A/N Credit for the Men of Letters idea goes to MagicalCatgirl68. It's been a long time coming, which honestly has probably just given me more time to create a whole different arc including the Men of Letters. Also, this story has officially broken 100,000 words, which is kind of awesome. When I started writing it I never thought it would get this far, so thank you for the motivation to keep writing it.
As always, unbeta-ed, sorry if I miss any errors.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Supernatural, or anything belonging to J.K. Rowling or Eric Kripke, I'm just using the characters for fun. I receive no money off of this story. Don't sue me.
.
.
Chapter 15: Hogsmeade
The sharp whistling of a kettle split the morning air in the back room of Tomes and Scrolls. The piercing noise continued, provoking a larger man settled into an even larger armchair to look up from his crossword, bushy mustache bristling as he stared pointedly at the door.
"Arthur!" A young man stumbled through the door separating the room from the rest of the shop, cheeks red and chest heaving.
"Sorry, sorry." He moved to make tea with the boiling water, setting down a cup in front of the larger man.
"What the bloody 'ell 'ave you been doin' then?"
"I was organizing the creatures section, Mr. Smith. Last weekend several students came in to find other texts covering magical creatures. Something about a biting book. Anyways, I figured if more students came in or owl-ordered, we should have the information more readily available." Arthur finished, nodding to himself proudly. Mr. Smith nodded with narrowed eyes.
"Alright. Good job then. Next time listen out for the kettle. I didja a favor, hiring a squib like yourself. You've gotta show me I did right." Arthur smiled one more time before ducking out of the room, moving to finish his morning checklist. He finished organizing the magical creatures section, then he dusted the main shelves, leaving the older shelves for after lunch. Around 11, he hopped out of the shop for a second, delivering an international owl-order to the post office up the street. After thanking the clerk with a bright smile, the 19 year old turned and headed back to work. Deciding to take a quick break, Arthur slid onto a bench by the road with his copy of the Daily Prophet, absently admiring the colors of the falling leaves. The man on the other side of the bench shifted, catching Arthur's attention.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Arthur asked. The man looked up.
"Oh, yes. But I always like to carry my umbrella. It's always good to be prepared."
"True enough." Arthur stood, finding his break drawing to a close. "Good day." It was several seconds after Arthur disappeared into the shop that the other man picked up the newspaper that Arthur had left behind. Instead of news, however, the paper held a short message in carefully printed handwriting.
Cover established.
The charm seems to be effective in warding off the effects of the anti-muggle spells. Work in the bookstore provides easy contact with students and occasionally teachers: The target is being tracked. Awaiting orders.
AK
The man on the bench folded the newspaper, calmly pocketing it. He rose from the bench, moving down the street past the window of Tomes and Scrolls, where the younger man could be seen fighting a losing battle with almost-sentient dust. He reached the floo station, throwing a handful of powder into the roaring flames, his destination unheard by the residents of Hogsmeade. Seconds later, the man walked into a large office, setting down the newspaper on an impressive looking desk. Mr. Frost looked up from his seat at the man, tilting his head questioningly.
"We're in."
.
.
It was Friday after the break-in and everyone was still talking about Sirius Black. The gossip chain hadn't latched onto some juicer piece of news, so the talk remained centered around one mass-murderer who was almost certainly aiming to kill Harry. Or at least, that's what all her teachers seemed to think. Every class over the past week had been filled with not-so-subtle glances in Harry's direction, or even worse, the pitying ones from Flitwick and Sprout. Malfoy was acting worse than ever, bolstered by the sympathy provided by his war-wound. Harry got herself through her desire to get rid of him with a constant stream of 'he's an asset, he's an asset, he's an asshole, he's-wait…'
She ran into Defense, having been held up by a still very precocious Oliver Wood. "Sorry Professor Lupin, I was-"
"Miss Potter. Hmm, class started ten minutes ago so I think it will be ten points from Gryffindor." Instead of Professor Lupin, Snape stared at her from the position behind the lecture stand.
"I would have been here ten minutes early if I knew you were teaching, Sir." Well, that wasn't the best thing she could've said. The sarcasm didn't do anything to lighten the mood. In fact, Hermione was staring at her from behind Snape's back, demanding that Harry just sit down and shut up.
"Five more points. Sit down, Potter, before I make it fifty." Harry hurried to sit, moving her foot so Hermione couldn't stomp on it under the desk. Ron moved to give her a fistbump. "Now, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any records as to how far the class has progressed-"
"Please sir, we've done Kappas, Boggarts, Grindylows, and-"
"Quiet. I was not asking for information, merely remarking upon Professor Lupin's poor system of organisation."
"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" Protested Dean Thomas.
"Sadly that may be true. However it only highlights the lack of skill in the prior holders of the position, not the competency of the present one." Harry had to admit that anyone would look good compared to Quirrell and Lockhart, but Snape's denial seemed to be more personal than logical. "Today we are going to be discussing werewolves." Harry sighed in relief. She knew all about those.
"But, sir," Hermione interrupted. "We're not due to start werewolves for another few months. We've only just started Hinkypunks-"
"Miss Granger, I am in control of the lesson, not you. Now, all of you, turn to page three hundred and ninety-four. Now!"
"Can any of you tell me how to distinguish between a wolf and a werewolf?" Snape asked. "Potter, since you seemed so unenthusiastic for this lesson that you showed up late, let us see if you know anything to make up for it."
"Well, a true wolf might kill someone and eat part of their body. A werewolf, when it has killed someone, will always eat the heart, no matter what else they eat. Their teeth and claws are much stronger than regular wolves as well, and they can hunt for much longer."
"No doubt whatever fantasy novel you are reading has an in-depth description of the features of a werewolf, but we are discussing real life. Now, anyone else?" Harry frowned. Was Snape going to reject a correct answer just because it came from her mouth? "Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between a wolf and a werewolf?" The lesson went on from there, but Harry was too busy trying to figure out what was wrong in her answer. All the texts she'd read at Bobby's, and before then even, listed those characteristics as part of what defined a werewolf. Granted, she'd only skimmed the magical version, but the differences couldn't be that extreme.
Now that she thought about it, there were some discrepancies between what she knew about vampires compared to what was recorded in her textbooks. Harry had put it down to publisher error, but maybe it was something bigger than that. It was possible that there were different versions of monsters, with the ones she'd encountered in America being the 'muggle' monsters, and those in the wizarding world being 'magical'. It would explain why the 'muggle' monsters had different advantages to make up for the lack of a distinctly magical component.
"Potter! Stop daydreaming and focus on the assigned reading. You will fail the essay if you are so completely wrong again." Harry snapped out of her thoughts, looking back to the pages in front of her, examining a picture of the werewolf transformation. She'd have to think more on her theory later.
She moved back to the passage. It seemed that the signs of a werewolf could be seen in human form for 'magical' werewolves, if she was to go with her theory. Premature aging, usually scar-ridden, weakened pallor around full moons. A werewolf will likely appear poorer and more downtrodden in human form due to the extreme prejudice that affects their everyday lives. Harry was starting to suspect there was something wrong with what Snape was trying to teach them. She glanced at Hermione, who was chewing her lip, a concentrated frown on her face. So she'd noticed something as well.
Harry wanted to say it was just Snape and his apparent hatred of Lupin that made him change the lesson plans, annoying his students and disrupting the course. Of course he'd take the chance while Lupin was sick-
Her train of thought crashed to a halt, and Harry had to work to keep a neutral expression on her face. Sick before and after the full moon. Lupin looked plenty poor and had plenty of scars. All of the pieces came together then, and Harry had to face the fact that one of her favorite teachers was a werewolf. As a hunter, she was disturbed that a werewolf would be allowed near children consistently. Then again, the Lupin she knew was practically harmless. When she had tea with him, he bumped into his desk and apologized to it. She didn't see how a man like that, who gave out chocolate to make his students feel better, could be a vicious monster, one she had been trained to kill.
It reminded her of when she had to defend herself to every hunter she met, claiming to be a natural born rather than the product of a demon deal. Harry supposed she could overlook the werewolf thing, as long as he was secured away from the general populace during full moons. As long as he wasn't a threat to the students, she would let it be. If anyone else found out, she was sure he'd be ousted from his job and sent away to find another way to live.
It did make her wonder what Lupin had done to deserve so much hate from Severus Snape.
.
.
Harry woke up early the next morning, torn from sleep by an incessant pawing at her ear. She shoved whatever was scratching her aside, turning over sleepily. Harry paused, then bolted upwards, looking around for the monster. A large orange blob with a face glared at her from its position atop the bundled up covers on the floor of the dormitory.
"What did you do that for?" Harry hissed. The cat stood, turning his head away deliberately, before sticking his tail in the air and trotting back to Hermione's bed. "Maybe you aren't a monster, but that was a dick move." Crookshanks seemed to smirk at Harry. The girl rolled her eyes, falling back onto her bed, huffing. "Well I'm not going back to sleep now. Might as well warm up."
Harry spent the next half hour jogging around the lake, shivering slightly in the crisp morning air. When the sun had almost broken the horizon, Harry's eyes caught a flash of black by the edge of the forest. She stopped, turning to look closer. Harry almost thought she saw a pair of eyes looking back at her, for a moment, but she blinked and they were gone.
"Miss Potter?" Harry jumped, spinning around and bringing her arms up. In front of her was Professor Corbyn, his hands stuffed into a pair of sweatpants. "What are you doing out here so early?" Harry recovered quickly, relaxing her pose.
"Jogging. I couldn't go back to sleep so I figured I'd warm up."
"Right, big game today? I'll always root for Ravenclaw, but I suppose Gryffindor can have my vote today." Harry smiled a little.
"Thanks."
"Well, I wouldn't want to hold you up. Good luck at the game." The Professor took off, jogging away from Harry. She was surprised. She didn't think that any of the professors, or any of the students even outside of Quidditch would exercise normally. Shrugging it off, Harry moved towards the castle entrance, sprinting the last couple yards before she cooled down doing stretches on the lawn.
After a shower, Harry headed towards the Great Hall, excited to stare at her breakfast and not eat any of it. At least she was as prepared as she could be for the game.
.
.
She was not as prepared as she could have been. Harry now realised that, sitting in the hospital bed while she cradled what remained of her Nimbus 2000. Bloody dementors.
"Where's Wood?" She asked, trying to distract herself.
"Still in the showers. We think he's trying to drown himself."
"Sounds fun."
.
.
Following the disastrous defeat of the Gryffindor team, Harry was anticipating the Patronus lessons even more. Unfortunately, she couldn't distract herself with that until after the break. So, she turned to an age old activity. Hunting.
On Sunday, she left Hermione and Ron to argue for a few hours while she popped into the woods near Hogsmeade. Harry set up the ritual, pricking her finger and dripping blood over the final layout. Several seconds later, an amused voice met her ears.
"Well, hello dear. Not that I'm complaining, but why did you feel the need to summon me to the middle of nowhere in Scotland?" Harry turned to Crowley.
"Remember how I said that I wouldn't mess with you if you didn't mess with me?"
"Not going to renege on our deal, are you?"
"No, I was just wondering if you wanted to sweeten it a little."
"You aren't really my type."
"Ha ha. I know I said that I didn't want to bring a bunch of demons down on my head after the last time, but I'm restless and I need to hunt something. So, got any competitors who I could feasibly exorcise? Or experiment on with a runes project? I think I've almost got a workable prototype."
"This experiment wouldn't happen to be a demon killing knife, would it?"
"It's unclear."
"I want an oath that you'll never harm me with it."
"As long as you promise to send me hunts every now and then."
"Deal."
"Deal. Alright, so who can I go try it out on right now?"
"There's a demon named Layla." Harry gave him a questioning look. "Not the most intimidating name for a demon, but neither is Meg, and Layla's one of her lackeys. She might've even been part of that chase you mentioned."
"Interesting. Thanks."
"Just remember not to draw this back to me." With that, he disappeared. Harry started up another ritual, first making sure there was a devil's trap in place in front of her, and three more scattered around the clearing.
.
.
Around the same time a certain witch was experimenting with a certain knife, the sensors in Hogsmeade started chirping. Arthur Ketch sat up in his chair, putting down the book he had been reading during lunch. He pulled out a pocket watch, a frown creasing his face at the strange readings. There were energy fluctuations somewhere nearby. He stood up, looking around for anything suspicious. The street was just as quiet as usual, nothing standing out to the junior agent.
Arthur moved down the street, glancing down at the pocket watch subtly, checking for a change in the readings. The closer he got to the woods, the stronger the fluctuations were. He crossed into the woods, walking for several minutes before his eyes caught on something a couple hundred feet in front of him. There was a small clearing up ahead, with what looked like a woman tied to a chair in the middle of it. Standing in front of her with their back to Arthur was a smaller figure with dark hair, their hand holding a glinting dagger by their side. The strangest part was the black smoke seeping out of what looked to be a stab wound in the sitting woman's shoulder. She gave another cry as a large amount of smoke was pushed out of the wound, coinciding with a jump on Ketch's pocket watch. The woman seemed to be screaming, but he couldn't hear any sound.
Even with the apparent barrier, Ketch could see when the demon in the chair was exorcised, thick black smoke now streaming out of her mouth as well as her shoulder. The now unpossessed woman's head fell to the side, her eyes empty. It seemed that the host was dead. Ketch's attention was again caught by the smaller figure, black robes sweeping the ground when she flicked her wrist and the dagger winked away. Then, with a twirl of their cloak, the figure was gone, accompanied by a huge spike in power recorded on Ketch's watch. He walked forward to inspect the dead woman, mind whirring as he tried to figure out what was going on. One thing was clear, the boss' suspicions about the accidents around Hogwarts were at least partly deserved. He had something to report.
.
.
Harry was in a better mood after her knife seemed to have been improved. It caused a sort of gradual depletion of the demon's energy, which was a good jump from where it had been as just a torture knife. It was enough to bolster her spirits until the news that Ravenclaw had flattened Hufflepuff gave her hope for the Quidditch cup.
When McGonagall came around to take down the names of who was staying at Hogwarts, Harry happily recorded hers, still pleased by the Quidditch situation. Apart from the search for a new broom, that is. Herimione didn't understand why she was so broken up about it, but she didn't push the issue. The smarter witch was already tied up enough with her coursework and the case of Buckbeak, she didn't need to add a ranting Harry on top of it.
The day before the end of term, there was another Hogsmeade visit. This time Harry avoided Professor Lupin easily, and was moving towards a storage closet where she could apparate to the edge of the woods that she'd visited the other day, her invisibility cloak stored safely in her enlarged pockets. Before she could grab the doorknob, two sets of hands came down on her shoulders and spun her around. As she spun, she kicked one foot around, nailing George Weasley in the side. He let out a surprised and pained groan, falling into Fred, the red-heads crashing to the floor in a pile of gangly limbs.
"Harry!"
"Ow."
"What was that for?"
"I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Oops. Sorry guys." She crossed her arms and grabbed a hand from each twin, leaning backwards and helping them up.
"That's alright."
"You know, I think we should send Percy to interrupt you."
"He walks quietly."
"In a quiet arrogance way, maybe."
"But imagine his face-"
"When he goes to tap your shoulder-"
"And then he's on the ground-"
"Priceless!" They both ended together, and Harry rolled her eyes at the familiar Weasley babble.
"Is there a reason you had to sneak up on me?"
"Oh, right." They straightened themselves up. "Harry dear, we've come to a decision."
"You're probably the third most mischievous person at this school-"
"Not counting Lee, he'd be upset with us!"
"But he'd be fine with it, seeing as she talks with Loki!"
"Right, right, continue." George shoved a thumb at Fred, as if to say 'This guy, am I right?'
"So, we've decided to pass on something, mischief makers to mischief maker."
"It's almost an heirloom for the prank-inclined."
"And while you'll probably never reach our level-"
"Our pranks being legendary and mythical-"
"This could help you out of your current predicament and future ones."
"Get to the bloody point already!" Harry interrupted. She was getting a headache from all the back and forth, and there was the beginning of a crick in her neck. The twins flourished their hands and from behind one of their backs, she couldn't tell, came a large piece of parchment. They grinned at her. "Is this whole thing a joke? I swear I will kick you again, both of you."
"Not a joke. This is serious-"
"Humorous-"
"And fantastic. Harriet Potter, it's our pleasure to present you with one of our tools, a premium trick of the trade as it were."
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Fred touched the tip of his wand on the page, and ink bled out from the point, forming words.
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
Are Proud to Present
The Marauders Map
Harry tilted her heads in curiosity, then in astonishment as Fred and George unfolded the map to reveal hundreds of little dots moving around the page, each with an attached name.
"Is this-"
"The recorded movements of everyone in the castle?"
"Why yes it is." Harry grinned up at the twins, who in turn couldn't keep their mysterious expressions and began to smile. "And now it's yours."
"I would have thought that you wouldn't give up such a priceless artifact."
"Don't get us wrong, we'd love to borrow it every now and then-"
"But we believe we've outgrown most of its uses. For example." George tapped the statue of a one eyed witch. "This had an entrance to a passageway to Honeydukes."
"A lot of the other ones aren't usable. Filch knows about these, and these are caved in or blocked some other way," Fred explained, tapping each spot. "Oh, and to clear the map, say 'Mischief Managed'."
"Otherwise anyone could read it." Harry grinned again. She had an alibi as to how she got to Hogsmeade now. She'd planned on acting mysterious around Ron and Hermione, which usually worked, but now she could explain it.
"This is an amazing Christmas Present."
"Then Happy Christmas, Miss Potter," The twins said in unison.
"I think you'll have a happy Christmas yourself, Mr.'s Weasley." She smirked at them, then moved towards the statue, giving the password the map spelled out.
After sliding into the tunnel, Harry apparated to the woods outside Hogsmeade. Her invisibility cloak was cool to the touch, and she held it away from her already cold nose. Casting a spell so that her footsteps would be covered as she walked, Harry trudged out of the woods. She was glad her boots were waterproof when she reached the village five minutes later. The deep snow thinned into a manageable layer along the streets of the village. She headed towards the street housing Honeydukes and Zonkos, sure that Ron and Hermione would be in that vicinity.
.
.
Arthur Ketch was unpacking crates of books that they had just shipped in, organizing them into piles so the emptying shelves could easily be replaced. He picked up a heavy tome full of charms and different techniques to practice to strengthen one's skills, when his pocket warmed, an alarm going off. He dropped the book, groaning as the edges hit his thigh. He drew out the magical energy detector, its pocket watch facade gleaming as it alerted its owner. There had just been another sharp spike in energy, but it had stopped almost immediately.
He looked around the room, stacks of books needing to be unpacked staring back at him. He frowned and put the watch back in his pocket, moving upstairs to trade places with Bert, opting to take his place at the front desk. Bert took the offer, sprinting into the back room to avoid interacting with the teenagers. Arthur rolled his eyes, settling into his position with his pocket watch, ready to find out if the readings were coming from an occupant of Hogwarts.
.
.
Harry had enjoyed scaring Hermione and Ron in Honeydukes. She broke off another piece of chocolate, muchning happily under the invisibility cloak as Ron and Hermione pushed their way through the crowds. The trio found themselves settling into a booth at the Three Broomsticks, Ron off to flirt with Madam Rosmerta. Hermione frowned.
"Hermione, I doubt Rosmerta's gonna respond to a thirteen year old."
"It's the principle of the thing!" Hermione responded. Harry shrugged, accepting the butterbeer that Ron brought with him. She looked around the pub, watching the groups of students as Ron and Hermione finished another one of their arguments. She rolled her eyes at Pansy Parkinson as she leaned into Malfoy. She thought he might come over to her way of thinking simply to escape the girl. She made a note to explore that some other time.
Harry observed some other students enter the pub, pulling mittens off and fixing their hair after taking off their hats. Hagrid pulled off an absolute monstrosity of a scarf, a ten foot long knitted wool fabric. Harry did a double take and choked as she saw a group of teachers including Hagrid and Cornelius Fudge enter the pub. Hermione noticed as well, shoving Harry below the table and dragging the cloak back over her. A christmas tree levitated a few feet in front of their table, blocking the occupants from view. What followed was a conversation that probably wasn't best to be overheard while one crouches next to a prickly Christmas tree.
"Black was Harriet Potter's godfather?!" Harry recognized the voice of Professor Corbyn. "That's dreadful."
"It's not just that, the Potters were in hiding using the Fidelius charm, and Sirius Black was their secret keeper. He betrayed them to You-Know-Who."
"We thought there was someone close to the Potters that had been passing over information. And then Black got tired of his role as a double agent, and sold out his best friends and his goddaughter." McGonagall sounded furious.
"At least he was caught by the Aurors before he could do anything worse."
"The thing is, Corbyn, he wasn't. Little Peter Pettigrew went after him all by himself. He used to worship those boys, and then Black blew him apart in the middle of the street. He killed 12 muggles, and all that was left of Pettigrew was a finger. All with one curse."
"And now he's after Harriet Potter."
"Correct. It's all so terrible." Harry stared blankly as she watched the feet of the gossips exit the pub a little while later.
"Harry?" Ron and Hermione were looking under the table in her direction, lost looks on their faces. Harry climbed up slowly, pulling off the cloak, her now cold butterbeer gripped tightly in her hands.
"I'm going to go… I'm going to get some air," She said lightly, placing the mug on the counter and sliding out of her seat. Ron and Hermione, sensing danger, quickly moved to follow her.
"Harry, stop!" Hermione panted. Harry had taken off running as soon as she cleared the doors, shrugging on her cloak. She waved her hand to clear her tracks, still running, eyes searching desperately for somewhere to hide. She burst into a bookshop to her right, turning and watching Ron and Hermione jog past. Harry moved into the shop, finding a sofa in the back to sink down on. She pulled off the cloak and let her head drop against the wall, the thunk not even registering as she tried to think through everything she'd just learned.
Sirius Black was her godfather. He'd given away her location to Voldemort, leading to the deaths of her parents, then killed their other friend as well as a crowd of muggles with a single curse, leaving only a finger. He blew up 13 people, and the only thing left was a finger. Harry's brain was stuck on that detail for some reason, and she took some deep breaths in order to calm down enough to work through it.
"Excuse me," a voice interrupted her. Harry looked up, and was surprised to see a man sitting in a chair to her left. "Are you alright?" Harry swallowed, nodding.
"Fine." Her voice didn't break. She was proud of that, at least.
"That's an interesting cloak you've got." Harry nodded. "Are you sure you're-" He stopped, frowning at something in his pocket. He pulled out a pocket watch, glancing at it in confusion, before looking back up at her. "Sorry," he smiled self deprecatingly. "Must have forgotten the time. My break is over." He stood up. "But if you want there are some more comfortable couches up front."
Harry shook her head, watching as the man stood up and moved towards the front of the store where the counter was. She went back to focusing on her breathing, processing everything.
.
.
Arthur couldn't believe it. The watch had warmed again, sporadically, like little heat flashes. And it got weaker as he walked away from the girl on the couch. She must have been causing the energy spikes. Now that he thought about it, she looked about the same height as the figure from the clearing, and her hair was the same. He wouldn't have expected a teenage girl to be the one exorcising the demon, but behind the wire framed glasses he could see a spark of danger in her emerald green eyes.
He moved to the front of the shop, observing the power readings. They were bouncing slightly, moving up and down sporadically in smaller amounts. Arthur was distracted when Bert asked from behind him if they had any more translations of the Derricks potions text, and was surprised when Bert trailed off, jaw dropping. He turned around, watching as the girl stormed through the doors with a half-shout of "A finger!"
"What?" Arthur asked. Bert looked at him like he was stupid.
"That was Harriet Potter! The Girl-Who-Lived!" Ketch nodded, remembering her from the briefing. Then it occurred to him that the Girl-Who-Lived was a lot more powerful than they had expected, and obviously involved in hunting or something like it. Perhaps she could be useful. He'd have to bring it up to his superiors.
He winced again when a rather hot flash came through his watch, and he supposed she'd left Hogsmeade.
.
.
Harry stumbled through the entrance to the tunnel, the map making it clear that there was no one nearby who would catch her exiting the witch's hump. She wiped the map, moving towards the library. What kind of spell wipes out 12 muggles, and so completely destroys a man that the only thing left is a finger. If the rest of Pettigrew was pink mist, there shouldn't have been a way for a whole finger to remain behind, untouched. She wasn't sure how that helped her deal with the news about Black, but it was something for her to focus on and research, and Harry would take what she could at the moment.
Of course, right before she reached the library, another thing occurred to her. Loki had known. He had to have, he'd said that he knew something was happening this year, and he couldn't tell her because it would hurt her. That dick! Harry changed courses, moving towards an alcove so she could disappear. She reappeared in the Forbidden Forest, pulling out her ritual kit. A couple minutes later, and she had finished the final move to summon Loki. A confused pagan appeared in front of her, catching the chocolate bar that she lobbed at him angrily.
"Okay, what's wrong? Is this chocolate poisoned?" Loki asked.
"No, but it should be. You are such an asshole! 'There's things going on at Hogwarts, but I can't tell you'. Come on! It was that Sirius Black was my godfather?! You couldn't have let me know before that? I had to find out while stuck under a table watching the shoes of my teachers as they gossiped about the circumstances of my parents death, the thing that screwed up a lot of my life?! What the hell!" She screamed in frustration. Loki looked ashamed, his hands fidgeting with the wrapper of the chocolate.
"Look, I thought you wouldn't find out-"
"Mmm."
"And it would have been better if you hadn't found out. That shit's messed up."
"Right. So I should be thanking you for your consideration."
"No! Sorry, that came out wrong." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I thought I was protecting you."
"I don't need your protection. Everyone keeps trying to protect me, and it always seems to harm me instead. Dobby, Dumbledore, and now you. I thought you were better than this." Harry scoffed, turning away in her anger.
"I'm sorry." Loki did sound genuinely apologetic. Harry wasn't ready to forgive yet, but she did have a question. She turned back around, clenching her teeth.
"If you really want to make it up to me, help me out with this. What sort of spell kills 12 muggles, obliterating their bodies, as well as the body of a wizard at the epicenter of the attack, yet leaves an entire finger on the ground, whole and un-exploded?" Harry stared at Loki as his face took on a thinking expression.
"Nothing that I know of. I've encountered things that could blow someone up into pieces so small that it's just mist. But I don't know what would do that but leave behind a finger."
"So you're no help."
"Ouch."
"Deal with it, I'm still mad."
"I could go back and find out?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'll go back to when it happened and find out."
"You can travel back in time?"
"Does this mean you forgive me?"
"Not yet." She paused. "You probably can't change anything, right? It's all 'fixed points'?"
"Right."
"Oh. Okay, well see you."
"Be right back." Then, Loki winked out of existence. A few seconds later, he came back, looking extremely disturbed. His eyes flicked back and forth, and he brought up a hand to rub at the back of his neck nervously.
"What?"
"Okay, good news, I know what happened. Bad news…"
"What is it?"
"Well, the wizarding world messed up big. I mean huge. There was a spell that blew up all those muggles, but Sirius Black didn't cast it."
"What?!"
"Yah. Peter Pettigrew did, and then he cut off his finger and disappeared." Harry was speechless. "I could try and go back again? ISometime soon, it's a little draining. Maybe not the same spot, that sort of weakens the timeline."
"Like Doctor Who," Harry mumbled weakly.
"Yep, like Doctor Who." He chuckled. "Nerd."
"Shut up, I'm in shock."
"This is messed up."
"So messed up." Loki gave Harry a quick hug, before stepping backwards.
"I'm going to try and figure out more of what happened, give me a few days to charge up again and I'll come back here and we can decide how to do this."
"Okay." Harry was very much on autopilot, waving goodbye before walking back to the castle. She was unclear as to how she made it back to the common room without running into anyone or falling off a staircase. All she remembered was falling into bed and staring at the fabric draped above her across her four-poster, contemplating everything. The last thing she heard was Hermione's relieved sigh as she came into the room later, pretending to be asleep to avoid a confrontation.
Why did Peter Pettigrew cast the curse? Was he trying to kill Sirius Black for a betrayal? But then why would he fake his death? Harry clenched her eyes shut tight, trying to ward off her frustration headache. The most disturbing thought she could think of was that if the world had been wrong about who cast the spell, was it possible they were wrong about who was guilty altogether?
.
.
Mr. Heller: That's actually very interesting, and I hadn't thought of it. I really like what I could do with that in the future, especially after she starts hunting the horcruxes and comes to similar conclusions.
Goldenfightergirl: I was considering developing shtrigas to be similar to dementors, and that's definitely something that Harry will think if she hunts one, but I considered them more of a branch of a demonlike wendigo. A wendigo is basically a rougarou that feeds on people until they become so dark they become the wendigo, and I figured that was something similar with the shtriga. They're like that because of how many souls they've fed on. I might include something about dementors being related to shtrigas who continue to feed on souls and become so ark they morph into a dementor, but I have a different idea to develop as a main plot point that will be revealed later.
MagicalCatgirl68: I did consider having her run into Jody Mills during the chapter where she met Loki, but I didn't want to deal with the timelines and include another character when she was already being introduced to a new one. I think I'll probably include her in a later chapter though. Ron and Hermione will find out the truth. Eventually. Also, the hellhound idea is a good one. I might use it. You know the drill, harass me until I give credit.
Meep: The plan is a long one, but ultimately I think it boils down to her being scared that Dumbledore will find out that she's been on her own all these years. She's afraid of him, deep down, especially considering what he could do to put her back with the Dursleys or manipualte her mind to fit his purposes like he tried to originally. I'm sure it has other benefits, but her main goal is to stay under his radar. As for what's going on with Malfoy, I know some defining moments are gonna happen this year, so stay tuned. You saw how the first Hogsmeade chapter went, but there's plenty of time for shenanigans in the future. Also I can genuinely say that I snorted when I imagined the Dursleys being invited to Hogwarts for the champions family day, and them just panicking. Or them being apparated in as a surprise and they're just standing their awkwardly while Harry tries not to kill anyone or give away anything. And that is a good saying, it pretty much sums up a lot of her personality. As for the bubbling black stuff, spoilers. She knows exactly what it is, she just doesn't know what it means exactly. Honestly I've been meaning to fix the whole glasses thing, especially since they're kind of a terrible idea for someone who regularly gets in life threatening danger. I just haven't found an exact point to put it in, and at this point I'll probably wait until she gets into a larger danger, where she's like alright these have to go.
Jedi SteelWolf: You have a good point about Trelawney, but I imagine that Harry would stick it out for at least a year to see what exactly happens in the class. There's also some stubborness to continue in the class despite the shortcomings.