Shopping
Over the next week Harry finished the rest of his summer homework, and read most of his third year school books.
He'd also skimmed the fourth year books for defence, charms, and transfiguration. He was still surprised at how quickly he was picking up a random selection of the concepts. He'd also gotten the low down on The Trace, from a sixth year who was working as a delivery boy between shops along the alley: As long as he was around an adult's wand, no letters of warning.
Of course he had to be discreet enough that the adult whose wand was around didn't notice him, or care. Whichever.
So he'd had a chance to practice some of the less flashy spells.
And then Tom the Barman caught him, and grabbed him by the elbow and glared at him. "You're not paying me to reverse whatever mischief you cause using that around here."
"Oh, Um," said Harry, "Should I be?"
"A sickle now, and a sickle for each spell I have to cast to reverse anything you do."
"And if I manage to fix everything I do, without you?"
Tom gave a nod, "Then the sickle now will be the only thing you'll have to pay."
Harry nodded, "Sounds like a deal."
"You do anything I can't reverse, and I'll resign as your tutor."
Harry nodded, "I'm not planning on trying anything outside the third and fourth year curriculum."
"Then all the reversal spells should be on the next page. As long as all your failures are duds and not carnival nightmares…"
"I haven't had many of those outside of potions… but maybe I should wait on the transfiguration?"
Tom let go of his arm, and smiled, "It's always a pleasure to tutor prudent students."
"Yes, sir," said Harry, "Is … this kind of tutoring a real thing?"
"Legal and condoned," agreed Tom, "you start asking me for lectures and explanations, my fee goes up."
Harry nodded.
"You practice your transfiguration in your own room where any 'nightmare' objects you create are out of the way of my customers, and you have plenty of chance to finish them or dispel them before I need to deal with them, your tuition will be that much lower, yes?"
"Makes sense," Harry nodded.
"And no potions," said Tom.
"And no potions," agreed Harry.
"And no wards that can in any way interfere with me or my staff changing your linens."
"Agreed," said Harry.
Tom held out his hand and Harry shook. Then handed over a sickle and they shook again.
.
Harry went to his room and went straight to working his way through his defence books. Though several spells he had to skip for lack of the right kind of target. He was working his way through his third year charms when he suddenly realised, it was Tuesday morning and Hermione might be at Flourish and Blotts.
She was.
.
"Hi, Harry," she said and jumped up to hug him, though it was a tiny bit awkward because she had to put his head to the other shoulder than usual, so as not to unseat Nim.
Harry hugged her back. Which she seemed to notice, and she didn't let go as fast as usual. When she did loosen her grip she glanced at Nim and greeted her, then returned her eyes to Harry's.
"You're different," she said.
"What?" he said.
"You're hugging me back," she said, "you usually don't."
Harry shrugged, "I'm getting used to Nim," he said.
"Getting used to her how?"
"She lays on me or claws up my shoulder because she likes me and wants to keep me close," muttered Harry, "instead of hitting me in the hopes of scaring me away or keeping me out of sight."
"Oh, god, Harry," she said, "I knew your relatives were awful but … I thought it was more like pointed neglect, not … not physical abuse."
Harry shrugged, "I don't have to worry about it for a whole nine and three quarters months," said Harry, "They were a bit better this summer, but … the hope disappointed just made the return to normal that much harder."
Hermione just stared and then tightened her arms again. Harry put his head where he knew she wanted it, but he wondered why until he heard the wetness of her next sniff.
He didn't think Hermione ever cried, well … not since the troll anyway.
"Anyway," said Harry, "I'm getting a shoulder protector made, do you want to see?"
"Sure, where?"
"The leather shop about half way down Old Manxim Court."
"Oh, I haven't been there yet," said Hermione, "Mom?"
"What?"
"Harry want's to show me a shop he found, May I? Do you want to come with?"
"Certainly, just a moment."
.
"Mr. Engelbart, I know this is a day early."
The proprietor stared at him for several seconds, "Ah, Mr. Potter!, Yes, yes, Not a problem, it's ready for a test fit, just a moment." He put down his tools and went to a cubby on the back wall to pull something down. He brought it over, Nim jumped to a counter two meters away.
"How do you not fall over when she does that?" said Hermione.
"She telegraphs her intentions a little in advance, I've had to practice interpreting that, and leaning into it."
He turned to Mr. Engelbart who showed him how the thing was constructed and where the straps went. A big pad covering his upper back, and two smaller pads covering his chest, One long belt around his middle, to hold all that down. Two smaller pads like epaulettes, only wider to cover his shoulders without loosing freedom of motion and two small straps holding them to his arms. Putting it on wasn't quite like putting on a shirt or Quidditch pads, but not entirely dissimilar either.
Once all the straps were at least fastened he tested his range of motion, including drawing his wand and brandishing it at a rack at the far end of the room.
Hermione gasped, but covered her mouth.
"Yeah," said Harry, "this will do. Nim?"
Nim jumped on and found her balance, then walked behind his head, somehow, sniffed the area that was would soon be Hedwig's exclusive territory, then braced herself to inspect whether she could claw-walk across Harry's chest to her own shoulder. She seemed to decide against it, turned the rest of the way around and walked behind his head back to her normal shoulder.
"If I'm interpreting correctly, she says it's sturdy enough and asks if it's rabbit on the top layer and dragon hide on the lower layer."
"Yes, on the dragon hide. The top layer is actually split cowhide, but with my own special tanning process that leaves it softer but stronger than I think you might be used to."
"Hmm, alright," said Harry.
"So, what colour would you like?"
Harry sighed.
"Say what you want, seriously. Say anything, I'll tell you what I can and can't do. But first give me some clues."
"I'd like if you could match our eyes," said Harry, "but, I've had very poor results with that so far."
Mr. Engelbart stepped close and stared into his eyes, then into Nim's. "Not Malfoy green, but it's close," Nim grunted, "it's almost Slytherin - Ancient."
"There's a Slytherin - Modern?" said Harry. Talk about an oxymoron.
"Certainly," he said, "pigments and pigment sources come and go, uniforms especially school uniforms are often the cheapest that symbolically fulfil the accepted forms."
"So ancient is more expensive?"
"Was more expensive, whenever that was, 1600s sometime, the war with Spain made certain commerce untenable, you know. Other mixtures were found. Most people either can't see the difference, or don't care."
"Oh," said Harry, "Do you have samples?"
"Certainly."
.
Hermione and her mom had wandered off the browse the rest of the merchandise by the time Harry limited his selection to things he didn't mind, then Nim insisted he take what remained outside and remove whatever else he didn't like. That limited it enough that there were only two left, a jade and a forest green, he selected the forest green, fully aware that it didn't match his eyes at all, but was far enough away not to clash. At least to his way of thinking.
He checked with Hermione, she agreed. She was looking at purses with expansion charms on the inside.
"There are also wand holsters around somewhere," he whispered.
Her eyes lit up.
"I was going to look at them later, when I'm finished with this."
She nodded and started looking around.
He returned to the front and gave Mr. Engelbart his selection.
"This is one of our most popular greens," said Mr. Engelbart, "especially for faux dragon-hide boots."
"Oh?" said Harry.
The proprietor waved to the selection of ankle, calf, and knee boots by the front door.
"They're all faux dragon hide?"
"No, not all, you should be able to differentiate well enough by the price tag."
"That makes sense."
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then he got Nim down and figured out how to get out of the shoulder pads.
By the time he caught up with Hermione, she'd found the wand holsters.
They picked through them together.
.
"Oh," said Harry, "Did you see the mechanical cutters and stitchers for dragon hide?"
"The what?"
"Over there behind that workbench, bolted to the floor? The one that looks like an extra beefy paper cutter?"
"Oh, yeah, with the ratchet wheel and … is that a hand operated chain crane to pull the lever down?"
"Yeah, but, I've never seen him use that, he says he only needs in on the leather from a few species. The rest he can operate it with just the second gear lever, that's what he's done the times I've watched. It's pretty interesting."
"That might be the most complex machinery I've seen in the magical world," said Hermione, "I presume because dragon hide is resistant to magic?"
"From what Mr. Engelbart says, it doesn't just 'resist' it, it 'eats it' to repair itself and become stronger. Something about most of the techniques to cut and shape things that can affect it faster than it can absorb them, or block it from repairing itself are too dark or too light for the average master to insist on their apprentices using regularly, or for the average wizard or witch to wish to wear."
"Ugh, yeah, that makes sense," said Hermione, "so the two smaller machines next to it are stitchers?"
"Yes," said Harry, "the lever operated one is for thinner dragon hide and all the other kinds of leather. The one with flywheels has settings for drilling holes instead of just punching them."
"Oh, my."
"Do you want me to ask if he's going to be doing any dragon hide today?"
"No, that's alright."
.
"Oh, by the way," said Harry, "I learned another one of those traditions that seems very sensible in explanation, but that … ends up being rather discriminatory in practice."
"What's that?"
"You hang out near enough to an adult's wand, and the ministry assumes that your magic use is supervised. The letter of the law as I understand it is more like 'you hire an adult to fix your mistakes before it inconveniences mages or scares muggles,' and it counts as supervised, or tutoring or something."
"So … are you buying tutoring, or an insurance policy against needing the magic reversal squad to step in?"
"Yes."
"That's … kind of good in the libertarian sense of 'doing no wrong, actually means carrying insurance to pay for your mistakes,' and kind of bad in the sense of 'do all our pureblood friends just hire one of their parents to watch them, then practice as much as they want over the summer?'"
"Exactly," said Harry, "though I've begun to wonder with the whole boarding school thing, if our classmates are precisely those whose parents refuse to put their name down as willing to supervise them."
"Oh," said Hermione, "I hadn't thought of that. Wait, do you have a tutor? You do don't you!"
"Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. He is charging me a sickle to be my tutor and another sickle per spell he needs to cast to repair my mistakes, so far I've been careful enough I haven't needed him."
"Um," she said, "I think everything at the Leaky is a sickle."
"Saves writing down lots of complex contracts and making change," said Harry.
"True," she said, "Oh, Here's one that matches what you picked for your shoulder pads."
Harry tried it on, "Doesn't fit though."
"What?"
"Doesn't tighten far enough, this piece gets too wide to slide through the clasp."
"Oh. Oh well."
.
They decided which holsters were favourites, but Hermione wasn't ready to buy anything until she'd bought her school supplies. And anyway, now she was trying to decide between the bag and holster, or a familiar.
"You've been buying all these books, and now you're worried about not enough money?"
Hermione shrugged, "Mum and Dad will buy me instructional books no questions asked as long as I fill in a chart of purchase date and the dates I finish reading them the first three times. Uncle Robbie ditto for history books, though explaining that I buy history books for a culture he's not allowed to know about could get complex. Aunt Mary gave me birthday money, to buy something that wasn't books, I was thinking about a cat, but … that bag would be nice. Though probably she'd understand if I wrote her 'thank you, and I bought a purse,' without her needing to see it up close and personal."
"Hmm," said Harry, "Yeah, I can see how a cat would be a safer choice than a purse and a wand holster."
Harry thought about buying her the wand holster she liked, but he'd vowed not to spend more money than he needed to, to make sure his inheritance would last until graduation. Especially if he had to live on his own again next year.
And if he bought just his holster in front of Hermione … he'd had bad luck with friends and family being jealous in the past, and he was very aware he depended on Hermione's good will to correct his spelling, especially in Latin.
In the end he left it there, maybe he'd buy it when he came back for the shoulder pads.
.
"Anyway," said Hermione as they returned to Diagon Alley, "I got my shopping list, I guess I could start on that. Or wait for the Weasleys to get back at the end of the month."
"Ah," said Harry, "Why wait?"
"Flourish and Blotts is OK, but some of the shops charge more to muggleborns. When I'm with the Weasleys they don't do that."
"And some charge me less or significantly more if they figure out I'm the boy-who-lived."
"Oi," said Hermione.
"Mr. Engelbart back there, doesn't seem to change his prices but he might talk to me a lot, compared to his other customers."
"Or the way Nim feeds you statistics about leather makes him think you're a like minded leather geek."
"I didn't realise that there was a such thing as a leather geek."
"Well, Mr. Engelbart obviously is."
"I guess."
"Do you want to check if I'm a sufficient non-muggleborn presence to get you your things at a fair market price?"
"Sure why not," said Hermione.
So they did Hermione's school shopping. Except for potions ingredients.
Mrs. Granger took him aside and thanked him quietly. He tried to shrug it off. But she didn't take any answer but, "you're welcome."
.
After the Grangers left, Harry and Nim returned to their room, Harry got out his book, but his head was too full of shopping and Hermione's commentary, and Nim's impressions of Hermione's commentary, that he just lay down and stared at the ceiling. Nim curled up under one arm and they communed in silence about the arbitrariness of human tradition, until Hedwig woke and became restless. Harry let her out, and Nim wanted to go out too.
So he went down to dinner alone, if it could be called 'alone' with two pampered predators bickering about their prowess and ability to feed themselves in the back of his head.
He had the weird idea that he ought to find an introduction to the history of economic philosophy to read to Nim, not that he really expected a pet to comprehend wages any better than a house elf did. At least the cat understood the idea of working alone, and that his rented room was only temporarily their territory.
I AM NOT A PET.
Sorry, Nim.
Don't forget! I am not a pet, I am your pet.
I think something got lost in translation.
The tickling sensation of an imagined growl without the sensation of hearing or feeling a growl. A similar sensation of Nim imagining jumping off his shoulder to tear the face off an imaginary threat: not quite human, not quite dog, not quite snake, wielding magic, that it aimed with what was not quite a wand and not quite a tail. Then taking impossibly painful spell damage, only to be saved by Harry's counterattack. A confusion of violence. And then climbing gingerly into a shower where cat-person Harry was already wet and washing the blood off.
That is more of a dog sort of pet.
NO.
I know, you're not a dog.
Another image two cat people, dressed in … dragon hide, knives and wands. One might be Harry grown up, covered by some of the scars he didn't have anymore. The other might be a girl, back covered in old whip scars, arms covered in new knife scars.
Another magical battle: This time the girl mostly dove forward and shielded, giving Harry not one but two surfaces of magic between him and the oncoming spell fire, so he could duck behind or aim above her shield. Which worked until they were outflanked, she had to move, her shield failed, she fell unconscious, he had to shield for himself, and mostly hunkered down and waited for backup, though in the mean time, as he had opportunities he fought his way to her side, re-shielding and waiting patiently when the resistance was too risky.
Oh, a squire or shield maiden?
Yes, pet.
I appreciate the protection, but my goal is to get out of most fights with diplomacy before they descend to violence.
A wise desire. Your diplomacy needs more training.
I know.
Now, Hunting.
Fine, please stay safe.
Yes, only rodents and insects. No dogs or cats until you're along to help.
Please don't go picking fights with cats or dogs even when I am along to help.
Yes, yes, you just said, diplomacy first.
Exactly.
Harry shrugged and glanced around. No one was looking at him, but the men at the next table over were discussing potions ingredient prices and import taxes a bit too loud. Either they were drunk, or they were trying to attract attention somehow.
Tom came over and asked them to keep it down. They only got a bit quieter. They did change topic to the trade of boomslang skin, and some kind of lizard venom.
After a while someone did approach them, and all three got much quieter, and the topic shifted again to venom from yet another kind of snake. And then to snakes, and then to import taxes again.
Oh, were they reeling in poachers? Or maybe legitimate importers or trappers. If Harry was trying to make contact with a poacher specifically he'd be in one of the pubs several blocks closer to Knockturn.
After a while one took the newcomer elsewhere, and the last one said he'd get the tab and meet them tomorrow.
I know those accents, thought Harry.
Tom came over and the man ordered another round, butter beer this time, Harry stood up and leaned against the end of the bench.
"I'm buying that one, Tom," he said, "and one for me."
Tom looked him up and down, then shrugged and shuffled off.
The man looked up at him appraisingly.
"You and your partner work in apothecary supply? Trying to drum up more sources?"
The man nodded, "you looking for a summer job?"
Harry shrugged and sat down.
"What's the wholesale price for basilisk venom?"
"More than you can afford."
"What unit is it even measured in?"
"Drops or grams, depending on the source and the buyer."
"Ballpark then," said Harry, "for a quarter cup."
The man leaned forward, "you asked wholesale because you have some you want to sell?"
Harry shrugged, "I might."
The man nodded and narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the ceiling, "more than I can afford on short notice."
"What's the shelf life anyway," said Harry.
The man raised an eyebrow, "I'm not certain you belong in this field."
"I for certain don't belong," said Harry, "which is why I'm interested in the possibility of finding a competent contractor."
"You're muggleborn."
"Half blood," said Harry, "Though I find the question offensive."
The man smirked, "I'm half blood myself, I'm just wondering how much business experience you have, at your age. And more specifically on which sides of the statute your experience is on."
"Ah," said Harry, "Mostly listening to my uncle create deals and sell things. Mostly on the muggle side."
The man nodded and leaned forward with his hand out, "Michael Davis."
"Harry Potter," said Harry.
The man froze for half a second, then nodded, "Tracy's mentioned you were a parselmouth."
Harry nodded.
"Could come in handy if you want to get into raising snakes."
"It could," agreed Harry, "Did she mention the threats and the petrifications?"
"The what?"
"The Heir of Slytherin writing threats on the walls, and the students and familiars turning up petrified."
"You?"
"Voldemort, well a memory he left in a book to possess the unwary."
"Merlin," he said, "let's start from the top, don't say that name unless you intend to disrespect the dead, many of whom died for saying that name."
"What?" said Harry.
"There was a taboo on it, alerting the man to where his enemies might be. We think it started as a way to come to the aid of his followers when they prayed to him, but it quickly changed to a way to suppress everyone who even discussed opposing him. A few survived such punishments, enough for the rest of us to never say the name. Some of the survivors have genuine PTSD flashbacks from hearing it. Most of us have heard the stories of enough survivors that we do not use it out of respect for the dead as well as for the survivors. All of us train our children not to say it, not as if it is a bad word, but as if it is dangerous to say. Maybe it won't call him up anymore, but it still calls up memories, and sometimes those memories are strong enough to trigger accidental magic."
Accidental magic in adults.
"Of all the things for no one to tell me," said Harry.
The man nodded, then shrugged.
"I'll attempt to be more respectful," said Harry.
"Good," said Mr. Davis, "a memory left in a book, capable of possessing people, even unwary children, is quite a feat, quite an artefact, is it safely contained now?"
"Killed it with basilisk venom."
"So that part is real."
"Yes."
"And there's still basilisk venom around."
"There was last spring, hence the question about shelf life."
"Is the basilisk alive or dead?"
"Dead."
"Might be preserved, might not, what was the environment?"
"Damp sub-dungeon."
"Probably not, at least it's not buried in active topsoil or peat?"
"No, just laying on a damp rock, which is covered in small animal bones, and a shed skin several dozen yards away."
"Not a small sub-dungeon then."
"No sir."
"Well, it's worth checking, but I wouldn't count on much."
"Alright."
.
.
Weasleys
"Nice," sighed Harry.
"Harry, mate," said Ron, "What's come over you?"
"Leave him alone Ron."
"I mean, Seriously!" said Ron.
"Huh?" said Harry.
"You need to be following the conversation a bit better," said Ron, "even if you're just going to be saying, 'yeah, sure, hmm.'"
"Sorry," said Harry, "Do you two want to climb the fire escape onto the roof."
"Hmm?" said Ron, "What, why?"
"To observe the full moon and other astronomical effects."
"Is that really a thing in central London?" said Hermione.
"Hedwig and Nim think so."
"Oh," said Hermione, "Yes, of course."
"I don't get it," said Ron.
"I'll come," said Hermione, "Though I won't stay if it's too uncomfortable, or particularly unsafe."
"It certainly might be, it rained earlier," said Harry.
"What's going on," said Ron, "are you sure this won't get us kicked out?"
"I doubt it," said Harry, "and your mother can't ground you the night before school."
"True," smirked Ron, "alright whatever."
They made their way out and up the fire escape, and clambered up onto the railing and over the parapet onto the roof. "This is so unsafe," said Hermione, but she didn't back down.
When they were all safely on the roof, and established that the only meteorological phenomenon visible were the full moon barely peaking through the clouds. They toured the edge, Ron nearest and looking over the parapet. Hermione farthest from the edge and casting critical eyes at the upkeep of the parapet itself. And Harry between them.
About half way round they got to a good view of Diagon and the rising full moon. Hermione stopped and Harry stopped with her. Ron continued for a full circuit.
"Thank you for bringing us," said Hermione and gave Harry a hug.
"You're welcome," said Harry, he gave her a squeeze, then let go to turn his attention back to the view.
Hermione also let go and slid around behind him and gave him another hug from behind, where she could observe the view over his shoulder.
"It was a very romantic gesture," she said.
"I'm still certain I have no idea what that word means," said Harry.
Hermione shrugged, "You don't have to know what it means to be able to be it."
"I don't doubt that," said Harry, "just, giving you fair warning that your compliment wasn't interpreted, beyond that I know enough to recognise it was a compliment."
"Well," said Hermione, "it sort of means—" but she trailed off and after a while she closed her mouth and leaned her head on the top of Harry's
Ron returned to their side, Nim and Hedwig came with him.
"So … what's there to do up here?" said Ron.
"What did you just do?" said Hermione.
"Looked around to see what there is to do up here."
"Before that," said Hermione.
"Um?"
"Looked around to see what you could see from up here?"
"Well yeah," said Ron.
"Why?"
"Why not?" said Ron, "It seemed like the only thing to do from up here."
"True," said Hermione, "It pretty much is the only practical thing to do up here."
"So it was pointless to come up?"
"Will you sleep better, having made sure you've verified what's around, and therefore what might be happening in your general vicinity."
"Maybe," said Ron, "yeah probably." And looked around, like he might make another circuit of the perimeter soon, just to be sure.
"That's why Harry invited us, so we could sleep more comfortably tonight."
It wasn't quite that, but maybe … close enough.
"To take a turn 'being the lookout' before bed?" said Ron.
"Just because we trust our landlord and the law to keep the area safe," said Hermione, "doesn't mean our instincts really get it," she shrugged, "so you give in to what your instincts are telling you, 'take a look around!' so we take a look around, and our instincts relax and let us sleep."
Ron grunted and wandered off again, making another circuit in the opposite direction. Nim and Hedwig stayed.
"It means Nim thinks you're prospective pack, and Hedwig already recognises you and Ron as such."
Hermione yawned, "That is what romantic means," said Hermione, "hinting, instinct to instinct, that we want each other for friends or neighbours or family."
"Or pack," said Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione and yawned again.
Nim sent an image that had only one plausible translation.
He lifted Hermione's arms a little and turned around inside them, then he hugged her.
Ron came over again, watched them for a few seconds, and Harry's familiars for a few seconds. Then he returned to the fire escape and chinned himself down and disappeared. Nim approached and rubbed her head on their knees and thighs. Hedwig flew off.
"If it wasn't wet, I'd suggest sitting down," said Hermione.
"Yeah," said Harry.
Nim followed Ron down the fire escape.
"If it wasn't three stories, I'd recommend dangling our legs over the edge," said Harry, "The parapet at least has dried off."
"If it wasn't three stories, I might take you up on that," said Hermione.
A few minutes later they helped each other down and went their separate ways to bed.
.
The Creature Hunter
[A/N: This is the first practice run: Do you see that the sub-chapter starts with 'The' in the title? In this story that means trigger warning, usually that means sex, in this case it means facing dementors without a patronus. What did Professor Lupin say about the dementor dreams of adults being more potent, because a longer stretch of memories to select from? And Harry has Bellatrix in his head. So, yeah, feel free to skip to the next chapter.]
Harry and Hermione boarded the train almost the first moment it was possible. They knew from experience that Ron's family would arrive close to the last possible moment. While they waited they looked at each other awkwardly, and eyed the very shabby wizard that had chosen their compartment to nap in. If they weren't waiting for Ron they might have switched to another compartment.
"Who do you suppose he is?" said Hermione.
Nim hopped down and sniffed, then walked around him, including climbing up onto the back of the bench to walk behind him and sniffing here and there all the way. She climbed down and back up to the far corner of the far seat and began to lick herself.
"What do you think Nim?" said Harry.
Nim sent a fuzzy image of the wizard in question (with a cat face, because Nim always seemed to expect humans to have cat faces,) battling lots of tiny bad creatures. Just when he started to make headway he dropped his wand and turned into a wolf. The bad little creatures flew away in fear of their lives. The wolf howled at the moon while it flew across the sky and then set. The wolf turned back into the wizard, who cried and cried, and then slept.
"Nim says he's our defence professor," said Harry.
"Oh?" said Hermione, "How does she figure?"
"He smells like he's been a freelance dark creature exterminator," said Harry, "I know all about how claws and talons can tear up robes."
"Sure," said Hermione, "But … how did you get from there to defence professor?"
Harry shrugged, "weird statistics I can't quite explain yet, pay attention to what the other levels say about how competent he is to teach their subjects. I think by the time we we graduate, there will be a noticeable pattern."
"Pattern of what?"
"Whether Dumbledore, having run out of well rounded professors to teach defence, is preferentially hiring those capable of teaching the subject as detailed by the syllabus for whichever year I am in."
"That is the most stuck up thing I have ever heard you say."
Harry shrugged, "I wasn't trying to strut, I was trying to accuse the Headmaster of conspiracy, I'm still watching for a motive. Then again, I'm still watching for evidence that what I just said was right."
Hermione's mouth worked wordlessly, apparently speechless.
"Anyway," said Harry, "it's not that he always has much choice, last year he said that Lockhart was the only applicant, then again, from his resume, Lockhart probably looked well rounded."
"Don't remind me," said Hermione, and stared at the sleeping man again, "So what you're saying is: that if Lockhart wasn't a fraud, this is what he'd actually have looked like?"
"Exactly," said Harry.
"I think I like him already," said Hermione.
"All that remains to be seen," said Harry, "Is if he can actually communicate all the knowledge that he's acquired fighting dark creatures."
"True," said Hermione, "But at least he didn't replace the curriculum with fiction."
"Agreed," said Harry, "That's my theory from Nim's evidence, what's your theory and evidence?"
"The initials on his valise match the name for our new defence professor in our school letter: Remus John Lupin."
"Good show," said Harry, "I won't say that trumps mine, given that a valise can be acquired second hand, just like shabby robes could also have been acquired second hand. But under the circumstances, that does make me much more certain."
"And your theory likewise multiplies my confidence in my assessment," said Hermione, "Anyway, there are the Weasleys."
.
When Ron arrived there was a tense and awkward conversation about whether to move to a different compartment, given that the full grown wizard napping in this compartment. On the one hand this was their usual compartment, on the other, he somehow managed to be here first. On the third hand, he might wake up at any moment and overhear anything they said. They got up and looked around, but all the nearby compartments were already taken, and anyway, Nim didn't want to move. So they kept their conversation low key, and didn't talk much about why Harry ran away, or anything about Hermione exploring Diagon with Harry, and spying on slytherins doing their school shopping, and reading at Flourish and Blotts, (unless it was raining and they read in the Leaky instead.)
.
Part way through the train ride Nim got up and moved to Harry's lap.
Hermione reached over and scratched her head. "Finally ready for pettings?" she cooed.
"No," said Harry unbuttoning the bottom two buttons of his shirt and wrapping it over Nim, "She's cold. Come to think of it, so am I."
"It's getting dark already," said Ron, "are we nearly there already, you two haven't even changed yet."
The cold grew worse and Nim began to tremble and grumble and hiss and sometimes thrash.
"Ron, would you mind getting my robes out of my trunk? I'm changing my mind about sharing my shirt with her in this state."
.
A nightmare about his parents dying. A nightmare about watching a muggle being sacrificed to bless the ground and the family. A nightmare about Uncle Vernon's belt. A nightmare about another muggle bound in the middle of a ritual circle and a silver knife being pressed into her paw. Four adults urging her to hunt, and four wide eyed kittens watching in horror, hoping this would all end soon.
Hands shaking him, voices yelling his name.
A nightmare about two dogs shaking him and biting off strips of skin, while Dudley mocked him and laughed.
A nightmare about hanging by her wrists and being shaken off her toes by a whip. Jeering that she could have saved herself from this by completing the ritual herself, rather than leaving it for Mother.
Silver light, and hope, and he realised that his eyes were opened and the world was washed out silver because there was a glowing ball of light between them and the compartment door, slowly driving back something big and black.
"But that one is ours," screeched a voice in his head.
Nim's thrashing resumed and the violence and horror of the random images that came from her mind redoubled. Many as nonsensical as his own worst nightmares.
"Nim!" said Harry, "Nim wake up! You're not there, you're here in my lap, in a train."
No effect.
Lacking a better idea Harry started concentrating on other images she'd sent him, especially images about being in his lap, and Nim's pictures of the people in the compartment with them.
The ideas that seemed best at pushing away her nightmares were her own images of begging to be let into the shower, begging to be let under the covers, begging for him to let Hermione into his room.
Finally the black thing was gone from the train carriage, and the nightmares were gone from Nim's head.
Harry sighed in relief, "Thank Merlin I sent Hedwig on ahead. How's Scabbers?"
"Seems to have slept through it," said Ron.
"Animals usually are not affected," said Remus, "Are you sure your Kneazle was affected?"
"She started having nightmares," said Harry, "Just like I did."
"Maybe it was a sympathetic reaction," said Remus, "how often are you aware of her dreams?"
Harry shrugged, "usually she only sleeps when I'm reading, and she dreams along, I mean … I suppose she dreams at night too, but those I'm less likely to notice or remember. Though the whole 'humans are just cats with clothes on' thing is a recurring theme that warns me she's in the loop. Hedwig is a subtler and usually involve mistaking small objects for mice and anything high pitched as possibly a squeak. Also she usually doesn't dream at night, she dreams during the day."
Something crinkled loudly nearby.
Harry looked up to find a candy bar inches from his nose.
"Here," said the professor, "Chocolate is the best cure for dementor exposure, don't give it to your kneazle, it's poisonous to them."
"Alright," he said.
The professor gave candy to Ron and Hermione also, then disappeared down the corridor to check on the other students.
"He's already our most impressive defence teacher," said Ron, tearing off the wrapper.
"Right?" said Hermione.
"So what's he going to get fired over?" said Ron.
"Statistically," said Harry, "what makes a dark creature 'dark' is that wounds from them are permanent in some way, right?"
"Sure," said Ron, "No, I mean, that isn't how I'd simplify it, but I see what you're saying."
"I bet he's suffering from the after effects of at least one failure," said Harry, "not that the creature didn't come off even worse you know, just that … danger is danger and some injuries not even magic can heal."
"Hmm," said Hermione, "and you saw the way he jumped between that thing and Harry, I bet he's a gryffindor. He might even have some of his scars from doing that sort of thing."
The two boys nodded.
Nim ducked out from under Harry's shirt, then looked around. Sniffed Harry's chocolate and backed away, sending an image of Harry drinking a potion.
"Yes, mother," said Harry. And took another bite of chocolate.
"What was that?"
"Told me to chug my medicine, it would be over faster," said Harry, "Definitely doesn't understand the idea of candy."
Nim sneezed and hopped onto the bench to curl up in the far corner again.
"Is the curling up alone thing new?" said Hermione.
"She remembers I said that that Scabbers is off limits and is keeping him out of sight in order not to give in to instinct."
"Should I be worried?" said Ron.
Harry moved his chocolate bar over to his shoulder and back, then took a bite. Ron's eyes tracked about where he'd have predicted. Back and forth, then stayed on Harry's face while he chewed.
"Fairly sure that every cat is an individual," said Harry, "but in her case, probably you should be more concerned if she was watching him for the fun of it, rather looking pointedly away. Not that I can really explain how to spot the difference between hunting interest and co-hunting pointing."
"What's that?"
"Pointing is something bird dogs do," said Hermione, "they can't actually catch birds, but they're bred to be interested in them, and they line their body up along the direction of their interest. So even without a familiar bond, muggle hunters can use them to keep track of where birds are."
"Huh, OK," said Ron, "and you think …"
"I think that Crookshanks tries to point out animals of special interest to Hermione, without that meaning he'll chase them at a moment's notice."
"Except that he will chase Scabbers at a moment's notice."
Harry shrugged, "Nim is also of special interest to Crookshanks, but he hasn't chased her since I told him 'no' the first time."
Ron looked thunderous.
"Then again," said Harry, "I warned Nim not to antagonise him either, so…"
Ron looked back and forth between the two half-kneazle, "yeah, a fight between them would be epic."
"Now imagine between both of them in Snape's classroom."
"Ugh, no thanks," said Ron.
"Fortunately or unfortunately, Unlike other cats, servals aren't afraid of liquids," said Harry, "and she was covered in potion by the time I got between her and Crookshanks. I infer that she was willing to take shortcuts that Crookshanks was wise enough to avoid."
"Ugh," said Ron.
"Luckily," said Harry, "Servals aren't afraid of liquids and it wasn't difficult to convince her to take a bath."
"You said she follows you into the shower."
"Not every morning," said Harry, "Just some of the time. She must figure some sort of trade off between how clean she wants to be and how much time it takes for her to dry off."
"Do you use hair product on her?" said Hermione.
"I did once," said Harry, "She trusted me and let me until we got out and she started to lick herself dry, then she wanted back in for another ten minutes of rinsing. After that she hasn't let me, but it's less of a 'no' and more of a 'not today'."
.
Professor Lupin returned after a while and they quizzed him about: what was that? 'a dementor, They guard Azkaban,' What it was doing here? 'Looking for Sirius Black,' What was that spell you used? 'The patronus charm,' Can you teach it to us? 'It's more of a NEWT level spell, but if you're serious, look me up during office hours.'
.
{End Chapter 3}