He levitates the book all the way down to the library. He can't sleep with something of Voldemort's in his house.
The lights flicker on with a wave of his hand and he lets the book land atop his desk. He unshrinks it, frowning as it expands. Now he can see it is forest green, not black. It has no title and no author on its spine. It looks like a journal. For a moment he is caught in the past and he wants nothing but the comforting weight of a basilisk's fang in his other hand.
He checks the book for Dark Magic but only finds the remnants of Dark Magic that must have surrounded the book. Auror's like to say that Dark Magic has a 'stink' to it and that things left in that stink 'absorb' the odor. There is no lock, no password, no security. He checks it for portkeys or other magical signatures, but each comes up negative. Finally, he reaches his hand towards the cover and flips it open.
What meets his eyes is the tight neat scrawl that he would recognize anywhere – he had seen it pinned his own 'son's' body.
"To My Grandson – a journal to fill with your thoughts."
His breath catches in his chest. He falls down onto his chair. A flick of his hand turns the page.
'I'm not very certain what to do with a journal, but Grandfather says writing in it will soon become second nature. I'm not so sure, but I didn't tell Grandfather that…'
"Harry?" He whips around, coming face to face with Alexandra. She's in her dressing gown, her forehead furrowed and her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. She's worried about him. "You're not still writing that letter, are you?"
He shakes his head, all that he can manage.
"Then what are you doing in here this late?" She comes closer and he makes no move to hide the journal. He knows the minute she's come close enough to read the page, even though he is looking at her feet and avoiding her eyes. She takes a breath in and it chokes there for several moments, until it comes sliding out in rickety sort of way.
"Is that Devlin's?" She whispers, her words strained.
"Yeah, it is."
oOoOoOo
Grandfather says to perform the Imperius Curse I must mean to control someone. That I must want to control them.
But to want to control something, mustn't you know what it feels like to control anything? See, it's not my place to control anything, so how can I meanor want what I have never experienced?
I spoke to Grandfather about just this and he has promised to consider the notion. Nevertheless, my tutor is becoming increasingly annoyed and Grandfather is becoming more and more disappointed. I don't want to disappoint him.
OoOoOoOo
"We're going to Hogwart's today." Devlin rubs at his eyes, looking for his mother or Emma, but it is only his father, sitting at the table. Dressed in his Auror uniform. Instinctively, Devlin shrinks back. It is still embedded in him that he's not supposed to be seen by Auror's.
"I thought we were going to have that talk this morning…" He'd been dreading it all the night before. He'd woken up several times during the night and tossed and turned until even Zee was whining. Finally he'd given in and transformed – it was easier to not think in Wolf form.
His father gives him a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I forgot I had an appointment at Hogwarts until Dumbledore sent me a reminder this morning. I promised to contribute to the fifth year's Defense Against the Dark Art's lecture. They're learning about the Unforgivable Curses."
"Why do they need you?"
"We're going to talk about breaking through the Imperius Curse – I'm, er, apparently very good at that, and since I'm Head Auror…well" he shrugged "it will be fun, I promise. We'll bring our brooms and I'll take you to the flying pitch afterwards, okay?"
"Will I stay with you there?"
"Well yeah…"
"You won't leave me with the Headmaster alone?" His tone of voice makes Harry frown.
"No, I wouldn't." And Harry's tone of voice and mannerism makes Devlin frown. Perhaps Harry wasn't Dumbledore's pawn like Grandfather says. "Dumbledore is a good man, Devlin, but he believes himself responsible for a great many lives, and sometimes…he considers us too equally."
"You mean he see's my Grandfather in me." There is a long pause where his father just looks at him, then there is a nod, quick and short and not repeated, but done anyway.
"Yes, he does. I tell you this because I know what it's like to feel left in the dark – to have yourself be a 'discussion topic' but never in your presence. Dumbledore wishes I would ask you things, that I won't."
"I won't betray him, sir." He says and he means what he says. He isn't ready to toss his Grandfather aside as if he means nothing to him.
"I know, and I'm okay with that." He furrows his brow. "We'll talk more about this when we get home, otherwise we'll be late. Can you get dressed and we'll grab you some breakfast at Hogwarts?"
He nods.
oOoOoOoOo
I preformed the Imperius Curse today – successfully. My tutor actually shouted out "yes!" and Grandfather's eyes lit up. Over dinner Grandfather asked me how I managed and I told him I wasn't very sure… I think I just finally got so frustrated that I got angry. Grandfather seemed pleased.
I also learned the 'point me' spell today – that was a bit tricky, but overall easy. I didn't expect much praise in mastering it.
OOOOOO
Zee, Devlin learns, does not like being left alone. If he had arms he would have tried to hold onto Harry, as it is, his teeth on Harry's robe do a fair enough job.
"We'll be back really soon, Zee," Harry says, for the seventh time. "You make sure everything here is okay, yeah?" The dog lets a whine out, but doesn't release his robes. "Zee…"
"Zee, let go," The dogs eyes swerve to Devlin and suddenly his jaw unclenches. "You stay here. Lay down." The dog cocks it's head, but laid down.
"How did you do that?" His father asks, looking at him.
"I can make animals do what I want, without training them. They just listen to me." And Devlin isn't sure why that spark of fear alights in his father's eyes so suddenly.
"Let's go…good boy Zee. Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Office!"
OOOOOO
Grandfather says my journal is the perfect place to put ideas that I want to ask him about, while he's away on trips.
Today in potions we were learning about the importance of a half-stir, versus a full-turn and I was wondering if there was another layer of that importance. When you finish a half-turn you're meant to twist your spoon just so towards the middle, and therefore the potion always seems to flow towards the center. Would this half-turn finish contribute at all?
OoOoOoOo
The Headmaster is seated behind his deep oak desk. He looks up and smiles softly at Devlin as he tumbles forward. Seated in one of the chairs in front of the desk, Severus Snape looks over his shoulder towards him – he doesn't smile.
"How lovely of you to invite me to tea, Albus, when you knew Potter was about to visit."
The Headmaster smiles.
"It slipped my mind entirely, Severus." The Potion Master snorts and mumbles 'you unbearable old coot' under his breath, but of course Devlin hears him quite clearly.
Devlin rights himself, all the while keeping a close eye on the Headmaster. A moment later, his father comes through the floo, just managing to keep himself upright.
"Hello, Severus!" He gives the man a smile. Severus sneers.
"Hello, Potter. And Devlin."
Despite it bringing him nearer to the Headmaster, Devlin approaches the Potion Master.
"Hello," he says softly to the man, coming over to his side. "I found my father's old potion books. You're right, they don't look very worn." Behind him his father laughs and Albus' eyes alight with mirth, but Severus' mouth merely twitches.
"Indeed," he says flatly, as if he expected nothing else.
"Yes. I just started reading the fifth year book. It talks about the Draught of Peace, but it doesn't really properly touch on what ingredient nulls the poisons in hellebore. I suspect it is the powered moonstone along with the mandrakes."
Harry takes a moment, from behind his son, to blink in admiration. Not only was Devlin unaffected by Severus' attitude, he really was a brilliant child. Harry hadn't even noticed his books missing!
"The mandrakes interact with the hellebore only when it is in syrup form." Devlin nods eagerly.
"I hadn't thought of that!"
"Is your father bringing you to the Defense Against the Dark Art's class with him?" Harry takes a moment to realize there had been no animosity, no scathing, and no hurtfulness, in Severus' voice. Why would Severus like Devlin but detest Harry?
"Yes, sir."
"Then you might want to tell him to stop gawking and start walking, or you'll be late!" Severus turns around in his seat to sneer at Harry. Feeling more like things were 'right' in the world, or at least back to normal, Harry nodded and motioned Devlin to follow him.
"Do stop by on your way out, Harry. I have Devlin's wand."
"Will do, Albus."
The way to the Defense Against the Dark Art's classroom wasn't too long, but neither was it particularly short. Students, seeing his father, would stop and say hello or shout from across the hallway "Hey Mr. Potter!". Devlin hated all the attention – he wondered how his father managed to keep from cursing everyone around him.
"I bet you like the Muggle world for this reason," Devlin says softly.
"You don't know, maybe I'm famous there too!" He flashes a grin over his shoulder at Devlin.
"You're not, trust me." For a moment his father's footsteps falter, but then the strides even out again. Devlin holds his breath, hoping his father won't comment on his slip-up. It is far easier to slip-up around his father than his Grandfather.
"Here we are," he stops in front of a wooden door, just like the other wooden doors, except for a "Defense against the Dark Art's" engraving above the door. "Devlin, will you be alright…with me talking about the unforgivable curses?"
Devlin gives him a sidelong glance and for a moment the child before him looks much older than his eight years. The movement also highlights his similarity to Tom.
"You can talk about them all you like and it won't bother me one bit."
"What about if they're preformed?"
"All of them?"
"Yeah, all of them."
"I'll be okay," he says slowly. "I've seen them all before."
For a moment it looks like Harry wants to comment on that, but then he simply nods and opens the doors. There is a warm voice ready to greet his father on the otherside – one Devlin was not quite expecting.
"Harry!" It is Remus' voice. He had no idea Remus was the Defense Against the Dark Art's professor. He catches the werewolf's eyes for a moment and the man says kindly "And hello, Devlin." But by the time the words have left Remus' mouth, Devlin is no longer looking at him – he's looking at everyone else. There are boys and girls, all dressed in uniforms and they're gazes are going back and forth between his father and himself.
The regards stir a memory and for a brief moment he remembers being three or so and his first trip to Diagon Alley and the people looking at them and the women whispering about him, and his father frowning with his wand held out in the open.
"Mr. Potter is here as the Head Auror to oversee our lesson on the three unforgivable curses," Remus is saying and Devlin tries to refocus his brain. He wants to smile at Remus, but then his eyes stop focusing on the people and what they're wearing instead: it is a class full of Gryffindors and Slytherins. A couple of the Slytherin's are looking at him with more than simple interest – they are watching his every move. Measuring his proximity to his father. Watching his face for a connection to Remus. Trying to determine his loyalty. All of this information gathering, surely meant for only one person – his Grandfather.
He swallows, but does not show his worry. Don't think. Don't feel. Just do what has to be done.
"Because the unforgivables are illegal to perform without permission from the Ministry, all practical teaching of them must be in the presence of an Auror with the ranking to give permission," Harry says, making sure to look at them all firmly. The idea of the class isn't to teach the spells, it is to showcase the reasons why they are illegal. "We're not here to teach you how to do these spells, I'm here to make sure you know what they are and hopefully when we're done, you'll have a better idea of why they are illegal. Anyone who leaves this class and performs these spells is, in the Ministry's eyes, doing so with full knowledge of the three spells effects on humans and animals alike, and their illegal nature, and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent." He glares at them for a moment.
"Does that mean you're allowed to use them whenever you want?" Some boy asks suddenly. He's a Slytherin.
His father sends the boy a look unlike Devlin has ever seen on his father's face. It is a look he would have expected from Voldemort. A look of power and warning.
"Yes it does. I am the only Ministry official licensed to cast the unforgivables. Not even the Minister is allowed to cast them." The boy shrinks back a little, clearly wary of anyone who has free reign of the torture curse.
"Have you ever used it though?" A girl asks, looking nervous and fearful. Devlin looks at his father, curious as well.
"I'm not at liberty to discuss the actions I take as an Auror," he says.
"I'm sure many people have questions for Mr. Potter, but perhaps we'll have time for them after the lesson. Since you are the overseer, Mr. Potter, which shall we start with?"
His father withdraws his wand and a knut. "Let's start with the most inconspicuous," his father says softly. He places the knut in his hand and swishes his wand over the coin; a moment later it is a rat.
"The Cruciatus Curse is the only unforgivable that can be blocked with a shield," he says, petting the rat. "The others, the Imperius Curse and the Killing Curse, can not be blocked, no matter how powerful your shield is. You are defenseless against their attack. The only shields that work are the non-magical ones. However," he takes a moment to look them all over, "while the Imperius is not blockable like the Cruciatus Curse, it has a different weakness: the victim can make it stop. All they need is some willpower and a backbone."
Harry settles the mouse on the table and points his wand at its nervous figure. "Imperio," he whispers, and the mouse stops fidgeting and falls uncharacteristically still. "What shall I have him do? I can make him do anything I like. I could make him jump off this desk – perhaps he should get a running start."
The rat walks calmly to one side of the desk. At a look from Harry, it begins running towards the far edge.
"Stop." And the rat stops, a mere centimeter from the desks edge. "I could make him jump into an owls mouth, could make him climb into one of your backpacks, could make him drown himself. I could make him dance a jig – oh we think that one is funny do we?" He makes the mouse begin to dance. "He won't stop until I let him. He'd kill himself from exhaustion and hunger if I never told him to stop."
The classroom is silent.
"In a time of war being able to defend yourself against the Imperius Curse is often necessary. Any Wizard or Witch who would like to learn how to defend themself today, may line up over there," he swishes his wand and there is suddenly a line on the floor in front of the professors desk. "Being able to defend yourself will go towards your O.W.L's this year. It is the Ministry's attempt at enticing you to take your safety into your own hands." A line quickly forms, each member of it looking nervous but excited.
"Very well. Step forward and state your first name and we'll get started."
"Trevor, sir." The first boy says, standing in front of Harry with determination in his eyes.
"Ready Trevor?" The boy nods. "Imperio!" The boy's determination vanishes and his shoulders relax. "Trevor, hop on one leg," the boy begins to do so. "Now, sing." He begins so sing; so far off key that Devlin grimaces. "Now, lift your wand and send a stinging hex at Professor Lupin." For a moment a wisp of concern crosses the boys eyes, but then it vanishes.
"Think about what you're doing, Trevor," Lupin says gently to the boy, standing perfectly still. "He could make you curse me, or a friend, or your mother or little brother. Isn't he a first year now?" Trevor's eyes go wide and the curse, which had been leaking out his mouth, stops mid-syllable.
"No," he says softly.
"Yes," Harry says and that is all the boy needs. He lifts his wand and hexes Remus, who quickly blocks him and then Harry releases the curse, which Devlin knows by the tenseness that returns to the boy.
"I'm so sorry Professor!" The boy says, looking embarrassed and upset.
"It's okay Trevor," Lupin whispers, smiling at him. "You did really well."
"Indeed, that was very good. When I make the suggestion again, you have to be ready to fight it. The sooner you can shake the spell the better. If you show a Death Eater that you're a possible 'fighter' for the spell, they'll simply lay it on harder – at the first inkling of self-doubt, you have to break all the way through."
The line became longer before it became shorter and then they were moving on, to Devlin's least favorite spell in the whole world: Crucio.
"As I said before, the Cruciatus Curse is blockable, but Death Eaters often use this spell on defenseless wizard and witches or those who are too far injured to defend themselves, so don't count on being able to simply block it with a shield. It is called the 'torture spell' for a reason – it makes every single nerve in your body feel pain."
He looks up at the room. He knows most of them can't even grasp what a medium amount of pain is, let alone the Cruciatus curse.
"You may do this one, Remus," because I can't say it in front of Devlin. The werewolf lifts his wand to the little rat, still under the effects of Imperius and waiting patiently for it's torture, and whispers the curse.
The rat is twitching and withering and shrieking in pain. The whole of the class leans backwards at the sound.
"Does that give you a small idea of what it means to be put under the Cruciatus Curse? If held under the curse for long enough, the effects stop being temporary and become permanent. Brain damage, coma, seizures – these can all be induced by the curse. Every person's limits are different, therefore it may take one person two minutes to become permanently damaged while another person may be able to handle hours without breaking. Don't leave here thinking this curse is good for revenge – you have to know that you may permanently damage someone."
Abruptly, Remus lifts the curse and the rat falls still, panting.
Devlin can feel his heart slamming against his chest. He tries to stop the words before they tumble out of his mouth, but can't.
"That wasn't half as painful as it should have been," and now there are at least thirty eyes on him and Devlin wishes he could stop himself. "You have to mean it. You didn't."
His eyes are on Remus' and the werewolf is looking at him sympathetically and Devlin turns to the students, just to get away from those eyes.
"Devlin brings up a good point," his father says, looking at him. "The unforgivables are not a bunch of curses you can simply say and expect them to happen. You have to mean to hurt someone. You have to want it. You have to feel it deep in your core and mean it with every magical fiber if the spell is really going to any decent effect. As a teacher once said to me, you could probably all stand up, point your wands at me, and say "Avada Kedavra" and nothing would happen."
Devlin turns away from his father and to the floor again. He just wants it to be over.
"The Killing Curse, the final of the three, is of course the most infamous. There is no way for you to block the curse or save yourself from dying, unless you still have time to dodge it or use a non-magical shield. Keep in mind that it reduces most inanimate things to ash. There is only one known way to survive the Killing Curse and it is not something you can do for yourself. When I was a baby Voldemort told my mother to step aside. She didn't. She said "take me instead" and he killed her. She died for me – a very powerful type of magic, and so when Voldemort turned his wand to me, that protection was now with me, in my blood." The class has gone hush. Devlin, of course, knows this story. He wonders if his father knows why Voldemort told Lily Potter to step aside – why he gave her a chance at life.
His father lifts his wand to the rat, still looking at the students, and says "Avada Kedavra." The rat falls dead and Devlin almost thinks it is probably happier. There is a collective gasp around the room.
"That is the Killing Curse. There is nothing spectacular about it's appearance. The only significant thing about it is that it kills without symptom – it leaves behind an apparently unwounded 'healthy' corpse and the fact that, in order to perform this spell, you must want to kill. Not mean to kill, but want it. There are powerful wizard's, like myself, that have learned to trick my magic into interpreting a 'need to do it' as a 'want', but this is not typical."
There is silence.
"We have ten more minutes, you may raise your hand if you have a question."
Devlin sighs openly in relief and when the last student has filed out the door and he starts heading that way too. His father puts a hand on his shoulder.
"There are four houses, Devlin."
Of course. They had only done the Gryffindor Slytherin houses…
And so thirty more students file in and his father pulls out another knut…
Hope you liked this chapter. I know it took a little longer than usual, but it is 10 pages long! Ok…9 and one line but still….
What did you think of my Harry on the job, writing? Did I do a good job? I imagine that if Harry had some control over things during a war, he would try to strengthen otherwise venerable populations, which would include children. Especially after Devlin's kidnapping.
In the Near Future: some awesome flying, Hagrid, some creatures, the talk, the journal, an owl, some snakes, etc.
Please REVIEW! I wrote 10 PAGES, that has to count for something, right? I took time out of my sleep to proof-read (something I don't need to do if the story is only for me!) and publish. So, pretty please with cherries on top? Come on guys, 40 people read the last chapter. Be as awesome as MissVenusVixen! Review!
Ask some questions, even. Suggest something. I love ideas for Devlin's childhood with Voldemort, even.