Chapter Three
Later that evening, as the headmaster and his favourite student sat on the drawing room's maroon sofa and discussed the future, the Floo fireplace roared into life.
"Albus, I have some very bad news!"
Harry looked worried, while the headmaster's heart sunk. Somehow, he didn't think this piece of bad news involved Madam Bones misplacing her monocle…
He wearily trudged over.
"What is it, Amelia?"
"Lucius Malfoy has escaped!"
Harry's breath hitched, while the headmaster looked crestfallen.
"I can only blame myself, Amelia. I knew how slippery Lucius was…"
Amelia shook her head in disgust.
"I don't want to hear that, Albus", she curtly replied. "We were all responsible for making sure that bastard didn't try anything, and we all failed!"
"Very well, Amelia", the headmaster intoned. "Where could he have fled?"
The hard-nosed woman groaned.
"Who knows, Albus? Lucius has the resources to settle anywhere in the world. He could be in South Africa, for all we know!"
The headmaster sighed.
"And Narcissa and Draco?" he asked with genuine concern. Little though he thought of Lucius, he did not dislike Draco. Unpleasant though his views were, Draco was still a boy, and Dumbledore believed that children were innately good.
"They were also missing."
Harry listened intently. He wasn't the most perceptive person, but he knew what that meant.
And he gave Bart the good news.
"Bart, guess what?"
"Pants Down got a sex change?"
"No! Draco's not coming back to Hogwarts!"
"…OK, what's the catch?"
"Well, Lucius Malfoy escaped."
"Ah well, you win some; you lose some."
"…are you serious? He almost killed Ginny!"
"Yeah, but he's left a lot of stuff behind. Besides, what's he gonna do when he's on the lam? Screw his cousins?"
"You're right…but what about Parkinson?"
"What about her? What's she gonna do, sneeze on us?"
"It's just…I have a funny feeling about her, that's all."
"What, 'cos her Mum got off the hook? Don't sweat it, dude; we can handle her."
Harry knew that Bart was right, but he still had a bad feeling…
A feeling which Bart didn't share, as he told Gemma while she lazed on the bed.
"Guess what, Gemma? Drainy's not comin' back!"
Gemma looked at Bart incredulously.
"You're having me on, aren't you?"
Bart chuckled.
"Gemma, would I lie about this?"
You lie about many things. "Well, supposing that you are correct…"
"Then you'd be the Queen of Slytherin." A killer queen, Bart thought, admiring Gemma's regal beauty as she stretched her long legs before sipping some Moët & Chandon.
"I'm already the Queen of Slytherin, Bart", she pompously replied. "However, the Malfoy name could unite all the bigots and their associates. Now that dear Draco has departed, they have no unifying figure.
And if they're divided…then I can conquer."
Bart smirked.
"And how are you gonna do that?"
"Favours and threats go a long way in Slytherin, Bart", Gemma replied, her eyes gleaming in anticipation. "You see, Draco's 'helpers' belong to different friendship groups. So I will identify the weakest person within said groups, and offer…inducements."
"What if they say no?"
Gemma smirked.
"Then comes the stick. Slytherins aren't Gryffindors, so they will surely capitulate."
"And if they don't?" Bart almost flirtatiously asked.
The Head Girl frowned.
"Then I would use Memory Charms, so their friends don't find out. It may damage their memories, but I can't make enemies everywhere in Slytherin, either."
Bart nodded.
"You think Captain Hook will do anything?"
Gemma shook her head.
"Not unless it's absolutely necessary. He usually leaves discipline to the prefects, and having a Head Girl in his ranks will give him even more excuse to not interfere."
While Gemma plotted, Lisa lay on her bed as she contemplated the future.
In all honesty, her first foray into the wizarding world was wonderful. Not only had she not embarrassed herself in Diagon Alley, but she actually made a friend!
A friend! The very notion was novel to Lisa, who was eternally isolated. Sure, her strength of character helped her cope, but even she got lonely sometimes. Her desire to connect hence overrode her natural scepticism.
And maybe Astoria would actually support her ideas, her desire to stand out, her desire to make a difference?
That would certainly contrast her experiences in Springfield, where the people were more interested in persecuting her than listening to her.
Lisa admonished herself. Springfield was the past; Hogwarts was the future! At Hogwarts, she could be her own person, and nobody would hold her gifts against her.
Although…she'd be up against Bart. Deep down, the two siblings cared for each other more than they would admit, but their relationship was turbulent. Lisa was annoyed by Bart's amoral and attention-seeking ways, whereas Bart thought Lisa too nerdy and preachy. It was no wonder that Bart brought out her competitive side.
Lisa was rather self-conscious about that – she preferred cooperation over competition – but conflict between them was inevitable.
I'll just have to prepare for it.
Just like Harry and the headmaster prepared for their trip to Diagon Alley the next day.
"Professor, why are we standing on the footpath? Can't you just apparate there?"
"I certainly can, Harry", the headmaster replied with twinkling eyes, "But sometimes the joy is in the journey. Tell me, have you ever ridden a bus?"
Harry shook his head. The Dursleys wouldn't be caught dead on such 'low-class' transportation, and he always had to walk home after completing errands.
Can't have my freakishness causing a bus crash or anything, Harry sourly thought.
"That's probably a good thing then, because this bus is quite unlike any Muggle one."
And with that, the wise old wizard waved his wand in the air.
BANG!
Ugh, bloody hell! Harry angrily thought, as a giant pair of headlights and wheels appeared, belonging to a bus so purple that the Joker presumably painted it.
Oh wow, that won't get anyone's attention, the boy sarcastically thought. A giant purple bus in the middle of Gloucestershire – yeah, that'll blend in.
The purple-uniformed conductor was equally inconspicuous, commencing a rather gratuitous announcement before laying eyes on the headmaster and breaking into a Cockney bray which sound uncannily like Willy's.
"P-Professor Dumbledore?! What 'choo doin' down there?"
The headmaster inclined his head.
"Nice to see you too, Stanley. I thought that Harry and I would catch the bus. I hope that's not a problem?"
The acne-ridden conductor hurriedly shook his head.
"H-Harry Potter? N-no, of course not, s-sir. P-please come in."
"Thank you. What's the fare for Diagon Alley, my dear boy?"
Stan Shunpike laughed nervously.
"Y-you don't 'ave to pay."
"Nonsense, Stanley. Everybody must earn a living, and that includes you and Ernest, here."
"W-well then", Stanley responded as the driver acknowledged his old Transfiguration teacher, "it'll be eleven sickles each, but you can 'ave some Butterbeer for fifteen sickles."
"That won't be necessary, Stanley", the professor responded, paying the fare before leading Harry to some seats. After applying some Sticking Charms, he invited Harry to sit down.
"Just some extra safety measures, Harry. Nothing to worry about."
Harry quickly understood what he meant, for the bus took off with a resounding BANG! The scenery outside became a blur as the passengers lurched back in their seats, with Stan commentating as the vehicle travelled at ungodly speeds.
"We're in Wales now, I think. That right, Ern?"
"Aye."
"Ummm…I hate to tell you this, Professor, but…Wales isn't on the way to London."
The headmaster chortled.
"Of course not, Harry. As I said, sometimes the journey is to be savoured."
But Harry wasn't savouring anything, as luggage and seats flew around the bus, with the mayhem outside reflecting the mayhem inside as obstacles veritably threw themselves out of the purple menace's way.
"Umm…don't the Muggles notice anything?" Harry asked as the bus thundered along.
"Not a thing, Harry. This bus is invisible to them. And Muggles seemingly cannot perceive movement like wizards can, so they don't notice the objects moving outside."
"Many things are invisible to 'em", Stan muttered contemptuously.
Harry suppressed a chuckle after imagining Uncle Vernon riding the Knight Bus.
He probably would've had a heart attack by now.
But his amusement turned to anger when Ernest and Stan started discussing Sirius Black.
Discuss my parents' betrayer in front of me, why don't you, Harry angrily thought.
Mrs. Marsh apparently agreed, for she wore a handkerchief around her mouth as she stumbled off the bus, with Stan throwing her luggage after her.
"It seems that the service is worth every Sickle", Harry snarked. "Not to be rude, Professor, but why did we catch this bus?"
"Because not everybody can apparate, Harry", the headmaster replied. "You're still an underage wizard, so you may require transportation if you find yourself stranded. Provided that you don't indulge your inner Jacques Cousteau by planning an underwater voyage."
Harry couldn't argue with the reasoning, but he nonetheless wished that he had talked the headmaster out of this trip, as a suitcase bounced off the shield erected by Dumbledore.
Ugh, I guess facelifts aren't free, Harry snarked as the bus careened about with gay abandon.
Trying to tune out the discussion about Sirius Black, Harry spoke to his guardian.
"How bad are these Azkaban guards?"
Professor Dumbledore clenched the plush leather seat with his fingers.
That can't be good, Harry thought, knowing that few things fazed the headmaster.
And indeed, it wasn't.
"More terrible than I care to admit, quite frankly", the headmaster grimly replied. "In fact, I was planning to discuss them with Cornelius after I drop you off."
"Then who's looking after me?" Harry asked, his impressionable mind imagining a figure lurking within a misty forest with no name. Obscured though its face was, the giant figure was nonetheless ghastly, with a head adorned with horns, teeth which would have flattered a basilisk, and red eyes which promised doom. Moreover, snakes with eyes which resembled a hail-filled sky tantalisingly slithered and sloped around the being.
The professor threw Harry out of his fantasy with a typically enigmatic reply.
"Someone you know."
Harry huffed, knowing that the headmaster wouldn't be more forthcoming.
He should know that I'm not really into surprises.
But he'd receive more surprises, for the Knight Bus missed a police station by that much.
At least we're not near any cliffs, Harry thought as their fellow passengers gradually, and gladly, left the bus, leaving only Harry and the headmaster.
"You'd think London would be a more popular destination."
"Now Harry, the metropolitan life isn't for everybody", the headmaster replied.
After some nightmarishly close shaves, such that he instinctively ducked for cover when the Knight Bus ploughed through a marketplace, they finally reached their destination, as the purple monstrosity stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron with a resounding screech.
"Thank you for your service, Stanley and Ernest", the headmaster said before removing the Sticking Charms and leading Harry forward, much to the boy's relief.
"No worries, Professor", Stanley replied as Ernest nodded. Before long, the bus departed for parts unknown with a massive BANG!
"Ah, Professor Dumbledore!" a high-pitched voice jovially acknowledged.
Harry swirled around. Emerging from the Leaky Cauldron's shadows was none other than…
"Professor Flitwick!"
The Charms teacher inclined his head.
"It's lovely to see you too, Mr. Potter!"
"Hello, Filius", the headmaster greeted. "Can you please look after Harry?"
"Absolutely, Albus!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Come with me, Harry!"
"See you later, Professor", Harry called out as the dwarf ushered him along.
"You too, Harry. Do try and enjoy yourself, won't you?"
"I'll try." And fail.
He was wrong, however, for a couple of familiar voices called out to him.
"HEY HARRY!"
Harry spun around. There, sitting outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, were Ron and Hermione, waving very enthusiastically.
"Ah, Mr. Weasley! Miss Granger! How have you two been?" Professor Flitwick asked as he followed Harry.
"Excellent, Professor!" Hermione obsequiously replied before waxing lyrical about her French adventure.
A voice with a distinctive American accent then drawled behind them.
"So, we havin' a party?"
Harry turned with a smirk.
"We must be, because you're late."
"Hello, Mr. Simpson!" greeted Professor Flitwick.
"Yes, hello Bart", Hermione curtly greeted, conveying her displeasure at being interrupted.
"Hey, Professor. Hey Hermione, did you tell the gendarmes how to do their jobs?"
"Bart…" Harry warned.
"Oh, alriiiiiiight. Hey Ron, how was Egypt?"
Ron looked surprised that Bart had even asked.
"Yeah, it was wicked! The twins tried to shut Percy in a pyramid…"
"Coooooool! Did they succeed?"
"Umm, no – "
"Ah, that's a shame. Were the flies there as big as your head?"
"No - "
"Did any planes fall out of the sky?"
"No - "
"Eh, EgyptAir must have grounded their fleet again. Were there any assassinations?"
"BART!" Harry barked.
"Oh alright, I'll go and get my textbooks. Hey, you see that over there?"
Harry turned towards his favourite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, only to see a large crowd squeezed inside.
"Yeah?"
"The broom in there's called a Firebolt, or something. Apparently the Bulgarian Quidditch team have ordered a stack of 'em. But I bet my Nimbus could run rings around it."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, sure Bart. See you later."
"You too, Harry. Bye, girls!"
Hermione scowled in his direction while Ron rolled his eyes. Last year, his reaction would have been decidedly more vociferous, but he couldn't dislike Bart nowadays. Not after he had saved his sister's life.
"I guess some things don't change", Ron snarked.
"Like the size of his ego", Hermione snarled.
Harry quickly changed the subject.
"So, how's Scabbers been?"
"Not his usual self", Ron admitted, frowning as he contemplated his rat's ailing health.
Nor was Dumbledore, after hearing out Cornelius' proposal for protecting Hogwarts.
"Cornelius, if I understand correctly, you wish to station Dementors - "
"Yes - "
" - who feast on people's souls - "
"Yes - "
" - outside a place full of souls?"
Cornelius Fudge blanched as he realised the ramifications of his proposal.
"W-well Dumbledore, I-I'm trying to keep them safe from Sirius Black - "
"By potentially endangering them?"
Cornelius spluttered impotently, allowing Albus to press the point.
"I doubt that Horace approved of this."
Cornelius looked sheepish.
"W-well he didn't…but Dolores did!"
The headmaster inwardly groaned.
Of course Dolores did. She would flatter anybody to advance her position. "But Dolores is one person, Cornelius. Horace and I are two people. And the Dementors are controversial. Your constituents will not appreciate their assignment to a school full of their children."
The minister's eyes widened.
Poor predictable Cornelius. If anything can change his mind, it's public perception.
"O-of course, Dumbledore. I will simply station Aurors outside Hogwarts."
"Thank you, Cornelius."
Bart felt similarly gratified when he saw a certain redheaded duo in Flourish & Blotts.
"How's it hangin', boys?"
The twins turned around.
"Look, George! It's Commander Cool!"
"It's the Voldkiller!"
"It's the SisterSaver!"
"It's the Bart de Triomphe!"
Bart bowed before the twins narrowed their eyes.
"Look what the cat dragged in, Fred", George snarled.
Bart turned around, only to see…
"Violet Parkinson", Fred observed.
"The old crone."
"Well, I guess Pant-sy's a young crone, then", Bart joked.
The twins snickered.
Unfortunately, Harry didn't share their amusement, since he witnessed Ron and Hermione argue over Scabbers and some cat-like thing. Not to mention seeing a black dog stare at him as he left the Magical Menagerie – one that eerily resembled the creature adorning the cover of that book about death omens that he saw in Flourish & Blotts.
And his mood didn't really improve after Professor Flitwick apparated them to a very impressive building in the middle of a spacious green field.
Said building almost resembled an old cathedral, with its domed roof and mason exterior, but the horn protruding from the roof also acknowledged Flitwick's goblin heritage.
"Welcome to my ancestral home, Mr. Potter. Flitwick Manor!"
"Yeah, it looks great", Harry unenthusiastically replied, with the pair walking past the pillars surrounding the manor's exterior before reaching an incongruously red wooden door.
"My goblin ancestors built this door", the dwarf explained before tapping said door and swishing his wand back and forth with dizzying rapidity, generating complex patterns that almost no home invader could imitate, never mind create. He then ushered Harry inside.
Beholding the boy were old wooden bookcases containing countless books, which obscured some portraits depicting Flitwick's ancestors – some human, some goblin. In the distance shone a pane of glass which looked remarkably like that within Hogwarts' Library.
Actually, the entire library kind of looks like Hogwarts' library, Harry thought before the professor spoke up, having already placed the suitcase containing the boy's shrunken school supplies on a weathered wooden table.
"As you can see, I have quite the book collection. There are some centuries-old books written in Gobbledegook, family spellbooks, other charms spellbooks of varying antiquity, and even some manuscripts containing charms which have been forgotten for centuries. I doubt even You-Know-Who knows about some of these!"
Harry looked genuinely impressed.
This is the library of Hermione's dreams. "Could you teach me some of those charms, sir?"
Professor Flitwick chuckled.
"My boy, many of these charms are obscure because they're too complex or impractical. But I'll help you improve your duelling skills, instead!"
The bespectacled boy grinned.
"I'd love that, sir."
Before long, Harry found himself in Flitwick's duelling room. This room neither resembled the school's duelling room nor Professor Sprout's white room, which the professor noted.
"Mr. Potter, my goblin ancestors made and enchanted these iron walls to withstand explosions and absorb stray spells. The wands up there, which are protected by unbreakable glass, were won by my ancestors in various duels, including during the Goblin Rebellions. They kept them because they resented the wizards for denying them wands."
Harry nodded.
"Yeah, Professor Binns mentioned that." Ruined my nap, too.
"I'm sure that he did! Now, there are some goblin-made swords up there", the Charms professor continued as he pointed to the side, "which were made by descendants of Ragnuk the First, who crafted the Sword of Gryffindor. Now, do show me your duelling technique."
The young mage duly complied.
"Yeeesssss…very impressive, Mr. Potter! Your technique is very compact and side-on, you've brushed your arm with your body while drawing your wand, your hips are titled forward, you've bent your knee and foot, and your arm is extended towards the opponent. And you even have a wand holster! Professor Farley has taught you well.
However, I would exploit your agility and lower centre of gravity to not only fire spells at your opponent's feet, like I did against Professor Farley, but also lower your profile by crouching and moving. You can then fire from a lower position, so a taller opponent must adjust their shield charm or dodge, potentially forcing them off-balance because of their higher centre of gravity, making any counterattacks less accurate.
Although I prefer more creative spells, Fumos can also buy you several seconds against dangerous opponents, since wizards often won't immediately attack what they can't see."
Harry nodded. He had already used Fumos to conceal himself from Merula Snyde, but obviously Flitwick didn't know that.
"Professor…can you please teach me that spell which made Professor Farley jump into the air?" Harry asked, realising that his opponents – particularly Bart – wouldn't expect it.
The dwarf scratched his chin.
"Hmmm…the Bouncer is tricky, since a poorly aimed one will fly harmlessly over your opponent's head or hit them on the full.
But, a sparingly used and correctly aimed Bouncer will at worst disorientate your opponent, and at best will send them four metres into orbit before they crash into the ground. It works particularly well against taller opponents, since they find it harder to dodge. So I will teach you Episkey and Arresto Momentum, so you can slow your opponent's fall, or heal them after practice duels."
Harry nodded, before the pair went about their business.
Although Harry could perform a passable Episkey after three attempts, mastering the spell involved an hour of hard yakka, since the correct wand movement was not only needed, but the gap between the circle couldn't be too small or too large. The wand movement also couldn't be too slow, for this slowed Episkey's effects, such that the spell emulated a painkiller instead of healing broken toes.
They then perfected Harry's Rennervate, before the Professor superstitiously cut his arm.
Which Harry didn't know, since his heartbeat skyrocketed as he saw blood drops punctuate the cushioned blue floor.
"PROFESSOR, ARE YOU – "
"HARRY, YOU HAVE TO HEAL THIS RIGHT NOW!" the Professor urged, as his squeaky voice accentuated his pain. Indeed, it sounded like he had joined a choir of castrati.
Harry got to work, executing Episkey like a trained professional until the cut on the professor's arm did no more harm.
The professor then looked Harry over with intrigue.
"You've proven a theory that I had about you, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked nonplussed.
"Which is?"
"That you perform best under pressure. That cut was minor, but you believing that it wasn't spurred you into action. Your theoretical work has never surpassed your practical work, and that's because you're a hands-on wizard."
Harry nodded in understanding. Although annoyed with Flitwick's manipulative behaviour, he understood why the dwarf had created that situation.
"So with this newfound knowledge, maybe we can hasten your training…"
Which the Professor duly did, demonstrating the Arresto Momentum with a slashing 'M', before encouraging the same from Harry.
"Not a bad effort, Harry…", the duellist slyly noted before placing three Chocoballs on the duelling table which was strategically placed in the centre of the room.
Harry's eyes narrowed.
What's going on here?
Some surreptitiously cast Alarte Ascendares answered that question, for before Harry could blink, the Chocoballs flew into the sky!
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!" the professor yelled, trying to drum up a bit of drama. "HARRY, IF YOU CAN'T SLOW THEIR DESCENT, WE CAN'T HAVE MORNING TEA!"
Harry would not let that happen – not after the Dursleys underfed him. So he sprung into action, his instincts taking over as he dived forward and aimed at the Chocoballs, which were now falling – and falling hard.
But Harry wasn't having that, and so with dizzying nerve, he screamed "Arresto Momentum!", not once, not twice, but thrice, as three M's slashed the air. Two were textbook, but the third's circular shape would have gratified Ray Croc. Unfortunately, while the wider M increased the spell's area of effect, it also weakened its potency, so the third Chocoball bounced once before rolling on its side, slightly smudging the creamy top.
The pint-sized professor applauded enthusiastically.
"Well done, Mr. Potter, well done!" he gushed. "You are absolutely fantastic under pressure! Not many wizards could have pulled that off!"
"Moreover, we can all have morning tea", another voice chimed in.
The pair turned towards the voice.
"Ah, nice of you to join us, Albus!" Filius gushed.
"And it was nice that Harry saved those Chocoballs for us", the headmaster replied. "Not that it really mattered – I could have easily reconstructed them – but you've proven yourself an able teacher once again, Filius.
For you see, Harry, I asked him to teach you Arresto Momentum and Episkey."
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Why?"
"Because the injuries that Mr. Simpson and Mr. Weasley sustained were not only life-threatening, but occurred after they hit the ground. Miss Farley would have known Arresto Momentum, but she was obviously too preoccupied with Tom.
I feel that you would have acted quickly enough to slow Mr. Simpson and Mr. Weasley down and heal their comparatively minor injuries so they could help fight the basilisk."
Annoyed at being manipulated once again, Harry curtly corrected the headmaster.
"I don't think so, Professor Dumbledore. I could hardly remember my own name when I was fighting the basilisk, so I probably would have forgotten about those spells."
Sighed, did the headmaster.
"Harry, your loyalty to your friends defines you, such that you battled a basilisk to save Miss Weasley's life. Your remarkably quick instincts would have saved those two from serious injury if you knew those spells."
Harry's inner cynic would have warned him against believing Dumbledore, for the man had failed him previously.
But really, the headmaster had not known how the Dursleys had treated him, and it was Harry's sense of shame which perpetuated that situation. And upon finding out, a distraught Dumbledore had immediately extricated Harry from that hellhole.
"I believe you, sir", Harry replied slowly, but solemnly.
The headmaster wiped a tear from his eye.
"I knew you would, Harry", Dumbledore replied, his voice tinged with emotion. "Now – let us enjoy these Chocoballs."
"Let's."
The trio duly had morning tea in a kitchen which was obviously designed by goblins, with its cobblestone walls, a fireplace adorned with horns, and a shelf with bizarre-looking plates and utensils which only a goblin could have found appealing.
And the centrepiece, supported by a cobalt goblin rug adorned with a bronze eagle, was a wooden table which a shop teacher would scoff at.
At least there aren't skulls on shelves or sacks full of entrails, Harry inwardly snarked as he tucked into his Chocoball. Luckily, Flitwick had softened their gnarly-looking goblin chairs with a Cushioning Charm, otherwise Harry might have felt like he had joined the military.
"Are you here for Harry?" the Charms conjurer asked the elderly wizard, whose towering height reflected his superior status as the dwarf was subsumed into his shadow.
Not that Albus exploited this, merely remarking, "Only if he has nothing to learn."
"On the contrary, Albus. He wanted to learn the Bouncer."
Albus looked genuinely intrigued.
"Why, I haven't attended a cricket match for over thirty years", the old master mused. "Is Richie Benaud still playing?"
"No, I'm pretty sure he's a commentator", Harry replied, having seen his uncle watch the game on television.
The headmaster nodded.
And then he would watch as Professor Flitwick positioned himself at one end of the duelling room, with Harry staring him down.
"Alright, Mr. Potter, do your worst!" the dwarf invited. "Remember, press your thumb and first two fingers together before releasing!"
Harry nodded, before whipping out his wand and hurling himself forward.
"Bouncer!"
The red and white spell spiralled threateningly towards the floor…before sailing above the short man's head.
"Don't put too much effort into it, Mr. Potter! You'll just tire yourself out!"
Harry nodded, steadying himself before trying again.
"Bouncer!" he hollered, holding his arm back slightly before firing.
Unfortunately, this sailed harmlessly towards the professor, who deflected the spell like he would a stunner.
"No, Mr. Potter, use your normal action, but look where you aim!"
Now properly perturbed, Harry scowled before closing his eyes and readying himself. Quick as a cobra, he launched his arm forward.
"Bouncer!"
Now this one was right on the money, as the spell flew downwards before abruptly speeding towards Flitwick's jugular, looking like it would decapitate the dwarf.
But the wily wizard had anticipated this, for he didn't take his eye off the spell for a second, instead leaning forwards and swatting the spell towards a surprised Harry, who barely deflected the spell before it could knock his block off.
The professor chortled.
"That was a very impressive shield charm, Mr. Potter! And I see that playing Quidditch hasn't dulled your reflexes any!
But a serious opponent can always counter their own attacks. So you can't switch off for a second, for that could spell your doom."
Harry huffed, but before the atmosphere became too tense, the headmaster stepped in.
"Maybe Harry should test his Bouncer against somebody taller", he nonchalantly noted before venturing towards Filius. "Filius, can you please stand a short distance behind me?"
The dwarf duly obliged before the headmaster stood to attention, his wand at the ready.
"Harry, you may begin."
And so Harry did, firing the most venomous Bouncer that he could muster, the spell spearing towards the ground before shooting towards the headmaster's throat with unsettling speed. Surely even the headmaster would have trouble negotiating this one?
However, the headmaster seemingly had a plan for everything, and so he handled the incoming missile with impressive aplomb, swaying his body back before artfully flicking the spell over his shoulder, forcing a deflection from Filius.
"And that technique, Harry, can help you survive an ambush", the headmaster explained as Harry stared in shock. "For a less aware wizard than Filius would not have deflected the spell in time, which naturally evens up the odds. Now, let me show you how it's done."
While the headmaster outlined the finer points of that particular Protego, Bart outlined the finer points of Muggle music to the Weasley twins, as they explored the Muggle music shop next to Diagon Alley.
Although 'finer' was admittedly a stretch, as the album which the Weasley twins retrieved from the bargain bin contained some rather lurid content.
"'Sex Action'? What do you think that song's about, George?" Fred asked.
"I'm not sure, brother mine. What do you think, milord?"
Bart thought for a moment.
"It's abooouuut…Newtonian physics."
The twins cocked their heads, before Fred broke the silence.
"Umm…why?"
"'Cos sex involves gravity."
The twins chuckled before pulling another album from the bargain bin.
"Hmmm…Girls Girls Girls", George recited.
"Sounds like one for the cryptologists", Bart quipped before being shown another album.
"Look Bart, it's a 'fun house'! And he's obviously having fun", Fred cheekily noted, as the album cover depicted a man drowning in a sea of fire.
The Stooges, 'ey? Must be like The Three Stooges. "Yeah, he's really living it up", Bart drawled before grabbing a ghetto blaster. "Alrighty boys, I'll pay for those albums and have this baby converted in a jiffy. In fact, I'll get it off the goblins tomorrow."
"Oh, thank you, our lordship!" Fred gushed.
"How can we ever repay you?" George asked.
"Eh, you don't have to", Bart replied as he adjusted the khaki backpack containing his shrunken school supplies. "Share the wealth, that's what I say."
In truth, Bart and Gemma agreed that introducing Fred and George to Muggle music would keep them onside, just in case their creativity proved useful.
Not that the twins suspected anything, as Fred spoke up.
"Umm, Bart…our family was going to throw a party before school started…"
Bart perked up.
"A party, huh? I'm in. Who else are you inviting?"
"Well, everyone who helped save Ginny's life, alongside Hermione", Fred replied. "You…"
"Princess Gemma…" George continued.
"Mr. Potter…"
"Wilfredo Widdershins…"
"Professor Dumbledore…"
"And last but certainly not least, our esteemed potions master."
Bart burst out laughing.
"If he shows up, then I'm Tom Cruise!"
Of course, Bart was not Tom Cruise. So Professor Snape naturally declined the invitation the morning after.
"Attend? A party? Absolutely not, Albus", Severus replied, his voice echoing ominously within the grim confines of his ancestral home.
"Why not, Severus?"
Severus surveyed him with bemusement.
"Do I look like I'm well versed in the art of parties?"
"No, but maybe you could attend one for the sake of self-development."
The potions master shook his head.
"Attending a party is not my idea of self-development, Albus. Quite frankly, I would sooner sodomise myself with a ladle."
"Could I possibly change your mind?"
"I'm afraid not, Albus. Even resurrecting her would not persuade me."
Harry, who was learning on a worn old table, cocked his head curiously.
Snape actually liked someone? Talk about a turn up for the books.
Not that Snape's subsequent tone betrayed that fact.
"But fear not – I'm sure that the party does not require my presence. Especially since the saintly Mr. Potter is attending", the professor sneered as he surveyed Harry with contempt.
"Severus…" Albus warned.
"Fine", Severus petulantly replied. "I bid you both farewell."
And that concluded their dismal little conversation.
"I'm sorry that you had to witness that, Harry", the headmaster confessed as the pair emerged into the post-industrial slum that was modern Cokeworth. "I honestly hoped that he would be more convivial."
Harry could scarcely believe what he had just heard.
Convivial? Snape? Not in this lifetime.
However, a disillusioned Bart was feeling considerably more convivial as he traversed the mean streets of Knockturn Alley with an equally invisible Gemma and Jake, with the newly rune-powered ghetto blaster safely shrunken within his backpack.
A normal person would have felt unsettled by how the street vendors peddled shrunken heads, or how many of the surrounding witches and wizards looked like they'd mug you for a few Galleons. Indeed, the place was a veritable hive of scum and villainy…and Bart liked it.
You know, I wouldn't mind setting up shop here. Maybe I could market the Voldulator's head as a Quaffle or something. I'd probably make a killing, Bart mused as he chuckled to himself.
And he'd chuckle even more when the newly disillusioned trio entered Diagon Alley, as a familiar blonde eagerly approached him.
"Bart!"
"Hey Luna, how was Australia?" Bart asked, chuckling at the thought of sending the strange Ravenclaw on a wild goose chase.
"It was wonderful! We found a Crumple-Horned Snorcack!" Luna gushed.
Bart nearly fell over, as the Farleys suppressed their laughter.
"Really?" Jake asked. "Pray tell, what did the creature look like?"
"Oh, I can't tell you that", Luna cryptically replied.
"What, did it make you sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement?" Bart sarcastically asked.
"No, but it informed me that if I described its appearance, I would shrivel up and die."
"That sounds like a most rewarding encounter", Jake dryly remarked. "But if you would excuse us, Miss Lovegood, we have errands to run."
"Oh, really? Well, see you later, Bart!"
Hopefully much later. "Yeah, sure Luna."
As they wandered down the lane, Jake asked a question.
"I wonder what our dear friend Lucius is doing."
Bart shrugged.
"Eh, maybe he's eating rats."
However, Lucius Malfoy was doing no such thing. Instead, while hiding behind a brilliant disguise, he watched the sunset from the porch of the little white house which his family currently inhabited.
However, this house was not their home. Malfoy Manor was. And the blood traitors had taken that.
Still, all was not lost. For thanks to the goblins in Gringotts, who despised the wizarding authorities, his family had procured new identification, based on the birth certificates of purebloods who had died in infancy.
Moreover, Narcissa had successfully retrieved much of their wealth from Gringotts and, in conjunction with Lucius, opened two separate accounts with the local subsidiary after purchasing their current residence, making their wealth even harder to seize.
Provided that the Ministry of Magic even expanded their manhunt beyond Britain, for he knew that Sirius Black was a bigger priority. He never thought that he would thank that accursed blood traitor, but there was always a first time for everything.
Additionally, being the wily operator that he was, Lucius shrewdly relocated to a fledging community which not only supported pureblood supremacy and separatism when such was becoming passé elsewhere, but also desperately required cash to upgrade decaying infrastructure – cash that Lucius happily provided in exchange for refuge and influence, knowing that the local authorities wouldn't willingly betray a benefactor.
Moreover, influence begat resources, and resources begat revenge. And he would have his revenge. It was just a matter of time…
Author's Notes for Chapter Three
Well, after a very busy four months, I've finally completed this chapter!
Draco's gone for now because I took his adversarial relationship with Bart as far as I could without things seeming TOO repetitive. He'll be back, though...
Ernie Prang looks old enough to have attended Hogwarts before Dumbledore became headmaster.
Assassinations in Egypt = Anwar Sadat
Ireland was substituted with Bulgaria for a reason.
Dumbledore rejecting Fudge's proposal echoes The Chosen Six by Tribun.
Flitwick Manor is based on the Bodlean Library in Oxford, which was used in the films, as I've alluded to.
The red wooden door is from the Korean drama Goblin.
Harry was a very good duellist in canon. He'd likely have a textbook duelling technique.
A four metre fall potentially causes serious injury.
Hard yakka = Australianism for hard work
The commentary about Episkey is fanon, but consistent with Bart needing minutes to master Episkey (since he's a prodigy), and the Slytherins generally creating passable Ebublios after several tries during Jake's DADA lesson.
Ray Croc = Founder of McDonalds
Police officers have reported barely remembering their badge numbers after intense shootouts, so Harry might well have forgotten spells under pressure.
Hair metal (L.A. Guns & Motley Crue) was unfashionable by 1993, hence explaining why their albums would be in the bargain bin. And The Stooges were never fashionable to begin with.
EDIT (30/11/2024): You can see subtle foreshadowing that Draco wouldn't be at Hogwarts in Book 3, not least that Narcissa withdrew him at the end of Book 2. I was going to have a Simpsons-style auction at the Malfoy Manor, where Bart could buy Draco's bed for a few knuts, but the UK police can't confiscate the property of someone who wasn't convicted of a crime (the AUS police can't either - see the disgraced Australian businessman Christopher Skase, whom I modelled Lucius' escape after).
Simpsons episode references
'Principal Charming': The flies in Egypt being as big as your head
'Brake My Wife, Please': Commander Cool
The Jacques Cousteau reference is from an early Simpsons short.
Monster King/James Birdsong: Thanks.
alexeie2006: I don't think so. If anything, they were lucky that Harry didn't press charges.
Merinus: Maybe.