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.
A/N: Just as a reminder... 'Leia' is Harry in Hermione's body, 'Sky' is Hermione in Harry's body. And, well, sorry about the title :D I couldn't resist the overused pun...
A… Switched Chance
10. Of Quidditch and other Sirius matters
Leia bounced on the balls of her feet, too giddy for words.
Widespread drama over Snape's trial or not, the school was keeping to as normal a schedule as feasible and that meant… Flying Lessons!
Her smile had been brilliantly contagious from very early morning and she'd hardly been able to keep still for longer than ten seconds straight.
She was going to fly! She was going to fly!
At three-thirty that afternoon, all of the first years Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson.
The Slytherins were already there, but even that couldn't mar Leia's wonderful mood, because so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground and really, if she had to play nice with the Snakes to get on one, she wasn't sure she really cared. Nor did she care that they were just school brooms, the old and slightly average kind, that started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left, or had some of the twigs sticking out at odd angles: a far cry from her trusted Nimbus 2000 (not to even mention her awesome Firebolt…)
Why would she care for such minor details?
She was going to fly!
Madam Hooch arrived, with her strange eyes, yellow like a hawk and just as keen in spotting fouls and at her barked order, Leia skipped excitedly to stand by a broomstick.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP" everyone shouted and Leia's broom obediently jumped into her hand at once. Glancing around, she saw that Sky's broom was in the boy's hands too: her best friend looked rather flabbergasted. Most others however simply hadn't moved at all, or had just rolled over on the ground. The Slytherins, with the exception of Malfoy, didn't fare any better.
Leia waited with growing impatience as Madam Hooch walked up and down the rows, showing them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and correcting their grips.
When the teacher finally – finally! – told them to "kick off from the ground, hard" on her whistle, Leia eagerly jumped on the broom and spared a thought for being thankful that Sky was looking after Nev because she could never have mustered the concentration to calm the other boy down and prevent his accident, not with how excited she was.
She rose in the air…
...and a wave of crushing disappointment fell on her.
The air ruffled her hair just right, her robes whipped out behind her as they'd always done, but… but the fierce joy that had always rushed through her as she soared on a broom wasn't truly there… flying was fun, it was exciting, yes… but it was no longer easy, no longer wonderful.
She couldn't understand why exactly, but it was as if, in his previous life, calculations he'd barely understood and fairly taken for granted had raced through his head, touching on the speed of the wind, the momentum of the broom, and a dozen other factors, and now… now instead of simply knowing the converging point of those calculations, it was like she was expected to actually solve them, and then explain to her body how they translated into movement.
Oh, she was still good on a broom – amazingly good for someone who had supposedly never flown, as Madam Hooch immediately remarked – but it came from how long she'd flown and practiced in her previous life, from how much time she'd spent honing her instincts and thinking on every move even out of the pitch… it was no longer as natural as breathing.
Disappointment and a little bit of envy filled her as she glanced over at her best friend. Sky didn't look to be particularly enjoying the activity, but certainly moved through the air with a confidence and grace that Hermione had never mustered, not even after years of lessons. He was a natural, and didn't even seem to appreciate it. It was so unfair!
They performed the simple manoeuvres Madam Hooch set them to, ignoring the Slytherins' taunts with ease… well except for Ron, who was, rather predictably, squabbling with Malfoy; but they both got reprimanded by Madam Hooch and lost a few points each, without affecting the others much.
Then Parvati, who was flying on her right, let out a dismayed cry: "My hair pin!"
In slow motion, Leia saw the bright pink hair pin that had been the centre-point of that morning's drama slip from Parvati's fingers and fall towards the ground.
All she could think was 'Oh, Merlin, no, not the bloody pin!'
It had been quite enough to bear the Indian girl's wails at the thought of the stupid thing being nowhere to be found, first, then at its being broken when Parvati found it stuffed under one of Lavender's make-up chests. Apparently it was a present from her favourite aunt and the mere idea of losing it was too distressing for anything less than tears. The only thing that had saved the poor girl from a nervous break-down was that Leia's own tentative reparo, while somewhat jumbled for the standards she was used to from her First Time, had managed to close the clasp properly again, if not to unbend the bruised thing.
And now it was going to be lost somewhere on the grounds? Not on Leia's watch!
She might not have her infallible air instincts anymore, but she did have experience to compensate for it.
Before anyone else could react to Parvati's cry, she was already plummeting in a steep dive, arm extended to grab the little thing that was so conveniently the rough size of a Snitch.
She vaguely heard screams and gasps and admiring whoops from the other first years, but she ignored them and merely leaned fully forward, shooting towards the ground like a javelin; wind whistled in her ears, exciting, exhilarating, she stretched out her hand steadily and a mere foot from the ground she caught the little thing, perfectly on time to pull the broom straight and avoid crashing in the grass.
She came out of her dive, muscles burning after the unfamiliar effort, hair pin clutched securely in her right hand, a huge smile at the return of the thrilling rush of flying, and regained consciousness of the rest of the world that out of habit she'd tuned out during her stunt, only to hear a cacophony of shouts – admiration, scolding, the after-effects of terror, shock, enthusiasm…
Then McGonagall's voice thundered through the courtyard, appalled: "Miss Granger!" and she froze, wide-eyed, torn between crying hysterically at the irony or breaking into mad laughter.
Her Head of House was running toward them, glasses flashing furiously in the sun, and she was almost speechless with shock: "- how dare you - might have broken your neck -"
"I don't think I've ever seen something like this, Minerva!" interjected Madam Hooch with awed excitement. "Never — in all my time at Hogwarts — she's a natural! Why, she's muggleborn, wouldn't you know, this is her first time on a broomstick! A natural, I tell you!" she enthused. "That was a fifty-foot dive, fifty-foot, Minerva! And she still caught that thing in her hand and didn't even scratch herself!"
"Merlin be praised for that!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall. "But it is indeed amazing. Even Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it. Come with me, Miss Granger. I think you can safely be excused from any further flying lessons!"
That would have upset her, if she didn't have an inkling on where, exactly, McGonagall was taking her; when, a few minutes later, they stopped to knock on Flitwick's door, she had to bite her lips hard to stop the enormous grin that threatened to overtake her face. She couldn't believe this…
But sure enough, McGonagall said the thrilling words: "Miss Granger, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I've found you a Seeker."
Later, she found out that she'd missed another small drama at the end of the flying lesson.
She arrived back to the Gryffindor Common Room, when Wood finally let her out of his sight, to find the first, second and third year boys gathered around Neville, all clutching bottles that she recognized as butterbeer.
"What's going on?" she asked, making everybody turn to her.
Sky answered exasperatedly: "Neville has a week's worth of detentions!"
That threw her: "What! Whatever did you do?"
It was Ron who answered, voice full of glee: "He broke Malfoy's nose!"
"What?"
"Yeah, Leia, you should have seen it!" shouted Terry excitedly. "It was totally brilliant!"
"Amazing!" added Seamus, grinning from ear to ear. "The ponce was just sprouting nonsense about Nev here being a crybaby and not brave enough for Gryffindor and wham!" He mimicked a punch to an invisible opponent.
"We decided that such a fine example…"
"…of upholding our noble House's pride…"
"…and showing up the dreadful Snakes deserved…"
"…a bit of celebration, so we…"
"…procured butterbeer for the hero of the day and his supporters!" finished the Twins chorusing.
"He totally earned it! You should have seen Malfoy's face… ha! Who's the crybaby now, huh?" shouted Ron.
"Here, try it! You'll love it – everybody does…" said Lee Jordan with a friendly smile, holding up a bottle of butterbeer.
She took the bottle and then turned to Neville: "So let me get this straight", she said, "you got in an argument with Malfoy, he insulted you and you… punched him, hard enough to break his nose?" she asked, a little incredulously. Shy, peaceful Neville? Who'd taken more bullying from the Slytherin than even most of the Hufflepuffs? Punching Malfoy? And he wasn't even in the hospital wing?
Neville flushed, but raised his head high, clearly torn between being ashamed and defending his actions: "He stole my Remeberall! He totally had it coming!" he protested.
Leia stared at him. Dear Merlin, she'd forgotten the Remeberall; she sure wouldn't have imagined the incident to go down this way!
Then she grinned widely and stood straight, saluting the brown-haired boy with the bottle raised in a toast: "To Neville Longbottom, the Lion with a Mean Right Hook!" she cried theatrically.
Cheers went up all around, even as Sky groaned in exasperation and Nev turned as red as a tomato at the very loud praises.
The impromptu celebration went on for a while, expanding to include her own amazing stunt along with Nev's triumph, which was her occasion to officially meet the Gryffindor Chasers, all too happy to have another girl on the team.
It was not long however before George (or was it Fred?) took her aside and, to her shock, apologized for Ron's thoughtless comments at the beginning of the year, claiming it was his duty to smooth things over, what with her being on the team and Ron being – unfortunately – their baby brother.
"Ickle Ronniekins isn't a bad kid, you know", he said with a genuine smile for her, "he just needs a bit of time."
"Time?" she asked a little sceptically.
George's smile gave way to a frown of concentration and he looked at her seriously. "I can tell by the way you and your friends hang around each other like it's the most natural thing in the world that in the muggle world things are different, but among wizards… well, children before Hogwarts tend to be rather isolated, you know? We Weasleys are lucky, there's seven of us!" he laughed lightly. "But even then… there's only three other wizarding families in the area we live in, and the Fawcetts are somewhat dark, so Mum wouldn't let us associate with them. The Diggorys only have a son, as you might know…" he trailed off suggestively and Leia groaned at his mischievous smile.
This 'crush' business was really becoming tiresome!
"What I mean is, Ron has only ever interacted with two girls, little Gin Gin, our baby sister, and well, sisters don't count you know… and Luna Lovegood and she is…" he tutted a bit, as if uncertain how to politely describe his neighbour, then seemed to find the words and proclaimed proudly with a sunny smile: "completely barmy!"
Leia gave him an unimpressed glare.
"Oh, no, no, don't take me wrong! I like her, and I totally find her brilliant, but the point is, well, she isn't the kind of girl who can inspire respect to a kid like Ron, you know? Plus, neither Luna nor Ginny are interested in Quidditch".
Leia refrained from snorting. From what she knew, Ginny had been breaking into the broom shed and secretly practicing with her brothers' brooms years before Hogwarts!
"Just give Ronniekins a chance to figure out there are smart and awesome girls out there and he'll come around, you'll see!"
Leia couldn't help smiling at the cheerful boy. She kept her sigh strictly internal: if only it were so simple… but she merely nodded to George.
Sure enough, when Ron found out that she was the youngest house player in about a century, he was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at her. Then he started going red in the face and stuttering if she talked to him, and Leia groaned in horrified dismay. Merlin, she did not need this!
At least he seemed too young for an actual crush and very soon went back to being a tactless prat most of the time, most notably in class – unless Quidditch was mentioned.
Leia wasn't impressed however.
Was this how it would be, then? Half the time he'd keep his distance because she was a girl and girls had cooties; the other half he would keep his distance out of awe for her flying skills?
She didn't know what was worse!
The easy friendship they'd once shared seemed more and more out of reach…
At least she had Sky.
Sky who was absolutely awesome, as was borne out the following week-end, while they were heading to the empty former-classroom that Flitwick had offered them for the meetings of the Sky's Club.
The tiny Professor was over the moon about their idea and had been seen bouncing with excitement as they explained the various 'games' they'd come up with to him, much to everybody's amusement. Leia was just thankful that the 'exercises' seemed to be working, at least a little: Transfiguration was still beyond her, but Charms were once again controllable, even if it took a bit more concentration than the First Time to get the desired results without… flourishes.
All thoughts of sparks and targets flew from her head, however, when Sky dragged her excitedly behind a statue, hurriedly casting a muffliato and then scowling because it didn't work. Sky seemed even further than her from control of his magic.
Amused, she grabbed her friend by the arm and led him a little further down the corridor; she parted the folds of a faded tapestry and motioned Sky toward the newly revealed passage behind it.
"We'll keep our voices down", she said, "nobody should notice us here. Now, spill!"
Sky shook himself and the excited glimmer in his eyes returned.
"I've got it!"
Leia's eyebrows rose, smiling: "You've got what, exactly?"
"I know what we can do for Sirius!"
Leia's amusement vanished, she was instantly serious.
"Here's my idea…" Sky said, starting down the passage and carefully sidestepping a pool of dirt on the narrow floor.
Leia listened intently, and cautiously let herself hope. It was risky… it would attract unwanted attention to them… but it might actually work.
Sky and her started the first phase that very night, thankful that their banishment from the Library was finally over, and drew the entire Club into the research that should, hopefully, give them the right excuse to act.
Hermione knew that her plan to help Sirius might well expose them to a variety of problems, ranging from their true knowledge of events being suspected to their moving up the timeline so much they would lose the advantage they now had.
Despite this, she couldn't bring herself to give up on the idea, nor to keep it from Harry even for a few months. She might have always thought Sirius an immature bully in dire need of support from a Mind Healer, but she had nevertheless felt a certain amount of affection for him, simply because of how much Harry loved him, and she didn't want to waste even one hour in getting him out of Azkaban.
Thus she found herself outside the door to McGonagall's office, after a few days of carefully staged preparations that had involved the unaware members of the Sky Club (she'd made it a point to drop the genitive, because as little sense as a Club named after the apparently dome-shaped blue-grey expanse extending upwards from the horizon made, naming it after her – or was it Harry – made even less sense).
Sky took a steadying breath and knocked.
"Come in!" came the brisk voice of his Head of House.
He pushed the door open and hovered on the doorstep, for a moment overcome with nerves.
Could she do this? Was it the right thing to do? Would it work?...
Then she steeled herself and marched in, grim and determined, closing the door at his back firmly, if with shaky hands.
"Mr. Potter", said McGonagall, managing to sound both perplexed and welcoming at the same time. "Is there a problem I can help you with?"
"Yes", he answered, and then immediately, "no, I mean, yes, but… not… not a problem. I mean…" he fidgeted a little, "it's not about schoolwork or such. That goes well, hum, aside from the fact that I still explode half of my transfigurations", he smiled weakly, "but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about…" He realized he was babbling but he couldn't seem to stop.
McGonagall seemed to recognize this too: "Mr. Potter, why don't you take a seat?" she said gently. "Here, have a biscuit."
She held out the battered tin box of Ginger Newts that she always took out for 'serious' conversations with her lion cubs and Hermione felt herself relax.
She'd always trusted her Head of House firmly and the familiar 'ritual' that had marked so many conversations about her difficulties adapting to the wizarding world, her ambitions, or her mad adventures at Harry's side, helped her immensely. McGonagall had always been a source of staunch support for her.
She knew Harry, while harbouring some deep affection for the old witch, was much more reserved and a lot more disillusioned towards her, but she thought part of it was Harry's peculiar and not always warranted distrust of adults. She thought the times he felt McGonagall had 'failed' him – not believing him, not helping him – were justified in the wider scheme of things and the old witch had her complete trust.
So Sky took the offered seat and a biscuit, and plunged head first into the matter, pleased that his voice was only slightly trembling: "Professor, what can you tell me about Sirius Black?"
McGonagall nearly dropped the tin box in her shock.
You could have heard a pin drop in the resulting silence.
The Professor's voice was unsteady when she finally asked: "Where d-did you hear that name, Harry?"
Sky blinked in surprise: he didn't think he'd ever heard McGonagall use first names, in either lives.
"The Club has been helping me research my past, Professor", he explained, keeping himself calm.
It was true, too: he and Leia had roped everyone in the endeavour.
"We found…" he hesitated briefly. "Well, we found a lot of gibberish and balderdash, and ground to sue most publishing companies in the wizarding world the moment I turn of age and it'll be legal for me to do so," McGonagall was gaping by this, "but we also found two books – out of nearly seventy! – that seemed somewhat concerned with reporting the truth, rather than sensational drivel or nonsensical hogwash!" He had to interrupt his tirade to draw breath and took the chance to compose himself. She hadn't meant to go off like that, but it was always hard for her to find books... disappointing.
McGonagall's face was a study in shock and he fidgeted under her stunned stare.
"Anyway", he coughed a little, embarrassed, "both the books mentioned Mr. Black and…"
"What…?" interrupted McGonagall, gulping a little. "What books, if I may ask?"
"Greatest Magical Events of the XXth Century, whose authors at least try to restrict themselves to confirmed facts, amazing I know, and An overview of the Seventies, Magical versus Muggle", he answered promptly.
"I've never heard of the latter", said McGonagall dazed.
Sky sniffed disdainfully. "Probably because the author is a Muggle, so, of course, Flourish&Blotts doesn't sell it!"
"A Muggle?" squeaked McGonagall. "Impossible!"
Sky narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Oh? And why is that, pray tell?"
"Well… well… the S-statute of…"
"Secrecy? It does include a clause about muggle parents or spouses, does it not?"
McGonagall inhaled sharply, apparently shocked beyond belief.
Sky didn't bother to hide his irritation: "Patrick Finnigan, Seamus' dad if you're wondering, married a pureblood witch, Rosie McKann, from the oldest line in County Down I'm told, and is the father of three magical children, thus the Statute doesn't apply to him. He is also, imagine that, a great academic who specialized in historical research and is well-known in the muggle world for his popular works on History."
That had been quite the surprise. Even she, Gryffindor's very own bookworm, hadn't ever found out that Seamus 'Firewhiskey Smuggler' Finnigan had a scholar for a father, before.
"I- I had no idea…" said McGonagall faintly.
"Of course, since he is unable to publish in the wizarding world: apparently nobody wants to read the work of a Muggle, never mind that his research is widespread and detailed like nothing the Magicals have produced!"
McGongall was speechless.
"Seamus was over the moon when the Club agreed to buy Mr. Finnigan's work. We've found that it is the most reliable, the most accurate, and the most sensible account on that fateful Halloween available. And" he stressed, remembering Harry's comments, "it lines up with what little memories I have of that night, unlike any other poppycock tale I've found!"
"You… you remember…" McGonagall looked horrified.
Sky averted his eyes and shrugged. "Very little. But I do get nightmares about it from time to time. Anyway", he raised his head again, chin stubbornly set. "I want to know who Sirius Black is, was, whatever, and what part did he play in my parents' deaths", he said, his tone growing harsher.
"There is no need for you to concern yourself with..."
"I want the truth!" he said forcefully.
"You are very young, Mr. Potter, and..."
"It's my parents. It's my life. I want to know!" He drilled the Professor with a burning gaze. He would not let her weasel out of this! Too much was at stake to let her cowardly scruples delay the conversation.
She hesitated, twisting her hands nervously.
"Mr. Potter… Harry… you're still a child. A very mature child, but nonetheless… there are things that…"
"He betrayed them, didn't he?" he cut her off, voice completely devoid of any emotion.
McGonagall gaped. "How…?"
Sky smiled, grimly and bitterly. "I'm not stupid, you know. The hints may be vague, but once you put them together…"
And she had a rather unfair advantage, but she wasn't going to mention that.
"He's in Azkaban for being a supporter of the Dark Lord. And the school's record that Madam Pince helped me look up my parents in always have James Potter and Sirius Black listed together: detentions, pranks, whatever, if you just look at the books, they were inseparable. Like best friends."
McGonagall's eyes were full of tears and she nodded mutely, overcome.
"Besides, Draco Malfoy came upon us in the Library when we were researching and he taunted me a lot about how, if it were him, he would want revenge over Black… he was delighted and smug that I didn't seem to know what he was talking about…"
Well, this last part wasn't true, but it had happened in their third year, so Hermione squashed the vague guilt about lying, and possibly getting the worthless blond in trouble. He had it coming anyway, even if he was more tolerable this time than in her previous life.
"Oh, Harry", sighed McGonagall. She was silent for a while, lost in thought. Sky didn't interrupt her.
Finally she sighed again. "Truth is, I still have trouble believing it," she said despondently. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought… I mean, I remember him so well from when he was a boy here at Hogwarts. He was one of my lions and... teachers shouldn't have favourites, of course, but I must confess, I had a soft spot for him and… and your father." She gulped as if to swallow tears. "If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead. But I suppose bad blood will out in the end… he came from a very dark family…" she trailed off sadly.
Sky bristled. What was it with the wizarding world and their obsession with blood? So Sirius' family was dark, so what! It had still produced two war heroes for the Light, considering what Regulus Black had done. Yet nobody would ever find out because they automatically accepted that 'bad blood outs'... But he didn't dare interrupt.
McGonagall focused on him, sad and steady. "He is accused of a lot of horrible things, and no doubt he did many more that will never come to light."
Sky fought to refrain a scowl.
"But the worst is certainly what he did to your parents. Your guess about his relationship with your father is correct… they were indeed best friends. I could hardly ever see one without the other... Black and Potter, ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers —"
She shook her head desolately. "You'd have thought they were brothers, the way they acted. Inseparable!"
She closed her eyes as if pained by the memories.
"It goes without saying that your father trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then…" she faltered.
Sky knew what she didn't want to say: that they'd named Sirius Harry's godfather. He didn't think McGonagall would voice the fact. She would believe that the idea would torment Harry too much… Hermione herself remembered all too well how Harry had been after they'd heard this very story hidden behind a Christmas tree, two years from now…
"Then he turned out to be in league with Voldemort?" he asked to help her out, and ignored her flinch at hearing the name.
McGonagall regarded him desolately. "Professor Dumbledore, who was as you can imagine working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once that You-Know-Who would be after them. He advised them to go into hiding and suggested that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."
"How does that work?" said Sky, feigning being breathless with interest.
"It is an immensely complex spell," McGonagall answered, "that hides a secret inside one person, called Secret-Keeper, making it impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where you and Lily and James were staying for years and never find you, not even if he had his nose pressed against your sitting room window!"
Sky kept his face stone-like as he pretended to guess: "And Black was our Secret-Keeper? And he betrayed us?"
McGonagall sighed. "Your father told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where you were, that he was planning to go into hiding himself… and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Secret-Keeper himself. He was sure that somebody close to your parents had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," said Professor McGonagall darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."
"But then why did my parents still choose Black?" Sky asked, pretending to be distressed.
"I don't know", answered McGonagall sadly, "but barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed —" she paused, her lips thinning out to whiteness. "I suppose Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who... he would have been able to do so and claim great honour from the dark side after your deaths... Instead, inexplicably, You-Know-Who met his downfall in a little baby – you - and he fled, horribly weakened, his powers gone. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it —"
"Filthy coward that he must have been", spat Sky, hoping he was being convincingly venomous.
A long silence followed, with McGonagall regarding Sky worriedly.
Hermione wasn't entirely sure how to go on. How could she lead the conversation where she needed it to go?
At last Sky said: "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him and he is in jail now, right?"
McGonagall bowed her head. "Yes. Although…" she hesitated, evidently unsure on whether to tell the full story as she knew it or not. "It wasn't the Ministry, it was another of your parents' friends. Have you found the name of Peter Pettigrew as well, by chance?"
Hermione thought quickly and nodded. "He received an Order of Merlin, did he not?"
McGonagall gave him a tremulous smile. "For the capture of Sirius Black, yes. Poor Peter… he was always tagging around after your father and Black at Hogwarts. Hero-worshipped them. Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I — how I regret that now…"
She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.
"He went after Black himself, no doubt maddened by grief… foolish boy… he was always hopeless at duelling… should have left it to the Ministry… Eyewitnesses — Muggles, unfortunately, so they didn't understand much of what they saw — claimed that Pettigrew cornered Black, sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…"
Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy… "
Sky clamped firmly down on the temptation to shout out the truth. It would do absolutely no good right now… Thank Merlin it's me and not Harry here… he wouldn't be able to take this, I'm sure…
"Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."
Sky nodded numbly. Well, that was all they needed. Now to play his part well enough to fool the good old witch.
"Harry", called McGonagall in a coaxing voice.
He shook his head violently. Of course, she would want him to talk about this, not to box everything up… but Hermione didn't feel up to a therapy session that wasn't even aimed at her…
"'m fine", he managed to mumble.
"Harry, you are most certainly not. This is a terrible thing to face, especially for someone so young, and…"
Sky shot to his feet. "I'm fine", he insisted. "I just… I need…" his voice was dry and made it hard to articulate properly. "I'll just… I'll go now… homework…"
"Homework can wait, Harry", said McGonagall frowning, clearly worried by his reaction. "Sit down a moment and…" she reached out a hand to his shoulder and Sky bolted for the door.
He heard her half-cry of surprise behind him but only ran faster. Good thing he'd arranged with Leia beforehand where she would wait for him… they'd imagined he might need an escape route, but they'd forgotten that McGonagall had more resources than what was usually apparent… it was mere seconds before he was almost overtook by a tabby cat…
He took a corner at a run and threw himself into one of Harry's secret passages, a dusty, smelly one even the Twins never used, momentarily throwing off his pursuer.
By the time McGonagall caught up with him again, he was in Leia's arms; they were sitting at the bottom of a set of stairs and she was hugging him and murmuring soothing nonsense, playing her part of clueless comforter to perfection.
He didn't raise his head to look at McGonagall and followed their conversation with only half an ear. The important part was done, now he just had to appear properly distressed.
Leia managed to convince a reluctant McGonagall that 'the Club would handle this' and finally the elderly Professor left, shooting them worried looks and muttering about 'talking to Albus'. Well, all they could do was hope the Headmaster didn't decide to involve himself too much.
They skipped classes, to keep up the pretence of his being greatly distressed, and later when their friends came looking for them, worried by their absence, Sky haltingly relayed everything McGonagall had told him.
It was harder then Hermione had thought it would be, facing them, seeing their eyes fill with horror and anger and pity. She could only be thankful, over and over, that this task fell on her. Harry would have never been able to stand it. As it was, Leia was deadly pale and gripping Sky's hand so hard it hurt, though he would never have admitted it to her.
For a couple of days after that, Sky acted gloomy and depressed, and pretended not to notice his friends watching him nervously, not daring to talk about what they'd discovered, but apprehensive nonetheless, and spending most of their time either whispering at his back, or trying to shush the most exuberant among them, especially Seamus, who had some colorful choice words for the situation – and for 'that scoundrel Black'.
McGonagall tried twice to get him to talk, but he deftly avoided her well-meaning insistence.
Then he and Leia agreed that it was time for part two of their plan.
He disappeared into his dorm for a few hours and came down to find that Leia, as agreed, had gathered all the first years Gryffindor with an excuse. He went up to them, pale and grim, and asked quietly: "Does any of you have a camera?"
They hesitated, perplexed, shooting each other worried glances: they'd been treating him like a china doll, thought Hermione with a bit of annoyance.
Leia saved the day, asking quietly: "I'm sure we can find one. Why do you need it?"
He smiled grimly, and explained his plan.
Admiration and determination entered their friends' eyes as they listened, and they got to it.
It turned out Hannah Abbot had a wizarding camera and the Sky Club had a lot of fun taking the most outrageous pictures of all of them; Sky pretended that they were cheering him up – and it wasn't a lie either: even if he wasn't truly depressed, the light-hearted fun and laughter would have lifted anyone's spirit.
Then they chose the best one, a group shot with each and every member of the Sky Club hugging each other in a big puppy pile on some desks and laughing, with 'Harry Potter' prominently in the centre… and Ron's pet rat, that Leia had quite determinedly but very sneakily included, fully displayed on the redhead's shoulder, mutilated paw catching the eye easily.
Hopefully, the picture would work like the image of the Weasleys in Egypt that had appeared on the Daily Prophet had, and spur Sirius into action, especially since this time 'Wormtail' was so close to Harry.
McGonagall was flabbergasted when they trooped to her office to ask if it was possible to send a letter to an Azkaban inmate. She looked overwhelmed when she read Sky's neat writing on the back of the picture: You didn't win. You never will.
Sky could tell the moment McGonagall was converted to support their plan, by the glint of steel that entered her eyes. As Hermione well knew, the elderly Professor was a Gryffindor at heart and she would fully approve the strength and defiance and sheer daring of their move. Flaunting the fact that 'Harry Potter' had survived and was happy in the face of the man that had supposedly done everything in his power to destroy that happiness forever.
It had actually been Harry who came up with the sentence and Hermione knew it was her friend's truest attitude, the amazing strength that would always carry him through anything Fate threw at him.
She had always admired his resilience immensely and this was yet another instance of it.
Though a part of her was ill at ease with his extreme adaptability.
Only a couple days before Leia told 'him' in confidence that 'it was much easier talking to Neville now than when I was a boy'.
It threw Hermione badly. She would never refer to herself as a male, or as a 'former girl', not unless it was essential to their deception. She couldn't believe that Harry was starting to talk of himself as a girl, for Merlin's sake!
It was true that Harry had always been extremely adaptable, taking most of what destiny threw at him in stride, but she hadn't expected him to adjust to the Switch so soon. Or ever, actually.
She didn't say anything to him, but moved her research about the ritual and how to reverse it near the top of her list, right after the Horcruxes. She didn't want to remain 'Harry' forever, nor did she want them to have troubles readjusting to their real selves later on!
Since they'd decided to make their move on 'Quirrelmort' on Halloween, and that was still three weeks away, Sky and Leia were looking forward to a pause before the next storm, especially since McGonagall had warned them that it would take a while before the letter to Azkaban could get through the security there.
In the meanwhile, things were more or less back to normal, their friends didn't walk on eggshells around Sky anymore, classes were starting to pick up their pace, Terry and Seamus had managed to land themselves in detention for rattling the door of the forbidden third floor corridor while off 'exploring' and Neville's Gran had sent him a letter that was such a weird mixture of ferocious disapproval for his getting detention and surprised praise at his standing up to 'the spawn of that despicable woman, Narcissa Malfoy' that the boy had read it aloud to the Club, much to everybody's amusement.
All they still had to dread, for a while at least, were Snape's classes; the dark man had been glowering at Sky from a distance and shooting him such venomous looks that he was starting to feel a little nervous, despite it being unlikely that the former Head of Slytherin would risk attracting more attention to his treatment of 'Harry Potter'.
Even if they hadn't managed to neutralize him as they'd been aiming to, however, it seemed as if they had at least guaranteed him a headache, which explained his worse than standard mood: it appeared a confirmed and undeniable fact that Snape and the Supervisor had known and disliked each other long before this mess even started.
The tall, rather plain woman the Guild of Potioneers nominated as Supervisor, whose name, it turned out, was Lavinia Norland (and Sky had rolled his eyes in exasperation when Leia had given him a blank 'Who?' stare – honestly! She was the Potions Mistress that had radically changed the theory behind brewing specialized antidotes, only a couple years in the future! She'd even discovered several draughts effective against uncommon poisons, including the Angel's Trumpet Draught and the Bloodroot Potion, how could Harry not even have heard her name?), was a stern, no-nonsense witch with a penchant for sarcasm and according to several accounts had already taken Snape to task about his lack of proper instructions to the students and his apparent unconcern with the very idea of teaching.
The rumour mill was already spinning wild tales about their 'relationship' before now.
Snape was actually a Vampire (apparently that particular rumour would never grow old) and had tried to turn her in the past, but she'd escaped, and that was why they hated each other; Snape had been madly in love with her and she couldn't stand him and had rejected him and that was why they hated each other; Ms. Norland had been Snape's Apprentice and she'd had to run away because he was too cruel with her and he'd never forgiven her for abandoning him and that was why they hated each other; Snape's father had had an affair and Ms. Norland was actually Snape's illegitimate half-sister and they were jealous of each other and that was why they hated each other...
Sky had heard all of this and a couple even more outrageous hypotheses, the only truthful nugget of which was the fact – clear as day – that the two couldn't stand each other.
Having the advantage of a few years of knowledge on the rest of her schoolmates, Hermione was aware of the fact that Snape had not believed Lavinia Norland capable enough for a Potions Mastery and had blocked her achieving the title twice, something she had never quite forgiven, before she'd managed to arrange to be judged by a different Committee and had been hailed a 'genius of brewing', something that Snape had considered a personal affront. And that was why they hated each other. But as it had only come out a few years from now, when she'd used an interview after her success with the antidotes to rub it in his face that he'd been wrong about her, Sky kept his mouth shut and just amused himself listening to the ridiculous rumours.
He just wondered what it was going to be like, watching the two of them interact in class...
It was, however, before they even had the chance to have a second Potions class that a worrisome potential snitch in their plans presented itself to effectively distract them, in the form of a new teacher being introduced at dinner.
"In light of the recent concerns that have risen, with regards to the dangers posed to all of us by Mind Arts users", said Dumbledore, and for once his tone was anything but cheerful as he addressed his students, "the Ministry has decided to add a new course to our curriculum; a course that will teach several meditation techniques and cover the basis of Mind Shielding."
Sky and Leia stared at him wide-eyed. They were adding Occlumency to the curriculum?
"The course will be offered as an elective to everybody fourth year and up, as well as to a few selected younger students who will prove particularly apt at it," continued Dumbledore, and his eyes strayed to the end of the Gryffindor table, where the first years sat all together.
Sky moaned softly. This was for him, he just knew it. Leia's hand found his under the table and squeezed.
"Your Heads of Houses will soon inform you of all the relevant details. For now, let us welcome Professor Ermin Croaker", the Headmaster finished in an encouraging tone, and started clapping.
There was some scattered applause from the student body, and a great deal of excited whispers.
Sky noticed that Dumbledore looked less than pleased with this turn of events. Well, of course... the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts much sooner than they had the First Time... Hermione was less than happy herself and definitely worried: just how much had their attempt at getting rid of Snape effected their world?
"Croaker, Croaker…" mused Leia wonderingly. "Why do I have the feeling that it has something to do with Quidditch?"
"Because you think everything has to do with Quidditch!" snapped Sky snarkily.
It wasn't fair to Leia, but Hermione was feeling out of sorts and on top of that, 'he' was rather miffed that Harry had managed to land herself on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team despite being in her body.
Just what was she to do when she was back to her body, pray tell? Sure, flying wasn't as horrible as it used to be anymore, but that didn't mean 'he' liked it! She could barely talk about Quidditch, playing was a ridiculous idea.
It was deeply unsettling to imagine herself clad in the red and gold of the flying uniform, streaking in the air in one of the absurd moves Harry was bound to want to try. If he breaks my neck with a False Wonsky, so help me I'll…
"I do not!" cried Leia indignantly in response. "And there's no need to be nasty!"
"Besides", she added after a moment, lowering her voice so that only Sky could hear, "I think this is the same as that Gregorovitch business."
"Huh?" said Sky intelligently.
"You know!" insisted Leia. "When I dreamt that V- that he was looking for Gregorovitch, and the name was sort of familiar, and I thought it had to do with Quidditch, and it turned out it was a wand maker instead and I'd associated it with Quidditch because he'd made Kr-… err… a famous Seeker's wand…"
Sky stared at her as she trailed off.
"You… have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
Sky shook his head and murmured stiffly: "I suppose you discussed this with… ah…"
Leia nodded, looking uncertain.
Sky didn't even know why he was upset. As 'Hermione', she'd always known 'the boys' had a different relationship between them than they had with her… it had never mattered before that Harry and Ron had talked about things they didn't share with her. Why did it suddenly seem important?
"It was a nightmare…" was saying Leia apologetically, "and, well… I guess… I guess I just forgot later…"
"That's okay", said Sky and almost winced at how flat it came out. It was ok, was it not? Why was he upset anyway?
He shook his head briskly and said: "So you think he might be connected with a Quidditch player? Or..." Hermione's agile mind was already connecting dots that barely seemed to be there. "Maybe it's about the Quidditch World Cup. It's the only event in your life that is related to Quidditch but not to Hogwarts and we did meet a lot of people there... maybe he was one of those Mr. Weasley introduced us to?"
Leia's eyes widened. "Not introduced. Pointed out. Remember? Bode and Croaker..."
Sky frowned, not understanding the other's nervous tone. Then he registered Leia's words and froze, the name 'Broderick Bode' forever etched in her memory because of the man's horrid death in St. Mungo's: "Bode... he was an Unspeakable!" he hissed.
"Is", corrected Leia, "and so is he", added with a jerky nod to the High Table, where the new Professor was having a lively conversation with the Astronomy teacher.
"We are in so much trouble", Sky moaned, closing his eyes.
A/N: I received a review from a reader worried that 'it has beeen 6 months and you are only in the first week of classes' and advising that I should perhaps 'try not focus on such tiny details and get to the big points of the story'. At first, I confess, it made me laugh, because if you check 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone', it takes Rowling 8 chapters out of 17 just to arrive to the first week of classes; as it's only normal when you're creating a world, because after all, you don't want to interrupt the action-filled last chapters to stop and explain something you didn't include before, so the 'tiny details' need to go earlier. However I then thought on it a bit and I admit that I enjoy describing the little things immensely, so if I'm going overboard, I'm not likely to notice. I'm asking all of you then, do you want me to speed things up? Concentrate on pushing the main points of the story forward? I could easily wrap up most sub-plots instead of expanding on them. Just drop me a line in a review and tell me your preference, will you?
(To aboulhosncc, I realize your main concern is about my suddenly abandoning the story in mid-plot. I have no intention of doing so, but I also cannot offer any guarantee that I'll manage to continue as I plan: RL has a way to mess up the best intentions… Luna)