A/N So there have been some internet-related problems where I live, so this upload is a little late, but it is a very long chapter to make up for it. 11,000 words, I think. And this isn't the last chapter of third year, sorry, but I didn't want a 15,000 word chapter. I'm almost entirely sure the next chapter should be the end of third year.
Also, if I didn't respond to a question you commented, I probably didn't get the notification, internet problems and all. I'll respond with the next post.
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.
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Chapter 16: An Offer
The next morning, Harry woke up feeling as if she'd been run over by a truck. Physically, she was alright, apart from the bruises she'd obtained from shoving her way through the crowd and abusing Loki, but there was a pounding inside her head that only added to her irritable mood. She headed down to the common room after finding no one in the dormitory, content to sit in front of the fire and act like she was plotting a murder.
"Harry?" The witch leveled her gaze at a nervous Ron, who was standing with Hermione next to her chair. "Are you alright?" Harry almost snorted at that question.
"Am I alright?" She asked, leaning back in her chair. After she'd had some time to process what she'd learned, she'd come to the conclusion that she didn't know what was going on, but that she was incredibly angry at someone. "Well, let's go down the list, shall we? First, I come back to school and my life is derailed, once again, by a murderous psychopath who wants me dead. Then, that psychopath turns out to be my godfather, and also a traitor who led Voldemort to my parents in the first place. Oh, and then I find out that he might not even be a traitor because he didn't cast that spell to kill the muggles, Pettigrew did, and then he disappeared." Harry could see their shocked faces, but she was on a roll now.
"Do you know what I see when the dementors get near me? What I hear?" She asked. Ron and Hermione shook their heads hesitantly. "I get to relive my worst memories, almost all of which are directly related to Voldemort and how he's screwed up my life because of Sirius Black. I get to hear my mom scream right before she's murdered. And that flash of green light that I've had dreams about my whole life? Turns out that's the curse that Voldemort used to kill her. But you wouldn't know that, seeing as no one else is as traumatised as I am, and the world just fucking hates me. So no, I'm not alright." She was standing now, pacing back and forty and gesticulating angrily. I don't know what the hell is going on, or who's actually to blame, but one thing is for sure. Someone is going to die."
"Harry, I-"
"Spare me the pity, Hermione, I don't want it."
"Harriet Rose Potter, sit down right now and listen to me!" Harry looked up and saw Hermione with her hands on her hips, nodding towards the chair. Ron looked a bit thrown as well. Harry sat heavily in the chair, glowering. "That's terrible. It's terrible what's happened to you, but you don't get to use it as a reason to get yourself killed!"
"Hermione-"
"No! I know you're going to say that you're capable, and I know that you're probably capable of more than what we know, but what you're not capable of right now is taking on a fully grown, possibly homicidal, escaped convict in order to avenge some vendetta."
"I've fought Voldemort and won! A few times now, actually."
"Yes, Harry, you've fought Voldemort as a shade, and as a teenager, and Merlin knows there's things about those fights you aren't telling us. But even if I believed you were able to defeat five of Sirius Black at the same time, it still wouldn't be a good idea, and we still wouldn't let you, because we don't want you sinking to their level. There is vengeance, and then there's justice. Let the Dementors take care of it."
"Don't you see, Hermione? The Dementors aren't going to take care of it! Black's been loose for months! And even if they wwe able to track him down and lock him up again, what about Pettigrew? Something here doesn't fit, and I'm not going to rest until I know what actually happened."
"And we'll be there with you, Harry, but don't go chasing after something that'll only end badly." Ron stepped forward, placing his hand on her shoulder, Hermione mirroring him. "Don't be a murderer just like him." Though she accepted their support then, some part of Harry cringed away from the contact with the knowledge that she'd killed before, and she would again.
"How'd you find out about Pettigrew anyway?" Hermione asked once it was clear that she'd calmed down.
"I have my sources. Where is everyone?" She looked around, glad that the common room was empty after her tirade.
"It's the first day of break. We're the only ones here."
"Oh."
"So how are we going to find out what happened? What actually happened, with Black and Pettigrew?" Hermione asked, the consummate analyzer. Harry thought for a moment.
"Malfoy knows."
"What?"
"Malfoy knows. He told me that if it were him, he'd want revenge."
"Harry, I know you have a thing about getting Malfoy to… defect, but I really don't see how that helps anything."
"We can get some information from him."
"I am not making more Polyjuice. You didn't get anything useful the first time anyway."
"Oh, Hermione. There are other ways of getting information."
"Torture?!" Ron piped up incredulously. Hermione whipped her head around to stare back at Harry accusingly. Harry gave him a look.
"What? No! I'm going to talk to him or bribe him." She paused. "Did you really think I was going to torture him?" Ron looked away suddenly.
"Hey, let's go visit Hagrid's, we haven;t done that in a while." Harry saw the blatant change in subject, and raised him one.
"Yah, let's do that, we can ask why he never told me about my psychopath of a godfather," She said brightly, hopping up and moving towards the portrait. Hermione wacked Ron on the arm.
"Or we could-"
"No, let's go to Hagrid's."
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Draco Malfoy was usually happy to be home for the holidays. The break allowed him to see his mother and possibly his father, depending on what business was happening at the Ministry. He was especially excited because he knew that the treats that his mother usually sent by owl would be available in larger amounts with just the call of a house elf.
That evening, he was content as his mother and father were there for dinner, and he happily told them about his term so far, his words aimed more so at his mother than his father, who was going through a stack of official looking parchment.
"-And my arm is all healed, so I'm sure the next quidditch match will go our way."
"It had better. Those brooms were a donation to ensure superiority, but it seems that last year the only reason you weren't beaten by Gryffindor was because the cup was cancelled altogether."
"Well, Potter is an alright seeker, I suppose, and she had a Nimbus 2000, or crashed into the Whomping Willow. It's a good thing I wasn't able to play for that game, the conditions were terrible."
"You should be able to outplay that halfblood no matter what amount of skill she supposedly possesses. And speaking of your injury, that beast is going to be put down. I just received the letter." Lucius Malfoy handed his son a crisp piece of parchment, and Draco read over it quickly.
Malfoy,
The department 's just sent the oaf a letter about the bird's hearing. I wouldn't be worried, though, it's all but gone for. Even if there was considerable doubt, there's no chance the beast's gettin' off. Does good to have some influence in the matter, doesn't it?
-Macnair
Draco set down the letter carefully, nodding at his father. He'd known that there was a strong possibility that the hippogriff would be executed, especially after the fuss he'd made. But somehow, seeing the confirmation on paper was jarring. And the confirmation that it would be killed no matter what didn't sit right with him.
He pushed away the unsettled feeling, going back to his conversation. The rest of the night, though, he couldn't shake the unbalanced feeling in his chest and stomach. Was it guilt? Draco shook off such incredible notions, and moved to go to bed. Before he could climb under the duvet, there was a knock at his window. He opened it to find a brilliant snowy owl perched there, leg held out impatiently towards him. He removed the latter and fed the owl a treat from his own supply when the bird hooters expectantly, then moved towards his desk after shutting the window again. Somehow he was less surprised than he saw who had written him.
Malfoy,
I'm going to cut to the chase here, and don't you dare throw this away before you read it. We both know that your little injury was never that serious, and you've been playing off it all term. You owe me for the quidditch match, that could've easily been you, but I didn't officially challenge your claims of injury, and neither did my team. And this whole business with Buckbeak is screwed up anyhow. I'm assuming you know about the hearing, and you know just as well as I do that that hearing is going to be a sham. Walden Macnair is an associate of your father, who has enough power to bypass any true form of justice for Buckbeak. So you owe me.
You said that if it were you, you would want revenge. I know about Sirius Black now, so I understand what you meant. But I'm going to cash in on that favor you owe me. I need you to ask around, with your father or whoever, and find out what happened to Peter Pettigrew. I know the story about the finger, but I want more than that. Who was he friends with, where did he hang out, what sort of person was he? Same with Black.
Don't draw attention to the issue though. And if you don't try at least a little bit, I'll know, and I'll take that want for revenge that you mentioned earlier, and I'll direct it towards you. So, you have the carrot and the stick, now work.
-Potter
Draco was all sorts of confused after reading through the letter. He could understand wanting to know more about Black, but Pettigrew? He barely even knew who that was, and it was only because he'd overheard his father talking about the "finger in a box" story at a dinner party one night. What Draco didn't notice was that he didn't have strong feelings against helping Potter. IN fact, when he put his quill against a blank bit of parchment and began taking notes on what he remembered about the two men, that heavy feeling in his chest seemed to lighten a little.
A few hours later, Harriet Potter smirked as she received an eagle owl with a short scroll of parchment attached, bringing some new information and a somewhat reluctant promise for more.
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It was Christmas morning, byt Harry was most definitely not feeling the energy of the holiday.
"Harry, get up!" Hermione hit her prone form with a pillow, and Harry groaned, turning and burrowing into her covers further.
"Hermione! 'S too cold. Go away."
"Harry Potter get out of your bed! Even Ron is up before you!" She yanked the covers away from the younger witch, tilting her head at the girl. "You're usually awake earlier than I am, what's wrong?" Harry huffed and sat up, pulling on a robe and climbing out of bed.
"I stayed up recording notes about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Malfoy sent me another letter, turns out that Pettigrew was a few years younger than his dad, and they were at Hogwarts for some overlapping years. And you know how he was in the same year as my parents and Sirius Black?"
"Mmhmm."
"Get this, so was Snape! I mean I knew my Dad supposedly saved his life, or that's what Dumbledore said, but they were in the same year."
"Snape's only thirty-three?"
"That's not the point to focus on, but yes. Anyway, he says he's working on learning more."
"You know, you said that Malfoy was going to be better one day, but I don't think I actually believed you."
"He's not actually 'on our side', so to say, it's more of a combination of blackmail and manipulation. But this is certainly a step in the right direction." They opened the door to Ron's dormitory, their pile of presents in hand, and popped down across from the redhead, who was sorting gifts into different piles.
"What'd you get?" Ron looked at his unopened packages and sighed.
"Well I think this one is the sweater, and this is the pie. I don't know what you got me though." He picked up the package and shook it, the box making a clicking sound. He and Hermione opened identical packages, pulling out charm bracelets. "You got me jewelry?"
"No, well sort of. Let me explain." She took a deep breath. Harry had finally decided to tell them the truth. This had been coming for a while now, but she was still incredibly nervous, as well as surprised she'd actually sent them the gifts. "So you know how you said that you thought I was hiding something from you guys?" Hermione nodded while Ron looked vaguely apologetic. "Well, you were right. I just have some issues with trust, so it's taken a bit for me to tell you this, but I think I'm ready now.
"So when my parents were killed, Dumbledore dropped me off with my aunt and uncle, the Dursleys. I've been telling you guys that I go back there every summer, but that's not true."
"What?"
"Shhh, I'm trying to tell the story. Anyway, they… weren't very good people. When I was six, they tried to get rid of me, just left me in the woods after roughing me up a little. I was scared, but I thought I could maybe get out of it if I walked back the way I came. I never really got the chance, because, and I'm not going to say the name because that supposedly attracts it to your location, especially in the winter, but a monster grabbed me before I could get up."
"Harry!"
"That's terrible, mate."
"Yah, well, I haven't even really gotten started. So this monster is a sort of cannibal, it likes to eat people-"
"I've never read about a cannibalistic-"
"Hermione, stay on track here, I'll explain everything. Just trust me for a couple minutes. So it tried to bite my arm, well it did bite my arm, and somehow I propelled it back with a blast of fire. I think it was accidental magic. But then I heard some rustling outside, and I thought it was maybe another one, and suddenly I was in the middle of a field in the US." Ron and Hermione had shocked looks on their faces, if a bit skeptical. Harry pulled back her sleeve to show them the faded teeth marks.
"Bloody hell." Ron sounded faint.
"I lived on the streets for a while. I made myself a treehouse, and accidental magic seemed to get easier after that first conscious time, so I used it a lot to get by. I went to the library a lot, and that's when I found out what attacked me. There were a lot of other monsters in that book too, and somehow I made a decision to keep fighting them." Harry kept them there for maybe half an hour explaining her first couple hunts, and the connections she made. They were a little incredulous at the notion of demons, but malicious ghosts weren't too far of a stretch.
"Peeves is halfway there anyway. Why don't you get rid of him too?"
"He sort of grows on you. Binns was just unhelpful in every way."
"Wait, that was you?!" It seemed they had finally been caught up on everything, and Hermione of course had some strong opinions.
"Harry, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't do that!"
"Yes he would, Hermione, he's a manipulative bastard!"
"Harry, it's terrible what happened to you as a kid, and I'm mad at him for making it possible, but you can't think that he's so invested in your life that he's trying to manipulate every single thing. Think about all the impossible things you've done over the years, if he were that invested, you don't think he'd already know you weren't still with the Dursley's?"
"I've been on the down low, he doesn't know anything."
"Harry, the entire school knows you're a bit different. We may get the more truthful version of events, but since you've come to this school, everything's been out of whack, and watching you perform actually impossible things has spread around. If Professor Dumbledore was actually that invested, and that diabolical, he would already know that you've left the Dursleys and he would wipe your memory and put you back with them, according to your version of events. It may be that he's done some terrible things and made some bad decisions for whatever reason, but he's not inherently evil and I think you know that."
"Why do you always have to make sense and look at things logically?"
"Oh, I'm plenty emotional, but that doesn't mean that I have to go off the rails and make incorrect conclusions."
"Wow. Thanks."
"Anytime."
"So what are the bracelets for then?" Ron interrupted.
"Well, they have anti-possession charms and some other sigils. And if you pull at knife charm, it transforms into an actual silver knife that can harm shapeshifters and a lot of other monsters. The same goes for the shotgun charms."
"Harry, we can't have guns!"
"You want me to wear a charm bracelet?"
"Hermione, the guns are filled with reloading salt. They're for malicious ghosts and maybe Peeves if you're having a bad day. Actually, that's a terrible idea, let's just say they're only for emergencies and there isn't actually a rule against them being carried as charms. And Ron, it's got a spell on it that stops others from looking at it. So yes, wear it. In addition to the protective properties, you'll look very charming."
"That was a terrible pun."
"I think it was amazing."
"So there are actually demons in the world? As in 'Hell' demons?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Yep. Although, I don't think they're such a big thing in Britain. It might be because of the concentrated magical community, because it turns out there are differences between magical and muggle monsters."
"That's why you messed up in defense!"
"Demons. Being your friend is bloody terrifying, you know? If I'm not killed by whatever follows you, I'll be murdered by you or Hermione. Bloody hell." Ron crashed back onto his bed, his charm bracelet gleaming on his left wrist. "I'm going to need more explaining tomorrow when I wake up and think this is a fever dream."
"Sure can do."
"Now open your other presents." Harry unwrapped her customary Weasley sweater, some fudge, a book from Hagrid, another book from Hermione, some Zonko's goods from the twins, some Belgian chocolate from who she was pretty sure was Loki. There was a name inside a card signed by Crowley, making her smirk at the chance for another hunt. Ron got her some candy, and the gifts from Bobby and the Winchesters were still in America to be given in July. That left one long, rectangular package that she'd brought in with the rest of the pile.
"Who's that from?" Ron asked.
"No idea." That turned out to be a problem, as inside the package was a brand new Firebolt. Hermione, of course, wanted to involve a professor. "Hermione, if it were cursed, I'd know. I'm kind of awesome like that."
"Just because you're some kind of big shot 'hunter' doesn't mean you can recognize intricate curses on sight. It could be dangerous!"
"I really think that you're overreacting."
"I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall. Just let her sweep it for hexes, you almost died the last time."
"I had the situation in hand," Harry defended.
"I had to set Snape on fire."
"And I was so proud of you."
"I'm telling Professor McGonagall." Harry could stop her, but she'd just laid out everything to them, and she knew Hermione was only trying to help. She held the broom close, breathing in the smell of the fresh polish.
"Goodbye, my darling." McGonagall looked almost torn between taking the broom and letting her keep it despite the risk in order to increase the Gryffindor's chances of winning the next quidditch match. Ron was pouting behind her, staring at the broom as it was given away. Maybe the three of them would have avoided any confrontation, but a few days later Ron found blood on his sheets along with some orange cat hairs.
"He murdered Scabbers!"
"Ron-"
"Your cat is a murderer! Still think it isn't a monster?!" Ron was in true form, face as red as his hair as he yelled at Hermione from across the common room.
"Ron, I'm sorry about Scabbers." Harry held her breath, thinking maybe they could get through this without any major issues. "But Crookshanks is a cat, and he was a rat, it's only natural!" Dammit.
"You're still defending it?"
"He did nothing wrong!"
"Unbelievable!"
"You're being ridiculous."
"Maybe we should all calm down?" Budged in Harry. The two of them just continued on, as though she wasn't here. "Had to try."
The next couple weeks were tense, to say the least. Ron and Hermione were completely ignoring each other, and when that slipped, it was only to glare or mutter a hateful comment. Harry tried not to take sides, as she could both of their points, but the constant running back and forth and the hanging out with one while trying not to notice the staring of the other was pulling at her. She found that she was anticipating the Patronus lessons more, as it would allow her to escape from the common room for a few hours. She just hoped she wouldn't come back to Ron's dead body and a gleeful Hermione.
After the lesson, Harry felt just the same, just more drained for having faced the fake dementor and forcing herself to favor the dementor as her worst fear in the first place. It'd never happened to her before, where she couldn't succeed at a spell almost immediately. It jarred her.
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The next couple weeks were filled by juggling friendships and avoiding Oliver Wood as he tried to discuss her broom every second that he wasn't running the odds of Slytherin beating Ravenclaw. When the Snakes did beat out the Eagles, Harry watched as Oliver jumped in the air high enough that he almost fell over the side of the walls separating the spectators from the Quidditch pitch.
With the extra cheer from the knowledge that Gryffindor still had a chance at the cup, Harry was mildly confident she might make some more headway in her Patronus charm. When she still failed to produce something more than wisps of silvery light, she kicked a trunk sitting to the side of the room while Lupin watched.
"I don't understand, what am I doing wrong?"
"It's a very difficult spell, Harry, most full grown witches and wizards can't produce a Patronus." Yes, but she was able to do most spells almost immediately, so why wasn't this one the same? "Here, let's take a break." The careworn man walked around his desk and offered her what she recognized to be a butterbeer.
"Those are great."
"How would you know?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Ron and Hermione always bring back some treats since I'm not allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Dangerous times, right?" She said the last part bitterly, and he gave her a commiserating smile. Suddenly curious, Harry looked at him. "What's under a dementor's hood?" He looked at her uncomfortably
"Well, no one really knows. And the only people who do know can't say."
"That's troubling."
"Dementor's only lower their hood to use their final weapons. The Dementor's Kiss."
"How is it even possible? To suck out a soul I mean. Does that suggest that the soul is in the stomach, or the respiratory tract?"
"Not much is known about, as no one wants to study near dementors, let alone study the creatures themselves. All I know is that it's just about the worst fate. It leaves nothing but a shell." Harry repressed a shiver. "It's what's going to happen to Sirius Black. I saw in the Daily Prophet this morning, Minister Fudge authorised the Dementors." That wasn't good.
"Professor, what exactly did Sirius Black do?"
"Hmm?"
"What did he confess to, at his trial? What is he actually locked away for?" Lupin stared into his cup for a moment, brow furrowed.
"I don't believe I read about a trial, when it all went down. Usually the manuscripts would be recorded as a public record, and with some of the bigger cases open to the public, the Prophet would take quotes. The thing is, I don't remember reading about his, and it definitely would have been in the papers."
"So he didn't have a trial at all?" Lupin looked at a loss. "What about incident reports, would those be public too?"
"Incident?"
"What happened to Peter Pettigrew." Lupin suddenly looked pained, and he set down his cup harshly.
"How do you know that name?"
"I heard it in passing, from Malfoy I think. So I asked around, and someone said he was blown up."
"He… he was." Harry didn't think Lupin's hesitance was guilty, more sad.
"So you don't know anything specific?"
"I try not to think about things like that."
"Oh. Sorry Professor."
"That's alright." He looked at his watch. "Well, I don't think we'll be doing anything else tonight. Good luck for this weekend."
"Yah, thanks." Harry left the room, hurrying through the halls with her mind working a million miles per hour. If Sirius Black didn't even have a trial, a major miscarriage of justice by the way, then how did everyone know what happened. Did he just confess, and they took it at face value as the truth then and there? Harry knew there were problems with the magical government, like any government, but she was concerned. If something like that was allowed to pass, even with a large amount of attention from the population, what other bits of legislation or injustices could have slipped through the cracks? Harry's ramblings were interrupted when she almost ran into Professor McGonagall.
"My bad, Professor."
"Well do watch out, Miss Potter. I was just looking for you, here. There's nothing wrong with it. Somewhere out there, you've got a very good friend." Harry's jaw dropped as she accepted the Firebolt she'd received for Christmas.
"I can have it back?" She asked incredulously.
"Yes." Professor McGonagall had a small smile, something that turned distinctly sharp with her next words. "I believe you'll need to get used to it before Saturday's match. And Miss Potter, do try and win? I need to be able to look Professor Snape in the face afterwards." Harry nodded, still partly in shock, and moved around the professor on her way back to the tower. After helping Neville with the passwords again, Harry saw Ron and Hermione sitting at opposite ends of the room. Hermione was surrounded by books, and her hair was reaching the point of frizziness that Harry knew meant the witch was extremely frustrated, and approaching her would be dangerous. So, she set out to the right side of the room to grab Ron and drag him up the stairs. Once they were in the boy's dormitory, she revealed the Firebolt, and heard the ginger genuinely squeal. She smiled, leaving after a few minutes of mutual awe, settling down in her own bed before she fell asleep dreaming of flying.
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The outcome of the Quidditch match excited all of Gryffindor, as they now had a very real chance of winning the Cup. Even Hermione was more cheery than usual, considering how Ron was being. That was all slightly dampered, though, by the reappearance of Sirius Black, this time in the boys dormitory over Ron's bed.
"But why was he in the boy's room?" Harry asked.
"Harry, he's been in Azkaban for twelve years. He's probably insane, and thought you were a boy or something. I mean, your nickname is 'Harry'." Ron was basking in the attention afforded to him by the attack.
"That doesn't make any sense! Fudge said that he seemed normal, remember? Asking for the crossword. If he was really deranged, he likely wouldn't have even known who Fudge was." Ron rolled his eyes. "There's something wrong about this whole situation. First, it's revealed that Pettigrew is still alive and who knows where, then I find out that Sirius Black didn't even have a trial before they chucked him in the murder house, and now he's seemingly forgotten that his goddaughter is a goddaughter! None of this is right!"
"We'll figure it out, Harry, we always do in the end."
"You know, for once I'd like to figure out what's going on sooner than later, then maybe I won't be so bloody stressed all the time!"
Later that day, another cause of her stress turned up in the form of Pansy Parkinson hanging around Draco Malfoy and his cronies. She was bragging about Buckbeak's 'imminent death' and how her 'Drakey' had arranged it all. Harry was about to say something about it, when a flying mass of bushy brown hair flew past her and tackled the pureblood witch. Hermione got in a few good punches and hair pulls before Harry managed to pull her back. Malfoy and the rest had dumbstruck looks on their faces as they walked away, and Harry hadn't ever been more proud.
A few days later, after the incident that would live in her mind forever, she was fed up with Ron and Hermone's continuing feud. She stormed out of the room, heading towards the Greenhouses. Leaning against the glass, partially in shadow, was a nervous looking Malfoy.
"Alright, what do you have?"
"Here," He tossed her a roll of parchment, like he was afraid to get near her. That was smart. Still, she sent a mild stinging curse at him. "What the hell, Potter? I got you your info!"
"You also dressed up like a dementor and tried to stop me from winning at Quidditch. I thought we had a deal."
"It's Quidditch, that's different. I'm going to try and win, and I don't expect you to do any different. Of course, your Gryffindor nobility probably stops you there. What a pity."
"I'd show you Gryffindor nobility, but I don't break my deals, so as long as you keep being helpful I won't resort to anything too bad. Now what's in this scroll before i read it?"
"Seriously?"
"Some things don't come through as well in writing." He rolled his eyes.
"Fine. I wrote my Father, telling him I was curious about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, wondering what kind of spell could blow up an entire street, and if I could learn it. He was rather impressed by my-"
"I don't need to hear about your doubtlessly brilliant plan to get information. Get to the point."
"Fine. So he wrote back about how Sirius Black was very good at offensive and defensive spells, and that an overpowered Reducto would have done the job."
"Usually if you're really good at spells, you have control over them. Overpowering a spell accidentally would be a mistake made more by a novice than an expert," Harry mused.
"I know that. Anyway, he said Pettigrew never stood a chance, and that he was always terrible in school." Malfoy paused. "It was weird though, he seemed to know a lot more about Pettigrew than I would have thought. He was a couple years ahead and in Slytherin, there wouldn't have been much overlap."
"It could be that Pettigrew was part of a group that was pretty well known across the school."
"Maybe." They stood in silence. For a moment before she huffed in frustration. "What's going on with Wealsey and Granger?"
"What? Why do you wanna know that?"
"Curiosity. It must be interesting, because you look terrible."
"Why Draco, it's as if you care." He gave her an unimpressed look. "Her cat most likely killed his rat."
"Good riddance."
"Wow."
"What?"
"Nothing, I just didn't expect you to take Hermione's side. Maybe I am having an effect." He sputtered.
"What?! I'm not taking anyone's side, I still hate all of you!"
"Whatever you say." He grumbled something unintelligible. "If you find out anything else, signal me. Make a good joke at my expense, not the usual crappy material you use."
"Potter!"
"See ya, Malfoy." She walked away pondering the new information.
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.
Harry blamed it on the stress. Really, who knew that trying to learn a Patronus was so hard, and Quidditch practice nonstop took a mental toll as well as a physical one. Plus, she was trying to put together a conspiracy, dammit. These were all perfectly valid reasons as to why she snapped in the middle of one of Ron and Hermion's non-arguments. She was sitting in a chair in the common room, trying to work through a potions essay, when she caught Ron glaring at something across the room. Following his gaze, Harry saw Hermione, sitting in a fortress of stacked books. The stupid fued on top of everything else was what caused it.
"Alright." She stood up, grabbing Ron's robes and summoning Hermione, who came crashing through a pile of books. "We're going to talk." She dragged them up the stairs, immune to their complaints. "This has gone on long enough." The green-eyed witch pulled them into the girls dormitory, snapping at Lavender and Parvati to stop giggling over a magazine and give them some privacy. Once the other girls had left, Harry sat down on a conjured armchair and turned to the two people glaring at her while studiously ignoring each other. "You're going to yell at each other, and I'll moderate. Like usual. Go."
The two of them did nothing, still glaring furiously. Harry rolled her eyes and raised her wand. "I have too much to deal with, I don't need a rivalry brewing right now between my two best friends. So, start talking, or I start hexing." Ron's resolve crumbled a little, his shoulders falling.
"Fine." He turned to Hermione. "Your cat is a monster that ate Scabbers, and maybe if you'd just apologised I'd have forgiven you, but you keep defending him." That kicked Hermione into gear.
"He is not a monster, he's just a cat, and cats eat mice. I'm sorry that Scabbers is dead, but he was already looking terrible. He'd probably have been dead in a week anyway."
"Ah ah, red flag, Hermione. Or is it yellow? Whatever, no degrading Scabbers' death."
"I'm sorry that your older rat was eaten by my cat. It was a regrettable act, but a natural one for sure."
"There's nothing natural about that bandy-legged freak of a-"
"You know what!" The two of them started yelling again, leaving Harry to look on, sighing in disappointment. She stared at her watch, counting how long Hermione could yell without taking a breath. Finally, after they seemed to be winding down a bit, Harry interjected.
"Look, you both said bad things, and you're both partially at fault."
"But-"
"Ahah, zip it. As I was saying, bad things happened, but you can't go on ignoring each other. I can't take it, and I'm sure it's a mess for you guys too. So just make up, ok?" Ron's eyes shifted towards Hermione somewhat.
"Look, Ron, I'm really. Truly sorry about what happened to Scabbers. If it'd been my pet, I'd be furious too." Sad and frustrated tears started leaking out of the bookworm's eyes. "And it's been such a mess trying to ignore you, and my coursework is piling up again, and we're losing Buckbeak's case, and I just-" Ron looked extremely uncomfortable now, and Harry was trying to decide whether Hermione was acting or not. If so, she was getting good. Harry was proud.
"It's alright, Hermione. I mean, he was pretty old." Hermione just sniffled as Ron awkwardly extended a hand to pat her on the shoulder twice, before rescinding it quickly.
"Well thank God that's over."
.
.
"So, any particular reason you wanted to get tea?" Harry asked, sitting across a table from Crowley for the second time.
"It's been a stressful day." Harry gave him an expression asking for him to elaborate. "There's this village near Hogsmeade with a man who made a deal with me for the title of the village. There was a contractor trying to buy out the village and convert it to a lumber mill, with the forests around the village perfect. So, I traded the simpleton the security of the town for his soul."
"It's almost like you've done a good deed Crowley. Does that disagree with your stomach?" Harry teased.
"No, what disagrees with me is that my client decided to murder the contractor when he came to the village to try and buy the title to all the property in the village. Then, the neanderthal decided to book it out of the village with the body to try and cover it up. Only, he got too close to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, and the bloody dementors took his soul!" Harry stilled, staring at the angry demon across from her.
"They can do that?" Crowley raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I know they can take people's souls, but they can still take them when those souls are under contract? Won't a hellhound just tear up the dementor when the deal runs out?"
"No, because now that the soul isn't tied to a living body, time isn't counted against it. I never get to collect on the deal."
"I am so sorry that you can't get your power boost. It's a tragedy, truly."
"I could kill you, you know."
"Oh, but I thought we had a truce? And, if I died, I'd just come back to haunt you, and then you'd have to commiserate with a ghost, which is a tad bit desperate, don't ya think?" Harry sipped from her tea. "But really, I'm sorry you had to lose out to a dementor. They're terrible."
"And what have they done to offend you?"
"Besides existing? The hunter in me is disgusted with them on principle. They have no morality. Their sole purpose is to consume souls. The only reason the ministry bothers with them is so that they have a supply of souls to torture and they won't go around looking for random ones in the magical citizens."
"You said they had no morality. Few things are really evil, most are just hungry."
"Careful, Crowley, don't get philosophical on me. Besides, you hate them too."
"That I do. They make it very difficult to work around."
"And maybe I shouldn't have said they have no morality. It's more like they don't care about morality. They don't simply need souls, there are plenty of cases where dementors can survive without a steady influx of human souls, most of the ones in Azkaban just feed off of the inmates misery. It's almost like when they take a soul, it's for a boost. Like it's a high."
"Well, when demons take souls it's almost like that. We get power from souls, and you don't despise me. At least, I don't think the truce is the only thing keeping you from reaching across the table to try and slit my throat." He paused. "Which wouldn't work by the way."
"Well, I don't hate demons on principle. Not anymore at least. Sure, they're evil and corrupted by definition-"
"Harsh."
"But demons at least have rules they have to follow. Dementors are like demons, only worse because the taking of the soul is involuntary. At least demons offer you a choice." They fell into silence, drinking their tea.
"So, how did you know exactly what to get when we got here. That's a signature tea," Harry pointed out.
"I come here sometimes. The school is somewhat familiar, as my mother used to tell me stories of it."
"You come here to be closer to your mother? That's sort of sweet. And very out of character." Crowley made a revolted face.
"Of course not! My mother hated this school. She was always blathering on about the blokes Godric and Salazar, who hated each other apparently. She said her time at the school was the worst of her life." Crowley smirked. "So naturally, it's a great place for me to visit." Harry blinked.
"Okay, back up. There's a lot to unpack there. First, she talked about people named Godric and Salazar? As in Gryffindor and Slytherin?!" Crowley remained unfazed.
"Well, I suppose so."
"Your mother knew the founders?!"
"Please, she was a bloody founder. Rowena Ravenclaw. Although, by the time she had me she'd changed her name." Harry stared at the demon.
"Your mother was Rowena Ravenclaw. From a thousand years ago." Harry was stunned. "Wait, how old does that make you then?"
"Today's youth are rude."
"Crowley."
"I'll have you know, I'm not a day over 335."
"Your mother must have had extremely good genes."
"Her coven knew some tricks about immortality. I'd rather not talk about it, if you will. I resented my mother, she resented me."
"Alright, touchy family subject. I get it." Harry took on a thoughtful expression. "Although, the goblins said that I was the heir to Ravenclaw. I think we're related." Crowley snorted.
"Unless my son had a bastard that I didn't know about, I doubt very much that we are directly related. It's much more likely that you're the product of a line from one of her other conquests."
"Just trying to lighten the mood."
"Just drink you tea, dear."
.
.
Across from the smaller tea shop at the end of one of the less visited streets of Hogsmeade Village, Arthur Ketch was watching a pair drinking tea from over his plate of chips. One of them was the Potter girl, the one he'd reported to command as being the source of the energy surges. That had opened a whole other can of worms, and now Ketch had a message to deliver to the girl. He watched as the unknown man stood from his seat, nodding to Potter, before walking away and disappearing around the corner of the street. Ketch stood up, leaving some sickles on the table to cover his meal. He walked across the street before coming to a stop, standing above Harriet Potter, who was pouring another cup of tea.
"You should know that I'm armed and dangerous if you intend to rob me." She finally looked up a thin layer of amusement covering the steel in her unusually green eyes.
"I've actually come to do the opposite. I have a message to give you."
"Well don't be creepy about it, it looks like we're doing a drug deal. Sit down." She nodded towards the recently vacated seat in front of her. "So, am I allowed to know your name, Mr. Mysterious?"
"Arthur Ketch. Pleased to meet you."
"I assume you know who I am?"
"I do."
"Well that's great." She finished stirring her tea, leaning back in her seat as she took a sip. "So, what's this message? Is Voldemort giving me a warning, or is this some sort of press thing? I have to admit, I rather like the mystery." He didn't flinch at the name Voldemort. Interesting.
"I work for an organization that deals with the… let's say, more unusual entities. I think you know what I mean by that, judging by that silver knife you're hiding in your boot, and the other one on your wrist." He said all this calmly, and Harry was struck by a sense of uncertainty.
"You know, you're the first person to wonder why I have knives. That might be due to the fact that no one else can see them. So how can you?"
"I guessed about the one in your boot, but I saw you replace the one on your wrist. You seemed to be using it to slay a demon." Her eyes flicked up to meet his, stopping her fiddling with the teacup.
"Demon? They don't exist. Unless you're talking about my roommate's cat."
"Oh, but they do exist, Miss Potter. And you know that. I didn't know there were any hunters in Britain. My organization usually does all the necessary work."
"And what is this organization you're being infuriatingly vague about? MI6?"
"We call ourselves the Men of Letters. I'm only an apprentice, this is my inducting assignment."
"Men of Letters? Doesn't sound very inclusive."
"It's just a general term."
"And what is your inducting assignment? Following me?"
"No, actually, that was a coincidence. I'm supposed to monitor Hogwarts. Some strange things have been going on with the castle these past years, and I guess I've found out why." He looked at her pointedly.
"Okay, that was not my fault. I didn't hire shady Voldemort, and I definitely didn't set the Basilisk free. I stopped them."
"I know. We know. That's why we're interested in you, and the above me in the chain of command, someone has issued the order to offer you a place with us when you graduate. As an apprentice. And usually, we look down on hunters. They're too brutish."
"Hey," She interjected.
"But," he continued, raising his tone, "You're a special case. It appears that you are a legacy." He pulled a journal from nowhere, sliding it to her from across the table. Harry raised an eyebrow, reaching for the book and inspecting it. The last diary she'd handled hadn't been very customer friendly. She saw the name 'Rose Oliva Evans' embossed into the bottom right corner of the cover.
"Evans…" She traced a finger over the name.
"Rose Evans was one of the best agents in the past fifty years, something hard for the upper echelons to admit. Of course, she went into early retirement and moved across the country. There was some sort of scandal, apparently." Harry listened, a strange feeling taking her over as she heard about her maternal grandmother for the first time. "Lily Evans never joined, but we had records of her when she came to Hogwarts. That journal is an account of Rose Evans' cases as a member. It's blood-bound, so I couldn't read it, for example, and it was supposed to be passed on to her daughter, but since that's not a possibility as we never contacted her, it goes to you."
"What does this mean?"
"Beg your pardon?"
"You've given me the journal as, what, a bargaining tool? Do I have to join your boys club now?"
"It's a gift. It should've been given to your mother a long time ago. And yes, the top brass is probably hoping that you join after reading about what we do, but there aren't any strings attached in that regard." Harry gave him a mistrustful look, and he rolled his eyes. "Look, it's yours. Make your decision. But personally, I think you should join. A witch of your power would make a great operative when you're older."
"Thanks," she said quietly.
"I've got to get back, my boss isn't very appreciative of long breaks." He stood, looking down on her once more. "Think about it."
Harry watched as he left before switching her gaze back to the journal in her hands. She'd have to test it for curses of course, but she was sorely tempted to tear into it right then and spend hours outside the small shop with the diary. She couldn't, as she had to go find Ron and Hermione. Sighing, the green-eyed witch stood, carefully placing the book in her expanding pockets. She left some money for the last cup of tea, donning her invisibility cloak and strolling down the street to find her friends.
She found them at an overlook with a good view of the Shrieking Shack. They weren't alone, though, as it appeared that Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had found them and were similarly viewing the local landmark. When Parkinson started insulting them more than the usual almost banter-like comments that flowed between the trio and Malfoy, Harry spelled a clump of snow to fly at her, hitting her square in the back of the head.
"AHHH!" Parkinson whipped around, wand out and shakily pointing around the clearing. "Who did that?!" The other three Slytherins were sniggering at the gobsmacked and scared look on Parkinson's face, and Harry decided that that wouldn't do. So, she sent three more snowballs flying through the air, hitting the green-clad students in various spots. Soon, they were all yelling in confusion, anger, and fear.
"Guess those ghosts don't really like you calling their house a hut, huh Malfoy?" Ron asked. When he was also hit with a snowball, albeit a softer one, he stopped as well, letting out a high sound and scrambling backwards behind Hermione, who rolled her eyes. Harry spelled it so that Crabbe and Goyle's shoes were tied together, and they stumbled. She must have gotten too close, though, as the invisibility cloak slipped off of her face for a moment, and she watched the change in expression of everyone there. Ron looked relieved, while Hermione's eyes opened wide, and Harry realized why. The Slytherin's in the clearing were staring in horror at her disembodied head. They ran out of the clearing, Crabbe and Goyle being surprisingly speedy and coordinated with their feet still bound together.
"Harry!" Ron and Hermione had shouted it, Ron with worry and Hermione with a distinctly I-told-you-so tone of voice.
"I have to go." Harry slipped back under the cloak, apparating behind a tapestry in the hall that led to the library. She took off the cloak and slipped out from behind the tapestry, ready to establish her alibi. She worked in the library for about 15 minutes before putting away the runes book she'd been looking at, sure that enough people had seen her. Harry hadn't taken two steps outside of the room when Snape swept around a corner and stopped in front of her.
"Miss Potter."
"Professor Snape. Lovely day, isn't it?"
"I've just been visited by a rather distraught Pansy Parkinson."
"Hmm?"
"She told me an unusual tale about a floating head in Hogsmeade."
"Really, Professor, I don't see what-"
"Your floating head." Harry tried not to make the silence too suspicious. She was good at lying, but Snape was probably better.
"That's crazy, sir. I'm not allowed to go to Hogsmeade."
"That's never stopped you before."
"I've been in the library! Ask anyone in there. Well, maybe don't ask anyone, I'm sure some of them were too engrossed in their studies."
"Turn out your pockets," he said suddenly.
"Sorry?"
"Your pockets, empty them of any contraband." Harry knew she couldn't possibly empty her pockets, as there was probably some homework from first year still floating around in them amongst the multitude of items. And she didn't want to relinquish the journal she'd been gifted. Harry felt around for the first thing that wasn't the book of some actual contraband, producing a bit of parchment. Then she realised what the parchment was. Bit of a slow day for her.
"What is this?"
"Spare bit of parchment," she explained casually. Maybe she could do a switching spell and Snape wouldn't notice? But if he did then he'd know it was something important.
"So you'd be fine if I set it on fire?"
"I'd rather you didn't. I'm sentimental like that." He glared at her, putting his wand to the paper.
"Reveal your secrets." After some very offensive but probably accurate insults, Harry was torn between laughing and killing whoever made the map in the first place. Professor Snape had more color in his face than she'd ever seen, and it wasn't a happy blush. Luckily, she'd been helped out by Professor Lupin. Unluckily, he somehow knew what the map was.
"Can you imagine what would have happened if Sirius Black had this?" He asked. Harry felt some respect for the man, so the disappointment radiating off of him combined with a hint of panic, made her feel all the more terrible.
"He wouldn't know how to use it." Lupin paused.
"I'm sure he could figure it out, but that's not the point, Harry! I'm assuming you've used this map to go to Hogsmeade, which is how you knew what butterbeer was. I shouldn't even be surprised." Lupin brushed his hair back agitatedly.
"Why's that?"
"Never you mind! You shouldn't be sneaking around Hogsmeade when there's a traitor on the loose!"
"Are you sure he's a traitor?" She yelled back. "No one seems to know one bloody concrete piece of evidence of what happened in the weeks before and after my parents died! What even happened to Pettigrew? A finger? Where's the body?!" Lupin looked at her, shocked.
"Harry, what happened was terrible, believe me. But trying to find answers where there are none won't change anything-"
"I'm not looking for answers where there are none, there were none in the first place! I'm sorry I used the map, but I'm tired of everyone trying to protect me by keeping me in the dark!"
"I'm sorry too." They went quiet for a bit, the only sounds the ragged breathing as they tried to catch their breath after the shouting match. "I'm keeping this map. I'm sorry, but it's dangerous, and it would be against my duty as a teacher to allow you to keep it. You're free to go." Harry slid out of the room, frowning and muttering to her shoes as she made her way from Lupin's office to the common room. She was sulking in an armchair when Ron and Hermione found her.
"Did you get in trouble?"
"No. Lupin came to the rescue."
"Professor Lupin, Harry." Harry rolled her eyes and sunk lower in the armchair, ready to be done with the mass murderer stuff.
"Are you sure I can't just go find Black and get answers? I'd be really careful."
"No, Harry." Hermione sounded about as exasperated as Harry was tired. Harry only just considered that Professor Lupin knew how the map worked, which was another mystery altogether. It was too late to think about anything anymore. She nodded to the bookworm, moving to escape to the girl's dorm, falling into bed. She was prepared to sleep like a rock the entire night, but she woke up to something pulling at her hair.
"Crookshanks, I swear, if you're messing with me again I'm going to skin you and wear you as a scarf." A distinctly caw-like noise sounded off from her left, and she shot up, wand in hand and pointed at a… crow? "What the…" She noticed a tiny scroll tied to the bird's ankle, and she hesitantly undid the message, scooching away from the bird that was now staring at her bedpost with a tilted head.
I've got some more news. Meet in the forest in ten?
It's Loki by the way.
Harry looked back to the bird that was still examining her bedpost. "Of course he sent you. Doesn't do anything normally, does he?" Harry was startled once more when a flash of orange appeared out of nowhere, pouncing on the bird. "Crookshanks, no!" She whisper-screamed. But it was too late, the bird's neck had been snapped. "Did you have to get blood on my sheets?"
Ten minutes later, Harry was waiting in the clearing where she'd yelled at him the last time they'd talked face-to-face. She shuffled around, cold and still slightly stiff from her sudden wakening.
"Hey kid." Harry was proud that she only jumped a little bit when he appeared behind her.
"Loki. What's up?"
"First off I want to say that time travel is finicky. It lets off a specific energy signal and to the wrong group that's a red flag, so I have to be careful about it." She nodded. "Having said that, I was able to go back a few more times for more context. I found out that there was a larger reason than You-Know-Who deciding to come after you on a whim, and that the Longbottom family went into hiding as well."
"Neville?"
"The kid's name is Neville Longbottom? That's harsh."
"Loki-"
"Yah, yah, focus. I wasn't able to listen in on some of the more important meetings, there was some sort of spell to keep me out, which either takes a lot of power or a lot of creativity. Then I went back to the teenage years, the best years of anyone's life of course, and there was some interesting drama going on, let me tell you-"
"Loki!"
"Sheesh, I thought you wanted info, I'm spilling the deets." She gave him an unimpressed look. "Just kidding. So your dad was friends with Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black, as well as another nerdy kid but I didn't see him much in later years so… Your dad and black were like the ringleaders of a prank group, kudos to him by the way, and Pettigrew sort of followed along. He wasn't powerful or persuasive like Black or your dad, but there were some weird times around seventh year where he seemingly disappeared. I don't know much else, I was only able to get quick glimpses."
"That's alright, any bit helps."
"Well, if you need some comfort food like chocolate, or ice cream, or chocolate, you know how to find me," He offered. She gave him a wry smile.
"Thanks." He started to turn, and she suddenly remembered something. "Oh. Loki?"
"Yah?"
"You sent me the crow, right?"
"Well yah, dum dum, who else would have?"
"Well, see I was making sure because the bird is dead so I didn't want to confess accessorie to murder of a bird if it wasn't your bird…"
"The crow… is dead?" He asked slowly.
"Yes."
"What did you do? It wasn't part of some weird ritual, right? The things you kids are doing these days, really…"
"You realise I do rituals to summon you pretty often."
"That's different, I'm not a bad omen."
"Says you."
"Ouch."
"So you aren't upset?"
"It's not even a real bird, I conjured it."
"Well what would happen if a cat ate that conjured bird?"
"My bird got eaten by a cat?"
"Yah?" He sighed.
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay. Sorry again. Bye."
"See ya." He blinked away, and Harry trudged back up to her room, content to spend the time thinking about her conspiracies. Once she reached her room, Harry's mind was alight, and she couldn't possibly go back to sleep. She decided to pull out the journal she'd stashed in her trunk, flipping it open to the first page.
31 October 1954
The apprentices had their first real assignment today. Well, I suppose the assignment was yesterday and I've dated this wrong, but that is all semantics. We were assigned to the monitoring of the Samhain activities undertaken by the smaller wizarding village outside the compound. It was a shock to me when I was introduced to the knowledge that magic was real, and more widespread and dangerous than I could ever have imagined, and it has only been about three months since the beginning of my apprenticeship so I shouldn't have expected differently, but last night was cause for more surprise. The lessons they teach us painted the festival as dark and almost sinister, but I only saw enjoyment last night. It's not the first time my mentor has mentioned the barbarian nature of monsters, and he's included some magicals in that by proxy. I probably would have agreed, but fortunately my study of world history has allowed me a more rounded view, and I was taught to take into account every point of view. After starting to do that, I feel less certain about the stronger convictions of my mentor. Perhaps last night was a fluke, but I shall be vigilant.
Apprentice R.O. Evans
Harry read the excerpt quickly, then again slowly, trying to take in the meaning of the words as well as try and comprehend that her grandmother's hand had traced these same pages once. It was a nice feeling to have something that offered a stronger connection to her family for once. Harry spent the next few hours reading about the adventures of her grandmother and the politics inside of the Men of Letters. Her concentration was only broken by the rising of the sun, and Hermione's subsequent stirrings from sleep. She reluctantly put away the journal and got up to get ready for the day ahead.
.
.
A few weeks after being given the journal, and Harry still wasn't done reading it. It wasn't as if she didn't have the ability, she was just analysing it more emotionally than a textbook she might speedread. And, when she was about a quarter of the way through the book, she'd had to decrease her efforts in order to attend all of the extra quidditch practices set by Oliver and keep up with her increasing amount of schoolwork. Divination in particular was giving her a headache, not to mention the actual twinges of her scar she got sometimes when in the overperfumed room.
She put all this aside on the morning of the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match. She tried to eat breakfast, but it really wasn't agreeing with her, so she settled on drinking half a glass of pumpkin juice while trying not to drip it on herself on account of her nervously bouncing knee. The moment she left the arena to walk onto the pitch might have been one of the most stressful of her life only because she was absorbing Oliver's worry by osmosis. She needn't have worried, though, as they touched down at the end of the match with the Quidditch cup in hand.
After that, the school year was more relaxed, apart from the increase in schoolwork as exams approached, and the analysing of the journal along with her feelings towards the Men of Letters. Oh, and the supposed mass murderer that was still after her. Harry was glad when she had an afternoon to relax with Ron and Hermione in Hagrid's hut, even if they did have to politely decline his rock cakes in increasingly creative ways so as to not hurt his feelings. He was already a mess, glancing out the windows every few minutes as they waited for the examination committee. When Hagrid almost burned them by pouring the tea with his shaky hands, Hermione took over, telling him to sit down. Harry was trying to figure out how to comfort the man when Hermione let out a surprised half-shriek.
"Ron! It's Scabbers!" The redhead jumped as Harry's head snapped up in disbelief. In the pot Hermione had been extracting sugar from was a graying rat missing a toe.
"Scabbers!"
"I guess Crookshanks didn't kill him after all." Ron looked up from where he was cradling his recovered pet.
"Right." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry."
"Ouch!" Harry looked around, certain that something had just nailed her in the back of the neck. Hagrid's window was open, but nothing else seemed amiss. Until Hermione let out another gasp and she turned to see the committee they were waiting for heading down the grounds towards them. A committee that included Dumbledore, if the louder robes were seen correctly, and, judging by the portly figure and hat, the Minister, as well as a figure holding a very distinctive axe. Hagrid ushered them out through the back door. They slipped on the cloak, heading away from the group of officials. They turned back at the top of the hill, and Hermione shut her eyes, holding tightly on the both of them as they heard a thunk. Harry felt a combination of pity, sadness, and anger. Rightfully distracted, Harry was surprised when Ron shouted suddenly, chasing after a now-loose Scabbers.
Of course, that didn't explain the distraction that led to Ron getting attacked by a very familiar large black dog. She couldn't explain how the animal had grabbed him and dragged the redhead into a gap at the base of the Whomping Willow, Scabbers still held tightly in the ginger's grasp.
"RON!" She screamed along with a distraught Hermione. A loud snap sounded out, and Harry winced in sympathy at Ron's obviously broken leg. She watched as the last bit of his foot disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel under the tree.
She'd been distracted, and now one of her best friends was missing down a secret passageway. These were the thoughts that went through her mind, clouded by a sudden burst of pain, and then she was on the ground.
Right. Whomping Willow.
Harry scrambled up, hand pressing against the throbbing pain above her right eye, before steeling herself to perform some great bout of magic to freeze the tree. Before she could do that, the tree froze in the motion of swatting at Hermione, and Harry looked over to see a smug looking Crookshanks with his paw pressed to a knot at the tree's base.
"What the hell? He can do that now?"
"Crookshanks?" Hermione whispered. Harry just stared into the cat's eyes, before turning back to the feline's owner.
"Ready?" She nodded, and they stepped forward, wands held aloft for the trouble they would no doubt encounter. It was time for their yearly brush with death. "Once more unto the breach, then. Cheers." The two witches disappeared into the tunnel as the tree unfroze, erasing any evidence of their having been there at all.
.
.
MagicalCatgirl68: That's a great idea that I might implement in book four, if only for the scene of Dumbledore working a telephone and Bobby trying to use his FBI voice to be Dursley. Also, Bobby's English accent. If I don't give you credit, yell at me.
Jedi SteelWolf: I think Harry assumed they were the same thing, because she hasn't had much experience hunting magical creatures. This sort of adds to her paranoia, because what if she'd been attacked by a magical monster and the muggle monster methods don't work? The potion is a cool concept, I don't know if I'll write it in in this story. If I do though, and I forget to give you credit yell at me.
Meep: Your good feeling is correct, I will say spoilers, but kudos for commenting on it. I'm actually really excited for when all of my different absurd ideas come together to explain some of the things about Harry that just don't seem like they should work. As for fourth year, I think after the year she's had, she would probably want to lay low for a year. That does sound like something she'd think, but I feel like she'd find out about the dragons earlier, like Harry from the books did, and maybe go through that line of thought earlier on. The Loki and Harry relationship did seem to be more developed in my head than I probably wrote down on paper, so let me say that in my head they'd been occasionally corresponding, and they're sort of friends enough to hug. I don't plan on pairing them, I'll say that.
setokayba2n: Harry definitely understands Lupin better as someone who was misjudged constantly as a kid because she was a witch. And I'm ready for the future banter between the Winchesters and Harry, and the rumors of the Winchesters among monsters and other hunters matching the ones about Harry.
Cyan-Snake: I'm working on occlumency. As for Crowley, he's not necessarily 'preaching gospel' to Harry, but she's tired and can appreciate an ally after some of the things that have happened at Hogwarts. Remember that she has some strong Slytherin tendencies. She doesn't agree with everything Crowley does, but she appreciates his style. I probably could have developed the research angle of Harry more in the second book, but that's the natural evolution of a writer, to do better in later chapters. Thank you for the constructive criticism, I'll try and work on rounding out her character in future chapters.
Guest: The black stuff might be revealed soon. Honestly that was spur of the moment, but it does represent a larger fear that I think fits in with this Harry's character.
Guest (same?): Sorry if you are the same, I can never guess with the two guest reviews in a row. Anyway, that is something that makes me happy to think about. Just the connections that Harry has all coming together and each of them hating the other of having tried to kill at least on of them over the years. I do like that dialogue, so I might use it, and I'll attribute it to 'Guest' when I do use it unless you have a name you'd like me to use.