Tynam Makem: At least you discovered the problem quickly :) To answer your questions, Jen's sonar isn't "sight", but more of a long-ranged sense of touch (and even that's not a good description, but we don't have anything analogous to it). So, when she regains her sight, she'll have six working senses rather than five; the increased information may get in the way in the beginning, but her scrying keeps the portion of her brain responsible for vision active, meaning the readjustment period will be short. Danny is a stereotypical Lion, but he is powerful for his age, just as Harry was. It never made sense to me in twin-who-lived stories how one child could be a virtual squib and the other be just a step from godhood. I'll show more of the Lovegood gifts, I'm sure; I just don't know when.
InsanitySorrow 2.0: It may not be a conflict of interest – that would be more along the lines of having both Minister and Chief Warlock positions – but it makes his depiction as a manipulative Chessmaster that much easier to promote. In light of what Flitwick now knows, he can explain to McGonagall that Jen has her own method and not to bother her about it. Of course, it won't prepare her for the Transfiguration OWL, but she doesn't really care. Let me see, the people who know that Jen was born a Potter are: the Black family; James and Lily; McGonagall, who was there when Jen made the decision to take the Black name; Flitwick, who was informed by McGonagall after Jen went into his House; Dumbledore, who recognized her and confirmed her identity with McGonagall during the Sorting feast; Tracey, who was told by Jen herself on the Express; and Remus, who was told by Sirius when she went home in chapter 13. Looking back at it, this is a lot of people in on the secret…
James and Lily are curious about how she can now use magic, but they're more than a little scared of her obvious hatred for them. On a related note, they did not know that Jen was thrown out at five; like you said, out of sight and out of mind. Most of Magical Britain, if they knew about her existence, would assume like Snape did that she's Sirius's daughter and was in hiding after he was sentenced to Azkaban. As for the timeline, this chapter starts in mid-October.
Starkid: I'm glad you'll be sticking around. Yes, Snape was getting back at him for the pranks the Marauders pulled, especially sending him to the Shrieking Shack during a full moon. The Draught essentially gave Sirius permanent erectile dysfunction, hence the name "Eternal Chastity". It was meant to just be embarrassing, making it so Sirius the playboy can't "get it up" around the ladies, but since the Magical World doesn't have in vitro fertilization, it also keeps him from having children. Because of the importance Purebloods put on maintaining family lines, doing that is a major crime, especially with the Ancient Houses.
Do you remember when I said you'd be reading some of the darker details of Jen's early life starting around book 5? I lied.
Disclaimer: Was Draco Malfoy ever punished for constantly taunting Harry? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
Chapter 15
Goat and Donkey
A knock on the door cut Moody off as he was expounding on the benefits of a piercing hex over the disarming charm. He stalked over, flinging it open with a loud "What!"
In the hallway stood a younger student, probably a second year if Jen was reading his size and core correctly. "P-P-Professor Dumbledore wanted me to give this to you." His message delivered, he scurried away, a frightened mouse fleeing a viper. Moody opened the folded piece of parchment and growled lightly.
"Black, go to the Headmaster's office and take this with you." She rose with her bag and exited, snatching the note from his hand as she passed him. Once in the corridor she sighed, more than happy to be away from the paranoid lunatic. Contrary to popular belief, his creed was not 'Constant Vigilance', or at least it wasn't just that. 'Constant Vigilance, and Attack Anyone Who Gets Within Twenty Feet' was more apt.
Her feet led her to the Headmaster's Tower as her fingers read a postscript on the note. "I enjoy custard?" she asked the air. "What is that supposed to mean?" With a shrug she continued on, eventually reaching a stone gargoyle.
"Er, I have an appointment," she tried. Magic flowed around the statue for a moment, then stilled, leaving the structure in place.
"The Headmaster wants to see me." Still no change.
"Please move?" Nothing.
"Dumbledore, Hogwarts, tower, office, stairs, entrance, Mugwump, Chief Warlock."
She ground her teeth together. "Not going to cooperate? How about I melt you into a lump of red-hot slag and toss you into the damn lake for the bloody fucking squid to use as a chew toy!" When the gargoyle remained unmoved, she pulled up the sleeves of her robe and gathered magic in her fist before she heard a chuckle.
"That's not going to work," a man's voice said from her left. Since there was no one there, she could only assume it was a portrait speaking. "If you are really supposed to meet with Dumbledore, he would have provided the password."
"Well, he didn't. All the note said was to come to his office and that he likes custard." The obstacle rumbled at her last word and slid to the side. "The password's custard? Seriously? Senile old man and his stubborn rock heap." She aimed a kick at the statue as she walked by.
The Headmaster's office was at the top of a circular flight of stairs. Rather than knock at the wooden door, she simply opened it and went through; if she was late, it was technically his fault. She stopped in her tracks as soon as she crossed the threshold, the magic pouring from every item in the room practically pushing her backwards. Silver instruments sat on shelves by his desk while three chairs were heavily ensorcelled with various comfort charms. A solid gold perch was in the corner of the room next to several bookcases.
Why would Dumbledore have me come up here and then leave? She focused her perception into a sweep of the room and quickly found a muted signature by the staircase leading out of the office and farther up the tower. "It's generally considered inappropriate for an older man to hide himself while watching a young girl."
"Only if the older man doesn't have the young girl's best interests in mind," he replied, dropping whatever spell he was using to mask his presence. "Not many people can find me when I do not wish to be seen. May I ask how you did so?"
"Of course." She said nothing more and sank into the overstuffed armchair across the desk from the Headmaster.
There was a long pause, then he sighed. "How did you find me?"
"With all due respect, sir, that is nothing you need to know." She flashed a smile at his consternated expression. "I said you could ask, not that I would answer."
He gaped at her, then laughed. "I see Miss Lovegood has been rubbing off on you. That was always one of her mother's favorite mind games."
"Luna has the same habit. She'll twist your words around if she's upset, or happy, or bored, or… anytime, really."
"Yes, I believe I have seen that during dinner many times this past month and a half. While we are on the subject of Miss Lovegood, I would like to give you my personal thanks for resolving the situation she was in. It is always good when students stand up for their principles."
She waved his words away. "I simply don't like my friends being harassed. Now that the idiots have learned that lesson, we should have no further quarrels."
"Very well. However, I must chastise you for the manner in which you acted. There were many other ways you could have stepped in, none of them as violent."
"Nor as effective." First praise, then condemnation. Where are you going with this? She reached out with her probes and skimmed along the surface of his mind, then pulled away sharply. You old goat-fucker! No one can be as crazy as you behave and yet have mental shielding, especially not this strong. The whole 'gentle demented old man' has to be an act, one designed to lure in the naive and have them pour their souls out to you. It's effective, too; I know I would have become careless in my comments and spilled something important.
"Miss Black, witches and wizards with exceptional power have a duty to the entire community to hold themselves to a higher standard than those of only average ability. We should never use force except as a last resort."
She barely withheld a incredulous huff; now that she knew he was this crafty, she would have to be more careful with her words and act how he expected her to act in order to avoid suspicion. "Bullies are thugs who pick on the weak in order to look strong. Fear, anger, pain; these are the languages they best understand. The 'entire community' has a right to be free from their depredations, no matter how they must be curtailed."
"I see we must agree to disagree for now," he said with a sigh. "What do you think of your classes?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't see why Hogwarts's Headmaster would be so interested in a single student. Surely the school as a whole is more important?"
"My dear girl, you are the first student to transfer here in half a century. I would be remiss in my duties should I not make inquiries." He smiled cheerfully at her. "Don't worry, anything said shall stay within these walls if that is your concern."
Before she could respond, a thick wad of magic lifted from his head and launched itself at her. The attack was completely unexpected, and she only just managed to put up a barrier. What she now realized was meant to be a mental probe bounced off and fizzled out. Far more wary, she cleared her throat to cover up her pause as she regained her equilibrium.
"They are enjoyable for the most part. Potions and Charms are easily my favorites, though, because there are so many applications for them. Arithmancy and Runes are very interesting, too."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Which classes do you not like as much?"
"Er, I don't think I'll ever be good at Transfiguration. The practical part is fine, but I get lost when Professor McGonagall starts on the theory. Defense, though, is even worse." She leaned in conspiratorially, "Professor Moody scares me a little. Just don't tell him I said that!"
"Have no fear, your secret is safe with me." He reached for a candy dish on the desk. "I can't believe I have been so rude. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
She opened her mouth to tell him no when a fireball burst into existence, depositing a highly magical, swan-sized bird on the perch. It looked at them and trilled, and molten metal poured into her ears.
"Ah, my phoenix companion. Fawkes, this is Miss Black."
"Hello, Fawkes," she choked out, doing all she could to conceal the liquid fire roasting her brain and pooling in her lungs. "That was quite a trick."
He frowned at her in feigned concern. "Are you all right, my dear? You look a mite pale."
"I'm always pale, sir; it comes with being a Black," she said with a forced smile. "But I do have a cold that's been worsening all day. If you don't mind, I'll take my leave now and see Madam Pomfrey about some Pepper Up before returning to Defense."
"I don't mind at all. Have a good day, Miss Black, and come visit me any time you wish. It gets lonely in this Tower with only myself to talk to. If I didn't have occasional guests, why, I'd surely go mad."
They shared a laugh, and she walked out the door and down the stairs, just barely keeping herself upright. Now that she no longer had to keep up the act, she slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor. Of course he's going to have a bloody phoenix. I wonder what he was thinking; 'I know, I'll get a pet whose noises cause incredible pain to any students who happen to use the Dark Arts. Oh, and if that isn't enough, I'll invite the only Voodoo witch in all of Britain up to have a chat when I know it'll be returning shortly. Surely there's no chance that will give her a seizure or anything.' Sadistic Light bastard.
She hauled herself back up with a grunt, steadying herself with an outstretched arm before searching for a place to sleep the pain off. Thankfully he had called her out of the Thursday afternoon session; it being her last class of the day meant she had an hour or two before she was required to make another appearance.
Dumbledore grew contemplative after Miss Black, formerly Potter, left his office. He turned to Fawkes. "Your cry hurt her, didn't it?"
The symbol of the Light nodded sadly and hid his head under his wing to rest.
"This isn't good. Normally your song just makes dark wizards and witches uncomfortable; she must be farther down that path than I thought. I want to help her reform, but being blind to her thoughts makes a rapport that much more difficult to achieve. If only she would let down her guard and trust me!" The girl had impressive Occlumency shields for a student, to his distress. That spoke of great magical strength, as had her periodic flights.
He spun his chair to look out the window, which had an unimpeded view of the North Tower. The first time he saw the girl falling, he thought she was committing suicide. Instead, she had flown without a broom, an act only heard of in tall tales from the New World. To casually violate the laws of magic like that…
"I don't know what to do, Fawkes. She possesses a flawless mask, even by Pureblood standards; without the Prophecy warning me, I would have thought her nothing more than a normal, albeit powerful, teenage girl. Nevertheless, I cannot give up. Two Dark Lords rose on my watch, and I will not allow a Dark Lady to join them."
Jen's fingers stilled on her copy of Maji as her attention switched to the ringing bell on her bedside table. It was tied to an intent-based ward in the hallway and would only sound if someone crossed the ward's threshold on their way to her room. She laid the book on top of her open ritual kit and spelled them to be unnoticeable just as the door opened.
"Jen, come on! It's almost time for the other schools to arrive," Luna cheered as she rushed in, so similar to a child on a massive sugar rush that Jen couldn't have kept her smile hidden if she tried. Now that her dormmates and Chang's clique were no longer terrorizing her, she had bloomed into a vivacious and whimsical girl. How no one noticed what a gem she could be was utterly mystifying.
Padma slipped inside as Luna settled herself on the bed. "So this is where you were hiding. Morag and Lisa are supposed to save us a good spot, but they won't be able to if we don't hurry."
"Fine, fine, I'm coming. Just give me a minute to put my things away." Dispelling the charm on her belongings, she pulled the book off and accidentally knocked the entire kit onto the floor. "Bugger."
Luna gasped as she scooted away from the bone dagger that had fallen out. "Oh Merlin, that thing's horrid! Why do you have that? What is it?"
"I forgot that your family is sensitive to things like this," Jen muttered as she picked it up and sheathed it. "There, better now?"
The younger girl nodded, but refused to return to her previous position. Padma, on the other hand, crept closer. "A better question is why did you bring ritual materials with you at all? They aren't restricted in India like they are here," she explained to Jen's cocked head. "And don't think you're getting out of explaining what was up with that knife. I may not be sensitive to magic, but even I could tell there was something off about it."
"The kit belonged to my tutor; she passed away last year and left it to me to remember her by. As for the dagger… trust me when I say you're happier not knowing." She put everything back in its drawer and walked out, the two girls following her and peppering her with questions she chose to ignore.
She wasn't lying when she said they didn't want to know. They might be some of her closest friends, and Luna might be extremely perceptive, but they weren't ready to hear the details about her very powerful, very rare, and very illegal Death Focus. They didn't even know she used dark magic, so there was no way she would explain why she needed a tool that allowed her magic to resonate with the energy released from the death of a ritual sacrifice.
Nor would she inform them that one of these blades, like a soul jar or homunculus, could only be created through an act of murder.
Jenny ran into another wall as she crept through the rundown flat, still not used to this brand-new sense Elsie gave her a month ago. The lady wasn't nice, not at all, but no one else had ever told her that the weird things she did were magic or taught her how to control them. Elsie had even called her special when she accidentally set a book on fire and made the flames stop. Her, special! She may not spoil her like Aunt Petunia had Dudley or act like the telly said grandmothers did, but it was lots better than the streets.
She couldn't find her way around with all the ghost-touches coming at her, so she ignored them as best she could and kept her hand on a wall as she searched for the last and worst of Those Bastards – and that was another good thing about living with Elsie. She didn't care if she used bad words, and even taught her some new ones. Elsie had killed three of them, but said that she had to get revenge on the last one herself. If she did, and did it right, she'd be able to do the same stuff the older woman did. Well, that was what saved her and let her use magic all she wanted, so she wasn't going to say no. She was blind, not stupid.
As soon as she entered the bedroom, she knew he was there. His body was outlined by an almost-but-not-quite hum, nothing like the ball of static Elsie and all the people in that electric Knockturn Alley had, but then he wasn't a wizard, either. She tip-toed over to him and laid her hands on his bed. This was going to be hard, but she couldn't hold him down by herself. Imagining what she wanted to happen, she let her magic flow from her fingers and felt the covers' corners slid out from under the bed to wrap around his wrists and ankles before stretching him out and tying themselves to the frame. She sighed in relief; her spells had become wonky after the ritual, and this one had to go just right. He'd fight back if he got the chance, and he'd always win when it came to strength, so she needed to keep him still.
There was no point worrying about 'what if's now, though. She had a job to do, and this was better than cutting up plants or killing small animals and throwing them into a pot. This was something she wanted to do. She reached over and slapped him as hard as she could.
"Bloody 'ell!" he shouted, struggling against his sheets. She was scared at first they wouldn't hold, but eventually he stopped when he couldn't get away. "'Oo's there?!"
She got closer and heard him gasp. "Hi there. Remember me?"
"You… you're that 'allucination, the girl in the alley a year ago."
"It was eleven months and six days ago!" Jenny screamed. "I remember it. I remember what you and your friends did to me every day. Every damn day. And you won't get away with it, not anymore."
He started fighting his bed again. "Look, you gotta unnerstan'! It was the drugs, I swear! We woul'n've done it if we were clean! It wasn' our fault!"
"It was the drugs," she repeated coldly. She picked up a needle from the nightstand, her new sense becoming clearer now that she wasn't so focused on understanding what it was telling her. "It was all the drugs, but you still use them." She threw it at the wall above him, shattering it and making him cry.
"Look, I'll… I'll make it up to you. I've got money you can 'ave in the drawer, gotta be five thousan' poun's. Take it, it's yours!"
She smiled, but she wasn't happy. All she felt was rage and hatred eating away at her insides. "Yeah, you'll make it up to me, and I'll take your money, but not right now." The seven year old reached behind her and pulled out the steel knife she had slipped in her belt. He moaned in fear.
"You hurt me. I'm going to hurt you back."
Jen shook herself from her agonizing memories. There was too much going on in the present for her to drown herself in the past. Especially him. I honestly don't know who was the real victor of our conflict; I had justice in the end, but not before he took the last of my childhood from me. She shoved the past to the back of her mind where it belonged and instead lost herself in the comfort of her friends' idle chatter.
"About time you showed up," Tracey said, running over as they were walking past the Great Hall. "Did you see the Gryffindors all lined up in a row? Apparently McGonagall's started being harder on them; she even confiscated the Weasley Twits' pranking supplies when she normally lets them off with just a warning."
"How did you come to learn that? I have heard nothing about it."
The Slytherin blushed. "Kenneth told me earlier today in the library."
"Oh my, will wonders never cease?" She wrapped her arm around Tracey's shoulders and pulled the shocked girl closer to her side. "Has the chivalrous Lion swept the sarcastic Snake off her feet? Shall I start picking out gifts for a baby chimera?"
"Hush, you! No one's done any sweeping, and there're no plans for a bun in the oven any time soon. He doesn't even know I fancy him – you know how men are – and it's going to stay that way, understand?"
"I hear and obey, Mistress."
They all had a good laugh at that, then Tracey pointed to the Slytherin table. "Besides, you have your own admirer over there. Haven't you noticed Malfoy making cow eyes at you?"
She wished she could glare at her friend's wicked grin. "There are so many things wrong with that question, I don't know where to start. Ignoring for a moment that he's my cousin, I believe what he is feeling is less affection and more undying hatred."
"Well, you did sic his mother on him," Padma threw in. "That wouldn't make him like you much, I don't think."
Mail came to Hogwarts's students during breakfast. That was the way of things, so when an owl flew through the window during lunch, it naturally caught everyone's attention. Uncaring for its audience, it looked over the teens and finally found its target.
"Uh-oh," Morag said as they watched it descend, "somebody's getting a Howler."
"Howler?"
The Scot turned to Jen. "They're letters parents charm to read themselves loudly enough that anyone within a couple of kilometers can hear. Last year the Weasley twins received one every couple of weeks because of their pranks."
She stopped speaking as the owl landed in front of a suddenly frightened Draco Malfoy. He didn't take the letter, but simply sat there as if he hoped he could wish it away. His hopes were for naught.
After smoking briefly, the letter burst open on its own, and Cissy's cultured voice, hard with anger and disapproval, rang throughout the silent hall.
"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, I HAVE NEVER BEEN AS DISAPPOINTED WITH YOU AS I AM RIGHT NOW. HOW COULD YOU SHAME YOUR HOUSES, BOTH MALFOY AND BLACK, BY ACTING LIKE AN IRRESPONSIBLE GRYFFINDOR? ANTAGONIZING YOUR COUSIN, DENIGRATING RESPECTABLE PUREBLOODS, THIS IS WHAT I WOULD EXPECT FROM A WEASLEY! EVEN THE POTTERS HAVE MORE PROPRIETY THAN THAT!
"YOU WERE SORTED INTO SLYTHERIN, SO ACT LIKE IT! INSTEAD OF CREATING UNNECESSARY AND SELF-DESTRUCTIVE CONFLICTS, TRY RAISING YOUR BELOW AVERAGE MARK IN CHARMS. YOUR FATHER AND I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE A LAZY, GORMLESS RUFFIAN, AND WE WILL NO LONGER STAND FOR YOU TO CONTINUE BEHAVING AS SUCH. YOU WILL LEARN TO COMPORT YOURSELF AS BEFITS OUR STATION IN SOCIETY, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.
"FINALLY, APOLOGIZE TO YOUR COUSIN AND GIVE HER YOUR GRATITUDE BEFORE THE DAY IS OUT. HER INTERVENTION IS THE ONLY REASON I AM NOT AT THE SCHOOL IN PERSON TURNING YOU OVER MY KNEE."
The silence hung in the cavernous room for a few moments, then one of the Gryffindors burst out laughing. It spread through the Lions like wildfire, and soon all four Houses were united in mocking the still-gaping boy.
Jen swallowed her own laughter before it could overtake her. That had been perfectly Slytherin: the timing of the letter made sure everyone paid attention, and the calculated words tore him to pieces. Comparing him to the Weasleys and Potters, who the Malfoys despised, referencing the Gryffindor stereotype, bringing up his worst subject; his embarrassment was nearly palpable from where she sat. Then the coup de grace, publicly pulling away the protection of his family name and declaring open season on the self-absorbed ponce. His Charms scores would have to wait until he was no longer fending off attacks from every member of his house that he had stepped on and insulted. Considering his personality, she figured it would be late November at the earliest before they stopped cursing him any time they saw him.
The last part was a nice touch, and one she appreciated. He knew from the beginning who informed his mother, but now he would be wary of retaliating for fear of even worse punishment. She raised her goblet to the window the owl had entered from. "Well played, Auntie."
"No, it wouldn't," Jen replied. "It was funny, though, and he's been too busy watching his back to cause trouble. That's a win in my book." The girls laughed again and walked out to greet the coming guests.
Silently Watches out.