A/N: I have one more big surprise for the series in this chapter that I've been keeping secret this whole time...can anyone guess who/what it is? I've dropped subtle hints in previous chapters, but I hope it will still catch you off-guard when it comes!
August seemed to stretch onward to infinity, as Harry was forced to while away the long hours inside while he knew the other kids his age were out enjoying the sunshine. He tried to entertain himself by conversing with the various Aurors that rotated in and out of their posts watching the house, but not all were as friendly or conversational as Tonks. Moody nearly blasted a hole in Harry's chest when he approached the grizzled veteran unannounced, and Rufus Scrimgeour didn't even entertain a conversation, harshly ordering Harry back inside.
Harry also noticed that his mother was more reserved and withdrawn as the summer drew to a close. At first he assumed that she was giving him and James the silent treatment after their disagreement over the Firebolt. But he later overheard a late-night conversation between his parents that assuaged his concerns.
"Don't take it personal, dear," James assured Lily. "I've tried to tell you that brother-in-law of yours is no good—"
"Vernon was worse than usual this year," Lily muttered. "His sister Marge was in town, and she's an awful influence on all of them. Doting on Dudley, treating everyone else like rubbish...slandering your name…"
"Oh, to hell with the Statute of Secrecy!" James muttered. "You can't let your sister spread lies about us! Filling her family's head with malicious rumors, calling our children 'freaks'…"
"Petunia used to keep her husband in line more," Lily sighed. "I don't know what's happened to her, but she's become a wallflower—"
Harry didn't need to hear any more, retreating down the hall to his bedroom lest he get caught eavesdropping. Surely his mother could see just how awful the Dursleys were, and wasn't blinded by love for her sister. He was more glad than ever that he'd declined to visit them when invited the past few summers – fourteen years of enduring their antics in his previous timeline was more than enough.
Later that week was the arrival of Harry and Dahlia's Hogwarts letters via owl. Harry tore his open at once, grateful for anything productive to do:
Dear Mr. Potter,
This fall, you will be entering your third year at Hogwarts. Enclosed are two forms we request you fill out and send back to the school at your earliest convenience. The first is a permission form to visit the village of Hogsmeade, which must be signed by a legal guardian in order for you to leave the castle grounds.
The second is a course selection sheet, in which you must indicate which (if any) electives you wish to pursue from this year onward. Students are encouraged to take no less than one elective and no more than three (though any number can be selected).
Also attached are your required materials for each course, including for any and all electives you select. You are responsible for providing such materials and bringing them to the school for the upcoming term.
As always, the Hogwarts Express departs from Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross, London on the first of September at eleven o' clock sharp. Do not be late!
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry located the electives course sheet, which outlined the five bonus classes he could sign up for. Muggle Studies was out; he knew he could likely sleepwalk through that O.W.L. exam and pass with flying colors thanks to his years with the Dursleys. He loathed the idea of taking Divination again, but figured it would look suspicious to Dumbledore if he didn't, so he signed up for it, along with Care of Magical Creatures for more easy credits (and to stay in Hagrid's good graces). The other two, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, seemed too intimidating and time-consuming, so he skipped both.
Harry brought the Hogsmeade permission slip to his mother, but she insisted on looking over his course selections first. "Oh, no, this simply won't do," she tutted. "You are far too brilliant a student to not challenge yourself! Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are tricky subjects, of course, but someone with your intellect should find it no trouble at all."
Harry groaned; he couldn't exactly own up to the fact that his 'intellect' was a byproduct of already having taken all of his previous classes before. That advantage would be null in classes he knew absolutely nothing about. But his mother insisted, so he reluctantly signed up for both, leaving him with a daunting course load for the upcoming semester.
"Mum, when can we go to Diagon Alley to pick up our books?" Dahlia asked, running in with her own list of required materials.
"We won't be going this year," Lily said adamantly. "It's too risky, with Pettigrew on the loose."
"He would attack anyone in broad daylight, with so many witnesses!" Harry protested.
"I won't risk having you two in danger again after what happened last term," Lily said firmly. "We can mail-order everything we need anyway."
Harry wanted to argue further, but held his tongue. He was certain he could take Peter in a duel if it came to blows, though he had to acknowledge that Dahlia was more liable to get herself into trouble. He'd hate to see anything happen to her, so he resigned himself to spending the rest of the summer indoors, counting down the days until September 1st.
Harry decided to dedicate himself to the task Saul Croaker had given him: writing down everything he could remember about his interactions with Voldemort in the last timeline. It was an unpleasant task, unearthing all the traumatic experiences he'd lived in a prior life, but he remained diligent, sparing no details. He kept the notebook under his pillow and even charmed it to appear blank to outside observers, in case his sister or parents came snooping. No need to alarm them with such memories they would likely interpret as paranoid delusions.
With only a week left of summer, Harry awoke to a good bit of news, though it certainly wasn't framed that way to him. The morning's Daily Prophet headline read, PETTIGREW SPOTTED IN N. ENGLAND, OUTSIDE DOVETOWN. "That means he's not near us, right?" Harry said optimistically.
"Dovetown is only twenty miles from Hogwarts," Lily sighed. "The Ministry seems to think he might be headed for the school."
"What would he be doing back there?" Harry asked. "He knows the Philosopher's Stone isn't there anymore, doesn't he?"
"We can't rule out the possibility that he's after you or Neville Longbottom," said Lily. "The Ministry is adding extra protections to the school in case he decides to infiltrate."
"Where's Dad?" asked Dahlia, marching into the kitchen for breakfast.
"Up at the school, I imagine," Lily sighed. "Dumbledore asked him and Sirius to help secure some of the secret entrances in and out of the school. He probably figures they know their way around better than most."
"Dumbledore's probably right," Harry chuckled.
He retreated to his room later that day to activate the Marauder's Map; sure enough, he could see the dots of James Potter and Sirius Black patrolling the grounds, no doubt installing protective wards or blockades in the seven major passageways in and out of the school. Dumbledore remained in his office most of the day, along with Cornelius Fudge...hopefully whatever they were discussing was less heated than the last time he'd seen them both in the Headmaster's office.
The good news was that the Ministry withdrew their Aurors from Godric's Hollow, and Harry and Dahlia were finally allowed to visit the village again. "Just make sure to stick together!" Lily called out after them as they departed the house for the first time in weeks. Dahlia, of course, gave Harry the slip immediately, off to cause who knows what mayhem. Harry decided to head back down to the creek, as it was still warm enough to enjoy some time in the water.
The usual crowd of teens was present, frolicking in the water, sunbathing, and gossiping in the shallows. Harry spied Kelly amidst the crowd, the girl who'd invited him to the party; he caught her eye briefly, but she merely gave him a curt nod before returning her attention to her friends. She seemed quite chummy with an older and taller boy, who was all too comfortable to playfully wrap his arms around her and splash about in the water in her orbit. Guess that window closed fast, Harry lamented.
The cruel irony of Harry's newfound freedom was that the final week of summer went by in the blink of an eye. He had one final meeting scheduled with Saul Croaker before departing for King's Cross the following morning. His mother escorted him to the Ministry, and Harry found his own way down to level nine. Saul was waiting in the hallway for him when he arrived, beckoning him wordlessly into his office.
"So," said Saul, flicking his wand to close and silence the door behind them. "You finish your homework, kid?"
Harry pulled the notebook out of his robes and handed it to Saul. The man took it, settling into his chair as he flipped open to the front page and began to skim its contents. Harry waited patiently as Saul flicked from page to page, eventually giving up and tossing the notebook on his desk.
"I'll dive into the details another time," he sighed. "Why don't you give me the bullet points?"
"Well," said Harry, "I encountered him four times in my last timeline. Once as a baby, of course, once in my first year when he tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, once when his memory opened the Chamber of Secrets, and once in my fourth year, when he resurrected himself using my blood."
"Using your blood?" Saul frowned. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he couldn't touch me before," Harry explained. "Something about my mother's sacrifice to save my life. It created some kind of permanent protection against Voldemort, until he took my blood, then he was able to again."
"Fascinating," Saul muttered. "Sounds like an arcane form of blood bond magic. Very powerful, but also difficult to replicate...it would explain how Longbottom survived as a child. Though I fail to understand how the criteria for a blood bond was formed."
"A blood bond?" Harry asked, frowning.
"It's not a perfectly-understood phenomenon," said Saul, "and usually only occurs in matters of life and death. Basically, it requires both parties to agree on some sort of magical arrangement, then one member reneging on the deal."
"What kind of arrangement could have been made in this case?" Harry wondered.
"That's the perplexing bit," Saul frowned. "The Dark Lord doesn't strike me as the type to converse before striking down his enemies. Whatever transpired between himself and Alice Longbottom must have been more than a wordless exchange."
Harry was suddenly reminded of his recurring nightmares in his previous timeline, hearing the last few seconds of Lily Potter's life… "'Not Harry, please, not Harry!' 'Stand aside, foolish girl.' 'Please, not Harry, take me!'"
"She must have offered herself in exchange for her son," Harry said aloud.
"She's hardly the first parent to die trying to protect their child," Saul scoffed. "And that in itself doesn't constitute an agreement."
"But Voldemort gave her the chance to step aside and live," said Harry. "She refused, and he struck her down anyway."
"How can you know that?"
"Because I heard it," Harry sighed. "In my timeline. I had recurring nightmares about her—about my mother's final moments."
"Fascinating," Saul breathed. "Why would he do such a thing? He stood nothing to gain from sparing her life."
"Dunno," Harry shrugged; he'd never given much thought to why Voldemort offered to spare his mother. "Does it make a difference?"
"It makes all the difference in the world, you foolish boy!" Saul barked. "If we are to hope to defeat the Dark Lord, we must understand his motives and his actions completely. Only then can we stay one step ahead of him. That brings us to Pettigrew."
"What about Pettigrew?" asked Harry.
"You told me he was in the Dark Lord's employ," said Saul. "And now he's on the loose. We must determine how this impacts things – if this accelerates the Dark Lord's return."
"In my timeline, my Uncle Sirius was the one who escaped from Azkaban," Harry explained. "He was framed by Pettigrew for betraying my parents, and broke out to try and kill him. Pettigrew's cover was blown, but he escaped and found the Dark Lord in Albania, and helped him return to his body."
"I see," Saul mused. "Normally I would say we should behave as though the same thing is happening. But given the recent news, we must tread with caution – he's headed the wrong direction for his motives to be the same."
"All right," Harry nodded. "I just don't understand what he stands to gain from going north."
"He may feel he has unfinished business at Hogwarts," said Saul. "There are numerous possibilities as to why: he may be delusional, believing his master to still be present in the school; he may have a vendetta against yourself or Mr. Longbottom; or he may not be in his right mind after such a long stint in Azkaban."
The latter didn't seem plausible to Harry – Sirius had been relatively sane after twelve years in prison, so only one year shouldn't have completely destroyed Peter's mind. "Maybe he hopes to curry favor with Dumbledore for protection?" Harry suggested.
"That would be a best-case scenario," Saul sighed, "but we can't afford to plan for best-case scenarios right now. We need to determine what his motives are."
"Us and half the Auror Office," Harry chuckled hollowly. "Their guess is as good as mine."
"It's not, actually," Saul said sternly. "Remember, you've lived this before. It may be different, but some things always stay the same. Do you think you're the first person to meddle with time? It can be altered, but human behavior generally cannot. People are who they are, and if Pettigrew resurrected his master in your timeline, it's likely he will do so again, and he believes there is something he needs to do first."
Harry pondered this. "Maybe he's trying to kidnap Neville," he suggested. "To help with the resurrection ritual."
"That is possible," Saul acknowledged. "Though I question why he would not target Longbottom at his home, rather than the most securely-guarded building in magical Britain."
"Maybe it involves me and Neville somehow," said Harry. "Since that's the only place we're together."
"Perhaps," said Saul. "We need to dig deeper, I fear, to understand who both Pettigrew and Riddle are as people. Your parents were friends with Pettigrew, were they not? That may put you in a unique position to learn more about him. I will see what I can dig up about Riddle in the meantime."
Harry didn't particularly love this plan. Bringing up Pettigrew with his mother or father seemed unpleasant, and if he dug too deep they might become suspicious why he was asking so many questions. But his attempts to research Riddle had turned up a dead end, so he figured it was a better plan than nothing. "I'll see what I can learn," he agreed.
Harry and Saul made a few last-minute plans before deciding to adjourn their meeting. "I'll go over your notes, and we can meet while you're home for winter break," said Saul. "If you think of anything relevant, send me an owl...just don't be an idiot and make it obvious to prying eyes what we're talking about."
"Got it," said Harry standing to go. He was halfway to the door when he paused, turning back towards Saul. "One last thing, actually. It's probably nothing but...Dumbledore stole a family heirloom of my dad's and gave it to Neville Longbottom last year. An invisibility cloak. D'you reckon that's related in any way?"
Saul frowned at this. "What do you mean by 'heirloom'?" he asked.
"It's been passed down the Potter lineage for generations," said Harry.
"Impossible," Saul snapped. "Invisibility cloaks don't last that long. They are good for five, maybe ten years of use before the thestral hairs in the fabric go bad and the illusion fails."
"Not my cloak," Harry said, remembering his trusty cloak fondly. "It was perfect, even after all that time. I never got caught while using it."
Saul pondered this for a moment, stroking his bearded chin. "Surely not…" he muttered.
"What?" asked Harry.
"Nothing," said Saul. "Put it from your mind. I'll look into it to see if it's worth raising a fuss over, besides the obvious transgression of Albus' thievery."
Harry nodded and left Saul's office. Once again, he was left feeling grateful that he didn't have to fight this battle alone. But he was also intimidated by the task ahead of him, suspecting that his quest to eradicate Voldemort's presence from this world would be more difficult than he initially thought.
September 1st dawned overcast and chilly, and Harry found himself reluctant to return to school. He'd finally reclaimed his summer freedom, and knew a difficult year with a full course load awaited him. Lily accompanied Harry and Dahlia to Platform 9 ¾, as James was still preoccupied with the Pettigrew investigation. "Be good this year," Lily told her children, her gaze lingering especially upon Harry. "I mean it."
"We will," Harry promised. He couldn't foresee any trouble in the coming year – no Heirs of Slytherin to catch, no Stones to protect. Only a cowardly escapee with unknown motives lurking in the shadows, whom Harry almost hoped to catch in the act. The train whistle sounded, and the Potter children hurried onto the train to embark on another year at Hogwarts.
Harry made his way through the compartments, looking for a place to sit. Dahlia had already joined Ginny, reuniting the "Terrible Twins" as they had come to be known in Gryffindor House for their rambunctious personalities. Daphne Greengrass was in a compartment loaded with Slytherins, alongside her younger sister Astoria, who was entering the school that year. Harry also spied most of his Quidditch teammates, crammed past capacity in a compartment, and Luna Lovegood, who had somehow found herself in a car with a group of sixth-years who were bemusedly listening to her explain what a Wrackspurt is.
"Hi, Harry!" a voice called out. "Come and join us!" Hermione was waving at him from a half-full compartment. Harry gratefully entered, grinning when he saw Ron and Neville already seated there. He loaded his trunk in the overhead bin and sat opposite them.
"Have a good summer, Harry?" asked Ron. Harry was pleased that he was no longer on a last-name basis with Ron; the enmity over Ginny last term had clearly been forgotten.
"Not really," Harry grumbled. "My parents insisted I stay at home, what with Pettigrew and all."
"Same," Neville sighed forlornly. "Gran thinks he's going to come after me and finish what Voldemort started."
"Somehow I doubt it," Harry muttered. "He had plenty of chances in our first year. He's probably off hiding in some hole somewhere, too afraid to stick his rat nose out." He still hadn't figured out what Pettigrew was after, but seriously doubted he would try to enter the school and risk facing Dumbledore's wrath.
Harry listened politely as Ron and Hermione recounted their exciting vacations. The Weasleys had once again gone to Egypt to visit Bill, and Hermione's parents had taken her to southern France. Before long, the train was rumbling along through the rural English countryside and the four friends were laughing and trading stories, all worries about Pettigrew and Dark Lords out of their minds.
Harry opted to largely stay out of the conversation as the train ride went on, preferring to sit back and listen to Neville, Ron and Hermione converse in their easy manner. It was a great sign of trust that they allowed Harry to listen in on their more private conversations without self-consciousness – the inside jokes, the specific language one only uses with close friends. Harry had relished in having that private world to rely on in his last timeline, and was happy to see Neville thrive in such a tight-knit group environment.
"Who d'you reckon will teach us Defense this year?" asked Ron as they munched on snacks from the trolley some time later.
"Whoever it is has big shoes to fill," Hermione sighed. "Lupin was a brilliant professor."
"My Gran is friends with Griselda Marchbanks, in the Department of Magical Education," said Neville. "She says Dumbledore had a hard time finding somebody this summer."
That can't be good news, Harry thought. Such a time crunch could only increase the odds that they get somebody like Lockhart again, who had no business being in charge of teaching anything.
Just then, their compartment gave a small lurch and the train began to slow. "Why are we stopping?" Ron frowned, peering out the window.
"We can't be there yet!" said Hermione. "It's not even nightfall yet."
"Somebody's moving out there," said Ron, squinting out the window as the train grinded to a dead halt. "I think they're boarding the train."
Surely not, Harry thought to himself. This same scenario had played out in his original third year as well, and it didn't end well. Lupin had been there to rescue them, but he was long gone, off traipsing through mainland Europe somewhere...but maybe this was an entirely different situation after all, and the worst thing imaginable wasn't coming down the corridor to haunt their nightmares...
Harry felt a creeping chill spreading throughout the compartment, and a sensation of dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach. Not again, he thought with alarm. He'd hoped they wouldn't have to endure another school year with the dementors, but it seemed the Ministry was once again disregarding Dumbledore's wishes and pulling out all the stops to catch Pettigrew.
"What is that?" Ron yelped, pointing at the door. Through the window they could see a dark hooded figure gliding down the corridor towards them. Harry struggled to control his emotions as the feeling of despair beginning to overwhelm him. Think happy thoughts, he reminded himself, trying not to panic as the darkness fought to choke all rational thought from his mind. Think happy thoughts…
The compartment door clicked open, and the dementor stuck its head in, its shuddering, rattling breath the only noise it made. At once, Neville fell to the ground, screaming and clutching his head in agony. Harry could only imagine the feeling – the cursed scar amplified all feelings of despair and fear currently coursing through all of them.
Think happy thoughts… Harry kept trying to remind himself. Had he ever been happy before? He couldn't remember. All that was playing through his mind was everything that had ever gone wrong in his life (or lives). Watching Cedric get murdered...losing Sirius to the Veil...learning of Dahlia's capture…
None of them are dead in this timeline, Harry remembered. I have friends and family. I am loved. And quite suddenly a vivid image formed in his brain: his first day in this new timeline, waking up on his birthday, laughing and eating breakfast with his family...the family he'd always dreamed of, the one he would do anything to protect…
Harry sprang to his feet and pointed his wand at the dementor. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The compartment was flooded with brilliant white light as Harry's Patronus exploded from the tip of his wand, driving the dementor back. The hooded monstrosity was forced to flee as the four-legged creature chased it down the corridor and out of sight.
Within moments, it felt like they had emerged from an icy-cold bath. Ron and Hermione gasped for air as though they weren't breathing; Harry trembled slightly, still feeling the after-effects of the unnatural chill brought by the dementor. Neville was still on the floor, rocking back and forth in the fetal position, muttering gibberish under his breath.
"What the bloody hell was that thing?" Ron shuddered.
"Dementor," Harry muttered, kneeling beside Neville to check on the boy. "They guard Azkaban's prisoners...whoever let them on a train full of school children deserves to join them."
"Harry...was that a Patronus Charm?" asked Hermione shakily. "I've read about it before...it's extremely advanced, and even some adults can't manage a corporeal Patronus."
"Yeah, it was," Harry shrugged.
"Wait, yeah...I've seen my dad cast it before, to send messages!" said Ron. "Only, his was a dog...what was yours, Harry?"
"A stag," Harry said. "Same as my dad's."
"Are you sure?" Hermione frowned. "It didn't look like a stag…it had no antlers..."
"I think so," Harry muttered. He hadn't gotten a good glimpse of the animal before it cantered off after the dementor. Could his Patronus have changed? What would it be, if not a stag? A hippogriff, maybe? He couldn't think of what else it would have become.
"What's wrong with Neville?" said Ron, noticing the boy for the first time, still trembling and curled in a ball at their feet.
"Help me lift him up," said Harry. Ron knelt down to help Harry hoist Neville up by the shoulders, placing him back in a seat. Harry dug through the pile of sweets they'd purchased from the trolley and located a Chocolate Frog, unwrapping it and thrusting it into his hands. "Here, Neville, eat this."
Neville muttered something incoherent, but he shakily lifted the frog to his lips and took a bite. After a few more unsteady nibbles, his breathing slowed and his eyes cracked open, darting around the compartment nervously.
"That was bloody awful," he groaned.
"Don't worry, it's gone," Harry reassured him. The train had rumbled back to life and resumed its journey to Hogsmeade.
"Who was that screaming?" Neville asked, looking around. "It sounded like a woman."
"No one was screaming, Neville," Hermione frowned.
"I swear I heard it!" Neville insisted. "Someone was saying, 'not him...take me instead'…"
Harry felt a profound sadness for Neville in that moment. He knew exactly what he was hearing: repressed memories of his mother begging Voldemort for her child's life. He'd encountered the same memories in his last timeline, and while he was grateful he was no longer as affected by the dementors now, he felt terribly for Neville having to carry that burden himself.
But he couldn't bring himself to explain in that moment. It didn't feel like the time or place to lay something so heavy on the poor kid. "Just eat," Harry said instead, digging once more through the pile for more chocolate and handing some to Ron and Hermione. "It'll make you feel better."
Ron and Neville dutifully munched on their Chocolate Frogs, but Hermione was regarding Harry with an odd expression on her face. Is she on to me? Harry wondered. He'd made it two full years in this timeline without people questioning how he knew so much more advanced magic than his peers. Would she catch on to his secret? He simply gave her a reassuring smile and selected a frog of his own to soothe his anxiety.
The rest of the trip was uneventful and mostly quiet, as Neville shivered quietly in his seat and Ron did his best to cheer his friend up. The train pulled into Hogsmeade Station well past dark, and students began disembarking with their luggage to find a carriage up to the castle.
"Go on down to the lake, Tori," Harry heard a familiar voice say, and turned to see Daphne ushering her younger sister towards the dirt path with the other first-years. "You'll be perfectly fine."
"Ugh, I know that, Daph," scoffed Astoria, prying her arm free of her sister. "I don't need a babysitter." Harry was briefly reminded of his own sister by the petulant way she stomped away, and had to suppress a smirk when Daphne turned his way.
One carriage ride later, and Harry found himself back in the cozy Great Hall with his fellow Ravenclaws. The room was full to near-capacity with loudly-talking students, catching up with friends and complaining loudly about the late hour. Harry himself was rather hungry; the train ride had been stressful and unnaturally long, and there was no sign that the Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.
"What's taking so long?" grumbled Terry Boot, glancing around the Hall. "Shouldn't the first years be here already?"
Dumbledore must have sensed the restless energy in the room, for he soon stood to take the podium, raising both hands to hush the students. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place momentarily," he announced. "But first, we might as well get introductions out of the way!
"Welcome back to a new year at Hogwarts, everyone! As some of you may have noticed, the school is playing host to the dementors of Azkaban this year to protect the school from escaped convict Peter Pettigrew. I would ask everyone to exercise caution when around these creatures, as they will not distinguish between friend or foe if you find yourself in between them and their intended prey."
The students muttered nervously to one another at this announcement. Clearly Harry's compartment had not been the only one to receive an unwanted dementor visit on the train…
"We also have two new staffing changes to announce!" Dumbledore went on. "Firstly, join me in welcoming our new Care of Magical Creatures instructor, Rubeus Hagrid!"
There was a polite smattering of applause as Hagrid awkwardly stood from the Head Table and nodded to the crowd. Harry could hear Hermione, Neville and Ron whooping and cheering louder than most, causing the half-giant to redden and beam at them.
"Doesn't Hagrid usually bring the first-years across the lake?" muttered Padma Patil. "Wonder who's in charge this year?"
As if on cue, a side door opened, and the first-years filed into the Great Hall, staring about the room in wonder. At once the students began gossiping loudly, as all eyes were drawn to the man at the front of the line, leading the new students in. A tall, thin man with wire-rimmed glasses, holding his wand aloft to guide a silvery stag Patronus ahead of them.
"Ah, and here comes our second new hire!" Dumbledore beamed. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a hand to our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, distinguished Auror James Potter!"
The crowd applauded even louder than they had for Hagrid, many standing from their seats to get a better look at the man. Clearly his reputation preceded him. Harry simply gawked at his father in awe...he hadn't even considered it a possibility that he might teach them this year! Why had he not said anything? His eyes found Dahlia across the room, and she too looked surprised.
"Sorry we're late, Headmaster," James said sheepishly, waving his wand to dissipate the stag. "A few stray dementors decided to follow us across the lake."
"Not to worry, Professor!" Dumbledore beamed, turning back to address the students. "The Ministry has kindly loaned us Professor Potter for one year as an added measure of defense. And as you just saw, he is quite adept with the Patronus Charm, so if anyone would like to learn how to defend themselves against dementors, I'm sure he would be glad to help." James nodded his assent as he took his place at the Head Table beside Hagrid.
"Blimey, Potter, why didn't you tell us your Dad's teaching us this year?" said Terry Boot in awe as McGonagall stepped forward to begin the Sorting Ceremony.
"I had no idea," Harry said honestly. "He didn't tell me."
"I don't get it...who's his dad?" asked Kevin Entwhistle.
"Are you daft? He's probably the most decorated Auror alive, aside from Mad-Eye Moody of course!" said Anthony Goldstein.
"Go easy on him; he's Muggle-born," sighed Padma Patil. "But that's really exciting, Harry! D'you think he'll help Flitwick run the Dueling Club this year?"
"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "Though I have a feeling Dumbledore with keep him busy with—"
"Hey, hush!" a sharp voice came from across the aisle; Daphne Greengrass was leaning over from the Slytherin table to reprimand him. "My sister's about to be Sorted...show some respect!"
Harry sighed and focused his attention back on the first-years anxiously awaiting their turn. I'm sure Astoria will wind up in the snake den just like her, he thought as the first few names were called and Sorted. Might as well be polite.
But the next name McGonagall called shook Harry to his core. At first he thought he didn't hear her right...there was simply no way that name was correct. But one look at the portly, terrified-looking blonde boy as he timidly approached the Sorting Hat confirmed his fears. He sought out his sister at the Gryffindor table, and his father at the Head Table, who both wore matching looks of astonishment. He had heard McGonagall perfectly clearly after all:
"Dursley, Damian!"
The boy was the spitting image of his older brother Dudley, so much so that Harry would have believed it to be him if he hadn't heard the name right. His mind raced as McGonagall placed the hat on Damian's head. Had Vernon and Petunia had a second child in this timeline? Perhaps without the burden of baby Harry being left on their doorstep, they would have done so. But the boy was magical? He did share Lily Evans' lineage after all, so it would make sense that another Muggle-born would be produced from that line.
Did his mother know that this was going to happen? Harry remembered the conversation he'd overheard between his parents earlier that summer – the unpleasantness Lily had faced from Vernon and Marge. Had they already received Damian's Hogwarts letter? Were they supportive of their son coming to Hogwarts, or did they resist, as they had with Harry? The look of fear and discomfort on the boy's face indicated that it might be the latter.
After a few minutes of deliberation, the Sorting Hat finally declared, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The yellow-and-black table cheered politely as Damian timidly approached his new House.
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered in disbelief.
"You know that kid, Potter?" asked Michael Corner.
"Yeah...he's my cousin," said Harry.
"I didn't know you had magical cousins, Harry!" said Hermione.
"I didn't either," Harry chuckled. "He's Muggle-born."
"Poor chap looks about to wet himself," guffawed Terry Boot as Damian took his seat and the next first-year was called up by McGonagall. Harry couldn't disagree: he never thought he'd feel anything akin to sympathy for a Dursley, but he could only imagine what Damian must be feeling at this moment. Alone, hundreds of miles from home, in a world he didn't know existed a few weeks prior. Would he even be able to function in such a setting?
Harry finally tore his eyes away from Damian when "Greengrass, Astoria" was called. The platinum-haired girl skipped up and sat excitedly on the stool. The Sorting Hat took about thirty seconds before declaring her a "GRYFFINDOR!"
The red and gold table roared with appreciation, as Harry heard a small groan of frustration behind him. He turned to see Daphne shaking her head as her little sister headed off to the opposite side of the Hall to join her new House. "Gryffindor's not so bad," Harry reassured her. "She'll make plenty of friends there, I'm sure."
"She'll be wasted in Gryffindor," lamented Daphne. "She has too much potential to spend all her time with those meatheads!"
Harry was mildly scandalized by this insinuation; despite no longer being a Gryffindor himself, he still felt a strong affinity and affection for the House and its inhabitants. He turned back to watch the rest of the Sorting, still distracted by the unexpected arrival of a cousin he didn't even know existed minutes before.
As soon as the Sorting ended and the Feast began, Harry excused himself and rushed up to the Head Table to confront his father. "Did you know about this?" he demanded.
"Not until yesterday," said James in between bites of asparagus. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Fudge wanted an Auror stationed at the school for added protection and to keep an eye on Dumbled—"
"Not you!" Harry groaned. "Him!" And he pointed towards the Hufflepuff table, at the blond eleven-year-old staring suspiciously at the plates of food around him, too afraid to take a bite.
"Oh...that," James sighed, setting down his fork. "Your mother mentioned that he seemed withdrawn at dinner the other night. But your aunt and uncle never said anything, or even suggested this was a possibility—"
"What are we going to do about this?" Harry demanded.
"What is there to do?" James shrugged. "Let him experience Hogwarts for himself, I suppose. I'll owl your mother about it in the morning."
Harry was shocked at his father's nonchalance about the whole thing. Perhaps as a pure-blood he didn't realize what a culture shock Damian must be experiencing – the same culture shock Harry had experienced in his first timeline. And Damian didn't have the same support system to guide him on his journey. He returned to his seat, contemplating what his next move should be.
Once the Feast concluded and the students began filing out of the Hall, Harry rushed over towards the Hufflepuff Table, searching for the blonde-haired boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. Had he already left the Hall at the earliest convenience? Would he even know how to get to the Hufflepuff common room? Harry instead spotted a familiar face and changed course.
"Ron? Hey, Ron!" he called out. Ron Weasley broke away from Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley to face him.
"What's up, Harry?" he asked.
"Listen...there's a new first-year in your House," said Harry. "Blond, overweight kid. You saw him?"
"Yeah, rings a bell," said Ron. "Why, what about him?"
"He's my cousin," said Harry. "Muggle-born. I don't think he knew he was a wizard until this summer."
"Whoa!" Ron said, wide-eyed. "Good for him!"
"Yeah, I guess," Harry muttered. "D'you reckon you could help him out, if you get the chance? Show him around the common room, explain how things work? I think he might feel a bit out of place at the moment."
"Sure, I'll try," Ron shrugged. And the redhead rejoined his House mates to file out of the Great Hall. Harry watched him go, hoping this would be enough. Despite his distaste for his aunt, uncle and older cousin, Damian Dursley was still family. And Harry felt compelled to help the kid any way he could.