Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!
Posted January 18, 2014.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Dumbledore finds a way to force Harry back to Hogwarts for another year; a shopping trip to Diagon Alley has Harry vowing to never return, though events which occur there result in a different outcome to his school year... and Harry gains a new friend out of the deal.
6: SECOND YEAR
July 2002 – June 2003
Early July, 2002
Meeting of the Wizengamot, British Ministry of Magic
"Are you sure this is the right way to handle the situation, Albus?" Madam Longbottom questioned from her seat, with a frown, "Last thing we need is to anger the Commonwealth further than they already are."
"Indeed," came another wizard's agreement from the opposite side of the chamber, "We've had over ten years of peace, all thanks to the one person you wish to ham-string with this piece of legislation. If the boy is happy where he is, then so be it."
"None of you understand the gravity of the situation. It is imperative that Mr. Potter complete his magical education here in Magical Britain, not abroad, outside of the purview of the Ministry."
"Come now, Albus," spoke Madam Bones, suspiciously, "I'm sure there are far more details than you are letting on. What difference does it make that he completes his magical education elsewhere? He saved us all eleven years ago, let us be thankful and move on."
"Indeed, there are details beyond what I have revealed, details that are best kept out of the public forum, lest those details reach the wrong ears. However, I will again point out, my largest concern thus far is the type of education young Mr. Potter is receiving. Being able to lash out at me magically without the use of a wand is disconcerting enough. He claims to have already killed numerous individuals—the circumstances I was unable to determine—but this, my friends, is the worry. That young Harry may follow in the footsteps of Voldemort."
He waited several moments for the chamber to regain its decorum.
"Harry is still at the age where we might sway him back to the light path, and prevent our world from facing yet another Dark Lord."
"I think we've heard enough. Let us put it to a vote, then..."
9 July, 2002 (9 Sun's Height, 4E197)
Fox Theatre, San Francisco
Originally constructed in 1929, San Francisco's Fox Theatre was one of five massive theatres built by William Fox to showcase his movies. It was to be 'the last word' in movie palaces, and in many ways, it was. Events ranging from motion pictures to vaudeville to Broadway-style productions graced its stage, until the building was closed in February of 1963. The building's owners claimed it was no longer profitable.
A number of organizations ran spirited campaigns to preserve the building, but it was soon discovered the effort was unnecessary, when it was announced at the end of that month the building and its contents had been purchased by Valicor International. Not much was known about the company, other than the fact that the company had purchased several other unwanted structures in the U.S. and Canada. Those places had underwent extensive restoration and preservation.
The building indeed underwent an extensive clean up and restoration, to reopen in 1965, although with fewer events. Sure, the place was most certainly capable of showing motion pictures, but the decline in movie-going public was one of the reasons the place had closed in the first place. Instead, the focus turned to conventions and the occasional live stage show. Late night organ concerts continued, at least for a while, though that too came to an end, as the entertainment desires of the public changed with the times.
The 70's and 80's saw the Fox Theatre's doors closed more than they were open, sometimes remaining shuttered for months at a time, its marquee empty. And still, that same marquee and the famous 'Fox' sign would be lit at night, though welcoming the ghosts of the ageing movie house's past. To someone passing it on the street, the building looked alive—even without the crowds queueing up outside, such as was the case during its heyday.
There were certainly many who voiced opposition to the monstrosity, the 'virtually abandoned dinosaur' which stood on a triangle of land bordered by Market St, Hayes St., and Polk St. Perhaps it was time the city reclaim the land, demolish the structure, and replace it with something more useful.
The truth of the matter? Valicor International was the Commonwealth's face in the non-magical world. Those places owned by the corporation? All of them had vast importance to the Commonwealth, for one single reason: a grand disguise. See, the Commonwealth of Valicadia held numerous hidden outlets, outposts, and larger population centres all over the globe. In this case, a deep-seated research lab that had been erected in 1925, by the Arcane Sciences Department, with the intent to study the geology of the area. Up to 1963, there was no proper connection with the surface—all personnel had to either use port keys, or the floo network to gain access.
By April of 1963, the basement of the theatre had been completely converted and re-adapted for use, by the Ministry of Science and Technology's Arcane Sciences Division. It then became possible to bring sensitive equipment in and out of the facility without risking magical damage—after all, there were some pieces of equipment that could not be tampered with magically. That allowed for a massive expansion of the facility in the following decade. It rapidly became one of the primary research centres in the Commonwealth, far surpassing the original, designed purpose.
Back to the point of the story, it was just after noon, when Harry, Mazhe, and Justin all arrived by floo powder. A grand fireplace had been installed along the east wall of the lobby—the magical construction firm hired to do the work made it look like it had always been there, and the chimney had been well disguised in the structure that was already there.
"Gods... this is a theatre? Hermione said—" Harry was confused.
"Those boxes they call cinemas," Justin laughed, "Nothing like this one. Only a few places like this exist now."
"I'm still not sure what you mean by 'movie' exactly," said Mazhe, "But this place... it's beautiful."
"You still haven't seen Hogwarts yet... but this comes close."
"This is just the lobby. Wait 'till you see the auditorium itself."
Indeed, the room was magnificent, with gold-leaf trim—opulent was the only description appropriate. 'The Dursleys' house would easily fit in the lobby—probably the neighbours' too, come to think of it,' Harry thought, as he looked around. To his left, doors led out to an outer lobby of sorts, and out to the street. Across the room, he could see a balcony and an upper mezzanine. Doors stood open, giving a glimpse into the auditorium itself... and from his standpoint, the stage looked really small. To his right, an equally opulent staircase led up to the mezzanine.
"The theatre's fairly busy these days, but not like it was before the Commonwealth bought it... special events, that type of thing. Still surprised you've never been to a movie, Harry," said Justin, shaking his head.
Just then, the fireplace roared a brilliant green, and Hermione stepped out of it with her parents.
"Miss Granger, good to see you again," said Justin.
"Err... likewise, Mr. Fraser."
"It's Justin. You're making me feel old."
"But you are old," Mazhe teased, sticking his tongue out.
"Real mature, Mazhe."
"Guys..." Harry shook his head, but grinned. "Hermione, glad you could make it."
"Thank you for inviting us," said Mr. Granger, "It's been a while since we were to the theatre."
"It'll be the first in the States though," said Mrs. Granger, "Though I do have to wonder, why would your government spend money on such a place?"
"It's serving double purpose, as an entrance to one of our research facilities. And... you know that you can't tell anyone about what's actually going on in here," said Justin, "It's above and beyond the Statute of Secrecy. It's why you had to sign a paper before they let you come."
"Of course. It's only understandable. Though I do understand, you have full inclusion of non-magical people in your culture," said Mrs. Granger.
"Since the Commonwealth was founded, yeah—"
The fireplace roared to life once again, and this time a group of familiar faces stepped out in rapid succession: the Weasleys.
"Harry! Good to see 'ya, mate."
"Good to see you too, Ron."
"Mr. Potter... good to at last meet," said Mr. Weasley, as they shook hands.
"Likewise. Err... Mrs. Weasley, thanks for the jumper at Christmas."
"Call me Molly, dear. And it was no trouble." She turned and gave a pair of identical twins a glare. "No nonsense. I mean it."
"Right. Just waiting for—" Justin did not finish, as the fireplace again flared, this time expelling Neville and his grandmother. That resulted in even more rapid introductions.
Naturally, the purely magical folks had lots of questions, being in what had been a purely non-magical building. However, it could easily be passed off as an expensive manor house, with the decorations.
Justin led the expanded group up the stairs, then to another stairwell. That led to the upper balcony seating, where they found a number of families already seated. Harry wasn't the only one trying to take everything in; the auditorium was truly enormous.
"What, you thought we'd be the only ones here?" Justin grinned, "I think Will and Alice were quite busy. Come on, we're sitting down at the front."
The seats themselves were plush, and Harry could immediately feel the extra cushioning charm at work as he sat down. Though the non-magical building had been designed to be comfortable during long sittings, magic simply made it better. Of course, such things were done very carefully, considering the building was frequently open to the outside world.
They'd no sooner gotten seated, when music seemed to erupt from everywhere.
"Of course, Rossini," said Justin. At Harry's blank look, he said, "Crap, keep forgetting. Most non-magical people—or those non-magically raised recognize this. The William Tell Overture, or part of it—the part that's playing—also known as the 'Lone Ranger' theme."
"Lone Ranger?"
"An old television show."
"Oh. The Dursleys never let me watch the telly."
"Oh. Look there!" Neville was pointing at a spot on the stage, which had opened up, and something was rising out of it. An enormous console, and someone was working at it—playing it, Harry realized.
"This music... it's fantastic," Mazhe commented.
"When the movie's over, any chance for us to see that up close?" Harry wondered.
"More than easily done, I think."
"Alice," Harry greeted. She was sitting behind him.
"We've planned a few outings for you the next few days, it's all about having fun."
"That would be excellent."
The music went on for about a half-hour, before the console again descended into the floor, to applause from the audience. Then, the lights dimmed, and the movie began. Will and Alice had spent more than a few hours debating what movie to play, but settled on Disney's "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea". It was suitable for all ages, and they figured those who had been raised exclusively in the magical world would enjoy it just as much as those who weren't.
When the movie finished, and the other groups heading back out to the lobby, Harry and his friends were led down to the stage area, where the organ's console had once again been raised out of its pit. While the kids all had a close look at it, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with the other adults, took the chance to have a chat with Alice and Will.
"Harry actually grew up here, in the Commonwealth?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"No," Will answered, "He's been staying at a rather unique College in a distant place. For now we aren't revealing further details, only that their magic is quite different than ours—though very compatible."
"And he's been learning about magic early, then," Mr. Weasley assumed, to which Alice gave a nod.
"Introduced to it right from the beginning, but really only started actually casting it when he was eight. Lots of theory and so on," Will answered.
"Around children his own age?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"The only weak spot, and one of the reasons we gave Harry a gentle nudge toward attending Hogwarts," said Alice.
"From what Neville has told me, Mr. Potter is very mature for his age. Now it somewhat makes sense," said Madam Longbottom.
"Spending five years at a college where maturity is expected, it would have that effect," said Mr. Granger, "Our daughter is constantly talking about him."
"And we're more than happy to hear he's formed some good friendships, even if he doesn't desire to return to Hogwarts in the fall," said Will.
"There's something you should be aware of, Mr. Jarvis," said Madam Longbottom, reaching into her handbag, "Our Wizengamot recently passed legislation which prohibits voluntary withdrawals and transfers—it's retroactive to last July. An official notice will be sent to Harry within the next week or so."
She passed over a folded, sealed parchment.
"More than a few of us were displeased with this rather... draconian piece of legislation. It borders on coercion."
Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked furious.
"Had we known..."
"Likewise," said Alice, "We'll certainly be speaking with a couple of I.C.W. Nations we're friendly with."
"Thing you must understand, Albus has a lot of pull within the Wizengamot and the international body," said Madam Longbottom, "For the most part his actions are toward the greater good, but sometimes... he does forget some actions do hurt individual interests, this being a great example."
"That may be a reason, but it's most definitely not an acceptable excuse. If and when this legislation is rescinded, your children would be most certainly welcome to attend Sir Malcolm Davis, or any other school within the Commonwealth, we can be more than accommodating."
"I'll certainly keep that in mind, Miss Wheeler," said Madam Longbottom, looking rather sour, "If simply to make a point. Though I do wonder, what sort of standard do schools here adhere to?"
"Instructors are all required to have proper credentials. A fine example would be History of Magic—though here it's just History—the instructor would be required to have appropriate knowledge on the subject, both magical and non-magical. Preferably, they would have had at least an 'E' in the magical portion, with a college major in history to match. Credentials would be double-checked," Alice explained.
"Additionally," Will continued, "Someone who wishes to become a teacher would have to prove they're competent in the classroom—prove they can actually teach the subject. As good as Severus Snape is, he shouldn't be teaching. He lacks the patience, exercises bias, and by many accounts, downright bullies students. Here, he would've been shown the door. He lacks the social graces to handle students in the classroom, it's that simple.
"We don't boast about being 'the best in the world' or any sort of nonsense. Students who graduate our school system are more than sufficient proof, I think. I mean, Mr. Fraser completed his Bachelor of Science not long ago, as well as his Charms mastery. Now, in between helping with Harry's education, he's working on a research Doctorate. Can any of you show me a witch or wizard from England who has a similar resume?"
"What does a Doctorate mean, Mr. Jarvis?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"It can mean many things, Mr. Weasley," answered Mr. Granger, "In the case of Mr. Fraser, I suspect he's doing a long-term research project, likely beginning with a paper and so on. Working through a college or university, it will most likely result in the granting of a Doctorate. Most people taking this route, it becomes a long-term project, possibly life-term. A medical Doctorate, on the other hand, is a little closer to home, at least for my wife and I. A medical Doctorate is about medicine, or in our case, dentistry."
"Fascinating," said Mr. Weasley, though he looked even more confused than he'd been before. The group at this point had settled back into seats in the front row, while the kids continued to be entertained by the organist.
"I've been wanting to ask... since our daughter has mentioned it... has Harry been getting extra lessons while he's at Hogwarts?" Mrs. Granger asked.
"Yes. Mr. Fraser met with Harry every Tuesday. Harry was given assignments to complete, and the session was a chance for him to get help with anything he didn't understand, and so on. The education system here is quite different," Alice explained, "The magical courses are only a part of it, in addition to regular subjects, such as math, English, and so on. As far as the Commonwealth is concerned, Harry is going into grade seven in September."
"Good grief, if only we'd known," said Mr. Granger, sounding frustrated, "The way that professor—"
"Professor McGonagall, dear," Mrs. Granger reminded.
"Right, but no matter, the way she made it sound, Hogwarts was the only school we could send our daughter to."
"It's what they wanted you to believe. But trust us, there are many magical schools out there—though not everyone would accept a foreign student—and most certainly, not all are equal," said Alice.
"And those of us who do know that fact, we simply choose to continue tradition. It's where my son went, it's where I went, it was only natural my grandson would also attend," said Madam Longbottom.
"Yet you have to admit, the school is nothing like it used to be. How many critical classes have been eliminated... classes that would have made things easier for those who have been raised in the non-magical world—what magical England refer to as Muggle-born, or Muggle-raised?"
"We don't like to use the word 'Muggle' here, it's considered derogatory," Will explained.
Alice continued, "To a child raised in a non-magical home, being suddenly thrust into the magical world would be a culture shock. Plenty of studies have been done over the years, all coming to a similar conclusion. Growing up ignorant of the magical world, then suddenly being dropped into the middle of it... that will only result in problems."
"Children in the Commonwealth are introduced to magic very early in their education. In fact all the subjects in our school system eventually involve magical elements."
"Fascinating," said Mrs. Granger.
"It is truly delightful, to watch little boys and girls and their first experience around magic. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, think of the first time you witnessed your daughter experience accidental magic."
"I think she had to be, what, four?" Mr. Granger answered, after thinking a moment.
"It had to be the time she dropped the picture book she was looking at. She was strapped in the high-chair at that time, see."
"She started crying, reaching for it, and -poof- the book literally sailed into her hand. She just sat there... think it startled her just as much as it startled us," Mr. Granger finished.
"Like I said, all children are introduced to magic very early. One of the first classes they attend, we have someone who is magical visit and give a demonstration. In some cases, we're very lucky and have a magical teacher. In cases we don't, it's just a matter of inviting someone in."
"Some of my colleagues would be outraged at such a concept," said Madam Longbottom. "However, I do have to wonder, how do the two societies coexist here?"
"About as well as any place, really. There is always that element," said Will, "No matter how well adjusted we try to be, there are always people who wish to cause problems for everyone else. But otherwise, I think we do quite well as a society. Education is the heart of it, and we start early. Someone who is magical is just as human as someone who is not—it's just a part of the individual, nothing more. Everyone is treated equally here. Or that's what we strive for. And for the most part, it works."
"Something to take home with you is this thought. We've had our share of criminals. But never—ever, not once—have we had an individual cause grief and strife such as Voldemort has in England. Never."
For dinner, the group went to a restaurant a few blocks away from the theatre, where they dined on all-you-can-eat pizza. The adults all agreed that, for now, the kids needed not know about the Wizengamot's recent legislation. The notifications would go out in due time.
"Y'know, Harry, we should do this again for your birthday. This 'motion-picture' concept was amazing," said Mazhe.
"I think that would be excellent," Harry agreed, "And you guys are all invited."
"Merlin, that building was enormous inside, you could practically play Quidditch inside," said Ron.
"Uh, I don't think they would appreciate that much, guys," said Harry, although he gave a mad grin. "We'll stick to your Quidditch paddock."
"About that, mate," George quipped.
"When you planning on coming to visit?" Fred finished.
"Early August. Perhaps we could also make an outing to Diagon Alley while I'm visiting. Though you guys know I'll likely not be returning to Hogwarts in September."
"Doesn't mean we can't all make a day of it in the Alley," said Hermione, "I mean—"
"We'll make sure you can meet up with your friends, Hermione," said Mrs. Granger.
"And likewise, if you can come to an agreement on a date, I'll make sure Neville makes it," said Madam Longbottom, "I couldn't be more pleased that he's made a few friends."
"All of you guys made Hogwarts easier to bear," said Harry, "And like I said back on the train, probably the only thing I'll really miss. Though the castle is truly beautiful—a lot of its contents just..." he let out a sigh. "I'll be glad to pick up my second-year classes while I'm at the College of Winterhold."
"You know... if the Arch-mage would allow it, we could have a Christmas party at the College. I mean, it would also be up to the Commonwealth, but..."
"I'm sure we could probably come to some sort of arrangement, Mazhe," said Will, "As long as we can maintain security, it shouldn't be a problem."
"I would only agree to such an outing if there are appropriate chaperones," said Madam Longbottom, firmly.
"At a minimum, I will be there," said Justin, "Though it would only be fair that you be invited as well. But most definitely, there will be adult supervision."
That got a snicker out of Harry. "Adult. Uh huh."
Mazhe looked at Harry a moment, then burst out laughing.
"Do I want to know?" Alice asked, pursing her lips.
"No. You don't." Justin only shook his head, his face becoming rather flushed.
"Thousands of conjured, singing ducks," said Harry, smugly.
"While Drevis was trying to conduct a lesson," Mazhe finished.
Justin sighed, and buried his face in his hands. Fred and George looked at each other, and grinned madly.
"In my defence," Justin muttered, "He is a strange duck and all."
"True. I think it took him about ten minutes before he noticed what was going on," Harry remembered.
"Sounds like Binns," said George, "You could set off a firework and he'd never notice."
All too soon, it was time for everyone to head home. It was going on 5 o'clock local time, which meant 1 o'clock in the morning back in the U.K. So, it was a discreet port key back to the theatre's lobby, where Harry bid good night to his friends.
Harry and Mazhe, however, did not return to the College. Instead, Will and Alice led them to the elevators at the north end of the lobby. Justin followed, and they were shown to a suite of rooms on the upper floor of the building. Various government officials had used the rooms over the years, and if anything, it was as nice as a night in a pricey hotel room. At Harry's question of why, Alice simply answered, "We have a few places to visit, so you're set up for the week."
"Brilliant."
"I need not remind you, Mazhe, stay close. You still have your emergency port key?" Alice questioned.
"Always with me, miss."
"Still, stay with Harry and Justin. Rather the local officials not discover you're not from around here. It would result in a rather awkward incident."
"Justin's explained the danger."
"Good."
For the next week, Harry and Mazhe became tourists in San Francisco. There were loads of places to see and things to do, so there was no shortage of entertainment. At a minimum, Justin joined them, but on a number of tours and expeditions, Either Will, Alice, or both of them joined the trio. Justin's camera became stuffed with photos of their adventures, and they would be developed once they returned to the Commonwealth proper.
Their trips included a visit to the Golden Gate Bridge—a skillfully placed notice-me-not charm had allowed Will to use a broom and get a most interesting photo of the trio... from beyond the fence rail. In fact, most of their tours and excursions had become a little bit... different... thanks to magic.
Finally, on July 16, the trio collected their amassed souvenirs, and travelled by port key back to the College of Winterhold. Harry had indeed wanted a proper vacation, and the Commonwealth had certainly provided, and then some. It had been massively entertaining, and as Mazhe had put it, something well worth doing again.
19 Sun's Height, 4E197 (19 July, 2002)
College of Winterhold
"Right, everyone. Great work. Remember, just reading the tome isn't enough, Telekinesis is a challenging spell to master, but incredibly useful. So keep practising it. Tomorrow, we'll—"
"Harry." Harry turned to find Alice at the door to the room.
"Something wrong?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Right." He turned back to the group of students. "We'll pick up again tomorrow. Off you go."
"Teaching?" Alice was impressed.
"Been doing that for a couple of years actually," Harry answered, as they headed for his quarters. "What's happened?"
"Just wait until we're in private."
"Something bad, then."
"Just hold your questions."
They crossed the court yard in silence. Alice and Will most certainly did visit him at the college on occasion, if only just to touch base and make sure everything was still going smoothly. So what had happened?
They at last arrived at the entrance to the Hall of Attainment. Mazhe was seated at his own desk, writing notes, a heavy tome lay open to his left.
"Miss Wheeler," he greeted, then, "Something happened?"
"Harry... these are for you. I'll let you read those, then have your thoughts on the matter."
She passed over two sealed letters, both having his name on them. Harry sighed, somehow knowing he wasn't going to like the contents of either of them. He opened the first.
Dear Mr. Potter,
This is to inform you that your notice to withdraw from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been rescinded. Recent legislation passed by the Wizengamot does not allow voluntary withdrawals from the school under normal circumstances. This, naturally, includes transfers to other schools—the reason for the filing of your notice.
Failure to comply with this edict will result in the freezing of all vaults and holdings by the Ministry, as well as the possibility of the snapping of your wand and the binding of your magic.
Hope you are well,
Firella Cuthbert,
Department of Magical Education
Harry was stunned. "Can they really do this?"
"I'm afraid they can. The government is still looking into how to respond to this."
"It's blackmail. I'll pay him in kind when the time comes," said Harry, dangerously, as he passed the offensive letter to Mazhe.
He then opened the other. It, of course, was the notice of rejection from Sir Malcolm Davis Institute. Can't attend one school while enrolled at another, right?
"We're still trying to get the goblins to help us out a little. At least give you an idea of what your worth truly is. For the time being, it looks like you'll have to return to Hogwarts for a second year," said Will, sympathetically.
"I'll get myself expelled then."
"Like hell you will," said Mazhe, darkly, "Do your best, right? I still have your promise, don't I?"
"Yeah, sure." Harry didn't sound too enthusiastic about the whole affair. It was then they heard the door open, and seconds later, both Will and Justin entered. It was clear both of them were aware of the notices as well.
"You've been informed, I see," Will said.
Harry nodded glumly.
"Just think of this. You did make a few friends last year. And, if we're lucky, we'll figure out something to get this draconian measure quashed, hopefully sooner than later," Will pointed out.
"As it stands, we'll keep the same schedule, since classes begin on the same date no matter which school you enrolled with," said Alice.
"Harry, there is something else we have to go over," said Will, "Given the headmaster's rather brazen attempt at tampering with your mind and your memories."
Will withdrew a thin book from his satchel.
"This will likely be rather dry reading, but it's important you go over it if you want to protect yourself against further attempts on your mind."
"Occlumency?"
"Protecting your mind from unwanted intrusions. That stuff is rather advanced, so you probably won't be able to get any sort of handle on it for a few years. But there are a few lesser techniques you can use, more like indicators that someone has done something to your mind. The thing you really need to focus on here is something called a memory totem."
"But reading all of it won't hurt," Alice picked up, "Occlumency is an advanced art, and it doesn't hurt to start to familiarize yourself with it. Eventually, we'll bring in someone who can teach you."
"If it'll help, why not?"
That, of course, wasn't the last bit of excitement. The morning following his twelfth birthday, Harry woke to find a rather strange creature standing beside the bed. At first, he thought it might have been a scamp—a Daedric creature from the plane of Oblivion—and nearly cursed the poor thing. However, he quickly noticed the odd creature was actually wearing what looked like a filthy pillowcase. Definitely not a scamp, then.
Harry settled on being blunt and direct. "What are you and what do you want?"
"Harry Potter sir!" the creature squeaked out, in a high-pitched voice that echoed quite well in the stone room that was their quarters. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir, such an honour it is..."
This, of course, woke the others.
"Harry? What's going on?" Mazhe asked, sleepily. Justin, meanwhile, muttered and sat up. It was clear he immediately recognized the creature among them.
"Guys, uh..." said Harry, eyes still fixed on the strange thing. He then answered, "Thank you, but you still haven't answered my question. What—or who are you?"
"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby, the house elf," the tiny creature answered, casting a weary eye toward the others.
"Ah... well... Sorry for being a bit gruff... you did give me a start," Harry apologized, "Err... well... you seem to know who I am, but... this is Mazhe, and Justin, my best friends."
It took several minutes to get the small being calmed down, as it went into complete hysterics. It was completely off its nut, that was all there was to it.
"We can't help each other with you going mental," said Harry, as he gently pushed the elf into a chair in the corner of the room. "Now what is it that's sent you this far to seek me out?"
"Dobby has come to tell you... it is most difficult, sir... Dobby wonders where to begin..."
"How about start at the beginning," Justin suggested.
Harry, meanwhile, summoned a hand towel from the small wash table, and offered it to Dobby—which of course nearly sent him into hysterics again.
"Look. Either tell me what the problem is, or you can leave. Going into hysterics isn't helping things."
"Dobby is sorry, sir, but... Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter not to go back to Hogwarts."
"Dobby... if I could be done with Hogwarts, I would be happy to. Unfortunately I'm sort of bound to return. I'll lose my inheritance, and possibly a lot more if I don't."
"No no no," Dobby squeaked, frightfully, "Harry Potter must stay where it is safe, if he returns to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."
Justin frowned. "By who?"
The conversation deteriorated somewhat from there. The elf was clearly frightened of his masters, and kept punishing himself if he said too much. Harry, however, was able to put enough of it together to figure out the important bits. The elf's owners were going to set something in motion that would put students at the school in grave danger. Exactly what kind of danger, Harry didn't know at that point. But he knew enough to keep an eye out.
Finally having said his piece, the elf simply vanished, leaving Harry and his friends rather confused.
"You have no idea how much I regret getting on the train last September," Harry muttered, as he flopped back down on the bed.
"Don't blame you one bit. I'd send a letter to Miss Wheeler soon as you can, let her know what happened."
"Count on it."
Harry rubbed his face with his hands.
"Last year was a mess, and now this year's lining up to be a carbon copy. Great fun."
27 August , 2002
Diagon Alley
As had been the plan back at the beginning of July, Harry had spent the last part of August with the Weasleys at the Burrow. He'd certainly seen a Wizarding home before, but the Burrow was fantastic. It was as if every scrap of it had been built with love... and magic. In fact, it was if magic itself was keeping the place upright. Ron was clearly unhappy with the place he called home, but Harry loved it right from the start.
Back to the point of our story, it was a rather large group who travelled through the floo network that morning—Justin had brought Mazhe along just a few minutes earlier. They passed through the Leaky Cauldron, and into Diagon Alley.
Harry did somewhat appreciate how everything was in one place, unlike in Trevelyan... and at the same time, it was irritating. Everything clustered together, isolated from the non-magical world. It was one more reason he was quite happy to stay at the College.
Just after 11:30 in the morning, Harry met up with the rest of his school friends at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Since Justin was more than capable with a wand, neither Will or Alice joined them this time. The Ministry of Social Services were quite insistent (Harry, of course, having no clue about this) that Harry have a magical chaperone when out in public, at least outside of the Commonwealth.
"Harry!" Hermione greeted, giving Harry a warm hug.
"Hermione... good to see you," Harry grinned, "Good summer?"
"Great. Yours?"
"Since July? Meh, not bad, I guess. Really not looking forward to dealing with another year at Hogwarts, though."
After treating everyone to an ice-cream, the group somewhat went in different directions. Mrs. Weasley was taking their youngest child to get her school things, and suggested they all meet up in an hour or so at Flourish & Blott's, the bookstore.
"The books are gonna be expensive this year for you guys," said Justin, as they made their way to the apothecary, "Lockhart's books alone are not cheap—though I don't know why they're needed in the first place."
"Why's that?" Ron asked.
"Gilderoy Lockhart is a fraud. His books tell great stories, but that's about all they do. Not a word in them can be taken at face value."
"But... how can you say that, Mr... Mr. Fraser?" Hermione protested, "He's so—"
"Miss Granger, you have to realize, not everything written in a book can be taken at face value. Back in the Commonwealth, the Department of Information has quite the little file on him. None of it good. My advice for the bunch of you, avoid him like the plague," Justin warned them.
They spent the next hour collecting the other items needed on the equipment list for the upcoming year—Hermione kept casting frigid glares at Justin. The dark-haired wizard had challenged her perception of things, and she wasn't happy about it.
They nearly had to drag Ron away from Quality Quidditch Supplies, where a full set of Chudley Cannon robes was on display in the window. Harry's eyes lingered momentarily on a broom with a black handle also on display—he'd been on a broom a few times, and certainly liked the feeling, but to fork out a bag full of galleons on a broom of his own? Perhaps next year.
They stopped into the stationary shop next door, where they purchased quills, ink, and parchment—although Harry had pretty much given up on the quill, electing to use a regular ball-point pen. Even back at the College, it was much easier than worrying about re-inking the quill every few words. Of course, the professors at Hogwarts had objected to him using it, but Harry had easily pointed out that nowhere in the school rules was it forbidden.
After meeting Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordan in a wizarding joke shop, it was finally off to Flourish & Blotts, the bookshop. Harry groaned, seeing the crowd of people outside. The banner stretched across the upper windows of the shop gave them the reason:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 – 4:30 pm
"Wonder if he's open to a few questions," Justin wondered, nastily.
"Please don't embarrass me," Harry groaned, already regretting making the trip. "Come on, let's get this over with."
The group squeezed by a harassed-looking wizard trying to control the crowd—most of them made up of witches Mrs. Weasley's age by the looks of it—and into the store proper. There was a lengthy queue snaking its way around the store, to the back of it, where the man himself was seated at a table, signing his books.
Harry instantly detested the man. He was wearing a god-awful set of powder blue robes, and was surrounded by portraits of his own face, flashing his painfully-white teeth at the crowd.
"No, not vain in the least," Justin snorted.
"He's in love with himself. Narcissism at its best—or worst," Harry frowned, shaking his head.
"Come on, let's get our books and find mum," Ron suggested.
"I think that's them up there with my mum and dad," said Hermione, pointing a little further up the queue.
"I'll look after your books, guys," Justin offered, "Go on ahead."
The group, minus Justin, made their way up to where Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were, as were the Grangers.
"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley, breathless. She kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute."
Up close, the man came across as even more obnoxious than at a distance, flashing his painfully-white teeth at the audience, as well as the annoying camera man dancing around, taking pictures of the event with a large black camera.
"Out of the way you lot, this is for the Daily Prophet," he snarled, nearly knocking Harry over as he pushed back to get a better shot.
"Excuse me!" Harry hissed, not appreciating such treatment.
That, unfortunately, drew Lockhart's attention. He glanced once, then twice, at Harry. Then he scrambled to his feet.
"It can't be Harry Potter?"
He practically dragged Harry up to the table as the crowd burst into applause, and Harry felt his face go red as Lockhart pumped his arm, and the camera flashed.
"Nice, big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own glittering teeth, "Together, you and I are worth the front page."
"Let go of me. Now."
"Come now, Harry," Lockhart placated—then let out a yelp, and collapsed to the floor as though he'd been shot. A purple glow was radiating from Harry's left hand, the only evidence he'd been the one to cause such a reaction from the celebrity.(1)
"I did ask him to let go of me," said Harry, with a shrug, "Man doesn't understand manners, I guess—nor the meaning of personal space, for that matter."
The camera continued to flash as the Weasleys led Harry away, while others quickly attended to the stricken man.
"What did you do to him?" Mazhe asked.
"Shock spell to his manhood. I asked him to let go of me, he didn't. I decided he needed a small, painful lesson."
Mazhe only smirked, appreciative of exactly what sort of pain the man was in, still crumpled to the floor.
"Feel like I need a hot bath," Harry muttered, as they moved off to the side of the shop.
"Bet you just loved that, didn't you, Potter?"
Harry turned to find Draco Malfoy, along with a man he guessed was the boy's father. They were carbon copies of themselves, and now Harry knew where the boy got his patented sneer from.
"Famous Harry Potter," Malfoy sneered, "Can't even go into a bookstore without making the front page."
"How about you piss off, before I give you another public lesson," answered Harry, in a bored tone, "I already dealt with one ponce today, care to make it two?"
"How dare you," the older man hissed, about to round on Harry.
"No, how dare you. I think I can easily work out where junior here gets his attitude from. You wouldn't last five minutes where I come from."
"Oh, and where might that be, Mr. Potter?" The elder Malfoy sneered.
"A place I won't be mentioning here. Now how about you run along, before you do something that might get you hurt?"
He flicked his eyes toward the still prone Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Wouldn't want you to soil your robes, now, would we?"
Draco lunged at Harry, but hadn't moved an inch before Mazhe nailed him with a shock spell of his own. The boy collapsed almost as quickly as Lockhart had. His father moved to draw his wand.
"How dare you! I'll—"
Now it was Harry's turn. A yellowish green arc of magic shot from Harry's outstretched hand, and the senior Malfoy fell over like a statue, frozen in his current state.(2)
"Let's go, before it wears off," Harry urged, then turned to Draco, still prone ground. "And you, Draco. I warned you."
Another thrust of the hand, and a red blast of magic struck the boy. He whimpered and passed out. The group wasted no time fleeing the store.
"What sort of magic was that, Harry?" Mr. Weasley dared ask, as the larger group at last collected themselves not far from the bookstore.
"It's magic I've been learning where I was raised."
"Wandless?"
"All of it."
"What... what did you do to Mr. Lockhart?" came Ron's question.
"Shock spell. It was relatively mild, but it got him to let go of me. Didn't appreciate being man-handled. Really shouldn't have come today—had I known this was going to happen... I would've ordered my books and supplies by owl."
"Miss Weasley," said Justin, crouching down so he was eye-level, "May I see your cauldron for a moment?"
"Of course."
Ginny held out her cauldron, and Justin reached in a hand, plucking out a thin leather-bound journal.
"I saw Mr. Malfoy's father putting this in her cauldron."
"Oh dear. If that came from Lucius Malfoy, it can't be anything good," said Mr. Weasley, gravely, "Thank you for your keen observation, Mr. Fraser."
"You're all friends of Harry's. If it's as you say, it could have put all of them in danger. I'll pass this off to the Ministry of Justice, let them figure out what it is."
He flipped the journal over.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he read from the back cover, "I've heard that name from somewhere... just can't think of where."
"No one I've ever heard of, Mr. Fraser," said Mr. Weasley, shaking his head.
"Whatever it is, as I said, the government will get to the bottom of it. We've got a rather lengthy file on the Malfoys as it stands, none of it good."
"You've got files on loads of people then?" Harry guessed.
"Unfortunately, yes," answered Justin, as they started for the Leaky Cauldron, "See, the Commonwealth doesn't have any official enemies, but the Dark Lord was scary, even for us. We keep an eye on things—or people who start making a name for themselves... particularly in the wrong way."
"How do you know Lockhart is a fraud?" Of course, Hermione would come back to that point.
"Investigation," answered Justin, "Mainly, trying to prove his deeds, see. The government was able to prove his stories are lies, simply by inconsistencies. Believe me, it's been investigated to death."
"Sounds like he pissed someone off," said Mazhe.
"Hit the nail right on the head, my friend," said Justin, shaking his head. "Tried to Obliviate a rather powerful witch out on assignment with the Ministry of Justice."
"Obliviating her... because she saw what he was truly trying to do," Harry guessed.
"Yeah, that's what the government thinks. More than a few people would like to get him doused with Veritaserum, get him to spill his dirty secrets."
Harry glanced over at Mrs. Weasley, and she looked terribly hurt. The lightning-struck-tower(3) had reared its ugly head. Hermione, too, looked a little bewildered at this point, though likely for a different reason. Harry knew how much faith she put in what was the printed word. Another terrible truth, but thus was the nature of growing up.
September 1 came far too quickly for Harry's liking, and so it was, he was on his way to King's Cross train station with Justin and Mazhe. Mrs. Weasley had offered for Harry to spend the remainder of the summer at the Burrow, but Harry declined, wishing to spend the last few days back at the College.
They arrived at the train station with an hour to spare. Harry loaded his trunk onto a trolley, along with Hedwig, who was asleep in her cage—the Cornells looked after her over the summer while he'd been at the College, as it had been decided it might not be safe for her in Skyrim. Remembering the strange glances he had gotten last time, he had bought a lovely velvet cover for her cage. It looked a lot less conspicuous.
Waiting for the Weasleys, however, proved to be a mistake. The large brood arrived with only a few minutes to spare.
"What took you guys so long?" Harry asked, as they watched Percy walk through the barrier.
"Fred forgot his broomstick," said George.
"And George forgot his box of fireworks," Fred added.
"And Ginny forgot her diary," answered Ron, "Took us forever to leave the house."
"If the lot of you would have packed last night rather than at the last minute," Mrs. Weasley huffed, as her husband followed Percy. Then it was Fred and George, one right after the other. Finally Mrs. Weasley took Ginny and vanished.
"Come on then," said Ron, pushing his trolley toward the barrier. Harry joined, crouching low over his trolley, breaking into a bit of a run a few feet away.
Crash. Trunks went flying, as did Hedwig's cage, the owl inside letting out indignant screeches, and the other contents of the trolleys were scattered across the platform, with both young wizards knocked onto their backsides. Justin did his best not to laugh, while Mazhe failed miserably.
"What in blazes are you doing?" came a yell from a nearby guard.
"S-sorry. Lost control of the trolley," Harry apologized.
He looked around, and sure enough, he'd drawn attention from people on the platform, including the frowning guard.
"Why can't we get through?" Harry muttered, discreetly pushing a hand against the column. It was as solid as the rest of them.
"Bizarre," said Justin, "Hang on, I'm gonna call Alice, let her know we've run into a problem. Put your trolleys back in order, guys."
Harry had seen Justin use his mobile phone more than a few times already. It was truly remarkable. It worked in a great number of places, even outside of the Commonwealth—and it was a non-magical invention. Not a scrap of magic involved, at least, other than that which made sure it would work in a magically-saturated environment.
He was on his mobile for several minutes, then at last hung up.
"All right. We're going back to Erwin. Alice is making a floo call to the headmaster, but we'll be taking the floo to a small pub in Hogsmeade, the Three Broomsticks."
"Yeah, Percy's been in there loads of times," said Ron.
"Let's get somewhere private then."
A few minutes later, they were in a small alcove out of sight. Justin pulled a length of rope out of his satchel. The trunks and other items hand already been shrunk down and stowed in pockets.
"Never know when I might need to do this. Portus," he whispered, causing the rope to quiver and momentarily turn blue.
"A Port key? Blimey, though just the Ministry was allowed to make those."
"Justin is with the Ministry—or the Commonwealth equivalent, Ron. Get a finger on it."
Mazhe, Ron, and Harry put a finger on the port key, and with Justin's spoken "Activate," they were off in a whirl of limbs and flashing light.
They landed directly in front of their destination: a modern-looking building with a sign above it: Erwin Public Library Branch 31. More than a few noticed their arrival, but not a second thought was given to it. Ron looked around, clearly confused. Hermione, had, after all, described a Muggle neighbourhood to him, and this looked exactly like one.
"The Library? What are we doing at the library?" Ron questioned, "And... this looks like a Muggle neighbourhood."
"You'd be surprised at the number of witches and wizards that might be about, Mr. Weasley," Justin laughed, "Come on, we'll use a public fireplace inside."
"In a library in a Muggle neighbourhood?" Ron looked at Justin like he'd grown a second head.
"Welcome to the Commonwealth of Valicadia, Ron. There's no such thing as the Muggle world here," Harry explained, "There are non-magical folks around, but everyone lives and works together, see."
"Think about this," said Justin, "Being able to do magic is only a small part of who you are. Am I right? Just as much as having green eyes-" he gestured to Harry. "The Commonwealth encourages everyone to embrace their individuality, and recognize that in others. It works for the most part."
"Bloody hell..."
"Right. Here." The group had arrived at an enormous fireplace in the lobby with a fire crackling cheerfully in the grate. "Mazhe... you know the rules of course."
"Done this enough, you don't need to remind me," Mazhe scowled. It was definitely not his favourite way to travel.
"You don't like travelling by floo powder," Ron guessed.
"We're virtually identical in that we both end up on our arses on the way out. Quite comical, actually," Harry grinned.
"Maybe to you," Mazhe muttered, "Let's get this over with."
"I'll go first. Ron, you follow. Mazhe and Harry, you come through last."
"Sounds right to me."
Less than a minute later, the four of them were standing in a small pub, with Justin spelling the soot off their clothes. The place seriously clashed with the place they'd just travelled by floo powder from. There were a few patrons about, but none of them gave the four of them a second glance, as they made for the door. Perhaps there might have been time to get a bite to eat and maybe something to drink, but they were on a bit of a schedule. Someone was meeting them at the gates to the school in a few minutes' time.
That individual turned out to be Rubeus Hagrid, the school's groundskeeper. Harry had certainly met the man on a few occasions in the castle, and he was a right friendly individual, a gentle giant.
"Harry, Ron. Got yerselves in a bit o' trouble, have yeh?"
"A little, Hagrid. Oh. This is Mazhe, and Justin, two of my friends from, uh, where I stay when I'm not at school. Guys, Rubeus Hagrid."
"Pleasure," said Justin, as they shook hands. It was rather comical, given the size of Hagrid's hands.
"Come on then." Hagrid made gesture toward Mazhe and Justin. "You pair need ter be off somewhere?"
"No, not really."
"Come for a cuppa, then."
All too soon, it was time for Harry to part ways with Justin and Mazhe. They had spent the entire afternoon in Hagrid's hut, enjoying tea and snacks. Harry had opened up a little more about his pre-Hogwarts education, somewhat surprising the half-giant. Hagrid, had of course, reciprocated, telling a few stories about Harry's parents and some of the mischief they had gotten into as students. To Harry, that was a gift, for it continued to fill in the picture of his parents—normal witches and wizards, just like he was.
"All right, Harry. I'll see you in a weeks' time," said Justin, as they walked up the pathway to the train station.
"And I'll try and come visit more often," Mazhe promised, "But you know the College is keeping me busy now."
"I know."
"Just try and keep out of trouble." But Mazhe stuck his tongue out and grinned.
"Wonder if I should try conjuring up a flock of singing ducks during Binns' lecture," Harry grinned.
"Wait a few years, Harry. Conjuration's very difficult." He then stopped his friend, and they embraced. "Have a good term."
"I'll try."
"Likewise. But as I said, I'll see you in a weeks' time." Another embrace, and Mazhe and Justin Disapparated.
"All right, you pair, time ter meet the train."
The fall term was every bit as trying as the previous year's, mainly due to a single individual: the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He was every bit as bad as the previous year's, and his name was Gilderoy Lockhart. He now knew without a doubt the man was in love with himself. His classroom was half-filled with moving portraits of the man and that damnable toothy smile—how did one manage to show ALL of his teeth anyway?
He had opened the first lesson giving them all a quiz—about himself. What was Lockhart's favourite colour? Secret ambition? Greatest achievement to date? Seriously, the man was barking. Greatest achievement to date? Still breathing, maybe? To the detriment of the real world, he had snorted in his head, love to see the fop take on a Draugr or four.
Within a week, he had resurrected his extra-curricular study group from the previous year, claiming the same unused classroom on the second floor. He also opened things up on Sundays, inviting other years in to join them, seeing if he could help more than just his own class. If he picked up more advanced material in the process, even better.
Make no mistake, Harry was not wasting his time at Hogwarts. Even though he was forced to be there, he took the opportunity in front of him. He would have done the same thing had he been accepted into the academy back in the Commonwealth. The only difference would have been him not under the scrutiny of a certain meddling wizard.
No surprise, he had been summoned to the headmaster's office almost immediately after the welcome feast. Professor Dumbledore had begun with apologies for his behaviour at the end of the year, but swiftly turned to attempting to get Harry back under his control. Harry, of course, would have no part of it. A letter was sent out the following morning through Hedwig back to the Commonwealth, letting Justin know what was going on.
Equally annoying, were the number of 'chats' Lockhart kept wanting to have. The man was bordering on predatory with his actions, making the young wizard extremely uncomfortable. Perhaps that would need to be dealt with as well. Christmas holidays couldn't arrive soon enough.
But arrive they did, and on December 21, Harry returned to London. His friends were waiting, and a port key took them back to the College of Winterhold. Both Justin and Mazhe were able to read Harry quite well, and they could tell the young wizard was more than anxious to return to the College. Barring the friends he had made at Hogwarts, his overall experiences there were less than stellar.
"So this Lockhart character. He's really that bad," said Mazhe, as they crossed the courtyard to the Hall of Attainment.
"Trust me, the guy's downright predatory, I think. I'm a hair's breath away from cursing him to atoms. You'd think a shock spell to the unmentionables would be a strong enough message."
Mazhe shook his head. "The man certainly lacks common sense, by the sound of it."
"As do the Malfoys. You saw them. Proof to the old saying, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree—something like that anyway. I might have to do something more permanent somewhere down the road—they're a nasty lot, only cause trouble. He called Hermione a Mudblood—"
"Oh really," said Justin, nastily.
"But Ron got him good, had him belching out giant black slugs for the next hour... served him right.(4)"
"Now that would have been priceless."
"Yeah, Colin got some really nice, embarrassing pictures of it, I'll show you when I'm unpacked."
"A Mudblood?" Mazhe was confused, though it didn't take a lot to figure it didn't mean anything nice.
"Well... I would be one. It's a derogatory term for someone who has non-magical parents. Saying that in the Commonwealth could land you in jail—or at minimum a nasty fine."
"Typically, there weren't any teachers around when he said it... that's the thing about Malfoy, he's always careful there's no teachers around when he acts out."
"He'll screw up eventually, they always do," said Justin.
"That they do," Mazhe agreed.
"No matter, as soon as the Commonwealth gets me out from under Dumbledore, I'll be coming back here and not returning to Hogwarts. Whether I have to deal with Voldemort or not, there wasn't anything in my destiny saying I had to learn magic at Hogwarts."
"This is true," Justin agreed, "All right, all right, let's leave all that nonsense behind, you're here to forget about that for a while."
"Yes, how true. Why don't you guys get unpacked? The court-wizard from Whiterun's here to see you."
"Farengar?"
"That would be him. Wants to have a chat with you about those books he gave you last... um... Christmas."
"Oh... right, sure."
On December 23, the group attended a spectacular holiday concert, held at the Fox Theatre. There were a number of acts, and all of them featured young performers. The music was a cross-section of the art, covering everything from Broadway to hit music from the present day. The event closed with all of the groups squeezing on stage and having the audience join in with the singing of 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas', the powerful Wurlitzer organ providing the music.
Harry and Mazhe were both a bit lost with the lyrics, having not heard much in terms of traditional holiday music, but they both had a blast.
"The, uh, performers were amazing," said Mazhe, as the crowd began a mass exodus. The group remained in their seats for the time being, since the event was not put on by the Commonwealth. They would wait until the crowd thinned out before leaving themselves.
"They're show choirs from local high schools. Glee clubs."
"Did you?"
"Join them? No. Singing wasn't my thing," Justin answered, "Sir Malcolm Davis' glee club wasn't bad, but... I was a good supporter though, went to more than a few of their performances and stuff... school pride and all that." He grinned. "Of course, in grade nine, I did try out for the Drama Club. I was in it for one semester and that was it. Discovered acting wasn't my thing."
"So what kinds of things did you do when you went to school then?" Harry asked.
"Swimming. I was on the swim team. Again not all that successful, but winning isn't everything and all that, I had a lot of fun. It's what being in a club or a team is all about. And I did try out for the football team in grade ten. Then you came along, Harry."
Harry gave his friend a sad smile. "Sorry."
"It's nothing to be sorry for. Most of them were typical jocks anyway. A little dense, if you get my meaning."
That got a chuckle out of the group.
"Do you regret it?" asked Mazhe.
"Why would I? Having the chance to be Harry's teacher, going out on crazy adventures with you two... no. Definitely not."
March 27, 2003
Harry was startled at breakfast by an unexpected owl that nearly planted itself in his cereal. Harry recognized the seal on the letter before he opened it: Gringotts.
Dear Mr. Potter,
In reaction to recent action taken by the Muggle American Department of Justice against Umbrella Corporation, Gringotts has hastily sold off all your shares of the company, as share values have dropped by an unacceptable threshold over the past forty-eight hours. The value has been added to your trust vault in accordance with the direction of your guardians.
No loss was incurred, but only a small profit was made from the sale of said shares. I can suggest other avenues of investment, should you be interested.
Sincerely,
Evstor, Senior Account Manager,
Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley Branch
"What's that Harry?" Ron asked.
"Uh, I'm a little confused."
"Let me see it," said Hermione, taking the letter. She quickly read it.
"Oh. I've heard about them. The Muggle papers have loads to say about Umbrella, none of it good. They were making biological weapons."
Ron looked just as confused as Harry. "Bio—what?"
"It's really bad, Ron. They were making things that would make people into monsters."
"But... what's this got to do with... well... this?" Harry gestured to the letter.
"Gringotts sold your shares before you lost money. That's it. And there are better places to invest. I would take Evstor up on his offer," Hermione suggested.
The rest of the school year passed without incident—save for an instance near the end of May, when Amelia Bones arrived at the school along with a contingent of Aurors during dinner. Gilderoy Lockhart was taken into custody, the charges for the time being withheld from the public. Harry, of course, had a very good idea of what happened, and smirked the whole time the vile man was being led out of the Great Hall at wand-point. It seemed, the curse on the Dark Arts Defence position remained intact.
The morning everyone was to catch the Hogwarts Express back to London, it was no surprise that Harry received a summons up to the headmaster's office. This time, he declined the offer to sit, but stood by Fawkes, who rested on his ornate perch, regarding him with his coal-black eyes.
"You wanted to see me, professor?"
"Indeed, I did, Harry. How was your year?"
"Fine, sir. If a bit slow, compared to what I'm used to. Sir, I could be teaching my year mates, easily. I teach fully-grown adults back at the College. Why did you insist on forcing me to come back here?"
"This is where you were destined to learn magic, Harry. How can you be expected to defend our world, if you were not raised and taught magic here?"
"I think it's irrelevant, sir. What difference does it make? Do you doubt what I'm capable of? Or is it that you're concerned I'm learning too much?"
Dumbledore frowned at that barb. 'Too close to the truth,' he muttered in his head. The boy was already a powerful wizard, acting more and more mature. Not easily rattled, he had easily dealt with Malfoy yet again—and several more times, according to Severus. His classmates respected him—he was easy-going with the rest of his house, effectively taught Dark Arts Defence for a second year... the boy was a natural leader. And it terrified Dumbledore. He was independent, making his own choices, asking for advice if he was unsure. Even Severus had a grudging respect for him. This was not how it was supposed to happen.
"There is nothing wrong with working ahead, Harry, but doing so without the foundation under it, you will have difficulty grasping the more advanced material."
"Trust me, I know that, Professor. But honestly, if I wasn't sure of myself, I wouldn't be doing it, am I right? But, think of the final exams in Dark Arts Defence this year—and last, come to think of it. Our year did pretty well, am I right?"
"A point conceded."
"And I bet this year's O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores won't be all that bad, even though Professor Lockhart was worse than Quirrell was. Professor, I know what I'm doing. Too bad our Dark Arts Defence professors don't."
"Now Harry, I have to take exception-"
"No, Professor, 'I' take exception to piss-poor teaching!" Harry snapped right back. "Surely, there has to be someone out there who has a brain and knows how to use it. Professor Lockhart wouldn't last five minutes in Skyrim... at least not against some of the things I've fought. And Quirrell... him neither. Skyrim is a place where you either grow up, or die, simple as that."
"Surely, not every twelve-year-old—"
"No, not every... but there are a good number. And even those who haven't been raised such as I was have more stones than most children here. It's a harsh land, sir. It's surprising how dangerous the wildlife can be... never mind the bandits, thieves, necromancers, and conjurers you might run into."
Dumbledore gave Harry a dark look.
"Necromancy? Harry, I truly worry."
"Had I been taken to Tamriel two hundred years ago, it would have been forbidden. The rules have relaxed somewhat since. It's an advanced form of conjuration. The teachers won't let me go near any of that stuff yet, though."
Dumbledore now looked alarmed. The boy looked almost eager to delve into such magic—some of the darkest arts.
"Conjuration is downright amazing," Harry continued, "All of it difficult, far beyond what I know now. But to be able to produce a storm thrall and stand back and watch it dispatch enemies, it's a powerful sight indeed. Now whether or not I learn the most advanced form—honestly, sir, I doubt it. So no need for you to get your knickers in a twist."
"You need to respect the headmaster, young man," scolded a portrait directly behind the headmaster's desk.
"Respect is earned, not given, don't you agree, Professor?" Harry addressed the portrait, "Keeping me here under threat of me losing my inheritance? That's not respect."
"Yes, I daresay we come to the primary reason behind my request for you to visit. I have here a letter from your present guardians, it is important you read it."
Dumbledore slid an envelope across the desk. Harry crossed the room, and picked it up. The writing on the envelope was Will's. He opened the envelope, and pulled out the parchment(!) inside. Wait a minute... The Ministry of Social Services never used parchment.
"Thank you. I'll be keeping this," said Harry, nastily.
"Are you not going to read it?"
"I know a few things about the Commonwealth and its procedures, see. Common observation and all that. All of their correspondence is sent using regular paper. As far as I know, only a few departments use the old parchment. Something about cost."
Harry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, as he slid the offensive letter into his robes.
"I'm sure you know there are ways to determine what magic is on something... who cast the spells, and what the spells are. I'll be very interested in knowing myself, as will the social workers who handle my case, and likely a few other people."
Dumbledore gave Harry a tragic look.
"My boy, I am only doing what is best for the greater good." He reached in his robes for his wand and—
FWOOOSH!
The headmaster's desk became a raging inferno, and Harry had both hands cupped together, a swirling mass of orange glowing in them, ready to cast again.
"Don't tempt me, old man. I've incinerated more than a few arrogant mages who thought they could get the jump on me."
"You are on a dark path, Harry."
"No, I'm only protecting my own self-interest, headmaster," Harry snapped, as the flames continued to consume the desk and its contents, "You've stomped on my dick nerve... again. Not too many people survive doing it a third time. Now I've got a train to catch. Best put that out, before it spreads. And have a good summer, sir."
Harry turned to leave, but was startled, as Fawkes swooped over at him. At first thought, Harry believe the bird meant to attack him. However, the phoenix shot over top of him, and took a swipe at the headmaster, causing the old wizard to drop his wand.
"You never learn, do you?" Harry snarled, "Vokul mey!(5) Oblivion take you!" With that, he fled from the office and its burning furniture.
Only when the fire began to spread to the floor did the headmaster act and extinguish the fire. Harry had just utterly stunned him, with the raw display of power. The desk was half-burned to cinders from the intensity of the spell. Quite right, had the boy actually targeted him, it would have been all over. Worse still, the boy had admitted to actually doing so—perhaps against a real enemy, but still. The boy had killed, and did not hesitate to do so. He was right on par with young Tom Riddle... perhaps a little stronger at this stage.
The boy had been able to see right through the trap Dumbledore had set for him. Now, the boy had the evidence, and would likely send it off to his minders in the Commonwealth. Of course they would never find Dumbledore's spell work on it—he knew better than to do something of that nature himself. That was what underlings were for.
After repairing the damage done by the young wizard, Dumbledore took a seat at his desk. No matter. There would be next year. Perhaps he might try something a little different. Not to mention, if everything went as planned, he might have a much better Dark Arts Defence professor lined up for next year. One way or another, he would get Harry Potter back under his control, and back on the right path.
As Harry stepped off the spiral stairs and beyond the threshold of the gargoyle which guarded the entrance, Harry had to smirk to himself. The Commonwealth had been more than helpful, providing a few bits of background on the Malfoys, among other things. This was just too beautiful an opportunity to pass up.
"Well now. If it isn't Mr. Malfoy," said Harry, with a nasty smirk, "Most humiliating, petrified in front of all those people. That side photo in the Prophet really didn't do you justice."
Harry's eyes wandered to the fearful house-elf at Malfoy's side.
"Meddlesome boy!" Malfoy snarled, "Your parents were meddlesome fools as well, didn't know what was good for them."
"Unlike you, I assume," Harry said, evenly, then reached into his satchel. "Rather convenient I ran into you, actually. I have something for you. Should really be careful with your belongings, right?"
He held out the diary—actually a perfect copy of it, since the original was still in the possession of the Government—and Malfoy snatched it.
"What the..." His other hand twitched around the handle of his cane, while he thrust the book at the house-elf. He stared at the boy in front of him out of confusion for a moment, then his face contorted into a snarl.
"You will pay for this, Harry Potter. Come, Dobby."
But Dobby didn't move. He was holding the diary in one hand, and a dark sock in another, his eyes fixed on the article of clothing as if it were treasure.
"Master has given Dobby clothes! Dobby is free!"
"What?"
"Master has given Dobby a sock," the elf repeated, still staring at the item in wonderment.
"You lost me my servant, boy!" Malfoy roared, lunging at Harry.
Malfoy didn't know what hit him. Between Dobby's exclamation and Harry's lightning-fast spell-casting, the man was sent hurtling down the corridor. He fell to the ground, once again paralysed.
"We'd best be going, before he wakes up," Harry giggled.
"Harry Potter is a great wizard," said Dobby, in awe.
"And you guys are wicked in your own right, I've done a bit of reading. Say, I have need of a little friend who can run errands. Would you like to do a bit of work for me?"
Dobby's eyes lit up like it was Christmas come early.
UP NEXT: Harry's third year at Hogwarts, which passes somewhat less-eventfully, though he gains two strong allies, and a special artefact that will prove very useful in the future.
AUTHOR NOTES: Just to further clarify, San Francisco's Fox Theatre was actually demolished in 1963. But this is an alternate universe, remember. I make no apologies to the ugly structure they put in its place. In Harry's world, we'll be seeing the theatre again on occasion—it was truly an amazing venue. Look into the three remaining 'Fabulous Foxes': Detroit, St. Louis, and Atlanta. They're all truly magnificent concert venues, all of them beautifully restored and operational, and they will give you an idea of the grandeur that went into these places.
Sorry about the number of footnotes here, but most are related to Skyrim, and for those of you who haven't enjoyed the Elder Scrolls world, it may still be a bit confusing. The Elder Scrolls wiki is very handy... or, I would suggest trying out the game itself if you haven't already, it's truly amazing.
(1) The shock spell here, is of course, another spell from Skyrim. There are varying degrees of it, this one being rather mild. Harry does know a more advanced version, but in this case he didn't want to cause significant damage—only to teach a lesson (which, by the sounds of it, was not learned).
(2) Paralysis spell, another from the Alteration branch of magic in Skyrim. This one, as well has varying degrees of strength.
(3) Of course, referencing the Tower tarot card.
(4) Since Ron didn't bust his wand getting to school, the, uh, spell works as it was supposed to and hits the right target this time.
(5) Vokul mey! - Evil fool!