Hey everyone,
I'm really sorry that there is only one chapter update this month. One moment it was the 20th and I decided I would start writing the next day. The next it was suddenly the 30th.
That's at least what it felt like to me.
I also apologize that there wasn't any text in Italics. To be honest, I just didn't feel sure if I should add text or not and felt like rereading this chapter in Preventing. But like I said, time went by so fast, I just didn't get the time to do so.
More Info about all this at the end of the Chapter.
Enjoy guys,
Venquine1990
Chapter 28
This Has Only Just Begun
26th of June 1995
Great Hall, Hogwarts
Harry's POV
Master Yen Sid and the others were quick to denounce any allegations of dark magic when Axel disappeared in a cloud of smoke and flames.
Dad even vouched that he had seen Lea use the same technique earlier and then Lord Hades had reminded everyone that he appears and disappears in a similar fashion.
That shut everyone up.
And thankfully, none of them made a fuss or threw a hissy fit when Axel returned with someone who looked to be his age and who had bright blue hair and the most expressive aquamarine blue eyes I have ever seen.
The slightly older teen wears his hair in a most particular style, with some of it standing up in the back of his head and other strands covering parts of his shoulders and chest.
It really didn't surprise me that his hairstyle, expressive eyes, style of clothing and the very fit body that was barely hidden underneath made a good majority of the student body swoon.
If anything it makes me suppress a snort as it reminds of how, at first, a lot of students treated Krum – and how some of them still treat him this way.
For a moment I wondered how they'll react when we read about their reactions to the Bulgarian Champion and Quidditch Star.
But I dismissed this thought as we still have three other books to get through and just focused on making Isa feel welcome at Hogwarts and as part of the group.
And with help of my friends I made sure he was seated in such a way no one would be able to stare at the x-shaped scar between his eyes.
Isa noticed this and I subtly tapped my own scar and told him that he just didn't want to know. The lad simply nodded at me in silent gratitude.
The rest of the day was spent with me and my parents in their private chambers and Lea's gang exploring the castle, with Cedric guiding them around.
The minister and the other officials had left for the Ministry after the party the other night and Bill, earlier this morning, decided that he would take a closer look at the ward scheme.
I told him to be careful as I'm sure Dumbledore would try something to distract him. The man had been grateful for my warning and reassured me that he was already on guard.
Mum then took me aside and told me that I no longer had to feel responsible for the safety of others and that, like the students, I could just relax.
She had spent the rest of the day making sure I did, with dad, Lupin and Sirius helping her wherever and whenever possible.
By the end of the day and the time that dinner was rolling around, I discovered something new that helped me relax;
Watching my parents express their love towards Sirius, who might one day also become my dad, if only through a bonding ceremony.
And when we reached the Great Hall and retook our seats, Lea and his friends joining us yet again, I could instantly tell.
They had explored more of the castle than Cedric had been able to show them; they had most likely used their gifts and skills to accomplish this.
And this fact was most obvious with Roxas, Axel and Xion as all three had winked at either me, my parents or Master Yen Sid when they sat down.
Yet as Isa sits down with them, something else also becomes obvious. A really serious – and probably long – conversation took place between the four of them.
As my eyes rake over them, I suddenly realize what I am trying to spot. On the day Isa arrived, Xion had tried to hide some tension in her form.
That was gone now.
The Headmaster and Master Yen Sid are some of the last to sit down, yet just when the Headmaster wants to get up again and speak up, a voice interrupts him.
"I'm not too late, am I?"
Every head turns the other way as one and huge smiles appear on many Gryffindor faces as the Chasers pretend to be like the twins and chorus:
"OLIVER!"
Oliver Wood, our old Team Captain and, according to McGonagall, the best Keeper Hogwarts has seen in almost 30 years, stands in the doorway of the Great Hall.
A huge grin is on his face as he moves over to where the girls are seated a few seats away from my parents, Lea and his four friends.
"Don't ask me how, but this little fluffball somehow managed to convince my team manager and my agent that I had to go back to Hogwarts.
I mean, I know that I'm only reserve, but Puddlemere takes the chance of having to use the Reserves in as many matches as possible very seriously, you know?"
Chirithy taps the lad over the back of his head and admonishes him that he better take the reason he's here just as seriously.
"Then perhaps we should explain why Mr. Wood is here and begin."
Chirithy sighs, apologizes to Oliver for not explaining and flies off.
Oliver, while looking bemused, takes his seat between the three girls.
"So, other than the Tournament going crazy, Harry doing Gryffindor proud and Cedric being as great a Champion as he was a rival to our team, what did I miss?"
I can't help but think that that's an incredible way to summarize the last year, while also leaving so much of the year out at the same time.
"Harry has two soul-mates, one of them is an alien, aliens don't necessarily need to look inhuman, and Chirithy and Harry created 7 books – 4 about the past, 3 about the future.
We're here to read them all – calm down, Oliver. Time freezes for the entire planet the minute we start reading.
Yes, days will pass, but the magic that created the books will make everyone outside this room think that they planned certain things at a later date than before we start reading.
Say you have a match in three days from now, on the 29th. We read, it takes 3 days and we finish. Then everyone on both teams but you will think that the match was scheduled for the 2nd. So you won't miss the match."
Oliver, as I expected, looks more relieved than shocked or awed.
Yet then someone on the Ravenclaw Table asks Chirithy why he brought Oliver here. "Because we lost Junior after the end of the last book.
For every reader we lose, we need to bring in someone else. It's one of the rules attached to the ritual that allows all of this to be possible.
We also lost Bagman as the Ministry decided that he can't be trusted around students with his gambling problem, but Isa, unintentionally, replaced him."
Isa turns to Axel and asks if he knew of this. Axel shakes his head and confirms what Chirithy said, that it really was unintentional.
Isa seems heavily amused by this.
"Either way, I do believe that the time has come to resume our reading." Dumbledore says, actually holding one of the books in his hands, open on the first page.
This instantly makes alarm bells ring in my hand, but then Chirithy starts squeaking and moving his little paws in front of him.
The book in Dumbledore's hands disappears in a burst of stars and bright lights and the whole stack of books appears in Chirithy's hands.
"What – what just happened?"
Someone asks.
"I'm the guardian of the books. Considering how someone was able to confound the entire staff into them believing him one of their own, I felt the books be safer back in my old realm.
After all, outside of Sora, almost no one has ever been able to arrive in the Final World with enough of their body intact to be considered visible, let alone tangible."
I don't know what scares me more; the fact that Chirithy used to live in a realm where he was the only one who was strong enough to be tangible
Or how calm and serene the little being that looks like a stuffed toy sounds as he explains his reasoning for his actions.
Yet again, just like when the little fellow came into my life, he callously proves to me that he is much stronger than his cute form portrays.
Even Dumbledore seems too in awe to feel annoyed at how he was called out on not recognizing the danger his old friend was in.
This suddenly inspires me to look around. "Over in the corner, next to the Antechamber." Mum whispers in my ear.
I turn my head and notice that, while he doesn't look as bad as described in the book, Moody is obviously here with some reluctance.
Yet what amuses me is how his eye keep switching between Dumbledore, Snape, Fudge and several of the students at the Snake Table.
"Very well, Chirithy. Excellently done. You certainly had us all fooled. Though perhaps next time you could inform us."
I gulp down a snort of derision. "Why should I? You take actions in regards to your students, your school and your staff without notifying them for their safety, don't you?"
I don't know what annoys Dumbledore more. That he was refuted or that Chirithy insinuated to be on the same level of power as him.
Then Chirithy, who seems to be looking around for something, says: "Besides, you're probably going to get a lot of heat aimed your way like when you made that mistake in your office.
Do you really want to be holding the book when that happens?"
Yet before Dumbledore can answer or argue, Chirithy asks Katie if she wants to read the first chapter. He also reassures Hermione that she'll be able to read one of the following chapter.
Instantly I know what is going on here, why Chirithy was looking around. I turn to smirk at dad, while trying to make it look like a smile instead.
Dad's smile proves that he is trying the same and he nods to prove that he got Chirithy's hidden message just like I did.
Katie asks if there is anything she needs to do as she accepts the book and Chirithy reassures her as he explains: "Just keep everything between the Antechamber, the Entrance Courtyard and the kitchens down below in mind."
Katie opens the book and while she stares at some of the first pages, it's obvious that she's focusing on what Chirithy told her to focus on.
Just like with Aqua when she started the last few chapters of the Fourth book, a beam of light shoots out of the book, hits the ceiling and a wave of magic covers all of the Great Hall.
The bullets of magical light shoot from the center of the hall again when the magic reaches it and this time I can see one of them hitting a nearby flying owl.
The bird is slightly tilted, as if trying to catch the wind for a turn, so I can see the width and length of his/her wings as he/she freezes in mid-air.
Then I hear Katie starting to read.
Katie's POV
The past few days have been very, very interesting.
I've always been somewhat close to Harry, definitely closer than we showed the outside world.
Yet even I never noticed this worryingly suspicious side to the slightly younger boy, let alone his two closest friends.
Because of this, after hearing about this side of the boy – who I know Angelina adopted as her pseudo little brother – I started wondering something.
All those arguments between Ron and Hermione. How many of them were actually meant to be taken seriously? How many of them were meant to draw attention away from their real selves?
I genuinely hope either this book or the next will make this clear to me.
Chapter one
The Boy Who Lived
"Hey wait, what about the title of the book?" Someone on the Ravenclaw Table.
I turn a little red as I had been more focused on getting the spell working than on such a small detail. I close the book again and try to look at the front of the book.
But while I can see an image of Harry standing in front of the Hogwarts Express with a look of curious wonder on his face, the title is partially blurry.
"I can only read Harry's name. The rest seems blurred out or something. As if someone did a bad job trying to erase the title and gave up halfway."
Someone sitting near the other Raven asks why this is and Chirithy answers: "If this book were to be read by a new Muggleborn, the title would merely intrigue them.
But there are too many here in the room who know what the object described in the title is, so it would spoil too much of the story.
I will explain some other time why the powers that helped me create these books decided to do so this way. For now, just focus on the chapters that are yet to come."
The Ravens seem to feel genuinely curious – which really is nothing new – and while I have my own curiosities, I comply with his request.
Yet before I can continue, I hear someone scoff and Malfoy mutters: "Regardless of the book's title, that chapter title is so predictable."
I really want to start arguing with him, yet James Potter beats me to it. "Ah, so caught on as well, did you cousin?"
And while some students seem shocked to hear that James Potter and Draco Malfoy are related, the blonde just stares.
"Well think about it, what would be the best topic to start a series of books about a hero other than the origins of the hero's title?"
"You really think we're finally going to learn what happened that night?" Someone in Hufflepuff asks, his face full of excitement.
Mr. Potter winces and apologizes as he says: "Not really, sorry. I think it's more likely that we'll hear about the people's reaction."
The lad seems somewhat disappointed as I read on.
Mr. and … very much.
Sounds of confusion and even a few of students feeling insulted are heard throughout the Great Hall as several students ask the same question in near-perfect sync:
"Who are those people?"
Lily Potter rolls her eyes and answers: "That would be the Muggle who I spent the first 15 years of my life with and who, until I was 14, called my sister.
Not a word from you, Albus. I didn't need your advice when I made that decision and I don't recall seeing you visiting my sister when looking after my son through the Viewing Orbs.
So you haven't been a part of my family life in over 2 decades and therefore, have no right to argue with me on this.
You can have your opinion, but it's based on closed-minded ideals, not reality and certainly not memories and evidence. Not like me."
Amazingly enough, Dumbledore doesn't seem willing to throw in the towel. "Surely you have seen enough in your –."
"This book, Albus Dumbledore, and every other book that describes that woman, is going to prove you wrong.
End of discussion.
Katie, read on, please."
I gladly comply.
They were … such nonsense.
"This woman sounds like she's the complete opposite of Mrs. Potter." Someone comments, the sound coming from the Hufflepuff table again.
"And that is one of the few things I can compliment her on. Her desperate desire to be nothing like me. Though at the same time, I find her reason behind it to be ridiculous at best, deplorable at worst."
Dumbledore had smiled for a moment when Mrs. Potter spoke up. But the end of her sentence quickly killed his smile dead.
A small part of me wonders how many chapters it is going to take for the man to give up on what are clearly delusions about these people.
Mr. Dursley … made drills.
"What are those?" Someone asks.
"Why should we care?" Malfoy snaps.
Master Yen Sid stands up and says: "I do believe that, throughout the reading, we will have many instances where someone feels curious about a described object or event.
I believe it best if those, who believe they might experience this, takes out some writing equipment and keep it at the ready.
Then, at the end of every day, we will chose a couple of people who will be able to take the writers of these instances apart and explain this to them.
After all, there might be Muggle things that Purebloods might be curious about and there will probably be magical things that Muggleborn students might be curious about.
Does anyone disagree?"
Malfoy, for no reason whatsoever, seems to feel personally insulted when the Master mentioned that there might be Purebloods curious about the Muggle world.
Yet while he clearly shows this on his face, he keeps his mouth shut and just glowers at the man while others nod in agreement.
He was … the neighbors.
"They sound pleasant." Someone on the Slytherin Table snorts. Harry rolls his eyes and says: "To put it simply.
I wouldn't think of ever letting the Death Eaters who are currently in Azkaban loose on those Muggles, that would be too cruel.
But at the same time I would be only too happy to let every Prankster in Hogwarts, my parents included, declare a prank war on those three.
And Mrs. Weasley, I know how your husband reacted last summer when the twins decided to give them a taste of that, so to say.
But I'm willing to bet 7.000 Galleons, that you'll agree with me and the twins by the end of the second chapter."
To say that you'd be able to hear a single strand of hair fall on the stone floor of the Great Hall would be an understatement.
Yet before any of the students who are more greedy than intelligent can take my best friend up on that offer, I quickly read on.
The Dursleys … boy anywhere.
"That's a very common opinion among parents." Mrs. Potter mutters. Mr. Potter laughs and says: "Yeah, though my parents sure had moments where they thought otherwise when I started Hogwarts." And Mr. Black laughs loudly as he declares the same.
Yet thanks to my personal studies – as I want to become a Mind Healer after leaving Hogwarts – I notice that there is a subtle note of derision and hatred hidden underneath the humor.
Silently I vow to myself to get close with the man, if only to ask him if he'd let me talk with him and train my skills.
The Dursleys … the Potters.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
It awes me – and seems to amaze Harry – to hear almost a quarter of the Great Hall crowd ask this question in near-perfect sync.
Mr. Potter rolls his eyes and Mrs. Potter asks if someone might be able to keep count of the amount of times that the Dursleys insult wizards.
"I'll do it." To all of our surprise it's actually Blaise Zabini, who takes the woman up on the offer. Mrs. Potter nods and I read on.
Mrs. Potter … to be.
"That's not even a word." A lot of Ravens sound genuinely insulted as they declare this.
"And yet it's perfect evidence of what I meant when I said that her reason is deplorable."
Even more Ravens nod, though I wonder if they genuinely get what she means.
The Dursleys … the street.
"Would you be able to dress yourself properly, Mr. Potter?"
I genuinely wonder how often the Ravens are going to be interrupting me.
Mr. Potter nods and explains that, while they were preparing for their wedding, Mrs. Potter took him and Sirius clothes shopping.
"We did do it over multiple trips, both to keep the Statute in mind and because it was just too dangerous to stay in one public area for too long back in those days.
Took us about 2, maybe 3 months, but we did both end up with an entire wardrobe made out of Muggle clothes by the end of it.
And we knew it was a bit risky, but we relied on the few Muggleborns not yet caught by Voldemort to keep ourselves and our wardrobe up to date after that."
"Unfortunately, because Petunia knows just fine how important we take our Statute of Secrecy, I know for a fact that that is not the reason behind her feeling that way.
If anyone wants to know what I mean, just keep my son's offer in mind. You'll see."
I glance to the side for a moment. I wonder what annoys Dumbledore more. All of these interruptions – or the Potters destroying his belief that they consider the Dursleys as family.
The Dursleys … like that.
"I know that it was the Powers that Be that created these books, but I genuinely wish they had listened to those desires."
Harry seems more than willing to let his parents speak for him as he is barely able to heard.
Though, as I read on, I wonder if that's because of the aforementioned reason – or because he doesn't want to make the Powers believe that he's ungrateful for the chance we've been given.
What amuses though is that, because a few students did hear him, they decided not to comment themselves, even though they looked ready to do so.
And Malfoy seems to have spotted this as he keeps quiet as well.
When Mr. … the country.
This line seems to make a lot of the younger years feel really intrigued and excited.
Yet Mr. Black, on the other hand, seems to find factors in the line that make him look down, a look of clear depression on his face.
And while Mr. and Mrs. Potter cuddle close with the man, I read on. It takes me no time at all to understand why.
The man never got a chance to grieve his friends or get over his losses. And now he's – more or less – being forced to re-experience the day after that, to him, dreaded night.
I genuinely feel for the man, yet I quickly compensate this depressing thought with the fact that the last book helped clear the man's name.
Mr. Dursley … the window.
"Wait, did someone actually try to send them a letter to inform them?" Mr. Lupin asks surprised. But Harry shakes his head and says:
"The kitchen is in the back of the house. My experiences with the owls back before my first prove that, if that owl had been meant for them, it would have managed to throw the letter in such a way it would've gone through the mail slot in the front door."
There seem to be a few Purebloods who are interested to hear about all of this. I look around and actually spot someone who seems to be drawing a blueprint of the house.
I genuinely wonder how long their interest will last and when it will be overwhelmed by their disgust and annoyance with these Muggles.
At the same time, as a Muggleborn myself, it always warms my heart to see my peers show interest in the side of this world that I was born into.
At half … four's drive.
"I know that the book described their belief that their son is perfect, but that's a bit excessive, don't you think?
I mean, how could they expect him to grow up right if they don't correct him?"
The girl's voice proves that she is strongly trying to just stay neutral and voice her confusion, nothing more.
And Harry keeps more or less the same polite tone as he says: "Trust me when I say that the future chapters will prove that they don't believe they even need to."
This seems to confuse a lot of students and seems to worry several of the adults seated at the Head Table. Even Madam Maxim looks worried at hearing this.
It was … a map.
"Eh, Minerva?" Mr. Potter asks.
The woman sighs and explains: "I was woken in the middle of the night the previous night. First by Hagrid, who told me that he had suddenly gotten orders from Dumbledore. Then, a few hours later, by several of my former lions.
I didn't want to believe half of what they told me, so I focused on what, while I was half asleep, I heard Hagrid tell me.
Then, when I woke up, I noticed how hectic things were among the student body. I was still in denial, so I checked with Pomona to see what she and the other staff had planned.
And when I felt confident that they were going to cancel classes for the day, I just decided to head out and check up on what I had heard Hagrid say."
Mr. Potter nods and I read on, feeling for my Head of House.
For a … or signs.
"How did you manage that, Minerva?" Mr. Black asks.
The woman smirks and answers: "There was a thick bush there."
Students all across the hall either laugh or hold back snorts.
Mr. Dursley … in cloaks.
"What's wrong with cloaks?"
"What's a traffic jam?"
A lot of Muggleborns seem to look at their Pureblood peers as if they're crazy for asking the first question.
Yet regardless of the agreement from before, Harry seems to have decided to answer the other question that had been asked.
"Who of you guys ever took the Floo to get to an International Event? I'm sure there was quite the cue to that that kept you from going for quite a while.
You can compare a traffic jam to that, but then with cars instead of Floo grates."
Several of the students around us seem amazed at how clearly the lad explained this. Others smile at him gratefully as I read on.
Mr. Dursley … of him!
"You'd think that someone who has a magical sister-in-law, he'd be able to recognize our kind." One of my dorm mates mutters.
Harry rolls his eyes and says: "One, Vernon is going to be making House Ravenclaw hate him on more than one occasion. Two, there is still the Statute of Secrecy to think of. And three, the book mentioned previously that he hadn't seen our people in several years."
My dorm mate looks a little embarrassed to be reminded of the last point. Yet I myself wonder why Harry was so indirect about his first point.
But then … be it.
"What would we need to be collecting money for?" Malfoy asks, a disgusted sneer on his face.
"To be honest, this is one of those few rare times that Dursley proves a saying I once heard being said be true;
Even the biggest idiot can have rare moments of intelligence and, sometimes even, genius."
Almost everyone stares at the woman, who shrugs and says: "I just think that, because of how much damage that Voldemort did to our country and especially to some specific groups and location.
It would've been smart and a good sign of compassion towards his victims if money had been collected together for those specific groups or people.
If nothing else, for the locations that were damaged the worst, that collected money could've made sure they were fixed that much faster.
And I do remember, from watching out for you guys from the Viewing Orb, that there were quite a few of you who grew more and more worried, the longer it took to repair certain stores and protected fields.
Those concerns could've been alleviated if the wizarding world just knew about this concept, which Muggles in England have known about since the 1960's."
It obviously disgusts Malfoy that Mrs. Potter can prove that there is something that Muggles did better than wizards.
Yet others, even a few Snakes, seem too intrigued and awed with the concept itself to share in his sentiments.
I notice that Fudge and a few other staff members are muttering with each other. I feel confident that they'll take up Mrs. Potter's unspoken challenge and read on.
The traffic … sped overhead.
"How is that even possible? I thought there were spells on the owl's feathers meant to prevent that from happening."
One of the Seventh Year Ravenclaws exclaims, looking both affronted and very confused.
Most of the adults who were around back then are now all quite red and Professor Flitwick decides to answer his Raven.
"There are, Mrs. Rendell. But that spell starts having trouble if more than 50 owls fly across the country in an hour.
That day – and the night before – as we later found out – it was over 200 owls an hour. Because of that, the spells collapsed upon themselves by 4AM in the morning."
A lot of students, especially the younger ones and a few of the foreign students, stare at the small teacher, who only shrugs.
And because I remind myself that this was after 11 years of war, I really can't blame the man for his reaction as I read on.
Most of … the bakery.
"So this guy actually decides to do something clever and healthy, goes for something that sounds like the minimum amount of exercise – and then he undoes the effects of that exercise by buying something that is probably chockfull of calories.
How does that make sense?"
This time Harry seems to decide to be less direct, perhaps in an effort not to come off as rude as he gently asks: "Remember how the book described him? Why do you think that was?"
What interests me – and probably Oliver even more – is that the younger girl seems to feel personally insulted with all this.
"I've heard about her. She got a reputation over winter when she was seen running around the Black Lake at around 7:30 in the morning.
Karkaroff actually got her in trouble with Snape and McGonagall, because he thought she was spying on Krum for Harry.
It apparently took her almost an hour and several students from both Hogwarts and Durmstrang vouching that they had seen her doing so all year."
I really hope Oliver didn't hear any of that as I read on.
At the same time I feel myself growing to respect the young girl.
He'd forgotten … son, Harry –"
The Potters – and several others – either groan or hit themselves on their heads.
"I still very much remember how all of us felt in those last few months of the war. So I can definitely understand that people are delirious in their need to celebrate.
But unless these people were Muggleborns who felt like getting some Muggle sweets to add to their celebration, I really don't get why they were there."
What amuses me is that the eyes of a few of the other adults widen, proving that they hadn't even thought about it like that.
A soft voice in the back of my head wonders how often something like this will happen again throughout the reading as I read on.
Mr. Dursley … being stupid.
Quite a few Purebloods write the word phone down. Yet as I look around, I notice Harry whispering something in Lea's ear.
Lea nods and Harry smiles at him. Yet then he returns back to his seat and I decide to wait and see what that might be about.
I read on.
Potter wasn't … the boy.
"The Potter name –!"
"Statute of Secrecy!"
Malfoy gives Mrs. Potter a really dirty glare and I wonder if this is because she interrupted him or because her argument is irrefutable.
It might … like that…
"Just wait a few books."
A few students gape as they hear the three Potters chorus this. Yet all those who know Harry just laugh at the hilarity of the situation.
A first year Lion asks which one and Harry kindly answers third. The lad pouts, having obviously hoped that it would be the next one.
Harry and I both send him another gentle smile and then I read on.
But all … the door.
"As if that's anything new. He does that almost every time he goes grocery shopping.
Which is basically the whole reason he doesn't go shopping anymore. He's actually been banned from three different grocery stores.
Amazingly enough that's more because he tried to argue that he was in the right and his actions were humiliating to both Petunia and the stores than for his actions by themselves.
At the same time, I can't help but wonder if Petunia has started taking Vernon with her now that I've been staying at Hogwarts for the majority of the year.
I really can't see her convincing Dudley to come with her, let alone see her thinking of doing so. Trust me, you'll see why I doubt that soon enough."
I'm sure some students are starting to think that Harry is just trying to tease and annoy them. But I know my best friend well enough to know that he's really trying to help them prepare.
Prepare for when the Muggles are going to show us all how terrible they can be. And because I'm Muggleborn myself, I know just how terrible Muggles can get.
"Sorry," he … almost fell.
"Was that you, Professor Flitwick?" A first year Raven asks.
The man shakes his head and says: "No, it wasn't, Miss Williams. I was at Hogwarts. We may have decided not to teach that day, but I felt determined to keep my students in line as much as their rights to celebrate allowed me to."
The young girl apologizes for assuming, but Professor Flitwick smiles and compliments her for her inquisitive nature.
He calls her a true Raven as I read on.
It was … happy day!"
"I get the feeling that that was either a Pureblood who had gone drunk with happiness and celebrating or a Muggleborn who had only recently lost people dear to him to Voldemort and was now feeling relieved that he wouldn't have to suffer more horrors."
Both theories are sound enough a lot of people nod in agreement to how much either seems to be possible.
And the … of imagination.
"How is that even possible?
I know he's a Muggle, but that would basically mean that he's against stuff like Disney movies and famous comics such as Superman and Spiderman and Captain America and The Hulk.
Surely that can't be true!"
Harry raises his head and his eyes to the roof and tells Lavender Brown to just wait. And just the tone of his voice proves one thing;
This is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this flaw in the Muggle's character.
As he … stern look.
I just want to make it clear that I am going to ignore the presence of McGonagall in the Fantastic Beasts series.
I'm going with what was said on Pottermore and in Order of the Phoenix when Umbridge was questioning McGonagall as High Inquisitor.
I can't imagine that, with this, I'd be angering a lot of OG Potter fans, but if I am, I apologize. This just works better for my own peace of mind.
"That can't have improved your mood or your impression of him, did it Minerva?" Professor Sinistra asks her colleague.
The lips of the woman in question are thin indeed and her famous stern look – which was just mentioned – is very much present.
"I will be honest, all of this – the way I learned about it all the previous night, what I observed as I watched the man's wife and son and the man's own behavior as well as everything that happened that night –
It made celebrating the end of the war very hard for me. In all honesty, while I might not have shown much of it these past few years, I never really celebrated the war ending.
I pretended, but in reality, each celebration just reminded me of all those we lost in the war. And that wasn't just alumni of my own House, but people like Charlus and Dorea, who I grew quite close to after my own graduation in 1954."
Many students and a lot of those seated at the Head Table with her send the woman looks of care and understanding.
And after Mr. Potter reassures her that his parents are really happy and have found a lovely place for themselves in Elysium, I read on.
Was this … "Well, Ted,"
"Oh wow, that's most impressive."
Everyone looks at Professor Sprout and she says: "That's Ted Solon. He was in Hufflepuff with me and was a Half-Blood who was mostly raised Magical.
He grew fascinated with Muggles thanks to our combined Muggleborn friends in the House and other Houses.
He got a crash course in various Muggle careers and yet he had a lot of trouble for many decades to get a job there.
Then one day, about 2 years before the war ended, he told me that he had just resigned himself to a job as an assistant at some kind of station.
I didn't really get what he was talking about as I hadn't kept up with Muggle culture like him. But I'm pretty sure that that's him."
My own eyes are wide as well as the notion that a Magically raised Half-blood who is in his early forties managed to make such a career jump in such a short time really awes me.
And while a few Muggleborns whisper further explanations in the ears of their Pureblood friends, I continue to read.
Said the … night tonight."
Most of the time I can accept it if a Pureblood proves that they took the Statute so seriously that they don't know much about the other side of our world.
But the sight of at least 4 dozen Purebloods writing something down – probably Bonfire Night – annoys me deeply.
"It's bad enough that they don't know about things that Muggles call pop-culture. But how disrespectful is it not to learn about both sides of history?"
I try not to let this annoyance sound through my voice as I read on.
Mr. Dursley … the Potters…
"I'm just going to say it now. If Vernon hadn't married a woman with a witch for a sister, he would not have been smart enough to put 2 and 2 together.
Regardless, the fact that someone with his closed-mindedness and his lack of wanting to know about anything that doesn't fit his worldview almost figured it all out –
We
Got
Lucky.
And I am not taking that back, Headmaster. If anything, out of respect for everything else that will soon be revealed, I'm keeping back on what I want to actually call that lot.
Though I'm also kind of doing so because I don't want my dirty mouth to humiliate or embarrass my family and House."
Dumbledore sends the boy a clearly disappointed frown. Part of me wonders how long it will take before the man will lose his temper.
This thought worries me more than the notion that we got this close to the Statute of Secrecy being shattered and our world being discovered.
Mrs. Dursley … throat nervously.
Harry raises his eyebrow at this and mutters: "Why did he do that? From what I can remember, Petunia didn't start paying attention to the news until I was around five years old.
He could've saved himself the trouble."
"Why would you want that?"
Someone asks. Harry shrugs and answers:
"Based on what we read so far, the fact that almost the entire has already come and gone.
I just don't think it would've made much difference with how they find out about the fact that I'd be left with them.
In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that someone is going to just leave me there sometime during the night.
But, as much as it's become obvious that I have trust issues with the staff, even I can't see either of them leaving an infant on the stone doorway at the start of November."
I really want to agree with the lad, but then I notice how his parents are trying to hide grins of strange victory as they look at their son.
This worries me, yet then I get why this is.
Harry doesn't know that this is exactly how he was left there that night, but his parents do. And they know what that'll soon mean for Dumbledore's reputation.
"He's going to get roasted." I think to myself as I quickly return to the book.
"Er – Petunia, … a sister.
"I don't know if I should feel offended in name of my friends or for the fact that I usually do the same when it comes to my mum and the rest of that side of my family."
A few students laugh at this and more snicker when Mr. Potter tells Mr. Black: "For the latter. You're going to get enough other reasons to be angry with these people and at least you're trying this for the right reasons."
I look at the Head Table and notice that quite a few teachers want to reprimand the laughing students for laughing at the retort.
Thankfully they refrain themselves and so I just read on.
"No," she … ask me."
"The grandfather that babysat her and let her stay over for the better part of our younger years was named Harry.
I spoke with him a few days after I heard all of this and after I settled in back in Elysium. He told me that, as much as he had loved Petunia growing up, they had grown apart before his death in 1972.
He told me that it was both because he didn't have the required mindset, patience or desire to keep her from growing up the way she did and because she just didn't want to admit that she was growing into someone who, and I quote, he just couldn't love anymore."
I turn my head and thanks to a few lessons from the twins, I can read the lips of Blaise Zabini as he tells Malfoy: "She's trying to dig Dumbledore's grave deeper and deeper. Just enjoy that fact and enjoy the show later."
The look on Malfoy's face proves that he feels he'll have a hard time with this. Yet he still gives his year mate a short nod as I read on.
"Oh, yes," … bear it.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!"
Everyone turns to look Pansy Parkinson as she shrilly shrieks: "Who does this Muggle think he is? How dare he –."
But then Chirithy shoots up from where he is, once again, resting on top of Ventus' head and declares: "Not even the Powers that Be would ever be arrogant enough to declare that they can judge someone else for their thoughts.
Their actions, yes, not their thoughts."
This effectively silences the shrieking girl. And by the looks of some of the students around her, they seem very relieved with that.
At the same time I'm sure there are a few in Gryffindor who feel amused that Parkinson is upset with the fact that, begrudgingly, she almost had to compare her own thoughts with those of Dursley.
I still don't like much of what I have learned about these Muggles – both from Harry these past few years and from the books – but at the same time I silently wonder and hope that this might stop wizards from believing they're that different from Muggles.
The Dursleys … affect them…
"If people had taken the previous 7 years into account when they made their plans for my son's future, he's right, it wouldn't have.
Just a shame that this wasn't the only instance in that week where the experiences of the previous decade were just outright ignored."
I look up and notice McGonagall hiss at Dumbledore. And like a few rare occasions from the previous years, she sounds so much like her Animagus form, it startles Dumbledore dumb and silent.
How very … at all.
Harry's eyes widen as I read this. He turns to the Head Table and coldly states: "I meant what I said. I really, genuinely, didn't think that what I said had been what had happened.
I guess the only response I can give to this is – good luck. Good luck regaining my respect – and that of your peers."
McGonagall sends an apologetic look at both the Potters and her colleagues. Dumbledore, on the other hand, just calmly looks ahead.
The man's attempt at looking unfazed doesn't fool me for a second as I read on.
A man … least twice.
"Wow, I don't know what to think of that description. I mean, I'm sure Death Eaters have described the man's face and aged looks with a lot more insulting terms, yet I'm sure the complimentary description of his robes is probably something his fans would say about him."
"Get used to that." Chirithy tells Lee and he goes on: "It's the perfect way to describe the neutrality of the Powers that Be. Though of course, once Harry is old enough to describe people himself, it might not always stay that way."
This statement creates a lot of mixed reactions. Quite a few students – especially those who aren't close to Harry – seem to get excited. Yet a lot of those seated close to me share looks that are a mix of humor and concern.
This man's … have known."
"I genuinely wondered where you had gone, my dear.
You had only told Pomona that you were going out, nothing more. And I didn't know that Hagrid had contacted you before leaving, so I genuinely had no idea that you had been there all day."
Something utterly amazing happens.
Instead of turning to apologize to her boss and oldest friend, the woman turns to the other side of the table and says: "I'm genuinely sorry, Pomona dear. I didn't mean to worry you that day."
Everyone stares at the woman as Professor Sprout reassures her. She turns to face the Great Hall at large and states:
"I was in the wrong that night. In more than one way, I was in the wrong. And anyone who tries to tell me otherwise – especially anyone who has the same mark on their own record – will surely feel my ire and my true nature."
For some reason, as I keep reading, I feel like I should keep those last two words in mind. Yet as I read on, I fail to notice the way Master Yen Sid's lips twitch.
He found … she asked.
I'm sure quite a few people around me noticed that this description is much more complimentary than the description Dumbledore received.
For a moment I wonder if Chirithy was being entirely honest. Yet at the same time, thanks to what happened earlier, I feel like Professor McGonagall deserves the more gracious portrayal.
"My dear … way here."
This actually makes a lot of staff members turn to the Headmaster with frowns and angry glares. "Albus, I distinctly remember you telling me that you had been away from the castle all day, because you were busy ensuring Mr. Potter's safety for the years before he'd come to Hogwarts.
How exactly did visiting those parties accomplish this goal, if I may ask?"
Dumbledore, like before, keeps looking forward stoically, stubbornly ignoring Professor Flitwick's inquiring stare.
I really don't know what possesses the man to believe that his silence doesn't damage his already fragile reputation, yet I decide to just read on.
I ignore how this makes Dumbledore sends me a small smile.
Professor McGonagall … much sense."
"Apologies for pointing this out, Professor. But it almost sounds as if you're being as insensitive to others and your respect for them as they were in their respect for the Statute."
Professor McGonagall winces and grimaces.
Yet then she stands up and loudly states: "I would like to make the following declaration. I will attempt to, honorably, accept any criticism sent my way if one of you notices a flaw in my behavior or my character.
However, please understand that I am quite a proud woman, both by birth and by nature. So if a described situation is tense or dangerous, I may lash out before accepting said criticism.
I will attempt to use the events described in these books to improve myself as a person and a teacher, but I can't guarantee that this will happen without hiccups or trouble."
I put the book down as I hear my Head of House speak. And when she finishes, I start applauding in pride for her words.
Naturally my entire House follows my example in only seconds and the applause of the foreign students sounds to most sincerely share in our pride for our Head of House.
The woman sits down with the small smile that she rarely shows and once the applause has died down, I take back the book.
"You can't … eleven years."
"You know, in a way, our war against Xehanort lasted just as long." Riku mutters. Master Yen Sid nods and says:
"That is correct, Riku. Though, unfortunately for your peers from this world, we were blessed with a break that took several years."
Riku nods and I look around. Thankfully, no one seems to fault or blame the teens for this fact. I read on, still intrigued with their pasts.
"I know … fond of."
"Albus, if I had to name one weakness of yours, it's your absolutely terrible way of trying to break tension – well, anywhere."
At first Dumbledore seems to feel genuinely insulted. Yet then he realizes that Professor Flitwick was jesting with the man while reprimanding him.
This too brings out a smile from the man in the middle of the Head Table.
"No, thank … name: Voldemort."
At this Mr. Potter angrily stands up and glares at Dumbledore with incredible fury. And his words are as destructive as a forest fire as he snaps:
"And you should've stopped that effort after my parents were burned to death with Fiendfyre after becoming the first victims of a Taboo that no one knew Voldemort had put on his name.
I said it before and I'll say it again; the death of every person who died because you convinced them of this is on your hands.
Do you disagree, Lord Hades?"
Dumbledore's eyes widen and widen even further when, in a blaze of black shadows, Lord Hades appears right in front of the center of the Head Table.
And I don't need to look at anything other than the orange flames on top of the God's head to know that he shares his Patron's fury.
"You're out of luck, pall. Because with the war against that Cheater or without it, you only have four years left to live, certain – preconditions, shall we say – come into play.
One of them being that I get to personally judge you for every serious crime – aka, rape, slaughter, murder, heavy destruction of public or private property – right here, right now.
Now, it is true that you're only guilty of indirect murder as you weren't the one to aim the deadly curse, wand or weapon their way.
But I still have a major bone to pick with anyone who willfully commits an act where they know either they or someone else will try to do my job for me.
So, congratulations, you prick. You earned yourself 225 years in Level 3 Punishment. Five years for every life that was taken by your belief that you could convince people to be this stupid and Level 3, because it's still indirect murder.
You would've been sentenced to Level 2 if either you had led more than 50 people to their deaths this way or used some kind of force to convince people to be this stupid.
But considering that you didn't use anything similar to a Confundus spell or something, I'm forced to keep you in Level 3."
The God vanishes again after saying this, yet the unspoken threat of for now hangs heavily in the air. It makes it somewhat hard for me to read on.
Professor McGonagall … never have."
"And up until this point, he always said the name while behind Hogwarts' wards. Voldemort's spell did detect this, but after his fiasco/victory at Potter Manor, he didn't feel confident to make a similar attempt at the school.
What's worse is that you always said the name – hours after some Ministerial official or even a squad of Aurors had come to meet with you. So none of the Death Eaters who had responded to the spell going off ever got arrested."
I wonder what inspired Chirithy to be so open in her/his accusations of the Headmaster.
"It's to prepare those who might still harbor some loyalty to the man." I hear someone whisper.
I send the empathetic little being – who flies quite close to the candles near the ceiling – a grateful smile before I read on.
"Only because … was true.
"How did you learn about it, Professor. I thought you had left early in the morning."
Professor McGonagall nods and explains:
"I had. But even at 5:30 half the school was already up. And while it was around 8:20 that I arrived at Privet Drive, I had, for an hour before meeting with Pomona, hidden myself in my cat form to prowl the school and, at the time, attempting to avoid the gossip.
Unfortunately, this worked against me. A lot of students just didn't spot me, so they spoke openly. And quite a few parents, who came to visit and tell their kids, did the same.
It was hearing their callous way of speaking of my two Lions that made me meet with Pomona and leave the Castle."
The student who had asked the question seems to regret asking. He winces and apologizes. Yet Professor McGonagall shakes her head and I read on.
Dumbledore, however … the Potters.
"For the few of you who might be curious as to why, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait until the Fifth book.
Unfortunately Dumbledore, who is one of the few people who knows the full reason, has yet to see fit to tell Harry."
There had actually been a few students who had softly whispered this question to their peers. Now both the students asking the question and their peers glare at Dumbledore.
"James, surely you don't believe –."
"I believe that Harry has proven himself to be trustworthy, reliable, strong, responsible and someone who can work well with others, both adults and his peers.
Because of this, I believe that he can be told, that those who trust him and want him to rely on them will be willing to help him cope with the truth and that he will keep it quiet from the wrong, dangerous or hurtful ears.
And most of all, I believe that the end of the next three books as well as what we read three days ago proved and will prove me right."
The more this happens, the more it becomes obvious that Dumbledore is hiding a serious case of rage behind a simply disappointed frown.
I wonder if this frown is still able to fool those truly loyal to the man and silently feel for them as I continue to read.
The rumor … they're – dead."
"A toast to Lord Hades. A toast of honor and gratitude for him undoing this terrible and untimely error in the tapestry of time."
Sirius declares loudly, for which I am very grateful as it shortly became very difficult to read what I had to read.
I thank the man with a nod while many across the hall join the man in his toast.
Dumbledore bowed … he's gone."
"It was my sense of disbelief over how something that unrealistic could be possible that drove me from the castle.
I kept having this voice in my head that kept trying to rationalize what I was hearing. That kept reminding me that, while Mr. Potter was the son of two very powerful former students of mine, he was too young to be as trained and talented as they were.
It was that contradiction to how such a thing could be possible that kept fueling my disbelief. And in the end, my desire to leave the castle."
Many students, especially Ravens, nod in understanding. Secretly, I know that, on more than one occasion, Harry had wished that they themselves had applied this logic to their treatment and judgment of him throughout the years.
Dumbledore nodded … never know."
"Priori Incantatem on Godric's Hollow would've told you all you'd need to know." Mr. Potter grumbles to himself.
I look at my two closest friends. The looks on their faces proves that I was right to do so. They're going to roast their parents for overlooking the obvious.
Professor McGonagall … left now."
"Wow, the amount of families you just insulted right there."
Mr. Potter feels genuinely amused as he says this.
"Surely –."
"I guess you can consider yourself lucky that Andy isn't here to hear that. Or Augusta for that matter, seeing as how she was dad's goddaughter."
This makes Neville stare at Mr. Potter, who grins at him and says: "Dad was born in 1910 and your gran was born in 1933. He was already in his early 20's when she was born and she took to him a lot when she was little.
Or so he told me."
All the while that this happens, Dumbledore is clearly grimacing. Obviously the man has to give Mr. Potter right. He really is lucky that neither women heard him say this, even if it was said more than a decade ago.
"You don't … his name!"
"And instead of working together with the Goblins to make sure that either the books remain faithful to the truth or that the authors accept the terms of admitting that they are writing fiction –
You only write these Muggles a letter and leave it at that. Really, why anyone is surprised at how callous you were about all this all those years ago when you have been continuing that callous behavior in the years that passed since."
I look around and notice a lot of students rubbing the backs of their necks, obviously feeling uncomfortable with not realizing this themselves.
And while I know that this is an unfortunate consequence of the man's words – which were obviously aimed at Dumbledore and not at them – I read on.
"Exactly." Said … take it?"
"I really don't know how to take that statement.
As an admission that you yourself are too lazy to feel like raising my son with the respect for us and our sacrifice as a way to counter that fame.
Or as an insult to all of our friends that they're not loyal enough to us to raise our son with said respect for said sacrifice.
Or if you're just going for the first the best excuse to convince others of a bad idea."
Dumbledore actually has the gall to ask when the criticism will end. James Potter's answer is absolutely destructive:
"When you start acting like the Albus Dumbledore you claim to your peers that you are."
Professor McGonagall … said Dumbledore.
Amazingly enough the Half-Giant seems to feel more conflicted about the Headmaster's declaration of confidence than he feels insulted about his coworker's declaration of doubt.
Professor McGonagall still apologizes for her words, though, and the man waves her off, somewhat absentmindedly.
I can only imagine how much the man must be at war with himself and everything he has believed in for decades as I read on.
I'm not … of blankets.
"If there was ever a perfect way to describe Hagrid's incredible strength and his even-more incredible caring heart – right there!"
"That whole description subtly hints at Hagrid's actual nature – and then it hints at how careful he really is with those weaker and younger than him."
Many people smile, either at Hagrid or at the twins. The two make a few of them even laugh as they mock-bow to Hagrid as I read on.
"Hagrid," said … over Bristol."
"It was around this point that we got to get our Viewing orbs to work. We had been lucky enough to be led through Charon's waiting room with respectable speed and it took us some time to accept that my sacrifice had, at the least, saved Harry's life.
We had needed the better part of the afternoon to get to Elysium, find a place to our liking that was close to mum and dad's and getting our Viewing orbs delivered to our new home.
"Needless to say that statement of Hagrid having Siri's motorcycle and having used it to take Harry to Dumbledore basically undid all of our attempts to calm down and settle in.
In fact, we didn't fully settle down until halfway through February the following year. It was just – too hard to accept how people had reacted to our sacrifice, our deaths and our final wishes."
I don't think that anyone – even if only for their own reasons – can fault Mrs. Potter for her statement. And a few teachers lower their heads as I read on.
Dumbledore and … in handy.
I'm not going to do Hagrid's accent. I'd probably just botch the writing style or mess up my story. Sorry, Hagrid fans, but this is my attempt NOT to insult or belittle Hagrid.
"To be honest, Sirius. I – I owe you an apology. More than one, really. Not just for that night and the day after, but for stuff I said about you after you escaped."
Yet Mr. Black seems to have more and more trouble not losing himself to his traumatized memories the longer this chapter takes.
And so, in an attempt to work towards my dream job, I stand up and loudly declare: "No more interruptions. I am finishing this chapter."
A few students look shocked, a couple send me dirty glares, yet it's the grateful smile Mr. Black sends me that matters.
I have … wounded dog.
Mr. Black sends Hagrid an amused grin at this, yet he thankfully respects my decision. He keeps quiet, which allows me to read on.
"Shhh!" hissed … front door.
I notice Professor McGonagall fighting the urge to honor my request. I send a quick look at Mr. Black, who gives me a grateful nod.
I give the professor a short nod.
"I apologize again, Hagrid. I was definitely done with others risking the Statute by then, thanks to those news reports.
But my true reason for my callous, careless response was because, by that time, I was just desperate to get back to my chambers so I could grieve and cry myself."
Hagrid just smiles at the woman in understanding and I tell the hall at large:
"I didn't want interruptions for the sake of Mr. Black. But he and I both noticed Professor M'Gonagall's desire to speak.
He proved to me that he was doing okay and I silently gave Professor McGonagall the go ahead. I'll read on now."
He laid … gone out.
"We actually didn't return to our new homes for a fortnight after that. We had to remain on the paths between Elysium and Punishment to fight anyone willing to take us on and help us calm down for all that time.
Just because, for the full minute that we watched that take place, neither of us spotted any of you pulling your wand to ensure our son's safety through the night."
"James, I was under the impression that the Blood wards would settle overnight and would ensure Harry's safety from then on."
At this argument from the Headmaster, William growls: "I will gladly teach anyone willing to learn why that is a deadly bad idea."
The word deadly seems to scare off a few students who had looked interested before. Yet others keep looking intrigued.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, together with a few other staff members, had whitened at the man's word choice before I read on.
"Well," said … in reply.
"Albus, there really is a time and place for your famous disappointed grandfather act. And with one of your peers, who has been your equal on many a ground – Transfigurations being key among them – it really is neither."
Dumbledore turned … who lived!"
I close the book and lie it down on the table in front of me.
And simply because of how much damage it did to both people's belief in Harry's fame and in Dumbledore, it feels as if a blanket of pressure and expectation has laid itself over the entire Great Hall, the pressure itself at its strongest where the book lies for all to see.
I chance a glance at where the Potters are seated and instantly regret it. The three of them might not say anything, but they don't need to. Their faces say enough;
This has only just begun.
Hey everyone,
I've got an important question for you all.
I'm thinking of leaving most of PS/SS alone when it comes to the Italic lines. To be honest, I want to start on the whole AD!Bashing in the book when, in canon, Harry realizes that Dumbledore had been testing him.
I may still add Italic bits of text where I consider it appropriate, but I kind of want to start playing with the canon-somewhat-innocent Harry.
Or at least more innocent than I made him out to be in Preventing.
Let me know,
Venquine1990
PS. In my head-canon for this story McGonagall graduated in 1954 and Sprout in 1956. So, by this point, 1995, they are 59 and 57 years old respectively.