Third Year
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 21, 2014.
SUMMARY: Harry's third year at Hogwarts, which introduces a few new courses, and a new DADA professor who is actually competent. Long buried secrets resurface, resulting in new allies, and Harry obtains a very useful artefact that would come in handy in the future.
7: THIRD YEAR
August 2003 – June 2004
To someone who did not know Harry Potter personally, to first meet him, they might be fooled into thinking they were dealing with a rather mature sixteen-year-old. He was lean, muscular, with thick black hair that grew down to his shoulders, and piercing green eyes.
Harry, however, was not sixteen. In fact, he had just turned thirteen at the end of Sun's Height, and he was still the youngest mage in the College by five years—Mazhe was still the closest to his age, with a birthday in Hearthfire. He would be eighteen this year.
As it was, Harry was seeing less and less of Mazhe during his visits to the College now. The guy was out running errands and performing small tasks for the various court-wizards in the province—the majority of which being Farengar Secret-Fire, the court-wizard of Whiterun. Harry found the man a little irritating, acting a little holier-than-thou just because he was a wizard and all. If anything the man needed to be taught a little bit of humility.
This time, however, Mazhe was about, and Harry quickly learned why. Given he was thirteen, Mazhe was more comfortable with teaching him about blades. Harry had certainly had to wield a weapon in a fight, but up to this point, he wasn't exactly effective with one. In Skyrim, being able to wield a weapon was virtually a necessity. So it was, that most of Harry's summer was consumed learning about blades—most of them being short daggers. As Mazhe explained, small blades were easily concealed, and with the right skill, were downright deadly.
The middle of Last Seed saw another addition to the College: a floo connection. Guardian Elaine, seeing there was a lasting need for such a connection, had spoken at length with Arch-mage Aren. The wizard was intrigued by the concept, but also concerned, given what she had already told him about the threat from Voldemort. Skyrim was dangerous enough without a homicidal dark wizard from another world lurking about.
Elaine was very careful in explaining the intricacies of the floo network, and more importantly, the security precautions they were able to place on connections if necessary—the one they were proposing, for example. She was in agreement that such a connection would have to be heavily warded so only those authorized could make use of it.
With that, Savos Aren agreed, and so that particular morning found an elderly wizard from the Ministry of Transportation's Floo Management Office setting up in the Hall of Attainment. Since it was heavily warded, only intended for a few people, it was placed where it would be most convenient—namely where Harry, Mazhe, and Justin stayed while at the College. For now, the access list included Harry, Justin, Will, Alice, Guardian Elaine, and Mazhe. There were a few others, all of which were Harry's tutors and teachers. The summer would be spent with him reviewing the previous years' material and preparing for the next.
The last weekend of Last Seed, Harry, Justin, and Mazhe travelled back to the Commonwealth using the floo. Since his best friend had already visited the Commonwealth before, there was no difficulty in getting permission for him to do so. Harry had, of course, received his book list for the upcoming school year, and so an outing was in order to purchase the required things.
This time around, Harry decided to purchase his things in Trevelyan, rather than visit Diagon Alley, considering what happened the previous year, and the—strange events of the year before that one. No, if Harry had anything to say about it, he wouldn't set foot in Diagon Alley ever again. He came to realize, the world he came from was just too backwards and convoluted for his own taste.
The government was still looking into ways of reversing the Ministry edicts forcing Harry to return to Hogwarts in the first place, but thus far had not had success. Harry was half tempted to not return anyway, to hell with his inheritance or whatever else the Ministry wanted to confiscate. It wasn't like he wouldn't be well-off anyway—he was already assured a teaching position with the College when the time was right. Monetary wealth really meant very little to Harry at this point.
The thing which prevented him from doing so, however, were the other potential treasures in the family vault. There could be photographs, letters, and other priceless links back to his family—things worth far more than gold. There was also the mention of the Black vault, something entirely different. It had spawned a separate investigation, which was revealing even more dark secrets being kept from Harry, namely another individual who could have been an alternative to the Dursleys—at least had he not betrayed his parents.
However, the government's investigation into Sirius Black's arrest and trial were getting nowhere. It was as if there was no record of the event whatsoever—and the situation was made far more urgent, considering the individual in question had somehow pulled off the impossible, and escaped. Harry was aware of this conundrum, and would be asking some pointed questions of Dumbledore next time he was summoned to the man's office. Equally, Harry would have some very hard questions for Black himself, should they ever meet.
1 September, 2003
"Gods, I so hope Dumbledore managed to find someone half-decent for Dark Arts Defence this year," Harry grumbled, as he sorted through his books, ensuring he had the right items for that year.
"Will says it's someone named Remus Lupin," said Justin. The group was gathered in Harry's room as he prepared to meet the train in London.
"What does the Commonwealth know about him?"
"Not a whole lot, the guy's kept himself below the radar since he left Hogwarts. Had excellent grades, made a prefect—certainly has strong marks in the subject if that's what you're wondering. Maybe you lucked out this year."
"Good. Having to run a study group to cover for shoddy teaching wasn't really in the curriculum," Harry muttered.
"Maybe I should apply then," said Mazhe, "Seems they let just about anyone teach these days."
"Well, they do have a ghost teaching history."
"Which reinforces my point."
"And no doubt you'd make an awesome teacher. I know you virtually live in the Arcaneum at times, Mazhe."
"WHAT THE?!"
Mazhe had undone the wide leather strap holding a thick tome bound, and the book had literally come alive, trying to take a bite out of him. He dropped it, and it proceeded to chase him onto the bed, scattering a good number of items Harry had sorted through to go into his trunk.
"Bloody hell the thing's alive," Harry cursed, as it chose a more viable target—him. He too, was forced up onto the bed, brandishing his wand in one hand, a frost spell at the ready in his other.
"Gods, I've heard of rogue literature before, but this brings it new meaning!"
"Come on, guys, it's easy to tame this one!" Justin half-laughed, as he jumped on the offensive book with both feet. It let out an awful shriek as though injured.
"Is... everything all right?" Tolfdir now stood in the doorway, looking somewhat confused. Justin still stood on the source of the excitement. Mazhe was standing on Harry's desk chair, while Harry was standing on his bed, the items he was preparing to pack into his trunk now scattered in all directions.
"Um, possessed literature, sir," answered Harry, sheepishly.
"Oh. I see." Tolfdir managed to suppress a laugh, and was gone. Harry let out a sigh.
"To Oblivion with this. Dobby?"
Pop. "Harry Potter sir call for Dobby?"
"Yeah. We... um... need a bit of help packing my trunk. The, uh, book gave us a bit of a start," Harry explained, still feeling like an idiot.
"Dobby is pleased to help!" A snap of the little elf's fingers, and everything took on a mind of its own, folding itself, and stacking itself neatly in or beside Harry's trunk.
"Thanks, Dobby, you're the best!"
"Anything for Harry Potter, sir!"
"Will you be able to help him while he's at Hogwarts?" asked Mazhe.
"If that is what Harry Potter sir wants, Dobby would be honoured."
"I think that would be brilliant. Is there something you can do, some place you can be so you won't look out of place?"
"Dobby is already working there now, Harry Potter sir. In the kitchens, with the rest of the elves."
"You mean, there are house elves at Hogwarts?"
"Of course! Harry, who do you think cleans the castle, makes the meals, stuff like that?" Justin pointed out.
"Oh. I never really thought of it."
Harry turned back to his little friend.
"All right then. It's great having an extra ally in the school."
"Harry Potter sir just call on Dobby, and Dobby comes."
"Excellent. I'll see you tonight then." With an excited nod, the little elf vanished with a noisy crack.
"Is it just me, or is he a little mad?" said Mazhe.
"A little mad, yeah, I agree. Dobby's had a rough go of things though. I was thoroughly pissed to realize how badly he was being treated. It was a nice little method for getting back at the bastard."
"Really though. Be careful, Harry. The Government's file on the Malfoys contains nothing good. They're downright dangerous," Justin warned him.
"Yeah, I drew that conclusion the first time I met them. Doesn't mean I'll let either of them get away with trampling all over me or anyone else for that matter."
At 10:30, the group went through the barrier onto platform nine and three-quarters.
"Harry!" Harry was spun around by Hermione, who gave him a warm hug.
"'lo, Hermione. Good summer?"
"For the most part. Oh. Let me introduce you to someone. This is Crookshanks."
Hermione picked up a wire cage, inside of which was a ginger-haired cat. To Harry, its face looked like it had run itself repeatedly into a wall or something of the sort. He was careful not to laugh.
"He's lovely. When did you get him?"
"Mum and dad bought him as a late birthday gift a few days ago. I met Ron and his brothers in Diagon Alley while I was purchasing my school things."
"Speak of the devil," Harry grinned, shaking Ron's hand, "Good summer?"
"The best," said Ron, eagerly, "Dad won a contest at work, so we spent most of the summer in Egypt with Bill, our oldest brother."
"Bill works as a curse breaker for Gringotts," said George, "Right scary job, what he tells us, but the pay is good."
"No, Harry, you can't be a curse breaker," said Mazhe, with a smirk.
"Aww, why not?" Harry smirked right back.
"Right, you guys better get on the train. Same as last year, I'll see you in a weeks' time," Justin promised.
"I look forward to it." The three of them embraced, and Mazhe gripped Justin's shoulder.
"See you soon." They vanished with a noisy pop.
Harry boarded the train with his friends from Hogwarts. They took little time commandeering a compartment, although this one was already occupied by a lone individual. Fred, George, and Percy had gone off in a different direction, likely to join their year-mates, and in Percy's case, to head up to the prefect's compartment.
"Death warmed over," Ron commented dryly, as they stowed their trunks out of the way.
"Ron!"
"Just saying..."
"It's not nice," Hermione scolded.
However, Ron was quite right, if judging by the individual's appearance. He wore shabby robes, and looked deathly ill. He had mousy hair that was going unnaturally grey in places for his age, and numerous scars criss-crossed his face.
"Wonder who it is?"
"Our new Dark Arts Defence professor," Harry answered, seeing the name stencilled on his satchel, "Remus J. Lupin."
"How do you know that?"
"Lemme guess," said Ron, "The government has a file on him."
"Got it in one. At least this time he's got some sort of knowledge of the subject... did quite well apparently... though we'll see, I guess."
Harry took a seat on the bench beside the professor, who appeared to be sleeping.
"Harry. Ron, Hermione," Neville greeted, as he entered the compartment.
"Hi Neville. Good summer?"
"Yeah, brilliant."
Neville put a hand over his robe pocket, pushing Trevor back inside.
"How come you don't get him a cage?" Harry suggested, gesturing to his friend's pocket.
"He might not like it."
"Better than him getting lost. Just sayin', is all."
"Well... I suppose. You got a new cat, Hermione?"
He spotted the ginger cat now resting on the young witch's lap.
"Got him this past weekend in Diagon Alley. This is Crookshanks."
"He's already tried to eat Scabbers, twice," Ron scowled.
"He's a rat, Ron, what do you expect?!"
"If you keep him in his cage, he'll be okay I'm sure," said Harry, trying not to laugh, "I mean, I have seen Hedwig giving Scabbers some rather unhealthy attention as well."
"The both of you are mental," Ron raved.
Lupin let out a snort, but did not wake.
"Who's that?" Neville asked.
"Our new Dark Arts Defence professor," said Harry.
"Hope he's better than last year."
"Me too," Harry agreed, "Though I'm still open to running the study group again, seeing how popular it was last year."
"Out of necessity, Harry," said Hermione, "Not that there's anything wrong with it."
"Exactly. I do teach fully-grown wizards back at the college, so you guys are a piece of cake."
"Hey, I resent that!" Ron cried in mock-protest. That resulted in a round of laughter.
The mood suddenly grew serious, as Ron brought up the subject of Sirius Black.
"Yeah, I know who he is, yes, I know he escaped," Harry answered, really not wanting to discuss it.
"But you are going to be careful, right?" questioned Hermione.
"Hermione, I'm always careful, now that I know exactly what kind of institution Dumbledore is truly running. Honestly, had I known beforehand, I wouldn't have come. The Commonwealth would have been a much better fit in the long run, I think."
"But... We wouldn't have met, either!" Hermione protested.
"That's true. You guys are probably the few reasons I really have in returning. Without you guys, I would tell Dumbledore to stuff it, even with the threat of losing my inheritance."
That got a warm smile out of the witch.
"Seriously, though, I'm already learning far more than most of you are, because I have to. I know who I am, what I have to do. I can't say too much, other than I know why Voldemort came after me twelve years ago. Whatever happened then, he's not finished with me. Not by a long shot."
"But you-know-who is gone, Harry," Neville objected.
"For now. But not for good. As I said, I have more information than I can talk about. Loose lips sink ships and so on."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"Everything I'm doing, is because of what I have to face in my future. I have to be ready."
The compartment fell into silence for a while, the rain beating heavily on the windows now, as the train raced its way north. Remus Lupin barely moved, still sleeping heavily. Harry was again beginning to have doubts about the guy as a Dark Arts Defence professor. It looked like a strong gust of wind would carry the man away. It was like the man was sick. Sick from what though?
Harry let the gentle sway of the carriages soothe him into a half-sleep. Perhaps, maybe this year might still be better than last. Though, if he truly thought about it, the time at Hogwarts in itself wasn't really the problem—save for the lacklustre Defence Against The Dark Arts teachers. Professor McGonagall was brilliant, as was Professor Flitwick. Now that everyone had the basics under their belts, both classes were moving along a little more briskly, and if the text books were any indication, they were moving into more interesting territory.
Beginning that year, there were a bunch of electives open to them, and Harry had chosen Care of Magical Creatures, as well as Ancient Runes as his elective courses. He'd glanced at Divination, but Justin had shook his head, declaring it a useless subject. You either had it, or you didn't, simple as that.
Something was off. Something felt—a chill was coming over the compartment, and it pulled Harry out of his comfortable half-sleep.
"What is that?" he muttered, noting now he could see his breath. The train had come to a stop for some reason. "We can't be there yet."
"No. Look... something's outside," said Neville, pointing out the window. A shape had just drifted past the window, something akin to a ghost, except that it was not.
"What is it?"
"I dunno, nothing I've experienced before," said Harry, drawing his wand and standing, "Get... get behind me."
Something was definitely out in the corridor now, causing the lights in the compartment to flicker. It had gotten so cold, frost was beginning to form on the windows.
Then... the lights went out for good. Harry could hear shrieks and yelps from other parts of the carriage, as students reacted to the unexpected darkness. Harry flicked his free hand at the ceiling, and an orb of light stuck there, bathing the compartment in soft, white light.
"Stay behind me, I mean it."
Harry could hear something else now, outside the compartment, giving slow, rattling breaths. Whatever it was, it wasn't friendly, and it was coming closer. Harry stowed his wand, and brought up both hands, erecting the strong magical ward Tolfdir had taught him—one of the first spells Harry learned to cast. A blue-ish shield bloomed from his hands, to stretch from floor to ceiling, becoming stronger as the seconds ticked by.
"Harry, what is it?"
"Shield ward. I... I dunno what's out there... just, stay behind me."
The figure that glided up to the compartment stretched to the ceiling, wearing a ragged cloak, the hood obscuring its face. One of its hands was visible, however, and seeing it made Harry think of a Draugr. It was withered, slimy, decayed—exactly like a Draugr.
But Harry knew this was not a Draugr. The Draugr didn't cause the room temperature to plunge to near-freezing. Whatever this was, it was something worse. The hand had reached out, and was opening the door... Harry could feel the immense cold, seeping into his very soul, and the shield he had produced vanished, as he succumbed to the darkness. The last thing he remembered, were terrified, pleading screams.
"Harry? Are you all right?"
Someone was gently shaking him.
"'m fine... just..." Harry dared open his eyes, and found the compartment once again alight with the lamps. He was laying splayed out on the floor, with the others around him, including the now very much awake Remus Lupin. Ron offered a hand to get him up off the floor.
"Thanks, mate. What... what was that?"
Harry sat down heavily, feeling a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He still felt slightly cold, and unsettled. Professor Lupin was breaking a large slab of chocolate into small pieces.
"Here," he said, "Have this, it'll help."
"Err... thanks." Harry accepted the chocolate, and took a bite. It was semi-sweet, but seemed to be perfect for the situation.
"What... what was that thing?" he asked again.
"A Dementor," answered Lupin, as he passed pieces of chocolate to others, "A guardian of Azkaban. Eat, it'll help. I, meanwhile, need to go have a word with the driver." He stood up, and left the compartment.
"Shor's balls, another year starts off in chaos," Harry muttered, as he snatched another piece of chocolate from the pile Lupin had left on the seat.
Harry still didn't feel the greatest when the train at last arrived in Hogsmeade. The sight of Hagrid, however, did lift his spirits somewhat. More friendly faces and a bit of normalcy was about right, given what he had just experienced. The entire evening, for the most part, was somewhat in a haze, as though the Dementor had left a lingering presence behind. Not even consuming a healing potion had really done a whole lot. If anything, the chocolate had a better effect.
They had all had a lengthy discussion about what had happened, but it was all peculiar. Why would such vile creatures be allowed on a train load of young children?! A letter would be dispatched in the morning, Harry decided, but for now, a good night's rest was in order.
The first day of lessons introduced two new classes for Harry: Ancient runes in the morning, and Care of Magical Creatures as last class in the afternoon. Harry found Ancient Runes to be fascinating, as he could easily think back to some of the things he had learned in Skyrim—the Nordic culture there was reflected so strongly on Norse culture in his own world. It was a broader understanding of some truly complicated magic, something that would be truly useful later on.
Care of Magical Creatures, on the other hand, was chosen as something of self-interest, although he had no idea Hagrid would be taking the post. It just fit, he thought, given the man's interest in such things. It was the last course of the day, and it felt good to be outside in the warm afternoon sun.
Unfortunately, the fun was somewhat ruined by the fact Malfoy and his cronies had also taken the course. As if Harry didn't have to put up with the blond ponce's irritating presence enough, this would be hell. It was well known how little Malfoy respected Hagrid.
It went down hill from there. Hagrid introduced them to Hippogriffs, of all things. True, they were spectacular animals, but downright dangerous to introduce in the first lesson. Still, Harry had readily participated in the lesson, and somewhat enjoyed the flight on the back of the immense beast. Certainly not as comfortable as riding on a broom, but something he would do again if given the chance.
The rest of the class climbed into the paddock, and for a while, things went rather smoothly. At least, until Malfoy went too far, while patting the nose of one of the animals.
"This is very easy," he drawled, loud enough for Harry to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it... I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you—"
BANG! Harry's well-placed banishing hex sent the boy cartwheeling across the paddock, while Hagrid quickly got control of the Hippogriff, whom he had called Buckbeak.
"Are you truly that daft?!" Harry snarled, storming over to the blond, "It could have cut you down where you stood."
"I'll—I'll have you expelled for this, Potter!" Malfoy roared, storming back to his feet. "Wait 'till my father hears about this!"
The other Slytherins had already raised their wands, and spell-fire lit up the paddock. Needless to say, a bucket full of house points were lost on both sides, and a weeks' detentions were handed out in the end. It furthered Harry and Draco's animosity toward one another, but as far as the lesson had went, nothing further would come of it.(1)
Unlike the previous two years, it became evident right from the start, that the Dark Arts Defence professor was more than up to scratch this time around. There was not one word of dissent amongst those who truly mattered regarding the subject. Oh, sure, the Slytherins had loads to say, and none of it nice, but in Harry's book, their opinion didn't count for anything.
His first lesson had been about something called a Boggart, a foul shape-shifter which took the form of its victim's darkest fears. It's something Harry had not thought all that much about up to this point, but the foul entity was only too happy to show him.
The entire class had been taken to the staffroom, where there stood a single wardrobe, quivering and rattling ominously. Then, each of them faced the thing in the wardrobe, beginning with Neville. Professor Snape was rather comical, wearing a woman's clothes. Not that he would ever tell him, of course. The man was sour at the best of times, and as of late, particularly vicious, likely considering what had happened a few days prior in Care of Magical Creatures.
The class moved on, with each of them facing the Boggart. Ron's was, as expected, a giant spider (whose feet were suddenly bound in roller skates, most comical). Seamus and his Banshee (who suddenly lost its voice). The list kept going, until...
"NO!" It was a shriek, as Harry's knees went weak at the figure who lay prone on the floor.
"Harry..."
"R-riddikulus," Harry tried. He barely heard his classmates muttering and whispering behind him.
"Riddikulus!" Harry whimpered again.
Crack! The shape shifted from dead Mazhe, to dead Justin. He felt dead inside, the crushing, horrible weight of being truly alone. "N-n-no..."
"Riddikulus!" Lupin spoke, firmly, standing in between Harry and the Boggart.
Crack! For a few moments, there hung in the air what looked like a silvery orb.
"Riddikulus," Lupin spoke again, and gave a hearty laugh, causing the orb to seemingly explode into a thousand tiny shreds and vanish.
"Well done, everyone. Everyone who successfully tackled the Boggart take five points each. An excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me...to be handed in on Monday. That will be all—Harry, if you will stay behind, please."
Harry watched as everyone filed out, leaving him behind with the professor.
"A truly frightful thing, to be left bereft of those you have known and cared for for so long."
"It... it was, sir," Harry answered, quietly, still out of sorts from what he'd just been treated to.
"Even though it wasn't real, I can truly appreciate what you felt like. Harry, I knew your parents."
Harry looked the professor in the eye.
"So did Professor McGonagall, and—"
"I knew your mother and father quite personally. We went to school together."
"Oh. Well... I guess that's different."
"It is. Your mother and your father couldn't have been two more honourable people. From some of the things I hear, you are turning out to be similar in many ways."
"But not all, am I right?"
"Professor Dumbledore is worried."
"Worried that I won't be his little soldier, his tool. Professor, that's all he wants. I hope you're speaking to me because of what you want, rather than what he does."
For once, Harry was glad to feel the anger surge up inside him, to replace the crushing sorrow that had held him in its grip since his bout with the Boggart.
"Harry, I find that rather offensive that you would make that sort of assumption."
"S-sorry. I honestly don't have a lot of trust in the headmaster at this point. He's tried to Obliviate me once, did he tell you that?"
Lupin gave Harry a furious look.
"Did he now?"
"At the end of first year. He called me into his office. Now—" he looked up, and seeing the door to the staffroom was still open, gave a gesture with his hand, causing it to shut. "See, the Commonwealth had my relatives carted off to jail by the non-magical authorities when I was six years old. So I get called up to his office, and he tells me I have to go back to them. So he admitted there and then, he had somehow broken them out of jail... likely used memory charms on those involved... just so I would be put back in that miserable environment. If the man thinks I would just willingly go back to such a place, he is truly mad."
"This is truly disturbing, Harry. Those are some pretty strong accusations."
"You have no idea. Then last year, he again tried to get me put back with the Dursleys. He somehow got my current guardians to write a letter releasing me to his care. The Ministry of Justice is still seriously considering levelling charges on him for that—meddling with a ward of the crown and all that. Thing is, the headmaster's not this lily-white saint everyone paints him to be. He'll sell my soul to the devil if it advances his cause for the Greater Good..." Harry put air brackets around the phrase 'greater good'.
Lupin snarled in his own head. How dare he. If James and Lily were still alive, they would likely draw and quarter the old man—or at least hex him rather painfully. He calmed himself.
"You have been raised in the Commonwealth. They see to your needs?"
"More than, yes," answered Harry. "My best friend... he was... he was the first, uh..."
"I know, go on."
"He's a few years older than me, but... if I wasn't here, I would be in class with him, back in the... there's a place the Commonwealth sent me to just after they rescued me from the Dursleys. Their magic is a little different than ours, but compatible."
"I've been meaning to ask you about the spell you used on the train."
"You mean this one." Harry again pressed his hands out in front of him, calling up the ward spell. It was somewhat weaker than it had been on the train, even after charging it up. The shock from a few minutes prior was still prevalent.
"A rather different shield charm, I say."
"One of the first spells I learned at the College of Winterhold. I've been learning about magic since I was six—though not being allowed to actually practice until I was eight."
"Harry, I truly shudder at the kind of power you may wield one day."
"I don't aim to be the most powerful wizard alive, I just want to be sure that I can protect myself and those I care about. I guess... what just happened... was a bit of a reminder." The shield vanished.
"Indeed, life does have a way of throwing rather humbling things at you. Now. You understand at this point, that the shield you know how to produce will not work against a Dementor."
Harry grimaced. "Yeah, I sort of figured that, Professor."
"There is, however, a charm which most certainly will drive away a Dementor. Understand, Harry, this is truly advanced magic, the sort which many adult witches and wizards have trouble with. Expecto Patronum."
A wave of light shimmered out of Lupin's extended wand, bathing the room in a bluish light.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry repeated.
"Yes. I offer to teach you this charm, but I again remind you, it is truly advanced magic. Don't berate yourself if you can't pull it off." The light vanished.
"I'll give it my best."
"And that's all I expect. Now it's best we be off to dinner, wouldn't want to keep you away from your friends for too long."
The Halloween feast had been amazing, lasting well into the evening. Given the seriousness of things just outside the castle walls, Harry was finding it difficult to relax, ever since the train ride, as a matter of fact. Dementors prowling just outside the school grounds! The Commonwealth had loads to say about it, but given they weren't in charge of Hogwarts, nothing changed.
So, needless to say, a little bit of fun was exactly what he had needed at this point—and it certainly carried with them back to the Gryffindor common room. In fact, it was very late before the tower settled down. Harry didn't remember when he finally went to sleep.
Sometime before dawn, he awoke to an odd noise coming from nearby. Cracking open an eye, he barely made out a shadowy figure looming over his friend's bed.
KAWHACK!
Whoever it was fell to the floor, moaning, clutching his right side in agony, a thick icy projectile still embedded there. A crude knife clattered to the floor and rolled under Seamus' bed.
"Wha's goin' on?" Ron mumbled, the noise having woken him. Harry said nothing, but flung a hand at the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft glow.
"Harry—who's that?" Dean Thomas was equally startled awake by the noise.
"Go fetch Professor McGonagall right away," Harry decided, quickly collecting his wand.
The man was still collapsed on the floor in a heap, rocking back and forth with the severity of the projectile still lodged in his side. Dean looked nervously at the man, but quickly obeyed Harry's instructions. It was pretty much accepted at this point, Harry was the leader of their year, and usually he didn't ask someone to do something without a good reason. This looked like a damned good reason.
Harry, meanwhile, brandished his wand at the man.
"Wait. You're... you're Sirius Black!" Ron stammered.
At once, he felt Scabbers trying to escape from his pocket.
"The... your rat..." Sirius muttered, "Disguise... Pettigrew..."
"What? He's been... OW! He bit me!" Ron howled, as the rat jumped up onto the bed.
Harry, of course, had a suspicion of what might be going on, and a sharp gesture of his hand snared the rat, and it flew across the room to his outstretched hand.
"Stun him, Harry," Sirius said, his voice barely a whisper, "I have all the answers you'll need."
Harry obliged, but still held his wand on the man.
"Start talking. I'm sure Professor McGonagall's on her way, likely along with Dumbledore," said Harry, dangerously.
"It was Peter Pettigrew... who betrayed your parents. Not me. I was meant as a decoy."
"And this rat is Pettigrew? How?"
"His Animagus form is a rat," Sirius answered, "If I had a wand, I could force him to change back."
"Harry no," said Ron, shaking his head vigorously.
"Forgive me if I don't trust you," said Harry, a little softer.
He gestured at the ice spike buried in the man's side, and vanished it.
"Here. Healing potion. Drink it, it'll fix the injury."
"Thank you." Sirius consumed the potion, and looked momentarily surprised. "A potion that doesn't taste disgusting."
"I make potions differently. So tell me, Mr. Black. What really happened the night my parents died?"
"Yes, indeed, a story I would love to hear as well, Black."
Everyone's head swivelled to find Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway to the dormitory in her nightdress, her hair let down, and her face looking severe as ever.
"How is it you came to be in the dormitory in the first place?"
"I do have a way with the Fat Lady, professor," answered Sirius, as he sat up.
"Before I tell this story, however, I think it's time Peter Pettigrew showed himself."
Sirius indicated the still-stunned rat laying on the foot of Ron's bed.
"If you would cast the Animagus reversal charm, Professor."
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips again, but drew her wand, and gestured at the rat.
"Animagus Reversus."(2)
A flash of blue-white light bloomed from the end of her wand, to impact with the stunned rat. It was followed by a second bang, and within seconds, in place of a rat, lay a prone, rather pudgy man. Harry guessed him to be about his own height, if shorter, with a rather prominent bald spot. His features were still rat-like—he wondered if that was due to his Animagus form, or something else. Harry thrust a hand at the door, sealing it shut.
"You mind waking him, Professor?"
"Rennervate," Professor McGonagall spoke, and the dumpy rat-turned-wizard spasmed as he woke up.
"H-h-harry," he stuttered, his eyes at last locking with Harry's. He looked around, and instantly knew, he was in deep trouble.
"S-sirius, old—friend..."
"Hello, Peter, good of you to join us," answered Sirius, dangerously.
Four wands were now being pointed at the dumpy wizard, while Harry helped Sirius to his feet.
"Some things aren't always what they seem to be," Harry muttered. "SOOO... Tell us, Peter. What happened the night my parents were killed?"
It was quite the eye-opener, as the two former friends fought with each other (verbally, at least). Harry, however, had pretty much made up his mind at this point: Sirius Black was an innocent man. Peter Pettigrew was the proof. The man was supposed to be dead, supposedly murdered by Sirius in non-magical London. It was truly a grand deception, and just looking at Pettigrew, Harry was ready to kill him right there and then.
He knew better than to do so. The British Ministry of Magic needed to hear the tale as well, hopefully while Pettigrew was under the effects of a powerful truth serum. Equally, the Commonwealth needed to know what was going on. As they continued to talk about things, Harry was already penning a letter to Alice. Knowing how quickly the Commonwealth worked, he would be quite surprised if representatives from the government didn't arrive at the school sometime that day.
Shortly after the sun rose, Dumbledore appeared in the dormitory, and things somewhat wrapped up. Given the extraordinary events, all five occupants of the dormitory were given the morning off, so they might get a bit of rest, all considered.
Harry, however, insisted on going at least up to the headmaster's office to see Sirius off to the Ministry. Dumbledore objected, but McGonagall thought it was perfectly acceptable, and so the headmaster reluctantly allowed it. Pettigrew was already firmly bound in heavy manacles which were charmed to prevent Animagus transformations. Naturally, he protested and pleaded all the way up to the office, trying to play on Harry's feelings and the like.
That had no bearing on what Harry thought of the man. Pettigrew had betrayed his parents—and Harry himself—in a most spectacular manner. He had then proceeded to frame Sirius for the deed, resulting in the man being locked away in a truly terrible place for twelve years. It was unforgivable.
The group stepped into Dumbledore's office, and quickly realized they weren't alone. Amelia Bones was there, along with four Aurors. Harry remembered seeing two of them the year before, when they dealt with Lockhart (who by this point was a long-term resident of Azkaban). They were joined by Will and Alice, as well as the Commonwealth's Minister of Justice, and two Aurors of their own.
"Good day, Professor," said Madam Bones, gravely, "It seems we have a spot of bad business."
"It does look that way," said Dumbledore.
This was not good. How was it the foreign Ministry was already aware of the situation? Without them there, it would have been quite simple to fix things. With them present, his hastily-formed plans went up in flames.
"Harry, good to see you again," said Alice, as they shook hands. "I'd like you to meet Nathan Blake, our Minister for Justice."
"Pleasure, sir," said Harry, and there was another round of handshakes.
"I believe there is business here," said Nathan, "Now whether it's bad or not, that remains to be seen. Mr. Black, I presume."
"Er... yes," answered Sirius, uncertain of who they were exactly.
"I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if we might take this somewhere where we might be a bit more comfortable," said Nathan.
"We would actually like to take this back to the Ministry," said Madam Bones.
"With due respect, Madam Bones, the matter at hand concerns your Ministry," said Alice, "And since this also involves her majesty's ward, it most definitely involves the Commonwealth of Valicadia."
"I... very well, Miss Wheeler, your concerns are most certainly well-founded."
"If you would give me a minutes' time, I believe I might be able to reorganize the room," said Dumbledore.
He drew his wand, and twirled it in the air, making gestures at several objects in his office. They began to move on their own accord, and take on new shapes, namely a large table and a number of chairs that properly suited a conference room. The entire process took less than a minute.
"Thank you, Professor," said Harry. He did not trust the man, but he most certainly respected the power the man possessed. It was truly some advanced transfiguration at play.
Peter Pettigrew was bound to one of the chairs immediately, and everyone else took seats.
"Professor, I think I would like Mr. Pettigrew questioned while under truth serum," Harry decided. Both Nathan and the Aurors who were with him looked impressed. Dumbledore, meanwhile, looked even more defeated.
Amelia Bones, however, couldn't agree more. The Ministry was already looking foolish with the fiasco as it was. An innocent man sent to Azkaban? Scandalous! Heads would roll, if she had her way about it.
"Professor McGonagall, would you mind sending for Professor Snape?" Madam Bones asked, "I believe he may have the sort of potion we need. Have him bring along an antidote as well, just so we cross our T's and dot our I's."
"I'll send for him straight away."
"Is this truly necessary?" Dumbledore asked, appearing weary.
"How is that this sort of thing has happened in the first place, headmaster? You are Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, are you not?"
"You have to understand, Miss Wheeler, immediately following the fall of Voldemort, our world was in disarray. Surly, you do remember the days and weeks immediately following."
"A fair argument, it was certainly not our greatest moment," Madam Bones agreed, "I still fear for those who may be languishing in Azkaban without any charges, mind a trial. So help me, Albus..."
"It is fair to say, an enquiry may be necessary."
"Beyond necessary," Harry muttered, then added, hastily, "sir."
"I might remind you that you are only a guest here—" Dumbledore began.
"Excuse me. Mr. Potter is more than a guest, as you say. He has every right to be involved in this, considering this entire mess centres around him in the first place!" Alice roared. "You've crossed the line several times already when it comes to his affairs, you keep it up it'll be you facing an enquiry."
"What sort of line?" Madam Bones asked, giving Dumbledore a hard look.
"Let's not get into that mess," said Harry, "This nonsense is enough as it is. Shor's balls, I really regret agreeing to come here."
That got a shocked look out of Sirius.
"Why would you say that, Harry?"
"Really don't want to get into it. But I'm sure Alice will fill you in long before I get a chance to."
Professor Snape arrived shortly after, bringing with him a tiny bottle filled with a clear liquid: Veritaserum. Dosed with three drops of the potion, Pettigrew was asked some very pointed questions, while dicta-quills recorded the answers on parchment. Those answers more than vindicated Sirius Black of all wrong-doing with regard to Harry and his parents. The opposite extreme, it lay the root of all Harry's misery at the feet of the rat.
"Well. Peter, I hope you're happy. You destroyed not one, but three—if not four lives," said Harry, his features darkening. "Without you, my parents might still be alive. Without you, Sirius wouldn't have been left to rot for twelve years in Azkaban. And without you, 'I' wouldn't have been left to rot at the Dursleys for nearly six years."
Harry leaned across the table, and horked a big gob of spit on the dumpy wizard.
"Tahrodiis mey! Aav Dilon!"(3)
"Harry!"
"Mr. Potter..."
"What?! He deserves no better. I'm about ready to murder him where he sits."
"So am I, kiddo, but that will only get you in trouble yourself," said Sirius, softly.
One of the Commonwealth Aurors showed a little bit of compassion, and spelled the spit off the traitor's face.
"Thank you," Peter mumbled, but the Auror gave him a tragic look.
"Don't thank me, Mr. Pettigrew, we still haven't decided what we're gonna do with you yet."
"Feed him to the Dementors," said Harry, sourly, "You have his statements, better to be done with him, make sure he can't come back again, that sort of thing."
"Yes and on the issue of Dementors," said Dumbledore, "Since they are no longer needed to be on the lookout for Mr. Black, they are to be removed from the grounds at the earliest convenience."
"If I might borrow your fireplace for a moment then, Professor."
"As far as Mr. Pettigrew goes, I disagree with turning him over to a Dementor, at least for now," said Nathan, "No matter what is said here, the man is still entitled to a trial, is he not? At least give him something that wasn't afforded Mr. Black here."
"That is fair, I believe," Alice agreed, "We don't need to be setting double standards."
"I guess," said Harry.
"We still have him, the trial is but a formality at this point," said one of the British Aurors, a rather tall, dark-skinned wizard, who spoke with a deep, booming voice. "As for Mr. Black, we do require he come with us to the Ministry to sign off on a bit of paperwork."
"After which, we would be interested in meeting with him," said Nathan.
"And if it is okay with Mr. Black, we would be willing to tag along with him to the Ministry to settle affairs," said Alice.
She looked at Harry.
"Harry, if you would like, you're welcome to come along as well."
"That's not possible," said Dumbledore, perhaps a little more harshly than he'd meant, as it had everyone at the table scowling.
"And why not, headmaster? Given I am one of two caseworkers assigned Mr. Potter's file, you can be assured I do have the authority to act as a parent or guardian. And, given Mr. Black seems to have been given the title of godfather as he mentioned earlier in our conversation, Harry has every right to be a part of this process, whether you approve of it or not."
"This is nasty business as it is," said Harry, "But we could make it even messier, headmaster. I still haven't forgotten about last spring... or the spring before that-"
"Very well, Harry. If you so wish to attend to these rather difficult proceedings, then so be it," said Dumbledore, once again irritated. The glorious plan he'd hatched over the summer had been completely shredded, and now there was no hope in putting things back together. A bell could not be un-rung, even with a certain device he was well aware of.
"I'll be sure to notify Potter's afternoon teachers," said McGonagall. She wondered exactly what Potter meant by 'Last spring' and 'the spring before that'. What had Albus done now?
The remainder of the fall term became rather interesting, as several different parties entered regular contact, much to Dumbledore's chagrin. Peter Pettigrew's hearing lasted a half-hour at best, with the man being sentenced to a life term in Azkaban, being found guilty of being a Death Eater, betraying Harry's parents, and framing Sirius Black. Rumour was, that ironically, the rat now occupied the same cell Sirius had.
Sirius was in frequent contact with Harry through the owl post, as the pair got to know each other. After all, had things happened as they should have, he would have assumed the role of a parent, being Harry's godfather. Sirius had not come right out and asked it, and at this point, Harry was unsure what to think. Did he need someone to take an active role as a parent?
The honest answer, no. Harry was far to independent at this point. No, the big thing Harry needed were allies, people willing to stand beside him and behind him. Honestly, he already had people in those sort of roles.
At the same time, he certainly wouldn't push Sirius away, no more than he would Lupin. He had known Harry's parents, too, and equally, had been one of Sirius' best friends—until the night Voldemort killed Harry's parents. Then, it was a web of lies and deceit. A good number of tears were shed between grown men when they at last met, and all was forgiven. Now the question was, what sort of support could he count on from them?
19 December, 2003
The welcoming party had expanded by one when Harry stepped off the train back in London. Sirius was standing with Justin, Mazhe, Alice, and Will. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there as well, although the two groups did not mingle.
"Harry... Gods, you can't win for losing, it seems," said Mazhe, as the pair embraced.
"I'm cursed, that's all there is to it."
"Cursed?" Sirius gave Harry a pained look.
"Magnet for trouble, is what he means. I guess you guys have met?" Harry asked, as he gave Mazhe a one-armed embrace.
"Of course, kiddo. I would say let's head back to the house, but it's in no condition for visitors."
"The original plan was to head back to the College of Winterhold," said Mazhe.
"Still is. We've already had the access list modified for the fireplace. We'll still need to take a port key to Trevelyan."
"And you'll be coming to visit the Burrow after Christmas, right?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, for sure. I'll be keeping my visit back to the College short this holiday, got some catching up to do and all."
"Yes, and don't forget about the Christmas party on Monday. You should all have invitations," said Alice.
Harry cast a glance at Mazhe.
"You won't be missed if you stick around?"
"No. I let Farengar know I would be likely spending a few weeks away, so he's not expecting me back until the middle of Sun's Dawn."
"Sun's Dawn?" Sirius was confused.
"Err... the middle of January," Harry clarified, "They have the same number of months and so on, but the names are different."
"That must've taken some time to get straight."
"No, not really. Sirius, I was six years old when I landed in Skyrim. I lived there for five years, I've pretty much grew up there."
"And he met me. It was nice to have someone around my own age," said Mazhe, "He's sorely missed."
"Sorry I can't be there very much anymore. But... I guess this sort of thing was only a matter of time—never mind a certain meddling old man."
"Harry!" Hermione scolded.
"What, it's true. Really though, we'd best get going. I'll see the lot of you in a few days."
A few minutes later, they gathered in the room they used as a classroom in the Hall of Attainment. A call for Dobby had a platter of treats and a tea service provided on short notice.
"Professor Dumbledore is not a very happy man these days," said Sirius, as he took a seat, and began to fix himself a cup of tea. "I caught him once with his wand out, about to point it at me. Minerva happened to walk in before he could do whatever it was he was about to do, but it's worrisome."
"I did mention he tried to Obliviate me at the end of first year. What's he afraid of?"
"You, Harry," answered Justin, "Dumbledore is afraid you might upset his hold on his positions of power. You've been raised away from his influence, and now by freeing Sirius, you've cut one more potential avenue of control he might have had over you."
"He's now asking me—nearly demanding access to my house. He says he wants to use it as a headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."
"Who are they?" Mazhe asked.
"An organization put together back during the first reign of Voldemort. It was created to openly fight him and so on. I was a member, Harry's parents were members, along with loads of others."
"And Dumbledore was its head."
"Still is, Harry. He's not actually began to recall people yet, but he says he wants to be ready, wants to have that option open."
"Has the government reinstated all your assets and so on?" Will asked.
"Everything. Though my vaults were never frozen by the bank. Seems the goblins knew more about my lack of guilt than the Ministry did. I was actually thinking of disposing of the house, it's not in livable condition as it is, and quite frankly, it has too many nasty memories."
"My advice would be to do so. And if you wish, you could most certainly emigrate to the Commonwealth. I'm sure Harry would appreciate having an extra ally close to home."
"What do you want, Harry?"
"I would like that very much," Harry decided, "And... and Professor Lupin, too. Y'know, he's the sort of teacher we should have had from day one."
"He was the smart one of the group," said Sirius, "Professor McGonagall made him a prefect to try and keep a lid on your father and I. Little did she know, he was at many times the master-mind of things."
"What sort of things?" Mazhe looked confused.
"Remember the time Enthir had trouble speaking without sounding like-"
"Oh, when he was talking in that really bad, high-pitched squeaky voice? You did that?"
"I did say I would pay him back for all the merciless teasing he did."
"Gods, that was bordering on hysterical. He certainly respects you now."
"Well, he's always respected me, I think. Being able to produce a ward shield before I was seven, right. He just liked to rattle my cage, and now he knows I can rattle his right back."
Harry gave a little smirk.
"Dad, Sirius, Professor Lupin, and someone-I-will-not-name were pranksters when they went to school."
"Still are, pup," Sirius laughed. He smirked at Harry.
"So what other pranks have you got up to?"
"Well, there was the tongue-tying jinx I cast on Mazhe."
"And he didn't know how to cancel it," Mazhe muttered, "It wasn't funny."
"Not at the time... but I was experimenting."
"Yes, and it was the afternoon before Justin could reverse it. Gods..."
"Question is, where did you learn of such things?"
"That book by Vindictus Viridian."
"Ah, of course. Should have known," Sirius smirked.
December 22 saw the group attend a Christmas party, which was held at the Fox Theatre. The event was split up into two parts: a movie and music in the auditorium, and a reception which lasted until evening in the lobby. The movie of choice: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. As had been the case two years prior, a number of other children and families being seen to by the ministry had also been invited.
The group spent the night in the private government suite, and attended the holiday celebration the following evening, this time featuring a large symphony orchestra, which not only filled the orchestra pit, but part of the stage as well. Joined with the massive theatre organ, it was as magical as the previous years' show.
That Christmas was perhaps his best yet, bolstered by two new allies: Sirius and Remus. The three of them had a lengthy discussion about what Harry wanted, and he welcomed the support of his Godfather. A visit to the Ministry made it official in that Sirius became Harry's official guardian—though Will made it very clear the Commonwealth would not be going away any time soon. Sirius, having been filled in on the mess of things thus far on the count of the English ministry, was more than happy to have the Commonwealth's continued support.
The best Christmas gift he got that year came from Sirius: a brand new Firebolt racing broom. Harry did like to fly, but up to this point had not bothered to purchase a broom for himself. From there, however, he was on it at least once a day.
During his visit to the Burrow the day after Christmas, Ron was green with envy as Harry showed off the new broom. It resulted in an impromptu Quidditch game in the paddock. Harry proved to be more than adept at the game, switching between chaser and seeker. Fred and George were more than impressed at how quickly he was able to track and catch the elusive snitch.
His return to the College of Winterhold was equally interesting, as he took to the air for the first time and saw the place where he grew up from a completely different angle. He actually drew attention of the wrong sort flying over the town of Winterhold itself, as several of the town guard actually started shooting arrows at him, startled by the strange occurrence. It took him landing on the bridge up to the college and walking back down to the town proper before the guards stood down from their defensive posture. They also lectured Harry on his 'odd' behaviour. Naturally, that wasn't the first time he'd been in trouble with the town guards.
A second highlight for Harry was taking his best friend for a ride on his broom. Mazhe had been astounded, seeing the world from the air for the first time. Their flight was much longer, lasting for several hours, as they toured places they'd visited on foot, travelling as far east as a ruin known as Snow Veil Sanctum—a Nordic ruin neither of them had been able to get into (the door had some sort of locking mechanism which was impervious to all known lockpicking methods, magical or not).
In late March, Harry at last had a breakthrough with the Patronus charm. The Dementors had long since been removed from the school grounds, but Harry insisted on learning the charm anyway, knowing all too well he was a magnet for trouble. It was likely not the last time he would face the horrible things, so better be safe than sorry.
It had been his thoughts of his two close friends—Mazhe, his best friend, and Justin, a very close second. Teacher, protector at times, and friend. Their faces provided the emotion needed.
A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him—
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry commanded, feeling a well of confidence flare from inside him, powered by the strong group of memories racing before his mind's eye. And this time, rather than the fuzzy, clouded mist he'd been able to conjure up to this point, a painfully bright silver animal exploded from the tip of his wand.
"Prongs," he heard Lupin whisper, as the animal stormed at the Boggart-Dementor, and it swooped away. It wasn't a horse. It had antlers... a deer? A stag. An enormous stag was bounding around the room, chasing the horrid cloaked thing.
Crack! The Boggart again shifted into a silvery orb, and as the Patronus vanished, Harry got a closer look at the orb. It wasn't an orb at all, but... wait. Those absences, covered by Snape were always on or near... and Remus always looked so shabby during those days up to and immediately after.
"You go through a change on the night of a full moon," said Harry, bluntly.
"You figured it out."
"It finally clicked," answered Harry, as Remus forced the Boggart back into its chest. "You're always missing for a couple of days during the full moon. You're always underweight, you look sickly... and the scars. It just took me until now to realize it."
"Does it worry you?"
"Why would it? I come from a place where there are things a lot scarier than werewolves. Though they... what I'm told, they can change at will, it's something like an Animagus form. But lycanthropy here is a disease. You can't control your transformation."
"Professor Snape has been providing me with wolfsbane potions while I have been here as a teacher."
"I wondered what that was."
"It helps me to retain my own mind even while transformed, and it somewhat eases the symptoms."
Remus looped apprehensively at Harry.
"Being a werewolf makes it very difficult for me to remain in employment."
"I won't tell a soul. You have my word," Harry promised.
"Your mother and father would be very proud of you, Harry. And so am I."
"Thanks, Professor."
"Now, it's just about curfew. I'll walk you back up to Gryffindor tower so you don't run afoul of the prefects."
April 2nd brought yet another surprise for Harry, this one from the Weasley Twins. He happened to walk by a particular statue of a humpbacked one-eyed witch, when it miraculously opened, and the pair climbed out of it. Harry smirked, knowing the pair were likely up to mischief again.
"Harry," said one twin.
"Just the man we were looking for," said the other.
"What can I do for you guys?"
"Well, the school year isn't over for another couple of months yet."
"But, we also know that you don't exactly look forward to the inevitable invite up to the headmaster's office the day the Hogwarts Express leaves," finished the other. It was like a tennis match, listening to them talk.
"What are you guys getting at?"
"Seeing you have the need to avoid certain people,"
"Like Professor Snape..."
"Or Professor Dumbledore..."
"We thought it might be time to share with you..."
"The secret of our success."
"Yeah, the secret to avoiding people..."
"Or finding people..."
"Guys..." Harry said, growing impatient.
"Oh. Right. Sorry. Forge, if you will."
"Right away, Gred." George pulled a folded parchment from his robes.
"Now the trick is, to tap it with your wand, like so-" George touched the parchment with his wand, and spoke, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Harry watched in amazement, as the parchment began to fill up, ink spreading like a spider's web. And then, curly green writing began to appear:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP
It was a truly astounding piece of magic, as it showed the entire castle, and most of the grounds in great detail. Even more astounding, were the little ink dots that seemed to be moving about, and on closer inspection, each had a tiny label attached to it. Harry could easily see Professor Snape in his quarters several floors below... and Professor Dumbledore, pacing in his office—wait, along with the Minister of Magic?
"This is wicked," Harry finally said, "Where did you guys find it?"
"In Filch's office," said Fred.
"Back when we were ickle firsties," George finished.
"Nicked it during detention one night."
"So... the most important thing, is this-" George pointed to the spot where they happened to be standing. Harry could see all three names. What was more interesting, however, was the strange passage that seemed to lead away from the statue. He traced it with a finger.
"Hogsmeade."
"Right in one, Harry," said George.
"This one takes you right into Honeydukes."
"This is brilliant, guys. Look, if you ever need anything... I'm in your debt."
"We'll keep that in mind," said Fred, cheerily.
"Oh, one last thing. To close it, you tap the map again, like so-" George tapped the map with his wand, "and say, mischief managed!" As he did, the ink seemed to vanish from the parchment, leaving it completely blank.
"Otherwise," Fred finished, "Anyone can read the map. Wouldn't want a teacher to confiscate it now would we?"
"Or Moony," Harry grinned.
"Moony?"
"You already know him. And Padfoot, and Prongs. You can call me Son of Prongs, though," Harry grinned again.
Both twins' eyes went wide.
"You're pulling our leg!" George exclaimed.
"I swear it."
"Son of Prongs?"
"Prongs, junior sounds better," said Fred, still grinning.
Harry could only smirk, as the three of them returned to Gryffindor tower. Gods, the mischief he could cause with such an artefact. It was most unfortunate he couldn't share it with Sirius, knowing he would likely mention it to Remus... and given Remus was a teacher, the map would be confiscated in a heartbeat. Perhaps during the summer then. It would be interesting to understand how the map was made, and given he now knew two of those who created it, they would likely be quite willing to share.
The remainder of the term passed relatively quickly, and all too soon, Harry was saying good bye to his friends. There would be no visiting the headmaster this year, no matter what the old man wanted. He had already sent a note to Justin, and they agreed to meet him at the Three Broomsticks the following morning.
His final exam scores had been more than acceptable, save for History of Magic. Having a ghost for a teacher was terribly distracting, and in most cases put the class to sleep, droning on about Goblin wars and other nonsense. Of all his classes, it was his only failing grade, although not by much.
Hermione, naturally, was a little put-out that Harry wouldn't be riding the train back to London with them.
"But it's tradition," she exclaimed, "We HAVE to take the train back."
"Hermione, I know it's tradition. But... I really want to get back to the College, sooner rather than later. I'd leave tonight if I could, but the headmaster might react poorly. Gods, he's likely gonna react poorly anyway when I don't show up for our annual end-of-year chat. But really, I'm not a puppet."
"Well said, mate," Ron agreed.
"And really, if anyone asks, just tell them the truth. I left a little sooner. The term's done, so what if I don't take the train back? I'm meeting my friends in Hogsmeade, and we're taking the floo back to the Commonwealth."
"So we'll see you again over the summer?" Ginny asked, feeling her face get hot.
"I dunno. Depends on what I get up to back in Skyrim. The Arch-mage will likely have me teaching a class again, but if I can get away early, I'll come visit you guys. I told you guys already, your house is wicked."
"Uh, thanks," said Ron, looking at the floor.
"Don't be ashamed of your house, Ron. It's an extraordinary piece of magic. I could feel the love that went into making it—all of you are wealthy beyond your dreams on that fact alone."
"Thanks, Harry!" said Ginny, blushing. Even after two years, she still found it awkward to talk to him.
"But you're coming back next year, right?" Neville dared ask.
"I sort of have to, so yeah, I'll be back in September. I'll even catch the Hogwarts Express, like everyone else!" Harry smirked.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated. "You're so aggravating at times!"
"I know. I try my best!"
True to his word, the following morning, he slipped out, and had breakfast early. In fact, he finished just as a few of the teachers were filing in to take their seats at the head table. As luck would have it, Professor Dumbledore was late. Harry stood up, and left the room, passing a few students on their way in.
He quickly made his way up to the third floor, and found the statue of the humpbacked witch. So now how to open it? The twins, had, of course, left out one important detail. Harry activated the map, and immediately found himself, standing exactly as he was, half-way down the third-floor corridor. So now what? Harry looked a little closer, and he could see his miniature self, tapping the statue with his miniature wand, and a speech bubble appeared, with a single word inside of it: Dissendium.
"Dissendium," said Harry, tapping the statue with his wand.
The statue opened at once, wide enough to admit a thin person—or himself, in this case. Checking again to make sure no one was able to see him, he climbed inside.
The passage took what seemed like an hour to navigate, but at last, the tunnel began to rise, finally leading to a long set of stairs ascending out of sight.
"Great," Harry muttered, and began climbing. Maybe he should just take out his broom, it would probably get him to the top faster. Or not. Better to do it on foot, no telling what was at the top—though the map wouldn't lead him anywhere dangerous... would it?
After what seemed like a good ten minutes of climbing, he bumped his head on something hard—a trap door. Listening carefully, he heard no one above, and so he pushed it open. It was a cellar, by the looks of it, stacked with boxes of all sorts, the inventory for the store, more than likely. He had escaped the school and arrived in Hogsmeade... Honeydukes Sweet Shop, if what he'd read on the map was right.
An unlocking charm and a short walk later, Harry stepped into the Three Broomsticks. Even at this hour of the morning, the place was open, although there weren't normally many people around. Among them, were two people Harry was more than pleased to see: Justin and Mazhe.
"You've escaped, I take it," said Mazhe, with a smirk.
"You could say that," Harry grinned. "Dobby?"
Pop. "Harry Potter sir call for Dobby?"
"Yes. I need you to go back to Gryffindor tower and collect my things—my trunk and so on. Can you see to it?"
"Right away, Harry Potter sir!" The elf popped away.
"Why didn't you just shrink it all down?"
"Less suspicious this way. If they checked the dormitory before I was gone, you know that sort of thing."
"Fair enough," said Justin.
Dobby reappeared with another pop. "Dobby is bringing Harry Potter sir his things. Is he be needing anything else?"
"No. I'm returning to the College of Winterhold for the summer. But if my friends need to contact me, you know how to reach me."
"Dobby remembers very well."
"Good. Barring that, I'll see you likely at the end of August."
"Dobby will wait for your call. Farewell, Harry Potter sir!" And with a pop, he was gone.
"Way too much energy, I think," said Mazhe, shaking his head.
"Yeah, agreed."
"Are you ready to get back to the Commonwealth?" Justin asked.
"Yeah. Before the barmy old man gets any ideas," said Harry, with a scowl.
One by one, the three of them vanished through the fireplace, and thus ended Harry's third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
UP NEXT: An encounter with an Elder Scroll, new trainers, the World Cup of Quidditch, and a mage out of Morthal might have a solution to the matter of Horcruxes...
AUTHOR NOTES: So ends Harry's third year. And now, things really start to get serious. Harry's first visit to Riften, and the shady characters there. And of course, how will the Commonwealth react to Harry being forced to compete in the tournament?
Harry's Boggart is significantly different from canon. I need not remind everyone, Harry's grown up differently, has had different experiences. He's faced some scary things. He hasn't faced Voldemort directly, so that's kind of out. And to have two of his earliest, strongest friends taken from him? Up to this point it was something he'd not given any thought to—at least consciously.
Once again, things get moved ahead by a fair bit—or maybe a lot. Maybe Sirius got the cooperation of Crookshanks a little quicker this time around. Either way, Sirius actually gets into the tower on Halloween this time. But I'm not done with Peter. He'll be back later on...
(1) Since Buckbeak didn't actually attack Draco here, he would have nothing to complain about. Perhaps he might complain about Harry, but he does that on a regular basis already, right?
(2) The incantation is not given for this spell in canon, but I think this will suffice. "Reversus" is Latin for reverse.
(3) "Tahrodiis mey! Aav Dilon!" - "Treacherous fool! Join [the] dead!"