Chapter 6
Christmas morning Eric woke with a start to a rapping on his bedroom window. He was out of bed with a fireball in one hand and his wand in the other before he'd even focused his eyes and cleared away the grogginess of sleep.
"Whoa!" came a muffled voice from beyond the window.
"No need for"
"Any of that!" It was the characteristic stereo of the Weasley twins he realized as he quenched the merry orange flames in his closed fist. But why were they outside his window, he wondered, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Outside my window! The thought cut through the his mind like a knife making his grey eyes widen in shock. "Aww, man!" he groaned as he threw the window wide open, "I wanted to see your faces when the three of you opened those!"
Fred and George laughed out loud, while Harry just floated forward and smiled warmly at him. "Thanks Eric." The green eyed boy said softly. "I've never gotten presents before, this means the world to me."
"Yeah," Fred piped up "Thanks for the gifts, they're awesome!"
"Where'd you get them?" continued George. "Must have cost a small fortune."
"Never even heard of anything like them!" Fred finished.
Eric smirked widely. "I made them," he said smugly, grin widening further at their shocked expressions. "What? Didn't think you were the only people who could make new things did you?" Eric summoned his own coat and flew out the window to float in the air with them. "They're part of a set of nine. One for me, and then one for each of my closest friends."
He frowned suddenly, looking shrewdly at the three of them. "How much of the letter did you three read? I was certain I'd explained everything in the instructions."
"Instructions, he says?" George said swiveling to look at his twin.
"Shame on him, giving orders on Christmas!" Fred agreed.
Harry and Eric sighed. "Watch carefully." The other redhead intoned. Shooting forward slightly the smaller boy touched a finger to the freckled pair's chests and said. "Hear no evil." Both of them continued talking but quickly found they couldn't hear each other. Repeating the action Eric flew back a little.
"Not nice to silence your friends." Fred said, giving Eric a raised orange brow.
"Gonna get pranked for that," continued George.
"Eric wrote a short user's manual in the letter he sent with mine," Harry said, turning the twins attention to him. "Each of the cloaks come with 13 spells. Most of them are things you'd expect to find on a broom, but a few are tailoring charms and then there're three I'm sure have something to do with his time on the streets."
"Little ric's a street rat?" George asked looking surprised.
"I always told you guys how I used to be a street performer to stay fed and clothed…" Stark said drily, "Where did you think I lived?"
"Well, you look like a gypsy." One of the twins shrugged, Eric couldn't tell which one because they were flying around the pair in circles like a pair of sharks.
"Coulda been a carnie," said the other. "It'd explain why you were never hauled in for breaking the statute of secrecy," replied the other, matter-of-factly.
Eric opened his mouth and closed it several times. "I… never actually thought about it." He said finally. "I just remember being heckled by a lot of debunkers. After McGonagall told me about the restrictions I sort of figured they didn't come after me because they couldn't track wandless magic." The four of them hung there, considering, before Eric snapped up and started talking again. "Regardless, the cloaks have five primary abilities - safe flight, household sundries, and three abilities for sneaking around. The cloaks can disillusion, silence noises from the wearer, and cover your scent. I sort of goofed with the sleeves and tails though, they're not long enough to cover your hands or feet and the disillusion effect doesn't extend to your body, so they could be seen if you're not careful; your head too if you have your hood down."
"The commands for those abilities are Hear no evil, See no evil and old spice." Harry finished when Eric stopped.
"Old spice?" the pair asked in unison.
Eric looked down, red faced and kicked at the air. "Smell no evil didn't sound right and smell ya later just sounded dumb." He mumbled. The three of them started laughing again.
"Well, since you just woke up," Harry said
"And it's nearly noon" Fred continued.
"You probably haven't opened your presents yet!" grinned George.
Eric laughed. "Alright, let's see what I got, the auburn haired boy laughed. "I haven't had presents in years!"
The four of them drifted in through Eric's window and the Gryffindor's looked around in interest. "Kinda snug in here," one of the twins said behind him.
"I know you're not the only firsty claw," said the other.
"We get private rooms." Eric explained. "We still share a bath and a small common room though, kind of like renting a flat with friends." Grabbing a small pile of parcels in a tekekine grip Eric pushed out into the 'nest'. "Let's see, this one's from you two," Eric mumbled, suppressing a small shiver at their fox like grins. He sat down in one of the plush leather chairs and tore apart the wrapping. "A toilet seat?" he asked looking at the twins incredulously. The paper was still thick underneath, so he removed the porcelain to find a small assortment of what looked like toys and candy.
"Tricks, and such from Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmead." Fred explained.
"Most of it's pretty harmless," George continued "But you still don't want to be on the receiving end of it."
Nodding, Eric made a note to ask the pair for a detailed explanation of what each item was later. Shuffling through the floating packages he found Harry's next. It looked like a large biscuit tin and when he cracked it open he was immediately assaulted by a wave of frantically hopping chocolate frogs. Catching the lot of them proved to be a bit of a chore. Between the number of items he was already levitating and trying to keep a lid on the tin, which was now jumping like mad as the frogs had realized an avenue of escape, and trying maintain his glare, and not join the roaring laughter of his three friends. Eventually he caught the lot of them and stuffed the final chocolate coffee-bean toad into the tin and collapsed into the soft leather of the chair.
"That was mean…" he pouted, failing to contain a grin as the three of them lit off again, clutching their stomachs.
"Good one Potter!" one of the twins shouted, clapping the black haired boy on the back.
"Keep this up and we might"
"Invite you on a few of our"
"midnight romps!"
Shaking his head the third redhead flipped over the tin he had been about to put down and pulled off a large handful of shrunken trading cards. "Thanks Harry," he growled good naturedly as he canceled the shrinking spell and began flipping through the assorted witches and wizards. Stuffing the deck in his pouch for later he sought out Hermione's gift. Peeling away the wrapper he found a thick leather bound book titled Antonidus' Omnibus: a detailed anthology of forgotten magic. There was a card with the book where the bushy haired genius had found mention of the book in a tome she'd nicked from the restricted section and gotten them each one. He smiled briefly at the thought. Of course Hermione'd gotten herself a copy of a rare book, he'd only known the girl a few short months but already knew she'd never have been able to resist.
The rest of his presents were small things. Blaise had gotten him a small booklet on animagus transformation, Su had sent him Sun Tzu's the art of war, from Padma he had received a small picture book that sung Hindu lullabies when opened and Penny had given him 'a beginners guide to Numerology and Arithmancy'.
"I think I'm noticing a pattern here." George said wryly.
"Oh, shut up." Eric said, blushing. "I'm a Claw, and proud of it."
"Don't worry, ickle ricky," said Fred.
"We still love you!" grinned George.
Eric turned their hair to daisies and ran off laughing, chased by a howling pair of Weasleys and a laughing Harry.
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The rest of the day was spent playing out in the snow, exploring the castle and making a general nuisance of themselves. Harry and Eric were comparing Christmas presents over a snow war with the twins when they were mysteriously hit from behind by a Slytherin named Andrea. She and Percy added a third side to the war which had begun to flag at that point. The girl was a holy terror with a wand and had everyone, even Percy grinning by the time they called it quits and trudged back up to the castle for the Christmas feast. The girl turned out be a year ahead of the bookish Weasley and something of a mentor on occasion.
They talked as the table filled with hams, turkey, flaming English puddings and cake; laughing and eating with everyone else as wine and spirits flowed freely up and down the table. Before leaving she asked the pair of them if they'd mind her joining their club. Harry and Eric were happy to accept the curvy black haired girl, bringing a surprisingly genuine smile out of Percy.
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Harry sat on his bed holding one of his Christmas presents clutched tightly in his small hands. 'this cloak belonged to your father.' The note read. His father, oh how he wanted to know the man. 'he left this in my possession before he died.' Who's possession though? He'd tried talking to the teachers on occasion, but everyone was so sentimental, he knew they were all viewing the man with rose colored glasses and that made it hard to really listen to them talk about the pair of them, knowing nothing they said would really be the truth, but rather nostalgia. 'I thought it was high time it was returned to you, use it well.'
Use it well.
He hadn't shown the cloak to anyone, Ron had already been rude enough when he'd seen Eric's gift and he wasn't sure he was ready to share something like this. Why did they have to fight so much? Why in the bleeding hells did Ron have to be such a prat? Couldn't he just apologize to Hermione? Harry felt a slight melancholy as he thought of his erstwhile friend. He'd never had many friends and as much as Eric had changed that for him he was still reluctant to have lost Ron, one of his first in this new world.
Use it well.
He stood up, ignoring Ron's snores and put on the cloak. Unlike Eric's coat this was true invisibility, the transparent, watery material didn't leave any distortions in the air and was large enough to completely hide a pair of full-grown men. Eric's gift was thoughtful and would allow him to fly during the summer, but his father's cloak gave him the entire castle on a platter. But where should he go? The kitchens? No, he wasn't really hungry after the small feast a few hours ago. He could check out the green houses, the higher numbered ones held some really fascinating stuff according to his Puff friends Neville and Susan. He blushed slightly at the thought of Susan before brushing the thought off. As cool as the place was, it was far better with friends. He thought about the forbidden forest for a moment. Eric and Hagrid talked about the creatures there every time they visited the giants hut, but again that was something that was better explored with a friend and he wasn't ready to share the cloak just yet.
The library is a possibility too he mused as he pushed his way past the portrait of the fat lady. Ma'am Pince would be away sleeping and with the cloak chances of Filch or Peeves bothering him were reduced to nil. Despite Eric's apparent lack of interest he and Hermione were still itching to know what it was the three headed dog was hiding.
Harry spent the next hour walking around the castle opening doors he usually ignored, searching for anything of interest. Most rooms were unused classrooms, bringing him to wonder what had happened in the last thousand years to make the castle so deserted. The common rooms changed regularly, he knew, to accommodate the current student body, but the castle itself had remained largely static since it was originally built by the four founders. Eric and Hermione had finally gotten him to read 'Hogwarts a History' last month and he had to admit it was an interesting read, not at all like most of his dry stuffy text books. The pages had been full of anecdotes and stories about the founders, famous professors and headmasters, and various social upheavals that had touched the student body.
When the walls had first been raised, the quartette had barely had a dozen disciples, all of them had been the founder's personal apprentices, whom they had taught equally, choosing rather to specialize in things they had the most passion for rather than continuing the tradition of one master for everything. Over the next 50 years they had acquired a throng of nearly 15,000 students and teachers under one roof, many of them living at and providing for the castle, others forming the local village of Hogsmead. Due to the significantly advanced state of medical care wizards had over their civilian brethren the population of the British Isles had been a hundred to one, Muggles to wizards, within a population in the low millions.
Now their graduating classes were usually less than 50 and the wizarding population the country didn't even break twenty thousand, to the forty-two million living in England alone. Harry was caught up in his musings when he ran across a door that was already open. Curious he pushed his way inside. It was another unused classroom like the last few dozen, but here the desks were pushed up against the wall to make room for an enormous mirror. The ornate gold wrought frame stood easily high enough for Hagrid to use it as a full length dressing mirror. It's bottom had a pair of large clawed feet and it leaned up against a pillar. It was quite beautiful and he shuddered as he found himself gauging how much the piece might be worth. He was spending far, far too much time with Eric. His examination of the frame paused for a moment as he found an inscription across the uppermost frame.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
Looking at it confused for several minutes he shrugged. There was something about the words that tugged at the corner of his mind, but it was brushed aside as he pondered what was on the face of the mirror. There, bottom center, was a shadow. Why was there a shadow? he wondered, furiously. His cloak was far in advance of Eric's gift, he'd seen the difference in the mirror in his dorm. Whereas his friends coat had left an indistinct distortion of itself unless you were moving quickly, his father's cloak hadn't even shown a ripple of whatever form was hidden under it no matter how fast or slow it was moving. He walked closer to the mirror only to have his image become progressively more distinct.
He stood right before it and saw himself exactly as he was, silvery cloak and all. He snorted. An enchanted mirror he thought, probably a magical security thing- only this world would make something capable of seeing invisible intruders that only worked when they stood in front of it. He sighed and was about to turn away when more shadows began to appear in the mirror. One by one they resolved into figures of a man and a woman.
More invisible people, or some further security feature? Maybe he was about to meet the people this mirror was meant to warn? No, that didn't seem right. The woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air – they weren't talking to him so maybe she and the others existed only in the mirror?
She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair like Eric and her eyes —her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up all over, just as Harry's did and their faces were remarkably similar.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?" Harry saw his reflection pale and gulp as he looked at the pair with wide, almost bulging eyes.
The two figures just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees — Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.
The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.
He tore away from the image and fled to the door. Turning back briefly he whispered "I'll be back…" and left.
Under his cloak Harry ran like the hounds of hell were on his heels. He had to find Eric, the redhead would know what to do about this he thought frantically. And if he didn't have some obscure piece of knowledge or wisdom in that oversized head of his he'd know where to look for the answer. He only wished he had the boys coat so he could go faster. Harry almost stumbled and fell flat on his face as said garment materialized, flowing and folding itself around him, and he would have too if not for the enchantments on the leather. Catching himself on the impervious charm Harry shot forward like a bullet, over the banister and up two floors to the corridor that hid Ravenclaw tower.
Quickly snapping out an answer to the doors riddle, alive without breath; cold as death, never thirsty, ever drinking, all in mail, never clinking.
"Fish!" he spat after a few moments pondering. Harry charged through to Eric's room as soon as the wall opened.
Landing outside his friends door he stuffed his father's cloak in a pocket and banged on it loudly, remembering the boys reaction to being woken suddenly and not wanting to have to defend himself when he needed the boys help. The door opened mid strike to reveal the redheaded boy, brow raised, fireball in one hand, book hanging out of the other. "Oh, Harry?" he asked head tilted to the side. The boy doused the fireball and pulled an expensive looking watch out of a pouch on his belt. "I know I keep odd sleeping habits sometimes, but what are you doing calling on me at… 2 in the morning?"
"Put on your coat, I've got something I need you to look at."
The boy's brows raised even further and there was something dangerous in those flat grey eyes of his, but Eric did as he was told, marking his book and summoning the leathers around him. Harry watched curiously as the material flowed out of nowhere to enfold his friend like a supple brown wraith. "Lead on, maestro."
Nodding, Harry led his friend back to the room he had just left and pointed him to the mirror, explaining how he had found it, only editing his story slightly. His friend was visibly intrigued at the thought of not only finding a large, but potentially rare, artifact that could see thought his enchantments and stepped in front of it. Harry stood back for several minutes before getting impatient and walking up to stand beside him. He was about to ask the sorcerer what he thought when he saw his friends face. Eric's face appeared completely drained of blood and tears flowed freely down his cheeks. As his hand fell on the younger boy's shoulder Eric drew in a shuddering breath and turned to him, eyes haunted.
"H-how d-did you f-find this?" his friend asked, voice soft and stuttering.
"I told you…" Harry said, voice equally pained. "I was exploring rooms on my way to the library when I ran across this one. It showed me my parents. My family, for several generations back." He directed the boys attention to the inscription at the top. "I think that might have something to do with it." He explained, pointing. Eric read the words aloud, voice hitching as he stumbled over the pronunciations.
"You realize the letters are backwards, right?" Eric asked hiccupping. Harry looked at his friend stunned for a second before smacking himself in the face. Erised, letters backwards, spelled backwards it was desire, the inscription was in mirror script! He remembered the red haired boy talking about it during one of their weekly meetings, how Muggle literature thought it was used in curses and wondering if it really worked.
"Mirror script…" he groaned, "Flip it around it says I show y…"
"you not your face, but your heart's desire." Eric finished. "Yeah. It explains a lot. And as to how it sees us while invisible, it's probably the same mechanism that it uses to pull our deepest dreams from our minds. Some form of mind magic or other. I have to wonder how it got past my shields though. I never felt anything."
"So what did it show you?" Harry asked. "I saw my parents and what could have been the rest of my family. I'm fairly sure they're all dead now." he finished, a deep melancholy in his tone.
"I saw my mother." Eric whispered after a long pause. Harry looked back at his friend to see tears at the edges of his eyes again, his face turned to the mirror hungrily.
"That-that's not all there was, was it."
"No." the boy replied, quietly. "It wasn't." turning away from the mirror the redhead slumped to the ground and leaned back against the gold and glass, hugging his knees to his chest. "Looking at this," he continued after a while "I wonder how you're even still friends with a monster like me." He laughed humorlessly. "Hell, Weasley's a selfish, useless prat who doesn't deserve to look at you, let alone be in the same room with you, but me? Looking at this and knowing what it is, I can't help but wonder if I'm any better."
Harry sat down by his friend and put an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. "C'mon mate, you've always done right by everyone you could, me especially. What could be so wrong about what you saw? You said you saw your mother after all, so did I."
Eric chuckled bitterly. "You're a good friend, Harry. Better than I deserve." The boy drew in a deep shuddering breath and spoke tonelessly. "I saw my mother and someone who could have been my father, but there were others in the background as well. Remember how I told you how I got my dark fire? Four men came to my house Easter the year after I turned five." He hesitated again, only briefly before continuing. "They wore black robes and brandished sticks at her." He said, causing Harry to stiffen. "I only saw their faces for a split second, and could never remember them afterwards no matter how hard I tried, but I could see them clearly in the mirror. They were crucified, with black flames burning beneath them. My black flames." He paused again, shuddering. "I've no idea how an image in a mirror could convey an idea like that, but I knew they were mine. My mother was kneeling in front of me, hugging me, and she… s-she was forgiving me!" he spat, the tears back thick and fast. "She was forgiving me for being too weak to save her, for having the black flames, for coming to Hogwarts so I could train to be like the people that killed her. She even forgave me for seeking vengeance on those men."
Harry wracked his brain for what to do in a situation like this. It was hard to think of anything, but he vaguely recalled a soap opera Petunia liked that had something a little like this. Grabbing his friends shoulders, he pulled the long haired boy into his chest and simply held him as he cried. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing, but it seemed to help and that was all that really mattered.
"You're not a bad person for wanting vengeance." Harry told him when the boy finally stopped crying. "I probably would too if I didn't already know that the bastard who did her in was burning in his own personal hell." Harry gave a barking laugh, "it's how I got this scar, after all." He said pointing to the lightning bolt on his forehead.
"Sowulo." Eric whispered. "A sudden, violent, change for the better, the end of a war. A pity it took your parents' lives to do it." Eric muttered. "At least I got to know my mother for a little bit."
"I dunno," Harry said sadly "if you still feel the pain of her loss so deeply, maybe I was the lucky one for never being able to know mine before she was taken away."
"Don't say that." Eric whispered, pushing away from his green eyed friend. "Don't ever say something like that. Even for all the pain it brings there were a lot of good times too. Would you like to hear about her?" They sat there for several hours, listening to Eric telling stories about the beautiful doctor Maria Evelyn Stark and how she'd inspired her son with her kindness and the words - never stop learning, for only understanding brings compassion and through it peace. "of course, she wasn't nearly as much of a saint as I make her out to be. I didn't really understand it back then, but she and gran were always fighting. While they both loved me, they had very different views on the world and especially how to raise me."
He laughed. "I remember their last fight; It was Saturday, mum was out of the research lab for the weekend and Gran was making us breakfast. Gran was a god fearing Irish Catholic woman and was complaining about how mum refused to let her take me to church. Mums argument was the same as always, 'any god you have to fear is one you should be overthrowing, not worshiping.' "
They sat there in silence for several long minutes. "I better get back to sleep." Eric said finally. "I'll go and research this thing for you in depth tomorrow."
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Dumbledore watched as the door closed behind the two boys, a thoughtful look on his face. He had learned a lot about the two boys. Listening to them talk had allayed a lot of his fears, whilst at the same time confirming others. Eric was not as firmly in the light as the old warlock felt safe with, but neither was he as dark as he had feared the boy to be and Harry, the dear child, was much better off than he had hoped for if that little display meant anything.
Deciding he had a lot to think about the old man dropped his invisibility spell and headed for his office, no longer feeling guilty that he had put a compulsion on the scared boys Christmas card.
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Over the next week Eric and Harry split their time between the Library, the mirror room and horsing around with the Weasley twins. On the fourth day Eric and Ma'am Pince found a book on Mirror magic among the more esoteric texts in the Hogwarts main library and took it to the mirror room where Harry was waiting, staring at his reflection, a teary smile on his face.
"Oh, hello Eric. You found the book?"
"Yeah," the redhead said, worried. He gently pried his friend away from the glass and over to one of the desks, opening the book to the marked page. "The mirror of Erised" Eric read "is one of a set of seven mirrors crafted in the early 700's by a German sorcerer on commission by noted enchantress Claudia Elisabeth. While widely regarded as a cursed object due to their user's tendency to waste away in front of them, the artifacts were actually created as a teaching tool. The purpose and power of the Mirrors of Desire is their ability to reveal the deepest and most desperately held desire of the viewer, even if they do not consciously realize such on their own."
The chapter further detailed the magic behind the creation of the mirrors, a list of people known to have died before them and what it was that had so enraptured them. "The images in the mirror are neither real nor often practical" the book warned "and the happiest person in the world would look into the mirror and see naught but themselves."
"And astute observation" came an ancient, reedy voice from behind them causing the two boys to whirl around, wands at the ready. "And exactly why I must ask the pair of you to stop coming here. It doesn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." The wizened man smiled pleasantly, a very familiar kind of twinkle in his eyes. Eric felt the ancient man's probe skitter along the walls of his mind and saw Harry react to an attempted intrusion as well.
With a glance and a nod, the pair of them lowered their wands and projected toward the man. With all due respect Dumbledore, it's quite rude to seek entrance to another's mind without garnering invitation, his mental tone quietly hostile.
Headmaster Dumbledore, please forgive Eric, he is often… overzealous, but he does have a point. Harry's own tone conveyed embarrassment and sincerity with an underlying hint of iron.
Albus raised a brow but spoke aloud none the less. "A fascinating tool legillimancy," the ancient man replied, tone offhand. "Regular use has an unfortunate effect of leaving the user, ah… incapable of holding the ability entirely in check. Though I must say, your defenses are the most unusual I've come across in my very long lifetime."
Eric looked at the man strangely, expression openly confused and Harry shrugged. Dumbledore sighed and, remarkably, explained. "For most, Occlumancy is a result of long periods of meditation organizing and focusing the mind so that when an intruder comes knocking all they find there is either an impenetrable barrier, a single thought used as a barrier or the skilled use of other unimportant memories to direct and deflect the searcher from important areas. Your minds are different, offering impassable walls of what appears to be strong emotion with a singular glaring flaw you seem to use as a door; but that is neither here nor there. I'm moving the mirror to its new home tomorrow. "
"A new home?" Harry asked, fear tingeing his voice. Dumbledore couldn't take the mirror away, he wanted to see his parents again!
"Yes, and I must ask you and your friend not to come looking for it either. It would be quite disappointing for two such promising young wizards to die before your times."
"Because of the curse?" Eric asked incredulously.
"Such as human nature is a curse," the white haired administrator said with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth "yes, because of the curse I suppose." With that the wizened man ushered the two boys out and closed the door behind them.
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The rest of break passed in a blur as Eric worked like a man possessed. The mirror was gone just as Dumbledore had promised and both he and Harry had begun having nightmares about their own experiences with the relic. Harry refused to talk about his dreams, but from the towering fury and drop in magical control the boy had shown for a week afterwards it was clear enough how he felt.
Eric spent most of his time either helping Percy teach the sixth year Andrea about wandless magic or researching elemental conjuring and related attacks. Staying busy helped keep the nightmares at bay and he was determined to have evocation down to a science by the end of the year. His own way was wicked draining and while good for strength training he wasn't particularly keen on running out of juice if he ever got to find those men in the mirror. He had their faces, now he was determined to match names to them.
New Years passed with little fanfare and soon the rest of the school returned, with all that entailed - students, a feast, classes and drama. Eric turned bright red as each of the girls he'd given presents to insisted on pouncing on him and thanking him for their coats. Well, except for Penny, evil girl picked him up and hugged him like he was a cute little kid; it was horrible and by the way everyone was laughing he was sure his reputation had just taken a nose dive.
Despite this however his little club had continued to grow, adding, on average a new student every week. Things had gotten far enough that he was having to rely on other longer term members of the little group, particularly his inner circle, to assist in teaching the now wide range of skill levels present as there were now far too many other kids for him to give them his personal attention. Ninety three all told, ranging from most of the first and second years, to a fair number of the third and the occasional 4th or 5th year The lowest attendance of any of the houses was still the Slytherins and purebloods, in general, seemed to be the slowest to warm up to first attending the gatherings and then being willing to learn from 'that mudblood firsty'. He'd had to prove himself several times to a variety of students in one on one duels using his wandless magic. Nearly all of his opponents lost and even more went away angry, muttering to themselves about cheating, but a few stayed on, quite eager to learn his 'new' form or magic.
All things being even it was only a matter of time before he was called to the headmasters office. Eric wasn't to be disappointed however as two weeks after the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw quidditch match He was summoned from Ravenclaw tower to meet the old man shortly before diner.
Eric passed the gargoyle with Professor Flitwick and entered Dumbledore's office to find it already quite occupied. On either side of the room stood half a dozen people shouting at each other with Dumbledore in the middle futilely trying to play peacemaker. As his diminutive escort closed the door behind them Eric looked around the room trying to identify everyone. On one side stood Neville Longbottom, Pomona Sprout, a severe looking woman with a ridiculous hat and a bunch of stiff suited men with briefcases who gave the impression of being lawyers. On the other were several more legal looking stiffs, this time in robes, Professor Snape, Draco Malfoy and what looked like an older copy of the boy who he'd seen at the bank on his first trip to Diagon Alley. Mr. Malfoy he was sure, so that would make the weird lady on the other side…Neville's mom? No too old, Grandmother?
"Ah! Professor Flitwick!" Dumbledore shouted, cutting through the bickering like a drowning man looking for a life raft. "And I see you've located young Eric, good, good. Now perhaps we can put an end to this."
"If you don't mind my asking, professors, what's this all about?"
If Dumbledore had tried to answer Eric didn't know because at his words the shouting mass had turned their ire upon him and if anything had gotten louder! Eric stood there a scowl on his face for all of 30 seconds before diving for his power. There was a sudden wave of pressure and a telepath shout for silence that caused most of the room to stumble, turning white and grab their ears in pain.
"Now," Eric said slowly; ever the showman he causing the air in the office to vibrate as he spoke to keep everyone off balance "would someone like to tell me why I am here? Calmly, and one at a time if you please."
Dumbledore smiled, amused by his display and took the lead. "It would seem that there was an, a… disagreement… between Mr.'s Malfoy and Longbottom earlier today and Mr. Longbottoms response placed young Draco in the hospital wing for about an hour. Madame Pomphrey had him sorted out quickly enough, but Draco and his father are claiming lasting damages from use of dark magic. Naturally Augusta, Neville's Grandmother," he explained at Eric's look of confusion "protested. You were brought here because Neville sited you as his teacher."
Nodding, Eric turned to Neville and projected Apprentice, explain yourself.
Neville looked startled for a moment, as Eric was rarely formal during meetings, before projecting back. It was self-defense, Master Stark, he returned, projecting the memory of the confrontation alongside his words. He attacked me, saying he was looking for someone to practice his hexes on and I didn't manage to avoid it. He hit me with a leg locker, so I blew him and his cronies away with the first lesson you taught us, telekinesis.
You threw them all the way across the hallway? Eric returned, viewing the memory, an impressed expression crossing his face. Well done Apprentice, impressive power. Sloppy form though, you wasted a lot of energy, but I'll forgive it as your first battle situation.
Yes, master. Neville returned
You know what this means though, don't you?
There was a moment of hesitation before Neville's dejected thoughts flowed back across the connection. I'll be joining the duelers next lesson, won't I?
Abso-fucking-lutely! Can't have any student of mine making a showing like that in public! Eric returned a grin on both his face and his thoughts. I've been studying high level dueling recently and found, I think, a way to replicate that move where they bat away an opponent's spells with their wand! He giggled at the trepidation now pouring from the blond boys mind. Don't worry so much Neville! Dueling is fun! And I won't pit you against anyone too far beyond your level unless you feel confident.
Turning back to the group at large Eric spoke. "I've had time to review the situation. There was no dark magic involved and I'm quite sure this is a clear cut case of self-defense by Neville here, though I'd very much appreciate if Ma'am Longbottom stayed back." He gave the severe looking woman a dark look. "She and I have things to discuss."
"How could you have had time to review anything!?" Mr. Malfoy hissed. "You just looked at him! And who are you anyways that we should listen to you?"
Eric ignored the man and projected an illusion of the event for the entire room to watch. Most of the room watched dumfounded as the light streamed out of Eric's hands to play the memory like a video, complete with Draco's snide speech about Hufflepuff's being good target dummies.
"See? See where the little cretin throws my son down the hallway? His eyes flash red and he uses no wand! A clear case of dark magic!"
"Actually," Eric spoke up, his voice cutting through the sudden din of multiple arguing voices, "his eyes flash purple not red, and that is a simple application of the levitation charm. Performed wandlessly, I'll admit, but that's what I teach."
"Teach!? You're a first year! Dumbledore, how could you allow an eleven year old to be one of your professors? I'll lodge a complaint with the rest of the board! I'll see you sacked!" snarled the platinum blond man.
"Actually Eric is not one of my professors." Dumbledore interjected calmly. "His classes are held during meetings of a club the boy put together, and completely unconnected with the school proper. Eric's teacher status is much like that of a chess master to a new or junior player, nothing formal or official," the wizened man finished.
"And, what of his faculty advisors?" Lucius challenged, scrambling for something to attack.
"A pair of prefects," Dumbledore answered, plucking a lemon drop from a dish on his desk. "Both of whom are students of his incidentally…"
"Headmaster, if I may…" sneered Snape "perhaps, in light of these events, we have been giving the boy too much freedom to pursue this. A pair of prefects, under the tuition of the boy at that, might not be enough oversight. It would certainly go towards allaying Mr. Malfoy's concerns if a proper Professor were to instruct and oversee this club." Severus finished silkily.
"Are you volunteering your time then, professor?" Eric asked innocently, earning himself a nasty look from Snape.
"I want my son trained." Everybody turned to look at Mr. Malfoy in shock, Draco included.
"And what makes you think I would train him?" Eric asked, quietly, eyes narrowed at the blonds.
Lucius Malfoy smiled nastily. "I head the board of Governors." he said smirking. "Professor or club leader I can have you shut down. Unless you'd prefer expulsion?" he asked trying to appear intimidating. "Your wand snapped, living as a pariah among the muggles, forbidden to practice magic."
Eric summoned a fireball in each hand, lightning running up and down both arms. "And what makes you think that'd be the healthier option? Your son isn't already in my class because he refused to be taught by, and I quote, 'an uppity mudblood and his bloodtraitor lackeys.'" Mr. Malfoy gave his son a dirty look and tightened his grip on his wand, a curse for the red haired brat ready on his lips when Professor Dumbledore stepped in.
"That will be quite enough, Eric," the headmaster said sharply, a dangerous edge to his voice that Eric respected. "As Headmaster this has gone quite far enough! This is a simple disciplinary action that should have been handled by the heads of house. Mr. Malfoy, 20 points from Slytherin for attacking another student. Mr. Longbottom, 10 points from Hufflepuff for overreacting to the situation, you should have used what Mr. Stark taught you to dispel and disarm before alerting a teacher. Mr. Stark, 30 points from Ravenclaw for neither practicing nor teaching your disciples proper restraint. Filius, as a former dueling expert and head of Mr. Stark's house would you be willing to oversee his Saturday classes. You've expressed an interest in the magic before, this would be an opportunity to dissect it firsthand." Professor Flitwick looked pensive for a moment before nodding his assent.
"Young Mr. Malfoy, after a proper apology to both Mr.'s Stark and Longbottom you will begin attending the sorcery club meetings and all three of you will receive detentions." There was a cry of protest from Draco and Dumbledore glared at him. "A week's worth of them with someone other than your head of house." When Draco looked as if he was about to protest Albus asked if he would like to try for a month's worth and dismissed the family. Mr. Malfoy promised his son would be ready with his apologies before the next club meeting and left.
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Out in the hall Lucius was fuming. He swept down the spiraling marble stair and dismissed his solicitors. They were the expensive kind, human rather than goblins and mostly former Ravenclaw's and Slytherin. It was a pity he hadn't gotten to properly sic them on that bitch Longbottom, but that was a trivial matter compared to what he was about to deal with; his son had been in the presence of power and turned it down. He wasn't particularly bothered by the fact that Draco had insulted and alienated the mudblood, no, it was that the boy had offered very real power of the type he'd only seen his master use on the occasion he wanted to really scare people into submission, by someone who used it casually. Fire and lightning weren't often used in wizarding duels due to the power versus effect ratio, being so much worse than common offensive spells, and wandless magic, while not unheard of, was infinitely more costly for any appreciable effect.
When he was sure no one else was around he grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and literally threw the boy into an unused classroom. It seemed that it was high time he explained the facts of life to the boy.
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Meanwhile up in Dumbledore's office another confrontation was ongoing. Augusta Longbottom was currently looking down her nose and glowering at Eric. The boy however had created a barrier around the door and fireplace preventing her from leaving.
"You will leave it be, Master Stark." The old buzzard snapped primly, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her handbag. "That is a family matter and will be dealt with from within the family."
"So, what," Eric challenged "so you can try to kill him again?" he said loudly, causing the headmaster to pause in his intentions to distract the boy.
"Kill him? Augusta, what's this about?" the ancient former transfiguration teacher demanded, eyes ablaze.
"Neville's family," Eric snarled the words before the elder Longbottom could explain herself "has taken the last six years to repeatedly demean and physically attack him in a manner that would have any sane court screaming in outrage."
"We did no such thing, boy! We're a noble family and well within our rights to test our children for magical ability!" the Longbottom matriarch sniffed.
"You allowed your cousin to repeatedly chase after him, throwing spells, brandishing sharp objects, tossing him from the roof of the house and trying to drown Neville!" Eric shouted. "It's a wonder he doesn't have PTSD!"
"Algee has always been a bit off, but we had him well in hand, Neville was never in any real danger! It's not as if he was a squib." The woman replied crisply.
"And if he was, then what?" the redheaded sorcerer snapped. "He'd be dead and swept under the rug? Better pushing up daisies than besmirching the name of Longbottom?"
"Why I never!" the grey haired woman gasped, her vulture hat quivering.
"That's right, you didn't." Eric pressed darkly. "As much as you expressed you displeasure with Algee you never tried to stop him. You never protected or cared for Neville like you should. I wouldn't expect a grandmother to still be motherly, but constantly demeaning him and telling him how he'd never measure up to his father is no way to go about it."
Dumbledore raised a brow but otherwise said nothing. He was facing a bit of a conundrum. Did he curb Eric's excesses and try to discipline him, or did he see how deep the rabbit hole ran? The boy was obviously trying to help Neville but whether it would help or hinder the blond though was the question. Eric wasn't doing well at convincing his old classmate of anything and he found it odd that the careful genius would do this so recklessly in front of him. That wasn't like the boy at all. What was his game?
"My son's wand is more than enough for him!" Mrs. Longbottom snarled, bringing Dumbledore back to the conversation.
"And It's unsuited to him. Even his teachers agree that the bonding is uneven and irregular. Ten galleons is a pittance to someone of your caliber, hell it's a pittance to me! Is your pride in your son really worth stunting your grandson's casting?"
"How dare you!" she hissed, drawing her wand finally. "You interfere where you are not welcome, in matters you do not understand! There was nothing wrong with my son, nothing wrong with his wand, and certainly nothing wrong with my family! Save Neville… most magical children show their power by three, six at the latest! His didn't show up until he was ten!"
"Then how is he one of the strongest students outside of my inner circle?" The elderly witch looked like she had been slapped, her mouth gaping lake a fish. "Wandless magic takes ten times the amount of power to learn a spell before the student learns enough control for mage sight. Neville's still working on that lesson, but he's still made it that far, something only four outside my inner circle have managed. Yet still, he keeps up. All he needed was to be told he was worth something by someone he had no reason to believe would lie to him." Dumbledore, back me up here.
So that's your game is it? It hadn't taken Dumbledore much longer than his own question to figure out what Eric's cross-purpose for holding this scene in his office was. Neville was suffering and, from the reports he'd gotten over the year on the red haired wrecking-ball, Eric was going out of his way to correct that. From what he had read and heard the boys first confrontation with the Longbottom heir had alerted him to the problem and he had not reacted well. Not at all, if reports were true, going so far as to reduce the chubby blond to tears and night-terrors without so much as a word. Ever since, Eric had driven himself to help the boy, pushing him weekly to improve his casting, schoolwork and confidence. This confrontation was to be the crown jewel of Eric's battle of self and one the boy was smart enough to know he wouldn't win, at least not personally, which was why he'd staged the attack within the office of someone who could. He, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, holder of a dozen prestigious titles commanded respect and authority by reputation even with the majority of his detractors. Eric was airing the Longbottom clan's dirty laundry in front of him with the hopes of cementing the changes he'd been making to the boy by applying real pressure to a place where he and his words, no matter how true and sharp, could not hope to penetrate- the Lord of Longbottom Manor.
"Augusta," Dumbledore said calmly "as rude as the boy is, he has a point." Albus fought the urge to chuckle as his former student's back straightened and a pout tried to hide itself at his support of the boy. His next words would have an enormous impact on the quiet boy in the corner so he chose them carefully. "Neville's teachers have noticed a marked increase in the boys ability in class as his confidence has improved and most believe they can trace it back to young Mr. Stark's influence. Neville may not be Frank, but surely you can give him a chance?"
Bravo, subtly supporting us both while simultaneously guilting her into doing things my way. It seems I might owe you a personal favor now, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir.
Albus' quiet smile turned up a notch and Augusta crumbled. It wasn't a visible thing mind you, she was a proper English woman after all, but from the look in her eyes Dumbledore could tell she was going to bend. "I can have one of the prefects escort Mr. Longbottom to Diagon Alley this Saturday to pick up his second wand," the headmaster continued, eyes twinkling. "There's no reason he cannot use Frank's wand as well," he said offering the woman a compromise "and the license for having two wands shouldn't be hard to come by with my recommendation," he continued, handing the 70 year old woman a signed note. "Unless you'd like to pick him up yourself?"
Augusta nodded slowly, took the note and left through the flue.
"Eric…" The two manipulators turned toward the weak voice at the back of the room where Neville was sitting, "thank you." With a bow to the Headmaster, he too left.
Heaving a great sigh Eric collapsed onto a large fluffy arm chair near his desk. "Well, that was fun…not." Eric said, sounding drained. "Thanks for backing me up there Headmaster. I knew this confrontation was coming, but hadn't expected it until this summer. I'm not entirely sure what I would have done then. I had a vague idea of somehow proving Nev's worth to his family, putting him through his paces like some show pony, but nothing concrete." He huffed an exhausted laugh before continuing. "As if that would have even worked. I'd have probably ended up killing Algee or something and ruining the whole plot."
"Indeed," the white haired man said simply, heading back to his wing backed chair. "And a fine performance it was as well, though I'm still going to have to punish you for it. I am curious though, did you set up for Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Malfoy's confrontation, or was that their own doing?"
"A not so happy coincidence, sir. I expected the little ponce to run afoul of one or more of my students and get walloped for it, his type is predictable after all, but this situation? No, I'd expected it to go through the heads of house at worst. Like me and Ronald Weasley the boy is a bully well used to getting his own way, but where I mess with people's heads, Draco is like Ron, full of vitriol but lacking the brains or power to give it bite."
"Yes, I did notice that about you." Dumbledore said through interlaced fingers. "Very Slytherin by the way."
"Not really, sir. Being nasty isn't a house trait, it can show up as easily in a Puff or Lion as a Snake or Claw. The thing I don't get is where Slytherin fell. Their credo is to build oneself up using all around you, using all paths to fulfill your goals, but outside of my friend Blaise that seems to be an alien concept among the elite of Slytherin house. They prefer to tear others down so that they might lie atop the ashes. It's hardly a power base if the people who support you aren't able to be of best use. In Belfast having an army of minions where only your inner circle amounted to anything was considered a sign of weakness, whereas a hierarchy of anything else was the measure of your strength."
"I believe that and the deteriorating relations between Slytherin and the other three houses are the influence of the recent Dark Lord, Voldemort. Inter-house relationships have always been a little rocky, what with the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, but up until the muggle world wars it had always been a point of friendly competition. I must admit though, I'm surprised you're aware enough to admit to being a bully."
"Ha, that's hardly special, professor. Lots of people are bully's it's just a question of whether or not they've any skill at it. Hell, look at Fred and George, two of my closest friends and some of the best people you'll ever meet; but they have the entire school running scared, upper forms included. Very few people want to piss them off for fear of their pranks. It's bullying plain and simple, in the civilian world they even have a special word for what sets Fred and George apart from normal bullies, they call it hazing."
"Yes, I've heard of that. It's not quite accurate though, the twins are rarely malicious." Dumbledore countered.
"And that's why people like them. They fear becoming the Weasley's next victims, but the two of them play it off well enough that everyone thinks it's all in good fun so long as they aren't actively the target. Percy tries to match them, but because of his focus and demeanor all he really does is come off as pompous and officious, which on a teenager just means he's laughed at as a teacher's pet. The prefect thing has helped his reputation a bit, but it's made his efforts even worse. Shit, even timid little Hermione tries to boss people around and threaten them to be good little students."
"It would seem that looking in the mirror has given you quite the interesting outlook on life." The old man said smiling.
"Heh, you try having the best and worst dreams of what you could be shoved in your face like that. It opens a person's eyes." Eric rocked forward, putting his hands on his knees. "If you don't mind my asking professor, what do you see when you look in the mirror?"
"Something similar, and yet altogether different. I'm sure you'll understand that that's a very personal question. Now! Since you're still here, let's discuss your detentions. I think…"
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The next meeting of the sorcery club was interesting to say the least. The meeting was well underway when Blaise led Draco into the Room of Requirement. It started slow as one person saw the platinum blond terror, and then spread like a wave as people rushed off to whisper to their friends, the speculations on why their leader had allowed that boy to befoul the room with his presence. Eric was at the back of the room giving a lecture on energy and how emotional states and personalities affected elemental manipulation when Hannah Abbot ran up and whispered in his ear.
"Follow me everyone, I've prepared a treat for this lesson."
Eric strode forward and let his magic announce his presence so the crowd parted like the Red Sea, revealing a decidedly nervous looking Draco and a disgruntled Blaise maintaining a grip on his shoulder.
"Everyone, everyone, settle down. I know you're all wondering why Mr. Malfoy has so magnanimously graced us with his presence." He caught Harry's eye, and the disgust therein, and sent just wait, mate, this is going to be good, I promise. "My dear friend Draco…" Eric paused as there was a round of sniggers at that before waving his arms for silence. "As I was saying, my dear friend Draco Malfoy saw fit to inform me earlier this week that he intended to buy his way into our little gathering." Everyone openly laughed at this, it was common knowledge that if you needed anything from a Malfoy they were going to take you for all you were worth and commonly tried to buy things that were not for sale. Often succeeding, due to their political connections, also purchased more often than not. "Though, of course, everyone here knows my services are free…" relatively speaking "so long as you are willing to take instruction."
Eric let that sink in for a moment before continuing, now looking directly at the red, nearly steaming face of the boy he was humiliating. "Now I'm sure everyone is interested in what Draco intends to pay me with," he said, smirking, as everyone seemed to draw in a breath, anticipating the big reveal. A few of the older students rolled their eyes, but he shrugged it off, he was hamming it up quite a bit after all. "After a little tussle between him and our own Neville Longbottom," everyone looked at the boy who promptly projected the memory of his victory to the room causing a round of applause and laughter to ripple across the room. "Draco's father, Lucius," there was a collective hiss at the name, he'd have to look that up later, but he had a good idea why, "told me that as the head of the board of governors we would train his son or he would shut us down" there was a buzz of angry murmurs around the room at that pronouncement, forcing Eric to wait for silence before continuing. "And in exchange for our services Draco would tender his formal apologies to the club for his… crass behavior. SO! Anyone who has ever been mistreated or maligned by the Malfoy family, I present you their Heir, Draco, that you might formally accept his heartfelt apologies."
He walked over to the purple skinned blond and hugged him roughly with one arm around the shoulder. "Your instruction will begin when they're satisfied. Have fun." Then, with a clap on the back, Eric strode off through the crowd which closed in like a murder of crows over a fresh corpse.
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AN: when asked JKR said that Great Britain's wizarding population was 3000 people, Hogwarts had 600 students and teachers and had 500 ministry workers wasting half a year on building a Quidditch stadium while her class sizes are easily 40 kids and a dozen teachers, suggesting a maximum school size of 300. None of her math really adds up well even with the medieval government models. I think she did this as a way to explain why 1 or 2 dozen people could hold an entire population hostage. 3000 people isn't even a small town; to be capable of running a government you can't have more than 1/3 of workers gone regularly for an entire year so that's 1500 people in the ministry, 600 people in Hogwarts, and 900 to run the entire rest of the British wizarding world. 20 thousand isn't enough to have the aristocracy suggested by the books, let-alone 3000. 20 thousand is your average college population for Odin's sake.
Also, for those who like Malfoy, I don't intend to be mean to him long. Thing is, until now Eric hasn't had much chance to influence Malfoy any, occasionally seeing each other in class and Malfoy's common snide comments was about the limit of their interaction. As such, up until this point Draco is still the useless little ponce from the books and does a lot of the same stuff. From here on out though, butterflies will start swirling around his head, some more voracious than others and changes can honestly begin. As 've mentioned before, I don't like changing thing in a 'why the fuck not?' manner like most FF authors, the dominos have to line up to start the cascade. If one doesn't reach then…
One final note, several of my beta's have asked me to explain they psyche behind Eric's experience with the mirror. First things first, no matter how mature he is Eric's is still an 11 year old boy with everything that entails. Hyper, overactive imagination, prone to exaggerations and irrational fears… you get the idea. That being said, he's spent the last 6 years building incredible magical abilities, some of which sort of bite him in the ass on an emotional level. He often wonders if he has so much power, why couldn't he save Maria? Would she blame him for not using his powers to do so? Would she like it that he's going to school that taught the people who killed her? He wants revenge on the people who killed her, but would she forgive him for going out and getting it? The mirror, being what it is, can see this. All his hopes, all his worries, and it shows him a twisted, almost Brothers Grim fairy tale version of that.
Hope you enjoyed this latest production of 'Back in Black' by yours truly; to show your appreciation, kindly post a review. All forms are accepted, but flames that aren't constructive will be summarily ignored.