Harry Potter and the Polymagus

by jlluh

Harry survived Voldemort's curse because his parents were badass magic researchers.

9. Chapter 9: Hair Should Be Pink

Chapter 9: Hair Should Be Pink

The Hospital wing was pandemonium with a small cast.

Snape strapping Ron onto a bed, Madam Pomfrey flicking off Sirius's dirty clothing with a wave of her wand, Lupin putting Sirius flat on his stomach, Madam Pomfrey shouting incantations at the hole in Sirius's back, Madam Pomfrey's assistant pouring fluids into what looked surreally like a muggle IV stand.

Dumbledore stared at the weapon. "Life sucking poignard." He cast three spells, said, "Emptied," and it vanished. "He needs a Potestas Vitae Regenerative Draught."

Pomfrey said, "We don't keep that in stock."

Professor Snape said, "Orphiel has some," and dashed out.

Rather than a bandage, Madam Pomfrey placed on Sirius's wound what looked very like a dark greenish-grey snake tightly coiled into a disk the size of a woman's palm. Harry recognized it from his potions book as a snakestone, useful in all manner of healing potions.

"Get back," said Madam Pomfrey, and put her wand on it.

Aitches retreated, and the green and brown flash seemed more shadow than light.

Sirius screamed.

Dumbledore said, "Push it out boy, I know you can." Then Dumbledore was casting spells of his own, working in concert with Madam Pomfrey, Sirius groaning all the while, the snakestone rocking on the wound like the lid on a bubbling pot. It changed color, lightening, and when it had turned yellowish-white, Dumbledore's wand flicked and it vanished. Harry had a glimpse of yellowish-white puss like liquid oozing up before Pomfrey dropped another snakestone on the hole in Sirius.

They went through four before the oozing stopped. Madam Pomfrey patched the hole with a single spell, Lupin turned Sirius onto his back, and Dumbledore rested a hand on Sirius's head. "Sleep now."

It wasn't a spell and he didn't use his wand, but Harry felt the magic in the words. Sirius's eyes closed and his breathing, shallow yet loud, became regular.

Lupin strapped Sirius to the bed.

Dumbledore took a gulp from his flask and wiped sweat from his forehead.

Snape ran in with dark gold liquid in a beaker, and Madam Pomfrey got it down Sirius's throat without waking him. She said, "That's all there is, Severus?"

"I'll start another batch," said Snape, and left quickly as he'd come.

The assistant hooked up the IV to Sirius without any needles. Madam Pomfrey sat. Dumbledore took a breath, cracked his knuckles, and with a spell returned Ron to consciousness.

Ron said, "Why are you standing sideways?"

"You're lying down, Ron."

"Oh." Ron tried to sit up, and didn't get half an inch before the straps stopped him. He raised his head as much as he could and looked down his nose at the straps. "Seat belts. Are we going for a car ride? My dad likes car rides."

"Arthur would, wouldn't he. Maybe we'll go for a car ride later. First, look into my eyes."

Having done it so much to animals, Harry recognized the moment their gazes locked and Ron couldn't look away.

Dumbledore said, "Tell me about Sirius Black."

"He killed Scabbers. Scabbers is my rat, but he's also a wizard who was good friends with Mr. Lupin. And he wanted to kill Harry. Sirius Black, I mean."

"Harry's fine. He's right here. Say hello, Harry."

Harry leaned over and patted Ron's arm. "Hey Ron. I'm fine."

Ron's eyes swiveled slightly, taking Harry in only peripherally, his focus still on Dumbledore's large pupils.

Dumbledore said, "Hermione's here too. Say hello, Hermione."

"Hi Ron. Let's play chess when you're better."

"Better?" said Ron.

Dumbledore said, "You're a little sick, but it's nothing to worry about. Did anyone tell you to kill Sirius Black?"

"I did."

"Anyone else?"

"All the newspapers. Several quills. A notebook. Scabber's bed. Mum. Professor Quirrell's turban. Harry."

Harry shook his head.

Ron continued, "The butter knife. The poking knife. Lots of things."

"Professor Quirrell's turban?" said Dumbledore.

"It snuck into my room last night and whispered secrets to me. Or maybe that was a dream. Yeah. That would have to be

a dream, wouldn't it?"

"Probably so. The poking knife. Where did you get it?"

"Under my pillow. I'd put it there."

"And where did you get it before you put it under your pillow?"

"Under my pillow. I was dreaming that I was asleep, and while I was sleeping I took it from under my pillow."

Dumbledore said, "Hmm. How about the chickens?"

Ron said, "Is the soup ready yet?"

"Chicken soup?"

"Yeah, that's why I had to kill the chickens. It was sad because I'd never done it before, but I wanted chicken soup. Where's the chicken soup?"

"It's almost ready," said Dumbledore. "Who told you to kill chickens for the soup?"

"You did."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Of course. I remember now. Well done. Ron, if all As are Bs and most Bs are Cs, does it follow that at least some As are Cs?"

Ron's head tilted. "I don't think-"

"Clarifus," said Dumbledore, waving his wand.

Ron blinked. His eyes rolled and he slept.

Dumbledore spoke to the air. "Mistmack. Six bowls of your homiest chicken soup, on the double."

Mistmack's voice came from the air. "I hear and obey."

Dumbledore said, "When did Ron first seem off?"

"First day I met him."

Hermione said, "Harry."

"I'm not joking. He's Ron. He lives in his own world of Quidditch, chess and ideas he likes, and just glances up from time to time to see what the rest of us are doing. It makes it hard to tell. But maybe Friday in the library."

Hermione said, "He's the one who solved the puzzle, even if he didn't know what the puzzle was of. Just Ron being Ron. But after Pettigrew had been caught, when we were talking outside the room they interrogated him in, Ron wasn't right."

"I thought he was just joking," said Harry.

"Seemed serious to me."

"You're probably right. And that's after the library anyway."

Dumbledore said, "You were in the library before you came to me?"

"Yes."

"He wasn't Confunded in my office. I would've noticed. And when he seemed strange outside the interrogation room, that was before or after his detention with Shelby Blank?"

"Before," they said together. And new worlds of consideration entered their heads as Dumbledore wrote that in a small notebook.

Harry said, "But the next morning he seemed fine."

Hermione said, "That's right, he did."

Dumbledore said, "Did you talk about Pettigrew or Sirius?"

"A little before breakfast. But mostly we stayed away from it. We talked about clubs."

"You did nothing to activate the confusion. And it probably got worse with time."

Hermione said, "Did Pettigrew confund Ron?"

"That seems likely."

Hermione said, "Or maybe an older student confunded Ron as a prank, and it went bad."

"Less likely, but possible."

"Please don't tell me there's another psycho in this school. We talked to that house-elf, Mistmack. And she said Voldemort, except she called him the Regressor, was in this school."

A flick of Dumbledore's wand, and the sound of Madam Pomfrey checking Sirius's IV became distant, echoey. Dumbledore said, "Mistmack is wise in her way, but excitable, as house-elves are. Don't ignore her, but don't weigh her words too heavily."

Harry said, "Mistmack is a she?"

"You didn't notice the..." Hermione waved her hands over her chest,"protuberances? Six of them."

Dumbledore said, "Mistmack is a breeding female. That aside, I hope you won't repeat what she said to anyone else. It could cause a most unnecessary panic. Promise me."

Harry said, "I promise. Unless there's a really good reason. Like if you've died and Voldemort is taking over Hogwarts."

"Fair enough. Hermione?"

She frowned. "Mistmack said you were playing a game cat of cat and rat with him."

"Miss Granger, throughout my long conflict with Voldemort, there have been many plots and machinations. But they're not games. If I knew where Voldemort was I would not be talking to you two. I would be gathering the most powerful witches and wizards I could trust to gang up on him unfairly and end him mercilessly.

"I am already looking for whoever is responsible, and I will be deeply surprised if the offender is Lord Voldemort. If he is still alive, Hogwarts is the single most dangerous place in the world for him to be. Suggesting that he is here would only cause panic. Hermione, promise me you won't tell any other students this."

"I promise."

"Good."

The sound of a bell.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and six bowls of steaming hot chicken soup appeared on the bedside table, smelling of chicken, rosemary and thyme. "Lupin, Poppy, eat up. Aitches too. Ron's will be hot whenever he wakes."

Harry and Hermione removed themselves to a table with space to not be knocking elbows with Dumbledore.

They worried about Ron and Sirius, ate their soup, and the door burst open. Percy ran in, Fred and George each a step behind. "Is Ron alright?"

Dumbledore sucked a noodle up pursed lip and said, "Sit down, Mr. Weasleys, and calm down."

They paced before Ron's bed.

Dumbledore said, "He's been confunded. The student who did it, if it was a student, will likely be expelled once caught.I've broken the spell, but it takes time for the deeply Confunded mind to return to proper order."

"Likely?" said Percy.

"It's hard to imagine what circumstances might extenuate, but sometimes, reality provides where my imagination fails."

"But-"

"If you wish to complain about a decision I probably won't make in response to information yet unknown, wait until tomorrow."

Fred said, "He'll be alright though?"

"He'll be back after Christmas. A stay at Saint Mungo's will set him right as rain."

All three brothers jerked.

"It happened at school, so the school will pay of course. We could do no less."

Weeks? Harry had been assuming Ron would be fine in a few days.

Percy said, "And Sirius Black?"

"Your brother will not have a man's life on his hands, if that's what you're asking. The Confundus Charm being what it is, that would be true even if Sirius died. Which he won't, though his stay in Saint Mungo's will last weeks longer than Ron's and full recovery will take months."

George said, "Where's our mum?"

"Returning from a sweep of the Forbidden Forest with Moody. I've called her back, and I'll tell her why the moment she's here."

The brothers settled into chairs around Ron's bed, and Harry set down the spoon. Eating while the brothers kept vigil around Ron felt like wearing red to a funeral. He caught Hermione's eye and motioned toward the door.

They got up. Harry was almost out the door when he realized Hermione wasn't behind him. She was speaking softly to the Weasley brothers, giving them little hugs. George said something that brought a brief smile to all their faces.

Harry thought he should go over too, but didn't know what he'd say or do.

After a last pat to Percy's shoulder, Hermione left with Harry.

#
#

On entering the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Hermione collapsed onto the first free couch cushions they saw.

And they were mobbed by the other Gryffindors, who had seen the Weasley brothers called for, heard that something had happened to Ron, and something to Sirius Black, and wanted to know what.

They told the other Gryffindors what had happened, minus Mistmack and Voldemort, all the Gryffindors listening carefully. The consensus was that Pettigrew had confunded Ron at some point, and this was the last gasp of the whole Pettigrew saga. Word had even come in that there wouldn't be any older wizards sleeping in the dormitory anymore.

A third-year asked, "But what does Pettigrew have against chickens?"

Alice Bell, a seventh-year prefect, said, "It's not strange to have a random delusion come out of a big, complicated, powerful Confundus Charm like that."

They wanted to know about Sirius Black, and Harry said he'd seemed tired and sad and looked like someone who'd gone camping and not brought enough food.

They key information gained, the older students shushed the others, and Harry stared unfocused at the fire crackling in the hearth. He had two hours of homework ahead of him, and he wasn't doing any of it. Not any of it. Not any of it.

Neville went around the common room, still asking if anyone had seen his toad. Carole Funk was looking for hers too.

Hermione said, "Homework."

Harry made a sound like a creaking gate.

"We have to do it."

Alice Bell approached with a form. "I know this isn't the best time, but I suppose you're going home for Christmas."

Hermione said, "Sorry Harry. I feel bad, but-"

"We already talked about this. I'll miss you, but you'll be back two weeks later. Go home."

She signed the form to go home, and Harry signed it to stay at Hogwarts.

Alice said, "Harry, are you sure? You don't miss your Aunt and Uncle?"

Harry said, "They're going on a cruise over Christmas. They'd been planning for months before I ever got the letter."

"You'll probably be the only first-year to stay. I'll have to clear it with McGonagall."

McGonagall had been to the Dursleys. "She'll clear it."

Alice left, and Harry thought about how the Dursleys had been displeased when he'd gotten bad marks, but even more displeased in a different way when he'd gotten good ones.

He screamed at the ceiling, stood, and wondered where his bag was. He was wearing his bag. "Can I borrow a music box? Ben, can I borrow your music box? Please."

"Sure."

The music box was about the same size and shape as Ron's chess clock. It knew all the music, and when you pressed the button it played whatever music suited your mood. Harry swung the dial to 'motivational' and pressed it.

Electric guitar, a man screaming in the background, so loud some of the other students jumped.

"Set it to private," yelled Alice Bell.

He pressed the button that made it so only he could hear.

Hermione slapped the button so she could hear too.

His quill kept tearing little holes in the parchment, but he didn't care. They seemed representative of where his mind was at.

"Potter. Potter. Potter. Harry Potter."

Harry didn't hear.

A touch on his shoulder got his attention, and he needed five seconds to process that the person grabbing him was Professor McGonagall.

"Potter, Granger, you're doing homework?"

"It's due tomorrow."

McGonagall said, "Not it isn't. You have no homework due tomorrow. You have none due this week. In some classes it may just be extensions, but in my class at least, this homework is for you null and void. It does not count toward your grade. Don't do it, you're not allowed to, I'm talking to you there, Miss Granger."

McGonagall continued, "You don't have detention tomorrow. Or class either. You're not allowed to go. Both of you."

"We'll fall behind," said Hermione.

"You're already ahead. This last week, this whole year, I'm sure has been traumatic for you both, and I'm arranging for sessions with a counselor."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and scooted against the back of his chair hard enough to tip it slightly.

"Mr. Potter, I assure you that, however muggle counselors might be, wizarding counselors are quite skilled."

"The counselors are fine. It's what the other students say. Is that different here?"

"There may be a few who bother you, but I assure you that the students of Hogwarts as a whole will think there's nothing amiss with a pair of students who watched their friend be confunded into almost killing a man see a counselor."

Quick perusal of stereotypes found an objection that might dissuade. "It's fine for Hermione, but if word leaks out that Harry Potter is seeing a counselor it'll be on The Daily Prophet's front page."

"You were there together, so you ought to be counseled together for at least some of it. And Potter, has it occurred to you that seeing a counselor might help Hermione, and your objection is keeping her from it?"

His mouth dropped. That hadn't occurred to him.

"But I'll arrange for something else."

Harry said, "It's fine."

"No. The goal isn't to stress you further. We'll talk about it later. Put that homework away, and go to bed early, and sleep in."

When McGonagall had left, Hermione said, "Counselors?"

Whenever he'd done anything to make the teacher call home, whether it was acting out or just something 'weird,' his Aunt and Uncle had told the teacher he was troubled, and then it hadn't been long before he was sent to the counselor.

Sometimes Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had even been preemptive, talking about him at open-house or parent-teacher conferences, ruining him in the eyes of teachers before he'd even done anything.

Except it hadn't worked with Ms. Chamelin. She'd said, "Look kid, I don't give a screw, simplify this fraction."

Harry said, "Nothing really. I got called in a couple times when strange things happened due to unintentional magic."

"Harry. You've told me too much to quite believe that."

"I don't want to talk about it tonight."

"Next time, say that first. I haven't lied to you once."

The silence hung, uncomfortable, till they made their goodnights.

#

#

Harry woke the next morning around 11, stroked Hedwig a little, and went to the common room. Hermione was already there, also in her pajamas, and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

They played a card game, talked a bit, and Hermione said, "Christmas presents. That's coming up. We should go to the school store and see what they have."

Harry said, "There's a catalog so you can order what they don't have." He'd gotten a few books there. "What do you want?"

"A music box."

"Same."

"We each ought to get something for Ron, or we could go in together on something expensive, and something small for all the other first-year Gryffindors, and for the Gryffindor prefects, and something for all our teachers. Just a card, and something that costs a couple knuts. Something bigger for McGonagall since she's Head of House. Should we get something for Lupin? Or maybe just you?"

Harry said, "That's great, but let's not do it today. We were ordered to relax."

Hermione said, "After lunch, we should visit Ron in the hospital wing. We should get him flowers."
"He won't care about the flowers. He's Ron. Relax, I know it's hard, but relax. Let's play another hand."

The Weasley twins came in through the portrait hole. They had the day off too, and had already been to see Ron, though Ron had slept the whole time. They played a hand together.

"Where's Percy?" said Hermione.

George said, "He likes walking. Probably on his tenth circuit of the castle by now."

After changing, they went to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry had been half expecting Malfoy to mock them for being so delicate they had to miss class, but Malfoy was busy complaining to Snape about going home for Christmas.

"It's not fair," said Malfoy. "Potter's going to stay at school and practice, you know he will. When I come back he'll be ahead of me."

Snape said, "Very commendable, but your parents want you home for Christmas, and that's that. Write to your father if you don't like it."

"But-"

"That's enough Draco. You're already testing my patience by bothering me at meal. Get to your seat."

Instead, Draco went to Sally Su and offered to do an interview for the school paper like Potter had, and she laughed him off.

Harry grinned while stuffing his face, made hungry by having skipped breakfast, and Hermione said they could use it to shut Malfoy up if he talked about 'that thing' again.

Percy, Fred and George planned to see Ron again later, so after lunch Harry and Hermione went themselves to the Hospital Wing, and stopped in the doorway.

A tenth of the Hospital Wing's floor space was being taken up by what looked like a natural hot spring. The steam from it was fogging the windows, and Sirius Black floated face down in it.

"He's not drowning?" said Harry.

Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting at Ron's bedside, said, "No dearies. Just sleeping. It's a healing spring. He can breathe the water in all he likes. I'd hop in too, good for my back, but the boys won't let me."

The boys were the black man who'd come before with Fudge, and Mr. Lupin, who looked as if he could stand a dip in the spring himself.

Ron was sleeping, so Harry and Hermione went to Lupin.

"Are you feeling better?" said Harry.

"Just like recovering from a cold. Say hello to Mr. Shacklebolt."

"Hello," said Harry.

Shacklebolt shook his hand. "Harry." Then Hermione's hand. "And you're Hermione Granger?"

She said, "Someone told you Harry Potter is friends with a girl named Hermione Granger."

"No. Someone told me there's a first-year muggle-born girl at Hogwarts who cast an incorporeal Patronus, and her name is Hermione Granger.

Hermione blushed, till Shacklebolt said, "The name of Lily Evans Potter was even invoked. But yes, it was mentioned that she and Harry Potter are attached at the hip."That put Hermione off for some reason, and they sat at Ron's bedside. Mrs. Weasley shook Ron's shoulder.

That put Hermione off for some reason, and they sat at Ron's bedside. Mrs. Weasley shook Ron's shoulder.

"You don't have to wake him."

"He'll want to see you."

Ron blinked, sat up, and stared at his hands.

"Hey Ron," said Harry.

Ron stared at his hands.

Hermione said, "Everyone's worried about you."

Still nothing.

Mrs. Weasley said, "He needs time. They're moving him to Saint Mungo's tonight. Sirius too."

At the words 'Saint Mungo's,' Ron's head snapped up and his mouth started. "It's really cool really can't wait to go to Saint Mungo's I saw Dumbledore setting up this spring but the spring in Saint Mungo's was imported from the old healing springs of Bath, they took the best one which is super cool, has lots of calcium and sulfate. Better than that I hear they might get that the Platonic Healing Spring on loan from Bangladesh. If they do I really hope they let me splash in it."

Mrs. Weasley said, "Ron honey, it's not for mental maladies."

"Maybe if I stub my toe really bad. Really, really bad. On a dark magic crack in the sidewalk. It's the Platonic Hotspring, it's worth it."

Madam Pomfrey's assistant clucked. "He should be improving, but this is worse than the funk."

Mrs. Weasley said, "Don't worry. This is how my Ron is supposed to be."

Ron said, "Platonic objects are wicked cool. Like, imagine a ball. It's 3-D, and every point on it should be equidistant to the center. That's what a ball is. But no matter how hard you try, it won't be perfect. You can always measure a little more precisely, find an imperfection. Fix the imperfection, measure more precisely, find a smaller imperfection. A real object is never perfect. Every ball we've ever made is really just something 'close enough to being a ball that we gave up and called it a ball.' And wow. Are you guys actually listening to me?"

Harry said, "It's hardly been a day, but I kind of missed this."

"Cool. So even though there isn't a real object that's a perfect ball, we know what a ball is. It exists as an abstraction. So you summon the Abstract Object from, like, Abstraction Land, except we call it Platonic space, and then you have a truly, truly perfect ball. The Platonic Ball. The only one, which can be really useful. Maybe not with balls, but, for example, we got so we understood broomsticks well enough to summon the Platonic Broomstick, which is actually better than the best possible broomstick that could really be made-it's the abstract ideal of a broomstick. To be clear, it's not 'infinitely good' or anything like that. It's the best possible if there were no such thing as technical or practical difficulties, so it's maybe not quite as cool as it sounds like. Anyway, the Platonic Broomstick goes faster than light if you want, but not back in time and the broomstick companies were forced to sign a contract where they have to take turns studying it so there won't be a monopoly. That's why the Nimbus series is a step forward, they figured something out from studying the Platonic Broomstick, and they patented it."

Ron took a drink of water. "There's tons of them. The Platonic Wand: that's been lost or destroyed and the Hash with it. It'll take a randomly long number of moments to get a new Hash, so basically forever, we can't resummon it, Platonic Tea Kettle, the Platonic Quill, the Platonic Philosopher's Stone, that's in Britain actually, Platonic handbag, you can put a world in it, Platonic Invisibility Cloak, that's been lost or Hash-Destroyed. Some of them have been deemed unsafe and Hash-Destroyed on purpose actually, like the Platonic Edged-Weapon and the Platonic Water Cooler. The Platonic Hat is in Derbyshire, I'm on the waiting list to try it on, it always looks good and your ears never get cold."

Harry did stop listening eventually, but didn't feel right openly ignoring Ron like he usually did, so he was a bit bored till Ron trailed off mid-sentence.

Hermione said, "Are you alright?"

"No." Ron shivered." Everything looks scary again. I know I'm being stupid because of the after effects of being Confunded so badly, but do you think we can trust it? The air. It's like a diamond, all clear and sparkly, it could just decide one day in the middle of our lungs to start being solid like a diamond."

"No," said an old but very firm voice. "The air would have to become very, very cold."

The ancient white-haired woman who entered was noticeably taller than a house-elf. Face wrinkled like a dried peach, wearing a brightly patterned coat and silk socks and wood sandals. Professor Orphiel, who taught Advanced Potions and was rarely at the High Table during meals. Harry mostly saw her walking slowly through the hallways, her steps so smooth they seemed like a slow motion glide, hands clasped behind her back, reminding him of a water bird.

Ron said, "What if someone put a giant needle on the equator to get energy like the earth is a giant flywheel and the earth stopped spinning and we were on the side facing away from the sun. It would get cold."

Professor Orphiel's finger flattened the end of his nose, and Ron looked cross-eyed at it. "Little baby, if the earth stops spinning, we'll just start it up again."

With Ron still staring at the end of his nose, Professor Orphiel went to the edge of the spa. "And how is young Sirius?"
Sirius flipped over without any movement on his part, still sleeping. He could've passed for dead, but looked less like a half-finished taxidermy job than before.

Madam Pomfrey's Assistant said, "Professor Orphi-" but stopped, thinking better of it.

Lupin said, "He shouldn't be disturbed."

"Healing always was your second worst subject, so if you're a Master of it now, you must be nearly a polymagus. Congratulations."

"I'm not-I've improved at healings, but-"

"Good. Be quiet. Sirius, wake up."

Sirius slept.

Her voice turned sharper. "Sirius Orion Black, you've got a major report on Sluffle Draughts due tomorrow and you haven't written a word of it."

Sirius's eyes popped open and he flailed in the water. "Wha, I-" he stopped, taking in where he was.

"Got your heart going, didn't it," said Professor Orphiel. "It's one of the most common nightmares. Everyone has it, years and years after finishing school. Ten years in Azkaban, nightmares every night, did you have that nightmare even once?"

Shaking his head looked to be an effort.

"You ought to be sleeping, but your godson has the wiggles. I expect he'll be running off to play hopscotch with light beams soon and you're being transferred tonight."

"I don't need-"

"Need has nothing to do with it. Godson, come."

Harry knelt at the edge of the spring. Sirius stretched out his hand, and Harry took it, and did most of the holding. It felt as if there was no muscle in the hand. Just skin over bone.

Sirius said, "You look like James."

"Thank you."

"But you have your mother's eyes."

He nodded, unsure what to say.

Sirius must have been unsure what to say too, because they were silent until Sirius found the question adults always asked of students. "How's school going?"

"It's good. I'm in the practice room a lot. But Professor McGonagall gave us the day off."

"McGonagall is still here? Good teacher. She was Head of House way back when I was a student."

"Wow." It wasn't wow. It was about fifteen years.

"And Snape is a Professor now? How's he?"

"Mean sometimes. But afterward I always wonder if he's being mean for a reason. Like Lupin, but more."

Sirius's eyes widened. "Lupin's mean?"

"Not exactly. Just a little..." He couldn't describe it.

Lupin said, "It's unaccountable, Padfoot, but I've developed a forbidding atmosphere."

Harry and Sirius talked a little more about the trivialities of school, and Sirius fell back to sleep.

Harry stood. What had he been expecting? An instant connection? The sudden forming of a family bond? To somehow, magically, have never lived in a cupboard?

His hand was wet from holding Sirius's hand, and he did not want to wipe it. The man floating in the hot spring had spent ten years in prison for a crime he hadn't committed, had escaped it to keep safe a godson who didn't remember him, had camped in the woods during winter while hiding from dementors, and when it had seemed like the nightmare was finally over, he'd been nearly killed by a Confunded eleven-year-old with a Dark Magic knife.

Harry had missed the chance to say something important because it had felt awkward.

Harry said, "Mr. Lupin, what would Sirius Black like for Christmas?"

Lupin startled, then laughed, more genuinely happy than Harry seen him before. "I'll talk with him later. But he could do with a card, and a nice wool sweater, a memory snifter, or a dream catcher. We'll go to the school store, and I'll help you pick something out."

"When people are in the hospital, muggles often send cards and flowers. Is that-"

"Different types of flowers, often, but yes, wizards do the same. If you'll come with me to the student store I'll help you arrange it."

#

They resumed their normal schedule on Tuesday. Percy was still quiet, but the Fred and George serenaded Harry with a song about how he was the first man alive to make 'Ask my mum,' sound cool. The Daily Prophet had an edited version of their interview with The Hogwarts Herald on the front page.

He'd forgotten about that, and snatched it up eagerly. He'd thought up the bit about his mother beforehand and had thought it would be cool, but his jaw clenched as he read the piece. "Hermione, they took you out."

"No, I have a line." She pointed. The one where she'd compared their ages to the other first-years.

"Having just that one line makes you sound like some weird Harry Potter fangirl who memorizes random factoids. And see, this bit about Dumbledore putting the troll to sleep, instead of writing what you said they summarize it, and it looks like I'm the one who said it."

"You said a lot of it."

"Half of it."

"I don't know why you're angry. You're Harry Potter. You're a celebrity. The school paper is one matter, but of course The Daily Prophet would prefer 'An Interview With Harry Potter' to 'An Interview with Harry Potter and his Muggle-Born Friend."

"They shouldn't." He crumpled the paper.

On the way to Defense Class, Hermione said, "I'm glad the twins seemed fine."

"I guess. They'll be better tomorrow."

"Better?"

Harry said, "Weren't they really straining and pretending even today? They didn't laugh much and their shoulders were tight."

"They were?"

"Weren't they?" Harry began to wonder if he'd felt it wrong.

When they walked into Defense class, Malfoy confused him further by saying, "Not holding hands?"

A few Slytherins laughed, and Harry frowned, trying to work out how that related to either Ron or the interview. He and Hermione tugged on each other's arms sometimes, but Harry didn't think they'd ever held hands.

"Granger, I hear you rode him like a bucking broomstick." More laughter. Hermione sat, but Harry stood, staring at Malfoy.

"What is he..."

Hermione pulled on his arm, making him sit.

Malfoy said, "See, holding hands," and began to sing, "Harry and Hermione, sitting in a tree, K I S-"

Hermione said, "You know that's a muggle song."

"No it isn't."

"I've heard it at muggle schools, and there aren't any wizard children leaving Hogwarts to spread it there. You got that from muggle-borns, guaranteed. But continue, Draco. It's a little weird, but if you want to throw the class a concert, I won't stop you."

"Just saying, Granger, where's your saddle? Potter, did she dig in with spurs?"

Harry asked Hermione, "This is about when you rode me?"

Even the Gryffindors laughed, and Hermione hit his shoulder. "Don't say it like that."

"But-"

"Shhh. Later."

Malfoy said, "It's good though, you better get busy making kids before the crazy red-head kills you."

Quirrell glanced at his watch, stood up, and said "Mr. Malfoy, I'll have to talk to Ms. Blank about your detention schedule and see when you can fit me in. I'm thinking three for that remark. Now quiet in the back. Pass in your homework."

Harry watched other students pass in homework, feeling odd.

Quirrell strolled the room. "Who remembers what we talked about last class? I'm always forgetting these things. Parvati?"

"Chizpurfles."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. "That was it. Chizpurfles. How do I get rid of them and why do I want to? Goyle?"

"Ummmmmmm."

"No, we don't meditate. We first quarantine them. How? Finnegan?"

Class felt longer than normal. When it finally ended, Hermione hurried out, and Harry followed.

Harry said, "What were they talking about?"

"It's like you're making up for Ron not being here. Weren't you friends with any girls at your muggle school?"

"No." He hadn't been friends with anyone really, except for fourth grade when he'd gotten along with Corey.

"Riding someone can mean something else, sort of."

"What?"

Hermione whispered in his ear, "I think it's sex."

"Oh." That explained it. "But we weren't even positioned that way when you rode me."

She pinched him. "Don't say it like that."

"Don't pinch me."

"Sorry."

He took a deep breath, simplified some fractions in his head, and by the end of the day his fingernails had left deep marks in his palms. Though the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs didn't have the same bite, their other classes passed with different versions of the same jibes about Ron and being ridden by Hermione, and his old standbys for dealing with bullies and being teased wouldn't be safe to try at Hogwarts.

Even George joined in on it at lunch, suggesting that if they were still supposed to relax, they might go on a nice relaxing ride through the woods."

"We'll have to wait it out," said Hermione.

Harry thought they'd have to kill it, but didn't say so.

They parted when classes were over for the day and it was time for Harry to see Hagrid. The big man looked long into

Harry's mind, a silence that lasted minutes, then said only, "Don't be cruel, don't hurt anyone, don't break too many rules, and learn to unwind," before giving a lesson on teaching animals many-stepped procedures. Harry taught a crow to open the door for Fang and close it once Fang had left.

Coming back from the session, Harry saw Hermione at the end of a corridor. She waved for him to follow and turned the corner.

When he turned it, she was at the end of the next corridor, and she waved again for him to follow.

"Hermione! Wait up!" He broke into a jog, but when he turned the corner she was as far as before.

She yelled from the end of the hall, "Hurry up," lengthening her strides, her walk somehow faster than his run, up two staircases to the third floor, laughing. Harry wondered if they were playing tag.

He was getting out of breath, but Hermione must've been too, because he was catching up. She entered an empty classroom next to the banned corridor, a classroom with theater seating, and ran down the steps to the front of the room.

Harry stopped halfway down the steps.

She faced away from him, unmoving, yet her clothing roiled like it was in the wind.

The door shut and the lock shicked.

Harry drew his wand.

The figure turned.

Harry screamed, stepped back, caught his heel on a step, and fell.

The other Harry smiled. His face, his eyes, his hair, a perfect match to what he saw in the mirror except it didn't follow his moves.

The other Harry hadn't taken out a wand.

The other Harry could change appearance.

The other Harry wasn't smiling like Dudley burning beetles with a magnifying glass. More like Mrs. Figg smiling while a kitten ran from its tail.

Dumbledore had promised him another tutor.

Harry stood, hiding the trembling in his knees, brushed himself off, though of course there wasn't any dust to brush off, and said, "Those clothes being too big hide it, but you're a little taller than me, aren't you?"

The other Harry laughed a free, full-bellied laugh that Harry was sure he'd never made, "Well spotted. It's hard to be so small." The voice sounded how Harry knew he sounded.

The other Harry changed, hair lengthening, features sharpening, developing a little curve to the chest, but the same eyes, the same face with sharper features.

Reminding himself that Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, Harry took a step forward and shook her hand. "Hello Harriet. This is even creepier."

That laugh again, and he or she or whatever shook his hand. "Quite the kid."

The hand he was shaking grew, and the girl did too, features changing, hair turning bright pink, a woman about Shelby's age standing before him. "Wotcher Harry, call me Tonks."

:::

Maybe I'm in a mood, but this chapter disappoints me. Like a party popper that doesn't pop. But it was almost worse.

I wrote a big scene where Professor Orphiel plays counselor to Aitches by taking them to the cupboard under her stairs where she keeps the dreams people have given up on, like being happy or becoming space sailors, and Aitches have to encourage them & send them back into the universe to in order to weight the universe's probabilities toward such dreams becoming reality. It was based on the Langston Hughes poem "Dream Deferred," and as I write this, I'm no longer wondering why the scene sucked.

Ammonite fossils were reputed to have healing properties in many different cultures. They look like snakes coiled on themselves, and lots of cultures associated snakes with healing. I assume those facts are related. "Snakestone" is the most common traditional English name for ammonite fossils. I haven't noticed them in Potterverse.

Pretty much every culture attributes healing powers to hot springs, presumably because people in pretty much every culture have jumped into a hot spring and noticed their backs felt a lot better after.

I've taught, and whenever I think about Harry Potter, I think about how the workload of the core-class Professors must be downright inhumane even after you assume magic helps. So, Advanced and Beginning. That's been built in since the opening feast and has been mentioned multiple times, but now it starts to become significant.

I wrote a book called Monstrosity. Give it a try. Go to Amazon, select the books department, type in Monstrosity, and select the one by JLL (L, J L).

I talked to my mom today, and she thought reading Monstrosity was really stressful. She was reading it on the Kindle app on her phone, which she'd never done before, and she thought the "how much longer will this take you" time estimate at the bottom was a countdown clock till she lost access to the book.

I thought the "really chill" chapter would be just one chapter, but it seems the chill will extend one, maybe two chapters longer. I'm hopeful that they'll be among the best chapters though.