MoP
Harry Potter and the Myriad of Possibilities: Betrayal
Chapter 3: Ravenclaw versus Slytherin
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, or JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.
A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Langmore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
Lochaber.
February 2, 12:16 GMT.
"Are you coming to the library, Hank?" Hermione asked as she and Ron began packing their things.
"Yeah, but don't wait for me," Hank replied, his gaze fixed on Remus, who was calmly gathering his lesson materials.
He waited until the classroom was nearly empty, then approached Remus' desk. "Uncle Remus, have you got a minute?"
"Of course," Remus replied, stopping his packing up for a moment and moving to sit in his chair. "What can I help you with?"
"I'm sure you remember our conversation about the Dementors?"
"I do," replied the older man. "You thought you might be able to come up with an alternative defence?"
Hank nodded. "I think I've got something – or at least part of something – that I'd like to test out."
"Really?" asked Remus, intrigued.
"Cho Chang was able to find some useful information for me in her family's archives and I've put something together… maybe not the best version, but it's something…"
Remus paused for a moment, then reached for his diary. "We probably shouldn't use a real Dementor…" he mused, leafing through the slim volume. "But there might be another option. Can you meet me here at eight tomorrow?"
"I'll be here."
February 3, 20:00 GMT.
The classroom was empty when Hank arrived, but Remus arrived a few minutes later, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto his desk.
"What's that?" Hank asked curiously.
"A Boggart," Remus replied as he stripped off his cloak. "Do you know what that is?"
"A telepathic shapeshifter," Hank replied after a moment's thought. "Possibly related to the Martian Ma'alefa'ak."
"Really?"
"Maybe," Hank confirmed. "It has the power to induce fear in people, and Boggarts change shape to scare their targets."
"Interesting..." Remus said. "Given what I know about you, I suspect that the Boggart will turn into a Dementor, and you can practise your spell on it."
"And if it doesn't turn into a Dementor?"
"Then I'll handle it," Remus promised, "And I can store him in my office when we're not using him… there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."
"Okay… that's good," Hank commented and settled into a comfortable stance. "Let's give it a go. Bi khamgiin kharankhui buzar muugiin deegüür gerlee gereltüüldeg... uchir ni kharankhui züils Nogoon döliin gerliig tesverlej chadakhgüi!"
After a moment, an emerald flame sparked into life, quickly growing into a grapefruit-sized fireball as Hank fed energy into it. Hank eyed it for a moment, then drew the energy back into himself, extinguishing the fireball, and then looked up at Remus, who was eyeing him a little nervously.
"That was… impressive," Remus said after a moment, his voice wavering a little.
"Thanks," Hank said, then paused. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Remus assured him. "It's just the colour… there's only one spell in our style that's that colour…"
Hank was about to ask which one he meant, then a memory occurred to him. "And it's a lethal one."
"Avada Kedavra," Remus confirmed. "The Killing Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses."
Hank thought about it for a moment. "The chant I used to construct the spell is linked to the Green Flame of the Starheart… so the colour is baked in… but I might be able to change it in the final version."
"That might be best," Remus suggested. "Shall we get started?"
"Let's," Hank agreed and dropped back into his stance.
Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.
A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Hank, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Hank, drawing a deep, rattling breath.
A wave of piercing cold broke over him. "Bi khamgiin kharankhui buzar muugiin deegüür gerlee gereltüüldeg..." Hank chanted. "Uchir ni kharankhui züils Nogoon döliin gerliig tesverlej chadakhgüi!"
The green flame sparked into life and blossomed into life, but the classroom and the dementor were dissolving… Hank was falling again through thick white fog, and the woman's voice was louder than ever, echoing inside his head.
Hank jerked back to life. He was lying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. He didn't have to ask what had happened. "Sorry," he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down behind his glasses.
"Are you all right?"
"More or less," Hank replied as he leaned against a nearby desk and pulled himself onto his feet.
"Here," Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time. In fact, I would have been astounded if you had."
"It's getting worse," Hank muttered, biting off the Frog's head. "I could hear her louder that time, and a man… I'm guessing it was Him… Voldemort."
Lupin looked paler than usual. "Hank, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand…"
"I do!" said Hank fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I won't leave myself open to attack like that!"
"All right then…" said Lupin, clearly somewhat conflicted, but moved to grip the box lid again.
"Ready," said Hank, concentrating hard.
"Go!" said Lupin, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Hank…
"Bi khamgiin kharankhui buzar muugiin deegüür gerlee gereltüüldeg...!" Hank yelled. "Uchir ni kharankhui züils Nogoon döliin gerliig tesverlej chadakhgüi!"
White fog obscured his senses… big, blurred shapes were moving around him… and a new voice came in, a man's voice, shouting, panicking… then the sounds of someone stumbling from a room… a door bursting open to a cackle of high-pitched laughter…
"Hank! Hank, wake up…!"
Lupin was tapping Hank hard on the face. This time it was a minute before Hank understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor. "I heard my dad this time…" Hank mumbled. "He tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it…" Hank suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, trying to give himself a moment to recover.
"Listen, Hank, perhaps we should leave it here for tonight?" Remus suggested. "These are dangerous forces we're dealing… powerful magic…"
"No!" said Hank. He turned to face the packing case once more, dropping into his stance. "Just once more…!"
Remus sighed, a look on his face clearly saying that this was against his better judgment. "Ready? Concentrating hard? All right… go!" He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the dementor rose out of it; the room fell into cold and darkness again…
"Bi khamgiin kharankhui buzar muugiin deegüür gerlee gereltüüldeg... uchir ni kharankhui züils Nogoon döliin gerliig tesverlej chadakhgüi!"
The screaming inside Hank's head had started again. Except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio: softer and louder and softer again… and he could still see the dementor. it had halted as if not sure what to do. Then Hank felt a tingling sensation and a bright green filled his vision.
"Riddikulus!" roared Lupin, springing forward.
There was a loud crack, and Hank's dim, wavering fireball vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he'd just run a marathon, and felt his legs shaking.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus forcing the boggart – now in the form of the full moon – back into the packing case with his wand
"Excellent!" Lupin said, striding over to where Hank sat. "Excellent, Hank! That was a good start!"
Hank smiled a little. "I think I've had enough for one day."
"I agree," said Lupin firmly. "Here…" He handed Hank a large bar of Honeydukes's Best Chocolate. "Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?"
Hank's sensible self – which sounded rather like his grandparents – briefly considered backing out, but he agreed.
Smallville.
February 5, 05:16 CST
Linda Lang jolted awake, the lingering image of a magnificent barn owl, wings outstretched against the crescent moon, then crumpling, a silent, feathered meteor plummeting through the skeletal branches of the winter trees before crashing into the undergrowth below still vivid in her mind. The impact reverberated not just in her dream, but in the very core of her being, a visceral echo that left her breathless and trembling.
"That was a weird dream…" Linda said to herself, then paused, considering the desperation and urgency of the vision. "Hang on… that wasn't a dream, that was a call for help."
She sat up in her bed, the chill of the February night seeping through the thin cotton sheets. Her green eyes, usually bright with mischief, now clouded with concern. Slipping from the bed, she pulled on a faded green t-shirt and a pair of blue leggings. Then, with a focused concentration that made her forehead prickle, she willed her puffer jacket to rise from its hook downstairs, floating silently into her room and settling gently onto her bed. She shrugged it on, the warmth a welcome comfort against the growing intensity of her unease.
The window slid open smoothly and she eased herself out, the frigid air a sharp slap against her skin. The dream had shown her the approximate location… the forest to the north of Morley Reservoir and Little Wolf Hotel, now she had to get there, and as quickly as possible. "Gib mir Flügel!" Linda demanded, then launched herself into the night, blood-red wings of magical force manifested and lifted her into the air.
As she approached the forest's edge, the faint psychic signal died out. The scent of damp earth, decaying leaves and snow filled her nostrils. She landed softly, the impact barely disturbing the thin layer of snow and frost and looked around, trying to compare her surroundings with her visions. After a moment, she was confident enough to set off through the trees towards her target.
But when she got there, she got a surprise.
Because instead of the black-winged, white-faced bird that she was expecting, there was instead a painfully thin black girl, her hair heavily matted lay unconscious in the snow. Linda hurried over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
The girl stirred, her eyes fluttering open to expose amber cat-like orbs. "Who? Where?"
"Hi, I'm Linda," Linda told her, and helped the girl to sit up. "Did you just fall out of the sky?"
The girl blinked, shaking her head to try and clear it. "Yeah, I think so… I was trying to get some sleep, but I felt claustrophobic, so I…"
"You transformed into a bird and went for a fly," Linda finished for her.
"How do you know?" the girl asked, panicking a little.
"You're not the only girl with special powers around here," Linda told her and moved a hand away from her. "Feuerkugel!" A red flame sparked into life and lit the area around them. Then a thought occurred to Linda. "You're Savannah… Savannah Freeman, aren't you?"
"Your powers again?" Savannah asked, relaxing a little.
"Not directly," Linda admitted. "Actually, I visited your grandmother a few months ago and she mentioned she'd lost touch with you and your parents, so I offered to get some of my friends to look into it… unfortunately it took a while, but that's how Alpha Squad found you."
"Thanks for that," Savannah said with a smile, then shivered a little.
"You're welcome," Linda replied, scanning the area to try and decide where the nearest bit of shelter was. "It's always nice to pay it forward."
"Pay what?"
"Being rescued," Linda told her, then indicated a path through the trees. "The Team's Beta Squad – led by Artemis, who I think you've met…"
Savannah nodded.
"... rescued me from a chaos cult a couple of years back after they murdered my parents and were going to sacrifice me in a magical ritual."
"Really?"
Linda nodded. "I moved here to stay with my mom's sister and her son, after I recovered," Linda said, then fished inside her shirt and pulled out her amulet. "I couldn't speak properly for a while afterwards and Zatanna created this for me to help. After a while, it turned out that I had real psychic powers and magic now, so M'gann… you might know her as Superwoman?" she paused, then continued after a blank look from Savannah. "… took me as her protegee and she, Looker and Zatanna have been taking turns to train me."
They settled into a comfortable silence and walked for a few minutes until they came upon a small shed. "This'll do," Linda said, pointing at the door with her free hand. "Sesam, öffne dich!"
The door clicked open, and Linda walked inside, extinguishing her fire once she'd found the shed's light switch. Savannah paused. "Are you sure it's okay?"
Linda sensed that she was worried about trespassing, which wasn't surprising given her recent history. "No, it's fine. The only reason I had to unlock it magically is I don't have my own keys."
Savannah cautiously stepped inside, still tense and wary. "You own this?"
"No," Linda admitted as she pulled a couple of blankets off a shelf. "But I'm friends with the owner. As long as we don't wreck the place, he won't mind."
Savannah relaxed and accepted one of the blankets and settled down on a crate.
Within a few minutes, the two girls had drifted into sleep.
08:00 CST.
Linda blinked, her eyes quickly adjusting to the light in her eyes. A tall figure, his head framed by a crown of dreadlocks, silhouetted against the harsh glare, stood in the doorway, when he stepped forward into the light, she recognised him as Marcus Henderson, one of the hotel's night guards, his face etched with concern.
"Girls? Are you all right?" His voice was low, but firm.
Linda sat up, pulling Savannah with her.
"What time is it, Marcus?" Linda whispered as she got to her feet.
"A little after eight, Miss Lang. What happened?"
"Savannah's another one of my rescues," Linda replied with a self-deprecating smile as she helped the other girl to her feet.
George chuckled and nodded. "Let's get you over to the hotel where it's nice and warm," he declared, then lead them to his quad bike, the powerful machine humming a low, comforting drone against the silence of the early morning.
The short ride to the hotel felt like a journey into a different world. The snow crunched softly beneath the bike's tires, and the cold air whipped at their faces, as Marcus escorted them in through a side door and into the manager's office.
"Lucas is in a meeting," Rebecca declared as she rose from the desk to greet them. "Can I look you both over?"
Both girls consented, she examined them carefully and efficiently, then pronounced them free of any new injuries and proscribed warm drinks and rest, then left the room to deal with a complaint at the front desk.
After the girls had had their drinks and Savannah had been provided with some dry clothes, Marcus offered to drop them both back at their houses on his way home, which both agreed to.
The drive to Savannah's grandmother's log cabin was a short hop across the dam. As they approached, Marcus spoke up. "Maybe it's none of my business, but there's a hair salon in Central City – Studio 16 – that specialises in our kind of hair, they can make it look great. Might make you feel better too."
Savannah, a little wary of the large man, simply nodded, her eyes downcast, but Linda made a mental note of it.
As Marcus pulled up to her aunt's, Linda felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. She thanked Marcus, he assured her he was just doing his bit and watched until she was inside.
February 5, 11:16 GMT.
Cho sped across danced across the pitch, her nimble movements a blur of blue and silver. Her eyes, usually sparkling with confidence, were narrowed in concentration, a fierce determination etched on her face. She was clearly on the hunt for the Golden Snitch.
The tension mounted, palpable in the biting air. The game was a rollercoaster of spectacular moments and shocking blunders. The crowd roared, shifting between cheers and gasps as the score fluctuated. Hank gripped the edge of the bench, his knuckles white. Even Ron, Hermione, and Neville, who initially seemed less enthralled, were now completely captivated by the unfolding drama.
Then, with a flash of gold and a piercing shriek from the crowd, the Snitch appeared. Both Cho Chang and Theresa Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, spotted it simultaneously. They were neck and neck, a breathtaking chase unfolding high above the pitch. The crowd held its breath, a collective gasp escaping as the two Seekers engaged in a dazzling aerial duel, their broomsticks a blur of motion.
In a heart-stopping climax, Theresa Higgs, with a desperate lunge, caught the Snitch. The roar from the Slytherin supporters was deafening, a wave of sound that washed over the stunned silence of the Ravenclaw fans.
"Theresa Higgs catches the Snitch and Slytherin wins… a hundred-and-seventy points to a hundred-and-twenty!" declared Lee Jordan with somewhat less enthusiasm than his last two pronouncements.
As the Slytherin team celebrated their narrow victory, Hank, Ron, Hermione, Neville and the rest of the Gryffindor team began to make their way down towards the castle. The image of Cho Chang's disappointed face stayed with Hank long after the cheers had faded into the background.
