"For the last time Morrison— Big. Wand. Isn't. Real."
"But how do you know that? How do you know the Ollivanders aren't deliberately playing up the risk of Wandless Magic to get more people to buy wands? How do you not know that they're deliberately paying off the textbooks and papers to promote spells that destroy wands? How—"
"Because it's stupid," Neil declared finally, swishing another gin and tonic, not bothering to entertain that conspiracy theory even further.
"You're just open-minded enough," Morrison observed, much to everyone else's chagrin. "How do you really know? Come on, think about it, there's no way to disprove it—"
"And no way to prove it either," Tobias chimed in.
"Therefore, it isn't real," Neil added.
"But how—"
"Is this all he's been talking about tonight?" Thomas remarked, amused, inserting himself into the conversation. He was chatting with Cynthia in a corner— they seemed to be reminiscing about something and getting rather intimate.
"We also discussed the probability of the Rotfang Conspiracy." Morrison sounded very pleased. "I think you guys are locking me out of something important!"
"Oh Merlin not that too!" Tobias was facepalming hard, while Neil just kept shaking head.
"Yeah Morrison, seriously? The Dark Arts and gum disease?" Cynthia said, bemused.
It was early March and they were all gathered at Neil's apartment for a party celebrating Tobias' final release from St Mungo's. The guy had made a full recovery and the mediwitches had fully adjusted his nervous system to reverse the damages done by the Cruciatus Curse. Such were the wonders of progress in modern healing. In older times, he would have been confined to the hospital for life or undergone full, irreversible transformation. Neil decided to organize a celebration to welcome Tobias back to the fold and invited the rest of his team. Bonding activities and such. Freddy was away with clubbing with his mates and the timing was perfect. Lily had apologized in advance for possibly not being able to make this event, having additional commitments pertaining to other injured Aurors; she remarked she would try her best but that she would most certainly be late.
"All I'm saying— okay, okay but can you guys stop accusing me of being a conspiracy theorist?" The guy held his hands up defensively, everyone was staring at him, pretending to be peeved but, in reality, amused as hell.
"But you are one," Neil shut that down. "Own it." A grin.
"All of you people— so little creativity!" Morrison moaned.
"Well, why don't we all go around," Neil suggested while poring another round of shots for everyone in the room, "And describe all the conspiracies we believed in. I'll start first: the CIA is totally employing American Wizards and breaching the Statute of Secrecy without telling the other Wizarding Governments. I refuse to elaborate further."
"How is that a saner theory than Big Wand—"
"I believe that," Thomas uttered casually, cutting off Morrison. Like Neil, he was feeling a little buzzed too. Hence why he was so talkative with Cynthia, although they did make progress in reconciliation in the past few months anyway. "I know— Merlin was banging Morgana back in the day. I also refuse to elaborate further."
"But they were half-siblings!" Cynthia looked mortified.
"So? I never said it wasn't wrong or incestuous," Thomas countered.
"Okay… never mind that. I — for one— think that's absolutely preposterous. That said, I have another theory. The Gringotts Robbery was an inside job. Think about it— the employees were unhappy about the lack of funding and—"
"No. Just, no. Too much," Morrison interjected. "That's one step too far. The Scavengers are 100% dedicated to robbing banks, Gringotts included."
"Dude," Neil said, "We've finally found another one that's too much for this guy."
"Additionally, I believe the Sorting Hat doesn't actually sort people based on character traits," Thomas mused, "I'm just saying… how come every year, the class size for each House is ALWAYS similar? That's just too coincidental. I think it has some sort of internal quota and occasionally applies it to the right person to make the process believable. It was fooling us all."
"For the record, the Sorting Hat told me I was perfect match for Ravenclaw because of my love of the pursuit of knowledge!" Morrison looked thrown off course again.
"You were the occasional right person to mask the overall conspiracy," Neil explained. "Also conspiracy theories are not knowledge. So Thomas could very well be right anyway."
"Says the person who is also defending a conspiracy theory—"
"Mmmmm…" Cynthia was joining in too, with an enigmatic grin. "I wonder… why are you all hung up on Big Wand but not Big Broom?"
"Big Broom?" Morrison frowned.
"All the broomstick makers and Quidditch leagues are conspiring to keep broom sales profitable. They're lying to you. Wake up sheep," proposed Tobias. "If there's no way to disprove Big Wand, as you Morrison insist, how can one disprove Big Broom?"
"Well… I must say that never occurred to me…"
"Wake up sheep…" Neil whispered in Morrison's ear.
"Okay, okay! You guys got me! Big Broom might be real—"
"What is real?" A baffled Lily Potter strode into the room. She looked a little disheveled but also excited, looking forward to unwind things after an exhaustive. "Tobias, congratulations! My ex-colleagues said you recovered splendidly. I'm so glad you're okay." She pulled him into a hug.
"Hey Lily, how are Mirra and Peter? Are they holding up well?" Thomas inquired. Those were two Auror he had worked with extensively before. They were hit by a dark curse earlier and Lily was treating them.
Lily nodded and a wave of relief washed over him. He had felt a little agitated earlier that day, even though his colleagues reassured him it was not a bad injury. It took him a while to decided to come to the party.
"So… what's this thing I'm hearing about Big… Broom?" She asked wryly.
Morrison groaned.
~X~
"Neil! I'm back!"
"Wait a second! Coming!"
The knock on the door sent Neil to a mini state of panic. He swiftly cast a Muffliato and proceeded to announce: "My roommate's about to come home. He's forgotten his keys but still. Um… well, if all of you could hide your wands and stop doing spells, that would be nice. Freddy's a muggle. So no spells, no wands, no talk of Quidditch, no Big Broom, Big Wand no— "
Cynthia folded her arms. "You've lived with this guy for almost a year and you've never told him you're a Wizard?"
"Nope."
"Do you plan too?" She seemed rather accusatory.
"Nope."
"Do you even know how to use a toaster?" Thomas quipped as he gestured to the kitchen table.
"I just.. use my wand to turn it on?"
"That's… not how you use it," Morrison lectured.
"Wait, that isn't?" Surprisingly, it was Thomas who followed up sheepishly. "I actually don't think I've been using mine correctly. I'm just curious about toasters as supposed to work, that's all. Just wanted go ask."
"I can teach you guys how to use your toasters someday," Tobias offered while shrugging.
"Whatever, please don't ask anything — say anything— stupid or revealing." Conversations about toasters would have too wait. Neil headed to the door, not wishing to keep his roommate out for too long lest suspicions arise.
~X~
The biting wind gushed over his features as he soared over the dense, murky foliage of Siberia. His broom quivered ever so slightly. It was nearly summer, but that hardly helped with the cold when he was flying at full velocity, racing across the region. A perfunctory trip to keep up with a few acquaintances, in addition to some temporary promised shelter the most wanted man in England — and perhaps all of Europe, perhaps all of the Wizarding World— could hope for.
He was able to piece together another case of a wizard with a Horcrux and - unfortunately - the patterns they churned out were not promising. Egor the Evil was a Russian wizard in the mid 19th century who fashioned himself a Horcrux out of fear of death, a black ring he buried deep within the grounds, guarded by nefarious entrapments. Near the end of his life, Egor, experiencing disgust at his past actions, had sought to repair his soul. As far as most accounts could relay, the man had indeed tried to repent. He made up with the remaining members of his family, broke curses, healed village children. Thinking himself a reformed man, he retrieved that old, sinister ring and tried to reverse his curse, only — as witnesses seem to recall — to drop dead the moment a silvery whisp from the ring made contact with his body.
Though by no means a completely altruistic person, Albus sensed too many uncomfortable parallels with this sad, sad tale. Simply being a good person for the rest of his life wasn't going to make things work. Egor didn't have to become a good person, he needed to demonstrate genuine regret of the murder he committed , the one that he used to split his soul. And he had failed in that respect.
Those damning words wormed their way into his mind. They sounded like his own, but the tone was so eery. And you won't succeed either. No one in history has, Albus Severus Potter. You'll end up just like him. He was a profoundly stubborn person; he took it after his mother. He wished he wasn't. Headstrong, self-righteous, unrelenting — no matter how he sought to rectify these traits later in life. It was always particularly difficult for him to genuinely feel apologetic for what he did, although he learned how to apologize, reconcile, make amends, to sound more diplomatic with his adversaries and friends alike. By Merlin he was stubborn, however. He was now 33, it had been 8 years. 8 years since his exile, his self-imposed banishment. He struggled to feel bad.
He dismounted from his broom. He had finally reached the end of the Siberian Taiga. There were urban settlements nearby. Muggle ones, by the looks of it, although given how the Wizarding community all over the globe blended and melded seamlessly into the Muggle World, there was a chance he could run into individuals familiar with him. Still, he did not care. He had plenty of experience dealing with those who recognized him. There were chances that they were local law enforcement and would seek to capture him but, increasingly, as his reputation spread both deservedly and undeservedly (impersonators were an unfortunate part of it), most of them were simply too afraid to confront him or too curious, seeking to approach him, pay him off so he could carry favored task for them. One does not simply evade the most advanced magical law enforcements in the world without a few allies.
You missed another part… He felt the Locket around his neck buzz and frowned, sighing. He gazed down at it.
What did I tell you… I do not wish to hear from you, he thought.
It could sense his thoughts. It was him after all. I am you. I only wish to offer a few comments, which I believe will be helpful. Not that you need me to. Deep down inside, you already know.
Go on. He knew where this was going.
I was not made through conventional means, it surmised, I — we — this — this was an aberration, an accident. You were not the one who casted the encasing enchantments. It was her intention, her spells, her work. We were mainly the recipient. We are so very unlike the rest of them. Your father's old nemesis, Egor the Evil, Herpo the Foul, that batty old French witch who thought a Horcrux would endow her with eternal youth… We are not like them. And this means —
— There is still hope for us?
— Precisely.
But what does this men? What does—
I am not entirely a creation of evil.
Then what are you?
An accident.
We've established that before.
Yes but you still need to understand. All these tales of failure, the circumstances are different here. What it takes to reunite us will be different too. Unlike the others, I was not made alone, I will not be unmade alone.
And who— pray, tell — would be able to help?
There was silence and Albus frowned. The Locket was not normally so talkative but his internal speculations and triggered a bout of reflection that it could not ignore. And all of a sudden, it was silent again. The Locket's properties suppressed its trace and signs of existence, which most of the time, was a blessing in disguise, but still. There was some ominous reason as to why it wasn't speaking back all of a sudden.
Dark wisps gathered around and he realized why. Despair overclouded his horizons. Memories overcame him.
Dementors. They were here. They were enclosing on him. It was hiding from Dementors.
Racing his footsteps, he headed towards the urban settlements, but it was too late.
He could hear screams and shouts.
Those were his own screams.
He recalled the pain of his fractured soul being ripped out of his body. The helplessness. The feeling of shame and betrayal as he gazed up Delphi and Scorpius' corpse in the Atrium. The bile and bitterness as he killed her. The hopeless realization that nothing will ever be normal for him anymore and that it was all his fault.
— No. Fight back, a voice urged in his head. You're so close to safety. Don't let them get to you.
The swarm of Dementors had caught up. They sensed their pray.
Think happy thoughts.
— The angry shouts, the arguments he wished he never had. The alienation
Think happy thoughts.
("Thank you for staying for my sweets Albus!")
("I grew up reading about Hogwarts, Harry Potter and the adventures he had. And I got his son instead! How lucky I am!")
("If Rose and I ever have a baby, I want you to be the godfather!")
("I know we've been distance, Al, it's my fault. And I'm sorry. I really am. There's no excuse on my part. You needed me and I wasn't there… I'm so, so, sorry. I promise to do better. I'm always here for you. If you ever need me, I promise.")
I promise.
His thoughts flew back to the smell of candy, the carefree days sitting by the lake as they chewed the latest chocolate frog flavors — it was cherry popping candy —and Sugar Mice and Scorpius had given a self-assured "Ya-huh" nod when he casually teased the guy for being a geek. And then… and then… the guy's eyes were lifeless again.
Damn those Dementors. The memory felt so tainted—
Nigel and Andy were with him, enjoying the caramel candy, Scorpius' favorite and his too. They were eating and chatting excitably. They did not care who he was or what he did, only that he was their doting uncle. Somewhere, he could feel Scor's smile in the background. His best friend. Scor wanted him to live the remainder of his life without the wallowing bitterness he had gotten so used to. Scor would have wanted him to be happy. They were laughing—
"Expecto Patronum!" He yelled and, to his own surprise, a bright white light erupted from the end of his wand. It took the shape of a flying crow and fluttered around the Dementors, slowly but surely driving them away. It had been ages since he was able to conjure a corporeal patrons, having only managed pathetic whisps in his previous attempts ever since fleeing England. Soon, the Dementors had dispersed elsewhere and he had reached the gates.
~X~
Terry grinned as his mother finally relented and gave him permission to go to a friend's sleepover. He was 8 already but his mother was always so frustratingly protective, as was Grandpa Draco. Both of them would have mini-heart attacks when he went missing or wandered off during Diagon Alley shopping sessions or playdates with Andy and their other classmates in primary school. While Grandpa Draco had insisted that being home-schooled by House Elves at Malfoy Manor was sufficient, Grandma Hermione eventually prevailed in her desires to send him to muggle Kindergartens and Primary Schools to broaden his horizons, although there were still those home-school sessions with House Elves.
Leo was a good friend who enjoyed video games and football. Leo had invited all of his friends — who were also Terry's friends — to his house for his birthday party. It was an all-boys gang, much to Andy's anger as she stomped her foot. Leo had insisted that he would organize another boys AND girls party that Andy could attend but all the boys wanted to be together for once without the girls because girls are icky. Not that Terry minded. They spent the whole night on their gaming counsel with delicious popcorn and ice-cream. He did feel a little bit guilty about Andy though; he promised her he would do his best to include her next time.
His mother was always so fussy from the moment he was born, but he nevertheless sympathized with her. She had been through so much caring for him as a single-mother while embarking on an illustrious Quidditch career as a Chaser. She had take a short break when he was born but gone back to work when was a toddler. It made her happy and what made her happy made Terry happy too. His whole family had gone to see mother at the last Quidditch World Cup, where she scored three goals in a row, not to mention several more and where England triumphed the first time in years. Mother seemed so strong, so unbreakable and she had held him up along with her trophy. When asked what the greatest accomplishment was, however, Mother would unflinchingly say that he was her greatest accomplishment. ("I wouldn't trade anything in the world for you, Terry.")
"She hasn't had the easiest past few years," Uncle Hugo explained, "Raising you while balancing with her Quidditch career. She really misses your father."
"How was daddy like?" He would ask.
"He loved reading, knowledge, telling stories… He was a researcher after all and a Healer. He worked an a cure for Maledicti" Uncle Hugo would explain. "We worked together, me at Department of Mysteries and him at St. Mungo's before his — his—"
"Mum told me evil Dark Wizards killed him," Terry said, hoping to prod for more.
Uncle nodded grimly and that was all he would reveal.
Not that Grandpa Draco — who was possibly the only person that could rival his mother in terms of protectiveness — gave any satisfying answers either. A soft alliance had formed between Mother and Grandpa Draco against his other Grandparents and Uncle Hugo when it came to what Terry was allowed to do and what he wasn't, with the former leaning towards the 'protect Terry at all costs and let's not expose him to ANY danger' side. But said protection also involved not telling Terry anything either! Never mind that. Terry was a curious boy and he would find out about it his own way.
~X~
End of year exams had finally passed and Nigel stretched his feet in the comfortable quarters of the Ravenclaw Common Room. Beside him, his friends and housemates chatted while feasting on jelly beans, sugar mice and candy quills.
"I thought the Charms Exam was pretty easy," Conrad declared, proud of himself.
"Charms was okay but Potions was hard! It's nothing like the other subjects!" Karen complained as she threw her arms up in the air.
"Really? Potions was pretty straightforward, I thought. I agree about Charms, though, it was kind of hard. It took me three times to make that feather float! I swear! I liked the Transfiguration exam though," Nigel said. Professor Baddock was very pleased that he had managed to turn the hair pin into a matchstick his first go, remarking that he was just as talented as his father had been back in the day, but much less troublesome.
"Easy for you to say Potter, Professor Cervantes adores you," Thaddeus mumbled, "And Professor Baddock loves you even more than members of his own house!" Ah Potions and Transfiguration, his parents would be pleased. Those were their best subjects respectively.
"I did so badly on History of Magic though," Nigel countered, not wanting to attract too much attention, "I think mixed up the dates of the Goblin Rebellions. And don't get me started on Herbology — I swear Professor Longbottom's plants are conspiring to murder me!"
They all laughed. "Professor Longbottom's plants are conspiring to murder us all," Elena quipped. "I don't know how you guys survive."
"Practice," insisted Yiannis, "Practice makes perfect. Well, most of the time it does." He held up a bandaged hand and grinned.
"Oh please, we all know you're going to top our year in Herbology grades, Yiannis," Suyin observed with slight admiration. "You always know what to do with those plants!"
They were interrupted by a group of Fifth-Years who came barging in, mildly disheveled. They looked as if they were at a party somewhere else in the castle. Leading them was Serena Parker, the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who gave a friendly wave to the motley band of nervous First-Years. Other houses often joked about Ravenclaws being overly studious (or kooky) at times but by Merlin they were also party people, any respectable Ravenclaw would insist. Well, then again, many Hogwarts students would insist, irrespective of house. Nigel's father and mother both loved to talk about their party days.
"Any of you guys thinking about trying out for Quidditch next year," she came over to them, mildly drunk, but in a very good mood.
"Nigel wants to," Conrad volunteered and Nigel felt his ears glow red. It was kind of embarrassing for his friend to out him like this.
"I— I don't know if I'm good enough…" He loved Quidditch, but admittedly he was nervous.
"Sure you are! Just try out next year!" She gave him a wink. "Rest of you, try out too! We're looking for at least one Chaser and one Seeker!" And then promptly gallivanted back to the Fifth-Year quarters along with the rest of her friends.
Conversation then promptly switched to Quidditch, with Conrad professing his undying support for the Holyhead Harpies and Karen rolling her eyes in response, claiming that Quidditch was a waste of time. Thaddeus then promptly groaned and asked her to stop being so stereotypically Ravenclaw. Nigel then insisted that actually fun and that he would show Karen the light. Others then joked and asked him to stop being so stereotypically Potter.
"Do you think you'd go for Seeker or Chaser?" Yiannis asked quietly.
"I'm good with either. What about you? You're pretty good on the broom too!"
Yiannis blushed at the compliment as everyone else also nodded in agreement.
~X~
"Potter," uttered a hesitant voice, wary of the scene before him. "I… my wife and I must offer you our eternal gratitude."
Gazing at the man before him, Albus gave a warm smile, "No worries." The man was evidently feeling rather uneasy about being in the presence of the most wanted wizard in Europe. Still, he tried to make his guests feel comfortable.
It had been a while since he last crossed paths with the couple. Emilia Pratchett looked shaken but happy, as her husband Leonard Dubois, a reputable French wizard with a fortune on his name, gave her a quick kiss.
"Potter, Cyril would have killed us. He would have killed us." The man was shaking. In relief. It was all over. "If you…"
"Don't worry about it," Al explained briskly. "We swore an Unbreakable vow. He swore to not attack or inflict harm on either you— your families— and mine too. I've upheld my end."
They looked at each other and nodded. Al could hear faint words flying between them.
"So if he breaks his end, he dies?" Emilia was curious, morbidly so.
"Of course."
"Right."
"I've arranged for our house elves to transfer the sum of money to you," her husband said, "But here's part of it in cash, for your reassurance." He held out a suitcase filled with Galleons. He was afraid.
Taking in, Al's expressions were rather impassive. This was one chapter of his dalliances he finally gained closure on. It hung over his thoughts, his priorities, over the past few months. It drove — part of — his break-in into Hogwarts. Well, the area around it at least. Now it was finally over.
"Annalenna says some of her classmates are suspicious," Emilia said, "Be careful."
"I've accounted for that." His nephew, from what he had gauged, had been loyally quiet about that night. It was rather touching.
"You know Potter, we'd help. You've done quite well for yourself, I'm told you're the most expensive contractor on the market," Emilia's husband said. "It's… well, Emilia and I are grateful you're willing to offer us a slight discount. But if you need held, a favor… I... I owe you one."
"I'll keep that in mind, Leonard."
"Call me Leo."
"Leo— Cyril may realize it's impossible for him to move on you and that ordering his henchman to attack you would result in his demise. But…"
"I know, Potter. I know. Got entangled in a bad crowd and all that. Emilia would never let me live this down."
They exchanged further platitudes before they finally agreed to part their ways. As Al headed to the door, Emilias gave him another note. From Cornelius no doubt. He could sense it in her mind and she made no effort to conceal it, which, in fact, did amuse him. She was a skilled Occlumens (not skilled enough) after all, unless— unless she wanted him to know.
Cornelius would like to hire you for your services, it read.
"Ah, of course," he whispered.
"Felix too," she added. "For something different."
"Vinguera?"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"The Augurey's Claw. Next Thursday evening. His words, not mine. Got no idea."
He resisted the urge to shake his head. Both were well-connected individuals, old Alumni, that could offer him invaluable resources. With a courteous wave, he headed out into the open world.
~X~
It was nevertheless an eventful and fulfilling school year, in spite of the lack of drama, adventures or pranks. His parents may have been disappointed, but he was satisfied. He had learned a lot about magic. He had made a lot of friends. He had got the chance to explore the castle. And now it was time to head home.
The rest of the year, really, passed without much fanfare. Nigel had received top marks in his year in both Potions and Transfiguration, as well as faring above average in Charms (no respectable Ravenclaw would flunk that), Defense Against the Dark Arts (no respectable Potter would flunk that) and Astronomy. Like most other normal human beings, he struggled in History of Magic (it was an interesting subject; but so dull when Binns taught it), although Conrad had briefly chided him for not being a true Ravenclaw when the guy saw his score. (Easy for Colin to say, the guy got full marks.) Meanwhile, much to his guilt at the eminently kind Professor Longbottom, he had crashed and burned for Herbology. (Yiannis bagged top of the year for that.) All in all, the Ravenclaws, as per usual, did best in academics, which did a great deal to boost their house pride. Nonetheless, for an array of other reasons, they came short of winning the House Cup, which went to Gryffindor instead.
"We'll exchange letters guys," Karen said, "Plus— you're invited to my summer birthday party! Oh and if any of you are going to be in Italy, do let me know! My family is vacationing in Naples!"
"We're probably just going to hang around the Burrow and play Quidditch," Nigel said, "But you're all welcome to visit!"
"If any of you guys are in Brazil though… you all know where to find me!" Yiannis finished.
They all laughed. "Mr and Miss Worldwide," Conrad quipped, "Aren't we all a worldly bunch."
Grinning, they rushed to the platform with their suitcases in hand. Nigel's parents were waiting for him. There was his father, waving excitably with a giant banner, much to his chagrin and embarrassment. His friends found that terribly amusing. His mother was late in her pregnancy, her swollen belly evident. It would be a few weeks before he would greet a new sibling into this world. Beside them, Andy jumped up and down while the twins stared at the Hogwarts Express with wide-eyed curiosity. Andy ruffled their hairs and they nodded obediently as she said something he could not quite yet decipher due to the distance between them. He would be home soon and ahead of him lay the whole summer. Life was good.
A/N: A short chapter, I know. More to come later though! :)
Next chapter will touch on some other characters' backstories and secrets. Will probably be a long one too. I'm taking a while to draft it because my life and work is such a mess haha. It is what it is.
Leave your thoughts and comments in the reviews!