditch Through the Ages" by 'Kennilworthy Wisps'.
A/N: Pheew… done at last. Merlin but this chapter has been difficult… Hopefully it is worth the read. Just as a reminder… 'Sky' is Hermione in Harry's body; 'Leia' is Harry in Hermione's body.
A… Switched Chance
9. Getting a few things sorted
Harry woke up so early it had barely stopped being late.
However, it took her over an hour of tossing and turning and grumbling about the bed being in the wrong position before she gave up and resigned herself to getting dressed in the still unfamiliar female uniform.
She padded downstairs in the silent Common Room and wasn't entirely surprised to find Sky already there, pacing.
The boy's green eyes shot up to her, barely visible in the slowly greying light of dawn and the flickering sparks of the fire. Harry smiled: "Morning, Sky."
The other didn't acknowledge her however and his eyes remained troubled.
Harry sighed, picking her way through the squashy armchairs. "Look, I know you're nervous, I am as well, but there is no reason. We've gone over everything a thousand times. We're ready. Besides, nothing too serious is planned for today…" she started soothingly.
"It's not that", interrupted Sky. "Harry…"
"Call me Leia!" hissed Harry alarmed. Really, anyone could be around! What could possibly have Hermione so rattled that he was slipping this badly?
A moment later she got the answer, and it wasn't one she liked.
"Harry, what are we going to do about Sirius?"
Harry felt herself stiffen and go cold.
At length, she answered flatly, her voice horribly monotone: "Nothing."
Sky gasped, outraged. "Nothing?" he repeated incredulously, his eyes wide in disbelief. "What do you mean, nothing?"
Harry closed her eyes, pained.
"Harry, you can't be serious! We can't just ignore that he's locked up in Azkaban…"
"Do we have any choice, Hermione?" she asked, her pained tone unable to hide her guilt and shame.
"Of course we have a choice! What… how could… you can't mean… are you suggesting that we leave him there?"
Harry winced. "I am."
"Harry!"
Sky's stifled cry was as horrified and indignant as Leia's statement had been weary and guilt-ridden. "I can't believe you! I don't believe you!"
Leia raised a pausing hand. "Hermione, think! Just for a minute, think of what it would mean to free him."
"It would spare an innocent man years of pain!" he shouted softly.
Leia collapsed on an armchair, slumping. It's not like she could counter this truth, and she certainly didn't want her Godfather in that Merlin forsaken place any minute more than necessary. Still, she had to point out the consequences, even if she loathed to be thinking along such lines.
"Hermione, how would we go about freeing him?" she asked with tired resignation.
"It's not like it's difficult!" Sky exclaimed in contempt. "Scabbers is right here, we give him up and…"
"And he'd end up in Azkaban instead of… of Sirius", she pointed out, stumbling a little on the loved name. She had the terrible feeling she wasn't going to be able to look his Godfather in the eye ever again, not after making the decision she was making.
Sky stared at him like he was a snake about to strike. "That, I believe, is precisely the point", he said frostily.
"No, Hermione. Because we cannot afford it."
Sky was incredulous. "Are you saying that you don't want your parents' betrayer to go to Azkaban?" he asked harshly.
Leia sprang to her feet so abruptly that Sky recoiled. Her fists were tightly closed and her eyes blazing. "Of course I want him in Azkaban! Of course I want him secured away and punished! And of course I want my Godfather free! Free, Hermione! I want Sirius to have a chance at life, real life, not the existence on the run he had last time! I want him cleared! I want him healthy and whole again! I want him happy! And don't you dare think for even a minute I wouldn't give anything of mine to get him out of that hellhole!"
"But… but you just said…" Sky stammered, confused.
"Think, for bloody pity's sake, you're supposed to be brilliant, so prove it! Think! If we give Pettigrew up to the Aurors, then who will help Voldemort come back?"
"I… I don't know…" said Sky slowly.
"Precisely!"
Green eyes stared at her uncertainly. "He'll come back anyway, you know…"
Leia slumped again, her bout of fury over. "Yes, of course he will. Except that we won't know how. Or when. Or… well, basically, we'd be screwed, because we'd lose the advantage of foreknowledge. The advantage, I might add, we were desperate enough to seek through highly illegal means. And need I remind you that without that advantage, we were losing?"
"But there must be something we can do! Some way to help Sirius and still preserve the timeline!"
"Well if you come up with it, then by all means, do share! I've spent I don't know how many nights since the Switch trying to figure out a way to prove Pettigrew is alive and guilty without ultimately risking hundreds of lives!"
It was Sky's turn to wince.
Harry felt both bad and vindicated. Rightful indignation was all very well and good, but he was acutely aware of just how badly against them the odds were, considering Voldemort's power, ruthlessness and most of all experience. And this wasn't a children's game or school contest. If they lost their advantage, and Voldemort won, people would die. Or worse. It was better that Sky didn't forget this tiny detail!
"Why didn't you tell me?" Sky asked softly after a while.
"Huh?"
The boy gingerly sat next to her on the armchair. "You never said a word… all those plans, and I'd quite forgotten Sirius, and you never mentioned… why didn't you tell me, if you were tormenting yourself so?"
"For one, you never seemed to like Sirius much", edged Harry.
"That doesn't mean I would have dismissed your concerns!" Sky said, quite offended.
Leia sighed. "I…" She swallowed, embarrassed. Her tone became subdued. "I just… I didn't want you to know… that is… I-I didn't want to admit I was considering leaving someone I l-love to suffer for the Greater Good."
The last words were heavy with sarcasm, shame and self-deprecation.
Sky wrapped an arm around her shoulders, speechless. His troubled eyes fixated on the crackling fire.
Neither broke the uneasy silence for a long time. They simply remained there as the greyish light of day became ever clearer.
"There has to be a way. Something we can do to make things right", said Sky at length. "There just has to be."
They shook themselves when others started trickling down to the Common Room, but both were a bit subdued still, even as Percy Weasley, full of enthusiasm and of his own importance, proudly led the first years to the Great Hall for breakfast, completely oblivious to the fact that his inspired historical commentary of every nook and cranny they were passing by was rather wasted on the half-asleep children.
So out of it were they, that Harry found herself sitting next to Ron without even noticing. She mentally winced. Now what?
Thankfully she didn't have time to work herself into a panic.
The Twins plopped down in front of them, awfully perky for an early morning, and started teasing their little brother a bit about the Chudley Cannons' latest debacle, launching off a discussion about Quidditch.
Harry perked up immediately.
A fleeting thought that Hermione shouldn't really know anything much about Quidditch flittered through his head and was promptly dismissed. No way in hell would she be kept from talking Quidditch, no matter what body she was in!
"…it's just that the Dopplebeater Defence requires precision to pull it off right!" was protesting Fred (or was that George?)
"Is it really worth it, just to hit the Bludger with extra power?" she interjected, feigning curiosity. She knew the difficult move, that required both Beaters to hit a Bludger at the same time, resulting in an attack of greater severity, had become a favourite of the Twins in later years, but she remembered the long hours it took them to learn the needed accuracy.
Ron turned surprised eyes to her, even his scrambled eggs momentarily forgotten in favour of Quidditch talk. Nice to know his priorities were straight, sniggered Harry within herself.
"You know Quidditch? I thought you were Muggleborn!"
Leia shrugged gracefully. "I know enough to tell that that move requires far too much concentration to pull off, what if the other Bludger slips by and knocks another player off their broom while the Beaters concentrate on one?"
"Yeah, but if the team is good, then they don't need the Beaters to guard them all the time, sure that's their first duty but it's important that Beaters distract the other team too!" replied Ron zealously.
"Distractions to the opponents don't mean much if they sidetrack your own team too, look what happened with the Tutshill Tornadoes in the last match…"
And just like that, they were happily discussing Quidditch moves and debating teams, precisely as they'd done a thousand times before.
It was as if nothing had changed between them; it was ordinary, it was easy, it was wonderful.
Before he knew it, Harry was smiling and relaxing and smirking over the Tornadoes' worthless Beaters and chatting animatedly and he had his best friend back.
Maybe he'd worried about nothing.
Maybe he could still have the Weasleys despite the Switch, even Ron (he shied away from thoughts of Ginny with, by now, practiced ease).
Maybe it hadn't been his scar after all that had attracted the young redhead – even if he'd never admitted it aloud, that was a doubt that had always secretly nagged him; but now he had no scar, no fame, yet they were fast becoming friends anyway.
Maybe they were just well-suited to each other: the easy way they were goofing off together now was proof enough, wasn't it?
Harry caught Sky's smug glance over the breakfast table. The green orbs seemed to knowingly say: See? He's still Ron. You still love him like a brother. You'll still have fun together, and mad adventures, and lazy afternoons of Quidditch nonsense. Everything will be as it was, and you were being an idiot.
She bristled a little, feeling like crossing her arms pouting and huffing petulantly. But for once it felt good that Hermione had been right all along and besides, she was too busy explaining why Ron's idea of the long goal was not as awesome as the other boy seemed to think it, since shooting from well outside the scoring area almost always meant the Quaffle didn't even reach said area…
It was so normal.
It was so wonderful.
And then Ron had to go and ruin it: "You know, you're not half bad, for a girl."
The git had a pleased, condescending smile on his face as he turned back to his bacon, and had never looked more like Draco Malfoy than in that moment, Harry thought, her good mood devastated.
For a girl.
Being suddenly dowsed with cold water wouldn't have frozen her half as much.
For therein lay the problem she'd managed to forget for all of fifteen minutes.
She didn't have her best friend back after all, because she was a girl, and of course Ron wouldn't wake up to common sense for years yet: Harry knew all too well that the other boy had tolerated Hermione, at first, only because of Harry himself, and homework. It would likely not matter in the least what they did together, Ron wouldn't truly consider her his best friend, ever, because she was a girl.
She jumped to her feet, viciously shoving her hurt deep down with a metaphorical movement mimicked by her hands slamming on the table.
Everybody looked up from their breakfast, conversations tapering off as they craned their neck to see, curious as to what the interruption could be on the very first morning.
"You prejudiced prat!" Leia cried, for once pleased that her voice was so shrill. "For a girl indeed! I'll have you know, you ignorant fool, that girls can be absolutely brilliant at Quidditch! Do I need to point out that the Holyhead Harpies, an all-witches team mind you, are second in the League?" – they were too, in the current year, as Harry well knew since he had delighted in following a Quidditch season that had escaped his notice completely the First Time – "Or that some of the best players ever were females? Glynnis Griffith! Gwendolyn Morgan! Meghan McCormack! Eunice Murray!" – actually the last one had been a true idol for him, the most successful Seeker ever (she'd once petitioned for 'a faster Snitch because this is just too easy'). That resulted in her voice being honestly outraged.
Her passionate defence had attracted attention, in particular from the three Gryffindor Chasers – and as Harry suddenly remembered, Angelina, Alicia and Katie could be a force to be reckoned with even outside the pitch.
Case in point, Angelina was asking in a deadly voice: "Do I have to understand that the redhead there thinks girls can't play Quidditch!"
The Twins, recognizing the signs of danger, were quick to intervene:
"Sure you can…"
"…play Quidditch…"
"…and make us poor blokes…"
"…sigh in envy at your daring brilliance…"
But even they couldn't prevent Ron from being a tactless fool, thought Harry with a mental sigh as the other first year thoughtlessly blurted out: "Well, sure you can, only you're not usually as good as guys, is all!"
Oh, dear. Ron was in for it now…
Leia cautiously moved out of the line of fire, smirking at Fred's pained groan and George's dramatically banging his head on the table, just as the older girls descended on Ron like Furies, while a severely displeased Professor McGonagall, who'd arrived with the schedules just in time to hear him, prevented his escape.
Well, thought Harry fondly, McGonagall had been a Beater, and Captain of the Gryffindor team in her days, and was still a rather obsessed fan. She was bound to correct Ron's misguided ideas…
Which would be a start, even if it couldn't mean the gap the Switch had created between them would be filled as he had, for one wild moment, hoped.
Sky tried to squeeze her hand in sympathy as a rather disgruntled Prefect Jada led them out to the greenhouses behind the castle for their first Herbology class, but Leia didn't want to be comforted.
She'd known it would go like this. She'd even told Sky. It was her own damned fault if she felt so awful right now, she should have remembered to keep her distance, that was all.
So she engaged their Hufflepuff friends in conversation instead, comparing notes on dorms and dreams and last night's treacle tart until dumpy little Professor Sprout called their attention to all the strange plants and fungi they would soon learn to care for.
At least classes should be easy, thought Harry, smiling at Susan when she offered to partner her. What with it being first year stuff…
But of course, nothing could go smooth in his life, could it?
Herbology might have been easy indeed, and History only offered the usual challenge to the ability of keeping their eyes open, but the wanded classes turned out to be a problem.
Her magic was different.
She wasn't sure she could explain the feeling of strangeness properly, but it was there.
She hadn't noticed anything during the summer, but then she hadn't actually used any magic. And perhaps her changed wand should have been an alarm bell…
Now that she was doing some 'foolish wand waving' every day, she could feel that something was… off. Not wrong, but different, very different from what she was used to.
She wondered if Sky felt the same and resolved to ask as soon as they had a minute of peace, but for the moment there was too much going on.
All she could do was coping as best as possible; at least it made it so they didn't have to worry about appearing too advanced. However, she was helplessly starting to panic as she realized the implication of her magic not responding properly to her control.
Transfiguration in particular seemed to be a lost cause.
He'd always waded his way through the class thanks to sheer power: the complex diagrams and detailed schematizations of the processes involved were completely beyond him, but if he had a clear enough picture of what he wanted to obtain, and stubbornly threw his magic into convincing the universe that it should, indeed, contain the transfigured item instead of the original one, he eventually got the desired results.
Now, however, it seemed impossible to go this route, simply because there was not enough magic in her anymore.
What an unsettling feeling that was, feeling the magic draining from her body, leaving her tired like after a long run!
Harry had never experienced anything like that before and it had rattled her badly. So much so that the first time it happened, she worried she might have been cursed, or was possibly coming down with something.
Granted, she still seemed to be able to handle much more than her classmates, if the afternoon practice sessions were anything to go by: only Sky had no trouble keeping up with her; but, she reckoned, that was because they were used to wielding magic a lot more than this, even if their bodies were not.
Still, the problems remained.
Worst of all was the sudden importance that concentration and precision seemed to have acquired.
It no longer took him a while to browbeat the universe into doing his bidding, which had allowed him to rely exclusively on his will being clear and strong enough to override any little deviation or mistake; instead, now every little flick or swish of her wand mattered immensely and immediately, every nuance of tone and pronunciation made a visible difference.
It was disconcerting.
He'd always envisioned his magic like an enormous beast, to which he could sort of tell what he wished and it would get it done: incantations and wand movements were to him like a tamer's tools.
Now, however, magic felt more like a waterfall or perhaps a brook, and the spells were like a delicate set of scales and moving parts powered by that flow: every syllable, every gesture were balanced components of the mechanism that would produce the result, and every slight change could upset its beautiful equilibrium, dissipating the flow in useless rivulets or engaging the wrong gears with unwanted effects.
It was a way of interacting with magic rather alien to Harry's mentality – and it showed in her poor achievements in class.
The first time she tried to turn a matchstick into a needle, her concentration wavered but for an instant, momentarily distracted by the sudden incongruous idea of a butterfly being pinned by the needle she was transfiguring, and it was enough to upset the delicate succession of gears, with the result that the matchstick became a flimsy metal wire that twisted itself into a sort-of-butterfly-shaped half-melted kind of pin.
McGonagall was baffled.
Which was rather unnerving: McGonagall was never puzzled. He distinctly remembered Neville transplanting his own ears on a cactus once and she hadn't batted an eye. That is, she'd yelled a lot, but she hadn't been surprised, and certainly not mystified!
He didn't have much chance to worry about himself though, because Sky too was having troubles, and handling them much worse than her.
The fact that, apparently, the well-known wand movements and precise focusing weren't working at all, and he not only hadn't managed the simple, familiar transfiguration but he'd achieved the rather impressive result of accidentally exploding the matchstick, had him near tears.
Too bad Harry was at a loss as to how to either explain it, or at least, comfort Sky.
Charms, fortunately, was much better: probably because they were starting off with nothing harder than a lumos; though even that had yielded unexpected results – in that Sky had practically blinded everybody in the classroom with a powerful beam of white light, which had him squeaking in shock and Professor Flitwick chuckling about eager children overdoing things; while Leia had found her wand tip changing hue as fast as her mind registered the colours she saw around her, unless she made an effort to concentrate constantly on a specific one.
To their surprise however, Professor Flitwick took it all in stride.
He cheerfully launched into an explanation of the nature of magic and the unique ways it related to the souls and bodies that were in tune with it – a speech that Harry was positive he hadn't made the First Time.
Or maybe he had, but nobody had bothered to pay attention, because even now he could see that most of the class had their eyes glazed over, as if they were listening to Binns.
In all likelihood, only Hermione had been at all interested back then; this time on the other hand, she had Terry's backing, and they both had a summer of debating on the nature of magic, even if only at the most basic level, behind them; and Leia herself had a longer attention span, now, than she'd had back at eleven, not to mention a new curiosity in the topic, spurred both by a greater maturity and by having seen what Dumbledore and Voldemort could achieve.
As a consequence, the initial clarification Flitwick started off with was met with interest and intelligent questions that grew into a lengthy discussion; a debate that maybe involved the rest of the class only marginally, but clearly made the tiny Professor's day, as he became more and more passionate and delighted.
Eventually, the Professor had to conclude the lesson, since the period was over, but sent them off with promises of pertinent books and a set of exercises that should, according to him, teach them how to understand the way magic flowed through their bodies, making it easier to learn spells later on.
If the discussion itself hadn't generated much enthusiasm beyond the three of them, the list of exercises mentioned intrigued and excited every child, especially when Seamus proposed turning it into a competition.
As he pointed out, there were more than enough 'games' to organize 'a real blooming Tournament': changing the intensity of the light, brightening it and dimming it alternatively, then on certain patterns and rhythms, then on a partner's command; changing its colour on purpose, or not changing it through a series of other moves; shooting sparks, more, less, fast, slow, in bursts, continuously, this colour, that one, to a still target, to a moving one…
Really, there were games for every taste. It was just a matter of deciding how to give points and prizes and such: something that Hannah, Parvati and – surprisingly – Kevin had thrown themselves into doing with enthusiasm.
So it was that by Tuesday evening 'Sky's Club', as it had somehow been dubbed after Hermione's proposal on the train (Leia privately blamed Dean), was unanimously dedicated to the 'Best Charms Games'; a relief, since the first, disastrous meeting on Monday had proved beyond doubt that there was no hobby, pastime, interest or pet topic they could all share (as well as getting them banned from the Library for a fortnight, much to Sky's and Terry's dismay).
These 'games', however, they could all enjoy; and by general consensus, Charms was proclaimed the best class ever.
Needless to say though, even the unexpected and rather worrisome difficulties with their magic paled in comparison to the dread inspired by the two classes that the time travellers had true reason to fear.
And if the confrontation with Snape could be postponed until the end of the week, Quirrell was a much closer problem.
On Wednesday morning, Harry stood ramrod straight outside the door of the DADA classroom and wondered if paranoia had caught up with him at last and he'd finally snapped.
He was running through scenarios, cataloguing exit ways and listing possibly useful spells in his mind, wondering how to keep the 'children' safe.
Never before had he gone to class as if he was going into battle, not even with Umbridge, not even with Snape!
Then again, he'd never knowingly gone into a classroom to get a lecture from Voldemort.
His paranoia was ridiculous, yes, but also very justified!
She felt a comforting hand at the small of her back and glanced to her right, meeting Sky's determined eyes.
For the first time since they came back, she was glad to be in Hermione's body: not resigned, happy.
Voldemort was bound to focus on 'Harry Potter' and that left her space to manoeuvre and protect her best friend.
She smiled, and Sky smiled back.
"Aren't you going in?" asked a puzzled Neville from behind them.
They spun and smiled at him. "Yeah, sure."
Of course, they probably should have remembered how poor a teacher Quirrel was: the class was a huge let-down.
If the First Time the classroom smelling strongly of garlic ad the ludicrous tales of Romanian vampires, troublesome zombies and thank-you gifts form African princes had been considered a bit of a joke, now, after his own stellar lessons to the DA and Snape's challenging course, Harry was disgusted with it.
Nevertheless, she was on full alert every second of the useless lecture, tracking Quirrell's every movement with a keenness she could only hope would pass off for interest in the subject.
Nothing untoward happened, thankfully, and she gratefully hastened out of the classroom with Sky at the end of the period.
"Here", she said with a sympathetic look, drawing Sky a little away from Seamus' colourful comments on the professor's turban and the resulting general laughter.
Sky stared at the little phial. "Headache reliever?" he asked doubtfully.
"Nicked it from Percy", Leia confided conspiratorially. "Oh, don't be like that", she added at her best friend's reproachful look, "it's just Percy. He's got a stash of the stuff in his desk, you know, he probably won't even notice it's gone!"
Sky sighed. "He'll notice", he said flatly.
Leia shrugged unconcernedly. "And likely blame the Twins."
"Why are you giving it to me, anyway?"
Leia blinked. "Don't you have a headache?"
Sky frowned. "No."
"Weird…" she trailed off, a bit uncertain. "I remember always having awful headaches after Quirrell's lessons…"
They walked in silence past the portrait of a plump, giggling maid with flowers in her hair that Harry had always loathed.
"Are you sure it wasn't just towards the end of the year?" ventured Sky as they reached the end of the corridor. "You know, after…" He hesitated.
"The Forest Incident", concluded Leia with sudden understanding. "You're right, I didn't think… but yes, it was only after that detention that the pain started."
Sky squeezed her arm. "Thank you for taking care of me", he said shyly, as they caught up with the others. Then he added sternly: "Now go give Percy his potion back!"
Whatever their problems with the curriculum, at any rate, outside the classroom life was good in the first few days.
As he had easily adapted to Ron's snoring and Seamus forgetting his dirty boxers in the shower stalls and Neville's plants cropping up around the dorm, Harry got now quickly used to Lavender filling the bathroom with make-up and beauty care products and needing to borrow space in her roommates' wardrobes for her far too many clothes, and to Parvati scattering her things everywhere and panicking over hair ribbons as part of her morning routine and losing her watch only to find her quills when she was looking for her Herbology book.
The few suggestions she'd made to Percy on the first night paid off nicely.
A collective trip to the Owlery took place right after dinner on Monday, and Hedwig and Archimedes flew off bickering and snapping their beaks at each other, carrying letters for the Grangers, only to return two days later with lengthy, vivacious replies for both Leia and Sky; and if it was a bit disconcerting to be privy to both sets of correspondence, it was also very nice.
The planned guided tour of the main areas of the castle had grown to include all first years with but a little nudge – namely hinting about 'the importance of inter-House cooperation' in Percy's hearing range. The idea had put a star in the Gryffindor Prefect's eyes and he was only too happy to lord 'his' initiative over the other Prefects and harass them into following his directives, as 'primary organizer of the event'.
Thus on Tuesday afternoon after classes the firsties all found themselves gathered in the Great Hall, under the watchful (or bored, or resented) eye of all fifth year Prefects, ready to be shown around and marvel in loud awe at the one hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts and the amazing rooms they led to.
As they chatted and squealed and joked and arranged themselves somewhat, Leia caught sight of Theodore Nott leaning into Pansy Parkinson's ear and whispering something, then withdrawing with a smirk, leaving the girl into the limelight but observing everything with keen attention, piercing eyes riveted on her and Sky.
Leia frowned, perplexed.
Parkinson for her part smirked and jutted her chin out, arrogant and self-assured, then started loudly complaining to her cohort of Slytherin girls, moaning over "this waste of time", because "really, this is nonsense. No wonder it was a Gryffindork who came up with the idea. And a Weasley no less! Well, anybody can see why this is ridiculous… Honestly, someone like them shouldn't be let free to waste the time of important people with activities that have no meaning to proper wizardfolks…"
Leia was glad to see Daphne Greengrass discreetly rolling her eyes. Daphne had distanced herself somewhat from everyone after the Sorting, but Sky hadn't lost hope of drafting her into Sky's Club.
Parkinson, on the other hand, would not be let in if she begged, that much Leia swore to herself. Just what was she doing, anyway, bitching like that? Had Nott put her up to this? What was he playing at?
She cast a quick glance at Malfoy, just in case he was about to take over Gryffindor baiting, which had always been a pastime of his (and to which he was admittedly better than Parkinson); but the pale blond was keeping his mouth surprisingly shut.
"And I can't believe they're forcing us into such a crass activity as a guided tour. I mean, it's rather obvious that we proper wizardfolk don't belong here. It's for Muggleborns, after all", she said in a loud gossiping tone, full of disdain and condescension.
Leia clenched her teeth, uncertain about how to counter the nonsense the spiteful girl was sprouting but knowing she couldn't afford to let it pass. Unfortunately, Sky looked even more ill-equipped to face this than her.
It unexpectedly turned out, however, that neither of them needed to do anything: to their amazement, Justin Finch-Fletchley – bubbly, gullible, buoyant Justin – took it upon himself to step up and face the bint.
"Oh? Really, is that so? A waste of time you say… Well, I'm sure you have your reasons… Tell me, then, and I ask merely out of curiosity, you understand, but I would really like to know, why is it that an extremely useful thing like being shown around the school, which is an evident benefit to students unfamiliar with the place such as us… why is it that you don't appreciate it, Miss… whatever you name is? Unable to keep up?"
He smirked as she choked in her indignation.
"Oh, dear. I understand, it must be hard for you to face your… limitations… and really, I sympathize with you, but I'm sure the Prefects will be kind enough to explain things to you in small words if that's what you need… and your Housemates will surely lead you around to wherever you need to go if you are incapable of learning your way…"
Muffled snickers were coming from the loose ring that had automatically formed around the confrontation.
"Though I must confess it is… disappointing… that one such as yourself should be included in our class, and slow us down so…"
"Slow you down!" shrieked Pansy, but Justin blithely went on as if she wasn't even there.
"…but I suppose we have to be gracious to the less fortunate… noblesse oblige after all…"
Fascinated, Harry watched as the Hufflepuff somehow managed to look down on the pug faced girl, despite being shorter. For the first time he realized that the muggle world had its own Purebloods too.
And why not? The magic supremacists had their equivalent after all, in people like the Dursleys (really, substitute 'mudblood' for 'freak' and 'worthless blood-traitor' for 'unnatural abomination' and any rant of Vernon's could be sprouted by a Death Eater).
Justin's grandmother had been the daughter of a Baronet and Leia and Sky had had the distinct impression, over the summer, that Justin's mother would never ever let it be forgotten. Now Harry had the proof that, even if their friend wasn't inclined to make a fuss about his heritage on a daily basis, Justin clearly could be an obnoxious aristocratic berk if he so chose.
Watching him cut Parkinson down, Harry had the weirdest impression that every single one of Justin's ancestors was looking down on Pansy and her family and she was coming up short in the confrontation. Given the way she stuttered and flushed, she was realizing it too, but the lost look in her eyes also proved that she didn't understand how this was possible.
As if 'being Pureblood' could possibly be the only thing one could feel superior about!
Well, she thought, here's to hoping Justin's attitude, however irritating, will open some eyes to how many kinds of prejudice can be found in the world…
But a subtler thought intruded on her surprised admiration, one that she wasn't entirely proud of. She wasn't needed for this, and it galled. Justin was handling things just fine. She should have been happy, possibly proud of him, definitely not dissatisfied. Yet, her instinctive resistance to trust any other with her task warred with the immense relief of sharing a burden.
Relief won out, in the end.
It was amazing, not to be alone.
Oh, she'd always had Hermione and Ron to be sure, but this… this having a big, well-rounded group of friends, ready to support each other, each with their own strengths, their own roles… it was marvellous.
She didn't need to do everything. Just her own part, and others would do theirs, the way she'd never been able to count on when she was 'Harry Potter, unanimously proclaimed Hero'.
Oh, yes. She was relieved.
Sky murmured softly in her ear: "Impressive, huh?"
Dazed, she could only nod.
Nobody seemed to realize the momentous importance of the revelation she'd just had, not even Sky, which was certainly fortunate.
Instead, the first years all sniggered at Parkinson and chatted away, happily following the Prefects, gushing over doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending; laughing good-naturedly at those who forgot to jump the vanishing step halfway up, despite the warnings; pestering the older students with questions on whether or not it was true that some stairs led somewhere different on a Friday, and whether the caretaker really chained students up and whipped them during detentions; squealing in wonder and calling attention to the way everything seemed to move around a lot, shrieking when they recognized the people in the portraits that were visiting each other and rudely pointing to the coats of armour when they spotted them walk.
All in all, they managed to make a nuisance of themselves all over the castle in a most satisfying way.
Though Leia could have done without the humiliation of crossing paths with the Hufflepuff third years on the Grand Staircase and having 'Lav and Parv' (as they would always be named when in their giggling mood, she vowed) make a big deal of it, or rather, of her and Cedric - and in front of the portrait of Violet, too, so now everybody and their owls would know that she supposedly mooned over the handsome boy… urgh!
Anyway, the tour of the school – in addition to being useful in itself and giving them a reason for their familiarity with the castle – brought the time travellers another advantage: indeed, after admiring their new school, nobody could argue against the absolute necessity of further, personal explorations, thus providing Leia and Sky with a number of scattered occasions and opportunities to casually slip away by themselves (mainly thanks to Harry's amazing knowledge of the shortcuts and passages of the castle).
It became a bit of a joke, for the rest of Sky's Club, the fact that the two of them were forever 'falling through a tapestry' or 'checking out behind a statue' or 'trying a different turn': the other kids quickly came to expect their merry "You wouldn't believe what we've found!" right after yet another brief disappearance.
These handfuls of moments by themselves did wonders for their nerves, because they allowed them to reassure each other, be themselves if only for a minute, hash out their plans and keep track of the myriad of little things where mistakes could hide and nest.
Sky, bless her methodical researcher's heart, had made a list – colour coded by importance, of course, and cleverly disguised as 'Ten Steps to Magically Quicken your Morning Routine', which Leia had learned anyway since she particularly appreciated any help with getting ready now that she was confronted with the problem that she couldn't afford a scruffy appearance anymore – that they could consult every morning to refresh their memory about the 'ongoing plans' or the 'things on the backburner', so as to be ready in case an occasion rose to push them forward.
After all, if the Big Plots, as Leia jokingly called them, took up the majority of their time and effort, along with whatever day-to-day minor crisis were thrown at them, they nevertheless had a number of long-term, not-essential-but-would-be-nice-to-manage little projects.
Cultivating a reputation for eccentric/advanced reading, for instance, was one such long term plan: it was crucial both to give them an excuse if they slipped about something they weren't supposed to know, and - more importantly - to cover for the research into Horcruxes and Artefacts of the Founders they desperately needed to start, and soon (yet another reason for Sky to be furious at being banned from the Library because of 'those noisy morons').
But their various goals also included promoting inter-house unity, learning to play gobstones (Sky'd always wanted to), fighting prejudice, figuring out a way to go flying without rousing suspicion (Leia didn't think she could live without it), helping their classmates learn to defend themselves in spite of Quirrell's poor teaching, retaining the friendship with Hagrid, keeping an eye on the political scene… and promoting House Elf Liberation, because Hermione was Hermione no matter how she looked.
With this last point, however, Harry wanted nothing to do and had made it abundantly clear to her huffing friend.
That didn't mean she herself didn't have her own pet project, one that involved a certain supernatural nuisance… and she got a chance to pursue it that very Thursday…
"Poltergeist!"
Terry's delighted shout resonated from around the next corner.
Leia, who'd been lagging behind, promptly ran to the other boy. "Where, where?"
She stopped short right before slamming into Terry's back and took in the frozen tableau before her.
Peeves was, indeed, hovering at the top of a staircase, what looked like water balloons lifted over his head. He'd apparently been targeting a group of second year Ravenclaws, who looked half-wet and rather scared as they attempted to climb on the floor.
Nev and Sky were scrambling out of the way, glancing nervously at Terry: not surprisingly, as the boy had his potentially lethal tweezers out already, mad scientist attitude shining from his every pore.
Leia chuckled to herself. Her spur of the moment prank was growing into something truly interesting. Craziness was bound to ensue!
Her giggle seemed to shock Peeves out of his immobility: the Poltergeist let out a terrified shriek and zoomed away at top speed, though he didn't waste the opportunity of dropping all the remaining water balloons on the second years' heads anyway. His echoing screeches of "Mad, I tell you! Insane!" soon died away in the lower floor's corridors.
Terry and Leia commented in unison. "Aww…!"
Sky shook his head exasperatedly. "Peeves is right. You're right insane, the both of you!"
Leia sniffed. "Just you wait. We've got seven years here… we'll catch him yet!"
"Too right we will!" shouted Terry, striking a pose.
The other first years shrugged the episode off with a few chuckles and resumed their walk to McGonagall's class, unconcerned – or was that resigned?
The second years, on the other hand, were staring at them in horrified fascination, all the while dripping slowly on the stairs.
What kind of ridiculous tale will the gossip mill spill about this? wondered Harry. It was bound to be blown out of proportion by dinnertime…
Or maybe not, as Sky very obligingly provided some other fodder for rumour when he gently addressed the shocked, wet Ravens.
"Would you like me to dry you off? I've just learned the Hot Air Charm…"
All eyes snapped to him.
Leia laughed silently as she watched their bewilderment morph into indignant surprise and then, quickly, eagerness: "You have?", "Already?", "But that's O.W.L. Level!", "Which book was it in?", "Can you teach us?"
Ravenclaws will be Ravenclaws…
Yes, all in all, the first few days at Hogwarts were going by even better than the First Time!
Hermione drew a deep breath and exhaled it explosively. At last, the dreaded Friday was here.
He peered in the bathroom mirror, staring intently into Harry's green eyes, trying to somehow find her soul in them. It had become a sort of daily routine, but as usual, she could not recognize herself in the emerald orbs. It baffled her that Harry seemed to be adapting so well to her life, when she still felt so completely out of sorts, even when she was under watchful scrutiny and had to keep up appearances.
If nothing else, however, she found unyielding determination in those eyes. Good. She was going to need it today.
With a small sigh, Sky abandoned the mirror and quickly finished his ablutions, mentally preparing himself to be 'Harry Potter' for another day. A day that, unfortunately, was going to include a very cruel, very dangerous and very narrow-minded Potion master…
At least, he thought, with Snape's class looming on the day's horizon, he would be less prone to noticing the awfully irritating attitude of his schoolmates.
For the last few days, whispers had followed him from the moment he left the dormitory, almost continuously. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at 'Harry Potter', or doubled back to pass 'the Boy-Who-Lived' in the corridors again, staring. Murmurs of "Did you see his face?", "Did you see his scar?", "There, look" haunted him.
He'd been wracking his brain to understand how on earth Harry could have coped with it. It was creepy.
Unlike Harry though, Sky had a group of great friends who'd picked up quickly on his uneasiness and everybody's nosiness and had taken to shield him by keeping him in the middle of the group whenever they moved and scowling ferociously to the busybodies.
Even now, as they made their way to the dreaded dungeon where Potions lessons took place, Sky was surrounded on all sides by his protective friends, Leia's arm discreetly bumping his every now and then to show her support.
It comforted him somewhat, but it couldn't quench his nervousness. They had come up with the plan together, but like it or not, most of it rested on him.
He ignored easily the cold and the creepy pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls that were unnerving his classmates and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the unenviable task of playing 'Harry Potter' in Snape's class.
All too soon, the hated voice paused the roll call, saying softly: "Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity."
Sky bit the inside of his lip hard. Despite being a frequent target of that man's caustic remarks, as Hermione she'd never felt such weight of loathing poured on her. It was a miracle Harry had shown up to any Potion lesson after the first at all!
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands and he barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Morons.
Snape finished calling the names and when he looked up at the class, Sky shivered at the coldness and emptiness of his black eyes. The eyes of a murderer, he thought grimly.
He effortlessly ignored the introductory speech, falling instead into the regular breathing pattern that would help his concentration for the plan. Everything hinged on his being perfectly relaxed and clear-minded.
But he could do it, he knew he could.
He might never have studied Occlumency, he might have no idea how to defend his thoughts and memories, but between Harry's somewhat jumbled instructions and his own attempts at meditation, Sky knew he was now able to detect when someone was attacking his mind, and that was all they needed.
Mercifully, Leia had been able to help confirming Hermione's skill (being useless at Occlumency didn't prevent Harry from having a real talent at his opposite) so he was less terrified than he might have been otherwise.
Suddenly Snape's hated voice caught Sky's attention, crackling in the heavy silence like a whip: "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Sky bit his lip to refrain from smiling when all the Gryffindors raised their hand, momentarily surprising the supposedly imperturbable Potion master. The impromptu 'Potions review' he'd bullied them into last night was paying off.
Then he took a deep breath and raised his head to meet the dark tunnels of Snape's eyes, baiting the man. He was sure he wouldn't be able to help himself.
He started to say: "The Draught of Living-" and he felt it.
A Legilimency probe – light, to be sure, barely scratching the surface, but it was enough, it had to be.
He screamed and flung himself backward, falling heavily to the stone floor, his hands clutched to his head as if he was trying to stifle unbearable pain.
Here came the most delicate phase of the whole plan, the moment when they needed to perform in such a flawless way as to twist everybody around their little fingers, fooling a wondrously observant spy, outmanoeuvring a master of manipulation, outsmarting the ultimate Slytherin.
Sky had started well enough and likely caught him off guard, but the Potions master was used to react instantly to unexpected twists: Snape's lips were already curled into a sneer, no doubt on the verge of mocking 'Potter' mercilessly and cover his own back by dismissing the incident as a pathetic bid for attention.
They couldn't afford that! Leia needed to intervene now…
But the cry that derailed the Potions master's attempt at defusing the situation came from the Slytherin half of the room.
"How could you; you, you… you monster!" Daphne Greengrass was standing in appalled astonishments, her hair loose, flailing around her in her agitation, a look of utter horror on her face.
"Miss Greengrass, if you think you can insult a teacher with impunity…"
She recoiled from him, taking a step back in obvious fear. "You mind raped him!" she shouted hysterically.
Numerous horrified gasps came from every Pureblood child in the room. Apparently, they all knew and feared such a thing. "I recognize the signs! That, that woman did it to Marius! You monster, how could you!"
Her voice had risen to new heights and Sky, still simulating painful gasps while getting to his knees on the floor with the help of Lavender and Neville, saw the worried and displeased crease on Snape's forehead.
The man was clearly reaching the conclusion that he needed to do some immediate damage control, for he swept his long black cloak away and raised his wand to Daphne – to do what, exactly, Hermione didn't know, but he'd been an idiot to underestimate them, even if to his eyes they were just a bunch of untrained brats.
The moment Snape made his move, Leia let loose an Expelliarmus of such force that it not only wrenched the wand from his potions stained fingers, but knocked him against the nearest desk, where he caught himself from his sudden staggering.
Sky shot a brief, surprised look at the girl. With the difficulties they'd both been having with their magic, he hadn't thought she would really risk such a course of action, even if she'd said she would.
With worry, Sky saw that Leia was ghostly pale and swaying in place, even as she kept her wand trained on their enemy. She must have put everything she had in that spell. He didn't have time to fret, though, Snape was already reacting.
The gaze he turned on the girl was burning with such disgust Sky had to repress a whimper, but Terry was a quick study and he cast the exact same spell from the man's other side, mimicking Leia perfectly, though unfortunately, it didn't seem to do much except distract him.
That however seemed to be a signal, and every Gryffindor's wand, along with Daphne's, fired something at the Professor, hitting him again and again until he finally collapsed, much as he had in the Shrieking Shack so long ago, three years from now.
In the panting silence that followed, Draco Malfoy's shriek rang louder than ever: "What did you do! How dare you attack our Head of House! You fools! You attacked a professor- just you wait, you'll be expelled for sure!"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron's bellow was just as loud. "You worthless piece of shit, he was the one who attacked Harry!"
"He did no such thing! Potter must be faking it! You are just a bunch of blood-traitors! This is a plot against Professor Snape!"
"It's a plot against Harry! Everybody knows Snape was with You-Know-Who, my dad said so! I bet he's waited for years for the chance to kill the Boy-Who-Lived!"
Dismissing the row to the back of his mind as neither new nor important, Sky focused again on his best friend. Leia was still very pale and her breathing laboured. The Disarming Charm might have been Harry's favourite, but it had clearly taken a lot out of her. They needed to figure out what was going on with their magic as soon as possible.
But it was more urgent to get Leia to the Hospital Wing, and even more urgent to push the plan forward. Especially since their classmates were starting to panic.
Lavender was wringing her hands uselessly. "What do we do? What do we do? Oh, no, oh, no, we're in so much trouble…"
Daphne was suddenly beside Sky. "What he did to you is… is… vile! Despicable! We need to get you some help…"
"Who's going to believe us, though?" asked Seamus practically. "Not the teachers, I don't think, they'll just harp at us for knocking him out!"
Half the Slytherins seemed to be in shock, while the others were lending support to Malfoy in his screaming match; Ron was doing a great job keeping them distracted, anyway, and Parvati was helping him - Sky registered at the edge of his mind that she seemed to know Parkinson quite well, given how personal the insults flying were.
Leia's faint voice cut through the chaos, commanding attention despite being low. "Susan…" she took a deep, trembling breath, then seemed to steel herself. "Susan's Aunt, she's in law enforcement, right? She can probably help us…"
Everybody agreed instantly, evidently relieved to have a plan of action and not too keen on looking at it too closely. Sky stifled a smile. Amelia Bones was the only adult they could hope to do the right thing in regards to Snape, not even Dumbledore could get around her sense of fairness.
Leia was swaying dangerously, though, just how much had she poured into her spell? Sky shook his head, no matter. He could take over and give her a chance to rest.
"Right, then" he snapped decisively, "Ron and Parvati are keeping the Slytherin occupied so we don't have to worry about them for now. Terry, stand guard over Snape, tie him up or something if you can, don't let them help him, if he can tamper with our mind, he can do it to them as well."
Daphne stifled a sob, likely thinking that the man was her Head of House and had access to a quarter of the children of the school at every time. She still looked terrified. Whoever Marius was, it was clear that seeing him attacked had made a lasting impression on the girl.
Terry looked about to faint: "Tamper with… you think… you think he can?"
"He can", confirmed Daphne with a dark gaze. "Legilimency can modify your memories, change your mind about something, convince you to do things… there's no knowing…"
"But how? How?" demanded Lavender, her tone just this side of hysterical.
Sky cut her off: "Lavender, run to the Hospital Wing, ask Madame Pomfrey to come see us wherever Professor Sprout is…"
"She's probably in Greenhouse Three, I heard the second years talking about it at breakfast", interjected Neville helpfully, "and the Hufflepuffs should be in Charms right now, if you want Susan."
Sky nodded in thanks. "Good, then help me up, you, me and Leia are going straight to the Charms class and Daphne, could you please fetch Professor Sprout and get her to come as well?"
Daphne nodded, still visibly upset. "Right away!"
She sprinted out the door and Lavender followed a moment later.
Sky met Leia's grim and tired eyes.
Part one had gone perfectly. Now for part two.
Of course, the adults weren't very helpful. The tale was, after all, rather farfetched, no matter that it was built on a nugget of truth.
Nevertheless, between Sky and Leia's ragged appearance, the tall tales the other Gryffindors were spinning and Daphne's hysterical ramblings, all the first years were too agitated to settle and many a horror story was being circulated about what Snape had supposedly done in his past. So, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick decided that the only way to calm the children down would be to actually call Madam Bones and have her investigate the matter properly. Certainly such a course of action would be much better than uncontrolled rumours.
Flitwick went to assist and secure Professor Snape at the same time, waiting for the Aurors, while Sprout supervised Susan as she floo called her aunt; Sky and Leia were hurried away to the Hospital Wing, where they found Ron, Parvati, Terry and a bunch of the Slytherins, all sporting weird spots, barnacles and the likes - the effects of tempers running high in a magical school.
There they were joined very soon by the Headmaster, who kindly but insistently demanded to know the whole truth and grew more and more concerned as they spurred their tales, both careful not to look him in the eyes at any time.
Then Madam Bones showed up, a broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair, with a monocle and a forbidding look that all the same couldn't disguise her resemblance to the more cheerful Susan.
With her were two wizards in Auror robes and another, unremarkable one that Sky dismissed as a secretary of sorts.
Sky observed Madame Bones as she started talking to the Headmaster and the Mediwitch and took deep breaths to clear his mind and steel himself for the interrogation he knew was coming.
Unexpectedly, he felt a slight probe to his mind again. Instinctively, he screamed and clutched his forehead and the terror at the idea of being discovered made it convincing. What was going on? Who would dare?
"Please calm down, you are safe", came a hurried, soothing voice and Sky whipped his head around to watch at the non-descript wizard that had accompanied Susan's aunt.
"What? What's happened? What did you do? Sky, are you okay?" came Leia's frantic cries. The girl was struggling with the bedcovers in her attempt to get up and help her friend.
"Everything is alright, I promise", said the strange wizard again, patiently.
"It is not alright if my friend is screaming!" shouted Leia indignantly.
Sky smiled a little. Harry would never change.
The wizard was both amused and apologetic. "I assure you, it won't happen again. It was my fault, I'm afraid, and I promise not to do it again."
"Do what, exactly?" asked Sky quietly, though he had his suspicions. He must have been tested.
Sure enough, Madame Bones asked briskly: "It is true, then?"
"Yes, he is a natural. I was very discreet, but he sensed me the moment I touched his mind, and it seemed to cause him pain, for which I apologize" he said turning to Sky, who nodded a little uncertain.
"You attacked Sky?" shouted Leia incredulously.
"Please, Miss… huh…"
"Granger", supplied Madame Pomfrey quietly.
"Miss Granger, you must understand. The accusation moved to Severus Snape is extremely serious, and likely to get him sentenced to Azkaban if proven true."
"Azkaban? What…?" Sky asked feebly, in an attempt to divert attention from Leia and keep their cover of ignorant Muggleborns.
"It is the wizarding prison, my dear boy, an awful place of suffering that no one deserves, not if their alleged crimes aren't proved well beyond any shadows of doubt", said Dumbledore gravely. Sky felt a sudden rage and knew Leia was thinking along the same lines: what about Sirius, then?
"Surely you don't believe…" continued the old Professor, but he was brusquely interrupted.
"I believe that man belongs in Azkaban, Headmaster, without a doubt. But", and here he turned to the two children, "we had to be sure, which is why I came along with Madame Bones to test your claim."
"Test?" asked Leia faintly. Sky just nodded pensively. He had guessed as much.
"I am Truthseeker, and I work for the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic", he explained lightly.
Sky and Leia's eyes went huge. An Unspeakable? They'd fooled an Unspeakable?
"I came with the purpose to test Mr. Potter's claim of having detected an illegal and dangerous mind probe from his Potions professor. I can now confirm that this claim is founded, seeing as he was able to detect mine", Truthseeker said in a clipped, official tone. Then he relented and finished, speaking directly to 'Harry': "I apologize for the necessity of causing you pain, and I assure you it will never happen again."
Sky nodded dumbly.
"Also", Truthseeker turned to Madame Bones, "I could detect no shields or other defences. This boy is completely untrained; though it might be wise to correct that. As it is, it was mere chance that he felt the invasion. Or a miracle, perhaps. That a teacher would harm a child so…" he trailed off, not bothering to hide his disgust.
Madam Bones' expression was thunderous. "This implies the question of whether Snape has done this to others and they simply couldn't know."
The Unspeakable nodded grimly.
"Now, now, I am sure this is all just a misunderstanding…" interjected Dumbledore hopefully. Sky noticed how worried he looked, though. He hoped the Headmaster was reconsidering his trust in Snape. A little caution might go a long way to keep their Headmaster alive!
Madam Bones rounded on the aged wizard like a Fury. "Misunderstanding! Whatever the trial will decide in regards to this Snape character's involvement, the fact remains that a child of eleven was mind raped in one of your classes! Do not hope to wriggle out of this, Dumbledore! I will hold you personally responsible for this! Why, I'm of half a mind to take my niece safely home this very moment!"
Dumbledore's eyes widened in alarm and he hastened to reassure the formidable woman about Hogwarts being absolutely safe. Sky ignored Leia's quiet snort and relaxed back on the pillows, exhausted and dazed.
Well, they had done what they could, and it had gone better than could be expected. He just hoped the interest the Unspeakables were taking in him didn't cause problems…
Snape was taken into Auror custody and left the castle under guard right on time for the end of lunch rush, so that just about every student was there to gawk at him in the Entrance Hall.
After that, rumours flew like wild bugs everywhere.
Sky was stared at even more, ludicrous stories about his 'powers' cropping up with no foundation to build them on at all, not helped in the least by the idiotic bragging of his dorm mates, who seemed to bask in the reflected glory, much to his and Harry's disgust.
Leia, too, got her share of unwelcome attention, as the wild story about her 'taking down the greasy bat in a duel' made the rounds. She could protest all she wanted that nothing could be further than the truth – she wouldn't last five seconds duelling Snape! – the story was too good to hope it wouldn't go down in Hogwarts' unofficial history. Besides, hushed gossip about her 'scaring Peeves!' were finally coming up in conversations as well and they didn't help her reputation any.
The Weasley Twins got detention for daring to thank the two of them in the middle of the Great Hall, bowing exaggeratedly and loudly proclaiming them 'the Liberators of the Hogwarts Dungeons'. Sky wondered if they would ever escape the ridiculous title, or if the absurd tendency to hyphens that characterized the wizarding world would mangle it even further.
Echoes of the unpleasant incident were ricocheting through the British wizarding world, firing up an indignant debate that threatened to spill abroad as well. The story was featuring prominently in the Daily Prophet and articles more or less pertinent appeared on everything published, from serious, specialized magazines like HealingDaily and Mediwizardry Team Magazine to tabloids like Rumours! and Witch Weekly.
Hermione had to admire some of teachers' professionalism. Despite the uproar, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout were doing everything in their power to keep the school going smoothly and the children focused on their classes and following their usual routine.
They weren't having much luck, but the attempt was commendable.
Dumbledore was seldom at the school, busy as he was with his attempt to smooth things over and with the demamds for explanations coming both from the Ministry and from the Board of Governors.
He had attempted to approach Sky several times but Hermione had remained cautious and showed himself distrusting – which was a perfectly understandable reaction, even if it frustrated the old Headmaster to no end.
Leia and Sky felt a bit bad in causing such troubles for a man they admired greatly, but since they were doing it mostly for him, they stayed strong in their resolution of keeping Dumbledore at a distance and forcing him to open his eyes to Snape's duplicity.
Even had Sky given in, however, and withdrawn his accusations, there would have been no sweeping the fact under a rug, not with Madam Bones going public with her opinions and the results of the investigation, not to mention the Greengrasses threatening to take their daughter to Beauxbatons, backed by several other panicked families.
Because of the frenzy the incident had spurred and the delicate political nature of the situation (involving not only a child, but this child, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, etc.) the Minister in his infinite wisdom pushed for throwing the culprit in Azkaban without further ado, to the acclamation of most of the wizarding world.
Leia and Sky grimaced in disgust, but such was their world; the only redeeming grace was that Dumbledore used his influence in the Wizengamot to stop the blatant miscarriage of justice, pressing instead simply for an immediate trial. And if it left a bitter aftertaste in their mouth that he could do so for a Death Eater when he hadn't bothered for Sirius, it nonetheless relieved them that Snape was, indeed, getting a proper trial.
So it was that no more than a week after that fateful Friday, news reached Hogwarts about its consequences.
Leia methodically blasted pumpkin after pumpkin to smithereens, continually conjuring up another, identical one only to smash it or blow it up immediately.
Hermione just watched her from the armchair he'd turned a dusty stool into, vaguely wondering why pumpkins? Probably because they were easy, he guessed.
He knew better than to try and stop his friend; besides, there was nothing wrong in venting. No-one would come looking for them in this out of the way, abandoned classroom and if they did, they'd trip his alarm perimeter in time for them to put their masks back on.
He contemplated joining Leia with a few curses of his own, but he felt more tired than in a destructive mood.
Eventually, Leia wound down and didn't replace the destroyed squashes anymore.
For a few, long moments she just stood there facing the wall, her breath coming in harsh pants. Then she dejectedly cleaned up all traces of pumpkins splattered around (it took her several tries, which calmed her down further) and turned to Sky.
Hermione obligingly transfigured another armchair for her to sink on, ignoring the fact that it came out rather lumpy and discoloured.
Silence stretched between them and Hermione wondered how to best approach the subject they needed to discuss.
In the end, though, it was Leia who said: "I suppose, short of telling Dumbledore the entire truth, this is the best we can get."
Hermione leaned back in the armchair contemplating.
Dumbledore had gone all out to protect his would-be murderer and there wasn't really much they could do against him.
She scowled. She'd never really realized just how much power the old man wielded. It was positively frightening, even if it was Dumbledore.
Still… they had achieved some results at least.
Snape was on probation.
Professor Aurora Sinistra had taken over as Head of Slytherin House. She was a skilled Astronomer, though not very passionate about the subject she taught, and generally considered serious and strict. That was about all Sky and Leia could put together about her from their memories. It made her a much better option than Snape, anyway.
Furthermore, a Supervisor had been nominated by the Guild of Potioneers and he would attend all of Snape's classes to insure his professionalism.
That had caused quite a stir.
The title of 'potioneer' was given to every witch or wizard who made potions for a living: professional brewers, potions inventors and researchers, potions teachers at a wizarding school, private tutors, private healers... Very few of the 'potioneers' were Masters however.
And while the Guild kept Apprentices, Journeymen and 'Lesser Potioneers' under strict control, once a brewer achieved the status of Master they could virtually do anything and the Guild would turn a blind eye.
They had turned a blind eye the First Time.
But Madam Bones wasn't the only parent or guardian appalled at Snape's actions: every Pureblood had rebelled, flooding both the Headmaster and the Ministry with panicked Howlers. Sky cynically speculated that the idea of someone rummaging in their children's minds and finding out secrets that were none of their business must be frightening even to the most callous of Dark Families.
On top of that, Leia had managed to mention the idea of writing home before the Headmaster could enforce a lockdown of the Owlery, so their entire group had informed their families timely.
The muggleborns' parents being scared and appalled had added to the confusion tremendously, mainly thanks to the connections that had been formed over the summer. David had written to Leia that he and Julia had maintained the acquaintance with all of their friends' parents and, with the help of Lavender's grandmother, had started to organize a sort of 'support group' for muggle parents of Hogwarts children. The initiative seemed to be having some success, even so soon after its starting.
We were going to wait until Christmas holidays to explain our ideas and what we're doing to be more present in your life, was in one of his letters, but recent events make me think it's best if you know all, so that you can trust some of the other parents if, for any reason, you can't come to us…
And also: If we can't trust that school to keep our children safe then we must find a way to do it ourselves, and belonging to a different world will not stop us if we work together…
Sky was amazed at this turn of things and waited avidly to see where it would lead.
For the moment, her parents and their friends had managed to make their displeasure known like no muggle had been able to before, simply by buying Howlers from a very accommodating muggleborn employee of the Owl Post Office in London, who cast the spell for them, allowing their letter to state very loudly and in no uncertain terms what they thought of the esteemed Headmaster and of the Ministry of Morons.
It had shocked a good deal of the complacent wizardfolk and a deluge of alarmed articles on how 'even Muggles were disgusted with the perpetrators of such horrors' and 'the honour of wizardry was at stake' flooded the papers.
On the whole, the 'unpleasant incident' could not be ignored by anyone and The Guild, embarrassed by the bad light it threw them in, had decided to interfere.
In order to avoid a dangerous precedent that would have had every other Potion Master up in arms before they got investigated too much themselves, however, they had dug up an almost forgotten little rule in their Statute that didn't allow a Potion Master to practice other forms of magic without another Mastery or explicit permission. It was a rule everybody ignored as a matter of course, because it was simply ridiculous, but it allowed them to jump at the technicality of Snape practicing Mind Magic when he was not, in fact, qualified for it as an excuse to interfere, thus saving face with the rest of the wizarding world without upsetting the status quo.
So now Snape's lessons would be reviewed by another Potion Master. Sky snorted. The Supervisor would likely be kept under close scrutiny to avoid them turning a blind eye; it would take them less than a class period to be forced to intervene if Snape stayed true to his teaching methods!
Wonder what will come of it... who knows, we might end up actually learning something… we sure could use more Aurors and Healers in the future…
Another, even better result of their plan came from Madam Bones, whose worry for Susan pushed into commissioning and delivering with record speed a special ring, able to detect mind probes.
It couldn't shield the thoughts, but if the mind was touched at all, the ring would glow bright red and a screeching alarm would start off.
Madam Bones had apologized profusely for being unable to provide them for everybody else, since she couldn't afford it; Sky had only waited for Leia's reassuring push before volunteering 'Harry Potter's' vault.
Leia was ecstatic and told Sky time and again that it was money well spent. More than!
Besides, 'Harry Potter' had got a lot of good publicity for that and as a consequence many 'upstanding members of society' had fought for the privilege of sharing the expenses (and making the paper report their generosity on a cause that had everybody's favour right this minute).
Sky had taken meticulous note of the Crafter's name and address: anyone able to create such useful magical items in such a short time and big quantity was someone worth knowing and keeping a civil relationship with. You never know when it might be of use.
What truly mattered was that they had some relief now from the constant fear of a mind probe exposing them.
Moreover, Daphne had come through with books on Occlumency from her family's library. As Sky soon found out, he'd been correct in thinking there was no such thing as a book on Occlumency, but diaries, work journals and grimoires kept in the families insured that even this kind of esoteric knowledge didn't go lost.
Apparently her father had been scared enough to want her prepared sooner rather than later (she would have been taught, normally, after she gained her O.W.L.s, she informed them.)
Daphne's information practically guaranteed that they would all become Occlumens, even if by the looks of it, it would take them years.
Hermione had a feeling that sharing the information with the Club had been Daphne's own idea though and that it would likely not be approved of by her family. It was rather difficult to understand where the girl stood. She was making her way in Slytherin with the cold ruthlessness that had gained her her nickname the First Time, viciously rebuffing any attempt at including her in this group or that: she was no supporter, but set herself up as a powerful loner. Yet she came back to the group every few days, seemingly craving their companionship, help with study, whatever, only to grow distant again, and then come back once more. It was bewildering.
On another matter, Dumbledore had lost a lot of clout defending a guilty man, but not nearly enough to have them worried about the future. He hadn't lost any real power, which was both relieving and daunting. Anyway, he would have to stay on his best behaviour for a while; but the two knew they could still count on him to protect the Wizarding World at large should a crisis arise… like Quirrell's 'guest' trying and taking advantage of the uproar to advance his own agenda…
As Leia so aptly put it, it was the best they could get.
For now.
A/N 2: About Snape. To all those who wish to rake me over the coals for 'mistreating poor Snape', please refrain, unless you have some valid reasons to disapprove of my work. While I wish I could say with honesty that any and all criticism is welcome, the truth is that if you want to rant about my handling of the character, I want you to at least keep in mind that:
1) I'm writing from Harry and Hermione's POV and at this point, they know nothing of Dumbledore's plan: in their eyes, Snape is a traitorous bastard that has already murdered their beloved leader and will do it again if given half a chance;
2) for pity's sake, folks… no! The fact that Alan Rickman is an excellent/sexy actor is NOT reason enough to suddenly make Snape likable! No matter who is portraying him, the character Rowling created always has been, and always will be selfish, misanthropic and petty, regardless of his acts of heroism during the war: he only helps Harry grudgingly and makes his life hell whenever he gets the chance, he's stuck in a teenager's grudge and can't get past the whole James angle to see Harry as a person. He was brave, his actions commendable, but that doesn't make him a paragon of all that's good and generous and gracious! (Seriously!) If you feel such a need to express your appreciation for Mr. Rickman – a truly good actor whom I greatly admire – by singing the praises of the characters he gives life to (rather than, say, laud his acting skills) then I recommend his interpretation of Col. Brandon in Ang Lee's Sense and Sensibility!
If, however, your criticism goes beyond these two pet peeves of mine, feel free to tell me what you think – and don't pull your punches! I definitely want to know if I've managed to stay true to the character or if I've blown any chance at believability for good…
A/N 3: About Sirius. Before you ask, yes, I do have plans for freeing Sirius, they just haven't occurred to my characters yet. Things like this take time after all, and suddenly going to the past hasn't given Harry and Hermione any special superpower that allows them to achieve everything instantaneously!