Chapter 11: Visions and Gifts
Harry's plan was to spend Christmas vacation in the practice room, on the dagarary court, and studying serious books on magic. Those plans derailed the very first day of vacation. He stayed up till five in the morning reading a book called Year with the Yeti that would've been exciting even if it hadn't been based on the author's real-life adventures. Then he slept in till past two in the afternoon. He took his time at a late lunch, read the comics section of The Daily Prophet going back a week, had dinner, and stayed in the bath until well after he'd gotten pruney.
At night he felt guilty over having gone a whole day without doing anything halfway productive, but he got over his guilt when he did it again the next day.
The third day, he felt an itch to do magic and spent an hour before lunch in the practice room, working on telekinesis charms and transfiguration.
Counting Harry, only twenty-seven of the 140 odd Gryffindors had stayed, and 19 of them were fifth or seventh-year students staying to study for their OWLs and NEWTs. Katie Bell, a second year, who had stayed to spend Christmas with her older sister, was the youngest after Harry.
Between sips of eggnog, Alphonse Gurruh, the sixth-year muggle-born, said he missed his younger siblings, and he kicked Harry and Katie Bell at dagarary after lunch. When that was getting tiresome, Katie said she was supposed to learn Petrificus Totalus, the Full Body-Bind Curse, and Harry said he wanted to learn it too, which drew a raised eyebrow from Alphonse, but also an offer to let them practice it on him at the practice room.
Harry managed to petrify Alphonse's left side, and Alphonse countered it wordlessly, which was what he was working on, then Katie Bell petrified Harry, which was not on the program, and laughed so hard it took her five tries to work the counter charm.
This, Harry decided, was more reasonable than his daydream of stuffing two months of practice into two weeks. He'd study, but mostly he'd play with wands, like how Hagrid had said his dad had turned magic into a game.
Lupin came into the practice room and sat at a chair in the back. Harry waved and sent Lupin a questioning look, and Lupin motioned for him to keep at it.
Harry finally stopped an hour later having successfully cast The Full Body-Bind eleven times in a row, which wizards seemed to think was the number to aim for. He was sweating hard and could use a shower, but it'd been a lot less serious than his practices with Hermione usually were.
Alphonse tried to ruffle his hair, and Harry jerked aside. Harry said, "Sorry, we were just dodging so much in dagarary."
Lupin motioned him over as Katie and Alphonse left.
Lupin said, "Having fun, Harry?"
He nodded.
"Good." They talked about school, Lupin congratulating Harry on being sixth in the year, and laughing when Harry tried and failed to suppress a grimace. Lupin would be staying; Emmeline Vance and Mrs. Weasley had left after Sirius's capture, but Lupin had signed his contract for the year and didn't have anything better to do, and Dumbledore would rather have extra help than give Lupin a partial buyout, though Lupin would be absent frequently caring for Sirius, whose re-trial wouldn't start until Pettigrew's had concluded, probably sometime in late January to early February.
Alastor Moody was also staying. "The vicious old goat is having more fun swooping in on the advanced Defense classes and harassing the Dueling Club than he ever did training stiff-lipped Auror candidates," Lupin said.
He refused to explain how Sirius had gotten inside Hogwarts ("that's a secret") or what he'd meant weeks ago when saying Sirius Black had had great faults as a teenager. "Now that I know he isn't a villainous murderer, his youthful failures are his to share or not."
He ended Harry's questioning by going to an open stretch of wall and moving a few chairs out of the way. Lupin taught Harry a game a lot like muggle racquetball except the ball was made of magic and you hit it by getting the tip of your wand close enough to it that you could control it.
Harry sweat till his socks were wet, and when his legs started to tremble Lupin called the game off and took two packages in scarlet wrapping paper out of a pocket much too small to have held them. One was about the size of a muggle disposable camera, but the other would come up past Harry's knees if set on the ground, and was wide and thick as well.
"Christmas presents," said Lupin. "From Sirius and I. But I'll be with Sirius on Christmas day."
Harry didn't know where to put his hands. He wasn't used to getting gifts. "Should I open them now?"
Lupin said, "Open them on Christmas with the others. More fun that way. They come with letters. Read the full letter and think a moment before telling people what the presents are." Lupin smiled slightly.
"Sirius got my Christmas present, right?" The memory snifter.
"It's waiting wrapped on the sill of his hospital room."
Harry said, "I got you something too. It's in my room."
Lupin walked with Harry to the Gryffindor dorm and waited outside the portrait as his duties no longer gave him reason to violate the "students only" rule.
Harry came out with a package wrapped in gold paper-Gryffindors tended to wrap in Gryffindor colors-and gave it to Lupin.
"You probably won't like it or you already have one," said Harry. Hidden inside was a bracelet that held your wand, and it didn't matter how long the wand was or how short your arm.
Lupin took it. "Both are possible of the object, but not of the gift." Lupin must've seen Harry's confusion, because he added, "If you get an object you don't want, remember to be happy for the gift, and if you can't manage that, at least look happy.
Harry nodded. He understood about pretending to be happy if he got something he didn't want. Dudley had done it from time to time.
#
#
The few days remaining before Christmas passed easily. He played at magic, read more Lockhart books, and talked with the older students more than he ever had before, even though most of them were busy with studying. With Alice Bell supervising (really, reading a book on a chair by the field) Harry and Katie went out flying and played catch with the quaffle till they got too cold and went inside.
A reporter managed to visit Ron in the hospital and was treated to a long discourse on what Ron had found out about treating victims of the Confundus charm and a lecture on why the Chudley Cannons were lovable because of their hopelessness, not in spite of it. Even edited, Harry couldn't read the interview without smiling.
Christmas day came, and Harry woke early. It was the first Christmas he'd viewed without dread. It was traditional, Percy said, for everyone at the dorms over break to open their presents together, though anyone who had an excessive amount was expected to open a portion privately so no one else felt bad. He had four, which wasn't excessive.
He was nearly to the door when he spotted a squashy package by his bed. Written on it in big black letters were the words, OPEN THIS PRIVATELY.
Harry's first thought was that he wanted to open it, his second that he wanted to know how it had been put into his room during the night, and his third that it might be a trap from one of the Voldemort sympathizers who supposedly would like to kill him.
He tried the few low-level disillusionment and anti-jinxing spells he knew, and nothing happened, but then, nothing would if the curse on it were hidden by a wizard more competent than a bright first-year.
He thought of getting a prefect or a professor to make sure it was safe before he opened it, but noticed the card on the top of the package.
"Wingardium Leviosa,"said Harry, lifting the card up, then needing about five minutes of wand fiddling to get it out of the envelope and open.
He went to owl eyes, and read the card from the other end of the room.
Your father left this in my possession before he died. You're too young to have it, but it's too easy to imagine why Harry Potter might need to disappear. Use it well.
A Very Merry Christmas to you.
Harry used Wingardium Leviosa on a bit of the wrapping, and the wrapping tore. Not much. Whatever was inside was very light. He shook it around till the wrapping tore enough, and the long, shimmering silver cloth fell out.
He held that up with a levitation spell, and it didn't seem special, except for being beautiful and thin and very light. It didn't look dangerous.
He wondered why anyone would send him his dad's old bedsheet, and he grabbed it.
His hand disappeared, and the cloth too.
Harry dropped it, and a silver cloth fell on the floor.
He picked it up, pulled it around himself, and looked in the mirror.
His head floated in the air.
He pulled it over his head, and could more or less see through it, just like looking through any thin, perforated cloth.
"It's an invisibility bedsheet," whispered Harry.
A pounding on the door, Percy's voice. "Harry, it's time for presents."
"Don't come in," he yelled. "I'm naked."
Percy said, "Why? You're supposed to open presents in your nightclothes. It's tradition."
"I forgot. I'm putting my shirt back on. See you in a moment."
He hid the invisibility bedsheet under his pillow, surprised by how small it wadded up, and hurried down the stairs to the common room, wondering who could've gotten it for him. He already had presents from Sirius and Lupin. Maybe a professor? Hagrid? It might be some other friend of his parents entirely, and maybe that friend had asked a school employee to help give it to him. However it had been done, slipping it inside his room at night must've been done with the assistance of Hogwarts staff or students.
Dumbledore, even.
Or, any wizard who had a house-elf could've done it. They could apparate inside Hogwarts.
He sat with the others, cross-legged in front of the tree. Instead of candles, the ends of the branches glowed with a yellow flame that was only ever warm, and some of the ornaments were birds that flew around the room when startled.
Everyone took a present to start, and Harry took the one in bright blue wrapping paper.
The invisibility bedsheet was very nice, but it was a mystery, not a gift. His first real Christmas present ever would be from Hermione Granger.
He wondered what it would be. Music boxes had turned out to be expensive and they'd agreed not to get them for each other, but he'd gotten her one anyway and he hoped she wouldn't be angry.
Alice said, "Go," and all the students opened at once.
Four books, all of them quite thin. Three of them used-otherwise four books would be too expensive.
Twelve Nights a Year, the first book was called.
By Lily and James Potter.
The book's back said it was about werewolf rights.
The second book was a collection of Lily's papers on Ancestral Curses, the third was a collection of Lily's essays on why muggle-borns didn't weaken magical purity, and the last was an account of a time when Voldemort had placed a curse on a town so water dissolved all the wrong things in your body, and the Ministry's curse breakers were at it for days before Lily and James Potter showed up and took it apart in two hours.
When asked what he'd gotten, he waved a book through the air, too quickly for the words on the cover to be seen, mouthed, "Hermione," while rolling his eyes, because of course Hermione would buy books for presents, and slipped them in his bag.
He didn't want to be opening presents any longer. He wanted to be upstairs reading his new books. Written by his mother. His father hadn't been one for writing. But he'd helped with the werewolf one.
Then he got another present, and didn't recognize the wrapping. The tag said it was from Katie and Alice Bell and Alphonse Gurruh.
He turned to Katie and Alphonse, who were looking at him expectantly. "I'm sorry. I didn't get you presents, I didn't know you'd give me one, Hermione and I got one for Alice because she's a prefect, but-"
"It's fine," said Alphonse, and from his smile it seemed to be. "Aren't you going to open it?"
It was something like a spinning top supporting half a glass ball.
"It's a sneakoscope," said Alice. "Considering everything that's happened, we thought you might have a use for it."
Alice opened her own present from Harry and Hermione. A chocolate frog, three quills, and a card. About what they'd gotten all the prefects.
Really, Hermione was the one who'd done it. Harry had given her a few galleons and said, "Yes," when asked if candy was a good idea.
The next present was from Lupin. He peeled the wrapping, and found what looked like a case for glasses, opened them, found a pair of round lensed spectacles, and stared. He'd worn glasses when he was younger, till Dudley had broken them when he was 9. He'd been thinking about how he was going to get them fixed, wishing desperately that he didn't need glasses, then suddenly he hadn't anymore.
Harry supposed that had been his first magical transformation.
Harry opened the parchment folded at the bottom of the case.
Harry,
These glasses belonged to your father, and your grandfather, and your great-great grandmother, and James didn't know how many greats before.They already belonged to you, so my present is the (extensive) paperwork required to have them released.
The Potters have given the spectacles different names over the years-the Really Nice Glasses, The Very Clear and Excellent Glasses, The Glasses the Very Nice Lady Gave Ancient Gran,(there ought to be an origin story there, but James never found it)and The Glasses of Cheating at Quidditch (James took them off for official matches)but mostly they're called the Potter Glasses.
The spectacles adjust to the wearer's vision.They fit anyone, are nearly unbreakable, don't get wet, don't fall off, and never need cleaning. They adjust to brightness--look at the sun with them and see what happens--clarify details, expand your peripheral vision and zoom in and out as you wish. They see through illusions and make the hidden visible. The bubbly parts at the top outside corners can be used for scrying in the place of a mirror or crystal ball, though James never had much interest in that art. Most of those features, and others you'll discover on your own, require skill to use--have fun learning.
Merry Christmas,
Remus Lupin.
Harry stuck them on. His vision blurred, and when it cleared, was sharper than before, almost like he was using owl eyes except colors were clearer than with human eyes. The Christmas tree, which had just been generally green before, was at least ten distinct shades of green, and the fires and some of the ornaments twinkled with a color that was a lot like green also, but wasn't. His eyes watered, and he looked at the Post Script at the bottom of Lupin's letter.
P.S.The glasses take getting used to. Don't push yourself.
Alice said, "Looking good, Harry. They suit you."
Percy said, "Are those-"
Alice elbowed him and shook her head. "Animagi glasses, Harry? Wear them when you transform, and you won't lose any sense of color."
Harry nodded.
"Most animagi wear them constantly, in case they want to transform. You might do the same."
Harry wondered whether the glasses did that too. It sounded as if they did everything.
Next came Sirius's present, which, unwrapped looked slightly like a machine for making pasta dough. It also had a letter.
So far as I know, this is the world's only paper-maker and divider. James and I based it on something the muggle scientists said. Toss wood in, and two pieces of paper comes out. Boring enough, except the two pieces of paper are only one piece. They're entangled. Whatever you write on one appears on the other. James and I used it for passing notes in class, and used it later in the war. More secure than owls, at least so long as it stays secret.
Pranks and petty rule breaking are good for the soul, but don't cheat.
Merry Christmas, and Thanks for the Flowers
Sirius Black
Harry was offended by the bit about not cheating, but much more awed by the rest.
"It's a paper-maker," he told the others. "Paper's a muggle thing. It doesn't last as long as parchment, it doesn't hold enchantments well, and written incantations tend to burn through it, but it's easier to write on. I miss it. I'll use it for notes."
The writing on both letters was fading, and Harry re-read the descriptions hurriedly before the writing was replaced entirely by standard Christmas wishes.
From Ron, he got a wool sweater, maroon, along with a card that said, I know it's lame my mum did this, but I've been incapacitated, Merry Christmas, I tried helping with the knitting but knitting's hard.
It had a small Gryffindor emblem over the heart, the letters 'HP' monogrammed above it. Very similar to what Percy often wore, except Percy's said, 'PW.'
Percy said, "One of my mother's knit sweaters. You'll find it fits well at a variety of sizes, keeps you comfortable at a variety of temperatures, doesn't snag and hardly gets dirty." Percy passed his wand over it, muttered a few phrases, and looked surprised.
"What?" said Harry.
"It's a very rugged sweater," said Percy, but Harry was hardly listening.
He'd only expected four presents, and there were five, six counting the invisibility bedsheet. Overwhelmed, but warm.
Then Percy gave him a card that had an off-hours hall pass inside. "Single use. Don't make too much trouble with it, and don't tell Fred and George I gave you one."
From Welch Shirby he got a pair of 'wedding rings' addressed to Harry and Hermione. Welch was laughing while Harry opened the box, and laughed louder when Harry threw the wedding rings at him.
When no one was looking, Harry slipped them in his bag, feeling very odd.
He'd never spent any time thinking about how Hermione looked, and though a couple other boys had mentioned it, Harry wasn't sure what a wet dream was except Neville had to change his underwear after, but he and Hermione were very good friends, and in a year or two, when he had hair in new places...
That still wasn't anything like wedding rings.
He shoved them to the bottom of his bag and decided to never ever think about them again.
From Hagrid, he had a note, and it was disorienting to see that, unlike Ron, the man didn't write how he talked.
Merry Christmas, Harry. I was going to get you a present, but Professor Trewalney told me you'd ask me for something shortly after Christmas, and I should wait till then. I'm looking forward to finding out what it is you need.
Trewalney wouldn't tell me that if it didn't matter. Don't start thinking about whatever toy you'd like but didn't get.
Hagrid.
A few of the older students had chipped in on a dream-maker, and they didn't mind at all that he hadn't gotten presents for them. A warm glow had replaced his worry.
Percy said, "Not a bad Christmas, Harry?"
Harry said, "It's the best Christmas ever."
Percy said, "I suppose you've only ever had muggle presents before."
Harry nodded, looking over the Dream Maker. "Usually I get socks. And underwear."
Percy said, "Well, yes. What else?"
Harry gave the Dream Maker a rattle, a vision of a verdant forest washed over him. He didn't notice the edge in Percy's voice. "Last year I got a clothes hanger too. And a new toothbrush."
"Is that normal? For muggles?"
Harry looked up, saw everyone was staring, and came to his senses.
"That's not even close to normal for muggles," said Alphonse Gurruh, who was muggle-born. "Are they very poor, your Aunt and Uncle?"
Harry thought of saying yes, but shook his head.
Alphonse said, "Maybe they don't celebrate Christmas? Different religion?"
The first Christmas he remembered. Dudley getting five action figures and a toy gun. Harry getting socks. Then Dudley getting a truck, hot wheels, a remote control car. Harry getting underwear. Getting angrier and angrier as Dudley got more and more. Screaming his head off as a three-year old, spanked for doing so. Harry getting quieter as the years passed and blended together. Why even make him come into the living room for this? Why make him watch Dudley open all those presents? At the age of eight, with a clean rush of shock, realizing it was a message. 'Dudley is our son, and you're an unwelcome guest. Have socks and underwear, and be grateful.'
Harry said, "For my Aunt and Uncle, raising me was more about duty. That's fine. That's their right. There's nothing wrong with that. I hope you won't mention this to anyone."
Alice Bell touched his forehead, a sensation like a hundred spiders crawling over him. She said, "They literally treated you like a house-elf."
"Hey! Was that legilimency?" It hadn't felt like it. "Don't do it on me."
"It was divination."
"Don't do that either. Besides, everything's fine now. Professor McGonagall made them give me a room and she put furniture in it, I still don't know how."
Alice's voice was distant. "You slept in the cupboard under the stairs. It was small, so you slept with your knees pulled up."
"I told you not to do that!" He was standing and yelling. Bad things happened when you yelled. He shoved his wrist in his mouth to stop himself. Sucked in deep breaths through his nose. "I'm sorry for yelling. But please don't do that." He was crying again. He hadn't cried for years, but lately it happened at the drop of a hat.
Percy said, "It's okay Harry. Alice won't don't do that again, right Alice?"
"Right. Sorry Harry. I won't do it again."
"Would you like a chocolate frog?" said Percy, handing him a chocolate frog box.
They were trying to calm him down, so now was no time to say that he still felt weird eating chocolate frogs. They tried to get away.
Percy said, "You get along with Ron so well, would you like to stay at my house for a few weeks during the summer? You'd have to share a room with Ron, but you're used to that."
"I wouldn't want to be any trouble."
"No trouble at all. I'm sure Mum and Dad would love to have you. But no, you don't have to decide now. I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore first. But think about it."
Even looking at his own feet, his expanded field of vision showed the stares of his house mates. He took the glasses off. "There's no reason to mention this to anyone, right?"
"Of course not," said Alice.
#
#
Harry cheered up as the day went. After breakfast he went to his dorm room and picked up all his presents one by one, examining them minutely, even making a few pieces of paper.
He started the book on werewolf rights. It had been written during the war, and his parents wrote that the reason lots of werewolves had been on Voldemort's side was that he'd offered them a low place in a hierarchy, whereas the Ministry didn't offer the werewolves any place at all.
It shouldn't have been interesting, but he was greedy for every word.
When Percy told him it was time for the Christmas feast, he said to go without him, and Percy said Harry had to come.
He left the book. He didn't want to be seen reading it, and it didn't take long to feel happy about going to the Christmas feast.
The food was excellent and plentiful even by Hogwarts standards, and the wizard crackers were nearly another Christmas morning themselves, his favorites being a chess set and a flute that played music when the wind blew through it.
The staff loosened up. Dumbledore exchanged his wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, Professor Flitwick laughed so hard at something Hagrid had said he fell out of his chair, and after four glasses of wine, Professor McGonagall turned red, laughed a lot, and turned Professor's Quirrell's turban into a stoat. It ran around the table, took a pear, and, with a sigh, Quirrell turned it back into turban, with a yellow jewel where the half-eaten pear had been, and wrapped it carefully about his head.
Harry's attention was occupied by a group of headless ghosts playing something like polo with their heads while Nearly-Headless Nick looked on, so he didn't notice that Professors Dumbledore, Snape and Trewalney were all behind Quirrell when Professor McGonagall Transfigured his turban, nor did he notice how carefully they looked at the back of Quirrell's head, nor that all they saw was hair.
#
#
That night, he finished the werewolf book. The next morning he read the short account of his parents' breaking the curse Voldemort had put on a village, (they'd done it not with great power, but with great understanding) and he started on the collection of his mother's papers on Ancestral Curses, and understood little but the introduction, and not all of that.
He went to see Hagrid, who thanked him for the card, candies, and dog treats (for Fang) and looked hard at Harry's new glasses.
"Legilimens,"said Hagrid, and Harry hurriedly raised his occlumency shields, ignoring the unexpected way his glasses turned purple. The attack on his mind was weaker than normal. He'd never held Hagrid all the way out before, but this time-no, Hagrid was slipping in.
Hagrid broke the connection. "Those were yer da's," said Hagrid. "They make eye-contact legilimency harder, and combine that with being an occlumens in the first place..."
Harry said, "Will many people recognize them?"
"A few. They look different than when yer father wore them. If anyone does recognize 'em, yeh can truthfully say that they're not, as some of the wilder rumors claim, Platonic. Just the result of very rare materials and centuries of enchantment by very skilled wizards and witches. Including some Death Wishes, I'd wager."
After that, they had a very interesting lesson on controlling ants. Harry made progress adjusting their trails, and Hagrid sent him into gales of laughter at the end by getting the ants to do square dancing.
Harry stepped inside the castle and decided it was past time to really explore the place. He hadn't done that the way most other students had. First he'd been so excited to do magic he'd spent all his free-time in the practice room, then he'd been frightened by the troll and Black and the weird whispering, but that all seemed distant now.
Plus, he had to try out the Potter Glasses.
He'd hoped that if he crossed his eyes just right, everything in the school would shimmer with magic, and he would see the forms of the spells in some strange way that would give him a new and profound understanding of magic that would make the impossible easy.
Actually, he saw more details and more distinct shades of the colors than he was used to. True, most of the school had a tint of the color that wasn't green, and from what had more and what had less, he guessed the 'not green' color meant 'magic,' but finding out that ghosts and moving staircases were more magical than the floor wasn't exactly a shock.
Harry settled on the tried and true exploration method of opening door and seeing what was inside.
A swimming pool full of warm water and koi fish. A room filled with white couch cushions where everything floated, like in a spaceship-Harry spent half an hour gliding around it. A room full of racks of talking back scratchers, each insisting it would do the best job. And finally, a room that was locked.
He took a deep breath, and looked around to make sure no one was there. Fred and George had told him that trying to open anything locked was a part of Hogwarts' practical education program, and he actually believed them, but he was pretty sure detention for opening locked doors was also part of Hogwarts' academic education program.
"Alohamora,"whispered Harry, and the door unlocked.
Several desks turned up on each other, a wastepaper basket, and a long, tall mirror with an ornate frame and strange writing at the top. erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi.
He glanced at it, and did not see an 11 eleven-year-old boy with messy hair.
He saw a tall, masculine, muscular wizard with stubble on his cheeks and a hint of grey in his black hair, and Harry might not have recognized himself if not for the bright green eyes and the lightning bolt scar.
The man in the image was the greatest wizard in the world. Greater than Dumbledore, people said. Greater than Merlin. That wasn't shown, but he knew
Hermione was with him, all grown up, and they were still best-friends, and she was a great witch too, maybe the second greatest wizard or witch in the world, yet the gap between their powers was vast, and she gazed at him with big eyes full of trust and adulation.
He stared, minutes ticking by without his notice, mesmerized, lost in daydreams of being the best ever, and not by a little. Cure every disease, destroy Voldemort, if Voldemort still really was alive, defeat another great Dark Lord, become master of life and death, give magic to muggles, anything and everything.
It warm, but it made him slightly nauseous, like eating too much candy; he couldn't look away.
After nearly two hours had passed, the words at the top of the mirror clicked.
I show not your face, but your heart's desire.
Harry collapsed like his strings had been cut.
It was fine to be competitive, Hagrid had said. But was his greatest desire really just to be better than everyone else?
No wonder the Sorting Hat had wanted him in Slytherin.
No. It didn't have to mean the mirror showed you your greatest desire. It could be a random desire. Or whatever desire you were most afraid of. Or it could be a mirror of your desire, a reverse of desire, an 'erised,' or whatever.
Or the mirror lied.
His greatest desire, obviously, must be to meet his parents, to have grown up with them.
'Or maybe,' whispered a small, unwelcome part of him that might have been the germ of integrity, 'having had a family is your second greatest desire.'
Harry ran out of the room.
He wandered the castle half in a daze, thinking dramatic pre-teen thoughts about morality and what was worth living for, and found himself eventually at the sealed door guarding the Forbidden Third-Floor Corridor.
There was some practical education that couldn't go wrong. He'd seen three seventh-years from the ward breaking elective spend two futile hours on the thing while Professors Flitwick and Pents sat in easy chairs they'd summoned and laughed.
He tried Alohamora, then Finite Incantatem, then Alohamora again, and nothing budged. He felt satisfied. Nothing bad had happened, and he could say he'd at least attempted some petty, harmless rule breaking.
Just for fun, he pulled the magnet out of his expanded bag and tried it on the heavy steel lock the way he'd so often used used it on locks in the Dursley's house.
The door clicked open a crack. A stink escaped, and a sound of heavy breathing. He slammed the door shut with his shoulder.
That hadn't just happened, had it?
He wasn't surprised when two days later Nearly-Headless Nick floated up to him after lunch and said, "The Headmaster will see you now."
#
#
There were several magnets on Dumbledore's desk, along with several muggle textbooks on magnetism and electricity.
Harry said, "Am I in trouble?"
Dumbledore said, "If I didn't want students messing with the door, I wouldn't have announced it on opening day. Rather, thank you for doing something so interesting. Even great castings can be overthrown by lowly yet novel techniques, and wizards have had very little interest in magnetism. And using the magnet itself as your focus instead of a wand-the muggle-raised do the darnedest things. I've already designed and emplaced a new counter-charm. And thank you for forcing me to look into a fascinating subject. I'll credit you with the original idea when I publish my results."
Harry reflected that Dumbledore worked very, very fast.
Dumbledore said, "But that's not why I called you here. When you were attacked by the dementors, you saw a partial memory. Lord Voldemort killing your mother. I would like to gain access to the full memory. If you're willing. It might be better if we waited. You're still quite y-"
"Will it be hard?" said Harry, then realized he'd interrupted Dumbledore and shut his mouth hard enough his teeth clacked.
"As you're an occlumens and you've surfaced the memory recently, your cooperation would make it extremely easy."
Harry removed his glasses and lowered his occlumency shields from passive to nothing, except around a few particular facts.
"Bring the target memory to the front of your mind."
Harry nodded. He thought of the fear in the voice that must've been his father's. His mother, hardly older than Shelby or Tonks moving quickly, full of urgency.
"Legilimens," said Dumbledore.
A smile pasted onto a face like an amateur's drawing, shouting, crashing, the memories bundling into a ball.
"I have it," said Dumbledore, and something cool pressed against his cheek. His eyes focused. Silver liquid in a glass vial. Dumbledore tipped it into a wide, ornate, dark grey bowl full of water. Harry didn't realize it was made of stone until he touched it.
Dumbledore said, "You shouldn't see this."
"It's my memory."
"You're much too young."
"I've already seen part of it."
Dumbledore sighed, "I was afraid you'd insist on this. But hiding it from you would only tempt you to attempt legilimency on yourself. Very well."
The bowl floated in the air, and Dumbledore summoned a stool to sit in, so he could bend down the same level as the young boy next to him.
Dumbledore said, "Pay close attention. A natural memory is changeable, unreliable, and short on details. This won't be. We'll both dunk our heads in. Like bobbing for apples. 3, 2, 1, dunk!"
Harry dunked his head into the lukewarm water and saw blue wallpaper through the wooden posts of a crib. Above him, miniature Quidditch players flew around on miniature broomsticks. Stuffed animals spilled out of a wicker hamper in one corner, and a desk of such a pale pink color it nearly passed for white sat in the corner by the door.
A sound like a car crash, a sound like a waterfall, and a man's voice. "Lily! He's here! Get Harry out!"
More crashes, a scream, two more crashes, a shout of Avada Kedavra, and Harry realized Voldemort had brought at least one Death Eater to his parent's house, and the scream had been his father putting paid to one of them.
But Voldemort had killed his father in turn, the fight taking bare seconds.
His mother ran through the door and snatched him into her arms. She tried to apparate and failed-it must be an anti-apparition jinx-dropped him back in the crib, and blew a wall off the side of the house, a sheer drop into the yard. She tugged open the closet, twirled out gripping a broomstick, and a man walked in.
When Harry had been surrounded by dementors, Voldemort had seemed monstrous, but in the cold light of the pensieve, he was a handsome man with something subtly off about his face.
Lily's back cut Harry's view off.
Complete silence, like when two gunslingers faced each other in an American western movie.
Voldemort said, "Stand aside."
His mother raised her wand.
Harry wondered why the Dark Lord hesitated. When Voldemort spoke again, Harry heard not fear, or even quite nervousness, but certainly caution and maybe reluctance.
"Why would you die for the child? You can just get another one."
Lily cast a spell without incantation. Voldemort batted it aside with the tap of his wand and it blew out another wall.
"Avada Kedavra."said Voldemort.
"Perpello Pacem!"Lily replied, and green light struck her.
Lily fell, and Voldemort stepped over her body. "Perpello Pacem?" The eyebrows twitched, and he squatted by the crib. "What to do with you. Guchi-guchi goo." His fingers flashed as he waved them, and baby Harry stopped crying.
Voldemort covered his face with his hands, then pulled away.
"Peak a boo!"
Baby Harry giggled.
"Peak a boo!
Louder laughter.
"Peak a boo!"
Voldemort laughed too. "I should raise you myself. 'Dark Lord with a baby,' that would turn my life into a love comedy, I'm sure. I can see myself wandering down the market aisles with you in a modified bread basket, dumbfounded by all the baby products, then I'd get help from a kind, beautiful witch who's been hurt badly and thinks she'll never love again."
Voldemort's features were unfused, like corks bobbing in water. Each time Harry saw his face from a different angle, it seemed like a different face.
Voldemort sighed. "But you'd cry, wouldn't you?" He pulled a revolver from his robes, pointed it at Harry's head, and pulled the trigger.
Golden light flashed, left an afterglow of brilliant, impenetrable white, a sound like a hundred rolls of thunder, and a stab of virulent green went straight through his head.
Harry pulled his head out of the pensieve, gasping, fell, and would've cracked his skull on the floor if Dumbledore hadn't caught him with a spell and gently lowered him to the ground.
He was having trouble breathing.
Dumbledore cast a spell, and his breathing slowed.
"Just a calming spell," said Dumbledore. "Would you like something to eat?"
"No," Harry gasped. All he could think of was how brave and sure his father and mother had been, the way Voldemort had said, 'You can just get another one,' how Voldemort had been far stranger than he'd imagined, and for it, even scarier. But the most unexpected bit of it all...
Harry said, "Voldemort used a gun."
"He was muggle-raised. He claimed he used it ritualistically, to indicate that a particular enemy didn't deserve to die like a wizard even, but I believe its primary use to him was to reduce the magical implications of murder when he wanted to. Obviously, that precaution was insufficient to your mother's spell."
His mother's spell. Perpello Pacem.
"I don't know the exact nature of the spell, and an incantation and glimpse of the wand movement isn't nearly enough to replicate it, but it was sacrificial. Sacrificial spells are usually thought of as Dark Magic, and most of them are, but those that aren't are its opposite. Your mother invented or found-I would guess invented-a spell that used Voldemort's murdering her as power to place a powerful restriction on Voldemort. Against killing you, I presume."
Dumbledore continued, "I'd wondered if Lily did it instinctively, an act of unplanned, natural magic. But no. She sat at her champagne pink desk in the nook inside the nursery, took out a quill and her favorite books on spell creation, and thought about how to die in a way that would save her child if Voldemort came knocking."
Harry had trouble breathing again.
"It's a shame James didn't live. I suppose what it came down to was that he was downstairs and Lily was upstairs." Professor Dumbledore gave him a paper bag.
"Breathe into that. Go see Professor Orphiel. She'll help."
Harry had to breathe into the plastic bag several times before he could say, "No. I want this."
Dumbledore smiled. "You want to eat your trauma, do you? Such hunger from one so young." The old wizard selected one of two potions from his desk. "Drink this. It'll help with digestion."
Harry downed it one one shot, and his breathing slowed. It tasted of brisk morning in the air and the feeling when he had something hard to do and he knew he could do it, like there were drum beats inside his head."
"Depending on how you're doing in two weeks, I may insist that you see Professor Orphiel to have the wound drained. I'd rather have waited on this till you were older, but needs must when the devil drives. But, please, however you respond, don't do something tiresome in that head of yours like making 'I'm going to kill Voldemort once and for all' your life's purpose. It's not a trustworthy ambition. Any wholesome ambition will force you to oppose him anyway. He's that kind of monster." Dumbledore sighed and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "I dislike sermonizing, but done properly it cuts down on the Dark Lords, murderers, and everyday churls." A book flew off the shelf and would've hit Harry in the chest if hadn't caught it.
Dumbledore said, "Much interest in moral philosophy?"
Harry shook his head.
"Give it a skim. Lend it to the Weasley boy after; he'll eat it up.
#
#
Harry slept the rest of that day and most of the next lying in bed. "Vacation is supposed to be relaxing," he kept saying to himself, staring into the mirror, making different parts of his body disappear with the invisibility bedsheet.
"Hermione's coming back soon," he'd remind himself. He put a couple pounds of plant material into the papermaker, and paper came out in pairs. He put them in two loose leaf notebooks, one for him, one for Hermione. Whatever he wrote in his notebook would show up in the same page of hers, and vice versa.
He read the first twenty pages of the book Dumbledore had given him, thought it was interesting, closed it, and never opened it again.
Sometimes he practiced spells, thinking of the grinning man who'd killed his parents.
Sometimes he stared at the wall.
He wondered if he shouldn't have insisted on seeing the memory.
The other students came back.
#
#
He met them as they came through the main doors, and gave a hug to Hermione and Ron, wished them a Happy New Year, thanked them for the gifts. He asked Ron if he was alright; Ron said he was.
Descriptions of their respective holidays. Again asking Ron if he was alright, Ron saying he was. A welcome back meal in the Great Hall. A few games. Asking Ron if he was alright, Ron saying he had a hangnail. Then free-time, and Harry was finally able to drag Hermione and Ron into an empty room. Harry cast Calloportus on the door to lock it, then shoved a chair under the knob, Ron and Hermione asking what it was he wanted to show them.
He hadn't been sure at first about showing Ron, but Ron had earned it by solving the Sirius case.
Harry said, "Turn around for a moment."
They faced the wall, Ron grumbling.
Harry wrapped the invisibility bedsheet around himself. "Now turn back around."
"Where'd you go?" said Ron.
"Did you turn into something small?" said Hermione.
"What?" said Ron.
"Nothing."
Harry said, "I'm right here."
"Where?"
"Here."
Hermione stretched out a hand, touched, and jerked her hand back. A natural reaction to waving one's hand through the air and finding an elbow.
Harry let the invisibility bedsheet fall around his shoulders, exposing his head.
Hermione gasped and Ron said, "Is Harry's head actually floating in the air? I'm not confused again?"
Harry winced, and whisked the sheet off, holding it up so they could see. "Sorry Ron, I didn't think of that."
Ron gaped at the bedsheet.
Harry said, "I got an invisibility bedsheet for Christmas."
"An invisibility cloak," corrected Ron, sounding awed.
"It's not a cloak. There aren't any arms," said Harry.
"Cloaks don't have arms," said Ron. "You're thinking of coats."
Hermione said, "I'm going with Harry here. It's perfectly rectangular, there isn't a hood, and nothing to tie it around your neck with. It's not a cloak. Sheet, shroud, tablecloth maybe."
"You can't call it an invisibility tablecloth either," said Ron. "But we're missing the point." He held out his hands, Harry gave it to him, and he wrapped himself in it so only his head and a knee poked out, and looked at himself in the mirror. "It's a really good one too. This is expensive. You got it for Christmas? Who from?"
Harry showed them the card. It was a mystery who'd sent it, but it made a lot more sense to know it was a Potter family heirloom, probably, and had been returned to Harry more than given to him.
The Glasses too. He offered them to Hermione, to keep, saying he could get a lot of the same effects from 'occlumency and my eye stuff,' and she looked horrified and refused.
"You already gave me too nice of a gift," she said. "We agreed not to get each other Music Boxes."
"I know, but then I thought I'd probably use it a lot too, so really, it's a gift to me too, really."
She and Ron both tried on the Potter Glasses, and they talked over the possibilities of the invisibility bedsheet. ("Cloak," said Ron.) It seemed to expand as needed, and could be big enough to cover the three of them. They could, if they liked, sneak around the school after curfew, but why they'd do that was a mystery.
"I wish we'd had this when the troll attacked," said Hermione, and Harry nodded hard enough his head hurt.
They were on the way to the dorms, Harry wondering when he could get Hermione alone to tell her about the mirror and the memory of Voldemort, when they saw a lump at the end of the corridor.
Harry, wearing the Potter Glasses, made out what it was long before the others.
Sally Su lay on the floor, still as a statue, camera raised to her eyes. Above her, written in red letters that looked like blood,
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
FOR THE LIFE OF THE RACE, ALL MUDBLOODS MUST DIE.
:::
From the jump I've had the idea that sometime well into the book, I'd casually reveal Harry didn't have glasses. Unfortunately, I effed up by forgetting about this in the first version of chapter 5 I posted. (It's been fixed now.)
I've been sitting on a fairly detailed explanation of how Sirius got into the castle since before he did it, but nothing so far has felt like the right place to put it. We'll see.
I like my Voldemort. To me, he's scarier.
I wrote the whole Lily Potter death scene before the dementor attack so that the fragment shown during the attack would agree precisely with what I wanted for the whole memory, but then ended up changing part of it. I'll have to go back and change the dementor attack to match.
MONSTROSITY, by JLL. Read it on Amazon Kindle for just 99 cents. If you don't have a kindle, you can use the kindle app on any phone, tablet or computer. Amanda was trying to get away from the trouble posed by her feudsome witch clan, but between the vampires, the werewolves, and the handsome but possibly sociopathic jock, staying out of trouble wasn't going so well.
This chapter had more synopsis than usual. Ms. Rowling is the Queen of synopsis. I'm afraid mine is lacking in energy and color and is off in mood. Otoh, "All Harry knew about wet dreams was Neville had to change his underwear after," might be my favorite line in the whole story.