Chapter 1: Born Without
Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Born Without
What would it be like, to have a dream of yours come true? To discover that yes, all the impossible things denied in life were suddenly possible to obtain?
What would you do, then, when you discover that all that wonder and joy was real, but out of reach? And then, that those around you cruelly mocked you for being unable to attain what should have been yours – could have been yours! – if not for a cruel quirk of fate.
Soul crushing despair, perhaps? Demand a refund? Or curse the fact that, apparently, wish-fulfillment operated on Monkey Paw logic and rules?
All of the above. I went through the Five Stages of Grief when I learned and experienced that hard, horrible truth.
To explain what I mean, I have to explain what happened to me.
What happened is I died.
I got hit with a car when trying to cross a bridge over the Duwamish River in Seattle, Washington. I died because the asshole driver knocked me over into the river, and paralyzed by pain and a pair of broken legs, I ended up drowning.
The experience was… unpleasant, to say the least. I died trying to scream, and was reborn screaming, fittingly enough. I was a loud baby, from what my parents told me as I grew up.
Still, that was that. I died. And then, for some reason, I was reborn into the world of Harry Potter.
How could I tell? Well, the fact that, when I was starting to gain – or, more accurately, regain – awareness of my surroundings I swiftly realized I was in an old, Victorian style house. I wouldn't call it a manor, but it was bigger on the inside than outer appearances would allow for.
Objects floated around and did things by themselves, my parents walked around with pointy sticks that shot jets of sparks and colorful light, and there was a wide-eyed, floppy eared horror known as a House Elf that did the chores around the house.
So, yeah. Kind of obvious, once my previous life's memories started to trickle back in around the time I was one and a half years old. By the time I was three, all of my former memories and experiences had returned, and I began to learn about the situation I'd ended up in.
On April First, 1976, I was reborn as Erroneous Edwards Hunch Jr., to Erroneous Hunch, head of House Hunch, and Wisteria Hunch nee Kettlepoke. Everyone called me Edward, thankfully.
I had brown hair and blue eyes, with ears a bit bigger than normal, and had a fairly average looking face, save for my oddly pointy chin that I inherited from my father.
I had a brother, two years younger than me, named Rudolf. God, I pitied his name. Better than mine, though, but only slightly. At least I could go by my middle name. He didn't have that luck, and ended up being called Rudy by friends and family alike. At least he had a normal chin.
Regarding my new family in this world, the Hunches were a Pureblood family, and a very minor noble one at that. So minor, that it was in name only. We had the title, but little else. No vast fortune, not a lot of land, and hardly any magical secrets or talents. And certainly no seat on the Wizengamot!
To make ends meet, mother brewed potions for Saint Mungo's, and father was a lesser clerk in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Rules and Regulations, which was a sub-division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It didn't bring in a lot of money, but we lived comfortably. It helped that we owned the house we lived in, and like many older families, had access to centuries worth of clutter and junk that was worth a pretty penny – or knut in this case – if we were forced to find additional income.
I'd learned that magical families were pretty spendthrift in general. Why buy new chairs when a spell could not only fix 'em up, but change their look and feel completely? Dirt and grime were silly little things compared to a Scourgify or persistent House Elf. And who need electricity when a couple runes etched onto some copper provided all the light you needed for free? Magic let our hidden society do away with the need for the rampant capitalism the Muggle world took for granted.
Oh, and something else I discovered as I grew up was that father was a Death Eater. Yeah, that'd been an unpleasant shock. He'd strutted around the house with his sleeves rolled up for months after his 'initiation,' proudly displaying that accursed skull tattoo to all of his family members.
Up until November of 1981, of course, at which point he began to cover up his mark and walk around with a lot less confidence and swagger.
Father dearest almost bankrupted us and used up numerous favors to get the courts to drop his name from the list of Death Eaters. He pleaded the Imperious, and just barely managed to escape Azkaban.
After 1982, Erroneous became a different man. Well, not too different, honestly. He'd always had a foul temper and a drinking problem, but all of that got much, much worse after Voldemort's defeat and he was demoted several ranks in the office. And all of that anger and resentment ended up being dealt out to his family. Me, in particular.
Now, you might be wondering where I'm going with this. No doubt it seems that, so far, besides a few issues with parentage and money, I was still in the clear. Older than Harry, the future protagonist, so I could better prepare for canon, at the very least.
Well, guess again.
See, I was not lucky, at all. I was born not as a magical, but a Squib.
Yup. A Squib. Reborn into the Potter-Verse, but I couldn't do the one thing that would have made such a reincarnation worth it.
I couldn't cast magic! No wand for me!
Mother had cried for days when we couldn't deny the facts any longer. Father had… well, I'd have preferred it if he had just ignored me and left me alone. But no, apparently being born a Squib was all my fault, and that I'd cursed the family somehow.
Not a single spark of arcane power ever manifested around me. My brother had burped up glowing bubbles when he was four, yet I'd not even shown the slightest hint of accidental magic. I tried, though, I desperately tried!
I attempted to meditate, I tried to focus my willpower and cast windlessly, I sought to look inward and find my mental space, or something else that would reveal my magic. I even said the incantations and waved the wands my parents told me to try and use! I did everything other Potter-Verse self inserts attempted, and yet nothing worked!
The pain and disappointment was crippling, for me and my parents. They tried everything to coax magic out of me, even emulating Neville's uncle and dropping me into life threatening situations. All I got out of that was bruises, cuts, and broken bones.
Father shunned me. Rudy followed suite, at first merely because he was imitating father, but as he grew up, Erroneous Hunch's vile teachings and ideals seeped into him, and he became a cruel, spiteful brat.
Slugs in my bed. Dog shit in my pillows. Bubotuber puss in my clothes and nails in my shoes. Rudy's 'pranks' left just as many scars on my body as father's attempts at 'forcing the magic out of me' did.
Seven years of living like that. Seven years of hell. But it would soon be over.
The year is 1987. July 31st, the final day to respond to – and receive – a Hogwarts letter came and went. No owl. No letter. No teacher showing up at the last minute with an apology or excuse or anything.
And thus, it was confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that I was indeed a Squib, a shame to the Hunch family.
It was August 1st, 1987, and dinner was a somber affair. Father stewed angrily, glaring at the food mother had cooked. Garlic porkchops with cheesy mashed potatoes and sparkling apple cider. My favorites.
Rudy sneered at me the few times he bothered to acknowledge my existence at the table, and mother… cried. Quietly, and into a handkerchief.
Wisteria Hunch, my mother in this life, was not a strong woman. Her marriage had been arranged shortly after she'd graduated Hogwarts, and there'd been little love in the relationship to begin with. There'd been some, when Rudy and I had been born, but after Voldemort's defeat father grew harsher towards her, and the love shriveled up and died.
She tried to be a good mother. She loved me, Squib that I was. Truly, she did, and I, well, even though I never really considered her my mother thanks to the memories of my last life, I did care for her, and hated it when father struck or yelled at her. But Wisteria was weak willed. She never tried to stop Erroneous Hunch from hitting her or me when his temper flared, nor did she protest him spending all our money on alcohol. She just sat there and took it, and then cried in private.
So, there I was, sitting down at the table, eating what was surely my last meal. Father had threatened me enough times to know I was either getting Obliviated and then dumped at a Muggle orphanage, or straight up murdered and my corpse thrown into a ditch. Either was possible, depending on the mood that struck him when he finally made his decision.
I ate, and mentally went over my plans and options. I didn't have many, and they were all unpleasant in the short term.
When Inky, our withered old House Elf, magicked the plates away, I knew I'd run out of time. I got up quietly and ran to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I quickly grabbed a pillowcase I'd stuffed with various items; spare changes of clothes, pocket money I'd diligently collected over the years and hidden in a fake book, some texts and tomes, a bit of food in the form of sweets and candy, and of course a map of London and a list of the bus routes I could use to get into the city.
Then, I opened my window and tossed it out. It landed in the bushes, but no one was around to notice. I was about to flee out the window myself when the door was practically blown off its hinges with a deafening bang, and father stormed in, face red with anger and drunkenness.
"You're coming with me!" he snarled, grabbing my arm and dragging me away to his 'office.' It was really just a room he sat and brooded in, but I wasn't in a position to argue his choice of name for it. I couldn't even fight him off physically!
I tried to break free, but I was too small and weak to do so, and he kicked the door to his office open and tossed me in. In the background, I heard mother screeching at him to stop, and he turned around to yell at her.
I took the moment he was distracted and urgently uttered a single word. "Inky!"
The old House Elf popped in over to me, looking sad. "Yes, Young Master Error?"
His cutesy nickname for me filled with me disgust as it always did, and I glared at him as I gave him a single command. "Plan B, Inky."
The House Elf's eyes widened, but he bowed his head and popped away. Thankfully, father hadn't noticed, too busy screaming at mother. Eventually he grew fed up with her hysterics, and slammed the door shut. Then, he drew his wand, and cast a Silencing charm over the room. Now, no one could hear us, and we couldn't hear them.
I swallowed nervously, and stayed on the floor, not daring to get up. It didn't keep me safe as I'd hoped as father kicked me in the stomach as he stomped over to his chair. Erroneous sat down in it heavily, glaring at me darkly as I gasped for air.
"Today is the last day you'll be a problem for me," he declared. "You won't darken our home with your foul unnaturalness any longer."
"Father, please, whatever it is you're going to do to me, don't!" I managed to plead. "I'll leave! I can work with mother's family in the potion industry! Not every potion needs a wand to be brewed! Or maybe-!"
He cut me off with a Stinging Hex to the face and I howled in pain. The only saving grace was that he'd missed my eyes. The last time he'd hit me there, I'd been blind for a few days until mother's potions healed the damage.
"No," he said darkly. "No, you do not get to beg. You are a disgrace to this family, and I will not let you ruin our good name!"
"What good name?!" I snapped back, anger and hate boiling over and eroding my sense of self-preservation. "You're a Death Eater! You're lower than dirt! You ruined the family's name years ago when you sucked that bald snake's dick!"
"HOW DARE YOU?!" Erroneous roared, jumping up out of his seat with murder in his bloodshot eyes. He hit me with a few hexes and at the same time kicked me repeatedly, calling me every filthy derogative name he could think of.
I couldn't do anything but lie there and take it. But he quickly ran out of steam, his years of heavy drinking doing him no favors, and when he was done he dropped back into his chair, panting heavily with a red-going-on-purple face and looking down at me with a crazed expression in his eyes.
For a moment, I feared he might curse me to death then and there, but instead, he hollered for Inky.
"How may Inky serve master?" the House Elf asked in a wavering voice.
"Fetch me a drink!" Erroneous snarled, and there was a series of pops. A couple seconds later, and the old servant of the house passed my father a bottle of gin he'd brought, as requested.
Instead of thanking the House Elf, Erroneous hit him over the head with a glancing blow with the bottle, sending the poor elf sprawling.
"Do it faster next time, you lazy shit!" my father snarled. He then tore the cork out with his teeth and guzzled the alcohol straight from the source, his lips clamped around the neck.
He drained half of it before he put it down, gasping for air. The evil look in his eyes hadn't lessened at all, though he did look slightly unfocused.
"Now, you listen here, you little shit," he snarled at me. "You're nothing. NOTHING! The only thing you're good for is as meat."
He then gave me a dark, terrifying grin. "I've been in contact with some hags in Knockturn Alley. They'll pay a pretty sum for a fresh and tender morsel like you!"
I stared up at him, horrified and disgust, and he just laughed. "Yeah… Yeah! That's the best thing a Squib like you is good for!"
He laughed some more, but then froze, a strangled "Urk!" escaping his lips, and he clutched his chest, the bottle slipping from slack fingers. It shattered and spilled the contents everywhere, and the next thing I knew, Erroneous Hunch was writhing on the ground, face turning disturbingly purple.
Broken glass from the bottle dug into his arms and torso, cutting him up badly. The color soon drained from his face, and he began to twitch violently, trying to scream or make a noise other than the foul gurgling he was currently making.
For a moment, his eyes met mine, and they widened in realization, but it was too late. Erroneous let out a rattling wheeze and slumped, moving no more.
Cheap alcohol and blood was beginning to seep into the carpet and my clothes, and I staggered up, not wanting to get wet.
I looked over at Inky, who lay stunned on the ground, still dazed from the blow father had given him. I could barely move myself, so I simply staggered over to a cleaner spot on the floor and lay down.
Then, I opened my mouth and began to scream.
The Silencing spell around the room had fallen along with my father, and the door was instantly opened by my mother. Wisteria rushed in, and took one look at the scene before her before letting out a scream of her own.
An hour and several concerned neighbors later, and the Aurors were cleaning up some of the mess while a witch from Saint Mungo's was looking me over, my mother hovering at my side nervously.
"Heart attack," one of the investigators declared, his words drawled out without an ounce of sympathy. "Too much to drink, too much anger, too much stress… he was gonna pop a valve sooner or later. Not even magic could keep this guy's ticker going forever with all the abuse he put on it. Guess tonight was just too much of everything for him."
They'd scanned the body, of course. And checked the spilt drink for anything unusual. No traces of poisons or potions in either. Medical scans from the medi-witches confirmed it; Erroneous Hunch Senior had had a heart attack in the midst of beating his eldest son half to death. And since his loyal House Elf had been unfortunately incapacitated, there was no way to save him.
Tragic, but fitting. No tears would be shed by any of father's few acquaintances, and only mother would weep for him. Though she did that over everything. And I had a feeling these would be tears of happiness and relief, rather than sorrow or regret.
'Rudy might sob a bit,' I thought as another Episkey spell sealed up my split lip. 'And I guess Granny Hunch. But that's it.'
"There you go, all better," the nurse told me, giving me a faint smile. "You'll be right as rain when September rolls around. None of your classmates will know you were ever hurt!"
"He isn't, um, that is to say, Edward won't going to Hogwarts this year," Wisteria said softly, and the nurse tilted her head at that but merely shrugged it off.
"He's already had one, but I'd suggest another Calming Draught before he goes to bed. And if he can't sleep after that, an Elixir of Dreamless Sleep ought to do it."
Wisteria thanked the woman, assuring her she'd followed the instructions, and the witch departed the house, apparating away back to St. Mungo's.
After that, the body of Erroneous Hunch Senior was removed from his study, the blood, booze and broken glass magicked away, and a few rote platitudes were given before the Aurors and investigators departed.
And just like that, it was all over.
When everyone was gone, and Rudy was put to bed – under the effects of a Calming Draught himself – mother tucked me into bed herself.
'It feels like forever since she's done that,' I thought, smiling faintly as she kissed my forehead and turned off the light with a swish of her wand.
Before she left my bedroom, however, she paused at the doorway, and looked back, biting her lower lip.
"Edward, did you… did you do it? To him?" she asked nervously.
"I'm a Squib, mom," I replied dully. "How could I have killed him?"
She nodded, relief in her eyes, and she left, closing the door behind me.
I lay there, curled up in my sheets for a few minutes and stared at the ceiling.
"Inky?" I eventually whispered, and the House Elf appeared next to me. I'd gotten used to him over the years, but I couldn't help but shudder a bit at how his big eyes seems to glow in the dark as he looked at me.
"Yes, Young Master Error?"
"Thank you," I said softly. Inky didn't say anything, and I heard him disappear with a pop shortly afterwards.
'I suppose I'll have to get my stuff out of the bushes tomorrow,' I thought to myself. 'I really didn't want to have to rely on Plan B, but damn that man for forcing my hand!'
I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what was awaiting me in the future.
&&&&&
Author's Note: FYI, this chapter will be as dark as it gets, so no worries.
So, this is a take on the Harry Potter series, but from a different angle. Magic takes a lot of different forms in the Harry Potter universe, and the wizarding society is rather inept, so why not have a character who wants to change things by using magic from a different angle?
Just a heads up, but this one will take a lesser priority to the Nier fic. I want to finish that one before delving further with this one, so updates will be less frequent for the moment.
Chapter 2: Planning and Playing
Chapter Text
Chapter 2: Planning and Playing
A long, restful sleep later, it was eight in the morning and I was wide awake, ready to tackle the day. Ideas swirled in my mind, though there wasn't much chance I could work on most of them.
'First things first,' I thought as I got dressed.
"Good morning, mom," I said in greeting as I walked into the dining room.
"Edward, good morning!" Wisteria exclaimed, looking up from the table where she'd been reading the Daily Prophet. "You're up early! Do you feel alright? Is everything fine? No aches or pains?"
"No, mom, I feel much better today," I told her, giving her a reassuring smile. "Thank goodness for potions, huh?"
My attempt at humor fell flat, as my mother continued to look worried. She also looked dreadfully tired, and I wondered how many hours of sleep she'd actually gotten.
"Mom, we need to talk," I said, deciding to go ahead and get some of the items on my mental list finished.
"Should I ask Inky to bring you a cup of tea, maybe something to eat for breakfast?" Wisteria asked, and I nodded after a moment.
I slid into a chair while listening with half an ear as mother called for Inky and then made her request to the old House Elf. A couple minutes and a few popping noises later and before me there was a cup of Earl Grey and a plate of scrambled eggs, baked beans, and three slices of toast.
"What did you want to discuss?" Wisteria inquired as I began to eat.
"Mom, I love you, but I don't… I can't keep living here, in this house," I finally admitted after chewing and swallowing.
"What? Why not?" she asked, teary eyed.
"I'm a Squib, mom," I said, as if it explained everything. And sadly, it did. "Rudy will probably blame me for father's death, and that will only cause friction between us."
"He's your brother!" Wisteria snapped.
"He's also been ruined by father's opinions and views," I pointed out, which mother was unable to deny beyond a token, "He can change!"
"He can't change while I'm here, reminding him every day of father, and why he isn't here anymore," I claimed. "So, I want to move out."
"And do what, Edward?" Wisteria wondered. "My parents could take you in…"
"I want to move to London," I interrupted. "I want to… live my life the way I want to."
"As a Muggle?" she asked incredulously.
"How many opportunities are there for a Squib in the magical society?" I asked my mother. "At best I might be able to get a job as a stockboy or some other menial task in one of Diagon Alley's shops, but it'd be seen as charity at best and I would always be looked down upon. Squibs don't live a good life among wizards and witches. The best chance we have is to try and succeed among the Muggles."
Mother looked like she wanted to refute my words, but again, she couldn't. I was speaking the truth, after all.
In the end, she sighed heavily in defeat, and surrendered. "Very well. I will look into this," Wisteria declared, standing up from the table as she did so.
"I have to go in to the Ministry soon to go over your father's will and other documents. I do not know how long it will take, but while I am there, I will make… inquiries. I know one or two people who may know how to help us with your… transition."
I nodded, and waved goodbye as she went to freshen up and take the Floo to the Ministry. That left me alone in the kitchen, one step of my plans complete.
'She agreed a lot easier than I thought she would,' I thought to myself. 'She must really be out of it.'
Normally, she'd have tried to argue with me a lot harder about staying. She was always trying to keep me 'safe' after all. 'Babied' was more accurate, though thankfully mother never acted like I was an invalid.
I gave a mumbled "Thanks" to Inky as the House Elf took the dishes away, and I walked out of the house, blinking weakly in the morning sunlight. The sun was already rising on the horizon, and our house had the misfortune of being directly in its path. This was good for the garden, but not much else, in my opinion.
'First things first,' I thought, circling around the side of the house to where my room was. I found my sack of belongs I'd tossed out there last night, and thought about what to do with it as I looked through its contents. Luckily, everything was still in there, undisturbed.
'If I put it back in my room, Rudy will likely find it,' I thought with a grimace. 'I could ask Inky to hide it for me. But there's clothing in it. Will he even be able to touch it without breaking the bond he has with the family?'
'Actually, now that father is dead, who is the primary bond-keeper?' I wondered, scrunching up my face in thought. 'A House Elf can survive just fine without a bond, at least for a while. Is it mother? Or could it be me? Can a Squib even maintain a bond? I have magic, I just can't use it.'
I shook my head, having gotten distracted. 'Ugh, thoughts for later.' "INKY!" I called out aloud. There was a pop, and then, from behind me, I heard it.
"Yes, Young Master Error?"
"Gah! Sonnova!" I swore, jerking a bit in surprise. "Please don't pop up behind me like that!"
"Of course," Inky said with a nod of his head, ears flapping this way and that. "How can I be of service?"
"Hide this from mother and Rudy," I told him, gesturing to the sack tangled up in the bushes. Inky raised an eyebrow but did as I asked, and a snap of his fingers later it was gone.
"Is there anything else?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Yes. Keep Rudy in the house whenever he eventually wakes up. If he complains or tries to leave, just let him know mother will be back soon and pop him back into his room."
"Yes, Young Master Error."
"And stop calling me that," I snapped, a bit testily. "If you must call me something, call me 'Master Edward.'"
"Of course, Young Master Edward," Inky said, and I swore the elf waggled his eyebrows at me all cheeky like.
"I'm going for a walk," I informed Inky, and the House Elf merely nodded before vanishing.
I returned to the walkway and headed down away from the house. Once I left the property, I turned around and glanced back at it.
The Hunch's, like many magical families, had lived in one house for so long it'd gotten a lot of, shall we say, personality. And, just like quite a few magical homes, it had a name. Hunch Manor was called Lumpkins Patch, for reasons I could only guess at.
The building was oddly rounded on the north side, and a belfry jutted up out of the west wing for some unfathomable reason. The roof tiles were all orange. And not a subdued, dark or burnt orange like sensible people, but bright, pumpkin orange hued. A line of moss-covered stone snail statues – some smaller than my fist, others coming up to my waist – lined the walkways, forming a border between the flagstones of the path leading up to the front door and the garden
Said garden was quite vast, and mainly used for providing homegrown potion ingredients for my mother's work, though a few tulips and marigolds brought up some color during the spring and summer. The garden took up all of the front and back lawn, and memories of weeding it with her flickered through my mind. Those had been good times, some of the few decent ones I had of this place.
Finished with my inspection of my soon-to-be former home, I turned and walk off, following a plain dirt road down through the hills and past some fields towards the sole source of civilization for miles in any direction.
The Hunch family lived in Ottery St. Catchpole, a mixed community with about a dozen families in it, both magical and Muggle in Devon, England.
And yes, it meant that the Burrow was nearby, and the Weasleys and Lovegoods were my neighbors.
Ottery St. Catchpole was a typical mixed rural settlement. Muggle homes and businesses clustered close together in the 'center' of town, while all the magical folk lived a few minutes away in warded, undetectable (to Muggles at least) structures. Unless you lived in an urban center like one of the Alleys in London or a magical enclave in another city, magical houses were at least a ten minutes' walk away from your closest neighbor or town center.
Many of the magical families in the area were Purebloods, and old and childless. The consequences of two magical wars less than half a century apart having done considerable damage to the already thin on the ground magical population. You rarely saw any of the older magicals out and about these days.
Except I saw a pack of red-head children hovering around the general store, and couldn't help but wince.
"Oh, joy," I muttered as one of them – Ron – caught sight of me, and tugged on the sleeve on an older brother to get his attention. Charlie, I think, given that there was a taller and older sibling nearby who was probably William – or Bill, as he preferred to be called.
All seven of the Weasley children turned, alerted by Ron, and seemed to home in on me like a pack of red seeker missiles. Two identical brothers, the prankster duo Fred and George, were the first to reach me. They were nine, two years my junior and the same age as Rudy.
Seeing them coming I merely accepted my fate, opening my arms and closing my eyes.
"ED!" the twins both called out as they tackled me to the ground with their 'hug.'
"Oof!" I choked out, their affection driving the breath from my lungs. A couple seconds later Ron and Ginny joined in, adding themselves to dogpile atop of me.
"Being crushed! Air!" I gasped out.
"Careful now, don't want to suffocate the poor bloke," Bill said, nudging his siblings off of me before offering his hand to help me up.
I took it, and got back to my feet and dusted myself off, before giving them all a thin smile in greeting.
"Hey there, everybody. What, no hug for me, Percy?" I teased the Weasley boy who was my age. He shook his head, already developing his 'stick in the mud' attitude the books and movies had displayed. Still, he did shake my hand when I offered it. And to be honest, as an introvert, Percy's calmer personality meshed better with my own.
"So, what's up with the early morning greeting?" I asked, trying not to sound put off by their enthusiasm.
It's not that I disliked the Weasley's, far from it. The Weasley kids and their dad were great, and I'd grown up with them. Hell, I'd seen two of them as babies and was practically an honorary older brother to Ginny and Ron, who had been very cute as newborns.
But I'd hoped that, perhaps today, I could have had a little bit of time alone before the Red Whirlwinds struck.
"We heard about… your dad. And everything else," Charlie said hesitantly. The others all gained grave expressions at that. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I said brusquely.
"You sure?" Bill inquired.
"I don't really want to talk about," I claimed, looking at the ground and kicking it, uncomfortable with their stares. Pity and sympathy were evident in their gazes and it hurt. Even if they didn't know the whole truth about what went on back at Lumpkin Patch, they were aware of how I'd been treated.
The 'mature' adult part of me, the one that had been in my late twenties before dying, felt insulted by their compassion. The child part of me, which I technically was at the moment, disliked all the attention. Because attention was bad. It rarely boded well for me back home. But there was also a part of me that was glad to know someone cared.
I shuddered at the warring emotions within me, and the red-heads seemed to realize they were making me uncomfortable because Ginny was the first to come up and give me a gentle, non-tackle-based hug.
"Thank you," was all I was able to say.
"Mom said she was going to bake you guys some food and stuff," Ron helpfully supplied, and I grimaced.
"Tell her thank you, but she shouldn't bother taking anything over today," I said. "Mom went out to deal with the paperwork and visit the morgue. It's just me and Rudy right now. But, uh, tell her thanks, and maybe bring it over tomorrow?"
Bill and Charlie both nodded in understanding, the former walking off to no doubt pass my message on before their mother did too much pity baking.
I sighed in relief. One disaster averted. 'I have no idea if Mom or I would have been able to deal with her so soon after father's death,' I thought to myself in distaste.
Molly Weasley was a disturbingly unpleasant woman. The few times I'd met her, I'd gotten an eerie sense of uncanny valley from her. She was nice enough, I suppose, but the matriarch of the Weasley Clan (the proper term for a Pureblood family who were not nobles) was definitely the epitome of how backwards the Wizarding World truly was. She could bake a nice batch of cookies or a pie or whatever, and then spout the most bigoted and racist things with a smile, as if she had no idea what she'd just uttered was backwards by modern standards.
She might not have been a Death Eater, but Mrs. Weasley was without a doubt a Conservative, and displayed all the tiny evils of a person raised in an environment that was behind the times.
For instance, she thought that Veela were all homewrecking harlots, that if there wasn't a spell or magical equivalent of something, than it wasn't worth it, and that Muggles were useful only for providing 'new blood' into the Wizarding World, while their inventions and achievements were looked down upon in a very patronizing, 'that's nice dear,' sort of way. The sort of way you'd condescendingly praise a toddler for drawing on the wall in crayon.
She believed that children should be seen and not heard, and that a woman's place was in a household, and while they could work, it was either because it was part of the family business, or as a means to find a husband. Oh, and any woman past thirty who hadn't married yet was a failure as a female.
And this was not seen as a problem. If anything, Molly Weasley was the perfect example of a witch who'd been raised in the magical world all her life. Her opinions – that she vocally espoused almost constantly – were simply the norm.
It made me sick. So, I was quite glad when Mrs. Molly 'Holier Than Thou' Weasley started snubbing my family for its 'dark inclinations' and 'unsavory past' a couple years ago.
Since I was the same age as Percy Weasley, and one of the few other magical kids in the whole town – the others being Cedric Diggory, Sarah Fawcett, Luna Lovegood and my little brother – we ended up playing together more often than not.
And when Molly heard the rumors of me being a Squib, she'd gotten very patronizing, and encouraged her children to play with me 'despite my disability.' And yes, she used that word. Disability. As if I was lesser, somehow.
So, yeah, Neither Wisteria or I were up for a visit from Howling Molly, as she was known in town. We'd have to put up with her eventually, but her visit was staved off for now.
"Want to go throw gnomes into the river?" I asked, breaking the depressing silence, and everyone nodded, eager to do something.
"Is it true you didn't get your letter?" Ron asked as we walked towards a nearby field to root around for gnomes to toss.
"Ron!" Charlie hissed, and Percy and the twins shook their heads at their little brother's words.
"No, it's fine," I said, waving it off when Ron tried to apologize. "It's true. I'm officially a Squib."
Winces and sympathetic frowns adorned the Weasleys faces.
"What will you be doing, then?" Percy inquired.
"Muggle schools start around the same time as Hogwarts," I replied with a shrug.
"That's… far," Fred – Or was it George? – commented. "I don't even know where the nearest Muggle town is!"
"I don't even know if I'll be staying in the area," I admitted, revealing a sliver of my ultimate plan. "There might be plans for me to move out and live in London, or some other area to be closer to the Muggle schools."
"You're moving?" Ginny said sadly, and I winced at her tone.
"Yeah. Maybe," I said.
"I'll miss you," she declared.
"Me too," I replied. "But hey, if you really get lonely, you and your brothers can always write, and I can still use the Floo, even if I can't use a wand."
"True," Percy said with a nod. "And we know you can brew potions just fine. So, you can still make a living somehow."
The Weasleys all nodded, and once more I was struck by how they simply didn't even consider the chance I might try and ditch the magical world behind and make money in the Muggle world.
I wondered briefly what they'd think of my plans for the future, and stifled a chuckle. The twins would, at the very least, appreciate the chaos.
"Found some gnomes!" one of the twins called out, hoisting a stubby brown potato with arms and legs in the air.
"Great! Let get a few more for chucking!" Charlie suggested, and we rifled through the field for more deformed dirt-babies. We all got disgustingly filthy before lunch time rolled around, but we all had wide grins. It was a good day.
And, in the back of my mind, I dared hope the peace and happiness would last.
Chapter 3: Preparing for the Future
Chapter Text
Chapter 3: Preparing for the future
"Thanks for the great time today," I said, giving a smile to the seven redheads who'd been there for me all day. The sun was starting to set, dusk brushing itself over the hills and dales of rural England.
"No problem, Eddy," Fred (or maybe it was George?) said, slapping my shoulder.
"Yeah. We'll be sure to try and get mom to use some manner of tact when she approaches your family tomorrow," George (or maybe Fred?) assured me. I flinched, a grimace crinkling across my face, and the Weasleys all gave my sympathetic looks. Not because of my dead dad, but because they too knew how overbearing Hurricane Molly could be.
In a way, that was a comfort all of its own, and as we went back to our homes, I felt confident in tackling whatever came in the future.
As I got closer to Lumpkin's Patch, I saw a light on in the window that connected to the living room. The curtains were drawn, but I could see shadows moving about within.
'Seems like mom brought home a guest,' I guessed when I saw a pair of adult silhouettes pass by.
I steeled myself, and went to the front door. It opened at my touch, the magic within the doorknob sensing my bloodline, and I called out, "I'm home!" to announce my return.
As expected, mother rushed into the front hall, her expression tired but welcoming.
"Edward! You're back!" she crooned, giving me a hug. "Did you… did you have a good day?"
"I did. I played with the Weasleys," I informed her. "Uh, heads up, Mrs. Weasley may be coming over with sympathy pies tomorrow."
Her smile faltered a bit at that tidbit, but she rallied and nodded at my warning her about Hurricane Molly's imminent approach.
"Edward, I'd like you to meet someone," she said, ushering me into the living room. My guess was confirmed, there was indeed another man in there, standing in the middle of the room, waiting for us.
He was a short gentleman, with a bit of a paunch, and a head of greying brown hair. His green eyes looked me up and down, and he nodded to himself after a moment.
"Hello there. Edward, was it? My name is Archibald Tarsworth, attorney at law. And, a Squib, like yourself."
"Hello there, sir," I greeted politely, giving him a hand to shake. He took it, and gave me a firm squeeze before letting go.
"Strong grip. Excellent," he said with a pleased nod. "Now, I'm sure you are wondering why I am here."
"Not really," I said with a shrug. "Father is dead, I assume there is some need for a lawyer or legal representative to handle the will and so on."
"Hmm, that is correct, but sadly I do not practice magical law, rather, my office deals with Muggle law. The reason I came by is because I heard on the grapevine from one of my family members – who is, in fact, handling your father's passing – that your mother is looking for a way to get you set up in London as a Muggle."
"That was fast," I muttered under my breath.
"Ever since it was known I was a Squib, I've made it something of a duty of mine to help people in similar situations as my own," Archibald informed me. "My family is old and well established in the magical side of things, and they pass along certain tidbits of information to me. In this case, they let me know whenever someone is looking to set up a young Squib in the Muggle world."
"Well, I guess that means you're going to help me do that," I hummed, to which Archibald nodded.
"Yes. It's not exactly an easy thing, though. If there is one thing our governments share, it's a love of paperwork. I can help there, but there are some things not even I can make happen. Birth certificates? ID's and passports? Simple enough. But you are a bit younger than most Squibs I've helped before, and while I could fake a degree or two, legally, as a Muggle, you'd have to go to school."
I grimaced at that thought. The idea of going out and having to learn in school all over again sounded like a pain in my rear, but if that was the price to pay, I'd do it.
"Fine," I groaned. "I can do that."
"Wonderful, I'll have some math and history booklets brought over so you can study them. In a week, I will give you a placement test. Muggle schools start around the same time as Hogwarts, thankfully, so that doesn't give us a lot of wiggle room," Archibald said, pleased. "There is another problem, though. Again, with your age."
"Is it my living arrangements?" I guessed, and the older Squib nodded.
"Yes, I'm afraid that is the case," he said, sounding apologetic. "Even for magical children, they need to live with a guardian of sorts, be it parents, god-parents, close relatives, or someone trusted and given legal rights over you."
"That doesn't sound fun," I grumbled. Privately, I thought, 'They'd stifle me, treat me condescendingly if I had to live with them until I came of age!'
"I suppose it wouldn't," he said, chuckling. "And to be honest, I fully understand where you are coming from. Most magical families wouldn't want to have a Squib around, and it can be tiresome living in a place where you feel unwanted. Trying to find a magical family in London who would treat you well while you rented a room from them would be difficult, and in all honestly not worth our time. However, there is a loophole for this matter. House Elves."
"House Elves?" I asked at the same time my mother said it.
"Yes, House Elves. Legally, a Squib cannot own a House Elf. This is because a Squib lacks the magic to maintain the bond. But, a House Elf can be appointed as a Keeper of sorts over a child. Many House Elves serve as nannies and raised children who'd been orphaned, so there is precedent, and as long as your mother gives your House Elf permission to watch over you, it would be possible for you to live on your own, Edward."
"Oh, wow, that's…" I stammered, surprised by this turn of events. This felt too good to be true! 'Where was this luck when I was growing up?'
"What would this entail, exactly?" my mother inquired, speaking for the first time.
"Nothing complex. You just buy or rent some property, then tell your House Elf to treat that space as an extension of this home. Additionally, tell them they are going to be Edward's custodian until he comes of age, and then sign a couple papers affirming this is what you want to happen. Oh, and a name change wouldn't hurt. I find that helps ease things through if the Squibs have a less magical sounding name."
"That seems quite easy-going, and not at all what I was expecting," my mother said, and I nodded alongside her, thinking over that last suggestion with interest.
"It is as easy as it seems, ma'am," Archibald assured her. "I think you are both forgetting one thing, which is making you overly suspicious."
"And what's that?" Wisteria Hunch demanded, raising an eyebrow at the attorney.
"Young Edward here is a Squib," Archibald said, his expression stern, but also empathetic. "The magical world doesn't care about him."
"Take that back!" my mother snapped, and he raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"I'm not wrong," he replied evenly. "Legally, he has few rights. He can't inherit anything from you or the family, he cannot be employed by the Ministry, he cannot own property without permission from his head of household, and there are a hundred different rules and petty laws that shut him out of the magical world. The fact he's still allowed to use the Hunch name is a courtesy extended to him by you alone right now, as you are technically head of the household. But when his brother grows up and becomes the head of the household, he can cast young Edward out, taking his name back, so to speak."
Archibald sighed, and leaned back, while my mother's face turned pale. "It's cruel to say it, ma'am, but it's the truth. The magical side of things has decided they do not want Squibs, and so they honestly do not care what happens to him. Most parents would have obliviated him and dumped him at the nearest orphanage by now. That you haven't shows you are a better person than most witches and wizards. The small amount of paperwork on your side of things is just a symptom of that reality."
"I-Is it really that bad out there for Squibs?" My mother asked, and both Archibald and I grimaced at her naivety.
'How has she not seen this before?' I wondered, feeling a hint of disgust and betrayal at her blindness well up within me. 'Did she think father's beatings were just because he was a drunk, and not to do with my lack of magic? She cannot be this oblivious, can she?'
But, then again, that summed up magical folk in a nutshell. Blind to what was right in front of them.
"Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid it is," Archibald said with a shake of his head. "It's getting late. I'll have the paperwork owled to you tomorrow morning Mrs. Hunch, along with some of the workbooks I want Edward to go over so I can see what his educational level is."
"Yes, of course, thank you for all your help," my mother said. She went over to the fireplace and tossed a handful of dark green powder into the crackling flames, which immediately turned a vivid, emerald green.
Archibald stood up, thanked her, and then whispered his destination into the flames before stepping in and vanishing in a whoosh of hot, displaced air.
'Floo travel is always such a weird thing to see,' I mused. It was like watching a person fall down into a trapdoor that was surrounded by a green blaze. Very odd.
Immediately after Archibald had departed, Wisteria Hunch staggered over to a rocking chair, her expression painfully blank as she sat down. I remained standing, shifting nervously from foot to foot, waiting for something – anything! – to happen.
Eventually, mother finally looked up at me, and bit her lip before calling out for Inky. With a pop, the elderly House Elf appeared, and she looked from me over to him.
"Inky, Edward here might be moving out soon," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "Would you be willing to keep looking after him, even after he leaves?"
"Inky would be happy to keep serving Young Master Eddy," Inky said with a firm nod.
"You would be willing to be his custodian until he turns seventeen years old?" mother pressed, and again, Inky nodded in acceptance.
"Then so be it. No matter where my son my be, you will always look after him, and answer his summons to the best of your ability," Wisteria instructed Inky, who bowed at the waist. She then gestured for the two of us to approach, and she made me hold Inky's hand.
She then took out her wand, and waved it over us, muttering something that sounded like 'Manumissus' or something along those lines.
"There, that should do it," she murmured under her breath, before giving me a strained smile. "Don't make too much trouble for Inky, okay? He's not as spry as he used to be."
Inky let out an overly exaggerated gasp at that, and I snorted in amusement.
"I promise, mother," I told her.
She nodded, her expression melancholic, before getting up from the rocking chair. "Inky, help me make dinner tonight, okay?"
The two of them left for the kitchen, leaving me alone. I was content to let them be, ideas already swirling through my mind about how to take advantage of this situation.
'This works out perfectly,' I thought to myself. 'I could have lived without Inky's assistance, but having a magical butler like him is beyond useful. Several of my plans can actually be moved up with his magic at my disposal.'
I grinned to myself. It'd taken eleven years, but things in this new life were finally looking up!
Chapter 4: Tests and New Names
Chapter Text
Chapter 4: Tests and new names
Over the next couple of days, nothing really changed. Oh, sure, there were some differences. For one, I went to bed each night with a lot fewer bruises without father around. And I was actually feeling excited for the future. Not to mention Rudy's antagonism towards me had decreased, at least on the surface.
Oh, he hated me, I could tell. Rudy blamed me for father's death, but without that wretched oaf to beat mother senseless when he wasn't busy abusing me, Wisteria Hunch had grown a bit of spine and had ruthlessly spanked my brother the first time she discovered him putting acidic mucus into my shampoo.
Rudy didn't try and do anything else to me after that, but he did glare and refuse to speak to me. Which suited me fine, honestly. I barely considered him a sibling at all in the first place. Maybe mom could stamp out the evil that father had incubated inside my brother. Maybe she could convince him Squibs and Muggles weren't sub-human garbage. I doubted it, but wished her all the luck in turning him from the path of the Death Eater. I wasn't going to stick around to watch, however.
Still, my week was going well. And, as the sun dawned on a fine Wednesday morning, I was up early and eager to meet Archibald Tarsworth at the Leaky Cauldron. We were meeting up there to go into Muggle London to have my knowledge tested so they knew where to put me for schooling purposes.
It was the first time I'd get to visit London, in this life or the last. I'd always wanted to travel back in my old life. Sure, I'd gone on plenty of road trip vacations across the USA, visiting the different states during the summer, but I'd only gone overseas once, and that had been to Malta for a distant relative's wedding. Not a lot of time to go sightseeing then, sadly.
'Well, I've got plenty of time now,' I thought to myself giddily as I stepped up to the fireplace.
"Leaky Cauldron!" I called out as I tossed the floo powder into the crackling flames, grin widening as the fire turns emerald green.
I step through, and feel my body get yanked downwards, then sideways, and it is only the prior experience of traveling like this that I knew to keep my left foot up and out, so when I was spat out of the pub's fireplace, I had a foot to put forward, so I didn't stumble or trip. It was still a wild ride, and I wobbled a bit on my feet as I regained my bearings.
"Hello, Edward. Right on time," Archibald said in greeting, smiling at me from a seat at the bar. The Leaky Cauldron was empty save for the older Squib, a couple other patrons grabbing a late lunch, and Tom himself, the elderly bar owner giving me a gap-toothed grin as I appeared.
"Good morning, Mr. Tarsworth. And good morning to you, Tom," I said, bobbing my head politely. Tom's grin widened and he gave me a nod as I went over to Archibald's side.
"Alright, let's get going," my guide to the Muggle world said, leading me out of the bar onto the streets of London. "I'll hail a cab."
"This is how Muggles get around for the most part," he said, explaining to me what the automobiles on the streets were for. "No brooms or floo or apparition. Just various makes and models of automobiles. Though be sure to call them 'cars' when they're the smaller models, and 'buses' for the larger, public transportation versions."
"Like the Knight Bus!" I said, excitedly, like a child would. I already knew about the Muggle world, probably better than Archibald did, but I had to play the role of starry-eyed Pureblood child who'd never seen so much as a TV, let alone an apartment building!
"Yes, exactly! Only the Knight Bus is an outlier. Most Muggle buses are slower and actually obey the rules of the road," Archibald chuckled. "Don't worry, though, you're a bit too young to have to worry about that. Only adults can drive in Muggle society."
I nodded, and when a taxi finally stopped for us, I didn't have to fake being awed by the sights of London as we drove towards our destination. Big Ben! The Eye! I saw so many amazing tourist sites. I had a feeling Archibald had paid the driver extra to take on a bit of a tour so I could see all the most notable sights in the city, since the Tower of London wasn't too close too Buckminster Palace.
After an hour and a half driving around and seeing all sorts of fun things (and reexperiencing the terrors of traffic) we finally arrived at a building that was plain and grey and not all that impressive. I assumed it was a government building, and was quickly taken inside, and then led into a room on the second floor that had a table, a chair, and not much else. It was rather barren. Archibald left me alone to speak with someone else, and I went over to see what I had to do.
There were workbooks on the table, similar to the ones I'd done at home, and looked them over. I was annoyed, as they were incredibly simple. But what did I expect from stuff kids were supposed to know? There was 3rd grade material at the minimum, up to 6th grade as far as I could guess. Which made sense. They wanted to know where I placed.
'History and Geography will be tricky… I don't as much about English stuff as I do about the US, but some of this international and world stuff isn't so bad,' I thought to myself as I filled out the workbooks. 'Hmm, this math and science stuff isn't too hard, though. Some multiplication and division problems? Easy-peasy. Describe the water cycle? Plain and simple!'
It was over in less than an hour, and I went over to the door and knocked on it. When Archibald answered, I handed over the completed workbooks, and he took them with a surprised look.
"I'll have these checked," he said. He gave me a look I couldn't identify, and went back to the table to wait and twiddle my thumbs. In the end, I just began scribbling some simple stuff on scrap paper, drawing dinosaurs and dragons and a bunch of knights.
Thirty minutes later, Archibald returned, a frown on his face.
"Edward, have you ever practiced Occlumency?" he asked out of the blue, and I blinked, surprised by the query.
"Err, yes," I admitted.
"Hmm, I thought so," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "That explains your high score."
I tilted my head to the side, confused, and then realization hit me.
'Oh, cripes, I did too well!' I realized! 'I'm a twenty-something in a kid's body! Those questions were a breeze for me, but what about normal children?'
I silently cursed myself, while also thanking my lucky stars I had indeed practiced some Occlumency in the past.
It was a mental discipline that, theoretically, anyone could learn. No magic required! It was, at its basic, a means of organizing a person's thoughts and emotions. It could be used to strengthen mental protections against foreign intrusion, such as Legilimency, but it was also a valuable aid for sorting and recalling memories.
I'd practiced it for a while when younger in the hopes of finding my magic within my mindscape. It didn't turn out like that in the end, but I did gain a stronger ability to remember things. It was the only reason I was able to remember so much about the Harry Potter world.
It wasn't quite a photographic memory that I now possessed, but it was close.
"Mmm, I should have guessed you'd have studied a little bit of Occlumency. Most Squibs have, at some point," Archibald said, continuing to speak as I remained silent. "It's a common story, actually. There are a lot of tales of magical folks finding and even communing with their magic via meditation, and Occlumency is basically meditation."
He shook his head. "This is my mistake, should have seen this coming. Occlumency makes it easier to recall things, and that's all a test is, in the end. Recalling information and applying it."
"So, what now?" I asked.
"Well, according to the scores, you're simply too gifted to put in Year 7, as a normal eleven-year-old would be," Archibald explained. "Thankfully, the woman in charge of testing is also a Squib, and she noticed this before I could make any more errors. We can put you into a higher grade, up to Year 9, because anything less would be too suspicious based on what you've managed to do here."
"Year 7? 9?" I uttered. 'Was 'years' what the UK called their student levels instead of 'grade?''
"Yes, that is how the Muggles refer to their levels of education," Archibald explained. "To put it into perspective, an eleven-year-old First Year Hogwarts student would be considered a Year 7 in the Muggle system."
"Ah, thank you, I understand, now," I replied, nodding slowly.
Archibald nodded and continued his spiel. "I know it can be daunting to be an eleven-year-old surrounded by thirteen-year-olds, but it's the best we can do. We could also have you take the tests again and have you try to score lower, but it's up to you, Edward."
"Is it possible to alter my records, so I'm registered as a thirteen-year-old in the Muggle world?" I inquired after thinking things over. Archibald's face screwed up in confusion at that.
"Um, yes, I suppose. Why?"
"I don't want to be recognized as a 'genius' or 'prodigy,'" I replied, making air quotes with my fingers. "If I get put into a class of older students, I don't want to be looked at differently. So, the best way to do that would be to claim to be older myself."
'Plus, being older, even by two measly years, speeds up my plans,' I thought to myself gleefully. Instead of waiting to be of legal age in seven years, by Muggle accounts I'd be an adult in five! And the sooner I could become an adult and use certain resources, the better. A lot of doors were closed to me until I reached legal age, both in the magical side and the mundane one. Becoming thirteen years old by Muggle reckoning would kill two birds with one stone!
"If it's just two years," Archibald mused. "I suppose that's not insurmountable."
He then looked me over. "And you could pass for a scrawny thirteen-year-old." He nodded to himself. "Alright then, fine. I'll make it so your papers say you are thirteen instead of eleven. Are you sure you won't regret this?"
"Like you said, it's just two years. A tiny gap," I replied.
"Alright then," Archibald said, nodding his head. "Oh, one more thing, what did you want your Muggle identity to be called?"
"Call me Edward Rose," I declared. "While in the Muggle World, that will be my name."
"Your middle name as your first name I understand, but where does the last name of 'Rose' come from, if I may ask?" Archibald inquired.
"Nana Kettlepoke's first name is Rose," I said. "And she's the only grandparent I actually like."
Partly because she, like her daughter, my mother, didn't mind too much I was a Squib. Disappointed, yes, but also not surprised. She'd been forced to marry her own husband, a close cousin of hers, and then later forced to watch her daughter married off to even more close cousins in order to 'keep the blood pure.' She'd never seen the point of the Pureblood movement, and had been one of the few to realize the dangers inbreeding could – and would – cause. Like, saying, an inordinately higher number of Squibs. I'm pretty sure I have an uncle and aunt on both my father and my mother's sides of the family, but they were squibs and obliviated and ditched as children.
'Too bad Nana Kettlepoke is as timid as my mom,' I thought bitterly. 'At least she's nothing like dad's mother, Granny Hunch! That saggy old bat is just as bad as Sirius Black's mother was portrayed in the books. Damn racist old crone! She must have some Hag in her, I swear!'
I smoothed my facial features over before I let any of my distaste for my messed-up family show itself. Archibald hadn't noticed, or if he had, chose to politely ignore it. Which made sense. Family was important, even more so for a Squib like us. Any member who didn't treat us like crap was probably both rare and highly beloved.
"Edward Rose, it is, then," Archibald said with a nod. "I'll get that squared away, and grab some info on schools for your mother to look over, as well as properties for sale and rent nearby. Just wait here for a bit while I get that all ready for you. And when we're done, we can do some more looking around at London. How about a stop at Harrods?"
"Awesome!" I said, thanking him with an excited nod.
'Hey, this all just might work out!'
Chapter 5: New Beginnings
Chapter Text
Chapter 5: New Beginnings
"Well, it's a bit small, but I suppose I could put a few expansion charms here and there, make some of the storage spaces bigger," Wisteria Hunch mused as she looked at the place we had chosen for my new living spot.
It wasn't a fancy place. In fact, there were stains in the corner, a smidge of mold on the ceiling, and the old, threadbare carpet had been poorly laid so it bunched up in odd places. But it was a cheap apartment unit close enough to a decent school, and that was what mattered the most to our family right now. Well, it mattered to mother. I didn't particularly care, and Rudy was still avoiding me like the plague.
Anyways, the apartment building had one and a half bedrooms (one master, one room that could hold another bed or be something), one bathroom, a very small kitchenette, a few closets, and no living room. It was on the first floor, and had bars over the windows, which was a bit concerning. The apartment complex itself was squished right in between London's cityscape and its outskirts, where Urban sprawl spilled out into the suburbs.
The town's name was Bendcroft. It also happened to be in Berkshire County, west of London. Which was next door to Surrey County. And you know what else was nearby, a mere mile or so away from the apartment complex? Little Whinging, the town where Harry Potter lived!
That was apparently one of the other reasons Wisteria had wanted to purchase the apartment out here. Arabella Figg, a fellow Squib, lived nearby, and it seemed like Archibald knew of the old cat-loving lady as well and considered her a decent enough woman. I'd not met her, but Archibald assured me Mrs. Figg would look out for me if I was in the area.
'Squibs gotta Squib together, I suppose,' I thought to myself, trying to keep the jitters down as I looked around the apartment some more. Knowing I was so close to the Boy Who Lived was nerve-wracking, but it also seemed like no one else was aware, which fit with what I knew. Old Lady Figg only knew because Dumbledore asked her to spy on him.
'And that raises some questions of my own. Did she move in nearby to do the spying, or was it luck that a Squib had already been living at Privet Drive when it was time for Harry to go there?' I mused to myself, tuning out mother talking to herself about sprucing the place up. If she wanted to liven up the place, she was free to do so. I had no skill in home décor. All I'd needed in my last life was a bed, a desk, a comfy swivel chair, and a laptop to survive on my own. Everything else had been optional.
"What do you think, Edward?"
"Huh? Oh, sure, go ahead, whatever you think is fine," I mumbled, waving a hand nonchalantly.
'Ooo! This area could make a good lab for when I start my experiments!' I thought eagerly as I peered into a wide, walk-in closet in the master bedroom.
"Hmm, alright then," mother hummed, and I had suspicions she knew I hadn't been listening. Still, she clapped her hands and called out for Inky, and the House Elf appeared with a crackle-pop.
"Inky, be a dear and give this place a quick cleaning before you start moving all of Edward's things in here," she instructed.
"Yes, mistress," the elderly House Elf said, bowing and vanishing with another pop.
"Come, Edward, let's leave Inky to his work," Wisteria said. "We are going to visit Mrs. Arabella Figg at a restaurant near here."
"Sure, mom," I agreed, and we left the apartment in Inky's capable – if creepy – little hands.
We left the building and headed to the meet up with Mrs. Figg. We got to the restaurant ten minutes later, and went inside.
Upon seeing her, I had to hide a frown. She resembled the actress that had played her in the movies back on my world, at least superficially. Her hair was greyer (though still wrapped up under that odd, transparent bonnet) and she wore a leopard print shawl over her greyish-white blouse and skirt.
'I guess it isn't just magicals that have a terrible sense of fashion,' I thought, hiding a grimace at the sight of what she was wearing.
A faint odor of cat and cabbage linger on her, which, given she had at least four half-kneazles in her home, along with who knows how many house cats, made sense. Except the cabbage part. I vaguely recalled that being a thing from the books as well.
"Mrs. Hunch?" Mrs. Figg inquired when we approached the table she was sitting at.
"Yes, hello, Mrs. Figg," Wisteria Hunch replied. She then nudged me with her elbow. "Say hello, Edward."
"Hello, Mrs. Figg," I greeted politely. "I'm Edward Rose."
"Rose? Oh, yes, that's right, Archie said you'd changed your last name," Mrs. Figg hummed. "Please, sit, I've order tea. Earl Grey alright with you?"
"Yes, that's wonderful, thank you," my mother said with a grateful nod. We both sat down, and Mrs. Figg looked us over, eyeing our clothing.
"You're dressed better than I expected," she said after a moment. "Most witches and wizards don't realize how important it is to stay under the radar when out and about, and wearing robes and outlandish garb doesn't do that."
"It was mostly thanks to Mr. Tarsworth and Edward here. My boy saw how Muggles dressed when visiting London and helped me out," mother admitted. "I've had a couple days to get used to this new style, due to having to sign paperwork for the apartment and school."
"Hmm. You're attending Woolingsby, correct?" Mrs. Figg inquired of me, and I nodded.
"Yes, Mrs. It's close to the apartment, and is supposed to be decent," I replied.
"Good. If you ever have any problems, or need help, you can contact me," she said. She took out a pen from a purse, and wrote down a phone number.
Mother took it, a bit perplexed by what it was, and Mrs. Figg seemed to notice if the amusement in her eyes was a clue.
"Just give that to Archie. He'll know what to do with it," she assured my mother, who nodded slowly and tucked the note away.
The next hour was little more than a bunch of chatting and boring conversation. It was mostly between my mother and Mrs. Figg, though I had to chime in a few times when the old cat lady probed me with seemingly innocent questions, but once I looked back at them, realized they were a lot more pointed than I'd first expected.
'Asking about how I felt about Pureblood nonsense and the Boy-Who-Lived? She was trying to figure out if I'm a plant or spy for the Death Eaters,' I thought as Wisteria Hunch and I walked back to the apartment. 'I wonder if Dumbledore told her what to ask, or if he even knows I exist? Hope it's the latter, I could do without that senile meddler.'
Say what you want about Dumbledore, but I disliked him. It wasn't because he was evil – in fact, without meeting the man, I couldn't know for sure one way or another, but I didn't want to imagine him being a pseudo-Dark Lord like some fanfics portrayed him, but even if he wasn't intentionally cruel to Harry Potter, he was, at best, blind and misguided due to years of being in the know.
He left Harry Potter with his aunt and uncle, folks who were known to hate magic and their own relatives. He never bothered to check in on him at any point to make sure the wards worked, or that the Dursley family was taking care of him.
And either Mrs. Figg, his spy, sucked at her job of reporting what was going on, or just as likely, Dumbledore just ignored her whenever she informed her boss that the Dursleys were terrible people. After all, she was just a Squib. He obviously knew better!
No, Dumbledore was at best an obstacle, a threat at worst.
A twinge of pity for the currently six-year-old boy flickered through my chest, but I stamped it down. I didn't need more problems on my plate!
"Oh, Inky, you've done a wonderful job!" mother exclaimed as we went into the apartment, and I blinked in surprise as I saw that, indeed, everything had gotten better compared to when we last saw it.
The walls had been repainted (a nice, plain eggshell white), the rug properly laid out and cleaned. There was a lot of different items of furniture that hadn't been there before, such as a table and chair set for the dining-cum-living room, a green sofa that looked ancient but comfy, and a cabinet full of plates and cooking utensils next to the kitchenette.
A peek into the master bedroom revealed a lovely queen-sized bed with a mahogany frame, the headboard carved with dragons and unicorns. A nightstand with a Muggle (that is to say, powered by electricity) lamp was set up beside the bed, while at the foot of the bed, a big, wooden chest sat.
"Wow, this place looks amazing!" I gushed. Then, I frowned, as a question occurred to me. "Inky, where did you get all this furniture?"
"This was all stuff we had in the attic or basement or one of the other unused rooms from the house," Wisteria explained as the House Elf appeared next to her, grinning at our praise.
"Yes! Mistress Hunch said I could, so I did," Inky said proudly.
"Huh. I guess that makes sense," I mused. Now that they mentioned it, I did recognize some of the items as having come from a few rooms I'd explored while younger.
'I forgot how much stuff old magical families end up hording,' I thought to myself. Clutter accumulated quickly, even in relatively small and poor family like mine and the Weasleys. Especially when storing stuff that wasn't money in Gringotts was too expensive for anyone not obscenely rich.
"So, do you want to stay the night here?" mother asked, and I glanced at her. I bit my lip, thinking it over.
"Yes, I do," I said after a moment. "That doesn't mean I don't want to have dinner with you, though."
"Of course," she said with a watery smile. "Just call for Inky when you're ready to pop in for dinner tonight, okay? And don't forget, I'll be dropping you off at school on your first day."
"Okay, mom. I'll see you then," I promised with a smile.
She nodded, and grabbed Inky's gnarled old hand. The two vanished in a pop, leaving me alone.
For a couple seconds, I enjoyed the silence. Then, I went back into the master bedroom, and went to the bed. I checked under the pillows, and smirked as I saw what lay beneath it. A familiar old sack I'd last seen in the bushes underneath my window back at Lumpkins' Patch.
"Oh, Inky, you know just how to make a boy smile," I said under my breathe.
I couldn't help but grin happily as I opened up my emergency escape sack and took out a few items. Money, both Muggle and Magical. Clothing, in both styles. And last but not least a tiny vial half full of something that was the source of my newfound freedom.
The liquid wasn't clear, but it was sufficiently opaque that it'd go unnoticed in most liquids. It had a slightly strong smell, but alcohol neatly covered it up.
It was, simply, a heart attack in a bottle. Just add to a drink and boom! Dead almost instantly. It helped if the person already had a strong inclination towards strokes and heart attacks already. Wizards rarely got 'em, thanks to magic being a useful buffer against mundane ailments and afflictions, but it was entirely possible to have a stroke if you drank too much alcohol and didn't live a calm, stress-free life.
Aurors and medi-witches wouldn't be able to locate this with a simple wave of the wand, either, because spells designed to check for poisons or drugs only checked for magical ones. And diagnostic spells always searched for what the spells knew to be toxins. Since this was a Muggle concoction made from mundane chemicals, their precious magic couldn't recognize the substance, and thus, ignored it. This was how Inky and I got away Scott free with poisoning the man I was ashamed to be related to.
Of course, acquiring the stuff hadn't been easy. I'd had to rely on quite a few chemistry lessons and textbooks I'd dug up from the depths of my memory courtesy of my Occlumency training, and making it out of household materials and other things I'd discreetly bought from the local Muggle pharmacy in Ottery St. Catchpole had been tiresome. Still, I'd learned a lot about making potions during my experiments, and a smidge about the more complex subject of alchemy.
'I don't need it anymore,' I thought, holding up the mostly empty vial. I went into the bathroom and dumped the last of the drug down the sink, and washed the container out thoroughly. It had served its use, and watching it gurgle down the drain filled me with a sense of relief, like a weight was lifting off my shoulders.
'Next trial comes up September 1st!' I thought to myself. 'Back to school in a whole new world.'
I shuddered at that thought. Just thinking about it was making me all depressed. Instead, I decided to focus on something else, so I got onto the bed and began to practice my somewhat rusty Occlumency skills. I had a couple hours to burn before dinner, and I wanted to make sure I could remember several things with complete clarity for the coming months. School would not defeat me!
Chapter 6: Getting Schooled
Chapter Text
Chapter 6: Getting Schooled
September 1st crept up on me like a tiger. I knew it was coming, but it still surprised the heck out of me when it did finally arrive.
I'd gotten used to living in the new apartment, although it was hard to be alone for most of the day. I was surprised at myself when I felt lonely, and found myself missing the Weasleys' cheerfulness or my mother's affection. Heck, I even missed Rudy's scowls and snubs, though that was probably a symptom of depression or self-loathing I didn't want to touch without a lot of preparation (and maybe a shrink or two).
Still, walking to school with my mom on the first day of school made me realize I was more of a kid than I'd realized. I craved her love and attention, and I held her hand tighter than I'd thought I would. As we approached the gates, a tingle of childish, immature fear at the thought of not seeing her for the whole day surged through my body.
Being reborn had reset my body, but I'd always assumed it wouldn't affect my mind. I was wrong. And that worried me.
'Puberty is going to suck,' I groaned to myself as I thought about going through that hell a second time.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Wisteria Hunch asked me, speaking for the first time since we'd left the apartment. "You know that I can still ask my parents to take you in as an apprentice…"
"We both know that the job would be a pity position, mom," I said quietly. "I'd be allowed to brew nothing but first and second year level potions, and more likely be left in charge of tending to the ingredients and cleaning up after the 'real' potion brewers than having a chance to do much else."
I shook my head as the gates to the Woolingsby Academy loomed on the horizon. "No, mom. This way is the only way I can find my own path."
"The Muggle way," she murmured.
"The Muggle way," I confirmed.
We stopped outside the gates to the school, which were already packed with other students being dropped off by family members. Mother and I hugged, a sense of desperation lingering between us as we broke apart and went our separate ways.
As she walked away – probably to find a spot to apparate back to Lumpkin's Patch – I doubled checked my backpack for my school stuff.
'Lunch? Check. Notebook? Check. Pencils and pens? Also check. Anxiety about having to spend time in school again? Check-a-roo!' I thought to myself with a bitter hint of amusement.
Everything was prepped, and I forced myself to stop trying to idle around and instead get inside the place I'd be spending the next five years of my new life.
As I entered, I noted that the halls of Woolingsby were pretty much like any other school I'd seen in my past life. Clean-ish linoleum floors, plasterboard walls, with sterile white lights overhead. Lockers and cubbyholes lined the halls and classrooms, and uncomfortable desks made of plastic and metal were lined up in rows facing white and blackboards and the teacher's desk (which tended to be cluttered with stuff, even at the beginning of the school year). None had projectors on the ceiling, yet. It was still too early for that technology to be spreading widely.
Overall, it wasn't a bad setup. Woolingsby was what would be known as a Secondary School to some. Basically. a place that combined Middle and High School together into one or more buildings. Woolingsby went a little further, and included the British equivalent of Elementary School as well. This meant there were a lot of students packed into the place, and thus chaos on the first day of school.
But, I made it through the seething mass of dribbling, snotty children (dutifully doing my best to ignore the fact that I was, in fact, one of said children again) and into the classroom that was, according to the schedule they'd mailed to me a couple days ago, my homeroom for the rest of the year.
'Welp, here I am, an 8th grader once more, or Year 9 as they call it around these parts,' I mused to myself as I sat down in a painfully uncomfortable chair. 'Okay, first things first; find out how to make a chair comfier using runes, because if this is the quality I have to work with for the next five years, my butt will be permanently disfigured by Christmas.'
Other students filed in as time went by, and eventually the clock chimed 8 in the morning, and the teacher, who had already been waiting for us in the classroom behind his desk, stood up with a well-practiced smile.
"Welcome, everyone, to another school year here at Woolingsby. I'm Mr. Macintyre, and I'll be your homeroom teacher. I also teach math, so I'll be seeing you all again after lunch. Now, I see a couple new faces here and there, but that's good! Why don't we start off by writing our names onto these cards so other people can see them?"
He passed out some big, thick, construction paper notecards to everyone, and offered pens to those who didn't have any. We all began to write our names down and then prop the cards up to let the rest of the class see.
Pretty basic stuff. But just as I was getting complacent, I felt someone tug on my shirt from behind.
Curious in spite of myself, I turned around to find a grinning face aimed my way.
"Hi! I'm Sam!" the smiling face said, and I blinked and leaned back, taking in the person who was staring at and grinning at me. They turned out to be a young boy with very short blond hair and a pair of glasses. "Who are you?"
"Err, Edward," I replied shortly. "Hi."
"You look bored," he commented. "Me, too."
"Cool," I said, unsure of what else I was supposed to say to that.
"Wanna be friends?" Sam asked, and I just stared at him, not sure I'd heard right.
'Wow, were all kids this outgoing when I was this age the first time around?' I wondered. I then realized I was still staring, and Sam was looking at me eagerly, waiting for an answer.
However, I could also tell that he looked… worried. Nervous, certainly. It was evident in his eyes and the way he was tensed up the longer I remained quiet. Was he afraid of rejection? Why?
'Do I even want to make a friend?' I asked myself. It wasn't something I'd planned on, but at the same time… the memory of the loneliness I'd felt while sitting in my apartment, alone and without anyone to talk to, stirred in me, and I decided to do something I'd not planned on doing at all.
"Okay, sure," I said at last, offering Sam my hand to shake. "Let's be friends."
Becoming a friend with this guy might cut back on some of the time I'd set aside for preparing for my future, but I didn't want to be lonely anymore.
Plus, I had the feeling this guy was like me. An outcast. The way he beamed ecstatically at me when I agreed to befriend him told me that he was used to disappointment, and that he savored every moment of joy he could get.
Classes were pretty tame for the first day, and they passed by quickly, being most introductions and overviews of what the teachers expected from us. When lunch rolled around, Sam and I (who also had History and Math class with me) found a spot in the cafeteria and chatted a bit over our lunches.
"…and that's why I'm no longer allowed to eat bologna," Sam said, ending a tale of chaos and childhood antics.
"How did you manage to get it into the electrical socket in the first place?" I asked, bewildered.
"With great difficulty," Sam replied with a chuckle. That caused me to laugh.
"So, where do you live?" I asked.
"Dawshire Grove in Surrey, up north from here by about ten minutes," Sam replied.
"Hmm, neat. Is there anything you can tell me about Woolingsby?" I inquired. "Who the best teachers are, and which cliques I should stay away from?"
"Cliques?" Sam asked, confused by the word.
"Err, social groups. Any kids that are notable bullies or anything like that?" I asked, rephrasing my earlier question.
"Well, there's a bunch of jerks a year above us, but since they're in Year 10 now, they won't be around much," Sam said, and there was a note of relief in his voice. "They have lunch schedules different from the rest of us lower years."
"That's good to know," I said, guessing that these jerks Sam mentioned were the reason he'd been isolated.
"So, what do you think to do in your spare time? I play football at my sports club, but I also like reading," Sam told me.
"I like reading too, mostly sci-fi and fantasy," I admitted. "Not much of a sporty person, though I do like baseball."
The true All-American sport was something of a soft spot for me. I'd played it throughout elementary and middle school in my past life, and enjoyed watching it.
"What about classes?" I asked. "I like history and science class the most."
"History's pretty fun, I guess," Sam shrugged. "Ever since Mrs. Delany retired two years ago, science class hasn't been that fun. Though I hear her replacement is nice. Though I can't wait to get to Year 11! That's when they let us dissect frogs!"
"Huh, neat," I hummed.
"Yeah!" Sam cheered. We then quickly went back to eating. We only got twenty minutes to cram our food down our gullets, unfortunately.
"Ever heard of something called Dungeons and Dragons?" I asked, an idea popping into my head as we continued to eat.
I couldn't help but grin as Sam shook his head and said 'no,' and I prepared to introduce my new friend to the best game ever invented.
Chapter 7: The Master Plan
Chapter Text
Chapter 7: The Master Plan
"Oof, back at last!" I groaned in relief as I all but kicked the door to my apartment open.
A month had gone by since school started, and all the minor annoyances, like homework, waking up early, and having stupid tests, had quickly reared their ugly heads, like a foul hydra. I was able to keep up with the school work easily thanks to my previous education experience and Occlumency training, and neither tests nor homework were truly all that bad thanks to my unfair advantages, merely irritations at most, but I could have done without the early mornings!
One of the few things that made Woolingsby tolerable was my new friend, Sam Parson. He was a sharp kid, and clearly recognized I wasn't the typical thirteen-year-old. But he assumed that was just because I was smarter than most of our classmates.
And, honestly, it was refreshing being friends with Sam. He was a bit hyper, but he wasn't unpleasantly so. He was definitely an extrovert, and liked dragging me around to do different things. But Sam knew when not to push to hard, and we were able to reach a comfortable middle ground between us regarding our hobbies and playtime.
Also, he was a big fan of Dungeons and Dragons. We hadn't even had a single session yet, but I had bought the rulebooks and then loaned them to him, and he was instantly hooked on the idea of an adventure game where he got to decide what the heroes did.
Second Edition was still two years away, however, and First Edition was somewhat complicated, so I'd be dumbing down some of the rules. It'd basically be Third Edition but with tweaks.
Still, I was tired after a long day at school, and it was only the sight of a package on the floor that perked me up.
"Is it…? It is! Finally!" I cheered as I tore off the cheap brown wrapping paper off the box, and grinned gleefully at what was in front of me.
You know how there were Easy-Bake Ovens and such? Well, the magical world had something similar for potions.
It was a product called 'Lil Witch's First Cauldron.' The whole set cost only a galleon, and was a steal for what it provided. The contents consisted of a basic copper cauldron large enough to hold a gallon's worth of liquid, a pewter mortar and pestle, miniature weighing scales, a blunted knife, three empty glass phials with cork stoppers to put your finished concoctions into, and enough ingredients to make at least one dose of three different potions that were taught to all Hogwarts First Years, plus recipes and brewing instructions. The potions in question were the Boil-Cure Potion, the Numbing Potion, and perhaps most importantly to me, the Wiggenweld Potion.
All three were useful, as the Boil-Cure could be altered to deal with pimples (a must have once puberty started), the Numbing Potion was basically a topical anesthetic to remove aches and pains, and the Wiggenweld Potion could heal, restore stamina, and act as a cure to minor poisons and curses.
Best of all, for the Wiggenweld Potion at least, there were multiple ways to brew the potion, with ingredients ranging from cheap, like salamander's blood and mountain ash tree bark, to expensive like unicorn hair. It all depended on what you wanted the potion to do. Blood and bark would give a superior healing effect, while unicorn hair boosted the potency of its curse-breaking effect.
The kit didn't come with something that precious, just a couple drops of salamander's blood and a pinch of ash tree bark, but the fact this potion had so many customization options even for beginner brewers was the important part.
See, what I planned on doing in the long term was turning potions from the wizarding world into something I could make and sell in the mundane world!
And while it would be tricky, it was entirely doable!
There were a lot of misconceptions about Squibs, I'd come to realize. Yes, we couldn't cast magic directly. We were unable to use wands, staves, rings, talismans or any other manner of foci to direct the energy within us and manifest it as spells.
However, that didn't mean Squibs lacked magic. Indeed, we had a little bit of it inside of us. How else could we use magical items and benefit from potions, unlike Muggles? And if we were truly magicless, then Muggle repelling wards would keep us out of magical society all together. But they didn't, as evidenced from Hogwarts' token Squib caretaker, Mr. Filch. We could also see magical phenomena and creatures, like Dementors, which to a Muggle was invisible, and only its icy presence was noticeable.
With that knowledge, I knew that I wasn't completely helpless in my new world. I could still benefit from the advantages magic provided, and I would do so in three ways; Arithmancy, Runes, and Potions.
None of the three disciplines required the ability to cast magic. Arithmancy was just fancy, complicated math. It was used to decipher certain types of magic, and was vital in all kinds of advanced disciplines, including runes.
Speaking of runes, they didn't need magic to be carved or set. Just a bit of magic was needed to activate the function of a runic sequence, and after that they'd passively absorb magical energy to sustain themselves. As such, runes were a key component in many enchanted magical items, alongside the branch of magic known as Charms.
Now, one might wonder how a Squib could use runes if we didn't have the ability to outwardly manifest our internal magic. The answer to that was the third discipline: Potions!
Most potions do not take their magical effects or properties from the mage who brewed them, but instead from the magic within the ingredients. As such, Squibs could brew potions if they wished. It was how Tom Riddle Jr.'s mother had managed to catch the eye of Tom Riddle Sr., after all. A love potion was why the greatest monster since Grindelwald ended up being born.
The potions might not be of the best quality, and some of the more complex creations were out of a Squib's reach because they needed an injection of magic from the brewer to work properly, but for the most part, the really basic potions that were taught from 1st to 4th year at Hogwarts needed just the right ingredients and the proper way to prepare and cook them. Even a couple O.W.L and N.E.W.T level ones could be done without a wand or even a magical foci to inject magic, relying entirely on the magical energy within the ingredients!
And then, circling back to runes for a second, it was possible for someone to activate the runic sequences that had been carved by splashing a potion onto them, using the magic inside the liquid as a catalyst.
Not just any potion would do, though. You couldn't expect a runic sequence for heat or fire to be activated by a Cooling Draught, but you could use said potion to activate runes based on ice or the cold.
Potions were simply bottled spells when it came down to it, and anything done with a wand-based spell could be replicated in some fashion with a potion, same with runes, though with varying degrees of success and effectiveness. The Memory Erasing potion was inferior to the Obliviate spell, for instance, but it had its uses. For example, most animals – magical or mundane – were immune to the Obliviate spell. In which case, the Memory Erasing potion was great for turning animals into a blank slate so they could be trained more easily.
In the end, Squibs were far from lacking magic. They just didn't get any respect or chances to prove themselves because of how magical society valued wands and spells.
'But I'll show them,' I vowed to myself as I began to set up the miniature potion kit. 'I'll show them all!'
First, though, before I could conquer the pharmaceutical market with my potions, I had to make sure I could actually do what I wanted with potions. Specifically, brewing them. That was Step One. I had to be sure that the potions I wanted to make and sell I could actually create.
The next step was testing said potions on Muggles. There were some problems with that, besides the obvious 'no letting people realize this is actually magic' issue.
Not all potions could affect Muggles. However, there were plenty that did, such as the infamous love potions. If Tom Riddle Sr. could be affected by one, other potions surely could be consumed by Muggles for their intended effects.
'I even suspect that Muggles could brew potions too,' I thought to myself. 'Heck, even machines could do it! Program them to stir at the right speed and direction, keep the heat just right, and with a proper set up I could churn out potions on an industrial level! Potions are a form of ritual magic, after all. As long as they are prepared in the proper manner, most potions rely on the magic of the ingredients themselves, nothing more.'
Such a thing would require a lot testing, however. At the very least, I already had one product in mind to experiment with; the Hair Growth potion.
How much money was spent every year by people with baldness or receding hairlines? Millions of dollars (or pounds, since I was English now), is the answer. And most of it was sham products. Scams at the very worst. If I could brew a hair growth potion that could do so slowly, and not all at once like most variants of the vanity potion did, then I could sell it to Muggles and make a killing! And, if the ingredients were cheap enough, experiments with mass producing it could be possible!
And just my luck, the Hunch Family Grimoires I had 'borrowed' from the manor had a homemade recipe for the Hair Growth potion!
Interestingly, it didn't have any hair as part of the ingredients. It called for rat's teeth, a lizard's tail (finely diced), a dollop of bees wax, and a pinch of salt.
There were issues with this recipe, of course. What constituted a 'dollop' or 'pinch?' Could it be any tail from any animal classified as a lizard, or did it have to be specifically from one that could regrow its tail? Was it rock salt or sea salt the potion called for? Could I replace one with the other without causing the potion to explode? I hadn't a clue, but that was what experimentation was for. I'd had Inky gather up as many diverse ingredients as possible.
Some might wonder, 'why use the beginner's potion kit for this?' Well, the answer was simple; I was too young to own a real cauldron or any potion equipment of my own. I had to source it all through toys because I was too young. And, if I'm brutally honest, the fact I was a Squib would also be reason enough for someone not to sell to me professional grade materials once I did grow up. So, for the moment, I would experiment with whatever 'toys' I could get my mitts on.
'Note to self, look into Muggle chemistry sets,' I thought as I turned on the heat of the stove and put the teapot sized mini-cauldron on top of the flames. 'Also, get safety goggles and other equipment. Wizards wouldn't know the meaning of the term 'lab safety' if it hit 'em on the head!'
I separated out my ingredients, and decided to make the Wiggenweld potion first. It was easy and wouldn't destroy the cauldron if done wrong – just cause gross smoke instead. If I did the Numbing Potion wrong, I could cause frostbite or other cold related damage to my skin, and the Boil-Cure Potion was known to explode and melt the cauldron as well as cause horrific blisters if improperly brewed.
So, I took the ingredients that came with the potion kit, and prepared them as the water boiled. A Hunch family recipe for the Wiggenweld Potion called for powdered Wiggentree bark, aka the bark of a mountain ash tree (or rowan in some circles), salamander's blood (from a normal salamander, not the magical kind that's on fire), mint leaves, dittany, and honey. Again, the recipe was vague on how much of anything I needed, but at least most of the work involved stirring. And, best of all, aside from the dittany, it was completely mundane.
Dittany was a magical plant, an herb, really, that grew in several regions worldwide and was vital for healing potions. The concentrated Essence of Dittany potion was so potent a tiny smear of the stuff could heal almost any superficial wounds and prevent scarification from larger ones.
And wouldn't you know it? Dittany actually grew in the Muggle world, and was well known for its healing properties! Well, known among herbalists and 'natural cure' folks, that is. But there was some truth to their claims.
Now, the magical world used a very specific breed of dittany plant known as Origanum Dictamnus, or more commonly Cretan Dittany. It only grows on the island of Crete, hence why in the magical world, Essence of Dittany was rare and expensive, and the plant itself was reserved for only talented potion brewers.
But, there is another breed of dittany, one that grows wild and abundant in the Muggle world. Dictamnus Albus, sometimes known as 'burning bush' due to the highly flammable oils it produces. It is not as magically potent as the Cretan variety, as much of the innate magic was bred out of it due to its spread across woodlands in Southern Europe, Northern Africa and most of Asia. Yet there still remained a spark of this healing essence that allowed this substance to work its magic, literally. So long as it was brewed properly, even this debased off-shoot could provide a potent healing effect. And if mixed with other ingredients, it allowed for even a magicless Squib like myself to provide the necessary 'spark' of magic many mid to high tier potions demanded, and would usually require a wand-user to provide.
And so, into the water went some shredded dittany leaves. Then, the salamander's blood. As I stirred using a stirring stick made from a unicorn's horn (another relic of the Hunch family) the liquid started to change colors. Red, orange, pink, yellow, even turquoise at one point! Then, I increased the heat, and added the powdered bark as it bubbled. The potion turned yellow, and in went the mint! This made it turn purple, until I stirred it, at which point it became a reddish hue.
A couple more shredded leaves of mint went in, and it turned orange again, then yellow. And then finally went the honey, and it went back to a pretty shade of turquoise as it simmered. After thirty minutes of doing so, I turned off the heat and removed the potion to let it cool.
I went and did my homework afterwards as I waited, and found that the potion was finally done an hour later. It had darkened from its turquoise hue to a cyan in that time, and I cautiously tested it by smearing some of the potion over a papercut I'd gotten in school earlier.
A faint tingle ran through the appendage, and I watched wide-eyed as the blue liquid seeped into the wound and the cut healed completely!
"It worked!" I cheered, overjoyed that my first potion had actually done its job properly. Sure, I'd brewed potions before, but that had always been with my mom nearby, and I'd always wondered and worried if perhaps the potions I'd brewed had only come out fine due to the presence of my witch of a mother (in a good way!).
But now, here was proof I could make my own potions!
"I'll have to test this again," I told myself. "See if I can brew it without using the unicorn horn stirrer. And see how much I actually need of each ingredient. And is there a way to make it thicker, so it's more like a cream? Creams sell better than liquid medicines, after all."
All these thoughts swirled through my mind, and it took considerable effort to stop them and calm down.
'Yes, I succeeded, but that was just a test. No need to go overboard with the excitement. I have many years to go to perfect everything. For now, celebrate with some Thai takeout,' I thought to myself.
Still, I couldn't help but smile. My future – and my Master Plan – looked promising.
Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Finding out a secret
Chapter Text
Chapter 8: Finding out a secret
“Does Mr. Mason get some sort of sick, twisted pleasure out of giving us all these quizzes?” I wondered to Sam as we both slumped in our seats at our usual lunch table, another session of English class (or Literature as it was known here) gone by. Two months in, and we’d already had six different quizzes!
It was enough to make a grown man weep. Which I had been, before reincarnation. As such, as a middle schooler, I felt the work the teacher was heaping onto us was ridiculous, and Sam agreed, his head bobbing up and down as he ate his tuna fish sandwich.
“It’s pretty bad,” he muttered, mouth full of fish and bread. “Mr. Mason’s got a bit of a nightmare rep around Woolingsby. At least we don’t have him again next year.”
“That’s a relief,” I declared with a sigh. I then sat up, eager to change the subject. “So, have you read the latest Dragons of Pern book?”
Before Sam could respond, an aluminum can bounced off the back of his head, and he flinched. I turned my gaze to the side, and glared at the offender. Unperturbed, a student a year older than me stared back with a smirk, daring me to do something about it.
“You sure you don’t want me to do anything?” I asked Sam, and he nodded meekly.
“He only shares Tuesday and Thursday lunches with us, I can deal with it if it’s just twice a week,” Sam replied.
“Having to put up with it even once a week is too much, in my opinion,” I griped.
“Look, don’t make a big deal out of it,” Sam pleaded, and I grunted but gave him a nod.
“Fine. I don’t get why Miller is such a butthead to you,” I said, carefully keeping my language squeaky clean. Couldn’t go firing off F-bombs around brits, after all. Or swear words in general.
Though my confusion about why the 9th year student Donny Miller kept bothering Sam continued to bug me. One day he’d tell me what the backstory to this was. One day.
But, for now, I’d stick with Sam and keep being his friend. Not like the childish bullying antics Miller liked to use could convince me to stop.
“Oh, by the way, did you still want to come over to my house this weekend to watch the game?” Sam asked, voice becoming eager. By ‘game,’ he meant the football game being televised on Sunday. And by football, he meant the proper version, not the American one.
“Of course I’m coming over!” I assured him. I might not enjoy the sport as much as Sam did, but that was okay. I liked hanging out with him, even if it was just in the background of something else.
Plus, Sam had a pretty big TV, at least for this era, so when I’d gone over before, we got to watch cartoons and other stuff on it, which was neat. As for his family, the Parsons, they were big football fans. They also always invited me over for dinner whenever I was over, and I wouldn’t say no to a free meal. As far as families went, Sam’s was great. His parents were neat, and his sister was nice, if shy. They were always nice to me whenever I came over, apparently really happy I’d befriended Sam.
Not to mention I didn’t have any plans for potion making over the weekend. My experimentation with brewing potions was going smoothly, but slowly. I could only do so much with the ingredients and equipment I could afford, and experiments could be costly.
I’d also hit something of a wall. I’d proven to myself that I could brew potions as a Squib, at least by following a recipe and using magical catalysts. If I wanted to mass produce potions, however, I’d need to make tests using cheaper ingredients. Or at least, ones I could procure from the Muggle side of the world in bulk. As such, until I could figure out a way to do my experiments with cheap, non-magical stuff, I’d decided to take a step back and focus instead on something else; runes.
‘I understand why it was only available to 3rd Years at Hogwarts,’ I thought to myself as I went to my next class. I went over some of my notes on the topic (hidden in my math book) to refresh myself.
Runes were, at their basis, symbols that had a certain meaning assigned to them, like pictographs. Hieroglyphs are one such example, although the Norse runic system known as Elder Furthank are just as well-known. Anyways, regardless of the culture, words and symbols have always had power, and this carried over into the runes themselves. I didn’t know if runes had innate magical properties naturally, or if it was due to some kind of ‘faith’ system where runes worked simply because people believed they worked, but for the moment that query was purely academic.
‘I’m going about this all wrong,’ I thought to myself as I read over some older notes in English class. ‘Runecraft will probably be the easiest form of magic I’ll be able to use, since I can use modern tools to carve them with a precision other Runecrafters cannot obtain by hand, but before I can do any of that, I need to figure out how to set up the proper runic sequences.’
Intent seemed to matter when carving them, but not by much since I’d already confirmed I could have someone else make the runes for me and still have them activate properly when magic was applied.
No, the real problem with learning runes was the same problem with learning a new language: grammar. Combining runes into something I could use was tricky because of this. One fire rune plus another fire rune could make either a bigger flame, or a hotter one of a small size. It all depended on how you set up the sequence, which was basically like writing a sentence. There were rules about what rune had to go where, which rune could go first in a sequence, what runes could be used with other runes (you couldn’t mix Elder Furthank with Japanese Kanji or Egyptian Hieroglyphs, for instance, but you could mix Sumerian Cuneiform with Elder Furthank, curiously enough), and so much more. It made my head spin!
Eventually, the bell rang, signaling the end of lessons for the day, and I put my stuff away – magical and mundane alike. I met Sam outside of the classroom, and we walked out of the building and down the street together.
We lived fairly close to each other, with Sam’s house being in Dawshire Grove, a nice little suburban neighborhood. In fact, it was actually closer to Privet Drive than I was, which was an interesting thing to discover.
Unfortunately, we didn’t manage to get as far from the school as we’d wanted, because Donny Miller and his goons caught up to his less than a block from the building. The fact he lived in Dawshire Grove as well as Sam meant we had to be discreet and quick on our feet to avoid running into him when school let out.
“Hey, lookie! It’s Sammy!” the bully sneered. “Where you going with your boyfriend? Off to do girly things?”
“We’re off to plow your mother,” I shot back, irritation at my Rune studies bleeding over into my attitude towards the jackass.
Sam turned to gawk at me, his jaw on the ground, same as Donny and his squad, though Don’s face was turning bright red as he processed the insult.
“Whu-what did you just say?!” Donny snarled, stepping forward with clenched fists.
“You heard me,” I replied, rolling my eyes at the childish antics of the wannabe thug. “Now why don’t you just run along, meat-for-brains.”
“Oh, yeah? And what if I don’t?” he demanded. “What if I decide to beat the shit out of you and your girlfriend?”
“Well, then, I’ll just have to enjoy you getting yanked aside by one of the teachers, or perhaps a parent or some other adult,” I said, gesturing towards the school parking lot which was still full of students being picked up. “You make one move towards me, and I start screaming. And what do you think people will say or do when they see you, an older, bigger, and dumber boy beating up someone smaller and younger than you?”
Donny froze, and turned his head to look over his shoulder. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to try and do something to me with that threat looming, and he decided to leave it be for now.
“This isn’t over,” he growled at me, and I rolled my eyes as he stalked off.
“How cliché,” I sighed, grateful my gamble had paid off. I then turned to Sam, curious about something he’d said.
“Sam, why’d did he call you my girlfriend?” I inquired. A strange thought popped into my head, and I stared at him.
“Wait a second… are… you… are you a girl?” I asked, confused. Sam blushed and looked at the ground, unwilling to make eye contact with me.
“That’s… how did I not notice?” I wondered, more to myself than anything else. I looked back, even using Occlumency to help sort my memories, but nothing really popped up or stood out. I did eventually find a couple memories of Sam using the bathroom at school, and he (or was it she?) had used the men’s bathroom at the time.
“I am a guy!” Sam finally sputtered out. “It’s just… sometimes, I feel like, well…”
“Oh? Oh. OH!” I realized with a start. “Oh, so… huh, I guess that makes sense,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Then, that incident Donny mentioned…”
I trailed off, waiting for him to finish my sentence and explain what had happened. He noticed, and after a minute, told me the story.
“I tried on one of my mom’s dresses one time. As a goof. A dare!” Sam admitted. “But it was… nice, I guess? I liked it.”
“And so you took a liking to dresses and ‘girly things?’” I said, mimicking Donny Miller’s nasally voice. Sam chuckled at the impression, but nodded.
“He caught me doing it one time. I’d been wearing my hair longer at the time, so I’d tried doing something with it, but all I did was put on some hair ties and scrunchies.” Sam sighed morosely at that. “Donny made fun of me, and never stopped.”
“What an asshole,” I muttered, and Sam gasped at the language I’d used.
“So, that’s the story. Are we… are we still friends?” Sam asked, and I looked at him like he was being stupid.
“Obviously,” I said. “As if I’d ditched you for something like that. So, you like pretty things and girl stuff? So what? There are worse things to be into, like being a fan of that ‘American Football’ garbage.”
At that, Sam laughed some more, although I could tell there were some tears in his eyes. They were tears of happiness, however, and he gave me a hug. I returned it.
Maybe, if I’d been a regular kid, I’d have been weirded out. But I was from a more enlightened time, and also, I just didn’t care. Sam was Sam, regardless of how he liked to dress.
As we separated, I gave him a grin dripping with sneakiness. “Wanna prank Donny?” I asked. “Maybe give him a wedgie or something later?”
“Maybe,” Sam said with a snicker.
“Okay. Just let me know when you want me to do something to him as payback. Nobody messes with my best friend and gets away with it,” I vowed, and Sam beamed.
“Cool!” he said happily, before frowning.
“Just, uh, just don’t swear around my parents or sister, okay?”
“Can do,” I said with a lazy salute. “So, what do you want to do today?”
&&&&&
Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Have an early chapter to enjoy!
Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Birthday Celebrations
Chapter Text
Chapter 9: Birthday Celebrations
"Happy Birthday, Edward!" Sam's mother said cheerfully.
"Blow out the candles! Hurry, hurry, hurry!" Sam chanted excitedly, pushing an oversized cupcake with a candle in it over to me.
Today was April 1st, 1990, and I was now 14 years old. Though, 'officially,' I was 16, thanks to my altered transcripts and paperwork. Still, regardless of my actual age, I smiled widely in genuine happiness as I blew out the single candle Sam had jabbed into the large Red Velvet cupcake with vanilla icing he and his mom had baked for me.
It was a Sunday today, and I was spending lunch at Sam's place. Later in the evening, I'd celebrate with my mother with a nice dinner, and then with the Weasleys for dessert, but until then, I was at my second home.
In the three years since I'd entered the Muggle world and met Sam Parson at Woolingsby, we'd become inseparable friends. The revelation Sam liked dressed in drag had surprised me, but I didn't care, and I'd helped him get back at Donny for being a jerk about Sam's preferences. Of course, this was still the eighties, and being 'different' just wasn't done, so I helped Sam figure out ways to cope with his feelings. Baking had been one of them. It was the sort of thing anybody could do, regardless of gender stereotypes in this day and age, and he was getting good at it after nearly two years of practice.
His parents adored me as well. I'm pretty sure they thought I was an orphan, and that my mother was actually some sort of foster care or social worker or something along those lines. They invited me over a lot as a result.
Then there was Kate Parson, Sam's sister. She grinned at me from the opposite side of the table with her mom and brother. She was also my real age, 14, and I was pretty sure she had a crush on me. The way she blushed whenever I glanced in her direction made me assume that was the case.
I pushed the thoughts out of my head and instead focused on blowing out the candle. I huffed and puffed, and the tiny flame was extinguished.
Sam and his family clapped politely, and I gave a stage bow which earned some chuckles.
"I don't think I can eat the whole thing on my own," I said, still somewhat full from the delicious BBQ Sam's father had cooked up for lunch.
"Let's split it, then," Sam's mother offered, and I grinned at that. We divided the giant cupcake into five slices, and we all enjoyed it.
"Here you go, Edward," Sam said cheerfully when we were done, passing over a rectangular gift wrapped in brown paper.
"Hmm? I wonder what it could be," I mused aloud, picking it up and tapping it. "Looks like a book… sounds like a book… so obviously it must be… a sweater!"
"Nope, guess again," Sam said with a grin.
I removed the wrapping paper, and my own smile matched Sam's.
"Awesome!" I exclaimed as I saw it was a limited edition copy of the Dungeons and Dragons 2nd edition rule book. The system had come out last year in 1989, and was basically unplayable by any standard, but it was still a great addition to my collection.
As for the rest of the family, Kate got me bunch of neon colored dice, his mom gave me a hug, and his dad slipped me fifty quid, covering it up as a stern handshake.
After spending some more time chatting and hanging out with Sam and his family I had to leave, sadly. As fun as it was, I needed to prepare for the second part of the day with my mother.
Back in the apartment, I got dressed in a nice wizarding outfit. I didn't have to dress up, as we were only going to be having dinner together at home, but it wasn't often I got to look spic and span in wizarding garb (which was just fancy robes) so I took the chance.
Eventually, six o'clock rolled around, and the doorbell rang.
"Hi, mom," I said in greeting as I opened the door, smiling at her fondly. Wisteria Hunch smiled back, and she reached down and rustled my hair.
"You're growing up so fast!" she chuckled while I spluttered.
"Agh! Not the hair, mom!" I protested. "It took forever to comb it and get it ready for tonight!"
"Yes, your father had similar problems with unruly hair," Wisteria said with a nostalgic sigh. "He used to use so much Sleek Easy!"
"Is that so?" I hummed, not liking the comparison to my rat of a father. Mother seemed to noticed this, and she immediately got depressed, which made me upset.
"Come on, mom," I said, holding out my arm for her to take. "Don't want the food getting cold, right?"
"Right, right," Wisteria Hunch said, nodding rapidly, and she took my arm. A second later there was a squeezing sensation around my waist and every limb, and the surroundings blurred. Then, we arrived in the living room of Lumpkin's Patch. I wobbled woozily from the side-along apparation, and mother giggled at the sight of me acting like I was drunk.
"Oh dear," Wisteria laughed. "When will you get the hang of traveling by apparation?"
"Oof," I grunted. "At least I don't feel queasy every time. Only took me nine trips before that happened, but I'm so glad I no longer feel the need to toss my cookies!"
"Well, I'm happy to see you're improving," Wisteria said.
"Where's Rudy?" I asked as I glanced around the room, trying to sound polite, but a note of bitterness still entered my voice.
"He's at school," she replied, failing to hide the hurt look that flashed through her eyes when I sighed in relief at not having to deal with him.
"He's currently a Second Year at Hogwarts, right?" I asked, trying to be conversational as we entered the dining room.
"Yes. He will be a Third-Year next year. He plans on taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures," his mother revealed.
"Oh? Good for him," I said insincerely.
Although I'd done my best to avoid speaking with my younger brother, I'd unfortunately been forced to run into him a couple times. He wasn't much fun, and his distaste for me hadn't faded in the years since father's death.
I did my best to pretend I missed the brat, though, and sat down to a nice, home cooked meal.
"Pork chops and garlic mashed potatoes," I said happily as I saw what Wisteria Hunch had made for me.
"Your favorites," she said softly with a small smile.
Conversation was limited to small talk during dinner, and we mostly just chatted about minor things, such as changes in price in potion ingredients, what sort of blunders the Ministry had done recently, and other issues, letting me stay up to date with the Wizarding World.
"Here," she said, passing me a book when dinner was done and Inky teleported the dirty dishes away. "I know you've been doing self-study with Runes, Arithmancy and Potions, so I thought you might like this."
"'A Beginner's Guide to Alchemy?'" I said, reading aloud the title of the book. "By… Nicholas Flamel?!"
"Yes, it used to belong to the Kettlepokes. Consider it a gift from Nana and myself," she said with a grin, seeing my stunned expression.
I looked at it in awe. It was over a hundred years old, and the knowledge within was priceless. Alchemy was something that was like a more advanced form of Potions, like how Transmutation was an advanced version of Transfiguration, and Enchanting was the superior branch of Charms.
Alchemy was incredible, as it didn't just create liquid substances. Solids and gases were also possible to be synthesized. Like the legendary Philosopher's Stone, although that was an extreme example. Unique metal alloys, magically charged crystals, as well as a method to turn potions into pills were all included in what was known to magical folk as Alchemy.
"It's incredible, thank you, mom," I said with genuine cheer in my voice.
After a bit more time hanging around my old home, I gave my mother a hug, and tucked her gift under my arm. Then, instead of being apparated out, I left Lumpkin's Patch and went out into Ottery St. Catchpole. A couple minutes later, and I was at the Burrow's front door.
I'd only knocked on it once before it was flung open and two pairs of hands reached out and yanked me inside.
"Woah, there! Watch where you're grabbing, Fred, George!" I scolded as the twins dragged me through the house and into the kitchen.
"Heh, sorry for messing up your fancy suit and tie," Fred said in a sing-song manner.
"But that's what you get for not visiting for nearly a whole year!" George replied, and I flinched, feeling a bit guilty.
I'd done my best to keep up with the Weasley's over the years, but it was hard. We lived too far away, now, and owls were not exactly inconspicuous. Nor cheap. And, as a Squib, I couldn't own one anyways. Another incredibly stupid rule from the wizarding world. The owl the Weasley's owned was a wizened old thing, and the Muggle mailmen didn't deliver to houses that they couldn't see. That meant letters were infrequent, and I only really got to see the red-headed family during holidays and birthdays.
'The last time I saw them was at New Years,' I thought to myself, feeling a bit morose at that fact.
As I was brought into the dining room by the twins, I hid my thoughts behind a smile upon seeing the rest of the Weasleys. They all greeted me with a barrage of smiles, and Ron and Ginny both shouted "Happy Birthday!" as loud as they could.
I looked around at all of them, smiling widely as I did so. All of the red-heads looked hale and healthy, which was a load off my mind. There were a few missing from the house at the moment, though. Percy and Charlie were at Hogwarts, while Bill had graduated last year and was busy working with Gringotts already.
Ron and Ginny looked excited, though I had to wonder how much was because of me and how much was due to the giant cake on the table. The twins had mischievous grins like always, though this time their smirks were likely due to the fact they'd snuck out of school using the floo to attend the party, and a moment after entering Mrs. Weasley crushed me in a hug. And last but not least was Arthur Weasley who was wearing a pastel green Hawaiian shirt that had yellow and orange ducks on it.
The reason for that was simple. I'd given Arthur Weasley a wind-up duck as a gift a couple Christmas' ago, and he adored the little toy. He played with it in his shed a lot according to his children. Ever since, I'd gotten him duck-themed muggle things like ties, socks, and shirts with duck shapes and patterns on them for Christmas. He seemed to like them, which was nice.
"Fred, George, I didn't expect to see either of you," I said, giving the twins grins.
"We decided-"
"That a party was a better use of our time-"
"Then sitting around in a stuffy castle doing homework," the twins replied, speaking in sync.
"You're doing better with that speaking in tandem thing," I said, giving the duo a thumbs up in approval.
"Don't encourage them!" Mrs. Weasley harrumphed good naturedly. "I have no idea how they snuck out of the castle and into Hogsmeade like that to use the floo in the Three Broomsticks!"
'They must have already found the Marauder's Map, then,' I mused with interest. 'I knew it happened in their first year, but they've done it quite fast already. How many times have they gotten detention in just a couple months?'
Dinner was amazing, as usual. No matter my opinion on Mrs. Weasley's personality, there was no denying she was an excellent cook. Of course, I ended up eating too much and getting stuffed. I would regret it, I knew I would, because this always happened, but I couldn't help it! The food was just too tasty and there were always mountains of leftovers.
As I sat and chatted with the Weasleys after dessert, I couldn't help but think about the ridiculous blood purity stuff that'd been brought up earlier by Hurricane Molly.
Up until about a century ago, you were considered a 'Pureblood' if both your parents were magical. Half-Bloods were those who had one magical and one muggle parent, and Muggleborn were, obviously, witches or wizards who had no magical parents and came from the magical world.
Then Grindalwald came, and that damned wretch who started World War 2 from the shadows made up the whole 'Blood Purity' movement. Mostly by accident. See, old Grindy believed that magicals should rule Muggles. Simple as that.
But some of his followers in the Knights of Walpurgis, those of older lineages, went further, and drew up entire charts and diagrams on 'how pure' a person had to be in order to call themselves magical. Muggleborns were better than Muggles, obviously, but they were below Halfbloods. And Purebloods with long lineages would, naturally, dominate the new society Grindelwald envisoned.
The Knights of Walpurgis wanted to create a magical caste system based on how 'pure' their magical lineage was. And from there it spiraled out of control into the hideous ideology Voldemort had used to bring the wealthy elite of Wizarding Britain under his banner less than half a century later.
Joke was on them, though. Most so-called Pureblood families had a lot of Halfbloods and Muggleborn who'd married into them in the past. If they didn't, they'd cause the lines to Squib out due to inbreeding. And yes, being a Squib was due to witches and wizards intermarrying too often and too closely.
My parents were first cousins. Just as both of their parents had been, thanks to my great-grandparents being idiots and buying into Grindelwald's Blood Purity nonsense.
So, yeah, all my problems could be laid at the feet of my ancestors. I'd made a vow to desecrate their graves when I discovered that fact, and even considered hunting down Gaunt's Ring just to summon their spirits using the Deathly Hallow attached to it and torture them, since being summoned to the living world apparently caused the souls of the dead great distress. According to the tales, at least.
But no, I wasn't going to touch that hot mess with a ten-foot pole. No way in heck was I getting involved with the chaos that was Harry Potter's life. Well, maybe a little. Just a smidge. Enough to get what I wanted.
I'd be staying away from the Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows, though, unless I felt it was absolutely necessary to intervene. Which I hoped wouldn't come to be.
"You alright there?"
I was shaken out of my thoughts of murder, revenge, and inbreeding by Mr. Weasley, who was looking at me in concern.
"Mmm, just a bit tired," I said. It wasn't even a lie! I was feeling tired and a bit bloated from the rich dinner and dessert I'd stuffed myself with. Mr. Weasley noticed and gave me a small, knowing smile and wink.
"Too much excitement, eh?" he chuckled.
"Sounds about right," I replied, and then fought back a yawn.
"Perhaps we should start wrapping things up, then," Arthur said, raising his voice a little so he could be heard over the hubbub of his family.
That earned him a chorus of groans and protestations from the red-headed children, but the patriarch of the Weasley family held up his hands to silence them.
"Now, now, everyone, I know you don't like it, but that's just how it works," he said apologetically.
When I got back home (thanks to a certain helpful House Elf popping me back to the flat), I put my presents down and got ready for bed.
"That was fun," I murmured to myself, yawning all the while as I snuggled deep under the sheets.
I would have to repay the Weasleys somehow. That was something to think about for later, though. Right now I had to slip into a food coma.
Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Getting Hit with Canon
Chapter Text
Chapter 10: Getting hit with canon
It was almost time for school to start up again. Months had passed since my birthday. I’d successfully moved on to the next year of schooling, and with high marks in all of my classes. It was finally time to start Year 12! Or, as it was known back when I was an American, 11thgrade! Junior year!
‘Just a few more years,’ I told myself. ‘It won’t be long before I graduate High School and can move on to University!’
As I got ready for my first day back at school, I peered into a mirror, feeling torn about what I was seeing. I only had vague memories of what I’d used to look like (Occlumency to rescue again!), but I, as Edward Rose, was quite different compared to my old-world self. For one thing, I was in shape. I was hardly ripped with muscles, but I definitely had an athletic build. How much of my physique was due to magic, genetics, or the rigorous diet and exercise routine I kept up with I had no idea, but I was healthy, and it showed.
My hair was still brown, and my eyes were still blue, but the baby fat in my face had finally left me, and combined with my sharp jawline, gave me a chiseled, manly look. At least, according to my mom, Sam, and his mom and dad. And a couple other people. Plus, even as a Squib I was resistant to blemishes and acne, and it was really only my hair that needed taming when I had to groom myself.
All in all, I was fit and I was handsome (for a teenager), which made me conflicted.
‘One the one hand, I look nothing like I used to,’ I thought. ‘On the other, damn do I look good!’
Letting the small moment of narcissism leave me, I looked away from the mirror and stepped into my bedroom, leaving the towel on the rack behind me as I exited the bathroom.
I quickly dried myself and put my clothes on. They were nicer than what I usually wore, but there was an important reason for that: today was my first day of being an 11th grader, or Year 12 as they called it here in the UK, and I was excited. Not because of school, because screw tests and homework, but because I would be able to start Phase One of my marketing plans.
See, over the summer I had done more experiments with potions, and finally discovered a recipe for the Wiggenweld Potion that could be turned into a cream. It used the Hunch family recipe as a base, and then all I had to do was add aloe vera oil (a thankfully neutral substance that caused only slight changes in the potion, namely reducing the effectiveness of the healing by about a quarter), then once it was room temperature, put the potion in a blender until it thickened. Voila! I had a pretty blue ointment that, while weaker than the pure potion itself, and thus healed injuries slower, was perfect for sale in the Muggle world for exactly that reason.
‘Brand this sucker as a ‘herbal’ or natural healing remedy, and the money will flow,’ I thought giddily, picking up a ceramic pot of medical goo. One of many. In fact, turning it into a cream stretched out the potion. One regular vial of Wiggenweld Potion made three pots of Wiggenweld Cream, thanks to the addition of the aloe vera gel!
One vial of Wiggenweld Potion costs between three and ten galleons to buy premade from an apothecary in Diagon Alley, but it cost a single galleon to acquire enough ingredients to brew the potion using a standard size 2 cauldron. A standard size 2 cauldron, for reference, was what Hogwarts students were supposed to use for their potion classes, and could make around ten to twenty vials worth of potion per batch.
To put it simply, one vial of Wiggenweld Potion cost about fifteen to fifty pounds sterling to buy, and a mere five pounds if made from scratch using the cheapest ingredients. I could brew one batch of the stuff for about five to ten pounds, and that was ten to thirty doses of potion-cream!
If I then sold ten units of my Wiggenweld Creams for ten pounds a pop, I was looking at a sale of a hundred pounds! I also had to take into account other costs, namely the ceramic containers I used to put my cream into which cost three pounds each, so the total cost of making a single pot of healing cream was three and a half pounds sterling.
‘Ten pounds sterling for the ingredients, then another thirty pounds sterling for the ten ceramic jars… that leaves me with sixty quid worth of profit!’ I thought giddily to myself. ‘And that’s just a lowball estimate! If I use plastic instead of ceramic, and buy only the cheapest materials available, that could go up to eighty quid!’
I would have to rely on the Wizarding World for a while to source my ingredients. A galleon was the equivalent of five pounds, but a galleon had greater purchasing power in the magical world than five pounds did in the muggle side. A galleon was probably closer to twenty or so quid in actually value.
‘At least some of the potion materials will be cheap. Plenty of magical folk don’t bother with using the Wiggenweld Potion, as most adult witches and wizards can cast Episkey, the Healing Charm, which mends cuts and bruises as easily as the potion can. It’s really only used in magical households for fixing burns, soothing headaches, or calming queasy, upset stomachs. And I’ve heard some use it for acne,’ I mused to myself as I scooped the ten pots I’d made to give to my friends as free samples into my backpack. ‘I should be able to get plenty of ingredients for cheap because of the low demand.’
The three biggest contributors to the magical world’s economy were potions and their ingredients, enchanted objects, and government work. And easily a third to a half of all witches and wizards in Magical Britain worked in the former and latter. It was easy to see why. No need to pay for transportation costs when you can apparate or use Port Keys. Hundreds of pounds of weight worth of cargo could fit into expanded spaces and carried with you in the form of handbags and suitcases. You could sell a single enchanted object for dozens of galleons with relatively few overhead costs, and there was a lot of profits to rake in for the really quality stuff. The magical world was rife with opportunities, but the witches and wizards were blind to them. But not me. If I couldn’t wield magic then I’d just become rich.
‘First, though, I have to finish school,’ I thought with a grimace. I was not looking forward to that at all.
*(&&&&&)*
A month later, and things had been going well. The initial sales of my ‘home remedy’ medicinal cream had gone well. I’d sold over twenty-five pots of the Wiggenweld potion-infused cream so far, and earned over five hundred quid in the process! Initially, people had been hesitant to trust a teenager’s product, not to mention it was slightly expensive at ten pounds, but I used Sam’s family to help spread the word, and soon a couple of Sam’s mom’s friends had taken me up on the offer. They certainly seemed to like it, as they’d raved about its effectiveness to their friends. Things were looking up either way!
That was why I was somewhat blindsided when Fate came up and slapped me silly. It was the first of October, and I’d been called in to speak with the guidance counselor about my choice of community service project.
Students at Woolingsby were expected to ‘contribute to the community’ as part of their graduation requirements. Several dozen hours’ worth of community service were demanded of the A Level students, aka Years 12 and 13. The good news was that there was no rush. It could be done in a single semester if you crammed hard enough. And there were plenty of options, some even provided by the school itself. The easiest for me had been to sign up as a student mentor, or basically an unpaid tutor to one or more children from the lower years who were struggling academically.
So, I had been surprised when I was told they’d already found a student they needed me to tutor.
“Who is he?” I asked, curious. “And why does he need help so early in the school year? Did he fail to do his summer homework?”
“He did fail to turn in satisfactory work for his summer assignments, but in truth the student in question has been a bit of a problem for a while, academically as well as socially,” the counselor, Mr. Garden, said, sighing a bit. “He was in danger of being expelled last year, and we want to head off any problems in the coming year.”
“Eesh, sounds rough,” I grumbled. “I guess I can try and help, though.”
“Wonderful! I’m sure Mr. Potter will be grateful for your assistance.”
“I-I’m sorry?” I uttered while blinking slowly, wondering if I had correctly heard what the guidance counselor had just said. “Who?”
“Mr. Harry Potter,” the counselor said, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Uh, is he a black-haired ten-year-old with glasses?” I asked hesitantly, and the teacher nodded.
“Yes, that’s him! Currently in Year 6. Do you already know him?”
“I know his cousin is an asshole who tries to beat him up during recess,” I blurted out unthinkingly, which got me a confused look.
“Beg pardon?” Mr. Garden inquired.
“Err, uh, I’ve heard some rumors that he gets bullied a lot,” I said hastily. “Also, wasn’t Harry Potter the one who climbed up onto the roof and had to be gotten down by the fire department that one time?”
“Ah, right, that unfortunate incident last year,” the counselor sighed. “That’s one of the reasons he’s on thin ice.”
“…Can I say ‘no’ to tutoring him?” I asked carefully, with a smidge of hope in my voice.
“You could,” Mr. Garden said, expression twisting as if he’d eaten something sour. “But we think you and he could go well together.”
“By ‘we,’ I assume it’s the other faculty. And I’m going to guess you think I can help him because I know how to stand up for myself against bullies as well as being one of the top students here?” I asked dryly. I got an awkward cough as a response, and I bit back the urge to groan and lambast the man for foisting his own problems onto me.
I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I… alright, I’ll do this,” I agreed, even though a large part of me was screaming that this was a bad idea.
“Excellent!” Mr. Garden said with a grin. “You two can sort out your own schedules, I hope?”
“Of course,” I replied, hiding a note of bitterness. “May I be excused?”
I was waved off, and I quickly left the small office. I darted into the nearest bathroom and immediately began having a panic attack, chest heaving violently as I tried to reconcile the fact I had just taken a huge step into canon.
“Shit, shit, SHIT!” I snarled, before a semblance of control was exerted over my emotions. I wrestled my mind back into order with my Occlumency training.
‘I’m going to have to resume my training,’ I thought to myself, annoyed. I’d fallen out of practice with it, only really using it to organize my memories these days so I could ace quizzes and tests and keep my potion recipes as well as rune and arithmancy studies in line.
Now, though, I was going to double down and focus more on the mind shielding aspect of the mental discipline. I had no idea if Dumbledore would find out about me being near Harry, and while I doubted it, I was not going to take any risks at all. No old man or greasy snake were going to probe my mind, damn it!
Once I was calm enough to return to class, I pretty much ignored everything else that day. My mind was whirling with thoughts and ideas, the largest of which was ‘How much should I interfere with Harry Potter’s life?’
‘I could try and get him away from those assholes he calls relatives,’ I mused. ‘One call to social services, and bam! I get those child abusers thrown in jail!’
But I instantly discounted it. ‘No, won’t work. If Figg doesn’t tattle, then I bet Dumbles will figure it out regardless. Plus, can I risk Harry’s safety? His relatives are shit, but those damned blood wards keep him safe. They sustain the love barrier around him, which is the only reason he’ll be safe from Quirrell and Tommy boy in first year. And while I am highly skeptical about the exact functions of the wards, I don’t know enough about the subject to check, or do anything else.’
‘Perhaps I can at least be a shield for him?’ I wondered. ‘Couldn’t hurt to protect Harry from Dudley if nothing else.’
Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. My mind was too full of Harry stuff to concentrate of school, and so when the last class of the day rolled around, I went up to the teacher instead of sitting down.
“Mrs. Dott?” I began. “I have a meeting with Mr. Garden about the student I’m supposed to tutor.”
“Do you have a note?” she asked, and I shook my head.
“I, uh, kinda forgot it back at his office,” I replied sheepishly.
“Who are you tutoring?”
“Harry Potter, Mrs. Dott.”
She blinked at me, then grimaced. Apparently, Harry was known to the rest of the teachers, even those in the higher years.
“Alright, then, go along,” she sighed. “Homework is pages twenty-one to twenty-three in the booklet.”
“Got it, thanks Mrs. Dott!” I said, turning around and leaving the classroom.
I walked down the empty hallway towards the lower year classrooms. As I did, a thought crossed my mind.
I’d heard some fan theories back on my old world about Harry Potter being a Horcrux of sorts. That the reason his relatives were so horrible to him was because of Voldemort’s soul. I personally didn’t believe that myself. It assumed that the love shield which kept him safe was selectively permeable. Why would something designed to repel and restrain Voldemort’s very being allow part of said man’s soul to leak outwards and poison its surroundings? It made no sense.
Plus, Harry spent over the half the year away from them starting in his First Year at Hogwarts. Surely if he had been a Horcrux the other students would have been driven mad by his mere presence? And it wasn’t like magical folk were more or less resistant than Muggles to the baleful influence of the soul anchors, so that argument couldn’t be made.
There were a lot of leaps in logic for the fan theory overall, since almost all the other Horcrux were fairly quick to begin influencing people. Surely Harry’s cursed scar would have afflicted his dormmates at Hogwarts if nothing else?
‘Although, it’s possible that they can lie dormant and ‘awaken’ as needed,’ I thought to myself as I walked through the halls towards where Harry’s classroom was. ‘After all, Lucius Malfoy was able to carry Riddle’s diary around in public at the start of Second Year and nobody rioted in Diagon Alley or noticed any dark magic going on. Are there perhaps conditions for each Horcrux to trigger the possession process?’
Whatever the answer was, I decided to keep my mental barriers up just in case Harry really did radiate pure evil which caused the people around him to act like idiots and assholes.
I knocked on the door to the Harry’s classroom, and went inside. My gaze swept the room, and I easily spotted the titular hero of the world-famous book series.
He was definitely small and scrawny, and his black hair really was as messy as the books claimed. His glasses – broken and repaired several times with tape – sat awkwardly on his face. It was his eyes that were the most telling, however.
When he caught me looking at him, he flinched back. Literally, honest to God, flinched! His eyes showed fear. Actual fear! He was afraid of me, and he’d never even seen me before today! And I knew why instantly. It was because I was a stranger. And ever since he’d been left on his aunt’s doorstep, he’d never once been shown love or affection by anyone. The only time people paid attention to him was to yell, scream, berate and physically hurt him, and I felt a swell of anger rise in my chest.
‘I guess his aunt and uncle are just complete and utter tossers,’ I thought to myself as I stared back at Harry and struggled to keep a lid on my emotions. ‘Some people don’t need a Horcrux to be evil, after all.’
“Can I help you?” Harry’s teacher, a pinch-faced woman, asked, and I cleared my throat as I tore my gaze away from the boy.
“Hi, I’m here to pick up Harry Potter? I’m his student tutor,” I explained.
“It’s the middle of class,” the teacher protested.
“And Harry here needs all the help he can get,” I said, annoyance flickering through me. “I can always go and get Mr. Garden if it helps, though?”
The teacher’s already scrunched up nose got even scrunchier, but eventually she relented, and shot Harry a look that told him to scram.
He jumped out of his seat as if it were on fire, and I raised a hand to stall him.
“Bring your school stuff,” I instructed, and he did so, stuffing his ratty backpack – more of a sack with straps in all honesty – with the few school supplies he had before scurrying over to me. We then left, and I led Harry towards the library.
We sat down at a table in the back, nicely hidden from view by the shelves, and stared at each other in silence for about a minute.
‘Well, shit, I have no idea how to teach anybody,’ I realized.
In the end, I decided to take the plunge. “So! Nice weather we’re having?”
&&&&&
Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Study Buddies
Chapter Text
Chapter 11: Study Buddies
"So! Nice weather we're having?"
I cringed as soon as I uttered the awkward greeting.
At least Harry was just as nervous and uncomfortable as I was, as he shifted about in his seat and avoided making eye contact with me.
"Um, yeah. I guess. Kinda nippy, though," he eventually murmured when he realized I was waiting for him to respond.
"Mm-hmm. It's the fall, after all," I hummed, before shooting him a look, taking in his hand-me-down clothes. "Do you have a coat? Or perhaps a sweater for when the weather turns?"
"I do," Harry nodded, before giving me a concerned look of his own. "Err, why am I here?"
"I've been assigned as your student mentor, sort of like a tutor," I admitted. "I wanted to get to know you before we get down to studying."
"Is it because of my grades?" he asked nervously.
"From what they've told me, it's one of the reasons," I replied. "Like the time you climbed onto the roof and the fire department had to come and get you back down."
"I was trying to hide from Dudley," Harry said, shrinking in on himself at the reminder of what he'd done last year.
"Look, it's fine, I thought it was hilarious, and we got to leave school early," I claimed. "But I do have a question for you."
"Yeah?"
"Are you deliberately tanking your own grades?" I asked, causing Harry to blink at me in shock.
"N-no," he stammered, but his eyes betrayed him.
"Hmm. Let me guess, your cousin also wrecks your homework and assignments," I mused, and that caused him to shiver.
"You're a bad liar, kid, I can tell," I said, holding up a hand to forestall his denials.
"I, I don't…" Harry stammered.
"You don't have to tell me a thing," I replied, before offering a suggestion. "Tell you what! We can work on your homework together after school. Then, I will hang onto it for you until you have to turn it in. We meet up before school starts, probably here in the library, and that way your cousin won't be able to wreck your stuff."
Harry just stared at me, as if he couldn't believe I was being so helpful.
"Why?" he asked after a moment.
"Because I don't like bullies," I replied simply.
Harry looked down at the table, and said nothing. For a minute, nothing happened, and I took the chance to take out a few items from my backpack.
"Let's go over setting up a schedule," I suggested. "I'm pretty much free after school for, like, at least an hour every day. Same for weekends if that's easier. I don't like getting up too early, but if you want to meet up before school, that's fine with me. Do you live nearby?"
"I live in Privet Drive," he replied, still sounding dazed as if he wasn't sure this was all a dream. "In Surrey."
"Hmm. Pretty close, then. That's, what, a twenty-five-minute walk to the school?"
"Fifteen if you cut through the old playground off Mulberry Street," he revealed.
"Nice. I walk to school, too," I said. "So, what do you want to do?"
"You're asking me?" Harry uttered, and he sounded completely taken aback that anyone would ask his opinion of anything.
"Of course," I replied, and he look at the books I'd put on the table, before nodding.
"Um, before school works best for me," he admitted. "I have chores in the afternoon."
"I see," I muttered, making a note of it in my day planner. "Alright, then. If that's what you want, we can meet up before school starts in the morning."
I pretended not to notice the surprised and happy look Harry sported at that.
{&&&&&}
"I'm back, Inky," I said, greeting the House Elf as I walked into my apartment. "Ooof, what a day!"
"Welcome back, Young Master Eddie!" Inky said cheerfully from the kitchenette. He was standing on a stool, stirring a batch of Wiggenweld Potion in a copper cauldron. This was how I managed to get so much of the stuff; my loyal friend and caretaker helped me brew the potion.
"How's the potion brewing coming along?" I inquired, taking a peek at what he was doing. The contents of the cauldron was a beautiful blue color, meaning it was another perfectly made potion.
As a House Elf, Inky was just as magical as a witch or wizard, and could handle tasks like brewing potions, though from what he told me, it was rare that that was ever asked of them. Apparently, wizarding folk believed that having a House Elf brew a potion made it weaker, or spoiled it. Sorta like how the ancient Fay had curdled milk and done other tricks. Before they vanished mysteriously one day and were replaced by House Elves. What a curious coincidence.
However, as far as I could tell by testing the potions Inky made versus the ones made by myself, there was no evidence for that claim.
'Probably relates to the rule that states non-humans can't have wands,' I thought bitterly. 'God, what a backwards society!'
"Inky is just finishing up the latest batch," the House Elf informed me. "Inky has also put in the order for new ingredients. We were running low on dittany, aloe oil, and wiggentree bark."
"Excellent!" I said. "When the potion has cooled and you've finished mixing in the aloe vera oil, can you put it into jars for me? And how many Wiggenweld Creams will I have when you're done?"
"With this next batch you will have one-hundred jars worth," Inky dutifully informed me.
"Hmm, that's good for a week's work, but that will be sold out within half a month. Assuming we don't get any new customers. We'll need to find a way to brew it faster and in larger quantities," I mused to myself. "I need to come up with a better, catchier name for my product, too. Can't call it a Wiggenweld Cream forever."
"Why?" Inky asked, tilting his head to the side.
"Partly because I don't want anyone from the magical side of things to know what I'm doing," I admitted. "Can't sell magical stuff to muggles. Not legally, at least. Even if they know about magic in the first place, which is a load of hooey."
It was a risk if a muggleborn or muggle-savvy half-blood came across my product and recognized the name as a reference to a magical potion.
"Hmm, what about Yggdrasil, or something like that?" I wondered. "The World Tree is an ash tree, and wiggentrees are technically a magical sub-species of rowans, which are ashes."
"Actually, now that I think of it, using the Yggdrasil would be a great idea for a product logo," I realized. "Yeah… yeah! That could work!"
"Is everything alright, young master?" Inky inquired as I began to pace around the apartment's living room area, muttering to myself.
"Huh? What do you mean?" I uttered, glancing over at the floppy-eared creature.
"Young master only mutters and paces when he is thinking hard about sad things," Inky replied. "What bothers the young master?"
"You know me too well," I sighed. "I just… Inky, what if I met someone, and they were in trouble? But getting involved with them could cause me trouble as well?"
"Young Master Eddie is a kind man," Inky claimed. "Only a good person would worry about not helping someone."
He hopped down from the stool, the cauldron stirrer still mixing itself independently with the elf's magic. "Do what you can. I and Mistress Wissy will also help you if you ask."
"Alright," I muttered. "You're right, as always, Inky. Thank you."
I'd tried to shove it to the back of my mind, but it was impossible to ignore. Harry Potter was real. He was a real person and he was suffering. Could I really just sit back and let his relatives hurt him? Could I abandon someone in harm, knowing I could make a difference?
No. No I could not. I might not be the most morally upright person in the world, but I damn well wasn't someone who'd sit back and watch someone I knew suffer when I had the means to help them. So come hell or high water, and against my better judgement, I was getting involved in Harry Potter's life.
And from what I'd seen so far, he was going to need a lot of help.
The next morning, I got up a couple minutes early so I could help Harry with his homework and other issues. We would meet up in the library, like we'd done yesterday, and I would help him as best I could with his various problems.
Helping the Boy-Who-Lived with his academic stuff was only a small part of what I hoped to do for him. I planned on getting him bulked up somewhat because he was far too skinny for his own good. And maybe a bit of help with social interactions. I only had a year to work with him, but I was going to do the best I could with the time I had.
"Morning, Harry," I said, greeting the younger boy as I stepped into Woolingsby's library. He looked up, a flicker of apprehension in his gaze, but he wasn't flinching like yesterday, so I took it as a win.
"Morning," he said slowly.
"So! Let's look over your math homework first, shall we?" I suggested, and he nodded, pulling out his worksheets.
I glanced over them, my Occlumency helping me read them faster than normal, and I pulled out a pencil and delicately marked down spots where he'd gotten some stuff wrong.
"Alright, you did pretty good. Math is mostly just remembering the rules, so once you have that down, you'll be on the right track," I said.
As we worked, I heard a loud grumble come from Harry's stomach, and I frowned, giving him a concerned look.
"Are you hungry?" I asked him, and he shook his head quickly.
"I'm fine!" he responded. "I ate breakfast today!"
"The way you said that makes me think you don't eat breakfast every day," I replied shortly, which made him hunch over and curl up in on himself.
"Hope you like bologna, cheddar, and mayo," I said, making a snap decision, and reached into my backpack, extracting the sandwich Inky had made for my lunch. "Eat. Go on, do it. I don't care if we're in the library right now, you're not going to class hungry, and I can always buy my lunch from the cafeteria."
Harry recoiled, taken aback that someone was taking such an interest in him and his wellbeing, and hesitantly took the offered sandwich. Despite his best efforts to resist, it smelled good, and he scarfed it down in less than a minute.
'Okay, definitely telling Inky to make me two lunches from now on. And an extra breakfast,' I thought to myself as I watched him eat like a starving person. Which, come to think of it, he just might have been. I also brought out the bottle of water, apple, and bag of chips I'd brought with me to accompany my lunch, and slid them over to where Harry was sitting.
I quietly held back my anger at the Dursleys and Dumbledore, and instead pretended like I wasn't watching him eat as I went over his history homework.
My feelings of concern over my decision to get involved with Harry dwindled even further.
Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Halloween Fun
Chapter Text
Chapter 12: Halloween Fun
Several weeks passed by, and Harry Potter and I continued to work together. We hadn't gotten closer, as the black-haired youth was still wary of me, but he didn't seem to be as afraid as before.
He was cautious and kept his distance, but he didn't refuse me when I began providing him with breakfast and lunch every day. Well, he tried to say no, but I didn't listen and forced Harry to take the food whenever we met before class.
It was currently Halloween, one of my favorite times of the year. At least it had been, before reincarnating. The British didn't have the largest celebration of the day like Americans did, though the costumes and candy was still a thing to a limited extent.
The problem for me was that Halloween was very different for the magical world. It was All Hallow's Day, or Samhain if you were a pretentious pureblood like my father.
For the magical world, the day was a time to honor one's ancestors (and appease them if they happened to show up as ghosts), and to also take advantage of the abundance of magic. For reasons I was unsure of, magic ebbed and flowed. There were days when it was greater, and times it was weaker. Never truly weak enough to be noticed in day to day living for the average wizard or witch, but these changes existed, and were closely monitored and recorded. Samhain fell onto one of these waxings of magic. Certain spells became stronger, specific rituals could be done safely, and a whole lot more.
And in more recent years, Halloween for mages meant celebrating the defeat of Voldemort at the hands of baby Harry Potter. The mood was a mixture of somber and celebratory, as people lamented the losses taken in the war while cheering for the defeat of one of Britain's Dark Lords.
One way or another, this meant there were going to be a lot of intoxicated magicals wandering around London, and an equal increase in Aurors making sure the drunkards don't cause any magical problems.
I didn't want to be recognized by anyone from the magical side today, for a variety of reasons, so I was waiting eagerly to leave school and go home to do some special potion brewing. I wanted to test if it was possible to use the increase in latent magical energy to brew certain things without relying on any overtly magical ingredients.
"You look excited," Sam said to me as the bell rang and school was let out for the day.
"Yeah, I've got a few projects to work on," I replied.
"Ah, so you're not all aflutter at the thought of dressing up for Halloween," Sam said with a roll of his eyes, as if he'd been expecting it.
"I don't like scary things," I replied. "Also, not really a fan of costumes. I do like the candy, though."
"You sure do," Sam said, giving me a sideways glance. "I have no idea how you can eat so much and stay skinny."
"I don't eat that much!" I protested. "Plus, half of the stuff is for Harry anyways. Boy needs to get some meat on those bones."
"Mmm, that's true," Sam agreed. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you to be so good at teaching someone. Or to get along with the kid. You're very… I wouldn't say stand-offish, but definitely reluctant to open up to people."
"Guilty as charged," I said with a nod. "But still, I guess I just… feel bad for it."
"Because his situation reminds you of your own?" Sam guessed.
"Because his situation is worse than mine," I replied grimly.
"You think he's being abused?" Sam asked seriously as we left the school building.
"Absolutely," I grunted. "And even if he isn't being hit or starved – which I am fairly certain he is, in fact – he's being neglected. Plus, have you seen his cousin?"
"The little land whale? Of course I have. Brat's utterly obnoxious, it's hard not to notice him," Sam said, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "And he has an ugly name, too. Seriously, Dudley?"
"Yeah. So, you can see why I'd feel a bit protective around Harry," I said.
"I can see that," Sam nodded. "Are you going to go trick-or-treating this year?"
"No, like I said…" I began, but trailed off as I heard a commotion going on up the street.
"…than me, you freak?!"
Up ahead, the two people we'd just been talking about were visible. Harry was surrounded by Dudley and his gang of fellow bullies, who were, for the moment, only throwing taunts, and not getting physical.
"Why won't you leave me alone, Dudley?" Harry asked sourly, keeping his eyes down.
"Because of you, mom and dad took away my new bike!"
"All I did was get a better grade than you in math!" Harry protested.
"Freaks like you aren't supposed to get good grades!" Dudley snarled. "Freaks like you shouldn't even be going to school!"
He then shoved Harry roughly, which forced him back, but one of Dudley's goons – Piers if I wasn't mistaken – caught him and shoved Harry right back, preventing him from leaving the circle.
"Okay, now I see where you're coming from with your protective streak," Sam muttered as he watched the scene with an expression of shock and horror creeping across his face. He then looked around, bewildered. "We're not even that far from school, either. Why isn't someone stopping this?"
"Because the administration is a bunch of cowards and incompetents," I replied, my own voice laced with disgust as I spotted two different faculty members just standing idly nearby and watching, not even trying to do anything. "Anyways, I think I've seen enough, come on, Sam, help me break this up."
Sam and I only managed to take two steps forwards before Dudley opened his stupid mouth once more.
"You should have died along with your parents! No one wants you!"
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Not even someone like Harry could let something like that slide, and he looked up with fury in his eyes at his cousin.
"Holy shit!" I swore aloud as Harry let out a pulse of wild, emotion fueled magic at those words. The sidewalk under his feet cracked, his hair began to rise as if struck by static, a blast of wind sent fallen leaves spinning and flying through the air and pushed the bullies backwards a few steps, and despite the mostly clear sky, a bolt of lightning crackled down from the heavens, hitting a nearby tree and setting it alight.
People nearby screamed in shock as the tree exploded into flames, and pretty much everyone's attention was on that pyrotechnical display.
I took the opportunity it provided and rushed forward towards Harry, shoving Dudley and the rest of his goons harshly aside before grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him off down the street before something else happened.
I didn't bother to look back, and ignored the yelp of surprise that Dudley let out when he fell on his fat ass – sorry, arse – and kept power walking away with Harry. Sam was trailing behind, following me and Harry, and I could feel the confusion in his gaze he was giving me.
Harry had been surprised by my appearance, that much was clear from his wide-eyed expression, and for the moment he was willing to let me drag him around away from his awful cousin.
"What the heck just happened back there?!" Sam finally shouted at me once we were several blocks away from the school.
"Nothing," I replied hastily, refusing to look at him or Harry.
"Nothing?! You and I have very different definitions of that word, Edward Rose!" Sam snapped, and I winced.
'Uh-oh, full name,' I thought as I blanched with worry. 'He never uses it unless I've really pissed him off!'
"Wind and the ground cracking beneath his feet? Hair acting like he'd been shocked? A god-damned lightning bolt?! Alone, they'd a weird happenstance. Altogether, and it's downright suspicious!" Sam declared. "What just happened, Ed? You know something!"
"What makes you say that?" I uttered.
"Because you clearly acted like you did!" Sam said in exasperation. "You reacted way too quickly for someone who'd have been surprised by it all!"
"He's kinda right," Harry said, giving me an apologetic frown when I shot him a betrayed look. "You did seem like you knew what was going on."
I slowed my pace, and glanced between the two of them. After being stared at by my friend and mentee, I caved in, and decided to do something I hadn't planned on doing for at least another year.
"I'll explain back at home," I replied with a heavy sigh. "It's not safe to talk about this outside in the open."
That caused Harry to blink in surprise, and Sam narrowed his eyes at me, but they both nodded after a moment.
I led them back to my apartment, and led them inside, though I did check to make sure Inky wasn't inside. He was pretty good at knowing when non-magical visitors were coming over thanks to the wards he and mom had set up around the place, but I was still relieved he'd taken the time to pop away for the moment.
"It's been a while since I've been over here," Sam said, looking around the rather bare living room area. "Always felt your place was pretty depressing from how empty it is."
"It's fine, I prefer it this way," I said, waving his concerns off.
"So, what's going on? What's wrong with Harry?" Sam demanded, hands on his hips as he faced me.
"Tea? Coffee?" I inquired, trying to be a good host. And if it kept me from having to speak about what had happened, all the better.
"Stop stalling," Sam ordered, and I sighed.
"Alright, alright," I grunted. "And for the record, Harry is perfectly fine. He's just… look, neither of you can tell anyone anything about what I'm about to reveal to you."
Harry nodded slowly, and Sam waved at me to continue.
"Harry Potter is a wizard," I said, deciding to rip the band-aid off right away. "What he did was a burst of accidental magic, which can happen when a young magic user's emotions run high."
The two of them stared at me as if I was an escaped mental patient. I rolled my eyes at their disbelief. "Yeah, yeah, I know, it's a wild and crazy claim, but it's true."
I pointed a finger at Harry who recoiled a bit. "You! Haven't you ever experienced strange things happening around you before? Like the time the teacher's hair turned blue, or you appeared on the roof without having climbed it?"
Harry jerked in surprise when I brought those two examples up and he stared at me, dumbfounded.
"Oh, yeah, I remember that first incident," Sam mused. "Her hair was a really bright blue color, wasn't it? No one could explain how it happened. In the end, it was blamed on a student playing a prank with some dye, but I never bought it."
"Yeah, that was a case of accidental magic. And unless there's another magical student at Woolingsby, which to be fair is a possibility, then it has to be because of Harry."
"How do you know it was me?" Harry demanded, his disbelief slowly turning to anger at what he assumed was a terrible joke at his expense.
I bit my lower lip at that. There were several ways I could do that, but in the end, I decided to use the best example I could think of.
"Wait here," I instructed, and went over to my bedroom. Inside, I grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered to me this morning off the nightstand next to my bed. My mother had paid for a subscription for me, and as much as it was fluff pieces and propaganda, I found it useful as it let me stay up to date with what went on in the magical world. At least, what the Ministry allowed people to know about. I much preferred the Quibbler, honestly. Their puzzle section was a lot of fun.
The reason I wanted the Daily Prophet right now, however, was for a particular article on the front page, and I shoved it into Harry's hands.
"Read this," I ordered him, and he stared at me, then at the paper he was holding, eyes fixating on the moving black and white picture on the front of what was otherwise a completely normal newspaper.
"Um, why is that picture moving?" Sam asked as he stared at it. "And how?"
Harry, meanwhile, couldn't tear his eyes away from the picture. Something about the man and woman in it were familiar, yet he couldn't put his finger on why.
"The Daily Prophet?" Sam continued. "What the heck kind of name is that? Is this… wait, what's going on here, Ed?"
"Nine years ago, on October 31st, 1981, James and Lily Potter died trying to protect their one-year-old son, Harry Potter, from the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," I said slowly, repeating part of the front-page article the photo was attached to. "Although no one knows exactly what happened that night, the truth of the matter is that the Dark Lord was defeated, and Harry Potter became the first person in history to survive a direct strike from the infamous Killing Curse."
"I-I don't understand," Harry said shakily. "My parents… my aunt said they died in a car accident… that they were drunks…"
"That was a nothing more than a filthy lie spoken by a jealous bint," I replied sharply, the venom in my voice startling Harry and Sam's attention away from the magical newspaper. "Your parents are heroes, never, ever, think otherwise."
The two of them stared at me, before returning to the words on the page.
"What is this?" Sam finally asked, sounding rattled.
"That is the largest and most read newspaper within the magical community of Wizarding Britain," I explained. "It's not always the most accurate, as the Ministry of Magic has a pretty solid grip on what they let be published, but it's good for a surface view at the very least."
"Uh-huh," Sam said slowly, still looking confused. "Um, next question: Magic is real?"
"Yeah," I said awkwardly. "Please don't say anything to anyone. I don't want to be Obliviated or worse, fined for leaking the existence of magic to a non-magical."
"Lemme just sit down real quick," my friend muttered to himself before sinking onto the couch. Harry sat down beside him, and I dragged a chair from the dining room so I could sit down and face them.
"All those things I did… it was my magic acting up?" Harry asked after a moment. "Like the time my hair grew back overnight after a bad haircut, or the time I shrunk my cousin's sweater so it'd fit me? Or when my glasses broke, but then they seemed fined a couple hours later?"
"Sounds like accidental magic to me," I hummed, not recognizing two of the examples he gave as being from the books. "Rather subdued forms of it, honestly. My brother burped up glowing bubbles when he got really excited one Christmas morning, and turned all of his pillows into puppies another time."
"Your brother… he's magical?" Sam asked. "Wait, what about you? Are you a wizard?"
"No, I'm not," I said, trying and failing to hide the bitterness in my voice. "I'm what is known as a squib. A person without magic born to parents who did have magic."
"Let me explain a few things," I said when I saw the looks of confusion on the two of them. "First, is that there is a whole society of magic users, hidden all over the world from non-magical people…"
It took a few hours to give a barebones overview of wizarding society, from the Statue of Secrecy, to the local magical government and education system, to what I knew of the rest of the magical world outside of England's borders.
By the time my explanation was over, both Sam and Harry eyes had glazed over as they tried to process the deluge of information I'd delivered to them.
"Holy shit," Sam finally uttered. "A whole world full of dragons and witches and magical shit that'd make Gygax froth at the mouth… and it's been hidden under our noses this whole time for centuries?"
"That's how it is," I said. "Again, remember what I said about the Obliviators wiping your mind if you go around spreading this stuff. That's part of how they've kept themselves secret for so long."
"Yeah, okay," Sam said with a nervous laugh. "Who'd even believe me, anyways?"
"That's the spirit!" I said with faux-cheerfulness. I then glanced at Harry. "How about you? Any questions?"
"Why…" he muttered softly. "Why was I never told? About any of this? Why was I left with the Dursleys all this time?"
"Ah, that question doesn't have an easy answer. Nor is it one you'll like," I said with a wince. "Where to start…"
"The beginning, perhaps?" Sam said snarkily, some of his former easy-going attitude surfacing once more.
"It begins over a decade ago, when the terrorist known as the Dark Lord Voldemort led his group, the Death Eaters, on a crusade to murder those they saw as 'impure,'" I said darkly. "To them, the 'impure' were anyone who wasn't a full-blooded user of magic. The older the family, and the longer the magical lineage, the better. Think Nazis but with a feudalistic bent."
"They rampaged for years across England. You might remember some of the things they did from the news," I said to Sam. "The Kent Explosion, the Collapse of Avon-on-Brightly's bridge, the mutilated corpses found in their homes, and the sinking of the tourist ferry, The Princess, were all done by the Death Eaters."
"That was them?!" Sam demanded angrily.
"Yes, it was, and many more," I said darkly. "But some of the worst of their atrocities were done in the dark against their own people. Against magicals who opposed them and weren't the 'right sort.' But one day, all of their rampages came to a screeching halt when they attacked a certain family. The Potters."
"My parents?" Harry whispered.
"Yes. James and Lily Potter were a young married couple, and they were part of a group who fought against the Death Eaters. They were brave and opposed the Dark Lord directly, even fighting him off a couple times," I revealed. "This was an insult Voldemort could not – and would not – let stand. And so, he attacked your parents at their hideout."
"They fought him, but sadly, were no match for his power, worse, was that it was a surprise attack and a betrayal, for their hiding place had been given up by someone they'd trusted with their lives," I said, and Harry and Sam both leaned in, enraptured by my words. "James was the first to die. And then, in front of your crib, your mother tried to defend you from him. Voldemort murdered her, and then planned on finishing off the Potter bloodline once and for all by killing you."
I sighed heavily. "Somehow, you survived. Against literally all odds, the Killing Curse, which can destroy and kill anything, did not affect you. And though no one knows how or why, the Dark Lord was destroyed. Blown up, somehow. Likely from his own curse rebounding onto him when it failed to kill you. His entire body was vaporized, though you were unharmed. All it left was that scar on your head."
Harry unconsciously reached up to touch the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead at that revelation.
"Afterwards, you were taken from the ruins of your house – which had exploded along with Voldemort – by a man named Albus Dumbledore. He's a famous figure in the wizarding world because he defeated another Dark Lord back in World War Two, and is also the Headmaster of the magical school all magical students in the UK attend. It was he who made the decision to place you with your only living relatives, who unfortunately for you happened to be the Dursleys."
"Now, as far as the rest of the magical world is concerned, you are a hero," I stated. "But the truth is no one knows where you are. I assume Dumbledore did it to keep you safe."
"Safe?" Harry uttered incredulously.
"Yeah. See, even though Voldemort was blown up, his minions still were on the loose. And they were able to blend back into the civilian populace with their master gone, as the Death Eaters had often done their foul work masked and disguised. The few who were caught were punished harshly, though some managed to escape justice by bribing their way out. Keep in mind, most of these Death Eaters were from old and inbred families, and many were rich, which was partly why the magical government had such a hard time against them. Even in a society of spells, gold speaks louder than words far too often," I explained. "And quite a few of the Death Eaters wouldn't have hesitated to murder you in revenge for the defeat of their leader. For whatever reason, Dumbledore thought keeping you out of the magical world was the safest option. I disagree completely, but what do I know?"
"Jesus," Sam whispered. "That's heavy."
"Yup," I said with a nod, before glancing at the clock and wincing at the time. "Wow, half-past six? It's gotten late. I think it's time to call Sam's mom before it gets any later."
"Sam's mom?" Harry uttered in bewilderment.
"Or his dad. Got to get you back home somehow," I said, giving Harry an apologetic look. "I don't want people looking for you if you don't go home. Magical or otherwise."
Harry hesitated, looking at me, and then at Sam. "Do I have to?"
"Yeah. Sorry," I said with an apologetic frown. "At least tonight is Halloween. Anyone who might be curious about your absence will probably think you were out trick-or-treating."
"I'll make the call," Sam said, getting up off the couch. "Um, where's your phone?"
I pointed him to the landline mounted on the wall near the dining room, and he went over to it and dialed his family. That left me and Harry alone for the moment.
"Sorry, this must be a lot to take in," I said apologetically.
"You knew who I was this whole time?" Harry asked, sounding anxious and betrayed.
"I did," I admitted. "I'm sorry for not telling you the truth at the time. But, well, the Statute of Secrecy is a big deal. And I could have gotten into a lot of trouble if anyone found out I was talking to you at all. They might have wiped all my memories of magic. Or worse. And there'd be nothing I could do."
"Why did you, then?" Harry inquired. "Why did you agree to mentor me? To help me? Because I'm famous?"
"Just because I feared the consequences doesn't mean I thought you deserved to keep suffering, not when I could have done something to alleviate it," I replied firmly. "Your fame means little to me. Your wellbeing is more important than that. And when I saw you for the first time… how could I not want to help you?"
Harry looked down at his feet, blushing a bit at that. He wasn't used to anyone showing him such affection, and had no idea how to handle it.
"I'll keep teaching you," I promised. "But now, there's going to be lessons about magic and the magical world thrown in to help you out when you go to Hogwarts."
"What now?"
"Hogwarts. The magical school I mentioned earlier," I said. "Dumb name, I know, but all magical children from the ages of 11 to 17 have to attend the seven-year curriculum to give you a basic overview of magic. It basically covers the equivalent of Middle and High School with a dash of early university level learning. Though be warned, Hogwarts only covers magical subjects. They don't teach math, science, or non-magical history until your third year. And even then, those are optional classes at best."
"The lack of math sounds pretty good right now," Harry said with a chuckle.
"Heh, yeah, I agree, but as much as I hate to say it, math is actually pretty important," I said with a chortle of my own.
"Okay, dad said he's happy to come over to get us and give Harry a ride back home as well," Sam said, walking back to the couch. "He'll be here in ten minutes or so. Twenty at the latest."
"Good," I said. "I'll answer any other questions you two have."
We chatted for a bit longer, with me giving a few more explanations about the magical world until Sam's father arrived in his car and took my two guests. I leaned back in my seat once they were gone, and let out a heavy sigh.
"Not how I wanted this to go," I muttered. "But I suppose no plan survive contact with the enemy. Or Harry Potter, in this case."
I snickered to myself. "At least things won't be boring, that's for sure!"
Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Wisdom and Knowledge
Chapter Text
Chapter 13: Wisdom and Knowledge
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling nervous as I walked to school the day after Halloween. The Thursday morning was crisp and cool, and I grew more anxious the closer I got to Woolingsby.
'What will Harry think?' I couldn't help but wonder. 'And Sam? How is this going to change our dynamic? Our friendship?'
I did not regret telling them about magic. It was a risk, yes, but it was something that'd needed to be done.
My thoughts then drifted to the real reason I was so nervous.
'I just hope Harry is alright,' I thought to myself. 'Dudley better not have gotten Harry into any trouble, or I swear to god I will call Child Protective Services on the Dursleys and damn the consequences!'
Walking past the tree Harry had struck with his lightning yesterday, I was relieved to see that the flames hadn't spread far, and that other than being split down the middle, no damage to the surroundings had occurred. I couldn't help but wonder if any Obliviators had come by, or if the magical outburst had even been noticed. I had only a vague idea of how the trace worked thanks to my mother and some books I'd read, but so far it seemed that Harry wasn't under its influence yet since no one had come snooping around.
I reached the school building with my mind awhirl over a dozen different topics, and went inside, making a beeline to the library. Within the familiar book-stuffed walls, I felt some of the tension leave me when I spotted Harry waiting at our usual table in the back. So, he didn't want to ditch me just yet.
"Morning," I greeted him, trying to seem casual.
"Morning," he replied back.
"Are you okay? Did Dudley or anyone else give you a hard time for coming home late?" I asked him, and to my relief he shook his head.
"No, Dudley and his gang were out trick-or-treating when Mr. Parson dropped me off," Harry said with a shake of his head. "And I was able to sneak in through the back without Aunt Petunia noticing. And when Dudley did get back, he was too hopped up on sugar to do anything expect crash."
I grimaced at the fact he'd had to sneak around like that, and decided to distract myself with handing over the breakfast and lunch Inky had made for him.
"How are you holding up with, uh, what I told you yesterday?" I inquired, and Harry bit his lip in thought before answering.
"It's hard to believe," he admitted. "But everything just… makes sense now that I have a context for it."
"Good," I nodded.
"And you said I'd be going to a new school soon?" he asked hopefully. "Hogwash?"
"Hogwarts," I corrected. "And yes. You'll get a letter, possibly by owl – we use owls to deliver mail, if you recall from last night's lecture – or some other odd, magical way, around the time you turn 11."
"I turn eleven next July," he said, a note of hope and excitement within his voice. "I really won't have to spend the year with them?"
"Yup. It's a boarding school. You can leave during winter and spring breaks, and you have to come back for the summer, but that's manageable, hopefully."
"Yeah. Maybe if they don't see me for more than six months out of the year, it'll make things better the short while I do have to stay around them," Harry said, looking excited at the prospect.
Damn it, now I wanted to hug the poor boy! What kind of life does he live where he thinks that sort of deal is the best sort he can hope for?!
"Well, until you're going there, you have some school work to do here," I said, motioning for him to hand over the homework I needed to go over. He grimaced but complied, giving it to me.
"Can't I just flunk them?" Harry pleaded. "They won't matter in the long run!"
"No can do," I replied with a chuckle. "I made a promise to get your grades up, and I'm going to do just that! Besides, I think keeping up with your muggle studies while also getting a magical education wouldn't hurt you."
"That seems like hard work," Harry grumbled.
"Probably. But hey, look at it this way! You'll impress the ladies in both worlds if you can show off your high grades."
Harry scrunched up his nose at the thought of 'girls' and shook his head with a grimace, which only made me chuckle harder.
"One day," I promised him. "One day."
"Tell me more about that sport wizards play," Harry pleaded, trying to change the subject.
Seeing the sparkle in his eye as I explained Quidditch and flying brooms to him, I knew that he was going to be a real broom-head, just like his counterpart in the books.
{&&&&&}
After meeting with Harry in the library, I was feeling upbeat. My good mood continued when I saw Sam before class, and he gave me a nod in greeting instead of ignoring me, as I'd feared he might after learning about my heritage.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey, yourself," I replied. "How's everything on your end? Last night got… wacky."
"Tell me about it," Sam sighed. "I could barely sleep my head was so full of thoughts."
He discreetly looked about, checking to see if anyone was listening in. Nobody was, but it was a smart thing to do all the same.
"Can I swing by your flat after school?" he asked. "I have some more questions."
"Sure thing, I'll do what I can to help," I replied. Sam nodded gratefully, and together we waited for the school day to come to an end.
Once it was over, we hastened to make our way to my home, and I let him inside.
"Sorry about the mess," I said as he eyed the pile of vials and magical ingredients in the kitchenette.
"No problem," he muttered. "Still trying to wrap my head around this 'magic' stuff."
"Yeah, I get it," I said sympathetically. I pulled out a chair for him and turned on the electric kettle for tea. "So, what can I do for you?"
"I have a couple questions," he admitted.
"Ask away," I said.
"Do potions work on, well, anyone?" he asked.
"Some work better on magicals, others can be multipurpose. It depends on what you want to do," I replied. "Most healing potions can work on anybody, because the healing effect is coming from the potion itself, rather than drawing from the body's reserves of magic."
"And what about spells?" Sam queried.
"Spells work on anybody," I confirmed. "Magical or mundane, it doesn't matter who the target is. Some wizards argue they're more effective on non-magicals, because they lack inner reserves of magical energy and thus lack magic resistance, but in my opinion, that's just pureblood bias talking. Plus, there's no proof of natural 'magic resistance' even existing. At least in humans. Some magical creatures have it, like basilisks, sphinxes, and dragons, but no sapient magical race has anything like that."
I then cocked my head to the side. "Sorry, got lost on a tangent. Is there anything else, Sam?"
"How much can magic do?" Sam asked.
"A lot. If there's not a spell for something, it's not impossible to try and invent a new one, but that takes time and a lot of different disciplines and areas of study. And whatever a spell cast by a wand can do, potions and runes can do as well."
Sam took a deep breath, shoulders tense. "Can… can it turn me into a woman?"
Sam's question hung in the air for a long time even after he'd spoken and I slowly shook my head.
"No, I'm unaware of anything currently in existence that can do that," I admitted. "There might be gender swapping curses, and there are a plethora of physical alternation spells and potions, but to my knowledge, none of them are permanent."
I then leaned in towards my best friend. "How long have you been, uh, you know… thinking about this?"
"Um, a year or so," he admitted, the tension in his posture easing up slightly when I didn't immediately act weirded out. "I've been thinking about it for a while, but… I just don't know. I don't feel right. Like my body doesn't fit. Does that make sense?"
"Sounds like body dysmorphia," I claimed. "But to be honest… yeah, I kinda do know what not feeling 'right' in your body is like."
Sam tilted his head to the side, before his eyes widened. "Oh. Because of the, um, squib stuff?"
"That's part of it, yeah," I said. I didn't say a thing about my first couple of years as a baby in this world, trying to rationalize and come to terms with suddenly going from an adult to a newborn, and then also having a completely different appearance and everything else that came along with reincarnation.
Occlumency helped shove it down deep where it couldn't bother me, but at nights, I sometimes lay awake, terrified of waking up one day in a whole new body in a new world, as if this one had been naught but a dream. It wasn't fun. At all.
"I'm sorry," Sam said, looking down at the table.
"It's fine. And I'm sorry I can't help you immediately," I replied. "But! That doesn't mean I can't one day find an answer to your question."
"Really?" he asked, surprised.
"Sure! If magical folk can brew a potion that literally alters a person's luck, then I can damn well invent a gender changing potion," I replied firmly, folding my arms.
"That's amazing!" Sam said excitedly.
"Yup," I said with a nod.
"So… your healing cream. Is it real? I mean, is it real magic?" Sam asked.
"It is! But it uses completely mundane ingredients. The 'spark' of magic that gives it its unique properties comes from a combination of enchanted brewing items and the faint magical energy within the ingredients. All living things have magic in them, you know. Most things lack enough to actually do anything, though."
"You know, speaking of your potions," Sam said thoughtfully, "You should probably think about doing some major pushes if you actually want to sell your potions in a wider market."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Selling your stuff locally is good and all, but if you want to really make a living off of it, you'll need to make way more than a few jars worth a month, and to have more potential buyers. Plus, you need a brand name and logo. Something that pops and stands out, ya know?"
"Yeah, I do," I said. "I just don't really know where to start with it."
"Well, why don't you ask my mom for help?" Sam suggested. "She used to work in marketing before she had me and sis."
"That's not a bad idea," I mused.
"Right?" Sam chuckled. "And, um, I have another question."
"Shoot."
"Can you help me with my math homework?" Sam requested, and I chuckled.
"Sure thing," I said with a grin.
We did our homework together, finishing it up quickly, and then he'd left, feeling upbeat. I, however, was left with my thoughts.
Sam had been gone for a few hours now, and I'd been distracted long before then. I sat at the table and stared down at a blank piece of paper, Sam's words repeating over and over in my head.
He was right, of course. I needed a brand. An image. A logo. Just selling to housewives and relying on word of mouth wouldn't do, I'd have to aggressively advertise my medical creams.
Loathe as I was to spend money on anything other than potion ingredients, I'd need to do so to make my marketing campaign work. Flyers, posters, the works. And of course, I'd have to start selling my products further afield, rather than hanging around my current neighborhood. Did Britain have farmer's markets? I'd need to look into that.
'I'll also need to find a way to up the production limits,' I thought to myself. 'Hire another squib? No, unless they're younger than me, they won't take a teen seriously. Could I perhaps pay Sam? I have found a few ways to imbue magic into the potion making process with runes and special stirring rods, so even someone without magic can brew some of the more complicated potions.'
I shook my head. 'Something to think about for later. But I will need personnel. Someone to handle the money I'll be making, and security, eventually. PR, sales… so many different things!'
'I'll have to speak with Tarsworth about who to talk to for a business license,' I continued to ponder. 'But first things first. A name and a logo. But what?'
After thinking it over for a bit, I finally came up with the idea for both the logo and my future company name.
With a few strokes of the pen, I had it; the Omega symbol, with two small 'legs' at the bottom of the 'U' shape. Then, above it, I wrote down the name to go with the logo.
CAULDRON.
It was a blatant case of 'borrowing' heavily from the web novel series Worm, but who was going to sue me over it here? Besides, it was fitting. The name and logo had been used by a secret society of superpowered jerks to guide the development of human history. And here I was, taking knowledge from another, much larger, secret society to sell to unaware people.
Plus, ya know, I was making 'herbal remedies' for healing purposes, and people associated witches and cauldrons with potions, but obviously such things weren't real. Duh.
I chuckled to myself. Hiding in plain sight. It was fiendishly clever. Even if a wizard did spot my company name and looked into it, they'd just find me, a regular old squib. I couldn't do magic, so therefore I couldn't be selling anything magical to the muggles, and was probably only using the name as a marketing ploy and means of trying to keep ties to the magical family side of things. Nothing suspicious here!
"Inky," I called out, and the House Elf popped in next to me.
"Yes, young master Eddy?"
"It's time to whip up some more potions. Set the cauldron on the stove, we've got brewing to do!" I declared, jabbing a finger towards the sky.
Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Christmas Spirits
Chapter Text
Chapter 14: Christmas Spirits
I looked down at the deck of cards in my hands. They felt oddly heavily, and they didn't fit neatly into the palms of my hands, making them awkward to hold. Slowly, I shuffled them, and then carefully laid the top three out onto the table in front of me.
"Well? What does it say?" Sam asked eagerly, sitting across from me. Between us at the table was Harry Potter, also looking curious.
"I have no idea," I admitted after a bit of staring at the tarot cards I'd laid out. "I think this configuration means great changes are coming for me, but it's really vague. I much prefer using the rune bones to tarot cards."
Divination. Something of a joke discipline, even in the magical world. Prophecies absolutely existed, no one denied that, and Seers did exist, but the natural talent for it was rare, and as such most of the time, trying to scry the future failed. There were ways to predict things like future events using Arithmancy, the magical art of numbers, but it was closer to how muggle systems worked, by analyzing and predicting trends.
Still, there were methods to trick fate into giving up its secrets. The method I preferred the most was rune bones, which were the knuckle bones of sheep, carved into dice and engraved with runes. Depending on the way they fell, information could be gleaned from them. You were supposed to soak them in Felix Felis, or Liquid Luck potion, for best results, but there was no way I could afford to brew it or buy a vial of my own. So I made do with regular ones I'd hand-carved myself.
'Plus, if I practice Divination now, I can use that as an excuse for my future meta-knowledge,' I mused to myself. 'You're a genius, Edward!'
"Well, we can't use those anymore. Not at school, at least. Apparently playing with dice is 'gambling' and thus 'morally reprehensible,'" Sam said, using air quotes to get across how dumb he thought it was.
"Yeah, bunch of hypocrites," I grunted. "I know for a fact eight of the staff here in Woolingsby gamble. And at least two of them are addicted to it!"
"Maybe that's why they're telling us not to gamble, then?" Harry suggested meekly.
"Maybe. Doesn't make it any less dumb," I grumbled. I then shot Harry a stern look. "And drink your medicine, Harry. You need it."
Ever since I'd told Harry about magic, I'd done a few things for him. First was teach him all about magical society. I was not going to let him run into Hogwarts ignorant of how things worked over there.
Secondly, I'd taught him and Sam about Occlumency. It didn't need magic to work, after all, and Harry needed every advantage. A sharper memory and superior control over his emotions would do wonders in the long term. And I didn't want Snape or Dumbles to probe his young mind and find out about me. Sam just enjoyed the fact he could memorize the lessons easier.
The third and final thing I'd done was start dosing the boy with potions. Mainly Nourishment potions, to repair the decade's worth of damage living with the Dursley's had done to him. He was way too skinny, far too short and weak, and his eyes were absolutely crap. Though the latter may have simply been genetics. Regardless, a few months of these potions slipped into his breakfast in the form of milkshakes and he wouldn't be a twig when he got to Hogwarts.
Harry just nodded and grabbed onto the thermos I'd brought for him, slurping down the Nourishment potion laced milkshake inside. Today's flavor was chocolate.
I glanced out the window out at the icy cold morning beyond. Weeks had passed since the Halloween incident, and it was now the middle of December. Things were frigid, and snow was threatening to fall soon if the thick grey clouds were any indicator.
"Any plans for Christmas, Ed?" Sam asked me, stirring me from my thoughts.
"Gonna spend some of it with the Weasleys," I replied as I packed away the tarot cards. I'd told the two about my circle of friends from the magical side, and naturally Harry and Sam had expressed interest in meeting them. That was something for another day, though.
"Not your mother?" Harry asked softly.
"I'll probably say 'Hi' to her, and give her the gift I made, but no. I won't be spending much time at Lumpkin's Patch this year," I said, a note of bitterness creeping in. "My brother is spending this Winter Break at home instead of Hogwarts."
"Ah. I see," Sam said slowly, and Harry winced in sympathy for me. Being more open with the two of them had its downsides. Namely them learning about Rudy and the crap he and his father had put me through.
I didn't let it get to me, however, and shrugged. "It's fine, guys. Anyways, speaking of gifts, I hope you two are excited for what I've got for you."
"We sure are!" Sam said excitedly. "What'd you make? Come on, give us a hint!"
"You'll see," I told them with a smug smile.
"Ugh, tease," Sam groaned, and Harry laughed softly at our interactions.
The bell rang before anything else could be discussed, and I escorted Harry to his classroom. Dudley, the little devil-brat, had been trying to ambush his cousin in the hallways ever since Halloween, and to prevent this, I'd started taking Harry to his classes whenever I could. It made me late sometimes, but I didn't care, and the teachers could glare at me all they wanted whenever I came in late and interrupted their classes, but it wouldn't stop me.
In some cases, a few of the more assholish teachers tried to sabotage me with pop quizzes or claims about my homework being late or some such malarky, but I was able to stomp their attempts flat with logic and simply being the top of all my classes. No matter how they whined to the administration, I was the top student in my year, and the bean counters and pencil-pushers loved the fact I brought the average grade scores up. So, they often ignored the teachers' complaints. Being the best had its perks.
Of course, when I saw the smug look on Mrs. Jonson's face when I got to her class after dropping off Harry, I knew something was up. The Math teacher was one of the worst offenders when it came to trying to get me in trouble.
'Probably something to do with the fact I keep acing all of her tests, and always know the answers to the questions whenever she calls on me in class,' I mused. Or it might have something to do with the fact she was related to Donny Miller, and I'd made that bully crap his pants whenever he tried to beat up Sam. Literally. Laxative potions snuck into his food worked every time to humiliate the little snot. Even after the brute had graduated Mrs. Jonson had apparently kept up some sort of vendetta towards me for it. She could never prove I'd done it, but that didn't seem to matter much to her.
"Mr. Rose, so glad you could make it here on time," she said, her voice oozing false sincerity. "Before I forget, however, the vice-principal wanted to see you."
"Cool, I'll see him after school if I have the time," I replied. I knew for a fact that the vice-principal was an incompetent piece of shit who loved to turn a blind eye to any bullying problems, and caved easily whenever any parents of said bullies denied their 'precious darling's' involvements.
And I was pretty sure he was skimming off the top of the school's budget because he had a nice, fancy car that was too expensive for his salary.
I enjoyed the look on Mrs. Jonson's face as it twisted with indignation. "No, you'll go see him now."
"Fine, not like I was going to learn anything in this class anyways," I said with a roll of my eyes. My classmates tittered at the comeback, just as unamused by Mrs. Jonson's antics as I was at this point. She hadn't made many friends – if any – among the students for her surly attitude and harsh penalties for missed work.
She glared at me, but I ignored her as I left the classroom. I made my way to the office, and went in. The secretary shot me a sympathetic look as I told her I was here to see Mr. Birch and waved me in.
"Hey, there, Mr. Birch," I said, greeting the vice-principal as I entered his office. "You wanted to see me?"
"I did. Have a seat, Mr. Rose," he requested. He was a boringly average man in his fifties with a bald spot on the top of his head, and he wore tweed jackets to make himself look more scholarly.
I sat down, and waited for him to speak.
"Mr. Rose, I've had some complaints from the mother of one of our younger students," Mr. Birch began.
"Let me guess, the name starts with 'D,' and ends with 'Ursley,'" I cut him off. "Is she complaining that I'm not letting her cunt of a son beat up her nephew whenever he wants?"
"That is not the issue!" Mr. Birch spluttered, and I shook my head.
"I don't believe you," I said, folding my arms.
"Mr. Rose! That is not the issue and you know it!" Mr. Birch snarled. "And don't think I haven't gotten complaints about your disrespectful attitude! You better start following the straight and narrower, or else!"
"Do something about the rampant bullying in this place and maybe I'll start giving a damn," I shot back to the vice-principal. "There's nothing you can do to scare me, either."
"Oh? Then you must not care about your transcripts, then," Mr. Birch threatened. "If you don't straighten up, you can kiss your chances at getting into college goodbye!"
"Threaten my grades again and I'll shatter that cueball you call a skull," I snarled at him, causing the man to rear back in shock from the venom in my voice.
"You, you can't threaten me like that!" Mr. Birch gasped.
"Can't I?" I growled. "You're a terrible administrator and a worse person. If you try and throw hands with me, I will fight back with everything I have."
"Get out!" he shouted at me. I decided to do as he asked, and got up and left his office, plans swirling through my mind as I did.
"Can I make a call?" I asked the secretary, who stared at me with wide eyes.
"What the hell happened, Ed?" Sam demanded, whispering to me as he and a bunch of other students watched as Mr. Birch was dragged out of his office by several police officers the next morning.
"The man made the mistake of threatening me. I retaliated before he could do anything," I whispered back, my voice low.
"What did you dig up on him, anyways?" Sam asked.
"Mostly just graft. See his shiny car? No way he could afford that on his salary," I replied. "Probably has some other things as well."
"How'd you manage to do it so quickly?" Sam wondered.
"I know a family friend who's an attorney. I told him my suspicions and he made some calls of his own," I explained.
'Of course, even I'm surprised by how fast this happened. Who knew Tarsworth was so influential?' I mused, watching as Mr. Birch was shoved into the police car.
"Squibs gotta squib together," I said under my breath with a snicker.
"That sounds ominous," Sam informed me.
"It's the truth, though," I replied. "Now come on, let's find Harry. I have a gift for him. And you too, I suppose."
"Right now?" Sam asked, surprised.
"Do you really think the school is going to stay open today after that just now?" I replied, gesturing towards the police car as it sped away. "Odds are the administration is going to be scrambling to figure stuff out and shift blame away from themselves, so they'll let us out early."
Sam nodded slowly, recognizing my point, and we hurried off into the crowd of students as it dispersed. We found Harry waiting for us in the library, years of learning to avoid attention having led Harry to stay away from large groups.
Spotting Harry, I walked up to him, and tossed him a package wrapped up nicely in green and red wrapping paper and ribbons.
"Merry Christmas, Harry," I said with a smile. "I know it's early, but I thought you two might like 'em."
"Wow," Harry breathed out. "I've never gotten a present before!"
I hid my emotions at that, but Sam winced and reached out, jostling Harry's black hair fondly.
"Open it," Sam suggested, and Harry did so, carefully and neatly taking apart the wrapping paper.
His gift was three-fold. First was a nice, warm sweater and a beanie hat. Rather plain looking as both were just a dark blue color with a few orange and red highlights, but I had woven several runes into the items, making them both durable, able to deflect a knife or Stunning spell, and able to grow with Harry. The runes worked by absorbing Harry's own magic to work. The gifts would protect him, hopefully.
The second gift was a pair of black frame eyeglasses. These too were rune-inscribed, the rims of the frame carefully etched with magical sigils that made the glass of the lens nearly unbreakable, weather-proof (like the charm Hermione had used on them, once) and self-correcting.
The third and final gift was actually a couple of things bundled together. They were some bus and train vouchers for travel fare. If he was ever in danger at home, he could use the muggle transit system to get away safely.
"There's something else I had planned, but that can wait until Christmas itself," I told Harry.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Your parents used to live in a place called Godrick's Hollow," I said quietly. "Their graves are there. I thought you might want to go visit them this holiday season."
Harry teared up, unable to say anything, and he immediately hugged me. I froze, taken aback at the affection I was receiving, but after a moment (and a slap upside the head from Sam to shake me out of my silence) I returned the hug.
Sam quietly took the gifts I'd made for him (magical acne cream and a forest green rune-woven sweater of his own) and left the two of us alone for the moment.
It was a sweet moment, and I felt good about what I'd done here today.
"Hey, Harry. Merry Christmas," I called out to the young black-haired boy as he stepped off the bus early in the morning on December 25th.
"Hi, Edward," Harry replied softly. "Merry Christmas."
"Come on, it's not too far," I said, leading Harry down the snowy streets towards Godrick's Hollow. "Did you have any trouble leaving the house?"
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have been rather quiet recently. They didn't say anything against it when I asked to leave. Though I think they just didn't want me around to spoil Dudley's present opening."
"Quiet, eh? Do you think they got scared by the vice-principal's arrest the other day?" I wondered, thinking back to what had happened last week. A lot of the more 'opinionated' parents who'd previously loudly claimed that their babies couldn't possibly be bullies had gone suspiciously silent when news that Mr. Birch had been arrested for a bunch of crimes had spread. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd somehow been accepting bribes from those parents, and they were waiting for the other shoe to drop on them.
"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug.
"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're safe," I said with a smile, giving him a shoulder-hug. He smiled back up at me shyly.
A few minutes later we reached Godrick's Hollow. It was a magical neighborhood, one of many that dotted the edges of London's environs. It had a few Notice-Me-Not charms here and there, and a weak Muggle repelling one that kept non-magicals away unless they had business there, like delivering the mail, milk, or the like. Plus a ward to keep any magical activity invisible to outside eyes.
It was a fairly standard set-up, honestly, and as I led Harry through the minor wards, his eyes lit up as he saw the magical Christmas decorations all over. Floating orbs of lights, glowing snowflakes, and animated snowmen were all visible in the front yards of several homes.
We soon came to a certain building near the center, and stopped to look.
"This was my parent's house?" he whispered as he looked at the exploded ruins of his childhood home.
"Yeah, the Ministry 'preserved' it as a historic monument or something," I replied. "I have no idea how legal that is. When you turn eleven and someone takes you to Diagon Alley for school shopping, be sure to ask the goblins what the status of your properties are."
"Right. Goblins are the ones who run the banks, correct?" Harry asked, recalling one of my lessons.
"Yup. A dumb decision on the Ministry's part, in my opinion. Why give control of your wealth to your enemies?" I said with a shake of my head. "But I suppose the wizards didn't have a lot of choices. This was one of the conditions they had to give up in order to get the goblin nations to sign the Statue of Secrecy."
I then looked down at Harry. "Want to see the graveyard, now?"
He nodded silently, and I led him to where his parents had been buried. He stared up at the monument to his family, and one of his fingers traced the words carved into their tombstone.
"My family," he whispered softly. "Did… do you think they loved me?"
"Yes," I assured him. "You were loved. And you still are. You've got me and Sam. And, someday in the near future, you'll make lots of friends and have tons of fun at Hogwarts. You won't be alone ever again, Harry."
He choked back a sob, but nodded, and continued to stare at the headstones, even as new snow began to fall.
Half an hour later, I shook his shoulder gently. "Hey. It's getting late. Let's get a nice, hot lunch. Maybe some hot chocolate as well?"
Harry bobbed his head slowly. "Okay," he said in a whisper.
Then, as we left Godrick's Hollow, he grabbed my hand and in a quiet voice said, "Thank you, Ed."
I just patted his head fondly.
Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Interlude 1
Chapter Text
Chapter 15: Interlude 1
Harry POV
It was Boxing Day, and Harry Potter was sitting outside in the small playground a few blocks away from Privet Drive. He didn't want to spend any time near the Dursleys today. Or ever, but he knew he had to go back eventually. For now, he was tired, and wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
Harry stared down at his hands, which had a pair of warm mittens on them. They were a gift from Sam, one of only two people he could honestly call 'friends.' And wasn't that a strange thing to think, that two boys five or so years older than him were closer and kinder to him than anyone else in his life.
He couldn't remember a time before the Dursleys, and had always been told that he was worthless. That his parents were worthless. That he should be grateful for the chance to live in a cupboard under the stairs.
No one seemed to care about him. Adults, other children… no one tried to speak up for him, to help him. Either Dudley chased them away, or his aunt and uncle spread lies about him.
Yet that wasn't the case for Edward, or Sam. They saw the bullying, and tried to help. They couldn't do much, but the little they were able to help with, like having breakfast every day or clothes that actually fit him, then they went above and beyond to help him.
But perhaps, Harry's biggest issue he wanted to think over was the revelation that he'd learned on Halloween. About his family. About his magic. About… everything, really.
Even now, two months after the fact, Harry still couldn't believe it, and was afraid he might suddenly wake up and find it was all a dream, and his gifts and changes would be dust in the wind.
But so far, for the first time in years, Harry felt… not happy, but hopeful. He was excited for the future. And it was all thanks to his older friends. His mentors. Especially Edward, who'd been the first to take an interest in him, had helped him in ways Harry wasn't sure he could ever articulate.
There was also the fact Harry felt safe around Edward. The older boy was like an older sibling, in Harry's opinion. Was it because Edward was so much like him that Harry felt safer around him? Harry wasn't an idiot. He saw the same signs in Edward as in himself, that Edward had been abused by his family for his status, for something he couldn't help or control.
Harry took a deep breath, and calmed his mind. Once again, Harry silently thanked Edward for having taught him about Occlumency. It'd come easily to him, to the older boy's surprise. Sam's guess was that spending ten years living with the Dursleys had something to do with it, and Harry agreed. After years of abuse, both physical and verbal, it trained him not to react to provocation, to always keep a calm, neutral mask despite whatever emotions roiled within him.
The Occlumency training had helped a lot with his emotions, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if it might have been harder to learn if he were older and more used to not having to hide his feelings from the Dursleys for half a year.
A flash of annoyance towards Mrs. Figg for never trying to help like Edward had zipped through Harry for a moment, and he forced it down. Mrs. Figg wasn't to blame. Well, not entirely. The more Harry learned about Dumbledore from Edward, the more he found himself skeptical of the old man's supposed benevolence.
If Dumbledore had taken down one Dark Lord before, why hadn't he finished off Voldemort when he appeared? Why had he waited for years, staging ineffective raids and guerilla tactics on an equally mobile force? Why hadn't Dumbledore gone after the Dark Lord's supporters in the open, or just cut their support apart in the Wizengamot? He was still the Chief Warlock back then; he could have done a few emergency measures to push for support for the Aurors! Instead of those sensible things, he'd instead chosen to fund a vigilante group that was barely more effective than the Aurors. In the end, the great enemy of Magical Britain had been defeated by pure chance, not through any actual talent or tactical skills. And wasn't that a scathing assessment of the so-called 'Greatest Wizard Alive's' plans? It took blind luck to take down a madman who, by all accounts, was beaten by a baby.
Harry knew a lot of his perception was being colored by Edward's biases (Occlumency sure was helpful in that regard!) but he found himself agreeing with a lot of the older boy's comments when he thought on them himself.
Why had Harry been left with the Dursleys? Was it to keep him away from fame? To protect him from Death Eaters? Surely it'd be safer in a magical household who could cast defensive spells, right? And if Dumbledore hadn't wanted Harry to be famous, why had he told the whole world that Harry had been the one to defeat Voldemort in the first place? Hell, no one even knew for sure what had happened that night! Everything the magical world knew came from Dumbledore, and the more Harry thought about it, the more suspicious things seemed.
Harry growled in annoyance to himself and leaned back on the bench, letting the cold air take away some of the anger in him. As the anger left him, Harry was left with a soothing sensation in his chest.
Ever since visiting his parent's graves yesterday, things had felt different for the scrawny ten-year-old. Realizing his parents had loved him had been hard to accept. Even if Edward had been so sure of it, Harry had still been uncertain of the truth himself.
Yet kneeling in front of their tombstones, realizing they'd done everything for him, including die to protect him, it was as if he'd felt something warm wrapping around his entire body, all the way from his head to his toes. His scar had hurt for a moment, but then it'd faded, and it no longer itched like it had throughout his life. He wasn't sure why, and he hadn't mentioned it to Edward as he hadn't wanted to worry his friend, yet deep inside of him, Harry instinctively knew it was a good thing, and not harmful at all.
After a bit, Harry stood up and made his way back home. He didn't want to go back, but he knew that it wouldn't be long before he was free. He'd waited ten years. He could wait a few more months.
&&&&&
Dumbledore POV
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. He'd just gotten back from another Wizengamot meeting, and it'd been as tiresome as he'd come to expect. Why did they schedule the last session of the year right after Christmas? Everyone was too stuffed with Christmas feasts to do any actual governing.
He shook his head and shot a glance over at the assortment of odds and ends he'd collected over the years. His office was filled with all sorts of items, magical of course, that did all kinds of esoteric effects, ranging from pointless to useful. One silver bobble shaped like a thermometer measured the amount of ambient magic in a small patch of land ten miles from Stonehenge. Another one that looked like a tangled mess of copper wire and beads calculated the position and movement of Venus.
Yet the object he focused on this time was a spindle-shaped beryl, which spun in place on a small marble disc. It was an incredible item he had discovered in his youth. A Ward Stone Sensor, designed to anchor itself to Blood Wards and detect any fluctuations in the barrier it was attuned to. And the one it was currently connected to was the Blood Wards he'd set up around Number Four, Privet Drive.
Yesterday, the sensor had glowed. He wasn't sure how or why, but somehow, the barriers had become stronger. Strong enough that Privet Drive was acting like it was almost under a Fidelius. Only those who knew that Harry was living there would be able to find him. Otherwise, the house would basically be undetectable. This was good, in Dumbledore's opinion. The fewer people who knew where Harry was, the safer he'd be.
'Still, did Petunia have another child?' he wondered, curious. Mrs. Figg hadn't reported anything like that, but it was possible it simply wasn't obvious yet. That was the only reason he could think of for the Blood Wards growing stronger, since it was connected to the number of blood relatives related to Harry living with the boy.
After a bit more thought, he shrugged and looked away, attention turning to the bane of all men, paperwork. He had school forms to fill out, and he also had to start looking for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He'd seen enough of the damned 'curse' on the position to know that Mrs. Hatburn would be leaving them a week before the end of the school year. And, from how she'd had only a few 'accidents' so far, the curse's 'finale' would be painful and crippling. The fewer cases of bad luck the DADA teacher suffered throughout the time they spent teaching, the worse their fate at the end of the year. Lucky for Mrs. Hatburn, she'd had a nasty slip on some ice last week and broke both legs, so the odds of her dying on the job were lower now.
Thinking about the curse made Dumbledore's mind drift to the one who'd cast the damned thing. Voldemort. Someone who should have been a blessing he could have used to unify the wizarding world had only divided it further.
The Gaunts had been the last surviving descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and though they'd fallen far from grace, they still had many old secrets and of course, a number of unique magical talents, Parseltongue being the least among them. Groomed properly, the half-blood Tom Riddle Jr. could have been a bridge between the magical and muggle worlds, useful in keeping the blood purists and the muggleborn in line. It had been his plan to use Tom Riddle Jr. to oppose Grindelwald's magical purity ideology.
But no, his plans went awry, and young Tom had slipped his grasp. Framing Hagrid for murder he had committed had been unfortunate, but it could have worked to Dumbledore's advantage. But Tom hadn't wanted to mend the fractures Grindelwald's Knights of Walpurgis had made in the global magical communities. Instead, Tom had gone and poured poison into the wounds. Had he managed to take over Magical Britain, Voldemort's next look would have been to the magicals of Europe and beyond, and that wouldn't have done anyone any favors.
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. He'd tried to keep the war as lowkey as possible, preventing as many deaths as he could, but he wasn't omnipotent. Even the Death Stick he wielded had limits. Sure, Tom had been beaten when he went after the Potters, but he hadn't died that night. The sliver of soul in the young Potter's scar confirmed that to him.
The world was changing, and not in a good way. The Americas were a mess, especially Central and South America where the chaos in the muggle world was bleeding into the magical side. And that wasn't even getting into the ridiculousness that'd happened in the MaCUSA! Muggleborn overthrowing the established order and establishing a new government? It was madness!
Europe's magical communities were no better. As Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, he knew far too well how strained relationships were between the various magicals in that region.
Magical Europe could be divided into four factions. The North, aka the Nordic League, which was basically the various Germanic and Slavic speaking countries. They were more Dark leaning, with Durmstrang the main school. They believed in Blood Purity not unlike Magical Britain, and also felt that the old bloodlines should be in charge. Again, not unlike Magical Britain. They'd also driven their native non-human populations out or to the brink of extinction. Where the Nordic League differed from Dumbledore's homeland was the willingness to delve into Dark Arts like sacrificial blood rituals and the raising of the dead. They also hated the muggles, which, to be fair, given what the Communists in Russia had done to their magicals, was completely understandable.
Then there was the more Light leaning France, which even in the magical world was a superpower few individual nations could rival. It led a coalition of the lesser Central and Southern European magical communities with Beauxbatons their central school. The damage they'd suffered at the hands of Grindelwald had turned them away from Blood Purity, and they were much more open and accepting. They'd even begun integrating non-humans into their culture more freely! Giving Wand Rights to Veela and goblins? Insanity! They were as bad as the MaCUSA in that regard! At least Magical France still held that magical lineages were important and to be respected and preserved, unlike the American barbarians!
Thirdly were the Mediterranean States, who had their seat of power in the ancient magical city of Constantinople. And yes, it was still Constantinople among the magicals. Just because some boorish muggles had invaded and renamed it didn't mean wizards and witches would follow along!
Greece, Italy, Egypt and the rest of the ancient centers of civilization in that region of the world had suffered badly over the years. Their power was diminished. Their old authority waned. The last time they'd been relevant on the global stage had been during the Roman Empire! They generally followed the politics of France, favoring openness with their non-humans. But, they did agree with the Nordic League's opinion on muggles. They were to be shunned at best.
Then, last but not least, there were the Isles themselves. Magical Britain and its surroundings. Far too much like the Nordic League with their Blood Purity ideals and dislike of non-humans, but also too similar to France, what with the glut of muggleborn overwhelming the population of magicals and eroding old families' hold on power. Dumbledore despaired. If only he could have struck that delicate balance with Tom! But alas, that was not to be.
And that was just Europe! There were dozens more polities in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. Large swathes of the Middle East were still ruled by the Mongol descended Golden Horde, and the Chinese, once one of the mightiest magical states, had become a joke. The Chinese magical community had suffered like the Russians when the Communists had attempted purges. Unlike the mostly unsuccessful ones in Europe and the Americas, the Communists had butchered thousands of magical folk, many of whom died due to collateral damage, or due to squibs in the Communist regimes pointing fingers towards the magicals. Mostly muggleborn and half-bloods had perished, but too many old families had been lost in the chaos.
Africa was unstable as well. The old tribal systems that had worked for generations were crumbling due to shifts in the muggle geopolitics, and too many of the muggleborn had turned their wands onto their non-magical kin, becoming petty warlords in that battle-ravaged continent.
The ICW was a powder keg holding itself together with spit and prayers, and it was primed to blow at the smallest spark. Would the old magical families and clans throw the first punch, who resented the march of time and the changes the muggleborn were bringing to their long-established order, or would it be the muggles, who seemed to be getting smarter and craftier every year? Why, Dumbledore had even heard rumors they were trying to build machines that could fly to the moon! Ridiculous, yes, but if anyone could succeed in that, it'd be the muggles. Given a century or two.
Dumbledore groaned and shook his head. Now wasn't the time to reminisce. He had work to attend to, and Minerva would scold him again if he tried to make her do his share of the paperwork. Again.
As he began to work through the stack of papers on his desk. Dumbledore's thoughts drifted back to Harry, and the boy's situation. Who should he send to pick the boy up when the time came for his Hogwarts letter to be sent? Minerva? No, the Transfiguration teacher would likely find something wrong with the way the Dursleys were treating him, and try to get him placed with someone else. Perhaps Hagrid would do? He was loyal, and he wouldn't question the boy's situation too much if Dumbledore told him not to.
Harry needed to be with the Dursleys. It was the best way to not only protect the boy, but keep him docile as well.
For the Greater Good, of course.
&&&&&
Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Spell Development
Chapter Text
Chapter 16: Spell Development
"So, what do you think?" I asked eagerly, leaning in to hear Archibald's opinion on my idea.
"It's… ambitious," the squib of House Tarsworth said slowly, giving the item in his hands a close look. It was a jar of Wiggenweld Cream, the Cauldron symbol painted onto the front in green paint.
"And it doesn't break any magical laws. Or muggle ones," I said excitedly. "I checked."
"You believe there is a market for something like this?" he asked. "Medical creams and cosmetics made with magical recipes and ingredients?"
"Semi-magical ingredients at best. And yes, I do," I confirmed.
"What about patents and passing federal inspections?" Archibald inquired.
"Patenting my recipes is fine, it doesn't matter if they go public eventually. It's the manufacturing process that matters. Without that, no one else can turn dittany and tree bark into the miracle goo you in your hands," I explained. "And I can pass inspections easy-peasy."
"And what do you want out of this business venture?" he asked me, looking up.
"Money, obviously," I said, folding my arms. "I want wealth and power if I can't have magic."
"Fair enough," Archibald snorted. "What about schooling? In just a couple months you'll be starting your final year of schooling. But what are your plans for higher education?"
"Oxford," I said with a nod. "It's one of the most prestigious university in England, and using that prestige I can expand my business. I have to start small, sure, but a few rich and influential patrons can make a real difference."
'If my luck holds, I can leverage the knowledge I have about Justin Finch-Fletchly to my advantage, too,' I thought eagerly.
The boy who ended up in Hufflepuff during Harry's First Year had claimed he'd been slated for Eton before his Hogwarts letter came. And Eton was an extremely prestigious public school that'd had famous and powerful alumni, such as eighteen former Prime Ministers and members of the royal family.
Although I couldn't attend Eton, there was a wealth of connections to be made with the Finch-Fletchly name alone. They were well connected, a family of wealthy politicians and trust fund babies. All I had to do was use the fact I knew about Hogwarts, possibly leverage myself as a tutor to Justin over the summers, and there were plenty of ways to expand my influence.
"The main issue I have is that mass producing potions isn't easy, or cheap. You need a lot of people to work for you, and the secrets can't be kept forever, even with magical oaths and bonds," Archibald said, snapping me back to the present.
"I have a solution for that," I assured him. "All I need is help with the legal paperwork and getting a loan, and then I can produce enough semi-magical products to supply my clients."
"Interesting," he mused. "And I take it you won't be telling me these methods of rapid potion making?"
"Sorry, not without a binding contract," I told him. He just nodded, not insulted by my refusal.
"Understandable," Archibald said. He picked up the copy of my business plan I'd printed out for him and gave it another look. "I want to look through this again, but I think I can agree to it, tentatively at least. You just turned seventeen, so legally, you are an adult in the magical world and can start your own business, but it's trickier here in the muggle world."
"I know," I said with a sigh. "There's nothing else for it, though. And, technically, I'm only fifteen in the magical world."
"True, but the magicals don't care about us squibs so if your muggle identity says you are seventeen, they aren't going to look too deeply."
"That seems lazy and easy to abuse," I said with a raised eyebrow.
"Tell me about it," Archibald said with a sigh. "Sometimes I wonder how the wizarding world has lasted this long."
We shared a chuckle at that, and then he examined some of my other products. "Hair growth cream, acne remover, burn salve… I've tested them, and they work as far as I can tell. But besides your Wiggenweld cream, are you sure you can make these in large enough quantity to supply the demand?"
"Absolutely, a lot of the ingredients are normal enough I can buy 'em in bulk from either the wizarding world or the muggle one without raising eyebrows, so that's one issue easily solved," I claimed.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do. I'll look into business licenses and suppliers for ingredients and potion brewing supplies in the muggle side of things, and have some store fronts investigated for you, see if they fit your requirements," Archibald said. "Now, I have to ask, is everything doing okay at school?"
"Yeah, things are great since Mr. Birch got removed," I said with a grin. "Thanks for that, by the way."
"No problem. I was surprised when you called and needed by help with getting a man arrested, but it seems to have worked out fine. He was stealing from the school funds and taking bribes to change grades for some students. A lot of people got in trouble for this," Archibald said with a smirk. "And my office got a lot of work prosecuting him, so thank you for that little Christmas gift."
"I knew he was scum," I said with a nod. "Glad it's taken care of."
"Indeed. You take care now," Archibald said, and I nodded back before leaving.
As I left Archibald's law office, I stretched a bit, enjoying the warm spring sun.
It was Sunday, May 19th, 1991. Just a couple months away from Harry Potter's birthday, and his Hogwarts letter. A lot had changed since Christmas.
On Harry's side of things, his grades had continued to improve. He wasn't going to be a genius, but he was in the top ten of his class consistently. I had plans to have him keep up with his muggle studies even after he went to Hogwarts. He hadn't been happy, but he saw the benefits.
Harry's home life hadn't improved significantly, but from what I could tell, the Dursleys hadn't tried to punish Harry for getting better grades than Dudley recently, and had been rather quiet, hardly spreading any nasty rumors about him. Not that anyone really believe them, as far as I could tell. But it was nice to see them being 'nice.' For a given value of such.
My own grades were in tiptop shape. I remained the best student at school, and the teachers had become docile after I'd gotten the vice-principal kicked out. Sam and I had worked closely together after Christmas as well. He'd been excited to learn about magic, and learning that runes and potions didn't need much magical potential had made him badger me into teaching him. He was actually really good at potions, too. Cooking and potions were pretty similar, being both an art and science. Sam had been a real help in researching ways to reduce the amount of magic needed to make certain potions and other products.
Home life wasn't too bad either. Mom was as loving as always. Rudy was a Third Year, and kept out of my way. He was a Slytherin, which was sad but expected. I was worried he might be making some unpleasant 'friends.' I prayed that he didn't fall in with the Death Eater Juniors that I knew were in Hogwart's Dungeon. I didn't want to make mom cry, after all, and she would if he became a Death Eater and I had to kill him for it. He was young, and could change. Hopefully.
The Weasleys were nice, as usual. Charlie was graduating at the end of this year, and Bill was already working for Gringotts as a Curse Breaker. I'd sent Bill some lore about curses I'd dug up from the Hunch Family tomes as a Christmas gift, which he'd been very enthusiastic about.
Percy was sadly becoming distant from me. My lack of magic meant we'd been drifting apart, but his desire to be part of the Ministry, even as young as he was, meant that he was falling in line with their dogma early.
'At least Charlie, Bill, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny still like me,' I thought to myself. The twins were as fun-loving as usual, and Ron just couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts. He'd already been chatting excitedly about becoming friends with Harry Potter, to the envy of Ginny.
I was suspicious about how deep Dumbledore had sunk his claws into the red heads, because it had been very coincidental that Ron had just so happened to stumble on Harry on the Hogwarts Express. Plus, his claim that the other rooms were empty was bogus. The train was made to hold way more students than currently attended, and magic could expand the sizes of the compartments. No way it'd been full as he'd claimed. Not unless every compartment held only a single child.
I was less suspicious about Mrs. Weasley talking out loud and 'accidentally' helping Harry find his way to Platform 9 and 3/4ths. She really was just that loud and talkative. And she did have a soft spot for trying to help without directly helping, so she'd probably seen the poor boy and how lost he was.
Still, I didn't want to think about my only magical friends becoming twisted by the old man's schemes, so I decided to think about something else. Namely, my work with selling potions to muggles.
For my business side of things, I had taken Sam's advice, and gotten his mother's advice on advertise and other helpful insight into growing my business. She'd had a lot of useful info for me, and I'd judicially applied it. I'd gotten posters and t-shirts printed, and attended craft fairs and markets. My sales had risen, and I was making over a thousand quid every time I went out to sell my products.
To further my potential business prospects, I'd invested in inventing new methods of mass-producing potions. I'd discovered two things. One, that stainless steel worked just as well as brass cauldrons. Second, I could brew potions using magical stirring rods, which took care of the need of a magical person for most of my potions.
I'd made a few stirring rods for that purpose by experimenting with etching runes onto hollow tubes of steel that were filled with cores made of dragon bone and unicorn horn. Both were expensive materials, but even a few inches of dragon bone could provide the magic for a multi-gallon vat, so long as they were spaced out evenly and attuned to the runes.
Not to mention that the runes themselves could even be covered up and thus hidden from anyone not in the know. So long as the runes existed, they could provide the magical spark needed to brew my potions.
And, thanks to my studies with alchemy, I figured out a few materials I could synthesize as the stirring rods cores to replace the dragon bone and unicorn horn. There was one, called Orichalcum, which was a golden metal substance
The most important thing I'd made was a machine that could be programmed to stir one of my Magi-Rods (Trademarked!) in accordance to the recipe. Adding and preparing the materials was a bit trickier and had to be done by actual people, but slicing and grinding ingredients to be added to what were essential giant soup vats was something anyone could do, though squibs would be needed for handling certain ingredients.
My studies with runes and arithmancy had progressed in leaps and bounds alongside my potions and alchemy research. I didn't want to brag, but I was probably at NEWT levels in terms of all four disciplines. They worked synergistically, and meant even I, a squib, could use magic to an extent.
Though my favorite recent discovery was the gift my mother had given me a month ago for my birthday. It was a book on the Japanese talisman art known as Onmyoji. I'd assumed it was like Japanese runes, but it was so much more! Similar disciplines but unique enough with their own twists!
Best of all, I discovered I could use my own blood to power single use Onmyoji talismans. They weren't powerful, but I could cast Stunning spells, Sleep spells, Binding spells, Lighting spells, and more.
As a squib, I couldn't use a wand, but there was still enough magical energy in my blood to power special runes and Onmyoji talismans. This was the key to me developing my own ways for magic. I hadn't found a chance to test my newfound knowledge, but I did carry around a bunch of paper talismans in my wallet for emergencies.
I got onto the bus, and rode it home. There were things I had to prepare. I was excited. Very, very, excited. The future was coming, and I would embrace it with wide open arms.
&&&&&
Chapter 17: Chapter 17: An Owl of a Good Time
Chapter Text
Chapter 17: An Owl of a Good Time
A loud and frantic rapping on my apartment door caused me to look up from my work at the dining table. I had a jeweler's Loup over my right eye, and a metal file and engraving tools in my hands, while a metal ring was being held in a vice as I worked on etching runes into it.
"Inky, who is it?" I asked, and a faint pop answered me.
"It's Young Harry Potter, Young Master Eddy!" the house elf called back.
I frowned, confused. What was he doing here this early on a Wednesday? Sure, it was summer break, but it was an odd time all the same.
"Let him in," I said after a moment, putting my tools down.
The door was opened by magic, and in rushed Harry, breathless and wide-eyed.
"I got it! It was just as you said! I got it!" Harry exclaimed as he waved a piece of paper around.
'No, wait, that's not paper… it's parchment!' I realized, eyes widening.
"Your Hogwarts letter?" I asked, surprised. 'Wait, what day is it today?'
I'd been so focused on runecrafting these last couple of days that I'd lost track of time. Thinking back on it, it was July 31st. Harry Potter's 11th birthday and the day he got his acceptance letter.
"Yes! Yes! It came! It really came, just as you said it would!" Harry said, tears in his eyes.
"I'm so happy for you!" I said, getting up and hugging him. "And happy birthday as well!"
"Thank you," he said happily, wiping the tears from his face after I let him go. As I did, I glanced over him, glad to see the changes almost a year of steady food and potions had done for him. He was still a scrawny kid, but no longer undernourished and pale. He had muscle to him. Not much, but enough. And he was taller, too, by a few inches.
"Have you read it, yet?" I asked, turning my attention away from his healthy body.
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I didn't want my aunt and uncle to find out, especially after the, uh, incident at the zoo the other day, so I waited outside all morning for the owl to come. And it did! Flew down and dropped the letter on my head! I ran to the bus stop immediately afterwards and came here!"
"I'm honored," I said with a smile. "Come on, open it!"
He did, and we read it together. It was the same letter as Rudy had gotten, and that Harry himself had received in the books.
"So, how do we reply?" he asked.
"I don't have an owl, but Inky could always deliver it, I suppose," I mused. Then, an idea hit me. "Or, we could do something else. Something… sneaky."
"Like what?" he asked, curious.
"Follow me and find out," I said, a grin stretching across my face. I grabbed my shoes, wallet, a magic ring (one I wasn't working on) and my bag of rune bones, then made sure I got some directions to where I wanted to go by flipping through the London equivalent of the Yellow Pages.
We then left my apartment and hopped onto the bus, traveling into London. I had a special destination in mind, and I hoped Harry would like the surprise. He was bewildered, but trusted me, and followed along.
We got off the bus, and after some walking, soon came to a building that was in the newer, urban side of London where many new businesses had risen. There, we found what I was looking for; a seemingly ordinary dentist's office. One I'd been too a couple times in the past for yearly check-ups.
Harry and I went inside, the door chiming as a puff of cool air hit us. There were a couple people sitting in the lobby, waiting and reading magazines.
"Hello," I said to the receptionist within. "I'd like to speak with Doctor Granger. Either of them."
One of the people sitting in the lobby, a girl with curly brown hair, perked up at the name I'd uttered.
"Are you trying to make an appointment?" the secretary asked, confused. I just shook my head.
"Nope, not this time. Or, well, actually, yes, maybe, I don't know when the last time my friend here had his teeth checked. But for the moment, I wanted to discuss something with them. About the school their daughter is going to be attending?"
The secretary's brow raised, while the brunette leaned in curiously to listen in better. After a moment of staring at me, the secretary got up and went into the back. She then returned a minute later with a woman with black hair. She was wearing a doctor's scrubs, and looked at me curiously.
"Edward Rose, right?" she asked, leading me and Harry off to the side to converse. "You're one of my husband's patients."
"Yes. I am. And I'm here to talk to you about an important matter. Your daughter can listen in, too, if she likes," I said, turning to the girl in the waiting room and smiling at her. She let out an adorable "Eep!" and tried to look like she hadn't been eavesdropping.
The dark-haired woman frowned, but nodded, beckoning the girl forward. All the while, Harry watched on in bewilderment.
We were led into an unused room, which Harry looked around at in wonder, clearly never having seen the inside of one before. I made a mental note to rectify this matter ASAP. For now, though, it was time to talk.
"Hello, Doctor Granger," I said, giving a polite nod of my head to her. "It's a pleasure to see you, again. Sorry that it's not for teeth related business right now."
"What is it, then?" she asked, crossing her arms impatiently.
"This is Harry Potter," I said, introducing the boy beside me. "And he is also going to Hogwarts this year, alongside your daughter."
Both Grangers, young and old alike, jerked in surprise, shooting me curious and suspicious looks.
"How do you know that?" Dr. Granger demanded.
"I have contacts in the magical world, even if I do not live there myself," I told her, lying smoothly. "And Harry here is a friend of mine who lives with non-magical relatives. So your situations are similar. He only found out about magic recently as well."
"Are you a wizard?" Hermione asked eagerly, unable to contain her curiosity any more.
"I am not. I am what is known as a Squib. Non-magical person born to magical parents," I explained. "I can't use a wand, but I can use some magic and magical items."
I turned back to Doctor Granger. "I was hoping you could help out with Harry, since he'll also be going in the same year as your daughter."
"I suppose we could do that. And we have arranged to meet with one of the teachers this Saturday," she revealed after a moment. "We were going to be given a tour of Diagon Alley, and get our school supplies."
"Wonderful! You can take Harry with you," I said happily. "I'd also be happy to show you around as well."
"Why did you come to find us?" Dr. Granger inquired.
"I live with one foot in the magical world, and I can understand the confusion you might be going through right now," I said. "However, the main reason I came to you, is because Harry needs a friend. One who is his own age, and will be attending the same school. I can only do so much for him."
"How sure are you my daughter and him will be able to become friends?" Dr. Granger asked, while Hermione and Harry shared bashful looks with each other, embarrassed to hear themselves being talked about.
"Besides the fact that I know Harry here would love to? Well, let's ask Fate what she thinks, alright?" I asked slyly, taking out the velvet bag where I stored my rune bones and walked over to the nearby counter with all eyes on me.
"Will Harry Potter and Hermione Granger become friends?" I asked aloud as I shook some of the bones out onto the countertop. Four of them clattered out, and they danced and spun for a moment before falling still.
"Well, that's the most blatant answer I've seen so far," I muttered, staring at the rune bones and what they said. The symbols for friendship, strength, and longevity stared up at me, along with the symbol for certainty. It couldn't have been more obvious if they'd spelled out the words 'YES' in front of me.
"What was that?" Hermione asked excitedly, rushing over to look at the carved bones. "Are those dice? What did you do?"
"I was attempting to divine the future," I explained. "Those dice as carved with runes that are supposed to resonate with my magic and reveal a glimpse of the future. Never gotten a fortune so clear and obvious before, though."
"Fortune telling is real?" Dr. Granger asked, surprised.
"In some cases, yes. Most people you meet who claim to know the future are going to be hacks," I informed her. "Even for magicals, it's a rare gift. One I've spent years cultivating."
"I see," the dentist murmured, clearly still skeptical, but willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. "Hermione, do you want to take Harry and go talk somewhere quiet? Mr. Rose and I need to discuss a few things."
"Okay, mom," Hermione said with a nod. She then grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him off, the poor boy blushing at the contact.
That left me alone with the good doctor, and I smiled. "Cute kid," I said.
"Yes, she is smart and adorable all rolled into one package," Dr. Granger said proudly. She then shot me a frown. "What's the real reason you came here?"
"I told the truth," I said. "I wanted Harry to make a friend. He needs them. And so does your daughter, if I'm seeing things correctly."
"There's more to it than that, though," she said, narrowing her eyes at me. I simply nodded.
"Yes. It can wait, though. Harry – and now Hermione – are more important. And there are things you need to know about the magical world that you likely haven't been told."
"The teacher who showed up to speak with us gave us a brief overview," she replied. "We spoke for an hour about Hogwarts and the magical world."
"An hour wouldn't be enough time at all to cover the stuff you needed to know," I said firmly. "Let me elaborate on some things that were likely glossed over."
I didn't have much time to do so, only half an hour before her next patient, but I made sure to stress how divided and backwards the magical world would be. I didn't sugarcoat it, and did what I could to prepare her for the culture shock.
"I think this conversation would be best finished over dinner," she said when our time was up, the doctor's head clearly spinning from information overload.
"Harry and I have nothing else to do today," I claimed.
"My husband and I get off at four this afternoon," she said, scribbling an address onto a notepad which she then handed to me. "Meet us at five?"
"Can do. That lets me do some stuff with Harry before then," I said with a nod.
I bid the dentist farewell and left the room, rescued Harry from Hermione, and made an appointment for Harry to have his teeth examined before school started.
"So, what did you think?" I asked Harry as we left.
"She was very… forceful," Harry replied, looking like he'd just escaped a hurricane.
"But was she nice?"
"Yes," he admitted after a moment.
"Great! Now, we're going to Diagon Alley for some shopping," I said. "I wasn't planning on it originally, but I think it's best if we grab some supplies before your 'official' trip there. Not much, just a couple things you are going to need. And after a nice dinner out somewhere, I'll take you back to the Dursleys. I need to have a 'chat' with them, anyways."
Harry swallowed nervously at how ominous I'd made that sound, but nodded in agreement.
Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Down the Alley (Part 1)
Chapter Text
Chapter 18: Down the Alley (Part 1)
We traveled by bus to the street where the Leaky Cauldron was hidden, one of the three major entrances in the muggle world to the hidden magical world within London. Before entering, however, I took Harry to a convenience store and bought him a baseball cap to hide his highly recognizable hair and scar. Then, feeling he was as ready as he'd ever be, I led him into the pub.
Despite the dim lighting and dingy atmosphere, the Leaky Cauldron was actually a very clean and professional place. Spells like Scourgify certainly helped with the cleanliness. In addition to the bar and dining area, it had three large fireplaces designed for floo travel in one corner, and a staircase that led to three floors full of rooms to rent. Again, thanks to magic, you'd never know those extra floors were there, looking in from the outside.
I let Harry soak in the atmosphere for a bit, and glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. We were dressed as muggles, so we got a few looks, but were quickly ignored. Most of the people in the pub were having a late breakfast, early lunch, or some brunch, and were wearing robes.
Once I felt Harry had seen enough of the pub, I led him to the doorway that led to the Alley proper.
"Now, normally you need a wand to enter Diagon Alley, but there are work arounds for that," I said, tapping the ring I was wearing against the bricks in the proper configuration. Runic symbols covered the ring, and its magic allowed me to mimic what usually required a wand to do.
As for what the ring itself did, it granted a passive cleanliness bonus to me, making it harder for dirt to stick to my skin, hair, or clothing. Something like a glob of mud could still overwhelm the aura of cleanliness, but it was easier to get the stains out.
"This is Diagon Alley, one of four magical 'streets' that encompasses the largest population center of Magical Britain," I explained as we stepped through the sliding wall of bricks. "There's Horizont Alley, which is connected to the Ministry of Magic, Vertical Alley, which is connected to St. Mungos Hospital, the main medical and health center for Magical Britain, and last and certainly least, Knockturn Alley, which has turned into a haven for the inevitable criminal underbelly. These four streets intersect each other in a square shape, with all but the latter street having a direct access route to the non-magical side."
"Whoa!" Harry whispered in awe.
"Yeah, it's pretty great. Diagon Alley has the most shops and businesses out of any of the four streets, the legal ones at least. Horizont Alley has mostly apartments and townhouses where the members of the Ministry and shop owners live, and Vertical Alley is a bit more upper class, with better shops, restaurants and such. It's also where a few parks can be found, alongside a small public library and a daycare center for magical children too young to attend Hogwarts whose parents work during the day," I said, letting him know about the streets. "Don't go down Knockturn Alley. Like I said, it's full of crime. Not everyone who lives there is bad, of course, but you're ten times more likely to be mugged down there than anywhere else in here."
I then clapped my hands to get Harry's attention. "First stop! The bank," I said with much less enthusiasm than I was faking.
"Why the bank?" he asked.
"You didn't think your parents left you nothing, did they?" I responded. "The Potters weren't super wealthy, but they definitely were in the top percentile. Plus, they're old money, so even if they had no liquid assets, they'd still have a ton of magical artifacts and whatnot you could use. We're going to get the goblins to make you a key to register you to your vault, prove who you are, etc."
I then led the overwhelmed boy through the streets to the Gringotts building, which was as big and imposing as ever. I'd only been there once before in this life, but it looked almost identical to the version from the movies.
Inside the marble-floored atrium, we got in line to speak with a teller. It took a few minutes, but since it was still early the line moved quicker than I expected.
"Morning," I said politely to the goblin, who sneered down at me from his podium.
"How may Gringotts help you today?" he asked, his voice slippery and oozing with false sincerity.
"I'd like to speak to an account manager about getting a Vault Key, as well as verifying the status of a few other matters for the boy with me," I replied calmly, not letting my emotions show.
Fun fact! Humans are one of the few animals in nature where smiling is considered a sign of friendship. Goblins did not smile when happy. They sneered so much because it was the only way they knew how to replicate the concept of 'smiling' their human clients desired.
By keeping my expression blank, I was doing my best to respect the goblin before me. After all, they still considering frowning to be offensive. And as much as I found goblins weird and distasteful, that was no reason to be rude. Especially not when trying to do business with them.
"Do you have proof of identification?" the goblin asked, still leering.
"{I invoke the Right of Sanctuary on the grounds of denying my enemies and his the satisfaction of controlling our fortunes,}" I responded, while also placing a silver sickle coin in front of him. However, I did so in Gobbledygook, the guttural goblin tongue. My accent was atrocious, but I managed to say what I wanted clearly, and it was enough to shock the smirk right off his face.
I watched, amused, as his eyes widened and his long ears and pointy nose twitched erratically, the surest signs of surprise a goblin could give, short of vocally gasping.
"I see," the goblin teller said slowly, clearly intrigued. He rang a bell, and another goblin ran up beside up.
"Take these two to see Mudclaw," the teller ordered, and the runner, a younger goblin, likely an intern, nodded and beckoned for us to follow.
"What language was that?" Harry asked as we walked down marbled halls.
"Gobbledygook, the goblin's native language," I replied. "It's a complex language and I'm pretty sure I butchered it, but nothing says 'respect' like speaking to someone in their mother tongue. Plus, very few wizards bother to speak it, so it's a great way to keep secrets from 'em."
"Huh. Neat," Harry said, nodding along. "I can speak to snakes. Does that mean snakes are people, too?"
The goblin in front of us tripped and stumbled a bit at that, no doubt surprised as I was by Harry's claim.
"It's a talent known as Parseltongue, and no, snakes aren't actually secretly intelligent. It's just the language itself is magical and bestows a minute amount of awareness to the snake in question so it actually can answer and obey you," I replied, keeping my expression calm. "Some say Parseltongue was invented by a race of magical snake-people, the Naga, but since they're extinct and have been for over a thousand years, I suppose no one knows for sure."
I tilted my head to the side. "How did you find out about your snake-talking ability, anyway?"
"Oh, recently I went to the zoo for Dudley's birthday. There was a big snake in the reptile house and I was able to communicate with it. And, err, I accidentally freed it with some accidental magic," Harry admitted with a blush.
"Huh. Neat," I muttered. So that hadn't changed from canon, then. "Might want to keep it on the downlow, though. Wizards in England – and Europe in general – see it as a Dark ability."
"Why?" Harry asked, confused.
"Because Moldyshorts was a Parseltongue, and so was Salazar Slytherin, and a really nasty dude named Herpo the Foul. They kinda ruined it for everyone by being evil."
Ahead, the goblin snorted in amusement at that.
"Of course, there are places where being a Parseltongue is considered a good thing," I continued, making sure Harry didn't feel bad about his gift. "In India, they revere snakes as divine entities and bringers of rain and fortune. Same in some places of Africa and the Americas as well. Those who can speak to them are treated highly, and well respected outside of the so-called 'Western World.'"
"So, it's not a bad thing?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Absolutely not!" I said firmly. "Never think that any part of you is bad or evil or wrong, Harry. People here in Magical Britain have heavy prejudices towards that which they see as 'Dark' due to their history, both recent and ancient. For now, having people know you can do something 'Dark' would be bad. They can be as fickle and quick to shun as they are to praise. They're basically sheep with superpowers."
Again, the goblin runner escorting us choked out a laugh before stopping in front of a door.
"We're here," he said simply, and I flipped him a silver sickle as a tip. Goblin society revolved heavily around tips. You were expected to do it for practically everything.
He bobbed his head at me, surprised by my gesture, then wandered off to do something else. I led Harry into the room without knocking. Another cultural difference. You didn't knock on doors and wait to be let in, you just went in, especially if you were already expected.
"I am Mudclaw, Senior Account Manager for Gringotts," the goblin at the desk in the office we entered said crisply. "You wish to register a Vault Key?"
"For my friend," I said, gesturing to Harry as we sat down in a pair of comfy chairs.
"And your friend is?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Take off your hat," I told Harry, and he did so, revealing his messy black hair and scar to the world. Mudclaw hissed in shock, ears and nose twitching madly.
"I know Harry is too young to have access to his family's vault, but I believe his parents set up a Trust Vault for his schooling and such," I said, speaking as if I hadn't shocked the goblin out of his wits. "Unfortunately, we don't trust his current guardians, magical or otherwise, to do the right thing. As such, I want the Rite of Sanctuary to be invoked, so both of us are protected."
"You even know about the Rite," Mudclaw whispered in surprise, schooling his expression as he did so. "Who are you?"
"Just a Squib with too much time on his hands and plenty of old books to read," I replied with a smirk. And having a red-headed friend who worked as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts didn't hurt, either. "And, above all that, Harry Potter's friend."
Harry nodded in agreement at that, and Mudclaw glanced between us before sighing.
"Very well. Let us begin with getting the boy a key for his Trust Vault."
This process involved a bit of blood from Harry – partly to ensure he was, in fact, Harry Potter, and partly to infuse his magical signature into the key itself, which was a study, solid iron mass.
It was heavy, and yet Harry was able to hold it easily. Some documents also needed signing – also from Harry, and in blood as well.
Then, once that was done, Mudclaw provided a statement on the status of Harry's Trust Vault.
"You won't be able to access the main Potter Family Vault until you turn seventeen," Mudclaw informed Harry. "However, your Trust Vault is connected to it, and is filled with one thousand galleons a year on your birthday. You currently have fifteen thousand galleons in the vault, which is ten years plus the initial five thousand your parents put in when you were born."
I held back the urge to whistle. That was seventy-five thousand pounds in muggle money! And fifteen thousand galleons was nothing to sneeze at, either. Most of the lower and entry-level ministry workers only made five thousand galleons a year, and even upper-ranked managers might only earn ten to twelve thousand a year, assuming they didn't take any bribes. Prices were a lot cheaper in the magical side of things compared to the muggle one, however, which was great for some things, like my budding potion business.
Harry just nodded, stunned to have any amount of money to call his own. Mudclaw then gave a short overview of the status of the Potter family finances, simply informing Harry that Lily Potter, his mother, had invested well after marrying James Potter. She'd been more financially savvy than her husband, which made sense based on what I knew of the two.
"Now, since I invoked the Rite of Sanctuary to do this, none of his 'guardians' will know he has access to his Trust Vault?" I queried as the meeting came to an end.
"Naturally," Mudclaw scoffed, as if offended I'd even asked.
"{Good,}" I hissed out in Gobbledygook, placing a fat, golden galleon on his desk. "It's been a pleasure to work with you. May we ask for your services again in the future?"
"I will have to consult with the Potter Account Manager, but I see no reason why we cannot do further business," Mudclaw said gravely, and I nodded at that.
"Then I wish you a good day," I said. "{May gold and glory grace your clan.}"
"What's the Rite of Sanctuary?" Harry asked me as we left the office, quickly fastening his hat back over his head.
"It's a Rite to protect children like yourself," I replied. "If I had reason to believe someone would abuse their relationship with you to get at your money, I could invoke it. It can only be invoked once a year per person, but for the next eleven months, no one will be able to touch your vault or even ask about it, except for you. You'll need to invoke the Rite again next year yourself to keep anyone from using your money or your parents'. This can be done until you turn seventeen, which is the age of adulthood in the magical world and would mean you can take control of all of your family's assets."
"And that's it? Anyone can claim this Rite to protect their money?"
"Hardly. Like I said, only children, or the vaults of children, are eligible. And by invoking it, I am putting myself under a magical oath. I claimed that, if your family or legal guardians knew of your wealth, they'd steal it using whatever means they could. If I was lying, the oath and the Rite would trigger, and I'd basically forfeit my own wealth," I replied. "I have a small amount of money in a vault here, so that's the collateral being used for the Rite."
I then gave Harry a stern look. "Besides, can you honestly say that the Dursley's wouldn't try and get you to cough up an unreasonable amount of money as 'payment' for raising you?"
Harry looked down, unable to say anything against my statement.
"And that is why I was confident that invoking the Rite wouldn't be problem," I said dryly. "Anyways, now that we have your key, we can use that as a sort of debit card, or check, or IOU, or whatever you want to call it, to pay for things in the Alley."
At that, Harry perked up excitedly.
"Come on, I've got plenty of places to show to you," I said with a grin. "Now, we won't buy any of your school supplies while we're here, we'll leave that for this Friday with the Grangers. But I think we can grab a few things."
We browsed the stores, enjoying the atmosphere. There weren't many people out and about at the moment, so Harry and I got to see all sorts of things without worrying about getting in other people's way.
The Quidditch shop natural caught his eye, and the toy stores dazzled him. I couldn't help but laugh as he gawked at the candy store, or when his eyes bugged out when he saw a poster advertising the latest 'Adventures of Harry Potter' children's book.
Our first stop was the potion supply shop. I'd been teaching Harry how to brew for a few months now, and was feeling confident in his skills. I discreetly made sure to point out certain things, like what bezoars were and where they came from, what wormwood was and what it was good for, and how monkshood and wolfsbane were technically the same thing, just with different names. I also grabbed some ingredients so we could practice together later in the week.
Next, we went to the luggage store to grab an enchanted rucksack to put our stuff in. It could hold five times its apparent volume and was quite sturdy, as well as dirt resistant and waterproof. It didn't preserve what you put inside it, though, or reduce the weight. That was a set of much more expensive enchantments. Still, I knew a few Featherweight runes I could slap onto it without compromising the integrity of the expansion charm, so that wasn't too much of an issue. Harry also got an enchanted trunk, similar to what Moody had, but smaller and with only two compartments. It looked like an old-fashioned steamer trunk, and had wheels for extra mobility.
The third store we made purchases in was the candy shop, obviously. Harry bought a bunch of treats and snacks. Some to share with Sam, others to try himself. And with the magical rucksack, Harry could hide them from his glutton of a cousin and actually have some food outside of meals for once.
Last but not least, the pet shop was where we were going to make our final set of purchases. As we stepped in, the musty mix of animal scents greeted us.
"What are we doing in here?" Harry asked, curious.
"I need to pick up a toad or two," I said, looking down at their selection of amphibians.
"Toads are one of the three acceptable pets you can take to Hogwarts," I began to explain when I saw Harry's confused face. "Do you know why?"
"No, why?" Harry asked.
"Because toads, owls, and cats are all magical. Or, at least, have the potential for it," I replied. "Toads are useful for potion makers like myself because you can test your concoctions on them without worry, thank to their unique properties. Anything you do to a toad with a potion, as long as it doesn't kill them outright, will be reversed over time. Draught of Living Death? They'll wake up from it in a couple days. Wart remover? Their bumps will just grow back in a couple hours. Turn one of them blue with pink polka dots or into wood by accident? Don't panic, it'll be back to its original form soon."
"Whoa, that seems really useful," Harry said in surprise.
"Toad-ally," I said. Harry groaned at the terrible pun and I just laughed.
"Next on the list there are owls. Smart and majestic, they also make for brilliant messengers, able to find anybody even if they've never met them before in order to deliver mail and packages. Pretty much every magical household has at least one," I went on. "As for cats, they're unique in that they are able to sense when magic is being used. You can turn into someone else with Polyjuice or cover yourself up with a disillusionment charm, but a cat will always see through them and recognize you. And they can become as smart as owls if they have some kneazel blood in them."
"Huh, that's neat!" Harry said, looking around at the pets in a new light.
"And now that I've picked out my new toad, it's time for me to get you something," I said, selecting a plump green toad with yellow-brown bumps on his back.
"Wait, what?" Harry asked, surprised. "You don't have to do that!"
"I really do," I replied firmly, looking around the store. I soon spotted what – or rather, who – I was looking for.
A gorgeous snowy owl was sitting on a stand, watching me and Harry closely. It was bigger than I thought it would be, but I knew it – no, she – was the one. I approached her, admiring her for a moment.
"Hey there, pretty lady," I said in greeting. "I saw you taking a peek at me and my friend."
The owl let out a "Prek!" in response.
"Lovely! Would you like to be his friend?" I asked, gesturing to Harry, who was standing rooted to the floor. One of the witches manning the counter was watching the interaction with interest, and she gasped in awe when the owl flew off her perch over to Harry's shoulder, where she sat down, claiming it as her own spot.
"I think she likes you," I said, teasing Harry. He blushed red, but hesitantly reached out to stroke the owl's chest feathers. She let him, and the witch smiled widely.
"I've never seen her act so docile around someone before!" she gushed. "Your little brother must have a way with animals!"
"He really does," I said proudly, not bothering to correct her. "I'll take the toad, and he'll take the pretty lady. Do you have a cage and some care supplies for both of them?"
Ten minutes later we left the store, me with little Duncan in his glass container, Harry with Hedwig in her birdcage, and some owl care products in his rucksack.
Harry had named her on the spot in a sort of trance, still unable to get over how amazing the bird was, or that I'd gotten her as a gift for him.
"Thank you, Edward," Harry said as we walked towards the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.
"No problem, Harry, it's your birthday, after all," I said fondly in response.
We spent the rest of the day out having fun in the muggle side. It was a bit awkward to walk around with a caged owl and toad, but we only got a few weird looks as we traveled through London. I took Harry to Harrods for some new clothes, and then we ate a bunch of popcorn at the movies. And then it was off to the Grangers for dinner.
Sadly, all good things come to an end, and we took the bus back to Privet Drive after a lovely evening with the dentists and their daughter, Harry growing quieter as we got closer to his 'home.'
We got off and walked up to his house, where I knocked on the door. It opened, revealing Mrs. Petunia Dursley's horsey face. She glared down at Harry, not noticing me at all.
"Where have you been?!" she nearly shrieked, only the thought of her neighbors noticing keeping her voice down to reasonable levels. "You think you can skip out on your chores whenever you want?"
As Harry shrunk in under her verbal assault, I stepped forward.
"Hello, ma'am," I said with as much false politeness as I could muster. "I was just bringing Harry back from shopping. In Diagon Alley. After he got his letter from Hogwarts."
Petunia Dursley paled immediately and choked a bit as her words she'd been about to shout at me got stuck in her throat.
"Wh-what?" she uttered.
I grinned, and then flashed her a stick I'd picked up from one of the lawns. She went even paler somehow at the sight of it.
"Harry, why don't you go in and get yourself settled," I suggested. "I believe there is a spare bedroom up on the second floor you can use? It only has some useless garbage in there that can be moved out."
He stared at me, and I just nodded, gesturing for him to go inside the house.
"Who are- You can't do that!" she spluttered as Harry slowly went upstairs.
"Mrs. Dursley, are you an idiot?" I asked sharply, all niceness in my tone vanishing, replaced with blunt, cold words. "Did you really think we wouldn't find out about how you are treating Harry Potter? Your own flesh and blood?"
"I-I don't…"
"How dare you make a child live under the stairs all these years?!" I seethed furiously, cutting her off with a swish of my fake wand, causing her to flinch. "Ordering him around, barely feeding him… you do realize these are all crimes, correct? Even in the non-magical world! I could have you and your whale of a husband arrested right now by the police for child endangerment! Hell, I could probably argue for two cases of that, given how morbidly obese your son is!"
I took a menacing step forward, and she took a terrified step back. "Listen to me closely, you horse-faced bint! Things are going to change around here. Harry will not be sleeping under the stairs. He will have a real bed in a real room. He will not be wearing that pig's hand-me-downs, but actual, fitting clothes! He will receive full meals, the same as your two lard-asses. He can still do chores, but you cannot force him to do everything, nor can you expect him to work to the point of exhaustion! And If I catch even a hint of you, your son, or your husband physically hurting him? I will have you clapped in irons faster than you can say, 'Scotland Yard!' Am I understood?"
"Y-yes, sir!" Petunia stammered tearfully.
"Good," I snarled. "I am being extraordinarily lenient towards you. And that is only because Harry Potter is safe inside these walls due to a powerful spell keeping him – and you – safe from those who murdered his mother and father. If it were up to me, I'd convict you to the fullest extent of both worlds' laws!"
"Now, Harry has received his owl from Hogwarts. He will be going to school there come September. You now only have to see him over the summer, and even then, for only two or three weeks at the least, in order to keep the wards stable. Can you do that? Can you accept these changes, or do I have to get magical?" I demanded, forcing my Occlumency to the fore to cool down. When Petunia nodded wordlessly, I shot her a grim smile.
"Wonderful! I have to go now, but I will be picking up Harry again early this Saturday around eight am or so. He has a meeting with a professor from Hogwarts so he can get his school supplies. Don't worry, you don't have to pay for them. The money situation is being handled." I then gave her a mocking bow. "Have a pleasant evening, ma'am. And don't forget to tell your husband and son about what I said."
With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving the shrew to her mental breakdown. I had been absolutely serious when I told her I was going to have her suffer if she dared to backslide and try to abuse Harry in anyway. Screw Dumbledore's plan, I was going to wreck them if they stepped out of line!
As I walked back to the bus stop, I passed by Mrs. Figg's house, and saw her staring out her window at me in shock. I merely gave her a grin and a jaunty wave, tossing my 'wand' into her yard, before strolling away, whistling the Harry Potter theme song.
Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Down the Alley (Part 2)
Chapter Text
Chapter 19: Down the Alley (Part 2)
Saturday morning dawned nice and bright, a perfect day to go out and stroll through a magical wonderland. I sighed into my coffee, drained it dry in a single gulp, and got ready to go pick up Harry.
I put on two rings, including the one I'd been working on when Harry showed up. It was one of my more ambitious rune projects. The ring itself was a complicated piece of work as well, and not just the rune sequence I'd spent months studying. It was actually two pieces of metal careful put together that I could twist, so that the runes on both sides would align, creating a powerful runic sequence that would temporarily give me enhanced perception and reaction time. Basically, I made a ring that let me do bullet time.
It put a large strain on the body, though, so I could only use it for ten real world seconds at a time, though it felt like it was closer to a minute based on my altered perception.
This whole study was part of my desire to figure out a way to manipulate time itself with runes. As much as I wanted a Time Turner, I didn't have the desire to deal with temporal paradoxes and time loops, which were basically built into the Time Turner itself. You couldn't go back more than a day, and you couldn't change the past at all. Essentially, once used you were created a stable time loop that refused to decay no matter what you did. Very clever, but useless for me since I'd have to constantly keep track of all my loops to avoid going mad.
My ultimate goal was to create a Hyperbolic Time Chamber, similar to one used in Dragon Ball, but I was very, very far off from it.
"Inky, keep watch over the house, the potions, and Duncan, please," I requested as I put on my shoes. "And don't forget to tell my mother I'll be stopping by tomorrow to visit her and the Weasleys."
"Yes, Young Master Eddy!" Inky said cheerfully, sounding rather spry for such an old elf.
I left the apartment and caught the bus to Privet Drive, where I picked up Harry without a fuss. He was waiting for me on the doorstep, and for a moment I was worried his aunt or uncle had kicked him out or something, but no, he was just excited to go shopping again and meet other soon-to-be students.
"Easy there, Harry," I said with a laugh as I watched him vibrate in place on the bus bench. "You won't miss 'em, we'll be there in time."
"But… other kids!" he said eagerly. "I can actually have friends my own age!"
"And you will, just don't go bananas," I told him. "And act like yourself. You know, like the goofy boy who hates math that I know."
"I don't hate it, I just find it hard," Harry pouted, which was adorable, and I told him so. He just blushed and refused to look at me for the rest of the trip.
"So, how's Hedwig?" I asked as we got off and headed to the Leaky Cauldron.
"She's great! Not very happy about being in her cage all the time, though," Harry said. "I let her out at night so she can hunt!"
"That's a good idea. Let her stretch her wings a bit," I nodded. "And speaking of stretching, how's your new room?"
Harry shuffled his feet a bit. "I don't know what to do with all the space," he admitted. "But I like the window. It's nice to just look outside whenever I want."
I nodded calmly, but clenched my hands into fists. A moment later, I blinked and left my anger behind as I noticed Harry wasn't wearing his hat.
"Um, should I have?" he asked nervously when I pointed it out.
"No, no. You'll just get to experience what it's like to be famous sooner than I thought you would," I replied with an amused grin. He frowned at that, but then perked up when he saw a familiar head of bushy brown hair.
"Hermione! Hi!" he said, hurrying over to her, where she and her mother were standing in front of the disguised pub.
"Harry!" she squealed excitedly. "It's so good to see you!" she gave him a hug, and I shared a smile with Mrs. Granger.
"Morning, Doctor Granger," I said politely in greeting. "And hello again, Hermione."
"Hello, sir!" she said, giving me a polite nod, her response a bit distant compare to Harry's greeting. I didn't mind at all, since she didn't me all that well. I was closer to an adult than a kid in her mind.
"Hello, Mr. Rose," Dr. Granger said. "We're trying to find the Leaky Cauldron. The teacher's directions said to meet here, but…"
"Ah, yes, I see the problem," I said, chuckling to myself. "You can't see it due to some spells protecting the area. Only Harry, Hermione, and I, can see it. Just hold your daughter's hand and you should be fine, though."
She blinked in surprise when, after taking my advice and held Hermione's hand, the dingy looking building seemed to materialize out of nowhere between the two stores to the side of it.
"Oh. Oh my," she murmured.
Hermione shot her mother a smug smile, a soft "I told you so!" escaping her.
"Come on in," I said, opening the door for them like a gentleman. They entered, and found the interior to be slightly more crowded than it'd been yesterday. And with more children, too.
There were three other First Years with their parents, waiting for the Hogwarts teacher.
Dean Thomas, a dark-skinned Half-blood whose father had been murdered before he was born for refusing to join the Death Eaters. As such, to all intents and purposes, he was Muggleborn, having no real interaction with magic until now. He stood beside his mother, both of them looking around nervously, unsettled by their surroundings, and trying to keep a pair of little girls in line. Since one of them shared Dean and his mother's complexion, it was clear she was related. A sister, perhaps?
Then there was Justin Finch-Fletchley, a rich Muggleborn kid with well-connected parents who'd ended up in Hufflepuff in canon. I recognized him by his and his mother's fancy clothing.
And lastly, a red-haired girl I didn't recognize immediately, and quickly assumed she was one of the unnamed First Years who never really got mentioned in the book. She had both her parents with her, and a younger brother and sister, the latter of which was playing with Dean's sibling. Her parents were chatting with Justin's mother, leaving Hermione and Harry to immediately attract attention from the other kids.
"Morning," I said in greeting, to the other adults and to the pub in general.
"Morning," several of the people inside the Leaky Cauldron replied.
"I'm Edward, and this little rascal's guardian for the day," I said, mussing up Harry's hair, though it didn't do that much to his already wild mane.
"Hi," Harry said, echoed by Hermione a moment later.
Introductions were given, and the kids all drifted off to speak with each other while the parents conversed.
I was drawn into the adult side of the conversation, and exchanged small talk with the others, while also taking the chance to pass out business cards with my company's name and info on it. It was very nice card stock with the glossy Omega cauldron symbol emblazoned boldly in the center, the name 'Cauldron Cosmetics' beneath it in neat black lettering.
"…and it was such a relief when that professor came to explain why our son was always causing things to float around," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said.
"My daughter kept teleporting books over to her, or would teleport to the tops of the bookshelf when we weren't looking," Mrs. Granger sighed.
"Hey, could be worse! At least none of yours burnt down a tree," I chuckled, recalling the time Harry hit a tree with a lightning bolt.
"Not for lack of trying," Mrs. Thomas said with a smile, some of her nervousness fading.
"Sally-Anne was so happy to learn that unicorns are real," the other girl's father, Mr. Perks, said with a shake of his head. "I was less than enthused when I learned dragons were real, too."
"Don't worry, the Dragon Reservations are top-notch and completely safe. There hasn't been a dragon escape in over a decade," I assured him, feeling a bond with him being the only other man in the group.
As we chatted, one of the floos expelled a gout of green flames, disgorging a stout middle-aged woman with grey hair in a black robe and pointy hat. Her face lit up when she saw the children and she bustled over.
"Hello, everyone! My name is Pomona Sprout, Herbology Professor and Head of the Hufflepuff House at Hogwarts," she said with a grin, greeting the group.
Greetings were given, as well as introductions. To my relief, Harry's was the last one, though the portly professor's eyes had widened comically when she saw him, recognizing his scar instantly.
"My word!" she gasped out before Harry could speak. "Harry Potter?!"
"Damn it," I sighed, slapping my face as heads all turned in her direction. The parents all looked at me, and then at Harry, confused.
Poor Harry was swarmed by the witches and wizards in the pub a mere moment later, shaking hands and receiving tearful greetings and thanks.
"Professor Sprout, could you please explain to the people here, while we head for the Alley, why Harry's name drew so much attention?" I requested, sidling over to her. She'd made the mess, she'd have to clean it up.
She nodded, looking embarrassed at her outburst, and hastily explained a heavily abridged explanation of Voldemort, the war, and Harry's role in ending both.
Naturally, the parents were horrified. At what, I wasn't entirely sure, but the idea of a madman running around unchecked for years, murdering left and right, only to be stopped by an orphan he'd created? Not all that great, or a glowing endorsement of the wizarding world as a whole.
As for the kids? They were surprised they now knew a celebrity, and didn't fully understand the heavy burden Harry bore on his shoulders, just seeing him as someone cool and interesting. Which was probably better than the hero worship or hate he'd get from the magical children at Hogwarts.
After the explanation, Professor Sprout hastily bustled us out into Diagon Alley, earning a "Whoa!" from Dean and Justin and Sally-Anne's sister, and the rest were less vocal but still had impressed looks.
"First stop! Gringotts for galleons!" Professor Sprout said, leading the group to the bank.
I quietly whispered some information to the parents about the bank, its exchange rates, and a bit of history about the goblins. It was dry, but they appreciated it.
Meanwhile, Professor Sprout was entertaining the children with fanciful tales and less academic information about Gringotts, like how there were dragons guarding the vaults.
Pounds sterling were exchanged for galleons, and they left without incident. The next stop was the luggage store for enchanted backpacks. It was actually my idea, as I didn't think the kids would be able to carry everything they needed without it.
From there, we went to the book store for books, quills, and writing supplies, the potion shop for beginner sets, some other places for things like astronomy equipment, herbology gear, and Madam Malkins for robes.
Last but not least was the visit to Olivanders, the highlight of the day, since it was where they got their wands.
"Seven galleons for a stick?" Mrs. Thomas uttered in disbelief when she heard the price of the wands. "That's thirty-five pounds!"
"Actually, that's a pretty hefty discount," I said. "Replacement wands cost a bit more, at seventy galleons."
Dean Thomas' mother winced at that.
"Yeah, the ingredients to make them aren't cheap. A wizard's first wand is discounted by a Ministry tax write off for Mr. Olivander here, since they are an essential tool, but replacements are much more expensive," I revealed. "Try not to break 'em."
"Oh, he will be very careful with his," she said with a frown, giving Dean a warning look. He nodded rapidly in agreement.
"Just remember that students are not permitted to perform magic outside of school," Professor Sprout spoke up. "Underaged uses of magic are heavily penalized!"
I wanted to bring up the point that this rule only applied to non-magicals, as the Trace on the students was shoddy work, as it couldn't differentiate between sources of magic. Accidental magic or wand magic registered the same as House Elf or someone else's magic to the Trace, hence why Dobby was able to get Harry in trouble in his Second Year, but were still able to tell when he cast accidental magic in his Third Year and the Patronus in his Fifth. As a result, magical families were expected to operate on the honor system, but only a few of them actually bothered to follow the rule.
I decided not to bring it up for the moment. No need to bring down the mood with the systematic unfairness of the magical community.
"Now, for a very important stop: Lunch time!" Professor Sprout said happily. She led the group to a family-style restaurant on the intersection of Vertical Alley and Diagon to show off some of the foods the magical world had to offer.
"What is this obsession with pumpkin?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked under her breath as she squinted into her cup of pumpkin juice, while her son ate a pumpkin goulash. The restaurant's menu had been rather pumpkin heavy, too, though with a name like the Golden Gourd, it was to be expected.
"Pumpkin and squash are actually very magically resistant plants," I explained helpfully. "You normally can't grow plants with magic or it ruins them and messes 'em up, but pumpkins and squash? You can accelerate their growth, harvest them, even alter their size and taste with magic and not have to worry about magical contamination. It's why they're so popular in all kinds of dishes."
I took a sip of my own pumpkin juice as the adults and children absorbed my info dump. I actually kinda liked it. It was like one of the V8 vegetable juices. Healthy, too!
Professor Sprout however looked tickled pink to have someone explain it. "Why, yes, that's absolutely correct! We usually don't go over that particular fact until Third Year, but indeed, most mundane plants do poorly if subjected to too much magic. In fact, many native New World plants, such as cacao beans, corn, tomatoes, and tobacco can be grown using magic without much issue, whereas Old World plants need more careful care."
She grinned at me. "You know, I thought I knew every student at Hogwarts, but for some reason I'm drawing a blank."
"I didn't attend Hogwarts," I replied simply.
"Oh, I see. Perhaps Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny, then?" the Herbology professor inquired.
"Woolingsby, actually," I said with a thin smile. Professor Sprout clearly didn't recognize it, but nodded all the same, perhaps thinking it was a small magical school elsewhere, and I didn't feel like correcting her. It'd bring down the mood.
"You two have lovely daughters," Mrs. Thomas praised as she watched them chat with the other children at another table.
"Thank you! And is Hermione's name a Shakespeare reference?" Sally-Anne's mother, Mrs. Perks, asked Mrs. Granger.
"It was," the dentist confirmed. "We wanted a special name for our special girl."
"You know, we have plenty of respect for the Bard as well here in the magical world," Professor Sprout said with a smile. "He was actually a Squib."
She then had to explain what a 'Squib' was. Which of course led into a discussion over the blood status terminology, with emphasis on the word 'Muggle' itself.
Curiously enough, the term 'Muggle' was invented by none other than the Bard himself, William Shakespeare. The man was not a wizard, but many forget that, before the Statute of Secrecy was established, magical and mundane folk mingled, more or less. It wasn't uncommon to see a witch sell basic potions and poultices to the public, and no king worth his crown would be caught dead without a court wizard to protect and advise him. The common folk knew of the existence of magic, but it rarely impacted their own lives, as even as far back as ancient Rome, magicals preferred to live closer to their own kind, away from the unwashed non-magical masses.
Heck, the Muggle Repelling Charm was invented shortly after Hogwarts was founded, showing that magical folk had been segregating themselves for a while, and wards to keep non-magical people out of certain areas had existed as far back as the ancient Sumerians.
Anyways, the term 'muggle' was first used in one of Shakespeare's 'lost' plays. In that it was only lost to muggle audiences because it contained references to Hogwarts, and thus was censored when the Statute of Secrecy came into play in 1689. In the play, a group of four newly graduated Hogwarts students – one from each house – discussed with each other how odd the world seemed from their perspective, now that they were adults and going out to make their mark on it.
Shakespeare used the term in a sentence spoken by the Hufflepuff of the group to describe how non-magical people go about their day: "Look at how they muggle about, content to use but one rod in their lives."
Yes, the 'rod' reference was about dicks, Shakespeare's works were the low-brow everyman sort of entertainment instead of the high-brow deep art people like to believe they are today, get over it. But as for the word itself, 'muggle' had been meant to be used not as an insult, but a term of respect, and the speaker was trying to explain how he respected the regular people for doing their everyday jobs without complaining.
Unfortunately, like many things, the nuance behind the word was eventually lost. At first it was used in its original meaning, that is, a respectful term to denote a non-magical. It was easier to say 'muggle' than 'non-magical' after all, and had more pizazz than calling someone 'mundane.'
But, less than a decade after the word was first introduced, it began to be twisted. Calling someone a muggle became an insult to describe an ignorant mundane person. Whenever a magical person had a poor encounter with a mundane, the mage would call them a muggle. Angry mobs and witch hunters were scornfully called 'muggles' by their magical neighbors. And then, in the years immediately preceding the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy, it had evolved into a sort of slur. Only decades after the Statute was fully in place did the word's meaning carry less of a barb, though even today it was rarely said kindly or in a manner that relayed respect.
I, of course, happily shared these historical tidbits, and watched with amusement as Hermione, who'd been listening in to my explanation, eagerly asked her mother if they could go back to the bookstore to find a copy of the Bard's wizarding world exclusive works.
"We will see," Mrs. Granger said diplomatically, trying to resist the puppy dog eyes her daughter was giving her.
I felt that this whole thing had turned out to be a good time. Harry was happy and making new friends, and they were about to enter a magical new world.
A flicker of envy flared up within me, but I refused to let it sink its fangs into me and crushed it with my willpower.
I had come to terms with my own circumstances long ago. I would not begrudge these innocent souls the joy of new experiences. I would find my own way, just as they would theirs.
For now, though, lunch was over, and so was the tour and shopping trip. Harry and I bid everyone farewell, and then I took him back to Number 4 Privet Drive.
"Thank you, Ed," Harry said gratefully.
"Any time, Harry," I replied, patting his head and ruffling his hair, which earned me a pout. I just chuckled, then said goodbye and made my way back home.
It had been a good day. I'd made connections with some parents, helped Harry get some friends (hopefully), and generally had a good time. I was happy.
"Well, back to work," I muttered to myself as I stepped into my apartment. Potions weren't going to brew themselves! Not unless I bought a self-stirring cauldron or two!
"Things are going to change around here soon, Inky," I told my loyal House Elf, who nodded back from his spot in the kitchen.
Yes, things were definitely going my way!
& & & & & &
Chapter 20: Chapter 20: A New School Year!
Chapter Text
Chapter 20: A New School Year!
"You didn't have to take me to the train station," Harry said as I helped him roll his trunk to the train. It didn't have much in it, thanks to the magical rucksack he was wearing, but there was enough to make it unwieldy. He was holding Hedwig's cage close to his chest, watching me closely.
"I don't mind," I told him. "I'm glad to see you off to school."
I personally thought it was fitting. Today, Harry would be starting his First Year of Hogwarts, and tomorrow I would be starting my last year of secondary education. It was fittingly thematic.
We got to Platforms 9 and 10 with time to spare, and before stepping through the arch to the other side, I leaned down to give him a hug.
"You'll be starting a new phase of your life, soon," I told Harry. "Meet new friends, have fun experiences, learn as much as you can, and most of all, be happy."
"Of course!" he said, holding back tears. "Will you say 'Hi' to Sam for me? I haven't seen him for a while."
"You just saw him this weekend," I chuckled. "And if I recall, you cried into his shirt."
Harry let out a 'humph!' and looked to the side to wipe his tears away.
"Remember, you can always send me a message with Hedwig," I told him. "Both Sam and I are only an owl away. And be sure to keep up your Occlumency training! I'll quiz you the next time I see you!"
Harry nodded his head, forced a smile onto his face, and then went off, stepping through the arch. I smiled as he left. I was happy for him. It was time for him to write his own story. Heh. Meta-humor!
Harry POV
Platform 9 and Three-Quarters was a bustling busy place, with the gleaming Hogwarts express standing tall in front of everyone. It was an incredible sight, and Harry stared at it with eyes wide. With giddy steps, he boarded the train, hefting his trunk up the steps and hurried into the corridor.
There were plenty of available compartments, and Harry found one occupied by two people, one of whom he already knew.
"Hey, Hermione!" Harry said happily, spotting the bushy-haired girl.
"Harry! Come on in! Sit with us!" she said excitedly. She then began to coo over Hedwig when she spotted the owl.
Hedwig preened under the attention like the prima donna she was, but Harry smiled at the sight regardless. Seeing Hedwig happy made him happy.
He then glanced at the somewhat dumpy brown-haired boy sitting in the compartment as well, who was staring at Harry – no, at his forehead.
"Oh! Where are my manners!" Hermione said with a laugh, looking away from Hedwig for a moment. "Harry, this is Neville Longbottom! We met on the platform and decided to ride together. Neville, this is Harry Potter."
She then noticed Neville's stare.
"Um, although, it seems you already know that, though," she said.
"Um, sorry, I didn't mean to stare," Neville said, looking away from Harry's scar in embarrassment.
Harry just gave a thin smile. "It's okay. I suppose I'll have to get used to it," he told the other boy.
The trio chatted for a while, waiting for the train to fill up with students. Eventually, the train whistle blared, and the wheels began to turn.
At the same time, the door opened, and a freckle-faced red-head looked in.
"Um, hey, do you mind if I join you?" he asked. "My brothers are with their friends, and I don't know anyone else here."
"Sure! Come on in!" Hermione said cheerfully, trying to be as nice as she could to another potential friend.
As he sat down, his eyes widened when he spotted Harry. "Wicked! You're Harry Potter!"
"Yeah," Harry said with a quiet nod.
"I'm Ron! Ron Weasley!" the red-head chirped in greeting.
Harry squinted at Ron, the name tickling a memory in his mind, and with a brief bout of Occlumency, he was able to pull up the specific one.
"Weasley? Do you know Edward?" Harry asked curiously, the name of the family having come up a couple times in Edward's rants about magical society. He recalled Edward speaking fondly of them, though, even if they were, as the older boy put it, 'drinking Dumbledore's Kool-aid.' Which Harry wasn't entirely sure the meaning of, but he felt it had to do with them being good people despite trusting the old man who'd abandoned him to the Dursleys.
"Edward?" Ron asked, tilting his head to the side. His eyes then widened. "Wait, do you mean Eddy?"
"Do you two both know Mr. Rose?" Hermione asked, looking between the two.
"He used to be my neighbor, and would babysit me and Gin when there wasn't anyone else to watch us," Ron said, still giving Harry a surprised look. "He was best friends with Fred and George and Percy, before they went to Hogwarts. Still is with Fred and George, come to think of it. Percy? Not so much."
"He's also my neighbor. Sort of," Harry said quietly.
"Really? You mean he's been living next to you all this time and he never told us?" Ron asked, pouting fiercely.
"He wasn't supposed to tell anyone," Harry said, quickly defending Edward.
Ron didn't seem to like that, but nodded in understanding all the same. Meanwhile, Neville's forehead had wrinkled in confusion.
"Who's Edward?"
"My friend," Harry said.
"Someone Harry knows," Hermione claimed at the same time, while Ron also said, "A squib."
"Squib?" Hermione then asked.
"A non-magical person born to magical parents," Harry helpfully reminded her.
"Oh, like the opposite of witches and wizards being born to muggle parents?" Hermione inquired. "I think I remember something about that."
"Yup," Ron nodded. "Eddy moved to London to live among the muggles."
"But, if he was your neighbor, doesn't that mean you were living in the muggle world?" Neville asked Harry, still somewhat confused.
"Yes, that's correct," Harry said. "My… mother's sister lives there."
He couldn't bring himself to call that woman his aunt, not after everything that had happened with her, and even bringing up the fact the horse-woman was related to his mother seemed wrong to Harry, but he pushed through it thanks to Occlumency.
"So, the books written about you aren't real?" Ron asked, disappointed. "Man, Ginny's gonna be ruined."
"Yes, they're all fictional," Harry confirmed. "And I can't even try to get any royalties from them till I'm seventeen."
The quartet continued to chat throughout the train ride. Neville's toad, Trevor, tried to escape, but was caught by Harry before it could make it very far. That caused Ron to introduce Scabbers to everyone. Then when the snack trolley came around, Harry got everyone some sweets and treats to share.
Hermione then spent some time quizzing Ron and Neville about Hogwarts and the wider magical world, curiosity brimming. She's seemed disappointed that she couldn't use magic at home, and that there was such a difference between the magical and non-magical worlds, especially with their laws and social norms.
Their pleasant ride was interrupted when the door to their compartment slid open, revealing a trio of people. One was a petite platinum blond boy flanked by two much larger boys behind him. Harry unfavorably compared them to a pair of Dudleys with the way their eyebrows narrowed and they swept their eyes about, trying to size up the four of them.
"Can we help you?" Hermione asked, a bit annoyed at being interrupted mid-sentence. And Harry noted that while Ron and Neville had shared looks of relief at no longer being interrogated by the bushy-haired girl, their expressions had soured when they caught sight of just who it was that had 'saved' them.
"I heard Harry Potter was on the train," the blond said pompously.
"Who are you? And have you been going from compartment to compartment saying this in the hopes of being right at least once?" Harry couldn't help but ask, his question immediately sucking the wind out of the blond's sails for a moment.
"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond said, trying to recover the momentum. "And with me are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."
"Well, I am Harry Potter," Harry said, trying to be polite for the moment. No need to antagonize anybody.
"Wonderful! You should come sit with me, that way I can teach you all about the right people you should be spending time with."
At that, Ron snorted, and Malfoy's easy grin immediately morphed into a frown. "Hmph. No need to introduce yourself, I suppose. Red hair, hand-me-down clothes, rude manners? You must be a Weasley," the blond sneered.
Harry immediately found himself disliking the pompous git. Draco's attitude rubbed him the wrong way, and it was clear the blond only wanted to get to know Harry because of his name, and by extension, his fame.
Not to mention, another snippet of wisdom Edward had passed to him surfaced in his mind.
"There's a couple of families you're going to want to be on guard against when you're at Hogwarts. Be wary of anyone with the name Malfoy, Nott, Crabb, Goyle, Flint, Rook, MacNair, Parkinson, Carrow, Rosier, Bulstrode, and Hunch. That's not all of them, but they are the ones who will have kids at Hogwarts around your age while you are there. They're a bunch of pureblood nobles that were Death Eaters during the last war. They claimed to have been under the Imperius spell after Voldemort bit it, and got off scott-free after some hefty bribes."
Harry could also remember the sheer loathing in Edward's voice as he'd spoken on the topic, and the way this boy was acting wasn't winning him any points.
"I'm fine where I am, thank you," Harry said, shutting down Draco Malfoy's offer.
"What? You're really going to stay with a bunch of failures and blood-traitors?" the Malfoy scion demanded.
"Aren't your parents the ones who are losers?" Harry asked, voice laden with snark. "After all, they were on the wrong side of the war."
That caused all three of the boys' faces to turn dark with anger, but Harry just stood up and slammed the door to the compartment shut on them, before turning the lock on it with a 'click.'
"Well, that was a bit unpleasant," Harry said, putting on a fake smile. "What were you talking about, Hermione? Something about the Four Houses?"
All of the other kids in the cabin shared surprised looks with each other, before Ron grinned widely and even Neville cracked a small smile at the sharp dismissal Harry had given the other boys.
"Right! I was!" Hermione said, getting back into the swing of things. "So, I'm thinking I'd like to be in Ravenclaw, but Dumbledore was a Gryffindor and he's considered the greatest wizard of the modern age…"
The group kept chatting about this and that, doing their best to forget the incident just earlier. Eventually, the train arrived at the station, and the group got off, all dressed up in their new robes. As they exited, they found a giant, burly man with a big beard calling out for the First Years. Harry stayed with his new friends (at least, he hoped they were) and approached, the four boarding a boat together.
Getting into boats and sailing across the dark lake up to the castle was interesting, especially after a massive tentacle rose up and waved at them (Harry of course waved back. It was only polite, after all). But the most amazing part of the ride over was without a doubt the first glimpse of Hogwarts Castle, the lights coming from its windows illuminating it like a scene from a fantasy book.
Harry's breath hitched as he saw it, and he wasn't alone, with Hermione gasping and in other boats, whispered awe broke out.
When they finally sailed into the grotto and disembarked from the enchanted boats, the new students were led up some stairs to a grand hallway, with impressively large double doors. Their chatter immediately ceased when they spotted a very stern looking elderly witch.
"Firs' years, Professr' McGonagall," their enormous guide said, waving a meaty hand at the children who'd stopped behind him.
"Thank you, Hagrid, that will be all," the professor said, eyeing the students carefully. As the big man lumbered off, she quickly explained they'd be sorted soon, and left, entering the great hall behind her, the doors opening and closing too fast to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond.
"How do you think they'll sort us?" a student wondered aloud.
"My brothers said we have to wrestle trolls," Ron claimed.
"That doesn't seem like a very good test," another student said.
"We obviously have to try and cast a spell to prove we deserve to be here," another voice declared, this one snooty and just as arrogant as Malfoy's, but it came from a different person. Harry wondered if he was one of the people he was supposed to look out for.
Further conversation was put on hold as shrieks rang out amongst the crowd when a bunch of ghosts burst out of the walls and began to fly around through the corridor.
"Whoa!" Harry breathed out, staring in awe at the crowd of transparent silver figures that were phasing through the walls and floating above the student's heads.
"Look! First Years!" a rotund ghost in a friar's outfit exclaimed. "Hello, there! You should definitely consider joining Hufflepuff!"
"Leave them alone," another ghost scolded the first one. "Let them make up their own minds. After all, Gryffindor is clearly the best House!"
The ghosts kept on arguing, even as they floated away out of sight.
"Neat," Harry said. A moment later, the doors swung open, and Professor McGonagall beckoned the students forward.
Harry had thought he'd be all out of gasps after the last few minutes, but the beautiful, transparent ceiling of the great hall managed to draw one more out of him.
"It's enchanted to reflect the night sky," Hermione murmured under her breath. "I read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History."
Harry felt silently impressed that Hermione had actually read through that dense tome already. He'd seen Edward's copy before buying his own, and 'thick' was the only proper way to describe that book.
Then, his attention was drawn to a ratty, old, pointy hat on a stool. Then, to his astonishment, it began to sing. He clapped for it along with the other students in the hall, and Professor McGonagall brandished a scroll in one hand, unrolling it as soon as the applause faded.
"Step forth when you hear your name!" the professor called out. "Abbott, Hannah!"
The names on the list were called out, and people came up to the stool, and put on the hat. It then belted out one of the four Houses, and the robes gained a colorful stripe to match. Green for Slytherin, Blue for Ravenclaw, Yellow for Hufflepuff and Red for Gryffindor.
Hemione was sorted into Gryffindor after a bit, and so was Neville, even if his Sorting took the longest out of anyone else who'd come up so far. Malfoy and his goons all went to Slytherin, though the fact the hat hadn't even sat fully onto the latter's head made Harry wonder how close exactly someone needed to be, and if the hat even needed to be worn.
"Potter, Harry!" Finally, his own name was called, and he walked up, feeling uncomfortable as countless eyes pierced him and a deathly hush fell onto the room.
He stepped up to the stool and let the fall onto his head, the brim cover his eyes and blocking out the rest of the great hall.
"Well, this is an interesting mind you've got," Harry heard within his head, and he tilted his head to the side.
"Hello," he murmured softly.
"Hello, my boy," the hat said. "Such a neatly ordered mind. I see you've practiced Occlumency?"
"Are you reading my mind?" Harry asked, curious. He felt a pang of nervousness at the idea of his Occlumency being so easily seen through, but the Sorting Hat just laughed.
"Do not worry, I cannot speak of what I see to anyone but you, and no one else can hear us, so long as you just think your questions," the hat assured him. "And may I say that you have very nice mental shields! Far superior to any of the other children I've sorted in the last couple of years who've also learned this discipline. The young man who taught you did so quite well. And yes, you're right, I don't need to sit on your head to see your thoughts. Though it helps."
"That's really neat," Harry said, feeling a bit excited. "You must have seen so much history!"
"I have, though sadly much of it comes from the memories of children, and they don't have the most reliable thoughts," the Sorting Hat sighed. "But based on that statement alone, I could say you'd fit in well with the Ravenclaws. Though not as much as Hufflepuff. Your loyalty to this 'Edward' fellow is admirable. Though since it's to just one person, I fear that Hufflepuff is not the best house."
"Can I not be put in Slytherin?" Harry inquired. "Is making requests something I can do?"
"Why not Slytherin? You would do great in there. You have a thirst to prove yourself. A hunger to be appreciated. And though the fame does not appeal, you do want the power to control your own destiny. Slytherin would let you cultivate all of that."
"Perhaps, but… I don't want to give up being a nice person to achieve what I want," Harry replied, and the Sorting Hat sighed again.
"Such a shame how far Salazar's legacy has fallen," the hat murmured sadly. "It will have to be someone else who manages to bring light back to that dreary darkness. Very well, then. In light of that, there is only one House that fits such drive, determination, and courage. GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat was whipped off his head as cheers erupted from the red-colored table, and a pair of red-headed twins shouted "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
His robes gained a red highlight and he quickly joined Hermione and Neville at the table, and waited for Ron to join them.
His prediction came true and Ron was one of the last to be Sorted, and he joined the House of the Lion with his siblings and friends.
And then, Dumbledore stepped up and began speaking. Harry couldn't focus on his words all that much, however. He vaguely heard something about a forbidden forest? Or was that a corridor on the third floor that was off-limits?
The reason he couldn't concentrate was the hook-nosed, greasy-haired man sitting at the professor's table that was glaring at him from across the hall.
His scar tingled, and Harry hid the urge to glower and just threw up even more mental shields before avoiding making eye-contact with the man. The odd feeling persisted, however, but it faded when food popped up and the man stopped glaring.
"Harry? You alright?" Hermione asked when she noticed he wasn't eating.
"Who's that man over at the table with the greasy hair?" Harry asked one of the older students nearby, who also had red hair.
"That is Professor Snape. He teaches potions, and is the Head of House for Slytherin," the boy said.
"He's also a right prick who takes points from us for even the smallest thing," another red head, one of the twins, claimed, leaning in.
"Fred!" the older boy hissed.
"I'm George, and you know I'm right, Percy," the boy said. "Snape's a git and it's better if the Firsty's find out now, instead of later during class."
"That's a shame," Harry muttered in disappointment. "I really liked potions."
"Potions? You've brewed them before?" Hermione asked in surprise.
"Yeah, Edward taught me how," Harry explained. "It's one of the few things he was able to show me."
"I thought he was a squib?" Ron asked, confused. "How can he brew potions? Don't you need magic for that?"
"Edward said that all things have magic. Even muggles have a tiny amount. Squibs can't use a magical foci, but they can still brew potions, so long as you don't need to use a wand for it. The magic of many potions comes from the magic within the ingredients, not the brewer," Harry said. "Honestly, potion making is a lot like cooking and chemistry. As long as you know what you're doing, you shouldn't have any problems."
Percy, the twins, and a couple other older students all shared looks with each other, some of which were pitying.
"Snape is going to eat the poor boy alive," someone muttered under their breath.
After dinner ended, Percy and another prefect led the Gryffindor First Years up to the dormitory. The password was uttered before a portrait of a fat lady, and then they all entered. Some rules were given, but Harry was just feeling tired, and when he finally got to his bed, it didn't take him long to get ready to sleep.
As he drifted off into Dreamland, a smile slipped on Harry's face. He was free! He didn't have to go home to the Dursleys for a long time.
No matter what happened, nothing going forward could possibly be as bad as those past ten years!
Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Start of the School Year
Chapter Text
Chapter 21: Start of the School Year
Harry POV
The morning came, and Harry woke up along with his roommates feeling well-rested and eager for the day.
Down to the great hall for breakfast, Harry sat down facing Hermione while Ron and Neville sat down on other side of him.
"Morning, Hermione," he greeted her. "Sleep well?"
"I did," she said with a nod.
"Do you have nice roommates?" Harry inquired. "Ron and Neville are with me, as are two others boys. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan."
"Oh, Dean? From the Diagon Alley trip? He seemed nice," she said with a smile. "Sally-Anne is in there with me, as is Kellah, Parvati and Lavender. And they seem nice so far."
Harry nodded, recognizing the names from the Sorting last night, as well as Sally-Anne from the Diagon Alley trip as well. He waved politely to her when she came down with Kellah, and then again to Dean Thomas who was with Seamus Finnegan. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were the last of the first years to come down.
There were only fifty-one First Years at Hogwarts this year, and ten of them were in Gryffindor, making the Lion's House the smallest for that year. Syltherin was tied with Ravenclaw for the most students at fourteen each, and Hufflepuff had the second most with thirteen.
Musing about student numbers and how classes would be conducted was interrupted by a parliament of owls rushing into the great hall, letters and packages tied to their legs.
'I should send a letter to Ed and Sam later,' Harry thought to himself as he watched the owls arrive and deliver their burdens.
Harry resumed eating, making sure to pile his plate high with a balanced diet of meat and fruit. And some toast, fried tomatoes, and beans, because he wasn't going to say no to those! Being able to eat whatever he wanted, and as much as he wanted for every meal? Hogwarts definitely seemed like paradise compared to Privet Drive!
McGonagall passed out the class schedules for the week, and Harry wondered why they did it weekly, instead of monthly, or quarterly?
When he asked the professor as she walked by, she paused, gave him a weird look, and made an off-hand comment about the number seven being important or something, then hurrying off, muttering about talking to Albus about planning ahead for something.
"Ugh, Potions in the morning," Ron grunted when he saw their class line up. He'd already been infected by his siblings' dismissal of the class, though the rest of the First Years at the table seemed cautious and willing to give it a try.
"And with the Slytherins," Neville mumbled unhappily, glancing nervously towards the table where Draco and his cronies were sitting.
"It might not be that bad," Lavender Brown suggested.
"Hope springs eternal," Seamus Finnegan quoted glibly.
Once breakfast was finished, the students in the great hall all scattered to the four corners of the school, and the Gryffindor First Years headed down to the dungeons.
"Odd place to have a potion's classroom," Harry muttered, Hermione and Dean both nodding in agreement, having had enough muggle education to know 'fumes' plus 'enclosed spaces' was a bad idea.
They entered the classroom, and quickly sat down at the desks. The Slytherins were already there, and Harry earned some funny looks from all of the other First Years when he pulled a pair of protective goggles out of his backpack and put them on over his face. Robes were long and sturdy enough to act as aprons and to catch spills, and they already had to wear gloves to handle certain ingredients, so all that was missing was facial protection as far as Harry could tell.
A moment after the students all settled down more or less, Professor Snape stormed into the classroom, robe billowing both ominously and dramatically. His gaze swept over the classroom, and he stumbled a bit when he saw Harry sitting there with goggles on his face.
"Potter, what are you wearing?" he demanded, his initial words replaced by his confusion.
"Protective goggles, sir," Harry said, tapping the side of the plastic eye-covering. "To protect myself from getting any potions in my eyes."
"You will not need them," Snape sneered. "Five points from Gryffindor for being overly prepared."
"We won't be doing any brewing today, then?" Harry asked, resisting the urge to protest the loss of points for being safe.
"Off," Snape demanded one more time, and Harry sighed but complied.
His opening speech derailed slightly, Snape got back on track quickly enough by touting the virtues of the art of potion brewing, and claiming it was the best thing since sliced bread. Or at least, that was the gist Harry got from the man.
"Potter! Since you seemed so eager to do some work today, you should be able to tell me what would I get if I added a powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape inquired haughtily, pointing at him out of nowhere after finishing his speech.
"Um, that's… a Draught of Living Death, correct?" Harry replied after a moment to think it over.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Where would you find a bezoar?"
"A goat? It's sorta like a kidney stone, but wizards can consume them and have it be used as an antidote to most poisons."
"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape demanded.
"They're the same thing. Aconite, right?"
Snape stared at Harry, and Harry stared back, but very carefully made sure not to look directly in his eyes, as he remembered the pain from last night at the feast, and also recalled Edward's warning about Occlumency's sister discipline, Legilimency.
'Was he trying to probe my mind last night?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. 'Was that why my head ached a bit when I looked at him?'
Harry didn't feel anything new pounding against his mental barriers, but he avoiding looking directly at the teacher, just in case.
Snape continued to stare down at him for bit, before sneering and spinning around to the chalkboard where he jotted down a potion recipe and the instructions for brewing it.
"You have until the end of class to show me that you are not complete dunderheads by brewing a simple Boil Removing potion!" Snape instructed.
"Oh, so we are making something in the lab today," Harry muttered in annoyance under his breath. Ron, who was sitting next to him, snorted in amusement, but quickly pretended to be looking elsewhere when Snape's head snapped towards him.
Harry resisted the urge to put on his goggles as he cut up the slug that was to be added to the potion. He had been shown by Edward just how volatile potion-making could be if done wrong by brewing a Boil Cure potion the wrong way. The fountain of goo that had spewed from the training cauldron had been neat, but also smelly, and he had no wish for that to end up in his eyes.
'Hopefully the rest of the school doesn't treat student safety with such an off-hand attitude,' he thought to himself as he worked with Ron to make their potion..
Nearby with Neville, the poor boy's cauldron started foaming as he forgot to take off the slug's eyestalks before adding it to the concoction, and Harry had only a brief moment to shout "GET DOWN!" as a warning before diving beneath his workbench.
'Note to self, see about helping Nev with his potion work,' Harry thought to himself with a grimace as purple-green slime rained onto the classroom.
Still, a faint smile couldn't help but creep across his face. One way or another, things were going to be interesting here at Hogwarts!
Dumbledore was concerned, and for the moment it had nothing to do with the stack of paperwork on his desk. No, his mind was focused on Harry Potter, and his peculiar situation.
The problems had started when Professor Sprout had reported in, saying Harry Potter had shown up at one of the tours of Diagon Alley she gave every year to the First Year Muggleborn and their parents.
Not only that, but he had used it as an opportunity to hand in his Hogwarts acceptance letter. Dumbledore hadn't expected that. In fact, he'd been banking on the fact that the boy lived with Muggles to send someone to meet with him.
Normally, Muggleborn would be given their Hogwarts letter along with a note about being visited later for a brief, hour-long meeting with one of the teachers. Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick tended to be the ones to do so. Then, the parents would be told to meet at the Leaky Cauldron with their children for a day long shopping tour in Diagon Alley to show off the Wizarding World. This was usually when the acceptance letters were handed in. Half-bloods and Pureblood students, on the other hand, could rely on their owls to return the acceptance letters, so they didn't need a professor to give them an explanation of the magical world.
Imagine his shock when a beautiful snow-white owl delivered Harry Potter's acceptance letter to his desk! The boy shouldn't have had access to an owl at all! He knew for a fact Mrs. Figg did not have one. Most Squibs did not keep owls due to the fact they had to live in the Muggle world, and owls were not a common pet there. And nothing in any of her reports showed that the Dursley's had bought one recently.
Harry showing up to the Muggleborn meeting at the Leaky Cauldron was a surprise as well, due to the fact Dumbledore had carefully left out the note in Harry's letter about that, as well as any information about the Leaky Cauldron meeting. He'd wanted to control the way the boy was introduced to the magical side of things.
Then, when he'd investigated it later with Mrs. Figg, Dumbledore had learned some disquieting news. Someone had taken Harry to the Leaky Cauldron and shown off the magical world already!
Erroneous Hunch Jr., the eldest son of the late Erroneous Hunch, a former Death Eater who bribed himself to freedom.
He was also a Squib living in the Muggle world.
This had confused and worried Dumbledore immensely. How had the two met? And when? What had Harry Potter been told? Had the boy's views been tainted? Was it possible the
The only reason Dumbledore hadn't immediately rushed out to find and interrogate Erroneous Jr. was because the blood wards around the boy's house hadn't detected or registered any dangers. Any magical being – from magical beasts to wizards to even Squibs – that was a threat to the boy's safety wouldn't even be able to find or see the building, let alone enter it.
That meant that, for whatever reason, Erroneous Jr. didn't mean Harry Potter any harm. Not physically, at least. Dumbledore was well aware of how dangerous certain ideals and mindsets could be.
Was the boy working with the Death Eaters? Dumbledore doubted it, as they had always disapproved of Squibs, almost as much as they discriminated against muggles. Not to mention Erroneous Hunch had been dead for nigh on five years now.
Dumbledore knew Erroneous Jr. had a younger brother in Slytherin, a Third Year if he wasn't mistaken, but he had no way of knowing if Rudolf – that was his name – had anything to do with this.
Mrs. Figg had been singularly unhelpful as well. She knew Erroneous Jr. was Squib, and where he lived, but that was it. She'd meet the boy only a few times in the last couple of years. And she claimed he had never spoken to Harry or the Dursley's before, let alone approached their house! He lived in the next town over, after all. It wasn't like they were neighbors or went to the same school or anything. A frown slipped onto Dumbledore's face, and he popped a lemon drop into his mouth as he thought over everything he knew. Which was very little. And it annoyed him.
Yet, after watching the boy get sorted into Gryffindor and get along swimmingly with students from all walks of life, ranging from Purebloods like the Weasleys children and Longbottom boy to Muggleborn like the Granger girl and Thomas boy, Dumbledore felt some of his worries recede. He would have to check on what the boy was like in his classes later, but for the moment it didn't look like Erroneous Jr. had done anything to Harry to shift his perception on the wizarding world.
'Perhaps they'd just met that one time by accident and he had taken Harry home as a polite thing to do? Mrs. Figg did say it was late in the day when the event happened,' Dumbledore thought to himself.
"There is a meeting with the teachers at the end of the first week to discuss things, I'd better ask them their opinions on young Harry then," he then mused aloud, swallowing his tart candy treat.
A trill of approval rang out from a stand near his desk, and the elderly wizard smiled fondly at the red bird that was sitting there.
Fawkes was a Phoenix, and his feathers were starting to turn grey with age. Dumbledore knew it wouldn't be too long before his faithful old companion had his Burning Day.
'Another year or so if he follows the same patterns as before, I should think,' he silently guessed. He then tossed the bird a lemon drop and it gobble the treat down eagerly, chirping sweetly and easing the worries he felt about the situation.
That problem taken care of – or rather, put to the side momentarily – Dumbledore glared down at the ever-present bane of bureaucracy and got out his self-inking quill to get to work.
Things with Harry Potter would sort themselves out in time. He would make sure of it.
& & & & &
Author's Note:
Happy Halloween! Enjoy an extra chapter this fine, spooky day!
Chapter 22: Chapter 22: Business Deals
Chapter Text
Chapter 22: Business Deals
It had been over a week since Harry had gone off to Hogwarts, and I was feeling a bit lonely. Sam was great company, of course, but I'd grown attached to the little guy, and all his questions about magic.
I'd received an owl from him on Sunday, telling me all about his classes and classmates. He seemed to really be enjoying his time there, minus Snape's potion class and Astronomy. The former for obvious reasons, and the latter because he wasn't fond of staying up late.
I'd chuckled a bit as I read about him complain about Ron's snoring, and written back to him about looking up Silencing charms, and also suggested he befriend Hagrid for stories about his parents. The Groundskeeper had been a good and loyal friend in the books, and I felt that the two of them deserved to have that friendship continued in this life.
However, I had gotten a very interesting letter in the mail on Monday. It was an invitation to have lunch at Overton Downs Sports Club, which was an extremely fancy and exclusive country club that had golf, polo, tennis, an Olympic sized pool, and all the other trappings of society's elite.
It was signed by the Finch-Fletchleys, and I recalled grinning like a loon when I saw that. Somehow, my luck – and business card – seemed to be paying off.
Though I did have to get a proper outfit. I needed something to wear that wouldn't stand out too much there. Thankfully, I had Inky and a house full of old stuff to go through, and I found an old Acromantula silk suit and tie. The style was a bit out of date, from the 1920's if I wasn't mistaken, but it would do, and the quality of the materials wouldn't loose out to anything worn there by the club goers.
'I wonder what they want to see me about?' I wondered as I prepared to leave to meet them that Saturday. I adjusted the cufflinks – rune studded with a Shield charm to block a single low powered spell – and tie – also woven with runes to be stain resistant.
"What do you think, Inky?" I asked, looking over at my loyal House Elf as I finished my preparations by putting some samples of my cosmetics into a pocket on my suit – pre-expanded with a storage charm by my ancestors.
"Young Master Eddy looks like gallant, proper young master," Inky said, wiping a tear from his eyes. "Inky never thought he would get to see you looking like proper noble that you are."
"I'm not a noble," I muttered under my breath.
"To Inky, you are," the House Elf claimed.
I wasn't sure how to feel about that, so I choose not to say anything.
"Okay, let's go," I said instead, and Inky snapped his fingers, poofing us both away.
We'd scouted out Overton Downs a couple days before I was supposed to meet there in order to get a scope of the place, and find a location I have Inky pop me into. You don't ride a bus or taxi to get to a place like Overton Downs. I'd have been laughed out the door if I'd tried. With no other choice, I relied on magic.
The place we popped in at was a section of the country club's parking lot that was away from any cameras, and behind a few decorative bushes so no prying eyes could notice us.
"Wish me luck, Inky," I requested, and he nodded, snapping a salute.
I walked out, straightening my clothes superficially, and walked with confidence I didn't quite feel up to the entrance.
I flashed my invitation to the man at the doors, who nodded and had someone escort me into the building, since I was a guest and not a member of the club.
'Jeez, how much money do these people have?' I couldn't help but wonder as I walked past opulence and finery that boggled the mind. It was all tastefully downplayed, so nothing looked gaudy, but I could tell that everything was made of the highest quality materials.
As I tried not to gawk, I was led into the dining room, where the Finch-Fletchleys were waiting for me to join them for lunch.
"Good afternoon," I said in greeting, giving a polite nod to the duo. "And Mrs., may I say you look lovelier than when I first met you."
"Charmer," she said with a demure smile. She was wearing a dress that was probably worth more than my entire apartment complex, to say nothing of the string of sapphires around her neck.
As I sat down, I glanced at Mr. Finch-Fletchley. He wasn't a big man, but he was surprisingly muscular, his bulk straining against his clothing. Racking my mind, I recalled some of the info I'd looked up the family as part of my preparations for this meeting, namely that he'd been in the military. Retired SAS officer, to be precise.
I also noticed he was closely observing me too as I took my place at the table facing them.
"Thank you for extending an invitation to me," I said, drawing upon all the of the – admitted limited – etiquette lessons I'd gone through as a child. Before it was confirmed I was a squib.
"No, it's our pleasure," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley replied. "We invited you here because we were curious about the new world our beloved Justin has found himself in, and I recalled that you were quite knowledgeable during our tour."
'Translation, they want the deets on the magical world, and didn't know how to contact anyone else who had connections to it,' I thought calmly. I'd expected this, and wasn't unprepared.
"I'd be happy to answer any of your questions," I promised. "What did you want to start with?"
"Hogwarts, as well as the quality of education our son will be getting," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley declared. "We heard it was the premiere magical school in Britain, but after seeing Diagon Alley, I have to wonder if it's the case."
"Hogwarts is indeed the premiere magical school in Britain by dint of being the only one," I said. "There is a daycare and pre-school for magical children, but that is completely separate. However, despite the decline in recent years, Hogwarts is one of the better schools, being considered one of the Big Three of European education. Its rivals are Beauxbatons in France and Durmstrang of Germany. Technically. The latter school is hidden somewhere in the Balkans or further north. I personally suspect Russia. But the language they speak is German, and they have strong ties to the Germanic speaking countries. There are 'lesser' schools in Greece, Italy, Spain, Switzerland, Sweden, Turkey, and Poland, but they are rather small and cater to old blooded families or to their own nationalities."
"Interesting," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said slowly. "So the quality is good?"
"Yes," I admitted. Despite everything, Hogwarts was still rather exceptional, with award-winning teachers in most of the posts. Except for Magical History, Muggle Studies, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, which were piss poor by any stretch, the rest of the classes were quite educational. Even Potions, for all that it was taught by a child-hating greaseball, was seen as being of extremely high quality due to Slughorn and Snape, the latter of which was one of the youngest people in the magical world to be labeled a genuine Potions Master.
"However, I would suggest hiring tutors for Justin's education," I suggested. "His mundane education, I mean. They don't really teach any of the standard schooling at Hogwarts."
"Do you think that's for the best?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked.
"I do, Mrs.," I nodded. "It will help him keep up with the mundane side of things, and it's just common sense. After all, he's still registered as a citizen here in the mundane world, so having a seven-year gap in his education would be suspicious at best."
"That makes sense," the father admitted with a slow nod.
"I'd be happy to throw my hat into the ring for that job, if you're interested," I said, offering my services as a tutor. "I am the top of my class, and have been for years. It'd be no problem to help Justin."
"Thank you, we'll take that under consideration," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said.
"Now, what about his job prospects?" his mother inquired.
"I don't see why he couldn't get a job working with either government," I replied. "In fact, if you played your cards right, Justin would probably be a shoo-in for a lot of high-ranking positions on the mundane side."
"Really?" Justin's mother asked, and I got the feeling she was now more intrigued.
"The Prime Minister knows about magic," I explained after casting a surreptitious look around for eavesdroppers. "And so do a lot of other people in the government. Can't keep a secret as big as the wizarding world hidden without some interaction between the two. Plus, even magical folk are still citizens under Her Majesty."
Which was true. Technically speaking. By law, the Minister of Magic was just another Minister in the British government. He was technically subordinate to the Prime Minister and had to swear his vows to the Queen. But as far as I was aware, those protocols hadn't been invoked in decades. To all intents and purposes, Magical Britain was its own independent nation!
I didn't doubt there were elements in the British government who knew something about the magical side, and kept an eye on things. They'd be fools not to have some contingencies in place. But the Statue of Secrecy had caused most magical governments to all but secede from their mundane counterparts. And in some places in Europe where the borders and regimes had changed for the muggle nations, and the magicals had stayed in more or less the same places, that was indeed the case.
"That's very interesting," Justin's father commented, rubbing his chin as he did so.
"It is," I agreed, giving them a winning smile.
"Tell us more about the society of the magical side," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley requested. "I got the feeling the professor was sugar coating things during the tour."
"Ah, I see you caught on to that," I said with a nod. "Let me enlighten you."
As I explained to them the nuances of the magical world and the shadows Professor Sprout had tried to keep hidden, I watched as their faces went through a variety of expressions.
Bemusement at first. A very 'How quaint' sort of look when I mentioned how it was closer to the Victorian era in terms of society, which shifted into disbelief as I explained the pseudo-nobility and blood system, then anger at said nobility and blood system, disgust at the backwards notions and attitudes the magicals had towards the non-magical, including Squibs like myself, and finally carefully composed neutrality as I went over some recent history as well as the finer points of their laws which limited Justin's success if he only focused on the magical world.
"How do they get away with this?" Mr. Finch-Fletchley demanded through gritted teeth.
"Magic," I said simply. "But times are changing. Within half a century they won't be able to hide anymore. Not without major changes to their own societies. Cameras and electronics are vastly superior to what they used to be, after all. And they'll only get better."
Electronics didn't work at Hogwarts and other old magical sites due to Anti-Lightning Wards, not because of any sort of interference between science and magic, thankfully. I didn't know if EMP hardened equipment could bypass this, but it was something to research.
"You've been very helpful," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said. "Is there any way we could thank you?"
"There's two things," I admitted. "I'd like help with getting a letter of recommendation to Oxford. Second, I'd like to offer you a chance to invest in my business."
I placed my samples onto the table so they could examine them, and sat back to watch and wait.
"Having a tutor whose attending Oxford would be good for Justin," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley mused as she examined the creams I'd provided, my hopes rising somewhat.
"And this doesn't fall under those magical bans you told us about?" Justin's father inquired as he also tested the samples.
"Nope. Oh, I'm sure they'd try and stop me if they knew, but there's nothing on the books about it," I replied smugly.
"While we are intrigued by this business idea of yours, we really can't make such a big decision so soon," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley claimed, her husband nodding along with her statement.
"Perhaps once I've gotten started with it you'll change your mind," I said with a nod, completely understanding their hesitance to invest or get involved in this magical medical cream business. There was the threat of Obliviation atop financial loses to look out for, after all.
I leaned in. "Still, I hope we can continue to have a good relationship with each other going forward."
"I believe that is more than possible," Justin's mother said, her husband smiling at her side. I gave them a demure and polite smile, while inside I was celebrating wildly.
My first steps towards getting my business up and running were going well, and I'd made a connection with the upper crust through the Finch-Fletchleys. All I had to do now was capitalize on it.
&&&&&
Chapter 23: Chapter 23: Halloween Mishaps
Chapter Text
Chapter 23: Halloween Mishaps
Harry POV
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry called out, and smile of pure joy and awe flickered across his face as he watched the feather jump up and stay floating in the air in front of him.
"Excellent work, Mr. Potter! Five points to Gryffindor!" Professor Flitwick said, the short Charms Professor grinning widely at the second success of the class. Hermione, of course, being the first student to figure out the Levitation Charm.
Harry just nodded, and stayed focused on keeping the feather aloft as long as he could, while also feeling how it felt to do so. One of the things Harry wanted to do was learn to cast spells wandlessly, and to do so, he'd begun keeping a close eye on the way his magic felt and flowed whenever he did magic. Occlumency helped immensely with this endeavor.
His concentration faltered however when Seamus caused his feather to explode. Again. Somehow.
"No, no, Ron, it's 'Levi-osa,' not 'Levi-o-sa,'" Harry heard beside him, and he glanced to right where Ron and Hermione were sitting.
"Ugh, I am saying it!" Ron grumbled in annoyance, swishing his wand about in an angry motion.
"Clearly you're not," she retorted.
"You do it, then!" the red-head said in exasperation.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" she intoned, giving the proper swish and flick as well as properly enunciating. The feather flew up almost to the ceiling before fluttering back down.
"There, see? Not so hard when you say the incantation right," she said with a smug grin that had Ron fuming and looking down at his feather in annoyance.
"Hermione, remember what I said about not gloating?" Harry said to her, and she deflated a bit.
Seeing her mood drop, Ron winced and turned back to her. "Hey, that was still a good job," he assured her.
"It was," Harry agreed. "Ron will figure it out, too. If he can beat all of us in chess, he can find a way to cast the spell."
That made Ron and Hermione both smile, and the former to sit up straighter and try again.
"Can you show me how to do the swish and flick motions?" Neville requested from Hermione, leaning across his seat to ask her after a bit. "I just can't seem to get it right."
She smiled weakly at the two, and then gave the pudgy boy with a nod. "Of course, Neville. Here, watch my wand…"
She then demonstrated for her friend, and Harry smiled a bit at the sight before going back to practicing the spell again.
The days at Hogwarts felt like they'd passed by in a blur, and September had turned into October before he knew it.
Harry had become fast friends with Ron, Neville, and Hermione. While he was friendly and on good terms with all of the Gryffindor First Years, the three he spent the most time with were definitely Ron, Neville, and Hermione. They ate together, did homework together, and did classes together.
He often had to play peacemaker between them, though, especially Ron and Hermione. The bushy haired girl was simply too smart, and she didn't understand how hard it was for kids her own age to do certain things, or think like her. Ron also had a bit of an inferiority complex, something he shared with Neville sadly, but where the Longbottom boy got depressed when things went wrong, Ron got snippy.
Harry didn't mind doing so, however. In fact, it felt nice being able to act as a sort of bridge between the two and help them get along. Helping people get along felt like he was actually doing something, and it really helped his own self-esteem, knowing that his actions had tangible effects.
Not to mention his work was paying off. Ron was starting to recognize whenever he went too far with his comments, and was quick to apologize, in his own way, without Harry needing to prompt him anymore. And Hermione was also slowly realizing that people learned at their own paces, and that sometimes her 'helpful advice' sounded a bit too much like being a know-it-all.
And Neville? He was still shy and withdrawn, but Harry had found a way to help the boy open up by tutoring him in Potions, and then letting Neville tutor him in Herbology in return. It let Neville build his confidence, and he was no longer causing as many accidents in Snape's class.
Neville had really begun to hang around them after an 'accident' during Flying Class. Draco Malfoy hadn't gotten over being snubbed on the Hogwarts Express, and seemed to have made it his mission in life to be an annoying ponce for Harry and the other Gryffindors.
Draco (Harry refused to call him by his last name because the blond twit seemed to have an inordinate amount of pride in being a Malfoy) had stolen something from Neville, a Rememberall, and then tried to chuck it away towards the Forbidden Forest.
Harry had not let that happened, zooming off on his broom to catch it. He caught the ball before it got anywhere near the spooky forest on the edge of the school grounds, and found he had a knack for broom riding.
Also, he became the Youngest Seeker in Hogwarts history when Professor McGonagall saw him doing so from her office window. Which was neat, but felt a little too much like favoritism. Still, the chance to rub it in Draco's face was too great to pass up, so he agreed. Something he slightly came to regret after being run into the ground during training by Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, but he'd gritted his teeth and kept at it. Harry Potter was not a quitter!
Ever since then, Neville had been an integral part of their team, and more than once, Harry had overheard the magical portraits and teachers, especially the older ones, whisper amongst themselves about some group called 'The Marauders' who'd apparently gone to Hogwarts in the past. He didn't know why his friendship with Ron, Hermione, and Neville made people compare them to that group, but it felt nice in a way. Though Snape certainly didn't seem to like the comparison. Whoever the Marauders had been, he wasn't a fan, and his glaring just got worse whenever it came up around the Potion's Professor.
Eventually, the Charms lesson was over and the class was dismissed. It was also the last lesson of the day, leaving them free to head directly to the Great Hall.
"Finally, I'm starving," Ron said, rubbing his stomach eagerly at the thought of the Halloween Feast as the four of them walked out of the classroom.
"Mmm. I'm curious about what sort of food they'll have. Even more pumpkin based stuff, I'll bet," Hermione said with a shake of her head.
Harry and Neville shared a look. Not because of the food, although Harry agreed with Hermione's opinion on the overabundance of gourd-base foodstuffs. It was because he and Neville weren't particularly fond of October 31st. For obvious reasons.
Ron and Hermione both noticed their silence, and winced.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," Hermione apologize.
"No, it's fine," Harry said with a shake of his head.
"We could always skip the feast," Ron suggested, even though it looked like it physically hurt him to suggest such a thing.
"Right! I've heard that there's a kitchen somewhere, we can get food from it and eat somewhere if you don't want to be around so many people," Hermione offered.
"You don't have to do that for us," Neville said softly. "We don't want to be a bother."
At that, Ron and Hermione both shared a look with each other, then nodded as if they'd spoken telepathically.
"Wait right here," she ordered the boys, before jogging off down the hallway towards a cluster of Hufflepuffs who were also making their way to the Great Hall. "Susan! Hannah!"
The two girls in question, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, both turned at the sound of their names being called, and smiled when they saw who it was.
"Oh, hi, Hermione, what's up?" Hannah asked curiously. She had blonde hair, and wore it long and loose.
"I read in Hogwarts, A History that the kitchens are near the Hufflepuff common room," Hermione said.
"Yes, that's true," Susan replied with a nod. Susan wore her brown hair in a plaited braid, and it was shorter than her friend's hair. She was also shorter than Hannah in height as well. In fact, Susan was the shortest witch among the First Years, Harry noted.
"Do you think you could show us? We're not going to the feast tonight."
"You're not? Why?" Hannah asked, surprised.
"We just wanted to have a quiet dinner amongst ourselves," she replied.
"Oh," Susan said, eyes widening as she looked past Hermione at Harry and Neville, realization flickering within. "I see."
"Sure, I guess," Hannah said, shrugging at the response.
"Actually, do you think we could join you guys?" Susan asked suddenly, causing Hermione and Hannah to both blink in surprise.
"I don't see why not," Hermione said slowly. "I'll have to ask them." She ran back to her friends, and then a moment later they all came walking over.
"It's fine with us," Harry said, noticing how Susan had tensed up before relaxing when she heard his answer.
"Thanks," Susan said with a faint smile. Hannah suddenly seemed to understand why Harry and Neville wouldn't want to be around other people for Halloween, and she quickly nodded her thanks as well.
"Come on, the kitchens are this way," Hannah said, leading the group down to the first-floor corridor where a large painting of a fruit bowl was hanging.
"Oddly fitting," Harry muttered as he watched the Hufflepuff girl tickle the pear and have it laugh, then turn into a doorknob.
Hannah then opened the painting up, which had become a door. Harry thought that it wasn't the most secret of entrances since the painting was big enough to conceal a door behind it, but he didn't say anything as he went inside with the rest.
"Oh, House Elves," Harry said as he looked around at the bustling kitchens. "Neat."
'I wonder how Inky is doing?' the Boy-Who-Lived idly mused, reminded of the old but funny House Elf that helped Edward.
"How can Sweepy helps youses?" a House Elf asked, popping over to them as they entered.
"Hi, there," Harry said politely. "We were wondering if we could have some food delivered to a classroom tonight, if it's not too much trouble?"
"Oh, it be's no troubles," Sweepy said, floppy ears shaking as it spoke.
"Great! Um, do you know of a room that's unoccupied we could use?" Harry asked, turning back to the group.
"There's a room on the second floor that's empty," Susan said after thinking it over.
"There's a lot of empty, unused rooms in Hogwarts," Hannah pointed out, to which they all nodded.
It was true, after all. Hogwarts was a giant magical castle meant to hold the entirety of Britain's young magicals, but barely had around a thousand or so students spread out through all seven years and all four houses, when it could easily hold ten times as many.
"Yeah, but the one I'm thinking of has that really big window that over looks the lake," Susan said. "It has this painting of a pig with wings."
"The one near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Hannah asked for clarification. When Susan nodded, she hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess that would work."
"What do you say, Sweepy? Can you deliver some food to that room?" Harry asked, and the House Elf nodded so fast he thought their head would fly off.
"Sweepy can!"
"Alright, then," Harry said, and the group told the elves what they'd like to eat. Sweepy promised it would be there waiting for them, and the group went off the second floor.
It was a nice-looking place, with an entire wall taken up by windows that looked out over the lake, providing an amazing view of the stars reflected on the surface. And there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen, but that was to be expected with House Elves running around, Harry thought. He'd only met Inky a few times, but in that short period he'd learned they were clean-freaks of the highest order.
Tables and chairs had been set up near the windows for them, and food was already waiting for them there.
"We're going to go and freshen up a bit first," Hannah said, dragging the two girls with her down the hall. "Don't start without us!"
"Hurry, I don't know how much longer I can hold Ron back," Harry said with a chuckle.
"Oi, I'm not that bad!" the red-head protested.
Still, everyone, even Ron, laughed at the bad joke, and the girls left, leaving the boys alone in the room to wait. Which was rather hard as the meal the elves had brought up smelled amazing. The winged pig in the painting hung on the wall certainly agreed, if the eager squeals were anything to go by.
Though Harry found it was getting harder to concentrate on anything as a throbbing pain began to build up within his head. It didn't feel like any headache Harry had ever had before, as it felt sharper, like being jabbed with needles centered on his forehead.
He hid any signs of discomfort, however, and smiled and laughed along with Ron and Neville, trying to distract himself from the pain. It worked well enough, but it was very uncomfortable.
Around five minutes later the boys were interrupted by Sweepy appearing before them, looking worried.
"Students needs to be going backs to their dormsies!" he (or she? Harry wasn't good with telling the difference between House Elves since he'd only ever met two of them) said nervously.
"What? Why?" Harry asked, headache completely forgotten as he picked up on the fear and nervousness radiating from the diminutive helper.
"There's a trollsy loose in the castle!" Sweepy informed them. "Teachers said it was in the dungeons!"
"Okay, we'll go, thank you for the warning," Harry said, even as Neville and Ron gaped in shock at the House Elf, who popped away after delivering the message.
"A troll? Here? In Hogwarts?" Ron sputtered in disbelief.
"Sounds crazy, but I'm not going to stick around and find out if Sweepy was lying. Not that I think he was, just saying," Harry hastily said. "We should head back to the dorms."
"Wait, what about the girls?" Neville asked, concerned. "Do you think they know about the troll?"
Harry opened his mouth to say 'yes,' but he couldn't. Had a House Elf gone to warn them? Or had it only come to them because it knew we'd be in the room in the first place?
"Uh-oh," Harry muttered, a sentiment shared by Ron and Neville if the worry in their eyes was any clue.
"Let's go get them!" Ron said, already running for the door.
Harry caught up with him, and he recalled passing a bathroom on the way to the classroom. He ran towards it, Neville and Ron right behind him.
"Hermione! Susan! Hannah!" Harry shouted as he burst into the bathroom, only to pause, confused, when he didn't see any trace of them. "Wait, where are they? They said they were going to the bathroom!"
"Nobody uses the second-floor girl's bathroom!" Ron shouted at Harry in annoyance.
"That's right! They don't want to deal with poor old Myrtle!" a young-looking ghost wailed dramatically as she phased through a bathroom stall. "No one cares about me whether I'm living or dead!"
"I'm very sorry to hear that," Harry said, genuine sympathy in his voice for her plight. "I know what it's like to be ignored."
That caused the ghost to pause in her waterworks and to stare at him in befuddlement.
"Really?" she asked, and Harry nodded.
"Yes, but we can't stay, there's a troll loose in the school and our friends don't know about!" Neville said quickly, stepping in.
"A troll? Oh dear, looks like I won't be the newest ghost in Hogwarts," Myrtle said, sounding a bit excited at the prospect, and the boys paled at the thought.
"Please! Can you help us find them?" Harry pleaded.
"They probably went to the first-floor bathroom," Ron guessed. "This one is, uh, occupied, and the third floor's bathroom is in the West Wing, and off limits!"
"Oh, right, that whole forbidden corridor thing," Harry muttered. He then turned to Myrtle with a pleading look. "Can you please check on them?"
"Fine," she huffed, then dove into the floor. She returned a moment later, a look of concern in her eyes.
"Where did you say the troll was?" she asked, and the boys went even paler.
"Oh, shit!" Neville swore, and as one, the trio booked it for the staircase.
They made it to the stairs and rushed down to the first floor, where a foul stench slapped them in the face as they ran to the bathrooms.
"That's a troll, alright," Ron said weakly, pinching his nose as they did so. He also whipped out his wand, something that Harry and Neville copied a moment later.
Besides the smell, the trio could also hear a loud thumping, and as they turned a corner, the boys skidded to a halt, taken aback by the definitely out of place creature in front of them.
Twelve feet tall, grey-blue skin, with a tiny bald head and oddly oversized ears atop a burly body. Its feet were covered in warts, and its nails were a worrying shade of green.
Oh, and it had a massive club – probably was an entire tree at one point – that the troll was smashing against the girls bathroom.
The troll was inside the bathroom already, the doorframe ruined with bits of rubble everywhere, and it was smacking the door of a stall, trying to break it down. Screams came from within, which explained why it was focusing on it at all. Somehow, the door to the stall hadn't been turned to splinters, but flickers of light that rippled across the door told Harry that it must have been a spell of some sort.
"Oh, shit," Ron uttered in horror.
"What do we do?" Neville asked in a panic.
"We draw its attention away from the girls," Harry said defiantly, pointing his spell at it.
"Shouldn't we wait for the teachers?" Neville asked with a gulp.
"They all think it's at the dungeons, remember? That's on the other side of the castle!" Harry retorted. "Aguamenti!"
A stream of water shot from his want tip, though it didn't reach far enough and didn't even reach the trolls feet.
"Oops, I guess it's too far," Harry said awkwardly when Ron and Neville both shot him deadpan looks.
"I have an idea," Ron said, quickly formulating a plan as he looked around the hallway. "Guys, can you follow my lead?"
Harry and Neville nodded, and he swiftly explained his plan. "We have to lure the troll to the stairs in the main corridor! They're designed to trap anything that intrudes on the school. We get it onto the stairs, we've gotten it away from the girls and the teachers can deal with it later!"
"Brilliant!" Harry praised, and Neville nodded. "What do we need to do?"
"Get it's attention," Ron said grimly.
"Got it," the Boy-Who-Lived said with a nod. He then ran over to the troll, and raised his wand.
"Oi! Lard butt! Over here!" Harry shouted, running up to the troll and spraying it in the back with water from his Aguamenti spell.
The troll turned around, a look of confusion on its face as it wondered why it was wet. Was the screaming little meat-nugget the cause?
Annoyed, it stopped banging on the bathroom stall, and stomped out of the bathroom. As it bent its head to get through the door frame, Harry hit it with another Aguamenti, blasting its face with it. Sopping wet and angrier than before, the troll let out a bellow and started to stomp after Harry.
Behind the troll, the bathroom stall door creaked open, three frightened faces peeking out, and Harry made a shooing motion at them to start running. He then turned around and began to escape towards the stairs where Ron and Neville were waiting, the former halfway up a staircase and the latter waiting at the bottom.
Harry managed to keep insulting and spraying the troll with water as he ran away, and succeeded in luring it towards the main stairwell which connected almost all of the stairs in the school.
However, as the troll stomped after Harry, one of its big, dumb feet slammed down near a pile of bricks that'd been dislodged when it'd broken its way into the girl's bathroom. By sheer dumb and bad luck, the troll's foot sent a bit of stone flying towards Harry.
Harry stumbled and fell as the brick the troll had accidentally kicked at him slammed into the back of his left leg with tremendous force. Harry tried to get up, but a howl of pain escaped his lips. The piece of masonry had broken or torn something in his leg! He was trapped.
"Neville! Cast a spell! Get it attention's away from Harry!" Ron shouted from the tops of the stairs as he looked down at the scene in horror.
"I-I can't do it!" Neville cried, frantically shaking his wand at the foot of the stairs. Sparks sputtered, but the spell he was attempting refused to work.
"Damn!" Ron swore, before looking around. His eyes landed on a suit of armor nearby at the top of the stairs on the second floor, complete with sword and shield, and he pointed his wand at it. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, and to his relief, it worked. The sword began to float, and Ron directed it over the edge of the staircase, where it fell, point down, onto the troll.
The sword stabbed into the troll's back, right between its shoulder blades. Unfortunately, it didn't drive deep enough, and the lumbering behemoth didn't even seem to notice it'd been stabbed! It just kept stomping towards Harry, murder in its eyes.
The troll roared, and swung its club to the side, trying to knock aside the black-haired boy who'd dared to stab it.
"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" Neville screamed, swishing and flicking his wand desperately at Harry. His wand exploded, but the spell still went off, Harry being catapult upwards into the air towards the ceiling, the club narrowly missing him.
After rising up high, Harry naturally began to fall, and straight down towards the troll. Harry desperately angled himself towards the sword, which was still stuck in the troll's back. He landed on the sword, just as he planned, and put all of his weight and strength into trying to shove the blade even deeper into the troll.
Now, Harry was not, and probably never would be, a big and meaty kind of guy like his uncle and cousin, even if he tried. However, a year of eating more food than he'd ever dreamed of getting from the Dursleys had filled him out, and his burgeoning magic and Nutrient Potions from Edward had corrected a lot of the flaws the Dursleys had left with his body.
Harry was no longer a scrawny waif a stiff breeze could knock over. He was bigger, stronger, taller, and most importantly, heavier.
And all of that meant when he landed on the sword, the full weight of his body was put behind it, driving it even deeper into the troll, the tip of the blade just barely visible poking through its chest.
A troll's heart was larger proportionally compared to a human, and the sword had managed to pierce it, severing multiple arteries instantly. Even for a beast whose brain was literally the size of a walnut, this was considered 'a bad thing.'
The troll staggered, surprise crossing its dumb face, before it toppled forward without a word. It lay still, a pool of oily black blood growing beneath it.
"Owww," Harry groaned, a hand clutching his chest where he'd landed on the sword's pommel. He then rolled over off of the troll's back, and groaned some more when the pain lanced through his leg next.
"Merlin, Harry! That was bloody mental!" Ron shouted as he and Neville ran over to him. From the hallway, Hermione, Susan, and Hannah also sprinted over to check on him, concern all over their faces.
"It worked, though," he chuckled, before wincing. He then gave Neville a concerned look. "Hey, your wand…"
Neville quietly shook his head. "Yeah, it's broken."
"Damn," Harry muttered. "Sorry."
"I'd rather have you alive than an unbroken wand," Neville replied.
At that, Hermione initiated a massive hug while sobbing in relief, drawing the boys together with her, and was joined by Susan and Hannah a moment later, all six of them hugging each other happily.
"What's all this?!"
"Professors!" Hermione shouted as she looked up and over Harry's shoulder, her bushy head poking out and staring down the hallway.
With impressive speed, the group untangled itself from the hug-pile and turned around to see a group of their teachers standing there, staring at the scene in shock. Professor McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, and Quirrell, along with Headmaster Dumbledore, had just arrived in the hallway, and were taking in the damage and dead troll in disbelief.
"Can someone explain what happened here?" McGonagall finally demanded, stepping forward and glaring at the students.
For some reason that none of them could fathom, that was incredibly funny to the First Years. Harry snorted, then Susan let out a giggle, and then all six of them were laughing their asses off in front of the bemused and bewildered faculty.
"It's a long story," Hermione managed to get out between hiccups of laughter. That only caused them to laugh even harder.
The professors just shared confused looks with each other.
LINE BREAK
Author's Note:
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Enjoy some turkey and a bonus chapter!
Chapter 24: Chapter 24: The Mysterious Mr. Flamel
Chapter Text
Chapter 24: The Mysterious Mr. Flamel
Harry POV:
Halloween passed by, and there were a few new changes for Harry. For one, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot had joined their friend circle. The troll's attack had traumatized the two, but Hermione had been able to keep them safe in the bathroom with a shield spell she'd read in an upper-level textbook. They'd clung to Hermione and the boys in the aftermath, and Harry couldn't deny it'd made things more interesting.
Hermione certainly seemed to like having more girls to get along with, and the bickering between her and Ron also decreased drastically. The red-head was also striving to do better in class, especially Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Another change had been Neville getting a new wand after exploding his old one saving Harry's life, and everyone could only marvel at how much better he'd become at doing magic. No longer at the bottom of the class, he was now firmly fourth best spell caster among the Gryffindor First Years. Harry was proud to say he was second best. Hermione, of course, was number one.
It didn't help much with his potion work, sadly, but there was only so much one could do when you had Professor Snape as a teacher.
It was mid-November, and the air was growing colder, and the leaves were almost all gone from the trees in the Forbidden Forest.
At the moment, the group was walking down the yard, eager to have another chat with Hagrid. Ever since they'd fought a troll, the four Gryffindor's and two Hufflepuffs had wanted to know more about magical creatures. And, since Care of Magical Creatures was only for Third Years, that meant chatting with Hogwart's half-giant Groundskeeper.
"I hope he's in, I'm freezing," Susan muttered, shivering as a chill autumn wind blew past.
"Where else would he be?" Ron asked with a frown. "This is his home."
"He could be tending to the animals for Care of Magical Creatures. I understand he does a lot of that, since Professor Kettleburn is getting old and losing limbs," Hannah said.
"Kettleburn… he's the professor with two wooden legs, a hook hand, and a fake nose?" Harry inquired.
"Yes, he usually sits at the far end of the table with the other electives teachers," Susan confirmed.
"Is it weird that the Hogwarts staff is so small?" Harry asked his friends. "It feels small to me with only one teacher per subject."
"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "There aren't that many students, so why have more teachers?"
"There's like a hundred or so students per year, except for ours. That's nearly seven-hundred students, minimum! My old school had dozens of teachers, at least one for every twenty students, and it still felt like there weren't enough for all of us."
"As much as I agree with Harry, I think we're getting side tracked," Hermione piped up as the six of them reached the simple log cabin that was Hagrid's home.
Harry stepped up and knocked on the door, which resulted in a flurry of excited barks from the other side. A muffled "Down boy!" rang out, and a moment later, the door opened up, revealing Hagrid, who beamed down when he saw the children.
"Ah, yer right on time! Come in, come in!" he said, urging the group to enter. He held Fang, the massive boarhound, back with one hand, as he was trying to get closer and lick the students faces.
"Hullo, Hagrid. Hullo, Fang," Harry greeted as he stepped inside the hut, Susan and Neville on his heels. It was small and cozy, if a little cramped due to the number of people within.
Fang panted eagerly, tail wagging rapidly as he saw so many people come inside.
"I got fresh scones fer ya," the half-giant informed them.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Hermione said politely, even though her smile was strained. Nobody else said anything, not trusting themselves to speak as their host brought out a pile of dark brown scones. Well, calling them 'scones' felt disingenuous. They were more like bricks.
"Tea?" Hagrid offered next, and everyone nodded. His scones may have been impossible to consume, but his tea was really very good.
As soon as the Groundskeeper sat down after serving everyone, Fang jumped and plopped down on his lap, refuse to budge.
"How cute!" Susan said, smiling at the sight. Big as Fang was, he looked tiny compared to Hagrid.
"Fang's just jealous o' me spending more time with Fluffy recently," Hagrid chuckled, patting the big dog fondly. He whined sadly, nuzzling closer to his owner.
"Who's Fluffy?" Hannah asked. "Is Fang getting a new friend?"
"Nah, Fluffy's too big to play with little ol' Fang," Hagrid chuckled. Harry and the rest exchanged confused looks. Fang was bigger than most wolves! How much bigger could this other creature possibly be if it made him look small?
"Uh, okay," Ron said slowly. He then picked up one of the rock-like scones, taking a nibble. He winced at the pain in his teeth and quickly put it back down. As he did so, he noticed that a newspaper was being used as a tray for the petrified snack food.
"Huh, looks like Gringotts was broken into," Ron muttered, noticing the date it'd happened. "Nothing was stolen, though. Odd."
"And to think, it happened the day after I visited t' bank fer Dumbledore. Good luck, that," Hagrid chuckled.
"What were you doing for Dumbledore down there?" Susan asked curiously.
"What? Tha's none of yer business!" Hargid spluttered.
"Okay, sorry," Susan said, holding up her hands in surrender. "I was just curious!"
"Well, there's nothing going on! And if there was, it's between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel!" Hagrid harrumphed.
"Uh-huh," Hermione said with a suspicious frown, which was shared with Harry and the rest.
"So! Hagrid! I've heard about this thing called a Mooncalf," Harry spoke up, changing the subject. "What can you tell us about them?"
An hour and a half later, Harry and his group departed from Hagrid's hut, full of tea and ridiculously dense scones.
"So…" Harry said, trailing off as they got closer to the doors of Hogwarts. "Anyone else suspicious about how, uh, odd Hagrid was acting?"
"It was very strange," Hermione agreed.
"He's terrible at keeping secrets," Ron commented.
"I know that look," Neville said, narrowing his eyes at Harry, Hermione, and Ron. "You want to investigate what he was talking, don't you?"
"Yup," Harry said with a nod.
"Why not?" Susan replied.
"Yeah, could be fun," Hannah said with a grin. "Anyone wanna bet it has something to do with the off-limits corridor on the third floor?"
"No way, that's a suckers bet," Ron scoffed.
"Yeah, that was kinda obvious," the blonde Hufflepuff pouted.
"Third floor hallway… why there?" Harry wondered. "Couldn't someone just go to the fourth or second floor and remove some flagstones, see what's in going on that way?"
"Probably not," Hermione said. "According to Hogwarts: A History, the castle is charmed to be indestructible, and it cannot even be modified without the Headmaster's permission. I don't think we'd be able to break through the floors above or below the third-floor corridor."
"Is there anything even on the third floor?" Neville wondered. "Charms and Transfiguration are on the fourth floor, History on the second, Defense is on the first, the dungeons have Snape and potions, the Astronomy is self-explanatory, and the Greenhouses for Herbology are outside. Dunno where the other classes are taught."
"Runes is on the first floor," Hermione helpfully supplied. "But that's just because that's where the Runesmithing workshop is located."
"Come to think of it, you're right, there aren't any classes on the third floor. Anyways, we were talking about how suspicious it was when Hagrid clammed up after mentioning 'Nicholas Flamel,'" Hannah said. "And how weird he got with discussing Fluffy, whoever they are."
"Nicholas Flamel… I feel like I've heard that name before," Neville muttered to himself.
"Me too," Ron agreed. "It's on the tip of my tongue…"
"I could ask Edward," Harry suggested after a dive into his Occlumency turned up zero results. "He's pretty knowledgeable."
"But this is a magical world problem," Ron said, confused as to why Harry would ask help from a Squib.
"What about your brothers?" Hermione asked Ron before Harry could respond. "Or what asking your family, Neville, Susan, Hannah?"
"Fred and George don't know anything except pranks," Ron sighed. "And I doubt Percy would help. He's too much a stick in the mud. And Charlie and Bill are busy with their jobs to answer random questions. Mom would be suspicious about the question and probably find out about what we're doing, and then get mad at us."
"My grans not the most forth-coming woman in the world. She prefers me to find my own answers, but it couldn't hurt to try," Neville said with a shrug, and Susan nodded in agreement.
"My aunt is often busy, so I don't want to bother her with this," Susan admitted.
"And my parents aren't the most knowledgeable about magical stuff. Mom prefers the Muggle World after her family and friends died in the war, and dad's a muggle himself," Hannah said.
"Besides, I think that the fewer people who know we're looking into this, the better," Ron argued, folding his arms. "I don't think we should involve anyone else in this."
"That's not a bad idea," Harry admitted. "I mean, I still think we should see if Edward or someone else can help later on, we should definitely keep our lips sealed about why we want this information."
"So, uh, to the library, then?" Hermione asked hopefully, and everyone else shared amused looks before Ron nodded.
"Yes, Hermione, to the library."
She grinned, and began to skip off to the massive repository of books, eager to start looking for tomes and the knowledge within. Harry had a feeling it would be hard to pry her out of there even with all of them working together.
&& && &&
LINE BREAK
Dumbledore POV
'And there we go,' Dumbledore mused to himself quietly as he levitated the cloth-covered mirror over to its spot in the corner of an old, disused room.
Setting up the Mirror of Erised here might have seemed like an odd choice, but it was the best place to do so. It was out of the way for any students, and nobody was going to enter the place accidentally. Which was why it was the perfect place to tuck it away until he needed Harry Potter to find it.
He'd have to place the Compulsion charm onto the Potter's cloak around Christmas. The invisibility cloak - which Dumbledore had his suspicions about - was oddly resistant to spells, and anything cast onto it would fade rapidly. Even the strongest charms wouldn't last a month, which was unusual, to say the least.
Still, he had doubts that it would take that long for Harry Potter to try on the cloak. And the next time the boy needed to hide while wearing the cloak, it would guide him to this very room, where he'd find the mirror.
It was perhaps cruel, to taunt a child with the impossible dreams locked away behind the mirror's surface, but he needed to do it. Harry Potter needed to have his desires revealed and tested. Dumbledore needed to weaken the boy's resolve, fill him with hope and the desire to be loved. Only then, would he be able to defeat Voldemort.
Love. Such a strange thing. Powerful. Fickle. Able to move men to do great but also terrible things. And it was something Voldemort had never known. Either as Tom Riddle or the Dark Lord. But Harry did. Even if but a brief moment, Harry Potter had known true love, and this would be the key to defeating Britain's latest threat.
Dumbledore had checked, of course. The barrier of pure love Lily Potter had managed to cast upon her son was still intact - and he was quite curious how a mere Muggleborn had found a way to cast a lost spell only mentioned of in the oldest texts - and the old headmaster had a feeling it was going to be vital in the fight against Voldemort.
With a nod to himself, Dumbledore confirmed his plans with the boy and the mirror. When Christmas rolled around, he would charm the cloak and send it to the boy. Then, Harry would discover the mirror. A discreet ward would let the headmaster know when Harry showed up. And then he could guide the boy to the right decision and mindset needed for victory in the future.
And once that was done, Dumbledore would move the mirror to the last room in his trap for Voldemort. Or rather, Quirrell.
He snorted to himself. Did Tom really think he could hide from him that easily? It was admittedly a novel approach to bypassing the wards around Hogwarts by possessing the poor professor, but Dumbledore had picked up plenty of tricks in his century-plus of life. The turban the DADA teacher wore was used by Middle Eastern mages to bind and obscure spirits. The scent of garlic would cover up the stink of rot as the poor man's body broke down. And
But it served Dumbledore's goals to have the Dark Lord believe he had fooled him. And then, he would hide the stone in the mirror shortly before the end of school, which would force the possessed professor to hurry to steal it.
'And which any luck, I'll be able to convince Harry to go after him. Yes, an early confrontation with Voldemort will galvanize the boy. It will be good for him,' Dumbledore mused. And it would be a good test for the Boy-Who-Lived as well. Would he also fail to retrieve the stone? Or would it be locked away from him as well?
Dumbledore couldn't help but think of his old mentor as he thought about the mystical artifact he'd be using as bait. Nicholas Flamel had surrendered the Philosopher's Stone far more easily than he'd expected, but it was understandable. Perhaps not to men like Tom, but Dumbledore completely understood why the alchemist and his wife would want to go out on their own terms. The old wizard wondered when he'd be able to do the same?
'Only when my work is done,' Dumbledore thought to himself. The Magical World had to survive. And if two young men had to die for that to happen? So be it.
&& && &
Chapter 25: Chapter 25: Yule Tidings
Chapter Text
Chapter 25: Yule Tidings
Harry POV
Harry had assumed it would be easy to find information on their target. Yet weeks would pass in vain, however, and Harry and his friends found bupkiss on Nicholas Flamel. The library was an impressive repository of knowledge, but it was poorly organized. No Dewey Decimal System, no standardized method of sorting, and quite a few books were handwritten, making it hard to read if the author had atrocious writing.
And while they researched Nicholas Flamel in secret, winter break snuck up on them.
"Don't worry, Hermione, we can keep searching when you get back," Harry consoled his bushy-haired friend. She was preparing to leave to catch the Hogwarts Express back to London to spend Christmas with her parents.
Hermione wasn't the only member of the group leaving, either. Neville, Susan, and Hannah were all heading home for the break.
"I suppose," she sighed heavily. She then shot Harry a concerned look. "Will you be fine on your own here over break?"
"I won't be alone, I'll have Ron with me," Harry replied. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him at that, and the Boy-Who-Lived snorted in amusement.
"Alright, but remember, you don't have to play chess with him every time he asks, alright?" Hermione reminded him.
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said dryly. He then gave Hermione a hug which she returned, and she hurried off to the platform.
Behind her came Susan and Hannah, and he gave them farewell hugs as well.
"See ya, Harry," Susan said as she let go of Harry. "We're all an owl away!"
"I can't wait to see what you've gotten me as a Christmas gift, Harry," Hannah said with a teasing smile.
Susan smacked her friend's arm for that, but the blonde just grinned unrepentantly. Harry chuckled.
"You'll like it," he promised.
"I'll hold you to that!" she giggled.
"Sorry about her," Susan apologized as Hannah skipped off.
"Nah, it's fine. Her bluntness is refreshing," Harry assured her. "See you later, Susan. And don't worry, I got you a gift, too."
She blushed at that, and ran off after Hannah as her fellow Hufflepuff whistled at her.
The next one to say goodbye was Neville. As he and Neville were blokes, they said farewell by shaking hands, wishing each other a Merry Christmas.
And with that, Hogwarts felt a little bit emptier. Colder, too, though Harry was fairly certain that was due to the open door leading out of the castle.
He decided to warm up in the Gryffindor common room, and found Ron and his brothers already in there.
"Hermione says 'Hi,'" Harry said. "She also says 'Bye.' Neville, Susan, and Hannah also just left."
"Hmm? Oh, sorry I missed saying goodbye. But Scabbers wasn't feeling well," Ron said, holding up his pet rat. It did look under weather, shivering a bit in Ron's hands.
"Well, hopefully he gets better soon," Harry said.
"Harry!" Fred (or was it George?) said, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulder. "We happened to hear-"
"-from sources who shall remain anonymous-" continued George (or maybe Fred?) who got onto Harry's other side.
"-that a certain Puff was sad to see you go," the other twin finished.
"Yes?" he said, an eyebrow raised. "That is what happened."
The twins shared a look and a grin, then said "Nothing!" simultaneously before walking off, laughing to themselves.
"What was that about?" Harry asked Ron.
"Dunno. I try not to understand my brothers, lest I go mad," Ron replied with a shrug.
"Huh," Harry hummed. "Well, I need to go wrap some presents. I'll be in the dorm. No peeking!"
"I won't," Ron promised.
Harry hurried up to his dorm, and got out the presents he'd bought for his friends. He had wrapping paper and tape – provided by a helpful House Elf – and quickly wrapped up the gifts for his friends.
A giddy feeling ran through Harry's chest, and a smile crept unbidden onto his face. He couldn't help it. Thinking about his friends, and realizing he actually had some after so long, still managed to make his happy, even after all this time.
'Sometimes I'm afraid I will wake up, and this will all have been a beautiful, fleeting dream,' Harry thought to himself as he hid the wrapped presents away under his bed.
Once he was finished, he walked back to the common room, and sat down across from Ron.
"Want to play a game of chess?" Harry offered, and Ron lit up eagerly.
After everyone left for winter break, the castle felt empty. The corridors echoed ominously, and the crinkle-crackle of ice could be heard from every window. And Harry wasn't sure if it was Hogwarts playing a trick on people, or if maybe his imagination was acting up, but he could have sworn that the moving staircases were taking him to a certain area of the Third Floor more often than not.
He never lingered, of course. Dumbledore had said that that particular corridor was off-limits, and he wasn't willing to go exploring with just Ron. No, he'd rather have a full party if he was going to be starting trouble.
Harry instead spent his time playing and hanging out with the Weasleys. Even Percy occasionally joined in, though that only happened whenever he and Ron were catching up on their winter assignments.
Despite the emptiness, Hogwarts was still lively, and Harry got to know both the castle and its caretakers a lot more. Harry would sometimes sneak down to the kitchens to talk with the House Elves. He'd been curious about them ever since he'd first met Inky, Edward's House Elf, and found them to be a strange if charming folk. Could do without all the bowing and scraping, though.
He also spoke to some of the ghosts, and found some interesting rooms scattered about. Harry'd had no idea that Hogwarts had its own indoor Squash court. Or that it had two ateliers for painting. Sadly, none of them were in use. He'd been curious to find out more about the magical portraits that littered the castle.
And then, as if time had just flown by, it was finally dawn of December the 25th, and the only two boys in the Gryffindor First Year dorms woke up as the first sliver of light entered their bedroom.
"Whoa!" Ron gasped, looking over the pile of gifts the House Elves had left for them at the foot of each bed.
Harry could only nod his head numbly in silent agreement with Ron, shocked to see this many gifts. He'd thought the handful of presents Edward and Sam had given him last year had been a lot, but this amount… he'd never imagined getting so many gifts in his life!
"What should we open first?" Ron asked, already sifting through the pile.
"How about each other's gifts?" Harry suggested, which received a bob of the head.
For Harry, he received a book called 'Quidditch Through the Ages!' from Ron, which detailed all of the Quidditch teams, both past and present, as well as some of the more famous events in the sport.
Ron's gift from Harry was a new wizarding chess set. It was expertly carved and Harry didn't have to be a Seer to know Ron would be getting a lot of use out of it.
The rest of the presents they opened up were just as thoughtful. Hermione got Harry a book of history that included the various contributions the Potter Family had made for Wizarding Britain. Neville sent Harry a carton of magical playing cards for something called Exploding Snap. Hannah gave him a magical hat that was supposed to be able to keep his unruly hair under control, while Susan sent him a broom care kit. Edward had surprised Harry by sending him a sack of Muggle candy, and even Hagrid had gotten him a hand-carved wooden flute. And when Harry saw the sweater Mrs. Weasley had made for him, Harry couldn't help but tear up.
As for the presents Harry had gotten for his friends, Hermione received a book about more in-depth magical history, Neville got a collection of seeds for his garden back home, while Hannah and Susan both got customized boxes of chocolates. Hagrid got a giant pair of mittens, and Edward would be getting a bunch of materials he could do runecrafting with.
"Hey, Harry, you missed one," Ron said, and Harry noticed that he had indeed missed a gift. It was a small, bundle of cloth that he'd nearly mistaken for part of his sheets. If not for Ron spotting the simple bit of twine tying it up, he might have missed it entirely.
"What is it?" Harry wondered, picking it up. As he did so, the twine unraveled, and the item he was holding unfolded.
It was a cloak made of a shimmering, almost translucent silk-like substance, and a tiny postcard sized note was tucked away in its folds.
'This belonged to your father, and was in my safe keeping. Use it well,' Harry read off the card, frowning. This was a Potter heirloom? He wasn't entirely versed on The Rules wizarding society played by, but thanks to Neville and Susan he knew it was considered a faux pas at best to keep something that wasn't yours and had been loaned out, as it was clear this item had been from the context of the note.
"Wicked, mate! That's an Invisibility Cloak!" Ron gasped when Harry tried on the shimmering sheet of fabric by wrapping it around his shoulders.
"Oh, wow!" Harry uttered, staring down at his now invisible upper torso. "This was my dad's?"
'Why didn't he have this when Voldemort attacked us?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. 'Could my parents have escaped if they'd had this at the time?'
He shook his head rapidly a moment, clearing out the dark thoughts. Now was not the time for that!
"Should we go see if Fred and George are up yet?" Harry asked, holding up the cloak. Ron's grin turned wicked. It was time for the pranksters to become the pranked!
After scaring the daylights out of the twins (and waking them up, but that had always been a secondary objective) the boys went down to the Great Hall to enjoy the food laid out for them.
'I wonder how Edward's Christmas is going?' Harry wondered as he tucked into the sumptuous Christmas feast the House Elves of Hogwarts had prepared for everyone still in the castle. 'I hope he's having a good time!'
&& && &&
"This was supposed to be an easy Christmas," I muttered to myself. "No relatives to bring me down, fun times with Sam and his family, and the knowledge that things were going my way for once keeping my spirits up through the long, cold nights."
I quickly reloaded the stolen handgun I had in my grasp as my breath came out in harsh, unsteady bursts. I was hiding behind a pillar in a parking garage, which was riddled with bullet holes. The crunch of broken glass alerted me to the presence of someone approaching, and I tensed up, fury bubbling away in my gut.
"I was not supposed to be doing any of this today!" I uttered with a snarl, rolling out of cover and aiming at the men in black suits who were pointing their own assortment of guns at my hiding spot.
"DIE!" I shouted at them, pulling the trigger.
No, this was not how I wanted my Christmas to go at all!
Chapter 26: Chapter 26: Christmas Crimes (Part 1)
Chapter Text
Chapter 26: Christmas Crimes (Part 1)
"How do I look?" I asked, showing off my handsome face to Inky, who squinted up at me.
The elderly House Elf then wiggled his fingers and my tie adjusted itself, straightening out. A second waggle smoothed out the creases on my suit, and then my hair got tidied up imperceptibly.
"Now you look good, Young Master Eddy," Inky said with a fond smile. He then snapped his fingers, summoned a Polaroid Camera, then took a picture of me for mother's sake. I had no doubt she'd have the picture framed by the time I came over for Christmas morning tomorrow.
"Thank you, Inky," I said, flashing him a grin in return.
I was wearing a charcoal black suit with a wine-red tie and a snow-white pocket square tucked into my breast pocket. There were runes sewn into the whole suit which boosted its stain and tear resistance. I could hack at it with a chainsaw and it wouldn't be hurt! For a few minutes, anywhere. It also had temperature regulating runes, which kept me from sweating like a pig if it got too hot, or freezing my pants off if it got too cold.
My tie was no slouch when it came to rune work either. Stain resistant – of course – and possessing a poison detection rune, it would tighten around my neck slightly if I got too close to anything toxic. I could also use it as a compass, using the tip of the tie to find directions.
Though my personal favorite bit of rune crafting was on my rings. I'd finished my Bullet Time ring, which let me dip into ten seconds of slowed down perception. But there was also my second ring I'd been working on. It was imbued with Lumos and Nox spells, meaning I could create light, and take it away.
I also had another piece of trick jewelry in the form of a pocket watch. A tiny vial of Essence of Dittany was hidden within it, so I could heal myself up if something managed to bypass my armored clothing.
Now, you might be wondering why I was decked out to the nines in a fancy suit. The answer was simple! I'd received an invitation from the Finch-Fletchleys to attend a Christmas Party being hosted at a fancy hotel. There would be a lot of chances to meet rich people, and potential investors and customers.
I'd been selling Mrs. Finch-Fletchley a number of my cosmetic products to use, and she'd had glowing reviews for them. I'd gotten a bunch of orders from her friends, and their families.
The extra patronage had made me busy, and I'd managed to get a lot of work done since Harry had gone to Hogwarts. My studies had led me to brand-new runic configurations, and I'd finally found a recipe to create a hair growth balm out of cheap, mostly non-magical ingredients. Namely, barley flour and bear fur. Although the latter wasn't as cheap or easy to get as the former.
Unfortunately, there was a small set back. I still hadn't found a way to turn my potions into pills without them losing most or all of their magical effects, but that was always going to be a long-time work goal. But now I was ready to work on my next step for my business; a store.
My savings were modest, but if I wanted to expand the business, I'd need more capital. Investing in a building was important. With it, I'd have a place to set up and increase potion production as well as a way to show off more products.
Of course, before that, I had to get more customers and people interested in my product. And that was where this party would help.
I gave Inky a nod, and held out a hand to him. Just like the time with the country club, Inky popped away, taking me with him. I appeared in a side alley near the hotel, and walked into it from the street, my runic clothes letting me ignoring the biting chill of the winter evening.
Flashing my invitation to the man at the doors, I strode confidently into the hotel and quickly found the ballroom that had been repurposed for the party. Entering, I spotted the Finch-Fletchleys over by a lovely ice sculpture of a swan. Odd choice for Christmas Party décor in my opinion, but I walked over all the same, smiling at the family I'd come to know in the past couple of months.
"Edward! So glad you could join us!" Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, welcoming me with a hearty slap on the back.
"You look lovely," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley commented. "I love your tie!"
"Thank you, you all look good as well," I said with a nod.
"Justin, this is Edward Rose," his mother said, introducing the two of us. "He will be your tutor over the summer to catch you up on your 'normal' studies."
"I remember meeting you," he said, shaking my hand, while recalling me from the Diagon Alley tour. "You were with Harry Potter, weren't you?"
"Yup," I said with a nod. "I'm a neighbor of his, and we attended the same school before he got his letter."
I then tilted my head. "How is he doing?"
"Pretty good. Got sorted into Gryffindor with me. He's pretty chummy with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, as well as two girls from Hufflepuff. Those are other First Years, by the way."
"I remember Hermione from the tour. Bushy hair, correct? Parents are dentists?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked.
"That's correct," I nodded, pleased that Harry sounded to be doing well. And with a larger friend group than in canon, too! "Now, what's the plan for tonight? And who would you suggest talking to?"
"I'd suggest staying away from anyone who says they'll offer you a contract immediately," Mr. Finch-Fletchley suggested. "And of course, you'll need to be wary of anyone slipping in unreasonable terms to the contracts once you do eventually decide on a partner."
"Is that likely to happen?" I asked, and Justin snorted in amusement, before quailing under his mother's scathing glare.
"They won't out and say it or be obvious, but yes, more than a few will try and fleece you," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said with a chuckle, ignoring the look his wife shot him. He responded by simply raising an eyebrow at her. "Come now, dear, you know it's true. The people here didn't get rich by being nice."
"Yes, but there are better ways to say it," she replied.
I glanced down at Justin, and he rolled his eyes up at me.
"These places can be pretty boring," he warned me.
"I figured as much," I replied in a low voice, and he snickered at that.
"Yeah. Don't worry, though. If you want to avoid talking, just have a plate of food in one hand. They'll leave you alone that way."
"Thanks for the advice," I said, giving him grateful nod.
I then proceeded to look about, my eyes sweeping the ballroom, and I took in all of the different people within. It was clear that the rich and powerful of non-magical Britain were here tonight. Not all of them, of course, but a good chunk of the country's movers and shakers had gathered here for the party.
As my gaze roamed about, someone caught my eye. Long platinum blonde hair that could easily be described as 'silver.' Slender and wearing a pearlescent cocktail dress, she looked like a model or actress. That wasn't why my gaze had stopped on her, however.
"What the hell?" I couldn't help but mutter.
"Ah, someone catch your eye?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked, a teasing note in her voice.
"Whoa, that's weird," Justin muttered, seeing the same woman I had. "She looks like an older, female Draco Malfoy!"
"Who?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked.
"He's a first-year in Slytherin. Kind of a bigot and jerk. He's always trying to mess with Harry Potter and his friends," Justin explained.
"And his father is one of those 'undesirable elements' within the Wizengamot," I replied softly.
"One of those 'Death Eaters' you mentioned?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
"Yes," I replied with a solemn nod. "But I don't think… something must be off. The Malfoys are crazy bigoted, they'd never have anything to do with the mundane world. She must be… a Squib."
'Like me,' went unsaid, but Justin and Mr. and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley heard it all the same.
Was she ditched by her family in a mundane orphanage when her lack of magic was discovered? Or was she from a relative of Lucius? She looked to be about my age, but I'd not heard anything about the Malfoys having a child before Draco. Perhaps they covered it up? But even if they had, you'd think there'd be some rumors about it.
'Then again, I didn't really focus on the gossip of the wizarding world after I found out I was a Squib myself,' I mused in the privacy of my mind. 'That was a bit of a mistake, in hindsight. I should ask mother if she knows anything. Later, of course.'
I put those questions to the side for the moment. My curiosity was piqued, but there's a lot of different questions in my mind. Like what her name was, for instance.
I grabbed a pair of drinks from a passing waiter and went up to meet her.
"Hello there, miss," I said casually, offering her one of the drinks. "This may be presumptuous of me, but I must know your name!"
"Delilah Hunt," she said in greeting, giving me a demure, polite smile that was obviously fake as she accepted a drink from me. She didn't drink from it, though.
"Edward Rose," I said with a bit of a bow. "I saw you across the room, and I just had to talk to you."
"What a charmer you are," she giggled airily. She then frowned. "I'm afraid I don't recognize your name."
"Understandable," I said with a nod. "I was invited by the Finch-Fletchleys."
Delilah immediately understood what I was saying, nodding slowly while some of her mask faded away, allowing me to see a flicker of genuine curiosity in her eyes. No doubt she was wondering why I was here.
"Then you must be awfully confused," she said sympathetically. She then offered me her arm. "Why don't I show you around a bit?"
"I would enjoy that," I said.
"Over there is Michael Walton, he's an important member of the Labor Party. He's speaking with Rogan Hull and Carter Landon, entrepreneurial investors," Delilah informed me, pointing to a trio by a decorative palm tree.
"Lord Samuel Tolly works under the Prime Minister, and the woman speaking to him is Sasha Cray, one of the best contract lawyers around. Don't let her cute looks fool you. She's quite crafty."
"And over by the drink table you can spot John Cutler, already halfway to drunkenness, while his poor wife watches," Delilah said with a shake of her head. "Hard to believe he's one of the biggest owners of real estate this side of London."
"Who's that?" I asked, noticing a rather odd sight. He was a wrinkly old man, bald with liver spots all over. He was in a wheel chair, a cashmere blanket covering his legs. He had a grumpy expression, even while conversing with a few other people. What drew my attention to him was the golden, jewel studded rings on his fingers. I couldn't be certain without getting closer, but they may have been magical!
"That is Sir Jonah Briar," the young woman on my arm said, noticing where my eyes had gone. "He made his fortune in pharmaceuticals."
"Pharmaceuticals, you say?" I hummed, intrigued. 'He could be perfect for my medicinal side of the business. And my hair growth balm would need to be carefully examined by the proper authorities before I can sell it widescale. Perhaps I can use him. Especially if he's a fellow Squib like I'm assuming he is.'
"I take it you know him?" I asked, and she nodded.
"My father is on the board of his company."
"Ah, a business man, then," I mused. "Is your father here, tonight?"
"Not at all," Delilah chuckled. "Everyone knows my father and Mr. Briar can't stand each other."
I made a quiet hum in understanding. "So, your father is using you to do his duties here, then?" I guessed.
"You catch on quick," she smirked.
"Well, if you're going to schmooze and mingle, you shouldn't do it on an empty stomach," I offered, leading Delilah over to the buffet table. "I saw mini quiches on the way over."
"You have some lovely ideas," she chuckled. "Lead the way."
As the night progressed, Delilah and I spent most of it together. There was something about her that piqued my interest, and it was more than just because she resembled the Malfoys. Honestly, she had a caustic wit and a sharp tongue, but also had a surprisingly crass sense of humor that had me nearly choking on my champagne.
And thanks to her, I was able to talk to quite a few people for a lot longer than I normally would be able to. And I grabbed ahold of that opportunity with both hands to dazzle them.
"…and that's why I think that the European governments' fiscal policy is going to eventually run into a lot of trouble," I said, relying on some of my previous world's knowledge of the introduction of the upcoming Euro and European Union. "It's simply too ambitious and will force the richer countries to constantly bail out the badly managed and poorer ones."
"Hmm, yes, I can see how that monetary policy could indeed cause some friction," a member of the Parliament mused thoughtfully. "But surely the proposed European Union will have some good changes?"
"Oh, no doubt, and the idea to open up borders to allow free passage between member countries of the EU will definitely bring in a lot of much needed trade and tourism, but it will no doubt cause a jump in crime as people hop between nations," I replied. "And I imagine France will end up leading whatever coalition winds up forming in Europe, or at least be one of its loudest voices. It's simply too wealthy, and Germany too recently freed from the Iron Curtain, for any other country aside from our own to oppose any policies it comes up with."
"That is true, the wealthier countries will always lead, and the rest will follow," the Parliament member said with a nod. "I'm quite surprised to hear such a well thought out overview of the international scene from such a young man. Pleased, too, of course, but surprised. Do you have any plans for furthering your education?"
"Yes, I plan on attending Oxford for my future studies upon graduating high school," I said to the government official, and he bobbed his head, sending a glance to Miss Hunt who was still by my side.
"If I'm not mistaken, you are already attending Oxford, correct, Miss Hunt?" he inquired, and Delilah nodded back demurely.
"That is correct, Lord Bennington," she said. "I started my first year earlier in October."
"I went to Oxford myself as a young lad. Good school. Why, I tell you…" he then went off on a tangent about his younger days, and I listened politely but with only half an ear. Eventually Delilah saved us both.
"Oh, is that Winston Westforth? I must go meet him and give him my father's greetings," Delilah said, tugging me away from the chatty lord.
"Thank you!" I whispered to her gratefully.
"Lord Bennington is a bit of a windbag," she admitted in a low voice. "I thought I would fall asleep if he kept talking about his time on the rowing team!"
"Well, let's hope Mr. Westforth is less talkative," I hummed.
"Oh, he is," Delilah said in relief. "But before we go over there, I need something to drink."
We grabbed flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter, and also decided to grab some finger food from the buffet before approaching Mr. Westforth.
A rather sharp edge on one of the decorative fake flowers near a platter of shrimp puffs caused Delilah to hiss and jerk her right hand back. I saw a droplet of blood well up on the tip of her index finger, and frowned.
"That's no good, we should get it fixed up," I said, grabbing her right hand to inspect the wound.
"It's fine, just a paper cut," she said, blushing a bit as I held her hand. "A nick at best."
"It wouldn't do to leave it alone, either," I replied, still not letting go. I pulled from one of my enchanted pockets a small jar of medicinal Wiggenweld Cream, and smeared a dab of the blue cream over her injured finger.
"Just leave it alone for a bit, and it should be healed by the end of the party," I assured her.
"Thank you," she said.
I waved it off as no big deal, but I could tell she appreciated my gesture from the way she nodded happily afterwards.
We chatted with a few other people for a bit, even swinging around to the Finch-Fletchleys for a brief stint. During which, I was pulled away by Justin's mother while Delilah spoke with her husband.
"So, how has your evening been?" she asked with an amused smile. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she just smirked back.
"Well, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley…"
"Please, call me Josephine," she chuckled. "My full name is such a mouthful, after all. And call my husband 'Earl.'"
"Of course, Josephine," I said, conceding. "Anyways, it's been going well."
"You've been treating Delilah well, I hope?" she inquired.
"Of course," I said with a nod.
"She's a good girl. Very dutiful, even if her father is a boor and her mother a pushover," Josephine said with a sad shake of her head. "It's been a while since she's actually smiled at one of these events."
She then narrowed her eyes at me. "I am good friends with her mother. Don't make her cry, understood?"
"Of course not," I assured her. "Besides, it's only platonic."
"That's what all youngsters say," Josephine chortled. "That, or they're convinced their crushes are 'true love.'"
"Yeah, you don't have to worry about that," I said, wincing. Being a man in a teen's body had been… awkward, to say the least.
'Thank whatever gods exist Occlumency helped with controlling my freaking emotions and hormones,' I thought to myself. Being attracted to younger women was still weird, as I felt mentally older than I actually was physically, but I could deal with it like a mature adult that I technical both was, and wasn't.
"Come along, then, you best return to your gentlemanly duties of escorting Delilah about," Josephine snickered, before leading me back to the group and passing me back to the silver-haired young woman.
After that meeting with the Finch-Fletchleys – and promising Justin I'd be seeing him this summer for extra lessons – the event started to wind down. Delilah held back the urge to yawn, and I snickered a bit at the sight.
"It's getting late," I pointed out, pretending to be completely innocent when she shot a suspicious glare my way.
"It is. I best be preparing to leave. My ride was going to be here at half past ten, and that only a few minutes away," Delilah hummed as she glanced over at a wall mounted clock.
"Shall I escort you out?" I offered, and she smiled at me, this time showing a genuine one, before a teasing one quickly replaced it.
"How properly gentlemanly of you," she said, but she didn't let go, and so I took her to the coat room so she could grab her warm jacket to protect against the dismal December chill. Then we both walked outside, where her car would pick her up.
As we waited, we chatted a bit more to keep our minds off the cold. It wasn't snowing yet, but I had the feeling it wouldn't be long before London had itself a White Christmas.
"I cannot believe it," she murmured, looking at her finger. The cut she'd gotten had been small, but thanks to my medicine, there was already no trace of so much as a scratch on her.
"An old family recipe," I claimed proudly. "It's quite fascinating what old knowledge just might be applicable to modern day problems."
"My father would definitely be interested in these products of yours if they're all as incredible as this one," Delilah claimed, marveling at how quickly the cut had healed. "It's almost magical!"
"I know right?" I said with a chuckle.
"I will see about setting up a meeting with him," she declared, giving me a nod. "If nothing else, he will desire to have you on his side before his opponents on the board can steal you away for themselves."
"That's the way business works," I said with a shake of my head. "Ruthless."
"It can be," she said, then perked up as a car drew up to the hotel's curb. "There's my ride."
Delilah walked up to it, and was about to open the door, when she paused, a frown slipping onto her face as she stared into the tinted windows at the driver.
"You're not…" she began, but was cut off as the window was rolled down and a pair of hands lashed out and pulled her inside the vehicle.
"What the hell?!" I exclaimed, and immediately started to run over to her, but froze as I found a gun pointing right at my chest. I blinked, and then staggered back as a loud "Bang!" tore through the still night air.
I fell onto my ass as Delilah began shouting for someone to save her. Or maybe she was shouting for someone to help me? I couldn't tell as the car immediately drove off, escaping from the hotel parking lot with a squeal of tires.
'Kidnappers?' I thought in disbelief while clutching my chest and lying on the side of the road. Even if my suit protected me from bullets, being shot still hurt like a bitch.
I pushed my incredulity aside and staggered to my feet, a scowl slipping onto my face. Delilah had just been abducted right in front of me, and someone had tried to murder me to cover it up!
Well, joke was on them! They weren't dealing with the average schmuck! I was a teenager with the mind of an adult and a house full of magical stuff at my disposal.
"You won't get away this!" I vowed darkly, before staggering to the nearby alleyway, the bullet that'd hit me clinking to the ground. I could hear shouting and screams from the people back at the hotel, and they were no doubt already calling the police.
'Like hell I'm going to let anybody but me find those bastards!' I declared to myself.
"Inky!" I snarled out, and he popped up in front of me. His already wide eyes widened further, before a dark expression crossed over his face.
"Young Master Eddy! What happened?!"
"Can you trace something back to its owner?" I demanded, and he blinked.
"Inky can, under certain circumstances."
"There's a bullet back there," I said, jerking my thumb towards the spot I'd been shot. "Can you use magic to find the person who use it to shoot me?"
"Inky can try," the House Elf replied, scrunching his eyes up.
"If you can't, then go into the hotel and find some hair from a silver-haired woman named Delilah Hunt. Use that to find the girl they kidnapped," I requested. "Oh, and if you can modify memories, do so. Make it so that nobody remembers it was me who got shot tonight."
"Inky will obey," he said solemnly.
"Wait!" I said before he could pop away. "Take me back home, first."
He bobbed his head, and a second later I was back in my apartment, alone as Inky left to do as I'd asked. While he was gone, I began to load up on potions, runic equipment, and enchanted items.
I was not going to let anybody get away with shooting me, nor would I tolerate somebody kidnapping a woman right before my eyes. This? This was now personal.
Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Christmas Crimes (Part 2)
Chapter Text
Chapter 27: Christmas Crimes (Part 2)
"Okay, I think… this will do," I muttered as I looked over my stock of magical items. There were potions, but I was hesitant to bring them with me. Too fragile. I still put a few potions into small plastic bottles just because they were too useful to not bring with me, and the plastic containers were better than nothing, even if – for reasons I still couldn't figure out – the potions would degrade in effectiveness over the course of a few hours due to not being stored in glass.
'I'll have to splurge and get some vials with Unbreakable charms on them,' I mused, thinking of the future for a moment. 'My best bets are the runic artifacts and Ofuda.'
The former were items I'd carved with runes to do various tasks. I even had a few that were basically magical bombs. Toss 'em and forget about 'em. Same for the Ofuda, which were Japanese talismans inscribed with a unique rune language based on Japan's Kanji.
The ink used to inscribe the magical arrays had been mixed with a few potions and my own blood, to provide the magical energy necessary to even use them. But they were more versatile than the runic devices, as I'd been able to make Sealing type Ofuda that were basically one-use stunners. And a couple Fire type that would set whatever they attached to on fire.
I gathered them all up, in the end. Better to have them than not need them. Only ten of each, though.
My runic rings would be going with me as well, but I also put on a pair of fake glasses that I considered to be my best work yet.
They had a trio of potent spells woven into them; a Bubble Head charm, a Shield Charm centered around the head and neck that was anchored to the Bubble Head charm to protect me like a transparent astronaut's helmet, and a facial obscuring hex that made it hard to identify me so long as I was wearing said glasses. It sadly wouldn't fool cameras or electronic videos, but that was a problem for another day to be dealt with.
What it would do was protect me against being shot in the head. I'd gotten lucky earlier with the gunman choosing to pop a round in my enchanted suit instead of my face, but I wasn't going to let that happen again.
'Oh, and I'll be able to breath underwater or in a smoke-filled room, so that's also nice,' I mused as I adjusted them. It felt weird to wear glasses, as I'd never needed them in my previous life either, but I would put up with the discomfort.
'Perhaps a Cushioning charm on the bridge of the nose?' I pondered to myself.
I then slid a couple bundles of Stunner Ofuda into a pair of modified faux-leather deck holders. They were originally designed to hold a deck of cards each, but I had added straps so they could hang off my belt or across my chest, bandolier style. This way, I could draw my paper talismans with ease.
A pair of sturdy hiking boots was next. A Cushioning charm rune set kept them nice and comfy, while also letting me jump and land on me feet without breaking my legs, at least from a height of ten feet or less. And of course there was a Muffling charm to hide any noise I could make.
Gloves were next. These were my most offensive runic creations besides the rune bombs. Made of greyish Mountain Troll hide, I had woven ancient runes for Great Strength onto them, making me capable of lifting close to a thousand pounds with them. And punching with as much force. If I hit somebody at full strength, they would be lucky to only get bruises, and not broken bones.
Last but not least, I got out my bag of fortune telling bones. You never knew when a bit of Divination could come in handy, and I'd been getting better at using this particular method of observing the future. I tied the velvet bag full of knuckle bones to my belt, ready to use them at a moment's notice.
There was a dangerous amount of magic in my combat outfit, not to mention all the magical modifications in my muggle items, which was technically illegal since I planned on using it against other muggles, and if I was caught by an auror carrying even half of this stuff, I'd be thrown in Azkaban faster than you can say 'Dementor!'
But I didn't care that there was a fiendish amount of power at my fingertips, nor that it was illegal to even try and fight against muggles with it. I was going to save Delilah without hesitation!
As I was getting my battle supplies ready, Inky popped back in with a remorseful look on his face.
"Inky is sorry, Young Master Eddy," the Hunch family House Elf apologized. "Inky could not use the bullet to trace the bad muggles."
"Hmm, it's alright, Inky, it was a long shot anyways," I said with a sigh. "Did you find any of the kidnapped victim's hair, at least?"
"Inky did," the House Elf proclaimed, proudly holding up a single silver strand.
"Good," I muttered, and began to prepare a special potion. This one used up a good chunk of my available magical ingredients, but when I was done, I had a Tracking Potion.
I dropped Delilah's hair into the potion, where it sizzled and went from a murky brown to a bright silver-white. Then, it started to glow yellow.
I poured the potion into a bottle, and held it up to the light. The Tracking Potion was sort of like Sting from the Hobbit. It glowed in the presence of the person it was tracking. I would be using it as a poor man's Tracking Spell to divine her location.
Next, I spread out a map of London, and placed a single drop of the Tracking Potion onto each of the knuckle bone dice. It would take too long to wander about a city like London holding a bottle in one hand and waiting for it to glow brighter as it got closer to Delilah's position, so I was going to have to do a bit of old fashioned Divination work.
"Find Delilah Hunt," I intoned solemnly, tossing the dice across the map. I noted the spots they landed, and wrote down the symbols on the face of the corresponding dice.
"Hmm, no luck," I muttered in annoyance.
It took a few more tosses and half the Tracking Potion before I finally got an exact answer out of the finicky Divination tools. One of my special bone dice had the words 'Yes,' 'No,' and 'Maybe' carved onto its faces, and I grinned madly as I saw that I'd finally narrowed down Delilah's position.
"Here," I uttered, looking at the building my die had landed 'Yes' side up on.
I quickly got out a silver bowl and filled it with water and the last of the Tracking Potion, save a single silver droplet that I carefully stored in a crystal vial. Using the unicorn horn stirring stick, I stirred the contents together to create a crude Scrying effect. In the ripples of the bowl, I could catch glimpses of Delilah. She was trapped. It was hard to tell, but I could make out ropes. And a chair?
There were men. Angry men. I saw a gun being brandished. The contents of the bowl suddenly turned milky white before I could see any more, and I frowned.
"Damn, ran out of power," I grunted in annoyance. "Still, at least I know where she is, now, and that she's alright."
Using the British equivalent of the Yellow Pages to track down the address of the building revealed to me the address my fortune telling dice had landed on was an office building in downtown London.
"There we go," I muttered, a finger running over the address. "The Marlin Building. Has offices that it rents out to a bunch of different companies. Hmm. No time to do a deep investigation. I'll just have to rely on the dregs of the Tracking Potion."
I then turned to Inky. "How close can you get me to this building?" I asked, pointing out the location on the map. In response, the elderly House Elf pointed to a spot that was about four blocks away.
"Alright, then, do it," I commanded, and Inky snapped his fingers, teleporting the both of us away from the apartment.
We appeared in downtown London, hidden in a filthy alleyway that smelled horrific, and that was with the Bubblehead charm on my glasses active!
Grimacing, I glanced down at Inky, who was giving the alleyway an offended look.
"Alright, Inky, I have a few more commands for you," I told him. "When I go in, I want you to protect Delilah, the silver-haired woman that was captured. You are free to do whatever you wish to ensure her safety."
Inky nodded in understanding, and I grinned a bit in relief that he didn't say anything against the order. There were Rules that House Elves had to follow. And that was 'Rules' with a capital 'R.' One major Rule was that House Elves couldn't strike or otherwise try to harm a human, magical or otherwise, with magic, so long as they were bound to a family.
There were ways around this rule, obviously, or Dobby couldn't have – or technically wouldn't be able to, since it was yet to happen in this timeline – enchant the Bludger in Harry's Second Year. In that case, the fact was that Dobby was trying to hurt Harry Potter to save him. A bit of a stretch, but since it worked, that meant Dobby's own magic viewed the threat the Horcrux diary possessed to be great enough that a broken body was acceptable if it meant saving Harry's life.
This meant I could not use Inky to punish the kidnappers, but I could use him to keep the girl safe. There was also another Rule, albeit a lesser one, more of a taboo than a magical enforced order, that stated House Elves couldn't be seen by anyone other than the family they served. Only if their master called for them could a House Elf be seen by guests. Again, easily worked around.
But the main reason I couldn't use Inky to pop in and rescue Delilah and save myself the trouble and danger was the ancient Rule of Guest Rights, a magical law older than the House Elves themselves. Just as vampires cannot enter a building without an invitation, so too can a House Elf not act in another person's home without permission from an owner of said building. And an office building was just enough of a grey area for this Rule that all I could do was have Inky protect Delilah, and that was only possible thanks to Delilah herself being an unwilling 'guest' of the office building in the first place.
Dobby had skirted this law himself when he'd messed with Harry's mail and his aunt and uncle's home by using some very sketchy legal loopholes in the Rules. Loopholes that honestly couldn't have been done by a sane elf. And Dobby was practically insane by House Elf standards already, plus I couldn't put it past the Malfoy's tortured House Elf that the punishments inflicted on him by the Malfoys had weakened the bond between them, leaving him demented and just free enough to be able to bend the Rules so thoroughly.
Taking a deep breath, I strode through the dark and cold streets towards the Marlin Building, righteous fury burning in my chest and keeping me warm alongside my runic enchantments.
As we got close, I took out a potion bottle – one of the few I'd bothered to take with me – and took a deep swig of the oddly tasteless liquid. The next thing I knew, and I was able to see, hear, smell, and even taste everything far better than I usually could. It wasn't a full hundred percent increase for my senses, not with the potion ingredients I had access to, but it wasn't less than fifty percent, either.
With sharper eyes, I could see a few street cameras watching the building as well as a light in one of the upper windows, as well as a thin wisp of smoke from a cigarette drifting out of an alleyway.
I approached, and saw a man taking a smoke break outside near the Marlin Building. He was a tall man with wide shoulders and looked like he had played some rugby in the past what with his broken nose.
I wasn't sure if he was an actual security guard for the building, or if he was working with the kidnappers, as he wasn't wearing any uniform that I could see under his thick winter jacket, but he did have something that made me worried. A gun, stuffed down the back of his pants that I could just barely see with my enhanced vision.
"Is this man with the ones who kidnapped Delilah?" I asked, taking a rune-bone out of the pouch and tossing it on the sidewalk.
The man heard the clatter of the die and looked my way, frowning, but I ignored him as I bent down to inspect it.
'YES' said the fortune-telling die, and I sighed and shook my head as I picked it up.
"Hey, buddy, move along," the smoker told me, but faster than he could react, I twisted my runic ring and drew out an Ofuda, throwing it at him like it was a playing card. Magic crackled to life within the ink as it flew, the Ofuda talisman somehow recognizing it was time to be used (likely by reading my intent as I tossed it) and after less than a second it seemed to turn into a miniature red lightning bolt that zipped through the air before striking the guard's chest with a "Pop!"
He fell, stunned, and after returning my perception of time back to normal, I walked over to him, nudging the man with my boot. He didn't budge, and I checked the talisman that had struck him. It had burnt up upon activation, and all that was left was a bit of ash stuck to his jacket and a scorch mark on said jacket.
I checked his pulse. He was alive. Unconscious, but that was fine. I then rummaged through his pockets, trying to find something useful. I took his gun, of course. It was crazy hard to get a gun in England and I wasn't going to pass up the chance to fiddle around with one. Ideas for runic or potion enhanced bullets danced through my mind.
Alongside a crumpled packet of cigarettes and some gum, I also discovered a keycard, which was hopefully for the door he'd been guarding, and his wallet.
'Well, I'm already acting like a mugger, might as well go the whole nine-yards,' I thought with amusement, stealing the wad of cash he'd had on him at the time.
Once I was done looting his body, I tried the keycard on the slot on the door, and what do you know, it clicked open!
'This feels too easy,' I thought nervously as I stepped inside, but quickly shook my head to clear that thought away. 'No, don't be paranoid!'
After mentally scolding myself, I moved in through the building until I reached the stairs. They were unlocked, and I took them, choosing to ignore the elevators because they were too loud and obvious.
Entering the stairwell, I held out the crystal vial with that last remaining drop of Tracking Potion, and watched as the bead of liquid within glowed brighter when I held it up to the ceiling. Using it as a guide, I followed it up.
Eventually I came to the landing of the third floor, where the glow was brightest. I double-checked by going to the fourth floor's landing, but when it dimmed, I knew she was being held somewhere below.
The staircase's door opened easily at my touch without so much as a creak or groan. Looking about, the third floor consisted of row upon row of offices, with sturdy wooden doors decorated with brass name plaques.
"She's in here somewhere,' I mused to myself, watching the Tracking Potion start to pulse as it got closer to Delilah.
I walked around for a bit, but after peeking around a corner, I had a feeling I knew exactly where she was. The two thugs standing outside an otherwise unremarkable door was a big giveaway as to which room was currently occupied.
Two Stunner Ofuda later and the big men guarding the door dropped like rocks into the hallway.
"What was that?!" a muffled voice from the other side of the door demanded, having heard the thuds the guards had made upon falling, and when it opened, another Stunner Talisman sent him to the ground.
'Is that it?' I wondered, waiting for another person to emerge or investigate. But no, that seemed to be all of them. I sighed a moment later. I'd only had to use four Stunners.
'Honestly, I felt like I might have gone overboard with the preparation,' I thought to myself, looking down at myself in wry amusement (and a smidge of embarrassment) as I was decked out in magical gear.
'They weren't expecting me at all, that's why,' I reasoned away, before shaking those thoughts clear and walking over to now open door, stepping carefully over the unconscious kidnappers.
The interior was a waiting room with a secretary's desk in a corner that was visible as soon as you entered, and I checked the name on the door. 'Michael T. Tompson, Notary,' said the plaque.
The name meant nothing to me, so I shrugged and walked over to the other door and opened it. Delilah was inside Mr. Tompson's office, tied to a chair and looked frightened but also exhausted.
Her head snapped up to me, eyes wide and I saw she was gagged.
"It's alright…" I began, about to reach up and remove my glasses so the enchantment would fade and she'd be able to know it was me, and not someone worse, but when I looked at her, I realized her gaze wasn't on me. In fact, it had shifted to somewhere on my right.
'There's someone behind the God damn door!' I realized, adrenaline pumping through my veins and I started to turn to face the door as well as and crouch at the same time.
It wasn't enough, and someone who'd been hiding behind the door when I opened it fired through the flimsy wood, hitting me in the chest twice, once in the right arm I'd used to open the door with, and the final shot going wide and missing me completely.
I staggered back, left hand catching onto the doorframe so I didn't fall, but it was a close thing. My breath had been driven from my lungs, and my chest and right arm hurt. Like, Bone Breaker Curse hurt, not Stinging Hex hurt. Trust me, I knew the difference thanks to my father.
The bullets did not pierce my rune-reinforced suit, which was the only saving grace, but it still felt like some bones had been cracked by the impact. Bruised at the very least!
"What did you expect?' my snarky internal thoughts demanded as I reached for an Ofuda from my holster. 'It's a freaking bullet, and it hit you point blank! Of course it was going to hurt!'
I ignored my mocking internal chastisements – which sounded far too much like Erroneous Hunch Senior for my liking – and pulled out a Stunner while using my Bullet Time Ring a second time.
Lucky I did, as the gunman who'd shot me stepped out from behind the door – probably to check if he'd killed me. When he appeared in front of me, narrowed, angry eyes slowly widening into shock at my lack of blood and bullet holes, I slapped the Ofuda onto his chest before he could react and smirked gleefully as his body convulsed as the magic flowed into him.
'That was more powerful than usual,' I wondered, then after checking my holster, realized I'd grabbed two Stunner Ofuda without noticing.
I shook my head, ignoring the mistake I'd made, and staggered over to Delilah's side, yanking the gag out of her mouth. She gasped for air, panting a bit, before giving me a confused but grateful look.
"T-thank you," she mumbled. "Who are you? How did you know where I was?"
Then, in a quieter, hopeful voice, "Did my father send you?"
"No, I'm afraid your father didn't ask for my help," I replied as I untied her from the chair. "As for how I knew where you were, and who I am, that's a longer story."
'Note to self, bring a knife next time!' I thought as I fumbled with the knotted rope. 'And maybe work on some Ofuda with the Unlocking Charm in case I ever run into any more locks. I got lucky with the dope outside carrying a keycard.'
"Well, if father didn't send you after me, who did?" Delilah asked. "Although… your voice… it sounds familiar for some reason…"
'Gonna have to work on that,' I mused. 'My glasses can block facial recognition, but can't do anything about someone who hears and remembers my voice.'
"I can't believe my father didn't even bother sending someone after me!" she said darkly, glowering at the ceiling as the ropes fell away. "Shouldn't be surprised, though."
"Um, is it because he's an asshole?" I guessed. He seemed like it from what I'd heard so far. And who else but an asshole wouldn't try and get their daughter back from kidnappers!
Delilah snorted. "That, and he's… not really my father."
"Ah," I said shortly.
"My mother swears she never slept with anybody else, but, well…" she trailed off and waved a hand at her hair. I blinked slowly, and horror dawned on me as I realized why she looked like a gender-bent Lucius Malfoy.
'He raped her mother!' I growled in my head. 'That slimy bastard!'
It fit, sadly. She was seventeen, possibly eighteen, only a bit older than me. She'd have been conceived during the height of the Dark Lord's power, and the Death Eaters had been known to do terrible things to muggles during that time.
'And with a simple Obliviate, none of their victims would ever know,' I thought to myself. 'Those that survived their attention, at least.'
Delilah heaved and sigh and looked down at herself, wincing. "Cannot believe I'm telling a total stranger this," she mumbled to herself, a note of embarrassment leaking out of her voice.
"I'll admit I'm a bit strange, but I'm no stranger," I replied, smirking a bit as I took off my glasses and let her see my face without the spell.
"You?!" she exclaimed, blinking in surprise. "Edward Rose?!"
Delilah's eyes then began to water, and she grabbed me in a crushing hug.
"You're alive! How?!" she sobbed in relief. "I saw the driver shoot you! How are you okay?!"
"Ahh!" I exclaimed in pain as her hug caused me some agony. "Ribs! Watch the ribs!"
"Oh? Oh! My God, you were shot! Again!" Delilah gasped, stepping away and looking at my chest in bewilderment. "Hang on, there's no blood…"
"Bullet proof clothes," I said smugly, before grimacing and grabbing a bottle from utility belt. I chugged the Wiggenweld Potion down, draining half the bottle before sighing as a cooling relief filled my body. If the bones really were broken, I'd have to get some Skele-grow to fix them, but for now the Healing Potion took away the pain.
"And that?" she asked, watching me curiously.
"Pain reliever," I grunted, rubbing the spot on my arm I'd been shot.
"Oh. That's good," Delilah sighed in relief.
"Well, I took care of the goons," I said, waving my hand at the unconscious kidnappers and hostage takers. "Let's get out of here."
Before she could respond, there was a screech of tires outside, and I warily peeked out, Delilah at my side. A big black van had driven up to the curb, and someone got out from the driver's side. They only took a few steps towards the building before pausing, and then they turned and began shouting at someone else in the van.
"They must have noticed the guard I knocked out," I muttered in realization.
"Um, they wouldn't happen to belong to your father, would they?" I asked hopefully as we stared out the window as several more thugs emerged from the van, all sporting handguns.
"No. No, they are not," she replied, biting her lip in worry.
"Bloody hell," I grunted in annoyance. "Looks like this won't be as easy as I hoped."
Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Christmas Crimes (Finale)
Chapter Text
Chapter 28: Christmas Crimes (Finale)
Delilah and I peeled ourselves away from the window, plans for escaping swirling through our minds. Eventually, a crazy thought popped into my mind, and I turned to my new partner in crime.
"How sure are you about getting out the window safely?" I asked. "And then climbing down to the street?"
"Not very," Delilah muttered, squinting at the window in question. "I'm not really dressed for it, either."
A glance at her dress told me it would be a hindrance, and I discarded the first plan I'd cooked up.
"Well, we have to get out of here somehow, we have less than a minute before they storm up the stairs," I muttered. The gunmen from the van had left, and were no doubt in the process of heading up to this floor.
I reached down and grabbed the gun from the man who'd shot me, stealing a spare clip from his pocket and then took Delilah's hand and led her out of the office. I also looted the downed men in the waiting room, taking weapons and ammo as well before leaving.
"Into one of the other rooms," I said in a hiss as we crept out into the hallway, an eye towards the stairwell I'd come from, and was expect the gunmen to emerge from.
"But the doors are locked!" she hissed back.
'Now I really wish I'd made some Alohomora Ofuda,' I grumbled in my mind, before taking a boot to the nearest door, kicking it down.
"Inside!" I ordered, and Delilah scrambled inside, before I followed in after her and closed the door, taking the time to stack some furniture in front of it to block the way.
"That will hold for a moment or two," I said, satisfied, before looking around the new room we'd hidden inside. It was laid out like the previous one; a front room leading to an office in the back. This one had a printer near the front desk, however, and I eagerly pried it open and removed two sheets of paper and one of the ink cartridges.
"What are you doing?" Delilah demanded.
"Saving our bacon," I replied, pulling open the cartridge. "Find me a pen, please!"
She did after a brief bit of searching, handing me a fancy ballpoint pen. I nodded, then stabbed my thumb with the tip, letting my blood drip into the ink from the cartridge. Delilah gasped in shock – and no small amount of confusion – at what I'd just done.
"What the-?!" she uttered, before I shushed her. I then mixed my blood into the ink as best I could, before taking my index finger and dipping it into the concoction.
It wasn't the best mix, and home-made ink worked much better than mass-produced stuff, but it would suffice, and I quickly drew two crude but hopefully effective Floating Ofuda.
"Here, hold this," I told Delilah, shoving one of the sheets of paper into her hand. Bewildered, she did, holding onto it carefully while staring at it in confusion. I went over to the window at the back of the office, and peered outside.
We were a couple doors down from the one we'd previously been in, and the suspicious van was still parked outside. I smirked, then motioned for Delilah to come over.
"We're leaving I said," grabbing her waist and pulling her close to me. "Hold on!"
Wuh?" she uttered, before yelping in shock as I pulled the window open, cold December air buffeting us. Then her eep turned shriller as I dragged her out the window with me.
To her shock, and my relief, the hastily made Ofuda in our hands began to glow, and we didn't plummet to our deaths. Instead, we fell slowly to the sidewalk. It was still a jarring experience to land feet first after jumping from a second story window, but there was no danger of broken bones or anything.
"How the-?!" she exclaimed, confused. Her bewilderment only grew as the crude Ofuda I'd given her burst into flames and turned to ash in her hands alongside my own, its work done.
"I'll explain later. For now, we need to leave," I told her, and she nodded.
We'd left the office building just in time, as I could faintly hear the door I'd barricaded being broken down and it wouldn't be long before the gunmen entered our previous hiding spot and found we'd escaped them.
Taking her hand into mine, I quickly led Delilah over to the van, and in my other hand, pulled out one of the guns I'd stolen.
"Out of the van!" I shouted at the driver, who was still behind the wheel, waiting for the earlier goons to come out.
"What the shit?!" he uttered, flinching back as he realized he had a gun pointing at his head.
"Out of the van!" I repeated, and fired a warning shot into the air to scare him. It worked. He screamed and dove out the van from the other side, scrambling away.
"In, in, in!" I shouted at Delilah, pushing her into the van. She did so, stunned, though from what I was unsure of. Maybe the fall, maybe the gunshot, but whatever it was, she was running on autopilot. I scooted her over, and took the wheel.
'Okay, it's been a while since I've driven. Not since my last life, in fact,' I thought to myself as I checked and saw that yes, the driver had left the keys in the ignition. 'And I never drove anything bigger than an SUV, or in any country that did it backwards like the UK does. But how hard can it be?'
I soon found out that the answer was unfortunately 'very,' and that I was rather rusty with handling vehicles. The drive was a mad rush through the streets, and I thanked every god I could think of that it was so late at night on Christmas, and there was nobody else around. I did nearly run over a taxi, but that was fine!
"Where the bloody hell did you learn to drive?!" Delilah shrieked as we narrowed missed a lamp post.
"I've never driven before!" I shouted back, which was technically true. Sorta.
"Oh God, we're gonna die!" she uttered in horror. "WATCH THAT FIRE HYDRANT!"
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, spinning the wheel so we didn't smash into the object in question. "So, where should we go next?"
"Wait, I thought you knew where you were going?" Delilah demanded. "And how come I couldn't recognize you earlier? And how did we get out of the building safely?"
"Ha! No, I'm completely winging it," I replied. "And sorry, but those are trade secrets!"
She swore under her breath, before taking a deep breath. "I need to find a phone," she told me.
"To call your parents?" I asked. "Whoops! That was a close one!"
"Y-yes," she gurgled, white-faced. Which was totally unfair! There was at least a whole inch between the van and that other parked car!
"Hmm, I saw a payphone back there," I muttered, turning around and driving back to a spot I'd seen earlier.
There was indeed a payphone, proud in its glass box waiting to be used. It was in front of a parking garage, and I screeched the van to a halt near it.
Delilah staggered out of the passenger's side and wobbled over to the payphone, only to pause.
"Um, do you have and change?"
"I do not," I replied. "Just some bills. Hang on, let me check something."
I fished around in the van, trying to find some change for the phone, but all I found was lint, old French fries, and a crumpled cigarette. There wasn't even anything in the glove box!
"Shit," she muttered when I told her I'd found nothing. "Okay, Plan B. Is there any place open we can get some coins?"
"Delilah, it's past midnight on Christmas. There isn't a single store open," I told her.
"Then what do we do?" she demanded angrily.
"We could mug someone," I suggested.
"No!" she shouted at me. "No violence! Not unless they try and mug us first!"
"Fair," I shrugged. Then frowned. "Um, do you think we could find something in the parking garage?"
"Maybe," Delilah mumbled. She then shivered.
"At the very least it will be out of the wind," I said, turning off the engine then getting out of the van.
"Fine," she muttered as she walked into the concrete edifice behind the payphone. It was better, but not by much, and we looked around on the floor for any dropped coins. There was nothing, just a couple cars parked overnight, and I sighed in annoyance.
"We should leave," I said with a grunt as I kicked an empty can across the ground. "Take the van and find somewhere safe to hide. Hit up the bobbies, see if they can help?"
"The police won't help," Delilah said with a scowl. "I have a suspicion I know who it was that took me, and they have friends in high places. No, I need to contact my father. That's the safest thing to do."
"Fudge buckets," I grumbled. "Then should I drive to your home, then?"
"Yes, I think that would be the best," she began, but froze when she heard a car out on the street. "Edward, please check on that for me."
I nodded and walked over to the edge, only to frown.
"Shit, they found us," I uttered, glaring outside. A pair of cars had driven up and had boxed the van in, preventing it from leaving. I could see several men getting out, handguns out, and I stepped away.
"Go! To the top, and hide behind one of the cars," I ordered her, getting my own weapon out while passing her one as well.
"What about you?" she asked fearfully as she took the gun I offered her.
"I'll hold them off," I told her, sinking my mind behind my Occlumency shields. I couldn't afford to be distracted by my emotions at the moment. "And I've got plenty of tricks up my sleeves."
She nodded, having experienced what I was talking about, and ran off. I meanwhile stalked off to the lower levels and took up position behind a car that was parked near a concrete pillar.
"Come on, you sons of bitches," I breathed out.
Soon, a man in black ran up the ramp towards me, but in the dark, he didn't see me taking aim. I twisted my runic ring, and as time slowed around me, I pulled the trigger, and down he went!
Another man came running up behind the first thug and grabbed his feet, dragging him away while firing blindly in my direction.
"Bring it on, wankers!" I shouted out, my mental shields slipping for a brief moment. "COME UP HERE AND FACE YOUR DOOM IF YOU DARE!"
And that was how I ended up here, trapped in a parking garage while being shot at by murderous goons as I attempted to rescue a kidnapped young woman from being sold into slavery. Or worse.
"I should be getting ready for Christmas morning right now!" I snarled angrily as I ducked back down behind a car as bullets pinged off the trunk after shooting at the thugs chasing after Delilah.
My Occlumency was weakening the longer I fought as well. I simply wasn't used to keeping up the emotion dampening side of this discipline for as long as I had been. I mainly used it to calm down or sort and look through memories. But having it active in the middle of combat? It was stressful, and not very easy. Little bits and pieces of emotions kept slipping through, from anger to fear to excitement, and when they did they widened the cracks, meaning more emotions inevitably flowed into my mind. If I wasn't absolutely certain that lowering my mental shields would result in an immediate, hysterical breakdown I would have.
Ignoring the flare of emotions that rose within me as a bullet pinged off the car's hood, I then twisted my runic ring, slowing down my perception of time for the fourth time that night.
As the gunmen moved in slow motion, I rose up from behind my cover and pointed my stolen handgun at them. I could see where they were aiming, and deftly stepped aside to avoid the path of the bullets, while also popping off a few shots of my own.
Two of them dropped, holes blown open in their arms and legs, and I ducked back down, untwisting my runic ring, undoing the spell. I let out a gasp as my vision flickered.
'I've been using my Bullet Time ring too much,' I realized, shaking the fatigue off. 'No time to worry about that, though! I took down two, but there's still three left!'
And that wasn't counting the other thugs I'd taken down earlier or the unknown number who were still waiting to come up here. It hadn't even been ten minutes since the shooting started, yet it felt like an eternity had passed.
I peeked out, flinching back as a bullet pinged off the bumper of the car I was hiding behind. Then, I heard a rumble of a car engine, and grimaced. I'd been worried they would try it, and reached into a pouch to get a Rune Bomb out.
As one of the thugs drove a car up the ramp to ram through the little blockade I'd made, I tossed it up and over towards the vehicle.
"Burst," I intoned solemnly as it drove over the tiny pebble, and my words triggered the imbedded runic inscription upon it. It sounded like a light bulb exploding, but it did far more damage, obliterating the tires and shredding the front bumper while causing the windshield to shatter.
The driver screamed in pain before the car slammed into the concrete pillar, coming to a halt, metal and glass flying everywhere. I ducked and covered my face reflexively, and felt little bits of shrapnel ping off of my back.
I stood up when it was safe to do so, and after taking a look at the poor sod behind the wheel, winced and shot the driver in the head, putting him out of his misery. No man should be forced to live with a broken neck or all that glass in his chest. At least this way he died fast, and not slowly from bleeding out. It might have been my own experience with a cold, slow, inescapable death, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone.
I tried to force down the guilt that tried to overwhelm my mental defenses as I stared at the man I'd mercy killed. This was the second life I'd taken in both this one and my previous existence. And unlike that bastard Erroneous Hunch, did this man deserve it? Sure, he was a kidnapper, and had tried to kill me, but this man… I'd only ended his life because it was the kindest thing I could have done for him, given the extent of his injuries.
"Fucker's got grenades?!" I heard one of the goons scream, breaking me out of my stunned state.
"This wasn't what we agreed on!" another one shouted, and I realized he was speaking into a radio.
"And I've got more where that came from!" I shouted back, hoping to intimidate them.
That broke them, and the survivors fled, running away from the floor of the parking garage I'd claimed as my own.
I could hear the squeal of tires a few seconds later as the survivors drove away, taking the wounded with them while the dead stayed on the ground.
"Ugh, finally," I grumbled, panting heavily. I then hurried up to find Delilah and reassure her that the danger had passed. I reached the top level of the parking garage, a faint grin on my face.
"Hey, Delilah? It's safe now!" I called out. She peeked out from her hiding spot behind a pickup truck, and smiled widely, only for her expression to twist into one of shock.
"Look out!" she screamed at me, and I froze, turning around as I heard a crunch of gravel. One of the suited goons hadn't left, and snuck up behind me. He unloaded several rounds into my chest and face as soon as I was facing him.
My Armor Bubble (patent pending) caused the bullets shot at my head to bounce off, but the rest of the shots hit my chest and I was fairly certain something broke. One of my ribs? The only consolation was that I wasn't dead, which I would have been if not for my rune-armored suit. Still hurt like fuck, though.
"Argh!" I cried out, falling flat on my back. Stunned, I could only struggle a bit as the man who'd opened fire on me dashed over and jumped on me, trying to pummel my face and cave my skull in with his fists now that his gun was empty.
And, now that I got a better look at him, it turned out that it was none other than the same bastard who'd tried to shoot me back at the office!
Unfortunately, this revelation didn't help much, as I was much weaker than him, and even though my gloves enhanced my strength, I couldn't react in time or get into a position to use it, as his barrage of blows dazed me and I couldn't focus, only struggle pathetically.
"Get off of him!" Delilah shouted, running out from behind cover and tackling the man, trying to get him to stop.
'You have a gun I gave you, use it!' I thought at her weakly. But she managed to buy me some time, and I reached up and managed to punch him in the chin.
It was a poor hit, even with my increased strength adding some extra damage, and it merely knocked him back for a moment.
He recovered faster than I could, and punched Delilah, knocking her away from him, before wrapping his meaty hands around my throat.
'Shit!' I gurgled, and punched him in the side of the head. It didn't work, and I tried again, this time successfully knocking him off of me.
Gasping for air, I tried to sit up and deal with the man, but before I could, Delilah came back to the fight, this time with a cinderblock in her hands.
'Where did she find one of those?' I wondered.
"BASTARD!" she snarled, slamming the brick down onto the man's head where he lay, dazed by my hit. It collided with a sickening "CRACK!" but she didn't stop. Delilah kept swing the piece of masonry until it broke apart. The man's head had been pulped long before that.
"Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ!" I hissed in awe, staring at Delilah as she panted heavily, the blood that'd splashed onto her face and hair making her look like an avenging angel under the parking garage's lights.
'Or maybe that's my head wound talking,' I thought to myself.
"We've got some stuff to discuss," she told me, shooting me a glare as she got up off the man she'd clobbered to death.
"Yeah, fair," I said with a wince. "Um, can you help me up? My vision is swimming."
She got me back onto my feet.
"So, don't freak out, but, uh, INKY!" I called out. Delilah flinched when my House Elf popped up next to her.
"Young Master Eddy should know better than to call me around Muggles!" Inky scolded me.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," I grumbled. "Take us both back to the apartment, please."
"Young Master Eddy knows I cannot do that! Missy Delly is not family!" Inky protested.
"Missy Delly?" Delilah muttered under her breath, even as she stared at us.
"I don't give a flying fuck about the Rules right now, Inky," I grunted. "She already saw me use magic, and she's a Squib, I'm pretty sure."
"But, but the rules!" Inky pleaded.
"Fine!" I grumbled, before turning to Delilah. "Hey, wanna get married?"
"Bwuh?!" she uttered.
"You didn't say no!" I said with a pained laugh, then I turned back to Inky. "There, she's now my fiancé. That means she's part of my family according to the Rules! So you can use your magic on both us!"
"Young Master Eddy shouldn't be bending Rules," Inky grumbled, but he complied and snapped his fingers all the same, teleporting us back to my cozy little flat.
"What is going on?" she whispered as she looked around wide-eyed. I could see that the events of tonight were starting to catch up to her, and I sent Inky to get a Calming Draught before she broke down.
"Long story short, magic is real. Tada!" I said with a grunt and Jazz Hands before forcing the potion into her hands. "Drink this! And afterwards you can help me get some medicine onto these wounds of mine. You can call your dad afterwards."
Delilah took a deep breath, but nodded, drained the Calming Draught into her throat, grimaced, and then looked at me with a firm expression as it kicked in. "Okay. Tell me what to do."
It wasn't how I expected my Christmas to end, but what could you do? I sagged down into a chair and pulled out a few of my bottled potions while reinforcing my Occlumency so I didn't have a breakdown of my own. There was time to jibber and cry hysterically later!
"Okay, so, this one heals cuts…"
Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Flight to Remember
Chapter Text
Chapter 29: Flight to Remember
Harry POV
Winter had finally come to an end in the Scottish Highlands, and Harry was grateful for that. Snow was nice and all, but the piercing cold and howling wind got old really quick. There were of course other reasons to appreciate the approach of spring. But he just really liked not having to wear two extra sets of warm clothes underneath his robes to stay warm in the dungeons during potions or when they ventured up to the Astronomy Tower.
As it was now the first week of March, besides the change in weather, it was also important because the second to last Quidditch game was upon them.
'Hard to believe I'm the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts's history,' Harry mused to himself at the Gryffindor table within the Great Hall.
Honestly, he sometimes forgot about that fact, what with trolls, mysterious corridors, researching Nicholas Flamel, and homework to do.
Admitting as such to Wood, the aptly named captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, would have gotten him a look of disbelief. The older student lived and breathed the sport!
'At least I don't have to listen to another one of his lectures about the game and its rules,' Harry thought with a sigh. Don't get him wrong, he liked the game plenty, but he really preferred flying to playing sports.
'And don't even get me started on the rules! Who thought it was a good idea to have the end of the game decided by catching a tiny golden ball? Or that doing so would grant over a hundred points?' Harry just shook his head at the silliness of the rules. No matter how many times Wood, Ron, or his older brothers tried to tell him why said ridiculousness was integral to the sport, he just couldn't wrap his head around it.
Still, at least it was fun. Some of the attempts to pander to him had made Harry uncomfortable, though. McGonagall had even offered to buy him a fancy new broom to play on, but while the Boy-Who-Lived was okay with joining the team as a First Year, he wasn't going to flaunt the rules about First Years not being allowed to own or bring their brooms. Instead, he'd declared he would just fly on one of the school's broom.
There had been protests from his team and friends (and even Madam Hooch) about that decision, but thrashing the Hufflepuffs in the first game of the year on the back of one of the schools old Cleansweeps had shown that he didn't need a fancy broom to be a Seeker. It also shut up all the rumors some of the pettier students (mainly Slytherins) had spread about Harry needing special privileges, or that he'd only play so well on a fancy new broom.
As he thought about the upcoming game, Ron scooted over to him at the table and leaned in.
"Are you excited, Harry?" Ron asked eagerly. "Today's the big day!"
"Yup," Harry said as he ate breakfast.
"Good! Wipe that smug look off of Malfoy's face when you crush the Slytherin team!" Ron urged. They should have played against the green themed House sooner, but Flint, the Slytherin captain, had had a Transfiguring accident the day before their match, and so they had played against Hufflepuff instead as the first match of the year.
"Ron! It's just a Quidditch game!" Hermione said in exasperation. "Right, Neville?"
She looked over to the quiet pudgy boy for back-up, but found he was nodding along with Ron, a surprisingly stern look on his face.
"Not you too!" Hermione gasped in shock.
"Sorry, Hermione, but I really want Harry to give Snape a real reason to frown, and kicking some arse at the Quidditch match today is the best way to do it," Neville said fiercely.
"See? Neville agrees with me!" Ron said with a nod.
"Honestly, I kinda want to do it for that reason too," Harry admitted, causing Hermione to just gawk at him.
"Oh, come on, lighten up! It's Snape!" Ron said with a shake of his head at their bookish friend's expression.
"Well, yes, I know that, but still!" she spluttered.
"What are we talking about? Making Snape angrier than usual?" Hannah asked brightly, popping up next to Hermione with Susan at her side. "I say go for it, Harry!"
"Indeed. I'm not happy you beat Hufflepuff, but you can make that up to us by making sure Slytherin doesn't take home the cup again," Susan said, sitting down next to Harry with a chuckle.
"I'll do my best," Harry said dryly. "Speaking of, I better get down to the field. Wood wants us to warm up before the match."
He got up, said a quiet 'thank you' to the House Elves for the food, and then headed down to the Quidditch pitch. He found Wood already there (no surprises in that regard) but also found the rest of the team minus the Weasley twins.
"Harry! Glad you're here on time!" Wood said cheerfully as he stretched. Stretching was surprisingly important. It helped to be flexible and loose while playing Quidditch.
"Hi, Oliver. Alicia, Katie, Angelina," Harry greeted politely. The three Chasers all smiled and waved at him.
"Where are Fred and George?" Oliver Wood demanded, looking frustrated at the lack of Weasley.
"I didn't see them in the Great Hall," Harry replied.
"Fine. Do your warm-up stretches before they arrive, Potter!" Wood asked, and Harry nodded, getting loose and limber alongside the female members of the team.
The Weasley Twins did show up a few minutes later, and got chewed out by Wood, but neither looked put off by it. Afterwards, Wood somehow managed to smoothly transition from his rant into a speech about teamwork and victory.
"Is it okay not to listen?" Harry asked in a low voice to the nearest red-headed twin who was looking away as he did his own warm-ups.
"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred claimed. Or was it George? "We were on the team last year."
"Shut up, you two!" Wood shouted at them. "This is the best team Gryffindor's head in years. We're going to win. I know it!"
"Sure, sure, but seriously… same speech, every time," George (or maybe Fred?) replied with a snicker.
Eventually, the stands began to fill up with spectators, and crimson and gold flags and pennants flew merrily in the breeze alongside emerald and silver ones.
"It's time!" Wood said eagerly as Madam Hooch flew out onto the field, the box containing the balls floating beside her. Across the field the Slytherin team was lined up.
"Remember, Harry, Higgs is good at stopping on a dime, but has trouble turning while accelerated due to his broom being an old Silver Arrow. Best way to counter him is to keep moving, never stopping," Wood whispered to Harry regarding the Slytherin Seeker. "And he prefers to avoid diving if he can help it. Again, because of the turning problem I mentioned."
Harry nodded absent-mindedly, but his focus was not on his rival Seeker, but one of the Chasers. Mounted on a Comet 220 was one Rudolph Hunch, a very angry looking teen.
'Hunch… Edwards' brother,' Harry thought to himself, looking at the student in question. They didn't really look alike. They shared the same sharp, distinguished chin, but that was it. Rudy's hair was darker and shorter, while his eyes were blue and narrowed in disgust as he glared at the Gryffindors.
He'd had little to do with the boy in the past, but now, he was an opponent. Harry mounted his broom at Madam Hooch's whistle, and rose into the air.
A second whistle, and the Snitch was released. A third saw the quaffle hurled into the air, and the game was on. Moments later the two bludgers rocketed onto the field, but Harry was already looking around for the glint of gold that told him where the Snitch would be.
"And it looks like Flint tricked Wood with a side-slash! Ten points to Slytherin! First Blood to them!" the announcer, Lee Jordan, called out. Harry's eyes narrowed at that, and he glanced around, all while flying here and there to avoid the bludgers sent his way.
As the game continued, more and more points were scored, mostly by the Slytherin team. They had managed to get a hundred and ten points to Gryffindor's sixty, and Harry knew they would be searching for the Snitch now. Thanks to Wood, he knew that Flint and the Slytherin team liked to try and get at least a hundred points before searching for the Snitch in earnest, which was smart as regardless of who won the game, both sides still earned House Points based on their score, and even if Slytherin lost, a hundred points was nothing to scoff at.
Deciding he couldn't let them win with such a wide point margin, Harry flew up high to get a better view, only to find the Cleansweep Seven he was riding begin to buck underneath him.
He grabbed on tight, but found it growing harder to keep his balance. What was happening?!
Neville POV
The game had been going… well enough, he supposed. Much as he was loath to admit it, but Flint ran a tight ship and his team players were well coordinated. Still, even with a couple newcomers the Gryffindor team was doing well.
"Go Fred! Go George!" Ron cheered. "Kick their arse!"
"Ron!" Hermione gasped, scandalized. She turned to her other friends. "Can you believe how worked up some of the students are getting?"
"YEAH!" Hannah shouted, waving a Gryffindor flag. "Wooo! Go! Tear those snakes apart and turn 'em into boots!"
"Sorry about her," Susan apologized, blushing a bit on behalf of her friend as Hermione stared at the blonde. "She gets very heated when it comes to sports and games in general. Quidditch, Exploding Snap… you should see how she gets when playing Gobstones."
"Oi! Are you blind?! That was clearly a foul!" Hannah heckled as the Syltherin Beaters pulled a crude maneuver, pinning in one of the Chasers and knocking away the quaffle from her as it was thrown at her by one of the others. "Boo! Boo!"
"Hmm, the Slytherins are fifty points ahead, it will be hard for us to pull ahead," Neville hummed.
"Am I the only one who finds this whole thing ridiculous?" Hermione muttered.
"There, there," Susan said, patting her bushy-haired friend sympathetically.
"Um, guys?" Ron said, eyes locked onto the pitch. Everyone turned to see what he was looking, and their eyes widened while a sudden and loud gasp rippled through the stands.
Up in the air, almost past the upper boundary of the Quidditch field, was Harry, but he was in clear distress as he clung to the broom for dear life, trying to hold on as it flailed like a bucking bronco.
"Something's wrong!" Hermione exclaimed, and Neville was forced to agree. There was no way the wild movements of Harry's broom were natural, or safe. A fall from that height probably wouldn't be fatal, all Quidditch stadiums and pitches had safety spells worked into them to slow or cushion a descent, but it wouldn't be pretty, either.
"Why is nobody stopping this?" Hermione demanded.
"I don't know!" Susan replied.
As Neville looked around, trying to see if there was anything he could to do help his friend in the air, his eyes fell onto the teacher's box, where all the professors sat. They had all risen to their feet and were shouting and gesturing at Harry. Some, like Flitwick and McGonagall, had their wands out, but that didn't seem to have any effect on the situation whatsoever.
However, when he looked closer at the box, he saw something… odd. Out of all the teachers, only two didn't look worried. One was Dumbledore, but the other was Snape. Furthermore, Snape's lips were moving, but he didn't appear to be talking to anyone.
Eyes narrowing, Neville tapped his friends on the shoulders. "Look, over there, where the professors are," he ordered, and one by one, his friends looked over and saw what he'd seen.
"It's Snape!" Ron hissed angrily. "That greasy git! He's hexing Harry's broom!"
"He's cheating! The Slytherins are gonna win because of him!" Hannah gasped indignantly, before blushing a bit at the looks the rest of the group shot her. "Sorry, sorry, but it's true!"
"I don't think Snape would cheat during a match… would he?" Hermione asked, looking around for support.
"I mean, maybe? If they were losing, perhaps. But Slytherin is winning," Susan pointed out. "And it doesn't look like Higgs has stopped trying to find the Snitch."
"Um, well, he does hate Harry," Ron countered. "Maybe he thought Harry saw the Snitch, and just… decided to even the odds?"
"Or maybe he's trying to get him hurt," Neville guessed sourly. The fact that nobody argued against that, not even Hermione, was fairly damning in the Longbottom scion's opinion. Nobody should have to be afraid of a teacher, but the man was very good at doing just that.
When it was just Harry teaching Neville how to brew potions, the nerves and shakes he experiences when in the dungeons never manifested. But somehow, Snape brought out the worst in him, which usually led to failed potions and melted cauldrons.
Swallowing his nervousness, he looked around at the group. "We need to do something to help Harry."
"How?" Hannah asked. "He's way up there, and we can't fly up to help him! And I don't think the Levitation Charm will help much if he falls."
"We just have to break his eye contact," Hermione declared. "I read that it's possible for some Hexes to be cast with just direct line of sight, no wand needed. It's rather advanced, but easy to disrupt."
"So, we need to make him look away, is what you're saying," Neville muttered. "Any ideas?"
"I think I do," Hermione declared after a moment. "Watch my back!"
With that said, she crouched down and made her way towards the professors, keeping low to avoid being spotted.
She made it to the box, and slipped in. None of them could see what she was doing, but after a few seconds smoke began to pour out of the box, and the teachers were going wild as they began to stomp on Snape's robe.
"Did you just light a teacher on fire?!" Hannah gasped in disbelief as Hermione returned to their side shortly after the act.
"It was just a small fire," she replied, looking away with flushed cheeks.
"Wicked," Ron breathed out, a savage grin slipping onto his face. Neville nodded in agreement, awed by Hermione's deeds.
"I could never have done something like that," Neville murmured in awe. Even with his new wand replacing his father's broken one, the pudgy First Year lacked the courage to even try something like that to any teacher, let alone Snape!
"Look! Harry's okay!" Susan exclaimed. "No, wait, he's slipping!"
The broom's twitching ceased with Snape's gaze disrupted, but it seemed that Harry had finally lost his grip. He began to fall, but he held out both hands, and shouted, "DOWN!" causing the Cleansweep he'd been riding to shoot towards him, letting him remount it mere seconds before hitting the ground.
And then he raised a fist into the air, causing a sudden stillness before the crowds went wild. There, in the other hand, was the Snitch! He'd caught it while falling!
"One hell of a Quidditch match," Neville muttered under his breath as he left with the rest of his friends (and wasn't that amazing? He, Neville Longbottom, had friends!) to go congratulate Harry and the rest.
Harry POV
After all the excitement of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match (which the former won thanks to Harry's quick and incredible snatching of the Snitch), Harry was glad that things seemed to settle down for a bit, and things settled back into a routine.
Visiting Hagrid was one such tradition he was more than happy to continue, now that the weather permitted it. As such, he smiled merrily as he and his group of friends walked down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest one sunny Saturday afternoon towards the hut the Groundskeeper lived in.
"Afternoon, Hagrid!" Harry said happily as he knocked on the door.
"Oh, Harry, what are you doing down here?" Hagrid asked as he opened the door. But, curiously, didn't offer to let them in.
"Just wanted to chat a bit," the Boy-Who-Lived said. "Is that okay?"
"Err, sure, I suppose," Hagrid said nervously, allowing the group of six students to enter. "There's not much, though."
"That's fine," Harry assured him.
Kinda hot in here," Hannah muttered, tugging at the collar of her robe. "Do you have to keep that fire blazing?"
"Got t' chase away the damp and chill nights," Hagrid stammered.
"Lotta firewood in here, too," Susan commented, awkwardly sitting down on a pile of logs.
"Getting ready for winter early. Smart," Hermione said, nodding in approval. Harry and the rest shot the bushy-haired girl an incredulous look. It was the start of spring, that was a bit too early to begin prepping for winter!
"Err, yeah, winter. That's right," Hagrid said nervously.
'Well, that's a lie,' Harry thought, and he wasn't the only one doubting his words. If there was one thing the group of students had learned from their meetings with Hagrid, it was that he was very bad at keeping secrets.
"So, I saw your match the other day. Mighty fine flying y'did, Harry me boy," Hagrid said, changing the subject abruptly and slapping the Boy-Who-Lived fondly on the back.
"Yeah, about that," Harry said slowly.
"We think Snape was trying to hurt Harry!" Ron blurted out. Beside him, Hermione and Susan slapped their foreheads in annoyance.
"What? Tha's nonsense!" the Groundskeeper scoffed.
"Is it? We saw him staring and mumbling at Harry, and the broom stopped misbehaving after he stopped looking," Hermione replied. "And I read that some spells can be cast wandlessly!"
"It's an old broom. They get a little cranky when they get older," Hagrid protested. "Professor Snape is a good man. Dumbledore trusts him, and that's that."
"Trusts him, huh? Is that anything like whatever is up between Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore?" Ron snarked, causing Hagrid to stammer and splutter.
"Yeah, I've got to say, Mr. Hagrid, but Snape is a pretty nasty man," Hannah said. "He shows exceptional favoritism towards Slytherin House, doesn't bother to teach us during class, and well, he's really mean to Neville."
"Well, that may be, but if Snape were to make a problem, Dumbledore would take care of it. He's a great man!"
Before Harry could respond to that, a loud noise suddenly rang out from the fireplace, and it sounded like something heavy was rattling around in a pot. Fang whimpered and stepped back from the fireplace.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, always the curious one.
"Well, it's getting late, I think you better head on back before Filch catches you!" Hagrid said, hastily ushering the group out. "Here's some snacks for the road!"
"But it's only two pm," Harry protested, even as a bunch of rock-like scones were shoved into his hands.
But Hagrid would have none of it, and they were quickly pushed out of the hut.
"Well, that was weird," Neville muttered.
"Right? He's definitely hiding something," Ron agreed. "What do you think, Harry?"
"About the thing in his fireplace, or the fact he's clearly putting way too much faith in one man?" Harry asked.
"What do you mean? Are you saying don't like Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"Gotta be honest, but I'm don't particularly trust Dumbledore," Harry admitted to his friends. "He may be a great wizard and all, but he's… well, he's made a lot of mistakes recently. Mistakes that have directly affected me."
"Mmm. My aunt often says she wishes he would just step down from one of his many positions. She has no idea how he manages to spend so much time doing three full-time jobs, but she's pretty sure he's abusing Time Turners," Susan said.
"Time Turners?" Hermione asked, intrigued.
"Oh, they're this enchanted devices that let you go back in time up to twenty-four hours," Susan said.
"Wait, what?!" Hermione gasped, and even Harry couldn't help but stare at the brunette Hufflepuff in disbelief. "You have functional time travel?!"
To her and Harry's shock, none of the people who'd grown up in the wizarding world seemed all that impressed or surprised.
"Well, yeah. It's not that impressive," Neville replied with a shrug, Ron nodding in agreement.
"I-I don't… huh?!" Hermione spluttered. Hannah patted her on the shoulder sympathetically.
"Yeah, I feel the same way sometimes," the Hufflepuff assured her. "To clarify, Time Turners are not that impressive. You can't change the past using a Time Turner. All it's good for is giving you extra hours in the day."
"How do you know you can't change the past?" Harry asked.
"Well, if somebody could, wouldn't they have already tried?" Hannah replied, which was fair enough.
"I'm sure the Department of Mysteries has some way to detect temporal anomalies," Susan pointed out. "And like Hannah said, Time Turners only give you a little extra time per day to do things. Which means you're also aging a little bit faster every time you use one. They're highly regulated and illegal to use outside of their proscribed methods."
"Okay, that makes me feel a little bit better," Hermione replied, heaving a heavy sigh. "Still, to not react at breaking one of the fundamental laws of the universe… you wizards are all crazy!"
Harry bobbed his head rapidly. 'Maybe Edward was on to something with how the Wizarding World lacks common sense,' he thought.
"You know, Hagrid did bring up something," Harry commented. "We still don't know what the deal is with Nicholas Flamel."
"Right, yeah, him," Ron muttered. "Kinda forgot about it in all the hubbub."
"Yeah. Remember back in February, when Draco challenged me to a duel, but it was obviously a trick to get me in trouble with Filch? That was a mess," Harry sighed.
"And yet despite knowing it was a trick, you still went," Neville said, Hermione and Susan both pouting in disapproval.
"Well, yeah. I have my dad's Invisibility Cloak, so I wasn't in any danger of being caught. And I kinda wanted to be able to rub it in Malfoy's face. Did you see how angry he was when I called him out on it?"
"I've never seen anybody turn that shade of purple before. At least, not without magic," Ron commented with a chuckle.
"But yeah, we've been distracted. What do you say? Give the library another spin?" Harry suggested.
"Why not?" Susan agreed with a shrug. "But let's wait till tomorrow, instead. We'll have more time that way, and we can work on our homework assignments at the same. Perfect cover!"
"That's a brilliant idea, Susan," Harry said, flashing her a smile, and she blushed and looked away, muttering it was no big deal.
Confused by the leering grin Hannah shot him, Harry decided to change the topic. "So, since we're not having tea at Hagrid's, should we visit the House Elves, see if we can't get something to go with these scones?"
A round of nods greeted him, and so they headed off in the hopes that the House Elves of Hogwarts could find a way to make even Hagrid's cooking palatable.
Long story short? The answer was 'no,' and the whole adventure ended with many elves weeping at the desecration of the art of cooking, as well as their failure to understand just how Hagrid had made his scones so inedible.
Afterwards, Harry and friends vowed to never introduce any more of Hagrid's cooking to the poor staff ever again.
The next day, the six friends were in the library bright and early, carefully pouring over the books they'd acquired from across the shelves.
A few hours into their research, a familiar large man lumbered into the library.
"Hullo, boys and girls! Doing well?" Hagrid said in greeting on his way out. He then winced when Madam Pince shushed him.
"Oh, hey, Hagrid," Harry replied, rubbing his eyes. "Just researching some history, is all."
"Yer still not looking into Nicholas Flamel, are ye?" Hagrid asked as he looked over the study group.
"What? No! This is… something completely different," Hermione said, lying badly. Ron facepalmed and Hannah held back a snicker at the barefaced and obvious lie.
Thankfully, Hagrid was too much of a kind and trusting soul, and also someone who wouldn't know a lie (or sarcasm) if it slapped them in the face. As such, he just nodded happily, a grin peeking out from his bushy beard.
"Tha's good!" he chortled in a booming voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've some books t'check out."
Hagrid walked away, leaving the First Years alone. All the while, he was trying – and failing – to keep the titles of the books he'd taken from the shelves unseen.
"'How to Train Your Dragon?' 'The Draconic Encyclopedia?' 'My Life as a Dragon Tamer?' Seems like Hagrid is really into dragons," Harry noted. "I mean, I would be too, knowing they're real. Think he'd let me borrow 'em when he's done?"
"Just wait for him to return the books. Or see if the library has any other books on the subject," Hermione suggested as she buried her nose into a dense tome about historical figures. "Besides, we still have to find out what we can about Nicholas Flamel."
"Good point," Harry replied, before glancing over at the pile of books they were going through. "I guess I'll start with this one."
"So, uh, are we just going to ignore the fact that Hagrid was looking up info on dragons?" Neville asked, looking around at his friends in bewilderment as they just returned to looking up information about the mysterious Nicholas Flamel person.
"Huh, do you think that's why his hut was so bleeding warm when we visited it the other day?" Harry wondered.
"I'm sure it's fine. He was probably just curious," Ron said, waving it off while Hannah nodded along. Hermione's nose was already in another book.
"I think Neville's right, we should be more worried about this," Susan spoke up. "Raising a dragon without the appropriate breeder's license is illegal, and I don't think Hagrid has one."
"He could be arrested for it?" Harry asked, concern for the kindly Groundskeeper coloring his voice.
"Absolutely!" Susan said. "Pretty sure it's illegal to even own a dragon's egg, let alone hatch it away from one of the dragon preserves. Doesn't stop some people from trying, though."
"Yeah, Charlie says half the job at the Romanian Preserve is keeping the poachers out. The other half is cleaning up after the dragons are done with them," Ron joked.
"Could that be why there's so much firewood in his house? To keep it warm for the hatching?" Neville mused. "I mean, I'm just assuming here, but wouldn't a fire-breathing lizard need a lot of heat in order to hatch properly?"
"It would be like Hagrid to do something like this," Harry said slowly. "I mean, he thinks manticores are just 'misunderstood.'"
"Yes, but would he really risk going to Azkaban over an egg?" Susan demanded.
Everyone looked at each other, and an uneasy silence fell upon the group. Even Hermione looked up from her reading, an expression of worry on her face.
"HAGRID! WAIT UP!" the First Years screamed as they got up and ran out of the library after the Groundskeeper.
They did not catch up to him in the hallway, unfortunately. No, all they got when they hastily asked a talking painting about it was that Hagrid had already left through the gates. The six of them immediately headed out there in a hurry.
"Curse his longer stride! And curse these stubby legs of ours!" Hannah grimaced as they jogged towards his hut.
"Hagrid! Hold up!" Harry called out, but he was too far ahead – or too distracted – to hear them, and he slipped inside his hut.
Ron reached the door first out of the group and hammered on it while the rest caught their breath as they came to a halt. On the other side, they could hear Fang barking wildly at the knocking, excited for visitors.
"What's the matter? What's all the ruckus about?" Hagrid demanded, opening the door a crack, only to pause as he saw who it was.
"Hagrid!" Neville panted. "Don't… don't do what you're thinking of doing!"
"Beg pardon?" the large man muttered.
"Hagrid, we know you've got a dragon egg in there," Harry gasped out. Seeing the Groundskeeper's eyes widen told them that yes, that was indeed the case.
"I dun know what yer talking about," Hagrid tried to deflect.
"Hagrid, if we could figure it out, other people will do so as well," Susan pointed.
"It's crazy that you're trying to hatch a dragon in a wooden house, by the way," Hannah stated.
"My home's fireproofed. You don't think I'd building a flammable hut near the Forbidden Forest, do ya?" Hagrid replied. "And, err, I still don't know why you think I have a dragon egg. Which I don't!"
Harry shot him an incredulous look. "Hagrid… a roaring fire plus enough firewood to build an extension to your hut? You borrowing all the books in the library on dragons? I bet if we looked around we'd see evidence of you going on hunts for fresh meat or whatever it is dragon babies eat!"
"They're called whelps," Hagrid informed him. "And they eat meat that's been seared or slightly burnt."
"You're just digging yourself deeper," Hannah muttered.
"Argh, fine!" Hagrid grumbled. "Come on in, then."
He ushered the group inside, then took out a cauldron from within the blazing fireplace.
"It's true, I got myself a dragon egg," he admitted, showing them the contents. Inside, a nice big egg could be seen, resting in a bunch of hot sand that filled the bottom of the cauldron. The shell was a beautiful bronze color, and it was smooth – and probably red hot to the touch.
"Bloody hell! That's a real dragon egg, alright," Ron muttered, then jerked back as the egg twitched violently within its 'nest.'
"It's it beautiful?" Hagrid sniffled.
"Yeah, in the 'spend ten years at best in Azkaban' sort of way," Hannah snarked. Hagrid didn't hear her, as he was too engrossed in caring for the egg.
"I'm thinking of naming 'em 'Norbert.' What do you think?" he asked the group.
"It's certainly… unique," Susan offered up with a weak smile. Hagrid just beamed.
The First Years didn't hang around the hut for much longer after that, and headed back to the castle to discuss their next move.
"A knut says Hagrid gets found out before the end of the school year," Ron said as they walked towards the looming structure.
"Sucker's bet, Ron," Neville scoffed.
"Yeah, I doubt he can keep a dragon secret. Like, at all," Susan said with a shake of her head. "He'd be parading it around the grounds on a leash soon as it can walk."
"That sounds… yeah, that sounds like a 'Hagrid' thing he'd do," Harry sighed. A thought then struck the dark-haired boy, and he turned to his red-haired friend.
"Ron? You said you had a brother who works in a dragon reserve?" Harry asked, and the youngest Weasley boy nodded slowly.
"Yeah, Charlie, over in Romania. Why?"
"I think we need somebody better equipped and trained to handle this," the Boy-Who-Lived claimed.
"You want to have someone come in and take the egg away before it can hatch?" Susan guessed.
"Yup," Harry confirmed. When Susan just nodded in agreement, he couldn't help but ask, "I thought you'd have something else to say about the idea. Isn't your aunt a law enforcer, or something?"
"Her Auntie Bones is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Hannah confirmed, causing Harry's eyes to widen in surprise.
"Yeah, she's pretty important," Susan said proudly. "And as such, I know all about the trouble she goes through at work. Opening up an investigation or whatever else that would happen if we told the authorities about Hagrid and his dragon egg would just make a lot of paperwork and busywork. Better to have someone solve the problem on the downlow."
"Well, you're the expert," Neville said, accepting the answer with a shrug.
"But, but that's… that's breaking the rules!" Hermione gasped in horror.
"Yeah, but it still solves the problem," Susan pointed out. "If Ron's brother can take the egg back, I don't see why we wouldn't do so. Besides, do you want to have people know Hagrid broke the law?"
"…No," Hermione admitted after a moment. "But it just feels… wrong."
"You know what they say, right? Rules were meant to be broken," Harry joked. Hermione let out an indignant gasp at that as her expression twisted one of shocked horror at his words, and it thankfully distracted her from what they were planning.
"So, which of us is going to break it to Hagrid he has to give up his dragon egg before it hatches?" Neville asked, looking around the group.
Harry shared a knowing glance with Ron before putting a finger to their noses, simultaneously shouting "Not it!" as they did so. Hannah and Susan quickly shouted it as well a moment later, and even Neville caught on, exclaiming the words, leaving Hermione perplexed and looking at them in confusion before realizing what had happened.
"Ugh, fine, I'll tell him!" Hermione groaned.
"So, what was that you two just did?" Susan asked.
"It's called the Nose Game," Harry explained.
"Edward taught you that game too, huh?" Ron guessed.
"He did," Harry nodded. "Great way to solve an argument about who has to do something."
"That it is," Ron agreed, before frowning. "Although the Twins are way too good at it. They're always faster than everyone else."
"Speaking of, I'm going to send him a letter," Harry announced. "I think between this egg thing with Hagrid and figuring out why Snape tried to hex me during my match, we won't have much time to do any more investigating on Nicholas Flamel."
"Mm. Makes sense," Neville agreed.
"I'll write to Charlie, then. Hopefully he can help us," Ron said, and everyone nodded in agreement.
"Well, let's pray this is the last of the excitement we have to deal with for the year," Harry said hopefully. For some reason, Hannah burst into a giggling fit while Hermione and Susan tried to stifle their own snorts of amusement.
When Harry looked to Ron and Neville for help, they just shrugged.
"Yeah, sorry mate, but you kinda tempted fate just now," Ron said.
"Don't worry, Harry, we'll stand with you, no matter what trouble you end up getting in to," Neville promised.
"Oi! Why do you make it sound like this is all my fault?!" Harry demanded petulantly, which only sparked a fresh round of laughter from the girls. "I mean it! I'm not a trouble magnet! I'm not!"
Nobody believed his protests, sadly, and the trek back into the castle was a mirthful one for five out of six students in their little group.
&&&&&
Author's Note:
Hey, everyone! Enjoy a chapter in celebration of the Leap Year!
Chapter 30: Chapter 30: Cauldron Bubbles
Chapter Text
Chapter 30: Cauldron Bubbles
"Seems like it's finally that time," I mused quietly, looking at the letter Harry had sent me. He wanted to know if I knew anything about ol' Nicholas Flamel. A bit late compared to what I remember about the story. Or was it? It'd been so long… I would have to refresh my Occlumency later and step up my training in it. It wouldn't do to forget such important little facts like dates again.
Returning to the matter at hand, I wrote a quick summary of what I knew of the man, including a reference to the Philosopher's Stone. I also made sure to let him know he was famous in both worlds. Then, I tied my response to Hedwig's leg, gave her an owl treat, and let her return to Hogwarts. She gave a nod of her head at me then flew off back to her owner.
Thinking about Harry and his investigations into the Philosopher's Stone made me turn my thoughts to alchemy, and how my own studies of it were progressing. Poorly, sad to say. I was so busy with so many things lately I'd barely had time to do more than skim the book mother had gotten me last year, let alone test or experiment with anything too complex.
It had given me plenty to think about, namely rituals after I'd read a section in the book about a ritual that would let me transmute my bodily fluids into any liquid substance I could conceive of. Best of all, the ritual was designed to make the user immune to their detrimental effects of their own transmuted fluids, so I could make my blood into acid and I wouldn't die from it. I'd still benefit from it, of course. I could harvest my own sweat and blood for potion ingredients, or make someone have a bad day if they bit or cut me.
There were drawbacks, of course, such as not being able to make magical fluids or anything too complex, like I wasn't able to bleed pre-made potions or soda pop but I could cry tears made of wine or olive oil. And the other downsides were pretty minor compared to some rituals. Out of all the rituals I'd learned of, that one was quite tempting, more so than any others.
I had not delved too deeply into rituals during my studies on the different types of magic I could and could not do as a Squib. Most rituals were extremely unsafe to do if you were still growing and developing. The mind and body could be violently twisted otherwise. Stories of people who aged in body but retained the mind of a child due to performing a ritual in their youth was one of the more common ones in the magical world. Plus, as a Squib, I could only do three rituals in my entire life.
Now technically, when you got right down to it, everything magical that wasn't accidental magic was a form of ritual. After all, a ritual was, 'a ceremony consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order.' At least, that was the dictionary definition.
The movements of a wand combined with the spell incantation? A ritual. The stirring motions as well as the ingredients added to a potion? Another type of ritual.
However, what the magical world considered to be 'true' rituals was different, and more closely aligned with what the mundane world viewed them as; a bunch of geometric shapes drawn onto the floor along with reagents and catalyst materials (mundane and magical) carefully arranged during a specific time of day to do something extremely difficult to accomplish with pure wand or 'foci' magic alone.
Rituals were heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic, if not outright banned. There were some good reasons for it. A lot of the old rituals involved blood and sacrifice, and were as Dark as you could get. But there were some, like the Mind Booster or the Body Strengthening ritual, that'd been banned because the Ministry didn't want its citizens having access to superior minds or bodies.
The major – and I suspect real – reason so many rituals were banned and erased by the various magical governments? Anybody could use them. Yes, even Muggles! So long as everything was done properly, the rituals were powered by the world's own magical energy and needed no connections to the user's magic.
There were drawbacks. A person could only perform a certain number of rituals in their life. Didn't matter if they weren't the recipient of the ritual's effect, if they'd participated in one, like say provided blood or magical power, they technically counted as having done a ritual.
The average wizard could perform seven without burdening themselves. A Squib could only do three at most. Mundane, non-magical people were capable of doing only a single ritual without risking harm to themselves.
These numbers were also important. Seven was a mystical number, while three was the number of balance. If I decided to use a ritual for myself, I'd only be able to do one, or three. I could never do just two, as the imbalance in my magic would eventually tear me to shreds. Or worse.
So why was I even bothering with researching rituals if they were so limited? Well, the answer was simple. They could still be useful for me. Having superior regeneration if wounded or sick could be a game changer! Same with super strength or magically enhanced reflexes!
'If I'd had that last Christmas, I'd have been able to deal with those human traffickers much easier,' I thought to myself.
And, if I was honest, there was another reason for my renewed interest. Fear. This was the year Voldemort came back, and though he failed (or would fail) to steal the Philosopher's Stone from Hogwarts, this marked the beginning of many changes in the wizarding world. It meant I only had four years to prepare for his inevitable return, and I was not going to let Harry, Sam, Delilah or myself face that future without some sort of back up!
Acquiring lots of money through my businesses was only the first step on my list for preparing against the Death Eaters. I needed more tangible forms of power.
"Seems like it's finally time to schedule a flight to Paris," I muttered to myself as my thoughts came full circle after a somewhat circuitous ride.
Nicholas Flamel. A genius alchemist whose name reverberated through history, and was even known in the Muggle world despite the wizards erasing the evidence of any and all magic thanks to the Statue of Secrecy.
I wanted to meet him. I wanted to learn from him! Would I be able to make my own Philosopher's Stone? No, probably not. But having him teach me even a little bit would make my own projects improve by leaps and bounds! If I could find a way to combine alchemy with my potion making business, I'd be satisfied.
And this was likely the last chance I'd have to do it. If the Stone really did get destroyed as Dumbledore claimed – something I had my suspicions about – then this was the last year I'd be able to meet with the Flamels.
I'd already been planning a summer trip with Sam and Delilah to celebrate my graduation from high school. Perhaps they'd like to come with me to check out the lovely beaches France was known for? Or maybe they'd like to check out their famous cooking!
For now, though, I had a meeting to attend to, and after gathering up my things, called out to Inky.
"Ready to go!" I said, and the House Elf nodded before teleporting us away to a new location.
Ever since the events over Christmas, things had changed for me. The biggest was my new-found friendship with Delilah. She had taken the revelation of magic well. My suspicions about the circumstances behind her birth? Less well. She'd ranted and raved and vowed vengeance on Lucius Malfoy and all of the Death Eaters, before calming down thanks to a second Calming Draught.
After that, I introduced her to Sam and the Finch-Fletchleys. Especially the latter. Had to let them know I wasn't dead after the events at the party, after all. They already knew Delilah Hunt as the daughter of a friend, but knowing she was a Squib made them welcome her into our little Inner Circle. And together, we began to work on establishing my 'herbal medicine' business.
And it was to their home that I was now being taken to, courtesy of Inky. The House Elf popped me into a room that'd been set aside in the Finch-Fletchley's manor just for Inky to come and go.
In exchange for this, I was giving the family a hefty discount on all my magical items. Not just potions anymore. I was making and selling a large number of defensive artifacts for the most part, as what I'd told them about the Death Eaters had spooked Josephine and Earl, and Justin's parents had hired me to do something about warding their home.
As Squib my options were sadly limited, but I did the best I could with several amateur blood wards. Even muggles could benefit from those, so long as they had a steady supply of magical power. As for batteries for the wards' magical energy, I'd made a bunch of runic wardstones that slurped up ambient magical power from the atmosphere.
I adjusted my tie before I left the side room and walked out to the parlor where my two new business partners were waiting.
"I hope I'm not late," I said with a smile as I entered, nodding politely at Josephine Finch-Fletchley and Delilah Hunt, the two I'd been scheduled to meet with.
"You're right on time," Josephine assured me.
"Good. Little Harry sent me a letter and I had to respond to it ASAP. A time sensitive matter," I revealed.
"Is everything alright?" Josephine asked, eyes narrowed at me. With her son being at Hogwarts alongside Harry, it made sense to me that she'd want to be kept in the loop.
"Depends on if you think a teacher trying to kill Harry during a Quidditch match is important or not," I snarked as I sat down at the tea table. "Or the fact that the Groundskeeper is trying to illegal raise a dragon in his home? Or that I believe the Philosopher's Stone is hidden at Hogwarts. Other than that? No, nothing's wrong at all."
I wasn't Dumbledore, I didn't see the need to keep everything hidden from my allies. Some of my knowledge would remain my own, but there were certain facts I felt were safe enough to be spoken about with others.
"What?" Delilah uttered incredulously, staring at me in a deadpan while Josephine's expression was one of horrified disbelief.
"Snape – the utterly incompetent Potions Teacher – apparently tried to Hex Harry's broom during a Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin. As for the dragon, well, Hagrid the Groundskeeper has always been… odd when it comes to what we normal and rational folk would consider dangerous animals. And the Philosopher's Stone is just my guess, since Harry is asking about Nicholas Flamel."
"Nicholas Flamel… you mean he's real?" Delilah asked, surprised.
"Yes. And he's still alive. He did invent a means of maintaining his youth, after all," I said.
"Why would something so valuable be kept at Hogwarts?" Josephine demanded, deciding to latch onto the least immediately dangerous bombshell I'd dropped on her.
"If I had to guess? Bait," I admitted. "I told you how Moldy Shorts was killed, right? Well, the thing is… I, and a few others, don't actually believe he's dead. Merely… corporeally challenged."
"He's a ghost?" Delilah asked while the older woman spluttered. "The biggest, baddest terrorist in decades and he's still alive?"
"'Alive' is probably too strong a word for his current status," I replied. "But yes. That seems to be the case. And the Stone is bait to lure him into a trap, no doubt."
"How could he have survived? I thought you said he exploded!" Delilah demanded.
"Ghosts exist, and there are plenty of ways to achieve a long life in the magical world. But I don't know the specifics behind his survival, though I have my suspicions," I stated.
"Let's… can we discuss something else?" Josephine asked as she rubbed at her temples. "I don't want to think about immortal, undead wizard terrorists right now."
"Quite. We can jibber in fear later," Delilah agreed after a moment. "Right now, it's money time. Well, Edward? What do you have for us today?"
"Three new potions," I informed them. "My Wiggenweld Cream works like a charm as you've no doubt seen, and my hair growth potion-turned-cream is ready to hit the shelves as soon as I have a large stock built up and a store to sell it in. And of course, there's my 'all natural and organic' soap that's basically the Scourgify spell in a bottle, as well as wart and boil removers. But these three new potions will be marketed more for the pharmaceutical market than the consumer one."
"First, we have Skele-Gro. It can fix and regrow bones, be they broken or outright missing. One vial can restore all the bones in your arm within twenty-four hours, although it hurts immensely," I said, placing the first bottle down on the table in front of us. The potion was the color of spoilt milk, and tasted about as bad. "It can heal more than just bone, of course. Cartilage is also fixable. Tiny ear bones end up damaged? Healed! Broken nose? Healed! You still have to set the broken bone, of course, or else it will heal wrong, but we're looking at a recovery period of mere hours instead of days."
I smiled to myself as Delilah and Josephine stared intensely at the vial on the table.
"Next, we have the Corpus Potion, a potion capable of undoing the damage done to a person's organs and fleshy bits. From fixing lungs to soothing stomach ulcers, to even restoring eyesight and hearing," I said. "It can't cure cancer or genetic damage, but things like Black Lung, Appendicitis, heart attacks, blindness, deafness, and way more, are all within its scope." This potion that I put down was a nasty black, tar-like goo that reportedly tasted like raw tripe.
"And last but not least, what is commonly known as the Pensieve potion," I continued, bringing out my last potion. It was thick and silver, like mercury, and tasted like rotten eggs. "Named after the magical artifact, this potion is capable of fixing brain damage. Minor aneurysms, strokes, memory loss from amnesia or otherwise, concussions, and of course, headaches. It can cure all of those!"
Seeing my business partners' shocked expressions brought a grin to my face. "There's an even more potent version that I believe can fix dementia and other major brain illnesses like schizophrenia and Alzheimer's, but the ingredients for that one are far beyond my current budget. Hell, even getting the materials for this single trial sample cost more than any other potion I've done. I'm talking a thousand pounds, minimum, for the cheapest and weakest version of those brews."
"And best of all, each and every potion you see here was brewed by Sam," I concluded proudly. My best friend had come a long way since he'd learned about the magical world and he'd begged me to teach him the subtle art of potion making. "They use magical ingredients and a magical stirring rod as a catalyst, but the fact a non-magical person was able to make all three turn out perfectly shows the idea for mass production is not an impossible dream anymore."
"I don't believe it," Josephine muttered in awe.
"Seriously, though, all of these are literal goldmines! Guaranteed money makers!" Delilah declared, holding up one of my potions. "Take this one for instance! It's a potion that instantly fixes concussions and migraines! And you claim that they have a stronger version for healing all sorts of more severe brain related afflictions, like dementia and Alzheimer's?"
"Most magical folk don't tend to get as many mundane afflictions or even injuries like the rest of us do, but yes, I am well aware of how utterly ridiculously valuable these things are," I affirmed.
"I'm surprised. They seem so… I hate to say 'backwards,' but that's what their culture just screams to me," Josephine said, shooting me an apologetic glance.
"No need to tell me twice," I grunted.
"Anyways, if there's one thing the Wizarding World has more experience in curing than the Mundane side does, it's head trauma, thanks to those crazy broomstick sports of theirs," I continued while sipping at the tea Josephine had provided. "Problem is, they're expensive because they use magical ingredients, and it will take a lot of experimentation to find out mundane analogs for them, if that's even possible at all in the first place."
"A single one of these potions would make a company millions of pounds, at the very least. We're looking at billions if we manage to produce all of them in large enough quantities," Delilah murmured excitedly.
"I think, before we start counting chickens, we get our eggs in some baskets," Josephine suggested. "The potential profits will mean zilch if we can't provide these potions. And for that, we need ingredients. And as you said, Edward, these need magical ingredients, unlike the ones your other potions use."
"I agree," I said. "I can't keep sourcing materials from the Wizarding World. Not solely, and not for the more mundane ones. We need to start finding ways to harvest the resources from non-magical contracts."
"Growing the herbs will be easy enough. Even the rowan tree bark is simple to acquire. But the teeth, hair, and blood of different animals will be hard to farm without raising eyebrows," Josephine commented.
"I know. That's why I worked as hard as I did to invent purely mundane plant and mineral-based concoctions," I reminded her. "It makes the potions less potent, of course, but I've done it. At the very least we can market the goods as 'cruelty free.'"
"That is a good selling point. People lap that up," the matriarch of the Finch-Fletchley household mused.
"Speaking of marketing, I have good news for you in regards to your business endeavors," Delilah said.
"Really? Does that mean…?" I trailed off eagerly, and the young woman smirked at me, flipping her silver hair over her shoulder.
"Congrats," Delilah said, handing me some documents. "Your products have been tested and approved by the MHRA, and the patents have been filed. With a little bit of nudging from my father and British Chemical Concerns to speed it up, of course. Add this in with the successful trademarking and establishment of Cauldron Remedies LLC, and you're ready for business. Once your licenses come in."
I took the files and carefully read them over. Everything seemed to be in order, with the proper signatures and stamps applied.
It was hard to describe the feelings I felt at that moment. This had been my goal, my dream, for years now, and it was finally in reach. I felt… pride. And excitement. This was just the beginning, however. I'd finally reached the starting line after a long, arduous road of grueling training. Time to gear up and get serious.
My paperwork going through so quickly and smoothly was thanks entirely to Delilah. I had no delusions about it being otherwise. Without her father's connections, it wouldn't have been possible. Her father owed me big time for rescuing her, and I'd only met the man once in a face-to-face meeting, but that was enough, and Delilah had also ended up clinging to me afterwards.
Perhaps it was because she felt safe around me. Maybe it was due to the fact I was the closest connection she had to her magical side, now that she knew the circumstances behind her birth. I didn't know, and I didn't care.
Delilah had killed a man to save my life. I couldn't – wouldn't! – simply abandon her after that. And, I would admit, I liked her company. She was smart with a biting tongue. Plus, she had a dry wit and her business savvy exceeded my own by leaps and bounds. We were using each other for our own benefits, and I could care less.
And so, after that fateful Christmas eve where we first met, we started to work together. We were going to take the world by storm! And the first step was getting my potion business up and running. And I needed Delilah's father for that.
My 'old fashioned' medicine was superior to anything else boasting the same effects on the mundane markets. I knew this. To get my creations through what would normally be years of close scrutiny and testing had cost me a few hefty concessions, such as binding myself to Delilah's father, Michael Hunt, and Sir Jonah Briar, the aging oligarch who owned British Chemical Concerns via the massive investment corporation of Gladstone Financial.
Sure, they owned my business and several of my intellectual properties, but it'd been a necessary sacrifice to speed up my plans so they'd actually be viable within a few years. And while it was a bit annoying to have so many 'claims' tying me down, that was just the way of things. Small stores and businesses were always bought up by bigger, more successful ones. I knew that. And of course I had plans to ensure that I would be moving up the corporate ladder in the parent companies so that nobody would be able to tell me how to run my businesses in the future.
But those could wait. Right now, ensuring Cauldron Remedies was up and running before the year was out was paramount. Voldemort was returning, and I had to start spinning my web and laying down traps as soon as I could. I wouldn't let the Death Eaters have their way ever again.
Banishing my darker thoughts to the back of my mind with a flex of Occlumency, I looked at the two women.
"Let's discuss ways to bring in some attention once we open for business," I suggested. "I was thinking we use Dawson's Marketing for some of that."
"The advertising firm Sam's mother works at?" Delilah asked, and I nodded.
"Yup. I felt I owed it to her for her earlier help with my marketing plans."
"Fair enough. I have no complaints with Dawsons. They are a competent and efficient group," Josephine replied. "I will book a meeting with them to see what they are willing to offer."
"Great! Now, I had some ideas for how to do this. I was thinking of making a website so people could order things online, as well as some well-timed radio and TV ads," I suggested.
"The internet? You think it's wise to invest in that?" Josephine inquired. It took a tremendous effort on the part of my Occlumency not to burst into laughter at her question.
"I honestly believe the internet is going to be very important in the future," I said with a straight face. Delilah and Josephine both shared a look, then shrugged and accepted my prediction.
We got down to the nitty-gritty after that. It was boring, but had to be done if I wanted my products to become a household name.
All the while, though, I couldn't help but wonder if I shouldn't have done more to help Harry and his friends with their problem on the 3rd floor.
'I'm sure they'll be alright,' I thought. I wished I could believe myself.
Chapter 31: Chapter 31: Nighttime Capers
Chapter Text
Chapter 31: Nighttime Capers
Harry POV:
"Alright, everything ready?" Harry inquired, looking around at his friends.
"I still think this is ridiculous," Hermione huffed from his left.
"So you aren't coming, then?" Ron asked on Harry's right.
"I never said that!" she protested.
"Neville, you sure you're alright with staying behind? There's still room under the cloak for one more," Harry offered, turning to the last member of the group who was sitting next to Ron. They were in the Gryffindor Common Room, huddled on the couch in front of the fireplace.
Neville shook his head. "It's fine. You need to get the egg away from Hagrid and then up to the Astronomy Tower. But you won't be able to do that if someone doesn't cause a diversion."
"We already have Draco and Filch set to 'ambush' us, so you don't have to do this," Harry pointed out.
"And don't forget Hannah and Susan! They'll be getting the House Elves to help set up some distractions as well," Hermione added.
"Yeah, but what do you think will happen once Draco and Filch figure out the duel was just a sham?" Neville pointed out. "Or if the House Elves don't want to help? We need a third option."
"He's right," Ron said, siding with the slightly pudgy Gryffindor. "Always think several moves ahead. That's how you win at Chess. And, if Fred and George have taught me anything, it's always to have a couple of back-up plans in case something goes wrong. Which it almost always does."
"Fair enough," Harry hummed, unable to deny their sensible points. He then glanced up at the clock that hung above the fireplace. "Alright, it's almost midnight. Time to go!"
He took the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and threw it over the shoulders of himself and two of his friends. Then, they all stood up, hidden from view.
"Good luck, and don't get caught!" Neville said softly as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open before closing a second later.
The trio tiptoed along the empty hallways, quiet as a whisper. Hermione had cast a Muffling charm to make their footsteps even quieter, and it wasn't long before they left the castle without so much as a single portrait noticing them.
Through the dark they hurried, racing across the grounds until they reached Hagrid's hut.
"Remember, Ron will hold the pot while Hermione keeps it nice and warm," Harry reminded his friends.
"We know, mate, just make sure not to drop the cloak on your end," Ron told his best friend.
"Hagrid? Hagrid are you there?" Harry asked as he thumped on the door when they reached it. "It's time!"
The door swung open, and the Groundskeeper looked around before blinking in surprise when Harry revealed his face, letting it look like it was floating eerily in midair.
"It's hatching!" Hagrid said excitedly as he ushered the children inside. He was so excited, he didn't even question the Invisibility Cloak they were using.
"It's what?!" Hermione squeaked in shock as the egg in the pot rattled loudly, and a hissing like a boiling teakettle rang out.
Hagrid eagerly took the egg out from the fireplace with a pair of mitts and gingerly laid it down into a tray full of rocks and sand.
Before their astonished eyes, the smooth shell began riddled with cracks, and then, in a moment they'd never forget for the rest of their lives, the top of the egg shot off, propelled by flames, and what emerged was a surprisingly cute brown and black lizard.
"Oh, it's adorable!" Hagrid cooed as it flopped around in the sand pit, trying to stand. "I'm gonna call him 'Norbert!'"
"Norbert?" Hermione uttered, bewildered by the choice.
"Well, this changes things," Harry muttered to Ron, who nodded, wide-eyed.
"No way we're getting that thing up to the Astronomy Tower without being noticed," Ron grumbled as it eeped cutely before tearing into the hunk of charred meat Hagrid laid in front of it.
"Aww! Look at it go! Only just born and yet it can eat like a champ!" the half-giant said.
The trio exchanged worried looks. "Harry, you better go to the Astronomy Tower and let Charlie know what's going on," Ron suggested.
"Right, on my way," Harry murmured, throwing his cloak back on and hurrying out of the hut back up to the castle. There was a moment of tension when Peeves floated by, giggling to himself, but he didn't notice Harry and the rest of the way to the Astronomy Tower was clear.
Breathing heavily by the time he reached the top of the tower, Harry had to nudge the door open with his shoulder.
'Next time… don't run… up the stairs…' Harry panted a bit.
"Is that you, Harry?" the red-headed member of the trio asked as the door to the Astronomy Tower opened with nobody seemingly there.
"Yes," Harry replied, showing his head by throwing back the cloak. He ignored the intakes of breath as they realized just what it was he was wearing. "But there's been a problem."
"A problem?" one of the other wizards outside the tower asked, a frown evident in his voice.
"Yes. The, uh, egg? It hatched just a little bit ago," Harry revealed.
"Well, dragon-crap," the third member of the dragon handler group uttered. "We're not prepared to haul one of those across the country!"
"We can whip up something," Charlie assured them. "A pot with a lid and a few charms ought to do the trick."
"True," the second handler said. "Where is it?"
"In the Groundskeeper's hut. I'll show you the way," Charlie said, before turning his head back to Harry. "Can you make it back as well, or do you want a ride?"
"Ride, please," Harry requested. "I barely made it past Miss Norris getting up here."
"Alright, hop on," Charlie offered. Harry got on, being very careful with his cloak, and he was
"So, I hear you're the Seeker on the Gryffindor team," Charlie said conversationally as they descended through the dark towards the tiny pinprick of light that was Hagrid's hut.
"Yeah," Harry nodded.
"Youngest in a century, is that right?"
"So they say. I just really like to fly," Harry said with a shrug.
"There's nothing like it," Charlie said with a fond chuckle. "Part of why I love working at the Reserve. You need a broom to fly from one end to the other, and to keep up with the dragons. Got to be careful, though. Fly too fast and they might chase you. But if you don't fly fast enough, then they will catch you."
"Yikes, sounds hazardous," Harry winced, earning a laugh from all three handlers.
"You don't know the half of it!" one of Charlie's coworkers cackled, a bit hysterically in Harry's opinion.
They landed shortly after, and quickly made their way inside the small dwelling at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"He was going to try raising a fire-breathing dragon in here?!" the hysterical member of Charlie's team exclaimed in disbelief.
"He claims he had it fire-proofed," Harry said lamely.
"Dragon fire can easily bypass most fire-proofing charms," Charlie said with a frown. "Unless you're using specialized anti-dragon wards then a dragon would torch this place the first time it sneezed. And then there's the size factor."
"They grow fast. Handheld one day, and a month later they're the size of a dog," the third member of the team noted.
"I'm so glad he decided to hand the dragon over before it got out of hand," Charlie sighed, running a hand over his face.
"He didn't want to at first, but when Susan and Hermione laid out all the rules he'd broken and the penalties for them, he relented," Harry said. "Although I think Ron and Neville also helped make up his mind, as they explained why Norbert would do better in the reserve with his own kind."
"Norbert? What kind of name is that?" one of the dragon handlers muttered. After that, they entered the small dwelling, and Hagrid's face fell when he looked up to greet the newcomers.
"Oh. Yer here," he said with a sad grumble.
"Sorry, Hagrid, but this is just how it works out," Charlie said apologetically.
"Just be glad our boss wants this dealt with nice and quietly, otherwise it could have caused a real stink and you'd be getting arrested. Fined at the very least," Team Member Two said grumpily.
"There's that, yes," Charlie confirmed.
"Okay, so, it looks healthy, that's good," Team Member Three said as he examined the hatchling. "Very nice scale color… wings appear to be intact… and it's a female! Incredible!"
"Norbert's a girl?" Hagrid uttered at the same time Hermione asked, "Why is that so important that the egg hatched a female?"
"Female Norwegian Ridgebacks are rare because of a number of factors, one of which being aggressive nest mates. Other females often find younger ones to be a threat as well, and so it's not uncommon for a female from a different nest to try and smash an egg if it will hatch into a female. I've got to say, that poacher might just have saved this little lady here when he stole her away. Now that she's hatched, we can make sure she makes it to adulthood," Team Member Three explained.
"Let's see… the carrying case we brought with us won't work, so let's see what we have around here. Mr. Hagrid, do you have any cages?" Team Member Two inquired.
"Oh, sure, sure, I've got something over here you can use." As the Groundskeeper looked around for something to put the hatchling in, Hermione continued to ask questions.
"Are there many dragon reserves? What sorts of dragons are there? Is it dangerous?" the bushy-haired girl jabbered.
"There are about a dozen reserves worldwide. One of the oldest and largest reserves in the world is the Romanian Reserve. Only one bigger is in Greenland, and the only one older is in China," Charlie said proudly. "But we have the most diversity over in Romania. We take care of all the dragon species native to the European mainland, like Ukrainian Ironbellies, Hungarian Horntails, Black Forest Dunklezhan, Swedish Shortsnout, and of course Norwegian Ridgebacks."
"Oh! Then, does that mean Greenland has all the ones for places like Iceland and England?" Harry asked.
"Correct! The Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks were all relocated centuries ago to the Greenland Preserve alongside the Icelandic Diver and the Arctic Frostfiend," Charlie confirmed. "There are sites across the world that protect the other species of dragons, of course. But few have as many different species as the Romanian Reserve."
"Little ones all strapped in and ready to go, Weasley!" one of the dragon handlers called out as the door to a fireproofed carrying cage was closed, sealing in young Norbert.
"Anyways, we're really glad you found out what was going on, and informed us as soon as you did," Charlie Weasley said as he and his companions bundled up Norbert into her carrying case. "We'd been looking for the lost egg for weeks."
"Seriously?" Ron asked, surprised, and his older brother fondly tussled his hair, much to Ron's annoyance.
"Yeah. Someone broke into the reserve and stole a nesting Norwegian Ridgeback's egg. Badly wounded the mother in the process. First time in over forty years someone managed to actually steal an egg, too, so the other keepers and me were scrambling madly looking for it on the black market. Never would have thought it'd turn up in Hagrid's hands."
"Are dragon eggs that rare?" Harry asked in surprise.
"There aren't a lot of dragons left in the first place," Charlie said sadly. "And the reserves are some of the most heavily warded areas in the world. Can't have random dragons flying around, spooking the muggles, can we? Especially not with all their aeroplanes."
"That makes sense," Harry admitted with a nod.
"Now, you better hurry on back to the dorms. Don't want to get caught, do you?" Charlie teased as they walked out of the hut, Hargid staring forlornly after Norbert.
"Eh, it's fine. Malfoy and Filch are on the other side of the castle right now," Ron scoffed. "We can sneak past them no problem!"
"That so?" Charlie asked, eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, Draco challenged me to a duel back in February, but he didn't plan on attending, just was using the opportunity to sick Filch on me for being out past curfew," Harry explained. "However, we needed an excuse to help with smuggling Norbert away and for getting back into the dorms later, so I challenged Draco myself this time. Knowing how he thinks, he'll try and get me in trouble again. Our 'duel' is nothing more than an excellent distraction."
"For a Slytherin, he's not very, well, subtle, or all that imaginative," Hermione admitted. "You'd think the 'House of the Ambitious' would breed more cunning individuals."
"Clever!" Charlie smirked, then gave his brother one last hair-tussle before mounting his broom and flying off with his fellow dragon keepers.
"Come on, let's go," Harry said. They bid farewell to Hagrid, and then put the cloak back on.
Unfortunately, things started to take a turn for the worse when the invisible trio reached the grand stairwell. As they made their way up the staircase that led to the 5th floor where the Gryffindor Common Room was, a rumble ran through the steps, and everything suddenly began to move.
"Crap, the stairs are shifting!" Ron uttered, grabbing ahold of the banister as the whole set of staircases began to move and rearrange themselves. In seconds, the previous configuration of connections was undone.
"How did anyone think that moving staircases were a good idea in a school full of children?" Harry demanded in annoyance as the stairs they were on swayed uncomfortably.
"It's a defense mechanism," Hermione responded, though she looked a little green as she did so. "I read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History.'"
"Then why do they keep a defense mechanism active in a school full of children?" Harry uttered.
"Um," Hermione muttered, unable to reply. Thankfully their fun ride was soon over and she didn't have to find an answer. Bad news was, somebody had heard their moaning.
"Who's there!?" a nasally voice demanded, and Harry shivered when a cat meowed after him. The light of a bobbing lantern could be seen in the distance down a corridor and it was rapidly approaching the grand staircase.
"That's Filch!" Ron murmured nervously. "But he's supposed to be near the trophy rooms!"
"Looks like our little trick with Draco didn't work, and Neville couldn't distract him, either," Harry guessed. He looked around, grimacing as he saw that their staircase was no longer connected to the fifth floor, and instead linked up with a landing on the third floor.
Not just any part of the third floor, either, but the very one that Headmaster Dumbledore had declared off-limits.
However, the stairs the trio was on had also connected to the first floor, right in front of where Filch was. Faced with detention, there was only one choice to for Harry to make.
"This way!" Harry hissed, urging his friends to follow him.
"But that's the Forbidden Corridor!" Hermione gasped.
"Do you want to be caught by Filch? Or risk hiding in the mysterious hallway?" Ron shot back, and it took a few seconds before Hermione reluctantly said, "Corridor."
"Great! Now hurry!" Harry said, and they ran, keeping ahead of Filch, but just barely.
"Why aren't there any doors?!" Ron grumbled when they entered the forbidden corridor. To their surprise, there wasn't a single door in sight.
"No, wait, there, across from the portrait of the jousting centaurs!" Hermione pointed out.
"Damn, locked!" Harry hissed when he jiggled the handle desperately. Behind them, they could hear the cruel hissing of Miss Norris as she walked side by side with her equally cruel master.
"Step aside!" Hermione ordered, pushing Harry away. She then flicked her wand out and pointed it at the door. "Alohomora!" she chanted, and there was a faint click.
"Inside, now!" she hissed, and they piled in, hastily close the door behind them.
They heard Filch's footsteps pass them by, along with his demented mutterings about whipping students. The trio held their breath, and only let it go when they could no longer hear his mad ravings.
"Why do they even keep him around?" Ron huffed.
"Probably for the same reason they keep Snape around," Harry muttered darkly.
"Um, Harry? Ron?" Hermione squeaked out, her eyes focused on something behind them. Slowly, and with fear rising in their hearts, the two boys turned around, and looked up. And up. And up some more.
Somehow stuffed inside the cramped, tiny room they'd hurled themselves into was a mountain of fluffy, dark brown fur. Said fur was attached to a gargantuan, three-headed dog that was blinking slowly, waking up from a deep slumber.
"Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ!" Harry hissed out, borrowing a curse he'd overheard Edward use once.
"Let's go. We gotta go," Ron hissed, tugging on his friend's sleeves urgently.
"Yeah. Yeah, good idea," Hermione whimpered. She fumbled a bit before yanking the door open. Just in time, too, as one of the head's noses was twitching, and a low growl that rattled their bones filled the room.
The trio barreled out of the room, locking it behind them with a hastily uttered, "Colloportus!" from Hermione.
None of them dared to say a word, and simply started running through the halls towards the entrance Gryffindor Common Room. They'd been so startled they completely forgot to use Harry's cloak. Luckily, it seemed Filch was nowhere nearby and they were able to get through the moving staircases without incident.
"What the bloody hell is a giant three-headed dog doing in there?!" Ron whimpered as they booked it away from the dog-filled chamber.
"Why are you asking me?!" Hermione snapped.
"Shush! We're almost to the Common Room!" Harry scolded them under his breath. "You can have a mental breakdown when we're safe inside!"
"Tiddlywinks," he said aloud, causing the snoozing portrait to swing open, admitting them inside.
"Hey, you're back!" Neville said as he spotted the portal open up and the trio stumble through. "Sorry, a Prefect caught me before I could get to lure Filch away. I managed to pretend I'd gotten lost and only lost five points for being out past curfew…"
He trailed off as he saw their pale faces, and he groaned into his hands. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! What sort of trouble did you get us into now?"
"So, uh, we might have figured out why that corridor on the third floor is off limits," Harry said, and Neville groaned a little bit louder.
"Of course you did. Of course!"
"At least we got the dragon away safely," Ron said with a sigh as he slumped into the couch next to Neville.
"Wait, dragon? Not the egg?" Neville uttered. "Did it hatch?!"
"Yeah. Let me tell you about our night," Harry said, and he regaled the fourth member of their group about their little adventure, all the way up to the point they found the three-headed dog.
"Well… yikes," Neville muttered. "And now there's a new mystery afoot."
"Hopefully we'll know what the deal is with that Nicholas Flamel guy soon," Harry said, before a yawn burst out of him. He clapped a hand over his mouth, flushing red with embarrassment, and Ron sniggered at him, until a yawn escaped the red-head.
"We should probably get to bed," Hermione said, trying to hold back a yawn of her own. It was futile, however, and she also blushed red as she let out a jaw-cracking yawn.
After that, the students snuck back to their dorms, ready to go to sleep. As they settled down, though, Harry couldn't help but find that his mind was racing.
'What is going on in this school?' he couldn't help but wonder as he stared at the ceiling of his bed.
The next morning came far too quickly for Harry, and he desperately wanted to sleep in. It was the weekend, after all.
But, despite all the protests of his body, he sat up and got out of bed and ready for the day. The group had agreed to meet up at breakfast to discuss the events of last night with Hannah and Susan, as well as wait for Edward's response via Hedwig.
"Why does the sun hate us?" Ron grumbled as he staggered out of bed.
"I wish I was a plant," Neville said with a sigh, running a hand through his messy bed-head. "Then the sun would actually serve a purpose."
Harry only managed a nod in response as he yawned loudly, jaw cracking with the effort. Glancing around, the Boy-Who-Lived noticed that the other boys, Dean and Seamus, had already gotten up.
'I should find a way to do some homework or something with the other Gryffindors,' Harry mused. He liked his friend group, but he couldn't help but feel worry that Dean and Seamus might feel left out. He knew they hung out with some of the other First Years from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but there was no reason not to invite them to a study group or something.
As he was thinking about this idea as he walked downstairs with Ron and Neville, he almost missed the curious looks Fred and George were giving him from their spot in a corner of the room. Why? Did they perhaps notice the group come in late last night? He didn't get an answer, as a couple seconds later, Hermione appeared.
"Good morning!" Hermione said cheerfully as she bounced down the stairs to greet her friends in the Common Room.
"You're too peppy this early in the morning, Hermione," Ron said with a slight groan. "Could you please turn it down a bit?"
"Oh, sorry," Hermione apologized, looking down at the ground, embarrassed.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Harry assured her. "But you're a morning person, and we… are not."
"Let's get breakfast," Ron suggested. "That's the only good thing mornings have going for them."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's comment, but nodded all the same, and the quartet of friends exited the dorm and headed down to the Great Hall to meet up with the final two members of their group.
The two Hufflepuffs had bags around their eyes, while Hannah looked like she was about to use her omelet as a pillow.
"You two don't look good," Harry noted, before wincing at his choice of words. He hastily continued, "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, just… didn't get a lot of sleep last night," Hannah whined, Susan nodding in agreement.
"Sorry," Harry said.
"We appreciate the help you gave us, running distractions against Filch with Neville," Hermione assured the pair. Hannah and Susan shared a look with each other
"Actually," Susan began, before going quiet. She looked around before leaning in. "We found something last night while hiding from Filch."
"What did you find?" Harry asked, intrigued. What could have caused the two of them to lose sleep?
"We found this mirror," Hannah began, before yawning loudly.
"We a found a mirror that was in an unused classroom on the First Floor," Susan said, picking up from where her friend had left off. "It was… odd. Very odd."
"Odd how?" Hermione asked.
"When we looked into it, we saw things…" Susan said softly, looking down at her plate.
"Took us a while to figure out it wasn't showing the future or past or anything like that, but merely your 'heart's desire,'" Hannah said with an embarrassed shake of her head. "Though given how it had the instructions written on the dang thing, I feel really silly for not figuring it out sooner."
"To be fair, the 'instructions' were written backwards," Susan pointed out.
"Yeah, yeah," Hannah huffed.
"So, we've got a magical stone that does stuff normal witches and wizards say is impossible, a three-headed dog hiding in the 3rdfloor corridor, and a magical mirror that only shows your heart's desires in an unused classroom on the 1st floor," Harry said. "How much do you want to bet all three things are connected somehow?"
"No bet," Hannah drawled, and Susan let out a giggle as she nodded along with Hermione.
"So, you think the Philosopher's Stone will be hidden in the room the dog is guarding?" Neville asked nervously.
"What else could it be doing in there?" Ron asked. "We should find somebody to talk to about this. See if anyone knows anything about three-headed dogs."
"Let me guess, we're going to ask Hagrid," Neville said.
"Who else do we know that's crazy about dangerous magical creatures?" Ron laughed, and the others joined in, though Harry couldn't help but note that Susan's laugh was hollow, compared to the rest.
After breakfast, as the group left the Great Hall, Harry tapped Susan on the shoulder and motioned with his head towards a corner where they could talk. Susan nodded her head nervously, and walked with Harry over to the spot he'd indicated.
"I think I know what you saw in the mirror," he told her, and Susan flinched.
"Yeah?" she asked uncertainly.
"It was your parents, wasn't it?" Harry guessed, and her eyes widened for a moment before she nodded.
"I thought so," Harry said quietly.
"How'd you know?" Susan asked him, and he gave her a sad smile.
"Because that's probably what I would see if I looked in the mirror, too," he admitted.
Susan blinked at the Boy-Who-Lived, before a look of realization crossed her face. Then, she frowned. "You're going to tell me not to try and find the mirror again, aren't you?"
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"You're just like Hannah," she grumbled, though there was fondness to it. She then gave him a searching look.
"Why would you ask that of me?" Susan demanded softly. "You say your greatest wish is to see your parents again, but you won't use the mirror as well? Worse, you're also telling me not to?"
"And that's exactly why I'm asking you not to go back to the mirror," Harry begged. "Please believe me, I want to go find it, just as badly as you do. I-I don't remember my parents at all. I don't even have any pictures of them! But I know that if I go to that mirror, I'd never want to leave it. It would become an obsession. For both of us. I don't want that to happen."
Susan opened her mouth to argue, and Harry shook his head, cutting her off before she could speak. "Susan, you said the mirror only shows you what you want. Well, do you think your parents would want you to sit in front of a mirror all day?"
"No," she muttered, looking down.
"Susan, please don't go back to the mirror," Harry pleaded. "More than anyone I understand the temptation, and if you'd told me about this a year ago, I'd have gone with you to find it in a heartbeat. But now… now I have friends. People who like me. And I don't want to see any of them become sad. That includes you. And you will become sad if you try to rely on that mirror."
"You…" Susan huffed, tears in her eyes, but she nodded before wiping her face with her sleeves. "Fine. I won't go."
"Thank you," Harry said. Then, for some reason that he didn't really understand, he leaned in and hugged her. Susan went stiff in his arms, before relaxing after a second and returning his embrace.
"You suck at hugging," Susan murmured.
"I haven't had a lot of practice," he replied apologetically.
"We'll have to fix that," she said with a firm nod, and Harry meekly nodded back.
"Come on, let's go before they wonder where we are and why we're taking so long," Susan suggested as they broke apart. Then, they hurried off to find their friends so they could head down to Hagrid's hut. It was time to find out about this new mystery on the 3rd floor.
A few minutes later, Harry and his 'study group' were down at the hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A quick knock on the door summoned a round of barking from Fang, as expected, but it took longer for it to open up than usual.
"Hullo?" Hagrid uttered, opening the door to his hut and looking down at the six of them with red, bleary eyes.
"Hagrid, have you been crying?" Ron asked, before letting out an "Oof!" as Hannah elbowed him in the ribs for his insensitive query.
"Sorry 'bout that, kids," he apologized. "I just miss little Norbert."
"We're very sorry we got Charlie to take Norbert away," Harry told him. "But it was for the best."
"I know that," Hagrid grumped. "Doesn't make it any easier to see yer baby leave."
"I'm sure if you ask, Charlie wouldn't mind letting visit in the future," Ron said, offering an olive branch to the large Groundskeeper.
That worked to cheer him up, and that made the kids themselves happy. Seeing Hagrid sad was no fun. Harry private felt like it was akin to looking at a depressed puppy. A very big and strong puppy with no sense of danger, but a puppy all the same.
'And thinking of puppies…' Harry thought to himself, feeling a faint flicker of amusement at the comparison.
"Hey, Hagrid, we had a question for you," Harry said as they filed inside the Groundkeeper's hut.
"Oh? Ask away," Hagrid replied, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth.
"I had a question about magical creatures. What do you know about three-headed dogs?" Harry asked curiously.
"How'd you find out about Fluffy?!" Hagrid demanded, staring at the students in shock.
"Fluffy?" Hermione uttered in bewilderment, while Neville and Hannah shared an exasperated 'of course he'd name it that!' moment. Ron and Susan just looked like they were trying not to laugh.
"Yer not supposed t'be in the third-floor corridor! Dumbledore said it was off-limits!" Hagrid huffed.
"I never said anything about the third floor," Harry said slyly. "I was just curious because Muggles have a legend about three-headed dogs and I wanted to know what the wizards had."
"Ah, err, that is, I mean," Hagrid stammered as he realized he'd been caught.
"Hagrid, there wouldn't happen to be a giant, deadly dog-monster guarding a room in the third-floor corridor, would there?" Harry pressed. "Because that sounds incredibly risky."
"Well, first off, Fluffy is no monster," Hagrid huffed. "He's a Hellhound, and he's a good boy! Easy to take care of, even though he's stuck in the room guarding the… I mean, uh, he's not guarding anything!"
"Hagrid, if Dumbledore really wanted people to stay away from the hallway and that room, then he'd have done more than warn us away and keep the door closed with a lock a second-year charm could open," Susan pointed out dryly.
"Keeping a giant dog, three-headed or otherwise, inside a tiny room to guard something is very irresponsible and dangerous!" Hermione exclaimed. "And probably breaks a whole bunch of rules!"
"Of course, that is what she focuses on," Ron muttered to Neville and Hannah, who both snickered and nodded.
"Oh, no, Fluffy is very kind and playful! Perfectly safe! He'd never attack a student! And if he ever does get upset and rowdy, a little bit of music is enough to calm him down…" Hagrid protested, only to trail off as he realized he'd spilled the beans. Again.
"Hagrid… have you told anyone else about Fluffy?" Harry couldn't help but wonder.
"Err, no, of course not!" Hagrid quickly replied. Too quickly.
"Oh, lord, you told the person you got the dragon egg from, didn't you?" Harry realized as he stared at the nervous half-giant.
"What?! Ridiculous!" Hagrid spluttered. "Sure I had a couple o'drinks to celebrate winning the egg from the hooded bloke, and sure, he asked a lot of questions about what sort of animals I'd worked with before…"
Hagrid trailed off as he slowly began to realize that he might have, just maybe, told a random stranger about a guardian animal's weakness.
"Hooded bloke? So, you never saw who you got the egg from?" Ron asked, no doubt curious on behalf of his older brother. The dragon preserves would likely want to know who exactly it was that'd given Hagrid the dragon egg, so they could find out who'd poached it in the first place.
"No, never saw his face. And you can't tell anyone about Fluffy!" Hagrid pleaded. "It's very important that nobody besides Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel know about him!"
"We promise, Hagrid," Harry vowed, and the Groundskeeper sagged in relief, before perking up a bit.
"Oh, look at the time! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a busy day and a long night ahead. Gonna have to ask you kids to leave," Hagrid requested, ushering them out of his hut before he could reveal any more secrets.
When the door slammed shut, the six shared a look.
"Hagrid doesn't have a clock… or a watch," Ron mumbled. "How does that excuse work?"
Everyone shrugged in bewilderment and walked towards the castle.
"So, any bets on the thing guarded by 'Fluffy' being the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked, glancing at his friends.
"No," everyone replied with a deadpan expression on their faces.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Harry sighed. "So… what next?"
"I think we just leave it alone," Susan offered. "If Dumbledore wants to protect the stone with his inefficient security measures, who are we to argue with him?"
Harry nodded in agreement, but he couldn't help but feel like he and his companions would end up slapped down and forced to deal with it anyways.
He wasn't sure where this feeling was coming from, though, but resolved to find an answer. 'Maybe I should ask Edward about Divination when I see him next. If those bones of his can predict the future, maybe I can, too.'
Nothing of note happened the rest of the day. The friend group did a bit of studying, and Harry decided to try and get a few other people to join them. Besides Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff along with Terry Boot were invited along to spend time with Harry, Ron, and Neville, while Hermione, Hannah, and Susan had girl time with their counterparts in the other houses.
From all accounts, it turned out pretty well. At the very least, Harry no longer felt slightly guilty for excluding his fellow First Years from the circle of friends.
'I wonder if they'll join us for the hijinks in the future?' Harry couldn't help but wonder as they gathered in the Great Hall for a nice Sunday breakfast.
"Did you hear? Malfoy nearly got attacked by something in the Forbidden Forest last night!" Dean excitedly said to the other Gryffindor students at the table the next morning.
"Yeah, it had something to do with the unicorn attacks!" Seamus chattered eagerly, his accent coming in strong as his emotions rushed ahead.
"Wait, what?" Harry exclaimed, bewildered, a fork full of baked beans pausing halfway to his mouth. "Why was Draco in the forest in the first place?"
"Unicorn attacks?" Ron uttered. "But unicorns don't attack people! They run away!"
"No, I mean, it seems somebody has been attacking unicorns!" Seamus replied. "I heard it from Terry Boot in Ravenclaw, who heard it from Justin and Ernie in Hufflepuff, who overheard Professor Sprout discussing it with the other heads of house!"
"As for why the little Malfoy was there, it seems that was his punishment for being caught out past curfew the other night," Dean continued.
"That's…" Harry uttered, trying to come up with a word to define how stupid that was. "They made a student investigate a monster in the Forbidden Forest that was attacking other creatures within it?"
"I heard Hagrid was with him," Dean said.
"And his giant dog, Fang!" Seamus added.
"That dog's not that giant," Ron muttered under his breath.
"Fangs a total coward," Harry piped up before Dean or Seamus could wonder what Ron had meant. "And isn't the point of the forest that it is forbidden? As in, stay away from it? It's in the name, for crying out loud!"
"It does seem very reckless to have any student accompanying Hagrid on a monster hunt, no matter how safe it might seem," Hermione agreed. "I really don't think staying out past curfew warrants like that of punishment, either."
"Yeah, it's really weird," Padma agreed. "Why do you think it happened?"
"What if Lucius Malfoy finds out?" Lavender wondered. "He's on the school board! No way he'd let that happen!"
"Gran's also on the school board, and she says Lucius has been trying to get Hagrid fired for years," Neville said softly. "If Draco complains, it could become a whole thing."
"Do you think he will?" Harry asked in concern. He shot a curious glance over at the Slytherin table, trying to see what Draco might have been thinking.
Unlike how he normally acted, that morning Draco was very quiet and subdued, silently eating a bowl of porridge. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting closer to him than usual, and the Slytherins as a whole seemed oddly nervous.
'Looks like one of their own nearly being gutted by a unicorn-eating monster seems to have shaken their aura of invincibility,' Harry noted with interest.
Normally, the students in the House of the Snake acted like they were untouchable. And, in a way, they were. Between the high proportion of wealthy and influential purebloods and Snape's blatant favoritism, Slytherin students rarely got punished or had to suffer the consequences of their actions. But wild beasts didn't care how pure your blood was. Blood was blood and Harry was sure there were some hungry critters hiding in the trees.
The sudden bout of subdued humility wouldn't last very long, but Harry planned on enjoying it while he could.
'Hopefully, being saved by Hagrid will convince Draco to leave him alone, at least for now,' Harry hoped to himself.
"What's first on the schedule today?" Seamus asked, distracting Harry from his thoughts and dragging his attention back to the Gryffindor table.
"Herbology with the 'Puffs," Lavender said helpfully. "I can't wait! I heard we'll be learning about Many-Scented Orchids today!"
"You're interested in them?" Neville asked, surprised, and Lavender nodded eagerly.
"That's right! I heard you can make all kinds of perfumes with them!" Lavender replied. "Their oil is also what is used to make Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans!"
The idle chatter between students continued until they reached the greenhouses, which were one of the more interesting parts of Hogwarts. Where most of the castle was very medieval in design, the greenhouses were oddly modern, at least in appearance and function.
It was also the only class that seemed to take the concept of 'safety measures' into account for the students and provided gloves, goggles, and other safety gear. Perhaps they realized how dangerous handling poisonous or magical plants with their bare hands could be? Or maybe it was just Professor Sprout who was the odd one out among the Hogwarts staff?
'If only Snape's potion classes had the same level of preparedness,' Harry griped to himself as he tugged on a pair of thick leather gardening gloves.
"Good morning, students! Today, we will be learning how to tend to Many-Scented Orchids today!" Professor Sprout said cheerfully as class began. "Now, you'll want to be careful with how you handle them! The roses will make different scents based on the way they are treated!"
She flicked her wand, and two dozen flower pots floated over to each student, a single pink and orange orchid flower growing in them.
"Today, we will go over how to prune them, change their soil, and harvest the petals," Sprout said. "Does everyone have a flower?"
The lesson was interesting, if a bit smelly due some of the orchids emitting foul stenches whenever a student gripped the stem too hard, gave it too much water, or plucked a petal incorrectly. Harry was really impressed by Neville, though. The quiet young boy was the only student who didn't make a single mistake when it came to handling his plant.
"Great job, Neville!" Ron praised as the class ended and everyone fled the greenhouses to escape the cloying stink.
"Yeah, your hands were so steady," Harry said. "Not a trace of nerves in sight!"
"Longbottom Manor has a big garden," Neville said, blushing from the compliments he was receiving. "I like tending to it. It's peaceful."
"That's really neat," Hermione said. "I've tried gardening before. Is it hard?"
"It can be," Neville admitted. "But I think the hard work is worth it."
They then had to pick up the pace to make it to their next class of the morning.
"Hey, there's Hannah and Susan," Ron pointed out, spotting the two Hufflepuffs in the hallway.
"Morning, you two. Did you know Draco got attacked in the forest? And that there's a guy attacking unicorns?" Harry asked as they caught up to two Hufflepuff friends as they entered the Transfiguration classroom together.
"Yeah, we heard it from Justin and Ernie," Hannah confirmed.
"And then we double-checked it ourselves with Daphne and Tracy in Slytherin. They couldn't confirm the unicorn bit, but it does seem like Draco was spooked by something in the Forbidden Forest," Susan added.
"That still sounds so stupid every time I hear it," Harry muttered. "Why punish a student with near death like that?"
Then he paused and waited for Hermione to chime in. When she didn't, he looked over at her. He wasn't the only one. Everyone else in their friend group looked at her in concern. The bushy-haired witch blushed in annoyance and glared at them.
"What?" she demanded.
"Uh, usually you're so quick to defend the school," Ron pointed out.
"Yeah. And you also often have a quote or anecdote or factoid from Hogwarts, A History," Susan added.
"Yes, well, even I think venturing into a forest that was declared off-limits as some sort of punishment is a stupid idea," Hermione huffed.
"Fair enough," Harry said.
Their conversation was put on pause when Professor McGonagall entered, flicking her wand and sending a bunch of metal needles over to their desks.
"You've all learned how to turn a matchstick into a needle. Now, you will learn the opposite: how to a needle into a matchstick," she said brusquely. "This will require a bit more focus than usual, as unlike a needle, a match is made up of two distinct portions. The wooden part, or handle, and the head, which ignites when struck."
'Now this is interesting,' Harry mused to himself. A match was considerably more complex than a needle. Did the spell actually reproduce the chemicals in a matchhead, or was it merely mimicking it the look? Did a transfigured match still work in that case?
The lesson was fascinating, but Harry's mind was too distracted to take it in properly. He just couldn't stop thinking about Draco's misadventure in the Forbidden Forest, and also his worries with the third-floor corridor.
"You look distracted, Harry," Susan said, looking at him in worry as they sat at the Hufflepuff table for lunch. "Is everything alright?"
"Just can't stop thinking about the stone," he replied, keeping it vague in case anyone was listening.
"Ah, yeah, it's real mystery. Tempting, too," Hannah said. "Can you imagine? All the gold you could ever want, right at your fingertips!"
"But there's a giant dog guarding it," Ron said, not unreasonably. "It'd take a powerful wizard to overpower it!"
"Actually, that part wouldn't be too difficult," Harry admitted. "Even if we didn't already know what the secret to bypassing it was thanks to Hagrid. I mean, surely the library would have something on its breed?"
"That's… huh, that makes sense," Neville mused. "The Hogwarts library is the largest collection of literature in Wizarding Britain. If any place would have a book on, uh, Fluffy, it'd be here."
"So, who do you think would be the thief?" Harry asked, looking at his friends as they ate lunch. "It has to be somebody already in the castle. Probably a teacher."
"It's gotta be Snape!" Ron protested. "He was casting that hex on your broom at the Quidditch game!"
"And he was limping a bit for a day or two after the troll showed up," Susan added, tapping her chin thoughtfully, a nervous tick she'd picked up from Harry, who'd picked it up from Edward.
"He was?" Harry asked, surprised.
"He was. Didn't you notice?" Neville asked.
"To be honest, I just ignore him in class," Harry admitted, a snort of amusement from Hannah. "I listen to the instructions and then just tune him out. I have better things to do than listen to the greasy git insult me and my housemates."
"Harry!" Hermione said, scandalized. "You shouldn't say that about a professor!"
"Even if he is one?" Susan asked, earning another huff of laughter from Hannah.
"Yeah, he's a bloody tosser, and he sucks at teaching," Harry declared. "Come to think of it, this does paint a pretty bad picture of him. Maybe he really is trying to steal the stone!"
"No swearing!" Hermione scolded. "And it's all circumstantial evidence anyways! Next you'll say he's the one killing unicorns!"
"He teaches potions. That means he's got to know all sorts of different ingredient suppliers, right?" Harry asked, continuing his thread of thought. "He could have gotten the dragon's egg off the black market, and as a member of the Hogwarts faculty, he would have known about Hagrid's inability to lie properly and desire for a dragon of his own, and leverage it for information on what guards the stone. Perhaps he got injured trying to steal it, and that's why he was limping?"
"Just because he's, uh, somewhat biased against you, doesn't mean he's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione said exasperatedly. She looked around for an ally. "Right, Neville?"
"Um, well, maybe," Neville stammered.
"You too?" the bushy-haired witch asked, aghast at the lack of respect towards the Potions professor.
"I mean, he's not a very nice man," Neville replied weakly.
"Harry has a point," Susan claimed, swooping in to save Neville from Hermione's death glare. "A Potions master like Snape would probably know about black market suppliers for the hard-to-get ingredients. It's not beyond the pale he could have obtained the stolen egg."
"Assuming he didn't steal it himself," Hannah pointed out.
"Seriously?" Hermione asked, annoyed.
"Come on, Hermione, surely you can also see how much of a toss- I mean, bad teacher he is," Ron argued. "Why are you playing Devil's Advocate for him?"
"Because somebody has to!" Hermione said angrily.
"Alright, I suppose that's fair," Harry said, raising his hands to placate the upset witch.
"If it turns out we were wrong about our assumptions, you can always say, 'I told you so,'" Hannah told Hermione.
"Maybe I will!" she declared.
Harry couldn't help but laugh. Even if someone was trying to steal a magical artifact, it was nice to know he could rely on his friends, no matter what.
Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Birthday Surprises
Chapter Text
Chapter 32: Birthday Surprises
It was April First. All Fool's Day. More importantly, it was my birthday. And what made this particular birthday so special was that it was my 18th birthday, according to my forged muggle birth certificate.
I was now an adult in the mundane world. I could vote, I could buy property, I could do all sorts of stuff with my ascension to adulthood. It was liberating, in a way.
'Now if only it wasn't raining cats and dogs,' I grumbled despondently as I sloshed through another puddle as I walked the short distance from the bus stop to Archibald's office building. It was hard to get into a festive mood when the weather was so poor.
"How are you doing today?" Archibald asked politely as I entered his office. I was wet from the rain that was drenching the city, and uttered a huff as I gave silent thanks to my warming runes sewn into my coat.
"Soggy," I replied. Springtime in London was a rainy time. He just nodded in sympathy and switched to a different topic.
"I have good news," he said. "I got you a recommendation letter to Oxford, just as you asked."
"Yes! That should help a lot," I said with a grin. "And with the one I'm getting from the Finch-Fletchley's, I'll be a shoo-in!"
"Tuition costs won't be cheap, even with those scholarships you're applying for," Archibald cautioned me.
"That's why I'm stepping up production on my products," I declared as I sat down. "Do you have any more information on the storefronts available that I asked about?"
"I do," he said, taking out a folder for me to peruse. "Of course, buying a place to start your business and all those supplies will be expensive as well. It won't be easy to pay for both your education and your business, even with a loan and scholarships."
"I'll make do," I said. It was more of a vow, in truth. I wasn't going to let anything stop me.
Archibald stared at me for a moment, before nodding. "Very well, then. I'm just here to advise you, after all."
He leaned back in his chair. "So, how is school going?"
"Top of my class, but that's no big deal," I replied. "Graduation is only a couple months away and there's no way I can flunk the exams."
'And Harry will be back around then, too. Late afternoon on June 26th is when the Hogwarts Express is due back. I can't wait! I hope he likes his welcome home present,' I thought to myself. I wasn't going to let Harry spend more time than necessary at the Dursleys. He'd spend the minimum two weeks – fifteen days at most, just to be on the safe side – to recharge his Love Barrier and the Blood Wards protecting the house, and then I was whisking him away to my apartment. I'd get a spare cot set up if I had to. Or maybe I'd smuggle him to the Weasleys. Yeah, that would work. But first, he'd be going with me to France!
'Note to self, have Inky be on the lookout for Dobby,' I mused idly as I thought about the events of Book Two. If I could convince the Malfoys' abused House Elf to work with me in protecting Harry, then I hoped he wouldn't try any funny business with blocking Harry's mail or messing with the Bludgers.
I then dismissed those thoughts for the moment with a bit of Occlumency, and returned my attention to the contents of the folder.
It contained a number of different storefronts and buildings that were within my price range and had good – or at the very least decent – rents or leasing agreements. I wasn't going to be able to outright buy anything, not yet, so this was what I'd have to live with.
In the end, I narrowed my choices down to two – a former bakery, and a laundromat. The bakery would be good as potion brewing was very much like cooking, and the layout of the electrical wiring meant I would be able to move in and set up my mixers and other brewing items without issue, as well as it having a good-sized storage area. The laundromat had similar benefits, but was closer to the city and was thus more expensive. It was also part of a chain of buildings, mean there were stores built above, below and to the side of it. I'd get more foot traffic too, compared to the bakery, which was located firmly in the suburban outskirts of London.
"I'll have to keep thinking on it," I said after passing my choices back to Archibald. "Let me know if somebody else tries to horn in on either."
"I can do that. By the way, Happy Birthday, Edward," Archibald said, giving me a nod.
"Thank you," I said, touched by his words. I then stood and shook his hands. "I hope to keep doing business with you in the future."
He nodded in agreement. Squibs gotta squib together, after all.
After my short meeting with Archibald, I had another one to get ready for later in the evening. I had a dinner planned with my mother, but before that I was going to see a movie with Sam and his family.
We ended up watching Cape Fear, a thriller by Martin Scorsese, even though Kate and Mrs. Parson had tried to get me, Sam, and Mr. Parson to watch a rom-com called Father of the Bride. I couldn't recall seeing either film in my past, so it was a treat to experience something new.
But once that was done, and I'd bid the Parson's farewell, I hurried back to my apartment to change and get ready to meet my mother at Lumpkin's Patch.
"Inky, how do I look?" I asked the loyal old House Elf as I put on my dress robes and a tie.
"You look excellent, Young Master Eddy," Inky praised.
"Great! Mind popping me over to the house?" I requested, and he snapped his fingers. We went from my bedroom to Lumpkin Patch's living room.
'Hasn't changed a bit,' I mused thoughtfully.
"Edward, welcome home," Wisteria Hunch said, having heard the telltale popping sound of displaced air that accompanied Inky's teleportation.
"Hello, mother, how have you been?" I inquired, stepping forward to give her a fond embrace of greeting. She looked good, wearing an upbeat expression as I hugged her. She smiled so much more often compared to before that day.
"I am well," she replied. "Come, sit, and talk."
She led me into the dining room where plates had been set up for a meal for two. There was soup bubbling in a pot on the stove and the smell of garlic suffused the air, making me drool a bit in eager anticipation of the feat to come.
"Son, before we start to eat, I need to talk to you about something," she said, her voice unusually stern, and I was immediately on guard.
"About what?" I asked, careful to conceal any of my panic of fear from her.
"You are sixteen now, but to the muggles, you are older. An adult, in their world. Not to mention you're about to finish your schooling," Wisteria said, and I sagged a bit in relief at what the topic was about. Unfortunately, she took my reaction the wrong way, and immediately tried to reassure me.
"No, no! It's not what you think, I am not throwing you out or anything! You're always still welcome here, at home, whenever you need!" she hastily said.
"I see," I replied neutrally, recomposing myself. "What, then?"
For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something, but struggled to find the words. Eventually, though, she declared, "I'm proud of you."
"Huh?" I uttered, confused.
"I was always worried you would struggle to fit in. Here or in the muggle world. But now… now I'm not. You have done so well for yourself. Far better than I ever imagined, or dared to hope," Wisteria Hunch said, and I flinched a bit at that. Even though she was trying to be supportive, her words still stung unintentionally.
"That's why… oh, I'm not good with words right now. Here," my mother said, passing me a slip of parchment. I took it, and then blinked in surprise when I saw what I was holding. It was a bank draft for a little over one thousand galleons!
"It's not much, but that is the money we would have spent on your seven years of schooling at Hogwarts," my mother told me. "It's yours to do with as you wish. Open up that business of yours, or whatever else you want to do!"
"It costs over a hundred galleons a year for admission?" I asked, surprised.
"Well, yes. Where did you think the school got its money to pay for the professors and everything else, like food and sundries?" Wisteria Hunch chuckled. "Plus, the books and other supplies cost a pretty sickle."
"Good point," I murmured. "I always thought Hogwarts was free, or at least ministry sponsored."
"Hogwarts predates the Ministry," my mother tutted, amused to be teaching me for a change.
"Then how did poor students pay in the past? And I highly doubt many Muggleborn in the past could afford a hundred galleons a year."
A hundred galleons might only be half a grand in Pounds Sterling now, but for the 90's that was still fairly expensive as far as schooling went. And the price disparity would have been even worse centuries ago as most wealth was owned by nobles, and peasants would have had next to nothing. Hell, even fifty years ago a hundred galleons would have been more than a middle-class factory worker could afford to pay for their kids!
"There are a number of options. And in the old days, Hogwarts would pay for students who couldn't afford it by having the students work for the school during summers and holidays. That's where the Prefects position originated from. They were students who were paying off their debt to the school," my mother explained. "Also, many of them might become apprentices or teachers themselves. Nowadays, though, the ministry offers several loans and deals as does Gringotts. Though their loans generally stipulate that you are agreeing to work for them upon graduation, and your wages are garnished until you pay your debts back."
"That's surprisingly sensible," I mused. "And those who can't do either of those things? Are there any charities?"
"None for Muggleborn, and you'd need to be a Pureblood or a well-connected half-blood to benefit from anything like that," my mother said with a shake of her head. "And if a Muggleborn can't afford Hogwarts, or are unwilling or unable to take a loan or attend any other school, then the Ministry binds their magic and Obliviate the student and parents."
'Eeesh, no wonder the magical population is dwindling with responses like that,' I thought darkly. 'Student debt is no joke even in the magical world it seems.'
I then sent my mother a warm smile. "Thank you for the gift, mom. I'll spend the money wisely."
I looked down at the slip of parchment in my hands and tried not to jump in joy. Almost a thousand galleons! That was about five thousand pounds! And for the current time period I was living in, that was a lot. It could cover a down payment of a loan for my business! Or ease the burden of tuition for college!
But then a crazy – and risky – thought struck me. I knew things. Things about the past from my world that might apply to this one's future.
Who'd won the European Football (or Soccer) Cup in 1992? Denmark, that's who. At a score of 2 to 0 against Germany. Though that was only because Yugoslavia was disqualified due to no longer being a country anymore, or some other issues on the international stage.
I knew this somewhat useless fact because 1992 was the year I'd been born in my last world, and I'd looked up a bunch of random factoids about the year of my birth just because I could. The 25th Olympics opened in Barcelona in 1992. Also, it was the year the Cartoon Cable Network – or the channel more commonly known as Cartoon Network – first premiered.
Would that be the same in this world I was in? Could I… could I bet on what was going to happen?
I'd already made plans to take advantage of the late 1990's tech bubble in America, but that was some years away. I needed money now, and if things followed through the same here as they did there…
"Edward, I know that look on your face," my mother scolded me, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"What? I was just thinking about business opportunities!" I protested.
"I know," she said with a smirk. "Now's not the time for that, though. Today's your birthday. So put those thoughts away. It's time for dinner."
I huffed but nodded, tucking the bank draft into my pocket and focusing on the dinner that Inky was bringing out for us.
When dinner was over, Inky returned me to my bedroom, where I quickly got ready for bed. But I found wasn't able to sleep, despite needing to rest for school tomorrow. Instead, my thoughts whirled. I couldn't stop thinking about the money I'd received from mother.
Thinking about my sudden windfall had also gotten me thinking about economics in general. And from there, I began to dredge through my mind using Occlumency for what I may have learned in school back in my old life to try and help me with finding a way to invest my newfound wealth.
Looking through my memories of the 'past,' I stumbled across something from one of my college classes that made me very nervous.
Black Wednesday. A day in September of 1992 where the value of the British Pound Sterling crashed violently due to its exchange rate doing poorly. The government lost over three billion pounds and the value of its money dropped badly, causing terrible inflation and a housing market crash.
'Damn it,' I thought to myself as I rolled out of bed and fetched some pen and paper. 'I'm going to be tired in the morning!'
It had been a long time since I'd had the urge to write down any of my knowledge. Not since my Occlumency training had progressed to the point my memory recall worked on command, at least.
But the thought of an economic depression scared me enough to want to jot some feverish notes down, just to clear my head. Black Wednesday was, from what I recalled, the beginning of a slow spiral for the pound and British economy that it never really recovered from, even several decades later in my timeline.
Yet, it also excited me!
So many possibilities! So many chances to exploit my future knowledge for my own benefit!
But I would need help. Lots of it. What I was able to recall was limited. My finance classes in college had been for the credits, not because I'd been interested in the world of business or money at the time, so I had to dig very dig into memories to get what little I had.
I'd not yet reached the point in my Occlumency training where I could delve into my own memories and view them as if they were a movie or still photo. To do that required what was called a Mind Palace, and that took even talented mental masters decades to properly construct.
Right now, all I could do was perfectly recall the information I'd read or heard, which was still a boon, but was more temporary and I couldn't hold onto my information for long before it faded back into the depths of my mind and I had to use Occlumency to recall it again. Hence the note taking.
But, what little I knew and remembered about Black Wednesday was bleak. It started when Sir John Major, the Prime Minister, pegged the pound to the German Mark in the European Monetary System in the hopes of controlling Britain's inflation. The EMS was basically a system for deciding the exchange rate between European currencies, a precusor to the Economic Monetary Union which birthed the euro.
Unfortunately for Britain, this act of following the Deutsche Mark failed. There were several reasons, but the big one was Germany was struggling with its own inflation and debts as it attempted to assimilate the former Soviet East Germany back into itself. Given how poor East Germany was, this meant the Federal Republic had to spend massive amounts out of its own pockets to get basic infrastructure and utilities up to standard. East Germany was a time and money sink and would take many years to recover. And some places never did.
Seeing where things were going, Sir John Major and his cabinet then panicked and tried to recoup their loses by increasing the interest rates charged by the Bank of England. That meant loans, mortgages, and currency exchange rates rose drastically. Too much for the economy to stand up to, as it turned out, leading to a burst of inflation that made the pound drop in value, and a collapse of the housing market on September 16th and onwards.
The government tried to stop the abrupt change by suspending the Pound Sterling's participation in the EMS, but it was too little too late, and the government lost three billion pounds in a single day. Black Wednesday's ripples led to the creation of the euro in an effort to avoid such a collapse on the mainland in the short term, and Brexit in the long term.
If I wanted to avoid this collapse, or at least not be crushed by it, I would need to carefully work out a plan and avoid keeping too much British money on hand, turning it into galleons or US dollars instead to get the most out of the situation.
'And I need people who know how to do that, as well as some assistants who understand the economy far better than I do,' I mused to myself.
After thinking it over, I decided to place a call.
"Edward? It's quite early… shouldn't you be at school?" Archibald inquired curiously over the phone. He was the one contact I actually had that could possibly help, and I hoped he knew some ways to do so.
"That doesn't matter right now! Archibald! Do you know any financial experts or investment people?" I demanded urgently over the phone.
"What? I, yes, I know a few," he replied, surprised by the tone of my voice.
"I need you to get into contact with them."
"Why?"
"I've been playing around with some divination, and I've got a really bad feeling," I told him, lying a bit to avoid explaining my knowledge of the future. "I want to talk to them. As soon as possible!"
"Divination? Wait, have you been using magic to play the stock market?" he asked incredulously.
"So what if I have?" I retorted.
"Huh, that's actually brilliant, wish I'd thought of that," I heard him mutter over the phone. He then cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll see what I can do. I know a few people like us who are in the financial world."
"Wonderful, calm me as soon as you can," I sighed with relief. I hung up, then called the school and told them I was sick. Claimed I'd caught a cold from yesterday's rain. Another lie, but again, a necessary one. I wouldn't be able to focus at all at school with my mind churning with numbers. And this gave me today and Friday off as well.
Still buzzing with energy, I decided to actually do a bit of Divination practice as I claimed I had done with Archibald on the phone.
I got out my velvet bag full of bone-dice and a turtle shell that had been cleaned and then delicately engraved with more Divination runes. The turtle shell bowl method of divination was an old one from Asia. Different parts of the engraved hexagram ward schema represented different outcomes, and dice or coins were tossed into it to determine the future.
To advance my Divination skills, I had created my own method by taking the unique hexagrams of the turtle shell method and combining it with the runic method my knucklebone dice relied on. Depending on where my dice landed inside the hexagram, the result could be either neutral, and mean exactly what the rune represented, positive, and thus mean the rune was connected in a positive connotation, or negative, and mean the rune was warning of danger. And the way my runes landed could also influence the outcome. A rune that was upside down in relation to me was considered inverted, and thus the opposite of what the rune actually meant.
Take for instance if I rolled a single die six-sided die that had the four classical elements, plus light and dark, on its sides. If the die landed with the 'Fire' rune upright and in the neutral section of the hexagram, that meant literal fire was in my future. It could be anything from needing a new lighter to accidentally burning dinner to suffering a house fire. If the Fire rune was inverted in the negative section, it meant water was in my future, and that it was dangerous. How dangerous? Maybe I'd choke while drinking some water, or perhaps I'd slip and fall in the shower. Maybe it would rain soon, or my apartment's water bill would go up.
Vague and not very useful, right? Well, that's why I rolled a combination of rune-dice, always in sets of three, five, or seven (magic numbers for the win!) to narrow down what was supposed to happen. It was all very complicated, but it allowed me to have a far broader set of answers.
I carefully thought about the questions I wanted to ask before randomly grabbing a few bone-dice and then rolling them inside the turtle shell. I asked them out loud, because that seemed to work better than asking it in my head, for some reason, and spent the next hour tossing my rune-carved sheep knuckle-bones into the turtle shell at my dining table.
The outcomes were surprising, to say the least.
Using Arithmancy to predict the future was entirely possible, but it used the same methodology as mundane predictive algorithms worked; they observed and followed trends. Input the data-numbers and a NEWT level Arithmancer could calculate the most likely outcome with ease. However, unforeseen variables could throw said results wildly off course.
Divination on the other hand was both more and less successful. Most of the time, Divination was utterly useless. Scrying was the only useful art the average witch or wizard would be capable of, and even then, most of those methods, like tea leaf and palm readings, were painfully imprecise. And Scrying's main purpose, locating something or someone far away or hidden, could be done with modern spells like the Point Me charm. Sure, advanced Divination could pierce through Unplottable charms, but any wizard worth their wand would know (or learn) how to cast wards that would deflect Scrying attempts.
Ultimately, the most 'useful' form of Divination was Prophecy, but only Seers could have them, and even then, it was rare. Like, once a century rare. And Seer bloodlines were finicky, and rarer than even Metamorphs and Parseltongues.
But! Divination, when right, was right. I wasn't sure if knowing the outcome of the future set it in stone or what, but once a prediction was made, it would happen, and no 'unforeseen variables' could change it like with Arithmancy based predictive models, save for the outcome or interference of another prediction.
As such, when I wanted or needed to use Divination, I relied on using rune-bones, one of the oldest and most reliable methods of Scrying-type Divination magic known to man. I also had a strange amount of success with them, which was why I kept using that method so often.
'Did my ancestors have ties to some Seer blood? Am I perhaps related to Professor Trelawny? Her family is the only one in all of Britain that has a direct lineage connected to Seers,' I mused thoughtfully. The old saying that every pureblood was related to each other rang in my head, and I couldn't deny that it was highly likely I had some relation to the Hogwarts Divination Professor. Hell, I had distant – very distant! – blood ties with the Blacks and Potters. Though not since well before the Statue of Secrecy, at least.
I pushed my mind back to focusing on what the rune-bones were telling me, and grimaced. One of the questions I had asked them was 'Will Harry Potter encounter the Philosopher's Stone before the end of his time at Hogwarts this year?' and my dice had told me in several different ways 'Yes.'
My next question was 'Will there be an economic recession on September 16th?' This one was less definite and more vague, due to the fact several months separated me from the event in question, but the bones had still come up with various degrees of confirmation. Sort of. If you squinted and looked at the answers from the right angle.
Smaller things, like if it would rain today or tomorrow, or what color of shirt Sam would wear on various days, were asked, and I got a bunch of answers I would have to get confirmation on later. But, if the small stuff came true, then so too would the bigger events.
I took a deep breath, then picked up my rune-bones for one more toss.
"Will Dumbledore try to interfere with me helping Harry over the course of Summer Break?" I asked out loud, before grabbing five bone-dice at random and tossing them into the special scrying bowl. They clacked and clattered loudly within the shell before coming to a rest.
I stared into the turtle shell bowl and grimaced at the result. "Damn it," I grumbled.
The rune for 'Yes' was face up in the middle of the shell, right in the neutral position, and the rune for 'New Encounters' had collided with the one for 'Danger,' leaving both in the negative hexagram. Meanwhile the 'Opportunity' rune was inverted in the positive section along with the rune for 'Wisdom.'
'Yes' being in the neutral hexagram was obvious. It meant Dumbledore was definitely going to try and do something to interfere over the summer. However, the next set of runes revealed that I was going to meet somebody new, and they were likely very important to my plans. This could mean I'd meet Dumbledore face to face, or perhaps it would be somebody associated with him. Lastly, inverted Opportunity mean misfortune, but combined with 'Wisdom' in the positive hexagram meant I could turn my bad luck around if I played it smart.
This changed things. And I didn't like it.
"At least I have a few weeks to prepare," I muttered.
&&&&&
Harry POV
"…and it says here, on chapter fourteen, that this is indeed the best way to counter a Jelly-Legs Jinx!" Hermione shouted at Ron.
"Merlin's sake, Hermione, that's not going to be on the test!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.
"How can you be sure?!"
"Because we haven't even gone over it in class yet!"
"But that doesn't mean it won't come up later!"
"Quirrell hasn't even gotten to chapter nine! No way he's gonna get to chapter fourteen by the end of the school year!"
"Are they still going at it?" Susan whispered to Harry, who nodded weakly.
"Yeah, it's… almost impressive."
"I'm surprised Madam Pince hasn't thrown us out yet," Neville said nervously as he glanced over at the stern librarian.
"I think that's due to the newest charm Hermione learned the other day," Hannah guessed.
"Which one?" Susan asked her fellow Puff.
"The Sound Muffling Charm," Hannah replied.
"Makes sense," Harry said, returning to his book. It was a guide to brewing potions, and Harry would be damned if Snape tried to pull a fast one with his test just to make his grades slip in that class!
Despite being the last weekend of April, Hermione was already pushing for their group to begin studying for the upcoming exams.
Harry loved the bushy-haired bookworm like a sister, but she was crazy when it came to schoolwork. It was like a switch was flipped in her brain when the words 'test' or 'exam' were uttered by a teacher, and she went mental trying to prepare and impress the professors.
Thankfully, Neville – and to a lesser extent Susan and Hannah – were able to talk Hermione out of going completely bonkers, and reduced their pile of studying to a simple one subject a day for two hours after classes were done.
It calmed the Gryffindor girl somewhat, but had made her double-down on following a strict schedule for what they needed to go over in order to score well on their tests.
Harry had invited the other First Years (yes, even the Slytherins, because it was polite, and not because he expected anyone to take him up on his offer) to a couple sessions, but Hermione's fervor had spooked most of them, so they only showed up every once in a while, to get help with a subject they were struggling in.
'I'll just ask them again when it's closer to exam time,' he decided. 'Maybe then Hermione will have become less manic.'
Harry shot a glance at his friend from across the library table the group was sitting at, and grimaced as Hermione muttered to herself as she wrote out a very detailed schedule that calculated everyone's bathroom breaks down to the minute. 'Or maybe she won't.'
"I wonder when the thief will strike?" Harry wondered aloud, successfully distracting Hermione from her imminent meltdown.
"What do you mean?" Susan inquired, and the rest of the study group all turned their head his way at the non-sequitur.
"Well, we're reasonably certain it's one of the professors who is going to try and steal the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said, which had the others at the table nodding in agreement. "So, when would be the perfect time to strike?"
"It'll have to be before finals, or after," Ron said.
"Why?" Hannah asked, curious for his reasoning.
"It's simple. The two weeks of finals will be busy. The busiest week of the year for the teachers. If the thief really is a teacher, they'll be unable to sneak away thanks to all the testing going on. It'd be too obvious. OWL and NEWT tests are done in the week before the rest of the years take theirs, and that means the thief will have to act during the first week of June, before the tests, or the last week of June, after said tests are done."
"That's… very smart," Hermione said, as if she couldn't believe she was saying those words about Ron Weasley of all people.
"Brilliant tactical thinking, Ron," Harry praised. He knew the red-head was smart when he cared to apply himself, just look at his winning streak in Wizard Chess. But it seemed he had a real knack for critical strategic thinking that went beyond merely chess strategies.
"The teachers including the thief will be exhausted, and so will the students. And this will ensure nobody is going to be going near Fluffy's room. Not unless they absolutely have to," Neville said, nodding in understanding.
"But what about Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. "Won't he notice something is wrong?"
"Maybe. If he has a way to know if people get too close to the third-floor corridor, then he'd surely know we'd been there," Harry pointed out. "And yet he's never scolded us for it. Nor have we lost points for it. At least, I think we haven't."
"Perhaps he does know, but he doesn't care?" Susan guessed.
"Or more likely, he doesn't think the little we saw is worth punishing," Harry added.
"Then our thief will strike while Dumbledore is gone," Ron said decisively. "Dumbledore is the strongest wizard alive. He could easily catch the thief in the act if there are other traps besides Fluffy. But that's only if Dumbledore is in the castle at the same time."
"So, sometime in June is when the thief is gonna do his dirty deeds," Hannah mused. "Then we better make sure somebody is watching the hallway during that time."
"How?" Susan asked.
"Why not ask the House Elves?" Harry suggested.
"Oh, right, I almost forgot about them," Hermione admitted with a frown. "And after everything they did for us on Halloween."
"We can thank them when we go ask them for help with this stone problem," Neville said. "But I think Harry's idea works. I was going to suggest we ask one of the ghosts or portraits, but thinking on it, the House Elves would be more reliable."
"Well, now that we've figured this out… Hannah, I see you're making doodles instead of taking notes for history," Hermione said, turning back to what really mattered to her – studying.
"But Binns is so boring!" the blonde Hufflepuff whined. "And his lessons are literally word for word taken from the textbooks! Heck, I think whoever wrote the books just copied his notes from Binns' lectures and published them!"
"That… actually, that makes a lot of sense," Hermione mused thoughtfully. "It would explain some things…"
"See? I can be smart, too!" Hannah said, puffing her chest out proudly.
"Of course, of course! But if that's the case, what's with all these misspellings?" the bushy-haired Gryffindor demanded, jabbing a finger at a word on the page. "You don't spell 'Xavgor' with a 'Z'!"
"Gobbledygook is a hard language, okay?!" Hannah cried out, throwing her hands into the air, but Hermione was merciless and relentless.
"And Ron! Don't think I didn't see you sneaking peeks at Neville's Herbology homework!"
'I wonder what Edward is doing right now?' Harry wondered as he dove back into the study materials Hermione had given him in order to avoid suffering her wrath like Ron and Hannah currently were.
&&&&&
Edward POV
"If I ever find out who invented calculus, I'm kicking him in the balls," Sam griped.
"Save me some room in your time machine, Sam," I grumbled as I finished up the homework. Math was painfully tedious, and even if I knew every rule and step by heart, it didn't make it any less boring.
"Ugh! I can't do this anymore!" Sam groaned, flopping bonelessly onto my dining room table and pushing his pile of homework aside. "Let's do something else! Talk about things!"
"Okay, like what?" I asked, gratefully for any opportunity to put down my pencil.
"Well, how goes your little chemistry experiments?" Sam asked, waggling his eyebrows at me.
"Is that a lewd joke at my closeness with Delilah, or a euphemism for potions?"
"Both," he said with a cheeky grin. I rolled my eyes at my best friend's comment.
Sam had changed a lot since I'd met him all those years ago. He'd begun wearing his hair longer, keeping it tied back with a pony tail. He'd also begun experimenting with hair dye in all sorts of exotic colors. His parents were convinced he was either doing drugs or had become a rock metal fan.
Funnily enough, the first thing was technically the closest to the truth, since I was teaching him how to brew potions. Sam loved being able to do 'actual magic' even if he needed a crutch for it like I did. He had a real knack for potions. Better than I did. He was able to correctly identify when it was time to lower the heat on a boiling potion, or when was the correct moment to add a new ingredient.
He also liked cooking magical food with Inky and was a big fan of all the wacky candy the Wizard World had to offer. I planned on getting him a magical cookbook for his birthday. He'd certainly like that.
"Delilah and I are doing fine. Haven't done much besides a few kisses, and most of our 'dates' are actually business meetings," I replied.
"You can call it snogging, you know. No need to be all prim and proper about it," Sam teased.
"Well, anyways, things are fine and dandy," I said. "I've come up with a new potion, too."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Hangover potion," I replied. "Completely made out of mundane plants, though a magical stirring stick is still needed to make it work. Unicorn horn is preferable."
I'd found that different materials for making potion stirring rods could affect the outcome of a potion. Healing potions turned out better when brewed with a unicorn's horn, while dragon's bone was excellent for improving the length of time a potion's effects would last. A stirring stick made of Grindylow spines was best for creams as it made them smoother and silkier, and a Bowtruckle's branch vastly improved the quality of purely plant-based potions.
There were many more materials to experiment with, but what I had discovered was really improving my production.
"Neat! What's in it?" Sam asked.
"Coffee beans, mint, and duckweed."
"Gross," Sam winced.
"Yeah, it's taste ain't great, but it works. Consume before you go to bed after drinking, and you won't have a headache upon waking up. Or, drink it after waking up and ten minutes later your hangover will be gone."
"How did you test that, exactly?" Sam inquired. "You don't drink."
"No, but Mr. Finch-Fletchley does. He generously volunteered to test them once I'd confirmed they weren't in any way dangerous."
"Sounds like Duncan is doing lots of overtime," Sam noted, and I laughed.
"He doesn't complain since I give him plump and juicy crickets and mealworms all the time," I said with a smirk. Duncan the toad had really pulled his weight since I'd gotten him from Diagon Alley last year. He was fat and lazy and didn't do much except sit in his terrarium, which was good for me whenever I fed him eyedroppers full of potions to see what'd happen.
Did you know that if you replaced kraken blood with powdered moon jellyfish in the Water-Breathing Potion, the skin of the drinker would turn transparent? Weird, I know. But at least that was the only side-effect. And the potion still let you breath underwater! Duncan had looked very creepy without his flesh until the potion wore off.
"Hey, Ed? Can we can talk?" Sam asked, his mood shifting a bit, and I raised an eyebrow at that.
"Sure, but just so you know, those words put together in a sentence like that is rarely a good thing," I drawled, earning a snort of amusement from my best friend, before he turned serious again.
"So, uh, don't take this the wrong way, Ed, but I don't think I want to work with you in the potion making business," Sam said, fidgeting a bit. "I mean, I like it, don't get me wrong, but I don't think it's what I want to do with my life."
"I understand," I told him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I really do."
"You're not mad?" he asked hesitantly, and I nodded.
"Yeah. Honestly, I'm kinda glad you don't want to work for me. Friends working together is fine and all, but it gets awkward when one friend is the boss, and the other is being hired by them. We could probably have made it work, but I don't really want to risk our friendship over things like money and business."
"True, true," Sam said, a bit of relief in his voice that I wasn't mad, and that I understood how weird it'd be if he worked under me.
"What are your plans, then, for the future?" I asked curiously.
"Cooking school," Sam said. "I want to try and become a professional chef. And someday, work in a five-star restaurant I own myself!"
"That's a great dream to have!" I said, happy for him. "I'll bet you can do it, too!"
"Thanks for the support, Ed," Sam smiled. He then gained a pensive look. "Um, what do you think you'll do for hiring people, then?"
"I'll hire some Squibs, first. There aren't a lot of us, but there's enough out there who'd take any job. And a magical one that isn't in the Wizarding World? I bet I'll have plenty of applicants," I claimed.
'Gonna have to work on creating a magical contract to ensure they can't spill the beans, first, though,' I hummed. 'I'll need to look up the recipe for Oath Binding Ink before I forget.'
No way I was going into business without finding a way to bind my employees with a magical contract!
"In other news, are you excited for football season?!"
"Damn straight. World Cup is in Sweden this year, right?" I asked, and Sam nodded.
"Yeah! And England's gonna win! I know it!"
"We'll have to see," I chuckled. "We'll have to see."
'And if things work out, I'll be filthy rich!'
Chapter 33: Chapter 33: The Golden Gamble
Chapter Text
Chapter 33: The Golden Gamble
May had gone by in a blur. It had come and gone mostly unnoticed by me, as not much had happened. I mean, sure, there was stuff I'd had to do. Tests to prepare for. A business to set-up and run. But nothing that made me sit up and say 'Holy crap!'
Which was nice. It was peaceful and, while not completely relaxing, made for a good change of pace.
But now, things were different. Things were starting to gain traction. Finals were coming up, and once that was over, I'd be free from the hell of compulsory education. Then, I'd be getting ready to head off to higher education.
I brief wondered why I was torturing myself with this, and considered not pursuing a college or university degree, but shelved the idea after a bit. It was a pain in the buttocks, but it was, sadly, necessary. And I didn't want to waste the hard work my friends and family had gone through to get me those recommendations.
Then, there was the Potion business. With all the important legal documents wrapped up, I could increase production and hit the market running. Sure, I was tied to several larger companies now, but my plans to deal with that were in the making.
I'd decided to hold off on opening up my first storefront until I got back from France in late July, aiming for an early August grand-opening. Everything regarding the buildings I was going to use was already squared away, with the paperwork filled out and filed along with the initial deposits already made. The interior restructuring was going well, and it would be finished by mid-July. Then, I could get ready for business!
Of course, I was still making products and selling them, even without a store. My idea to sell through the internet hadn't taken off yet, but a few ads placed into several choice women's fashion magazines had ensured I had a steady stream of revenue from that angle. Not to mention word-of-mouth was still helpful. Even more so when one of Sam's father's co-workers had tried my hair growth cream and saw results almost immediately. Add in a couple of free samples here and there, and I had a strong customer base.
I was far off from being a household name like I planned on being in the future, but I'd set the foundations for it.
But right now, I was focused on something else other than potions or schoolwork.
It was the early evening of the 11th of June, and I watched the TV in Sam's living room like a hawk. I wasn't usually invested in sports like the Parsons, but today was an exception. After all, today was the England-Denmark match of the European Football Cup.
Nobody expected Denmark to make it to the Football Cup this year in Europe. They only made it in because of chaos in Yugoslavia that got the country disqualified. Because it was a last-minute addition to the line-up, the Danes had only two weeks to prepare against the former USSR, England, France, Germany, Holland, Scotland, and the host of the event, Sweden.
They were basically the longshot, which meant the odds were against them winning in the betting pool. 20 to 1 odds, to be precise.
'If my memory is correct, and I hope to God it is, then the first match they play is against England, and they draw against them at a score of 0-0,' I thought to myself as I nervously shifted in my seat.
'If that happens again in this timeline, then that means the possibility of events playing out the same as they did in my world are high, and I could earn a large amount of money through a few well-placed bets,' I thought eagerly.
It was a risk. So far, this world was fairly accurate to what I remembered of my old world's history. For instance, in the Harry Potter books, the Prime Minister was never given a name, but just as it had been back in my original life, the Prime Minister here was Sir John Major, and he had been since his election in 1990.
However, there was one important detail in the books that made things different between my old life and my current one. The Prime Minister before John Major in my old world was Margaret Thatcher. A woman. And in the books, when Minister Fudge first met the unnamed Prime Minister, the previous Prime Minister had tried to throw Fudge out the window.
Notably, Fudge claimed they were a man. And say what you want about Margaret Thatcher, but she was very clearly a woman.
Why did this matter? Margaret Thatcher was not the previous Prime Minister. She had existed, but hadn't served the same amount of time she did in my world, being ousted in 1988 to be replaced by a man named Sir Simon Garland, who only served until 1990, and being replaced by John Major.
I'd always known there was a chance what I knew about this world's future could change, or have changes I'd not yet noticed. After all, my very presence should have caused ridiculous numbers of butterflies to occur. Assuming time worked liked that. This was a magical world, who knew how multiverse shenanigans actually worked!
But I didn't think my actions here, right now, in England would influence the outcome of a foreign country's match that would take place in Sweden. How far would the ripples actually go, though? I just didn't know.
In the end, after thinking over everything, I decided to take the plunge, and had bet all of the money my mother had given me for my birthday on Denmark tying with England in their first match of the European Football Cup. If I lost? Well, that would suck, and hurt a tiny bit, but a thousand galleons, or five thousand pounds, wasn't actually all that much in the grand scheme of things. I was making more in a month or two from sales with my potion creams. But if I won the gamble? Well, I would be rich.
'In the event things play out as I knew them, and Denmark draws with England zero to zero, then I will put my winnings from that bet onto Denmark winning the whole shebang,' I decided, watching with bated breath as the game played out on the screen.
"Man, I've never seen you so excited for a game before," Sam chuckled as he sat down next to me, a bowl of popcorn in his hands.
"Let's just say I've got skin in the game," I replied evasively, and my best friend squinted at me in response. Then, he glanced about, making sure his parents and sister (or any of the neighbors who'd come over to watch the game on the biggest screen on the block) weren't paying attention.
"Did you put money on this?" he asked in an incredulous whisper, making me smirk.
"Perhaps," I demurred softly.
"Aren't you always complaining about people who bet irresponsibly and have gambling debts?" Sam inquired suspiciously.
"True, but consider this less a gamble, and more… an experiment," I replied. Sam blinked at me, then his eyes widened.
"You… you used Divination to predict the outcome didn't you?" he guessed, and I grinned.
"Guilty," I confirmed. While this was mostly related to my future knowledge, I did use the rune bones to double-check and try to confirm my story. And while the answers were vague, they seemed hopeful at the very least.
"Whoa, that's… dumb. Or brilliant? I dunno which," Sam grunted.
"Yeah, that's the question, isn't it? We'll just have to see if it pays off," I chuckled, before turning serious again. "Now, however, there's only one thing left to do."
"What's that?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Now? I need to grab some of your dad's BBQ grilled chicken before it's all gone!" I declared, causing Sam to snort.
"Good luck with that," he said, waving me off. "Bring me back a drink, oh great conqueror."
"Sure. Water or soda?"
"Fruit punch," he replied, and it was my turn to snort.
"You mean Mr. Pond's very clearly spiked punch?" I asked.
"Obviously," Sam nodded.
"Alright. One 'fruit punch' coming up," I told him, getting off the couch. It was a slow stretch of the match, anyways. Things would be interesting closer to the end. Right now, though, I needed food.
"Oh, hey, Kate," I hummed as I found Sam's sister standing by the platter of grilled meats. Burgers, hot dogs, and chicken lay in a glorious pile on a table that had a lot of other snack foods available. She was looking over the food with an intense look, and she jerked in surprise, not having noticed me.
"Oh! Ed! Hi!" she said.
"Mind if I grab some chicken?" I asked, and she nodded before stepping aside, letting me take a few legs. "Awesome. I have no idea how your dad manages to make chicken so juicy and flavorful, but I am always super jealous of it."
"Yeah, it's pretty good," she nodded. "I mean, he has to be good at something in the kitchen, right?"
I laughed in agreement. Mr. Parson wasn't a terrible cook, but he did fit the stereotypical husband who couldn't make food to save his life in a kitchen, but when it came time to man a grill, he was a pro.
"So, how are things?" I asked Kate as I stocked up on chips and dip (No matter how long I'd been British for, I could never bring myself to calling chips 'crisps.' Thank God for Occlumency to keep me from looking too American).
"Um, I'm doing fine. School's going okay," Kate replied, fidgeting a bit.
"Ugh, yeah, school. Do you need any more tutoring help?" I offered.
"No, no, I'm good," she denied with a rapid shake of her head. I shrugged and accepted her answer. I'd make the offer to her later if she needed it. Or maybe to Mrs. Parson.
"Great. I know how much it sucks, but it's important, unfortunately," I said. "Any idea what you want to do in the future?"
"No, not like you and Sam do," Kate sighed. "I just… I'm not sure."
"Well, that's alright, not everyone knows right off the bat. And I had to think things over long and hard before coming to my current decisions," I told her.
She snorted a 'yeah, right,' under her breath, which I politely ignored.
"So, uh, Ed, I heard you have a girlfriend?" she asked tentatively, and I resisted the urge to wince.
"That's right," I replied. "Err. Well, maybe. It's complicated."
"Complicated?" Kate asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Yeah, I know Delilah because she's a… let's call her a work buddy. I helped her out at a party, and then again after it, and we hit it off. And in return she's been helping me meet people that can help with my business. Are we dating, though? I'm not entirely sure. I don't think we've had any actual dates, now that I look back on it."
"Is that so?" Kate asked, suddenly turning eager.
"The thing is, we're both attracted to each other," I continued, trying to let Sam's sister down gently. "We've kissed and all that, but never gone further, or really talked about it. I think that's because her dad is… kinda an asshole who'd disapprove of us dating. Pretty sure he's not thrilled about us hanging out or working together, either."
"Oh. I see," Kate muttered despondently.
"Sorry," I said weakly. She glanced at me, suspicious.
"Wait you knew…?"
"That you had a crush on me? Yes," I replied, and she frowned, before a spark of realization flickered in her eyes.
"Damn it, Sam," she muttered under her breath.
"Don't beat him up too badly for it, please?" I requested, quietly letting Sam take all the blame for this. Sure, I was throwing him under the bus, but what else are best friends for, if not for taking the brunt of an angry girl's wrath?
Plate loaded up with food, I left Kate to her thoughts, returning to the couch. Sadly, my spot had been swiped while I'd been gone, but I didn't mind too much. I leaned against the wall, watching and waiting and shoveling food into my hungry maw, my eyes locked onto the TV screen.
And then, it happened.
A few hours later, and the match was coming to a close. Things had been heated, and both sides had failed to score a single point against the other. It was a tie at zero. And there were only a couple minutes left.
I was on the edge of my seat (somebody else had gotten up and I'd swiped their seat so I could watch the game up close) and I gripped the arms of the recliner tightly as I stared intently at the screen.
It took all of my willpower and Occlumency training not to burst into cheers or even crack a smile at the sight on the scoreboard when the timer ran out and the end of the match was called. Celebrating the draw would look weird to the people surrounding me.
Still, I couldn't help a faint, hysterical giggle escaping my lips. Why? Because I'd just won a hundred and fifty thousand pounds! The bookie I'd used to place my initial bet had been giving odds of thirty to one on Denmark tying against England in the match today, and I'd scored big time!
'By the end of this, I'm going to be three million pounds richer!' I thought giddily.
This changed things. It proved my future knowledge was still reliable for now, and it gave me plenty of funds with which to play with.
'I wonder how Harry is doing?' I couldn't help but wonder as a lightning bolt shaped ad for a sports shoe flickered across the screen and reminded me of him. Hogwarts finals were coming up soon. Or had they already happened? I didn't know for sure. All I could do was pray he would stay safe, and that things worked out like they had in the book.
&&&&&
Harry POV
Harry frowned. He couldn't put his finger on it, but today felt off for some reason. Dinner was over, and he was relaxing in an armchair in the corner of the common room, digesting his meal with a good book. Ron and Neville were playing chess on the floor with Dean and Seamus, and Hermione was talking with the other First Year girls about magical makeup.
At first he'd been surprised, as he'd never seen the bushy-haired witch as one for that sort of topic, but apparently Hermione had been more interesting in the magical aspect behind it, as well as learning about the sort of cultural norms magical women grew up with.
Everything seemed nice and normal… except for the niggling sensation in his head that was telling him otherwise. He'd been feeling it all day, but it had grown significantly in the last couple of hours.
'Did I eat something weird? No, I don't think that's it. Have Hermione's study sessions finally driven me mad?' Harry wondered to himself. '…No, that's not it, either.'
He glanced around the Gryffindor common room, which was filled with a lot of other students chatting, studying, or relaxing. Nothing seemed out of place to him. In fact, it all felt unusually calm and collected. Well, calm for the House of the Brave, at least. He was pretty sure this would have been the equivalent of a shouting match in Slytherin or Ravenclaw.
The mood was upbeat, and his friends were doing well. Ron especially was still flying high several days after the final Quidditch match of the year. In fact, everyone in Gryffindor was cheerful. No wonder there, they'd won after all.
Harry wasn't sure it would be enough to beat Slytherin for the House Cup, but they'd won the Quidditch Cup, so at least there was that to celebrate.
But the celebratory mood wasn't what had made Harry feel unnerved, either. Was it nerves? Next week were the finals after all, and then followed a week-long period to relax before they were sent back to their homes.
Yet Harry wasn't sure that was the case, either. Hermione's long study sessions throughout May made him fairly certain their study group would be the top scorers. Even Ron and Neville would likely be in the upper percentage all things considered.
'And if they didn't get decent grades, I bet their parents – or grandmother in Neville's case – would give them a tongue lashing as soon as they got home,' Harry thought with a brief moment of amusement, before a feeling of depression hit him.
Home. That word… that damned word. The thought of the Dursleys and calling that cookie-cutter misery-shed they called a house his 'home' physically made Harry ill. They hated him, and the feeling was mutual. He was not looking forward to doing chores again, acting like a slave for the Dursleys. Two months with them was going to be torturous.
As he sunk into the Occlumency training Edward had taught him to calm down he wondered if the older boy would let him hang out at his apartment. 'I know he has plans to open a business as well as prepare for University, but I hope he and Sam still have time for me.'
While he cooled his metaphorical heels with a meditation technique, curiosity had Harry try and focus on the feeling of unease within him. Could he try and find out what the source of his disquiet was?
It was worth a shot, so Harry let his consciousness spread outwards. He checked his memories and tried to see if it was perhaps a school assignment he'd forgotten to do, but nope, that wasn't it. Neither was it any sort of forgotten birthday or important date.
It was only when Harry focused on his body did he realize that it was a pain in his scar which had been making him antsy, and he frowned heavily. The feeling was a minor throb, like an itch instead of the pervasive migraine-like sensations he'd used to get. But now, he hadn't felt like that in weeks.
'In fact, when was the last time my scar actually hurt?' Harry wondered with a frown. After some time to think, the answer came to him.
'Halloween! The last time my scar hurt, it was during Halloween!' he realized. And when a troll had showed up during that time, he'd completely forgotten about it, as he'd been focused on other things. Namely, the troll.
'Okay, so, my scar really hurt around the time the troll showed up on Halloween. Is my scar some sort of threat sensor? Can it detect when I'm in danger?' Harry wondered curiously. If so, that was a surprisingly useful ability to have. Though the fact it'd gone off twice so far while at the supposedly 'safest school in Europe' didn't fill the Boy Who Lived with much confidence or joy.
'Think, Harry! Think! When my scar hurt last time, a troll was invading the castle. So, does that mean there's another troll? Or is something bad in general about to happen?' he wondered to himself.
A thought occurred to him, and Harry rose from his seat, muttering a hasty, "Gotta use the bathroom!" to his friends before bolting out of the common room.
"Sweepy!" Harry called out after running into the boy's bathroom near the first-year dorms. A second later the House Elf he'd spoken to before appeared with a popping sound.
"Yes Mister Harry Potty?" Sweepy asked, and Harry grimaced a bit at the name. He shoved the distaste down due to it reminding him of some of Dudley's name-calling, and instead addressed the House Elf.
"Sweepy, remember when I asked you to look after the 3rdfloor corridor? The one with the big dog in it?" Harry asked quickly, and Sweepy nodded.
"Yes! We play with the puppy and give him lots of treats, as you asked!" Sweepy said proudly, and Harry grinned a bit at that before turning serious.
"Good. I need to know if there's something wrong with Fluffy and the corridor. I have… a bad feeling," Harry said. Sweepy tilted his head at that but nodded, and vanished in a pop.
A few seconds later the House Elf returned, looking frazzled. "Sweepy doesn't understand! Someone has put a nasty curse on the hallways!"
"Ah," Harry muttered. "Can you remove it?"
"Nasty curse made Hogwarts angry," Sweepy said solemnly. "But Hogwarts couldn't touch it until Mister Harry told Sweepy to look for it. House Elves will take care of it! Sweepy will also get rid of noisy thing from Fluffy's room."
"Noisy thing?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling nervous, and his scar throbbed seemingly in tune with his own concern.
"A magic harp that goes plinky-plink all on its own," Sweepy complained.
"Uh-oh," Harry muttered. Somebody – Snape perhaps? – had put some kind of enchanted instrument in Fluffy's room and had likely already snuck past him. And that curse… it sounded like it was to delay anyone to come after him.
There was also the revelation that Hogwarts was somehow alive, or something? And it didn't like the fact somebody had cursed a part of it. It also seemed like the castle, as aware as it was, couldn't do anything about the curse, though.
'Ugh, details for later!' he thought to himself with a shake of his head. Instead, he asked, "Sweepy! Is Dumbledore here right now?"
"Headmaster Dumblydore was called aways after dinner to the Ministry," Sweepy replied, which made Harry's heart sink.
"Oh, crap!" he swore. "Sweepy, get Hedwig for me, please! And something to write with!"
Sweepy nodded, and disappeared, only to reappear a few seconds later with Hedwig blinking in confusion and a quill with some parchment in hand.
Harry gratefully took it and quickly scrawled out a hasty message to Dumbledore. He didn't know if Hedwig could get to the Ministry or the headmaster in time, but it was worth a shot. He gave his beautiful bird the letter, and she let out an annoyed "Prek!"
"Sorry, girl, but it's important!" Harry apologized to her. "Can you take that to Dumbledore?"
Hedwig made a grumpy sound but nodded. Harry grinned in relief before turning back to Sweepy.
"Can you warn Professor McGonagall about this?" he asked the House Elf.
"Sweepy shall!" the magical helper declared, before vanishing one last time with Hedwig.
That done, he hurried back down to the common room.
"Ron, Neville, Hermione!" he hissed at them, causing his trio of friends to look up, as well as get the attention of the other first years. "We need to talk!"
"What about?" Hermione asked, and Harry shook his head.
"No time! Come on!" he said, urging her and the other two up to the boy's dorms. He then closed the door behind them once inside the first-year bedroom, and looked at them in turn.
"Somebody got to Fluffy," he told them, eyes narrowed. Hermione gasped, Ron blinked in surprise, and Neville shivered.
"What do you mean?" the portly boy asked.
"Somebody put an enchanted musical instrument in Fluffy's room to lull him to sleep," Harry explained, and the trio nodded as they instantly realized what was happening.
"Snape's going after the Stone!" Ron gasped.
"We have to stop him!" Neville said in agreement.
"Absolutely! We'll use my cloak to get there without being noticed," Harry nodded.
"How do you know this?" Hermione asked, which was fair.
"I got a bad feeling all of a sudden, and asked Sweepy to check," Harry explained.
"The House Elf?" Neville asked.
"Right," Harry nodded.
"What stone are you talking about?"
"What do you mean, what stone? The Philosopher's Stone, duh!" Ron said, before pausing. In fact, all four Gryffindor's went dead silent before turning around to face the door. Which was ajar, and had Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Padma, Sally-Anne, and Kellah peering through it.
The eavesdroppers were glaring at Seamus, who looked sheepish at having called out the question Ron had answered, the tips of his ears glowing red. Literally. It was a neat bit of accidental magic that Harry had no time to appreciate.
"So, uh, you heard that, did you?" Neville asked nervously as he looked at his fellow classmates.
Having a new target to direct their ire to, all of the other first years glared at him and the rest of Harry's group.
"The Philosopher's Stone is in Hogwarts?" Padma demanded incredulously.
"Is that why the 3rd floor hallway was off-limits?" Sally-Anne asked.
"So this is what you guys have been up to all year!" Dean exclaimed.
"Crap in a basket," Harry muttered, and Hermione nodded mutely in agreement.
"So, uh, any chance you could forget you heard all of that?" Harry asked hopefully, to which he earned a bunch of head shakes. "Ah. Well, um, I'd love to stick around and explain, but I gotta go."
"Not until you give us some answers, mister!" Sally-Anne declared. "What's going on?"
"Ugh, fine!" Ron groaned. "We found out Snape is trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, which Dumbledore hid in the school. There! Happy?"
"Very," Lavender said, grinning widely at the juicy gossip potential.
"Seriously, though? The real, honest to Merlin Philosopher's Stone is here in Hogwarts?" Padma demanded.
"Yes?" Harry replied nervously.
"Whoa," Seamus muttered. "Gold whenever you want it… or eternal life! No wonder that git Snape wants to steal it!"
"Yeah, seems like it," Neville nodded.
"And what exactly were you going to do just now?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at Harry and his three friends.
"I bet they were gonna go and try and stop him themselves," Kellah guessed.
"How'd you know?" Ron gasped, and the girl rolled her eyes.
"We're Gryffindor's too, ya know. It wasn't hard to think that that was your plan."
"Fine, fine, it's all true!" Harry said impatiently. "Somebody is trying to steal the stone right now, though! So we have to hurry!"
"Why us?" Lavender asked, bringing the Boy Who Lived up short. "Why not warn the teachers or something?"
"I sent Hedwig with a letter to the headmaster, but he's out of the castle right now at the ministry," Harry replied. "And the teachers…"
He then paused. Why hadn't he tried to tell the teachers? He knew what his kneejerk answer would be; they wouldn't do anything. That had always been his experience with teachers and other adults back when he'd lived with the Dursleys. But he wasn't with them anymore. And he was around people who'd believe him. Hopefully, at least.
Harry knew deep down that that was just an excuse on his behalf for not wanting to bring his concerns to the teachers.
So, it was with a deep breath to calm down (and a bit of Occlumency to sort himself out) that he gave a nod at Lavender.
"You're right, Lav. I should have gone to a teacher."
"Oh. Well, I mean, yes, of course I was right!" Lavender said, surprised that he'd actually agreed with her.
"Come on, let's go find Professor McGonagall. She'll know what to do," Harry said.
All of his fellow classmates nodded, and together the ten of them poured out of the dorm and the Gryffindor Tower, and surged towards their head of house's office. Which was also the Transfiguration classroom.
Rather, it was a room attached to the classroom which the First-Years stormed, startling the older woman as they barged in without knocking.
"Professor!" they shouted, before devolving into a babble of words.
"Stop!" she demanded, trying to shout over them, but when that didn't work, she whipped out her wand and uttered, "Muffilato!"
The ten students kept talking, but no words came out of their mouths, and after a moment they realized this and settled down.
"Alright, one at a time, now," Professor McGonagall uttered in a deadpan tone, before flicking her wand, muttered, "Finite," and undid the Muffling Charm that'd kept them silent.
None of them spoke, and she nodded, pleased. "Very good. Ms. Granger, would you care to tell me what is the matter?"
"Well, Professor, we think Sna- somebody is going to try and steal the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione said nervously.
McGonagall blinked in surprise. "Beg pardon?" she inquired. That was not at all what she'd expected. Her eyes then narrowed. "How do you know about that?"
"Um, Hagrid isn't the best at keeping secrets," Hermione admitted. Before hastily adding, "But he never told us directly what it was! We just wondered what Fluffy was guarding, and he told us that it was between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, and we got curious and looked into who Mr. Flamel was, and-!"
"That's enough, thank you," McGonagall requested, holding up a hand to stall the rush of words Hermione was building up to. The bushy-haired girl nodded meekly, and the professor could feel a headache coming on.
"Ms. Granger… why do you know about Fluffy?" the Transfiguration teacher inquired, wondering if she'd have to have a 'talk' with the Groundskeeper about keeping quiet.
"We found him when we were hiding from Filch," Hermione admitted, causing Ron to gawk at her, Neville to wince in shame, and Harry to slap his forehead in exasperation. She just looked at the boys in confusion. "What? She wanted to know!"
"Leaving aside 'why' you were out late enough to feel the need to hide from Mr. Filch, I think I'm starting to get a better picture of what has happened," Professor McGonagall said with a pinched expression.
She then looked out over the ten First-Years in her house. "And you all found this out?"
"Well, no, just me, Harry, Ron, and Neville," Hermione replied. "The rest only found out when the eavesdropped on us talking about somebody leaving behind a magical instrument in Fluffy's room to put him to sleep."
This time it was the rest of the First-Years' turn to look betrayed at Hermione for ratting them out. She turned her head and stuck her tongue out at them, which had Ron burst into laughter at the deed.
His laughter died immediately as their Head of House leveled a stern, unimpressed frown his way, and the red-head instantly shut up.
"A magical instrument, you say?" she asked, and this time Harry was the one to speak up.
"I got a bad feeling, and asked Sweepy – he's one of the House Elves – to check on the corridor for me. He found the enchanted object, and a curse."
"A curse?" McGonagall demanded, sitting upright.
"Yes. Sweepy said, uh, that Hogwarts wasn't happy with it, but couldn't do anything about it until I'd pointed it out to the House Elves," Harry admitted, which earned some odd looks from the rest, but eventually McGonagall decided to put that aside for the moment and focus on the bigger problem. Namely, the curse.
"And you think someone is trying to steal the stone right now?"
"Yes," Harry said with firm nod. "I sent the headmaster a letter via owl, but I don't know if he'll get it in time."
He then paused before adding, "Ah, it was Lavender's idea to come tell you, by the way. So, uh, please don't punish us for entering your office without knocking?"
McGonagall nodded absentmindedly, too busy pulling out her wand to check the wards. As Deputy Headmistress, it was her duty to protect the school while the headmaster was away, and she had the authority to check the castle's wards to do so.
Whatever she saw as she stared off into space while looking at things none of the First-Years could see did not make her happy, and her scowl deepened.
"Bloody hell," she swore, before shouting, "EMERGENCY! ALL PROFESSORS, TO THE GREAT HALL! ALL STUDENTS, RETURN TO YOUR DORMS! NOW! THE CASTLE HAS BEEN BREACHED! I REPEAT! THE CASTLE HAS BEEN BREACHED!"
Her voice boomed through the office, and was magically carried throughout the castle to the other rooms and hallways, and it made the First-Years jump in shock to hear it. McGonagall didn't notice their discomfort as she then turned to them with an urgent look in her eyes.
"Students, please return to the Gryffindor tower, and do not leave it! I will be activating lockdown measures to seal the castle, so get back there now!"
"Yes, Professor!" they all chorused as one, and together they took off running out of her office.
However, halfway there, Harry froze as his scar began to tingle and burn, and he let out a confused cry of pain, much to the surprise of his companions who all stopped and looked at him in worry.
"Harry?" Padma asked nervously.
"Something… something's coming!" Harry cried out as he clutched at his head, trying to get the squeezing pain to leave him.
And then, a moment later, they heard it. The sound of footsteps running down the corridor towards them.
Looking up, Harry let out a strangled gasp, and he saw a figure in a tattered robe barreling down the hall towards them.
As he got closer, it was clear to see that it was Professor Quirrell running towards them, except something was deathly wrong, and Harry's scar was burning with pain in response as the man came to an abrupt halt in front of them, as surprised as they were to see him.
It wasn't just the fact that Quirrell had what could only be the Mirror of Erised floating beside him, nor was it the fact that a stench of rot emanated from him. Or rather, from his turban, that made Harry's skin crawl.
No, what caused the pain and sense of wrongness were the red, glowing eyes full of madness and hate. That was what truly terrified Harry and sent a cold shiver down his spine.
To the man's credit, Professor Quirrell only stood there and stared at the ten First-Years in bewilderment for a couple seconds before his eyes alighted on Harry, and a sickening cross between a leer and a scowl smeared itself across the man's face.
"You're coming with me," the Defense professor snarled, glaring at the terrified children as he tried to reach out and grab Harry's wrist.
"You caused me to delay my plans by a whole week thanks to your meddling and those damned House Elves keeping an eye on everything," Quirrell growled in annoyance. "And then you went and somehow found out what I was doing despite the curse I used to blind the gaze of Hogwarts itself?! I need a hostage to make my escape, and who better than the Boy Who Lived?!"
Harry leapt away, or tried to, at least. A tugging sensation on his robes dragged him forward, causing him to stumble towards Quirrell, who lashed out and grabbed him by the scruff of his uniform.
"Let go of him!" Neville shouted, leaping at the demented professor, but was knocked aside with a snarl and flash of magical energy.
However, Neville had gotten close enough to grab ahold of a loose piece of Quirrell's turban, and the whole thing unraveled as he was sent flying.
Gasps and screams rang out as the First-Years all beheld what was underneath the garlic scented wrappings. Harry gagged a bit as well as the smell hit him, and wondered what it was his friends were seeing that was causing them to shriek like that.
Instead of wondering, however, he reached out and grabbed onto Quirrell's hands and tried to pry the teacher off of him. Only for Quirrell's flesh to explode into white-hot flames at Harry's touch.
Screaming in pain, the teacher dropped both the mirror and Harry, and staggered back. For some reason, Harry could have sworn he heard two voices crying out from Quirrell, but that was ridiculous… right?
'And why did I see myself in the mirror holding a red stone that I slipped into my pocket?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. It had been a mere glance, but it had happened when he caught sight of the mirror when it fell from Quirrell's spell.
"You- what have you done to me?!" Quirrell screeched, before drawing his wand and casting a cutting curse onto his own limb to stop the fire from spreading. It worked. Sort of. The mystical flames didn't go any further as the arm dropped to the ground, and even those soon sputtered and died out, leaving a burnt-out husk on the floor.
Quirrell turned his wand onto Harry, a snarl on his lips, but the Boy Who Lived had reacted just as fast, and already gotten his wand out as soon as he'd been released from his clutches.
"LUMOS!" Harry shouted, blasting an overpowered Light charm right in his professor's face.
Blinded, the man screeched in agony and clawed at his eyes, only for a voice to shout out, "Turn around, idiot!"
Quirrell obeyed, and turned his back to Harry, revealing the twisted, ugly face melted onto the back of the professor's head. Black tar-like goo dribbled from the anger-filled eyes and fang-filled mouth, and the nose was just a pair of slits, while the ears were tiny little holes in the side of his head.
"Oh," Harry muttered, feeling ill. No wonder his friends had screamed when they'd seen it. Shakily, he raised his wand, feverishly trying to think of a spell to do something – ANYTHING! – to save himself from this abomination.
"Harry Potter," the face hissed out.
"Voldemort," Harry replied, realizing just who he was looking at.
'And now the pain in my scar makes sense,' he thought weakly.
"Your Mudblood mother isn't here to save you now," the remnant hissed out.
In response, Harry spat at him. To everyone's shock, the glob of spit sizzled and melted Voldemort's flesh as if it were acid.
"Kill the boy! KILL HIM!" the face on the back of Quirrell's head howled furiously, and his host obeyed, starting to turn around, but Harry had a crazy idea.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, and the Mirror of Erised jerked and rose off the ground. Then it came flying towards the freaky fusion of professor and Dark Lord.
Quirrell raised his wand to try and zap it with a spell, but whatever it was he'd tried to use on it bounced off, hitting a suit of armor nearby instead.
Then the mirror slammed into the professor, which sent him flying into Harry, whose hands accidentally brushed up against the sides of the professor's neck.
Quirrell and Voldemort screamed once more in unison as the flames consumed him hungrily, and in Harry's opinion, vindictively.
On a mad whim, Harry decided to help the flames along, and grabbed onto the sides of his professor's head. Or, heads, rather.
Harry stared into Voldemort's red eyes. No words needed to be said. Every drop of hate and loathing he felt towards the man who'd murdered parents was poured into him through their locked gaze, and the Dark Lord sneered as if amused.
And then Voldemort's eyes exploded as cleansing white fire burst from his sockets and devoured them, the rest of his face melting away under the heat.
A moment later there was a banshee-like shriek, and a cloud of black smoke in the form of a deformed skull erupted out of Quirrell's mouth before shooting off down the corridor away from the group.
All that was left behind was a charred pile of ash in Quirrell's robes, and after staring at it for a few seconds in disbelief, Harry slowly pushed it aside and stood back up, unable to tear his gaze away from the remains of the possessed professor.
Something had to be said. Something needed to be done to reassure his friends who were staring at him and the pile of ash with mixed emotions. Mostly shock. But there was a lot of awe and fear as well, the latter directed at what was left of Voldemort's host.
After thinking it over, Harry knew what he had to say.
"I've heard of having eyes in the back of one's head, but this is just ridiculous," Harry muttered, causing a groan to come from his friends at the one liner.
"Really, Harry?" Ron uttered.
Before anything else could be said, more footsteps rang out, and Dumbledore appeared down one end of the corridor while McGonagall and the rest of the faculty were at the other, all of them stopping short as they saw the ashen remnants of Quirrell in front of Harry.
"Can someone please explain what is going on, and what happened here?" Dumbledore asked after a moment of scanning the area.
Harry shrugged and brushed a bit of Voldemort off of his robes. "Magic," he replied blithely.
The fact that Neville broke out into gasps of laughter which were soon echoed by the rest of the First-Years had the old man blink in befuddlement.
"I see," he said slowly, before shaking his head. He must be getting old. He just didn't understand the humor of children these days.
After everyone was done laughing hysterically, Dumbledore ushered the group of children away from the hallway (and Quirrell's mortal remains) to the nurse's office to have the students checked over and then questioned over the events in the corridor. Extra attention was given to Harry as he informed the teachers what had happened, while Madam Pomfrey checked him and his fellow First Years for injuries.
"…and for some reason, my touch seemed to hurt Professor Quirrell. It caused his flesh to burst into literal flames," Harry said, wrapping up his tale. "So, I used the Levitation Charm to send the mirror flying towards Quirrell. Voldemort. Whoever it was."
Harry then rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, I think I may have overpowered it like I did the Lumos, and it smacked into Quirrellmort and sent him flying back into me. And then, well, I accidentally touched his skin against mine, and he exploded. Again, literally."
Harry decided not to bring up the fact he had held onto Voldemort's face intentionally in order to inflict as much pain as he could. He wasn't sure he liked what that said about him, and thinking back on it, it scared the young boy.
"Brilliant use of simple spells to control the battlefield, Mister Potter!" Professor Flitwick praised, distracting Harry slightly from his morbid thoughts. "Forty Points to Gryffindor!"
"Thank you, sir," Harry said with a slight nod. "When I did that, a weird skull-shaped ball of smoke flew out of Quirrell's mouth, and then it flew away. That's when you found us."
"Tell 'em about the one liner!" Dean urged from the side, and Harry flushed red with embarrassment.
"Nope," he said, refusing to ever speak of it again.
"It seems you've had something of an adventure tonight," Dumbledore said slowly, eyes twinkling proudly as he looked over the students.
"Yes, we did," Harry said, before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "I don't like the fact it happened at all, but I suppose something like it was to be expected, what with the Philosopher's Stone being hidden here."
"How do you know about the stone?!" Madam Sprout gasped, and the teachers all tensed up, save Dumbledore, who simply watched the group of children curiously.
"Was it supposed to be a secret? Because it really wasn't, if you knew where to look and who to ask," Harry said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the teachers.
"Nobody but the faculty was told that it was in our possession," Snape said, his oily voice oozing with suspicion.
"Yeah, and Hagrid is faculty. He's a good bloke, but can't keep a secret," Harry explained.
"We saw a newspaper clipping in his cabin that said a vault at Gringotts had been broken into, and then he got all upset and told us it wasn't our business," Ron added. "He then said something about the matter being between the headmaster and Nicholas Flamel."
"We looked up the name, and discovered who he was, and what he was famous for," Hermione piped up.
"By logical deduction, the only thing Fluffy could be guarding related to the famous alchemist would be the legendary Philosopher's Stone," Neville finished.
"Fluffy?" Flitwick asked, confused.
"That's what Hagrid called the three-headed dog guarding the room on the Third Floor," Harry explained. "Who else would?"
The professors all shared uneasy looks with each other as they realized just how easily the secret had been discovered.
"I knew we should have protested this plan of yours harder, Dumbledore," MacGonagall muttered under her breath, though she could help but let a bit of pride seep into her voice.
"Or at the very least made sure a smaller group of people knew of it," Flitwick added. "No offense to Hagrid, of course. He's a kind soul, but, uh, not the best with secrets, apparently."
"Agreed. Fellow can handle an ornery thestral or redcap like no one's business, but he doesn't know when to shut his mouth," an elderly professor with three limbs replaced by prosthetics grumbled. "Also, I'm not happy with your choice of room placement for the Cerberus either, Dumbledore. A dog like that needs space to roam!"
"It was the best place for the guardian of the stone to be," Dumbledore said with an air of finality. The maimed professor looked like he wanted to protest some more, but a hand on his shoulder from the Astronomy teacher caused him to mumbled but leave it be. For now.
"Alright, that's enough, everyone but the children out," Madam Pomfrey declared, ushering the adults away from Harry's bed.
"There are still things that need to be discussed…" Dumbledore protested, but a sharp look from the matron caused him to clam up. You don't mess with an angry medi-witch, and Madam Pomfrey had the look of someone ready to start hexing if she wasn't obeyed.
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Dumbledore and the rest of the teachers hastily departed, leaving the healer alone with the children.
She turned a softer gaze to the First-Years, but there was a stern glint in her eyes. "Now, why don't you lot wait here. I have some potions to give you to calm down, if you want. I also have some potions that'll give you a good's night sleep."
Murmured assents from the students rang out, and the nurse walked off to fetch them, leaving the First Years alone for the moment.
Harry looked at his classmates and friends. They looked back. Various expressions lingered on their faces, but he wasn't able to read them properly. There was fear, though. He knew that one all too well. As well as disgust and anger, but thankfully neither of those emotions were on display.
"So… crazy night, huh?" Dean said weakly, trying to break the silence. Hermione shot him a scathing look, causing the red-head to flinch back.
"Not the time," Seamus whispered to him, Sally-Anne nodding her head in agreement.
"Are you guys doing alright?" Harry asked softly, looking at the group in concern. "Neville, you didn't get too badly hurt when he threw you into the wall?"
"Just a cracked rib or two. But Nurse Pomfrey already gave me some Skelegrow. I'll be right as rain by morning," Neville assured him, unable to hide the grimace as the portly boy recalled the foul taste of the bone restoring potion.
Harry nodded, relieved, but noticed that Hermione's eyes were watering and her lip was quivering.
"Hermione? Are you okay?" he inquired softly.
"I'm so sorry, Harry!" Hermione suddenly blubbered, lunging forward to crush him in a hug all while crying into his shoulder. Harry blinked in confusion at the display of emotions.
"Um, why?" he asked slowly.
"What? Mate, we, we froze up," Ron replied. "When Quirrell… when Volde- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, attacked you, we should have helped! But Neville was the only one who managed to do anything!"
"That's not your fault, he caught us all by surprise," Harry said.
"We didn't even have our wands with us!" Lavender exclaimed tearfully.
"And those of us who did, we didn't even think to try and use them," Dean added somberly, earning a nod from Sally-Anne.
"But that's not your fault, either! You were scared!" Harry protested.
"But we should have done something to help!" Seamus stated. "And that's why we're all upset."
"We're Gryffindors. We're supposed to be prepared for stuff like this," Kellah said morosely.
"We won't let it happen again," Padma declared firmly, earning nods from everyone else.
"Well, okay, then," Harry said, feeling warm and fuzzy inside at so many people showing concern for him. But not only that, they also wanted to improve for his sake. To do something about their weakness instead of uttering platitudes.
"Alright now, children, settle down, settle down," Madam Pomfrey requested, walking over to the group. "I have potions for sleepless dreams for all of you, if you wish."
"I could use one," Dean admitted, Lavender nodding in agreement.
"Very well. Once you've drunk them, you will. Except you two, Mr. Potter and Longbottom. You will be staying here overnight."
"But, we're fine," Harry protested, only to have the nurse place a hand on his head. He winced at the coolness of her palm against his scar, and she tutted.
"You're rather feverish, Mr. Potter. That much magical energy coursing through your body, and the fact it was caused by an unknown magical reaction… well, better to be safe than sorry. And Mr. Longbottom will be staying here so I can make sure his ribs heal up properly." She then swept her gaze over the rest of the First Years. "Understood?"
"We'll come back tomorrow morning," Hermione assured them. Harry and Neville both nodded
"Harry! Neville!" Susan shouted as she rushed into the infirmary the next morning, Hannah hot on her heels.
"Sue?" Harry mumbled sleepily, stirring a bit as her voice pierce the fuzzy peacefulness of sleep and woke him up.
"Why didn't you come get us?" she demanded when she got to his bed, Hannah nodding in agreement. Nearby, Neville groaned a bit as he started to wake up. Harry sleepily grabbed his glasses and put them on, blinking slowly as he looked at his visitor.
There were tears in Susan's eyes as she stood at his bedside, and Harry felt a twinge of guilt upon seeing that.
"Sorry," he apologized with a wince. "We would have gone to get you two, but Professor McGonagall told us to return to the dorms. Voldemort caught us by surprise."
"Dummy," the Hufflepuff grumbled, shivering at his mention of the Dark Lord.
"What in Helga's name happened last night?" Hannah asked. "We all heard McGonagall's announcement, but after that, nothing. And also: Beg pardon?! You're saying You-Know-Who was in the castle?!"
"It started off with a bad feeling in my gut. And a sharp pain in my skull. Well, I told the others, but the rest of the First Years overheard us, and so we had to tell them what happened. Then, we went down to Professor McGonagall's office to tell her what'd happened. It was Professor Quirrell. He'd gotten past Fluffy, but the announcement spooked him and he ran out of there. He had this magical mirror with him…" Harry began, but was cut off.
"You could tell it was magical?" Susan interrupted, surprised.
"Um, yes? I mean, why else would he have been carting it around? It was obviously important, and since the only magic mirror I know of is that Mirror of Erised you found, I just put one and two together," Harry replied. "Anyways, he had it, and I smacked him with it after he ran into us. Worked better than I thought."
He looked down at his hands. "Voldemort was possessing Quirrell's body, and when I touched them… they burned. And when I hit him with the mirror, he fell onto me. And I… I burned him, Susan. I burned him until he was dead."
He looked up at her, and although he knew Hannah and Neville were watching and listening, he didn't care. The only person in his eyes was Susan.
"Susan… I don't feel bad about doing that. I wanted him to die. Does that… am I a bad person?"
"Harry…" the brunette mumbled. She then leaned in and hugged him. Neither said anything for a long time, until she finally released him.
"Harry, you are not a bad person," she assured him. "You may have hurt somebody, but he… I hate to say it, but he deserved it. And nobody can blame you for not knowing your very touch would scorch the professor or You-Know-Who."
"My parents were killed by the Dark Lord," Susan told Harry. "Maybe not personally, but it was his minions who did the deed at his orders. If I had the same chance to hurt the person who'd harmed my family… I would have done the same."
"Really?"
"Harry, doing something bad doesn't make you a bad person. Do you regret it?"
"No," Harry said with a shake of his head. "He was… Voldemort is evil."
"Right. Now, are you going to go around and hurt somebody else when you get out of the infirmary? Are you going to start slapping people and setting them on fire?"
"What? No!" Harry protested.
"Then don't worry about being a bad person. Because you're not," Susan told him firmly. "And maybe… maybe the guilt will hit you hard later. You're… I don't claim to be a medi-witch, but you could still be in shock. Perhaps it just doesn't seem real to you. But whatever happens, know that I'm on your side."
"We're all on your side, Harry," Neville interjected, and Harry looked over at him. The other boy was blinking the sleep out of his eyes, but there was a steely determination in them.
"I agree with Susan. Vold- You-Know-Who was a monster. A bad man. And honestly, he wasn't really alive at all, so you couldn't have killed him in the first place. I mean, living people don't just literally attach themselves to others in order to survive. As for Professor Quirrell… well, was he even who he was supposed to be after having the Dark Lord latch onto him? And since You-Know-Who was after the Philosopher's Stone, he must have been the one who was hunting unicorns in the Forbidden Forest, trying to prolong his miserable existence. So you could consider those flames you made a result of the unicorns' cursed blood finally taking its toll."
Harry nodded slowly. That made sense to him. Why had his touch triggered such a bad reaction in the first place? As Neville said, it was entirely plausible this was just a result of the unicorns' curse.
But Harry had the feeling there had to be more to strange phenomena. Some sort of deeper explanation for why Harry's touch alone had done so much harm to the possessed Defense professor. He'd seen other students accidentally brush up against the man's hands in class when he handed back homework, and they didn't illicit such a volatile reaction.
Curiously, a hand wandered up to his scar. It no longer burned or ached. But thinking back on it, the scar had throbbed the closer he was to Voldemort during the fight in the corridor. And it'd done so even more painfully after the turban was removed.
'There's a connection between my scar and Voldemort,' Harry realized. Edward had said something like that, hadn't he? The only mark on him after being hit by the unavoidable, unblockable, unstoppable, Killing Curse being this lightning bolt shaped scar.
Seeing Harry's fingers brush against his scar caused Susan to feel a pang of regret and sympathy for him, but also empathy. He was just like her, after all. An orphan. But unlike him, she loved her aunt. Harry? He never mentioned his family if he could help it.
At first she'd thought Edward was related to the Boy-Who-Lived given how much Harry spoke of him, but no, apparently he'd been a Squib who'd grown up near the Weasleys according to Ron, and he'd moved off to London to live as a Muggle. That he and Harry had bumped into each other was a completely coincidence. Regardless, Susan was glad he had somebody to care for him when he left school for the summer.
"Well, at least you won't miss the end of year feast," Hannah said, interrupting both Susan and Harry's thoughts. "Can't wait to see the expression the Slytherins make when they loose the House Cup to us Puffs! They already lost the Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor, and despite Snape's best efforts, we've been getting points left and right!"
"I dunno, Flitwick gave us forty points last night," Neville said smugly, causing Hannah to gasp.
"No! That takes you out of third place and firmly in first!" the blonde Hufflepuff groaned, clutching her head. Then, she got a determined look on her face. "No choice, we have to go do something good in front of a teacher to get some last-minute points! Come on, Susan!"
Hannah grabbed her friend by the arm and dragged her out, Susan offering a quick apology and a "See you later!" before being hustled out.
Neville laughed in amusement at their departure, before a loud rumble rang out through the infirmary. He looked around, confused and startled by the loud noise, before turning towards Harry, who blushed and looked down at his bedsheets as his stomach roared in hunger.
Madam Pomfrey had heard Harry as well, and quickly bustled over. "Ah, you're awake. Good. No complications for either of you."
"Can we go get some breakfast?" Neville asked hopefully, and the matron nodded.
"Yes. Please don't go fight any more Dark wizards, though."
"No promises," Harry said. A faint snort escaped the nurse before she could help herself.
"Just like your father," she muttered, before glancing at Neville. "Do try to be more like yours, Mr. Longbottom."
"What do you mean?" Neville asked, and Harry listened eagerly as well.
"Mr. Potter, your father was something of a rascal, not unlike the Weasley Twins, though with a larger group of friends," Madam Pomfrey explained, taking pity on the boys upon seeing their expressions. "And as for Mr. Longbottom, your father was well-known for constantly trying to curb the Marauders' antics during his time as a Prefect."
"He was a Prefect?" Neville inquired.
"The Marauders?" Harry asked at the same time.
"Yes to your question, Mr. Longbottom. And the Marauders were what your father called his group of troublemakers, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey informed them. "Now, you're both healed, and breakfast should still be being served in the Great Hall. Run along!"
She ushered the boys out of the infirmary, and let them leave, though both boys shared a disappointed look. They so rarely got to hear about their parents that it was always a treat to learn even a little bit about them.
"You know, I bet Professor McGonagall knows a bunch of stories about our parents when they were our age," Harry said slowly, and Neville perked up at that.
"Yeah… yeah, you're right! I'm sure if we asked, she'd tell us a few stories!" Neville said excitedly.
This time however, it was Neville's stomach which growled loudly in demand of sustenance, and Harry chuckled at the embarrassment that crossed his face.
"I think Madam Pomfrey had a good idea about food. And maybe we'll run into our House mates while we're there. Come on, Nev," Harry said, and the two hurried off down the halls.
As he went down the hallway, he thought back on the events of yesterday and earlier in the morning. Harry felt he'd gotten closer to his friends, but he also had a sneaking suspicion that had not been the last time Voldemort would show himself, or that Harry would get involved with the Dark Lord.
'I'll be ready next time,' he vowed. 'I won't flail around helplessly! I'll be able to fight! And I will protect everyone!'
Voldemort wouldn't know what'd hit him!
'Although, where did this red rock in my pocket come from?' Harry couldn't help but wonder in bewilderment, as he pulled it out of his robe's left pocket, before shaking his head and putting it back into the pocket and out of his mind, completely forgetting for the moment that he'd already seen the stone before in the mirror Voldemort had been carrying.
And so, the Philosopher's Stone was ignored and forgotten in the hubbub surrounding Voldemort's return, and only Dumbledore would wonder where it had gone when he went to inspect the mirror and Quirrell's remains.
Chapter 34: Chapter 34: Beginning of Summer
Chapter Text
Chapter 34: The Beginning of Summer
I shifted about on a worn stool, neck a bit sore from having to lean back to watch the game, but I ignored it. Watching every moment was too important for a bit of discomfort to matter. I wasn't the only person watching the TV in the tiny pub at the edge of town, but I was the one most invested in the outcome.
It was the afternoon of June 26th, and today was the final match of the 1992 European Football Cup. Denmark versus Germany. Victory would determine if I truly knew the future, and could control it for my benefit.
Nervously, I stared at the screen as the game played out. I had bet all of my winnings from the first bet on Denmark, which had originally been the money my mother had given me on my sixteenth birthday this year. I'd gone from five thousand pounds to a hundred and fifty thousand thanks to the long odds.
If my gamble failed, it would suck. And badly. Sure, I hadn't bet any of my own hard-earned wealth, but losing over a hundred grand would cause anyone to spit up blood in despair. I mean, I'd never had that much money in my first life. Yet the outcome was worth it if my gamble succeeded. Still, I couldn't help but nervously tap a finger against my leg, watching and waiting.
It also didn't help that Harry was supposed to return later today as well. The Hogwarts Express was a long ride, taking eight-ish hours to get back to London, but he would finally be home for the hols.
I wanted to meet him at the station when he arrived, but that would have been a bad idea. Too crowded, and I didn't want everyone in the magical world to know about my close connection with him.
'Besides, I threatened the Dursleys into going to pick him up. They'll be there for him,' I thought to myself. I'd also told the Dursleys I'd be taking Harry with me after two weeks. Just long enough for the Blood Wards to replenish. He'd be out of their hair, and spending the rest of summer break with me, including two weeks in France.
An excited shout rang out from the other patrons in the bar, and I snapped my attention back to the game.
"Another goal! WOO! Go Denmark!" I cheered along with some others.
'If everything I know goes right… then that was the last goal of the game!' I thought excitedly. In my timeline, Germany failed to get a single goal, ending the game 2-0 in Denmark's favor, netting them the cup. All that remained was to wait and see what would happen.
And then several minutes later I watched, mouth open in shock, as the ball made it into the net mere moments before the final buzzer rang out.
"No way!" I hissed out, uncaring if anyone heard me. Germany scored?! How?!
They still didn't have enough to win, and Denmark was still the overall victor, but Germany wasn't supposed to score a goal!
'This… is not the future I thought I knew,' I thought to myself nervously. I still won on my bet, because I'd bet on Denmark to win and nothing else, but still, this was surprising.
'I know what this means,' I decided after a moment of deep thought. 'This is… a warning. My knowledge of the events of the future isn't perfect. I cannot act like things will come to pass exactly as I know them.'
This was a wake-up call for me, one I hadn't realized I'd needed until it slapped me right in the face.
Why had I expected everything to play out as it did in my old world? There were similarities, but magic didn't exist in my previous life, or if it did, it didn't take the form of JK Rowling's version of it.
The very fact that things had similarities to my old life were pure coincidence. I had to understand that I couldn't rely on my old experiences. They were a decent guide, nothing more.
'But that sort of thinking can be put to the side for the moment,' I decided, letting the glee I'd been holding back trickle in.
Three million Pounds Sterling! That was the amount of money I'd just won after betting on Denmark winning the 1992 Football World Cup!
I licked my lips as I stared at the scoreboard on the TV in front of me. This was more money than I'd ever had, in both this life or the last! Combined!
'I can afford that other storefront now! I'll be able to ramp up my business and really hit the ground running with this money!' I thought giddily, unable to hide my glee with Occlumency fully.
I wasn't alone, thankfully. Plenty of patrons had been cheering on both sides, though they seemed to favor Denmark as the underdog, which made sense. Nobody was expecting Denmark to do as well as it did, hence the crazy odds I'd taken advantage of.
So I whooped and hollered along with the rest of the crowd as an impromptu party broke out.
'This is fine. I don't have to be all-knowing about the future to take advantage of things,' I thought to myself. I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince myself or not.
After celebrating a bit, one of the first things I did after getting home from the pub was call up Archibald and inform him about the good news. I wanted to keep my sudden rise in fortune as secret as possible, but I still needed somebody to trust with this knowledge.
After letting him known about my recent windfall, Archibald had gotten me in contact with a trustworthy accountant and financial advisor – a Squib, of course, so he could handle the money I'd make in both worlds – and I immediately made sure the winnings were sent his way so he could put it away safely.
Through my accountant's help, a third of my winnings were turned into galleons and stored with Gringotts. The goblins kept the wizarding economy stable if nothing else, and I'd need magical currency to afford magical resources. Then, I turned another third into dollars and kept the final third as Pounds Sterling. Several bank accounts were opened up for me locally, as well as across the pond in the USA. Those would be funds for my foray into the tech world as well as other investment opportunities in a few years.
Best of all, thanks to some help from Archibald's financial advisor, my winnings wouldn't be taxed as heavily as they normally would be. Just because I'd won several million pounds didn't mean I'd actually get that amount, not after the government took its cut. But with some deft help – and also some magical shenanigans and less than legal loopholes – my newfound wealth was mostly safe and secure.
To that end, I had kept 'only' one hundred thousand Pounds Sterling in direct, liquid cash-assets, with the remainder of the Pounds Sterling put aside for business investments, such as new storefronts, marketing, and supplies.
And in the States, I had nearly two million dollars squirreled away thanks to the exchange rate of one pound being worth a dollar and eighty cents at the time. As for my Gringotts accounts, I had two hundred thousand galleons ready to be used.
Having so much money was intoxicating, and I had to rely on my Occlumency a lot in order to avoid succumbing to the desire to buy a bunch of frivolous things now that I could afford to do so.
Still, now that I had money, I was even more aware of the various economic downturns that would soon hit England and the world than ever before.
Sadly, I wasn't in a position to do much about it. Archibald's contacts in the financial world only went so far, and I only knew the broad strokes of the event in question. I knew it would happen, though, so the best I could do at the moment was shuffle my investments around so they would be safer.
For now, all I could do was wait for September to see if the economic collapse I'd predicted would come about or not.
'On the bright side, the recession will mean some commercial properties will be cheaper. Diversifying assets into the real estate game could be beneficial,' I mused to myself, only to pause as what I was thinking sank in.
'Oh, God! I'm turning into a scummy landlord!' I realized in horror.
After a few minutes to try and calm down from my perfectly justifiable panic attack, I sorted through the rest of my thoughts for the future.
Business-wise on the internet side of things, it wouldn't be until 1995 that the Dotcom Bubble would truly take off. And then, it would pop in March of 2000, so I had a couple years to start looking into and investing in tech. And buying up the failed businesses. Google, Microsoft, Apple, and Amazon would emerge from this era and grow to become juggernauts in the future, and I was determined to have my slice of the pie.
'I should make a trip to Silicon Valley at some point,' I mused to myself. Another thing to put on the to-do list. I also wanted to visit Magical America because I'd heard some interesting things about it, and from the whispers, it seemed a lot of investment opportunities might be coming around soon in that region.
On the local magical side of things, Harry's second year was where things started to get dicey. Oh, his first year at Hogwarts was a mess, but you can't exactly deny that a freaking thousand-year-old basilisk wasn't a drastic ramping up of the stakes.
'Note to self, have Harry learn Protego and Expeliarmus as soon as possible,' I mused to myself. 'And get to work replicating Hexes like Piercing and Bludgeoning for my own defense purposes. Oh, and get more guns.'
I'd kept the ones I'd stolen from the kidnappers last Christmas, but I was an American at heart, and you could never have enough firepower. Plus, I was really curious to find out if I could enchant bullets or inscribe runes on them.
For now, though, I had a meeting with Mrs. Finch-Fletchley. Not about business, for once, but a tutoring session for her son, Justin.
He'd gotten back from Hogwarts safe and sound, but whatever he'd told them about his time there had had them immediately call me up the evening he returned and asked me to tutor him in mundane school lessons.
'I wonder what caused this change of heart,' I wondered as I rang their doorbell early in the afternoon of Monday, 29th of June. The Finch-Fletchley's had seemed fine with letting Justin go through Hogwarts without dipping into Muggle education when I'd met with them in the past, so this was an interesting turn of events.
A servant greeted me, and I was escorted into a drawing room where Mrs. Finch-Fletchley was waiting for me on a couch.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley," I said in greeting, and she beamed at me.
"Please, darling, you know you can call me Josephine," she replied.
"Old habits die hard," I claimed with a faint chuckle.
"True, true, and I suppose I can't blame you for being polite," Justin's mother said. "Now, how are you?"
"Doing well. Graduated top of my class at Woolingsby, as expected," I said, feeling proud at that. I'd escaped the hell that was public education. Time to dive into the nightmare that was higher education!
"Looking forward to Oxford?" she inquired, and I nodded.
"Yes, I'm eager to start attending."
"And I'm sure the fact Delilah is attending as well has nothing to do with your excitement," she teased me, and I couldn't help but blush.
"How's Justin doing?" I asked, deflecting, and she nodded back knowingly.
"He's been having some trouble adjusting to life with electricity again, and having a room all to himself," Justin's mother chuckled. "Other than that, he is eager to meet with old friends over the summer."
"I'll try not to bog him down too much with homework," I promised, and she grinned and nodded.
"Oh, by the way, before I forget, I will be gone for two weeks starting from the 17th of July until the 31st," I informed Mrs. Finch-Fletchley. "I'm having a bit of vacation in France. But don't worry, I'll make sure Justin has plenty of worksheets to do while I'm gone."
"How lovely! I do hope you have fun," she said. "And thank you for informing me, and giving my Justin the attention he needs."
Josephine then motioned for the door. "Come this way, we can find Justin in his room."
Justin's room was cluttered, bits and bobs from Hogwarts mingling with piles of stuff from his mundane side of things, and he looked up, a bit embarrassed, when his mother and I arrived.
"Sorry, bit messy," he apologized, moving some things off of a desk and onto a large, four-poster bed.
"No worries, I know how hard it is to keep a room clean," I said, thinking back to my first life.
"Have fun you two!" Josephine said, before leaving the two of us alone.
"So, any idea why your parents want you to take mundane schooling as well as Hogwarts?" I asked Justin as an ice breaker, who nodded.
"They told me it was because they wanted me to be well-rounded," Justin replied. "But I think they were just horrified by the curriculum at Hogwarts. Did you know we have to take Astronomy classes, but there's no math and science, or literature classes at all? I mean, I guess you could call potions a Chemistry class, but not really."
"Astronomy is useful to know, although only for potions and Herbology," I said. "I've always thought that class could be cut entirely from the Hogwarts curriculum because you can learn about the moon and stars and stuff when you need it. And don't let Snape hear you say that about his course."
"Yeah, we learned that right quick after a girl in Hufflepuff lost twenty points in our first lesson for comparing potion making to cooking," Justin said with a grimace.
"Well, the man's wrong," I said with a shake of my head. "It's not a one to one, but that's a completely acceptable comparison. I've read potion magazines that do the same. Honestly, why they keep him as a teacher when he's so terrible at it baffles me."
"Yeah, same. Nobody likes him. Well, maybe the Slytherins, but that's it," Justin replied.
"Well, let's get started on some basic worksheets and stuff," I said, turning to the main reason I was here. "I brought some of my old notes and tests from my time in Year 7 and 8 to see where you are, exactly. We'll do math and history first, which will be the most important ones if your parents are going to make you get a Muggle GED."
I laid out a few pieces of paper that had several mathematical equations on them, as well as some questions about basic history, onto his desk. I could see Justin droop out of the corner of my eye, and nodded sympathetically.
"Yeah, it's a bummer, but it's important to learn," I told him. Then, a clever idea hit me. "Tell you what! If you manage to do these worksheets, I'll throw in a couple lessons about magic that the other First Years likely won't know anything about."
"Really?" he asked, perking up, and revealing that he could have gotten sorted into Ravenclaw with that sort of excitement towards magic.
"Absolutely! I know a lot of things that aren't taught in First or even Second years. I'll even let you pick the subject," I told him. "But that's only if you finish these worksheets. You don't even need to ace them. I just need to know where you are, education wise, so I can plan your future lessons around that level."
"Okay!" Justin said eagerly, and he dove into the assignment I'd given him.
He was done in only an hour, but I hadn't given him all that much in the first place. Then, I quickly looked it over, and found he had history more or less nailed down, but his math needed some work.
I told him as such, which made Justin sigh. "Ugh, math," he muttered.
"I can tell you won't be taking Arithmancy when it's offered," I chuckled.
"Arithmancy?" he asked, curious.
"A third-year elective at Hogwarts. It's magical math, basically."
"Math that's magical?" Justin inquired, sounding intrigued.
"It's fascinating, but painfully dry and boring. Much like regular math," I warned him, causing Justin to flinch.
"So, as I said, I'll answer some questions you have," I told Justin.
"Neat!" he said excitedly, and opened his mouth to ask something, only to close it a moment later.
"Can't decide what to ask?" I guessed with a faint chuckle, and Justin nodded sheepishly.
"Yeah. I've got a whole bunch of 'em rattling around in my head, but I can't exactly figure out which ones I want to ask first," he admitted with a weak laugh.
"No shame in that," I assured him. "How about I teach you some magic anybody can use that doesn't need a wand?"
That got him to sit up eagerly, and I took out some paper. I folded the sheets and then cut them into strips, before using a pen to draw symbols onto them.
"These are a form of Japanese magic called 'Ofuda' or magic tags," I said as I drew a Stunner Tag. "Usually, you need blood or some other special ingredients mixed into the ink, but it should be fine with your passive magic."
"What do they do?" Justin asked curiously.
"Well, this one I've drawn up acts similar to Stupify, the Stunning spell," I explained. "Channel magic into it, and it will fly off and attach to somebody and knock them out them. No need for a wand. Of course, it's only a one-use talisman that burns up after activating on the target, so you need to make more."
"Whoa! Is this like Runes?" he asked. "I've heard about them at Hogwarts, but they don't teach it until our third year."
"Good eye! Yes, Ofuda operate off of a similar system that Ancient Runes do. They are, at the most basic, symbols that guide magical energy in certain ways to produce spell-like effects. You can consider it sort of like a computer program or electrical circuits," I explained.
"How does that work, though?" Justin wondered.
"Why does saying things in pseudo-Latin create magical effects? Why do you have to wave a wand in a certain way? No one is entirely sure. Though, if you ask me, spell incantations as well as Runes are crutches of sorts. Magic is based purely on intent. It's why you can cast without words, or even a wand, at higher levels. Wands and Runes just make it easier to guide the magical energy into doing what you want."
Whoa," Justin murmured.
"Whoa indeed. Now, how about we try some of these Ofuda out?" I offered.
"Yeah!" he exclaimed, and reach out for the talisman's I'd made, only to move them away from his reach.
"Wait, don't use it around your wand," I warned him before he could touch the Ofuda, belatedly recalling an important fact about magic, specifically underaged forms of it.
"What? Why not?" he asked.
"Because all wands have what it known as a 'Trace' on them to detect underaged uses of magic," I explained. "It fades after six years, so you can cast spells freely then, but any time you use magic near a wand with the Trace, the Ministry detects it."
"So, wait, it detects magic even if I don't use my wand for it?" he asked, confused, and I nodded.
"Yes, the Trace detects any magic used in the vicinity. Doesn't matter from who or what, it will sense it, and register it as a violation of the rules. As such, the restrictions against underaged magic use are only really enforced on muggleborn or halfbloods who live out in the non-magical side of things."
That was how in the second book, Harry had been blamed for the use of magic by Dobby, as the Trace on his wand had detected the House Elf using magic. Same deal for Harry's accidental magic outburst in the 3rd book, and then his use of the Patronus in the 5th book. The Trace just knew magic had been used nearby and so sent the warning to the Ministry.
And, being a passive charm to monitor magic and not able to tell the difference, only homes that lacked magic of any kind would be investigated for magical misuse via the Trace. Even a couple basic wards or magical items like the floo would be detected by the Trace. Hence why the Ministry didn't investigate underaged magic use for any home that was registered as having a floo.
"That's unfair!" Justin griped, and I nodded.
"Indeed. I'm not sure how accurate the Trace is, but it can detect magic use within a dozen meters or so, and through walls and floors, too," I said, before glancing out the window in thought. "You've got a pretty big backyard, if we leave your wand up here in your room, it should be fine."
"That works," he said with a nod.
I carried the Ofuda, not wanting to risk them going off accidentally, and Justin led me outsides to the back yard. He had a pool out there, which was in the process of being cleaned for use in later in the summer. The Finch-Fletchley's also had a tennis yard, a bunch of ornamental statues, and a couple sheds.
"Alright, I think we can do it over here," I said, leaning against the fence. "Here, take one of these Stunner Ofuda, and use it on me."
"On you?" Justin asked nervously as he took the paper tags from me. "Won't this knock you out?"
"Yeah, I don't mind. You need a target, after all. And a Stunner is one of the safest offensive spells to use on a person, besides Expeliarmus, the Disarming Charm," I assured him.
"Okay… so, I just… use it as if it were a wand?" Justin asked slowly.
"Yup! Go ahead, feel your magic and let it out slowly into the paper. Treat the talisman like a wand!" I urged, and waited.
It took Justin a couple tries to get the magic flowing through the paper. Understandable, of course, the slips of paper hadn't been treated specially and were purely mundane, unlike the Ofuda charms I used myself, whose ink was basically a potion and the tags themselves made from magically treated ink, paper or parchment.
This was also a bit of an experiment of my own to see if Ofuda made with completely ordinary ink and paper could still be used by a magical person. The magic was in the symbols, not the materials. Or at least, it should be.
'Only one way to find out,' I thought, watching Justin closely.
After a couple of failed attempts, he finally managed to get the charm working.
"WHOA!" he suddenly exclaimed as the Ofuda in his hands suddenly started burning with bright red flames at the top.
"That's new," I muttered, before shouting, "Throw it at me, Justin!"
"What?!" he asked in disbelief.
"Do it! Throw the charm!" I told him, and after a moment of indecision, he did so, flicking the talisman like it was a playing card.
And it immediately zipped over to me, flashing through the air like a red streak before sticking to my chest.
I instantly felt the effects of the Stunner on my body, muscles stiffening and feeling my back get slammed into the fence behind me from the sudden pushing sensation that accompanied the Ofuda touching me. I remained standing, though only barely. My awareness immediately faded to black as I slumped weakly against the fence.
I knew the difference between Stunners and the Petrification spell. I'd experienced both at the wand of my father in his 'better' moods.
The first was a magical taser that stunned a person by forcing them into unconsciousness. Simple, effective, no mess!
Petrification, on the other hand, was the body locking up completely, being rendered utterly immobile with next to no control over any part of the body, not even the eyelids! There was no pain, either, and it lasted for minutes up to hours defending on which version was being cast. You were also awake and aware while Petrified, at least with the spell version.
"Whoo, that was something!" I wheezed out as I snapped back to consciousness a moment later.
"How long was I out?" I wondered.
"A couple seconds, only. Are you alright?" Justin asked nervously, and I nodded.
"Yeah, I'm good. Not the first time I've been stunned, and it probably won't be the last," I chuckled reassuringly. "Though I think you may have overpowered the Ofuda a bit. It's not supposed to burst into flames like that, just glow a little."
"Oh… oops?"
"Don't apologize! You've just got to get the hang of it! Come on, let's try it again!" I urged him. He smiled weakly, and raised another Ofuda, his eagerness to see and learn more about magic sparkling in his eyes.
Two more Ofuda later, and we were out of the ones I'd made for that short lesson. I didn't feel like making new ones either on account of my body feeling jittery, like I'd drank six cups of coffee and then been punched in the gut repeated.
Luckily, Justin was willing to let me go. In exchange for more magical knowledge and tidbits, which I supplied him.
We were taking a short break for tea – the Finch-Fletchley maids brewing an excellent cup – and chatting in the garden, when I recalled another matter I'd wanted to bring up with him.
"Do you think I could ask you something, Justin?" I inquired, and he looked at me in surprise but nodded all the same.
"Sure, what is it?"
"Was Harry… did Harry seem happy at Hogwarts?" I asked, feeling a bit silly to be asking that.
"Harry Potter? Well, I didn't see him all that often outside of Charms and Astronomy, but he looked to be having fun with his friends," Justin said. "I mean, he did fight a troll, but he was okay afterwards."
"A troll?" I asked, pretending I didn't already know about this.
"Oh, yeah! It happened during Halloween! Professor Quirrell ran in, shouting about a troll in the dungeon, and then the headmaster told everyone to stop panicking and head back to their dorms."
"Wait, you're saying Dumbledore sent students back to their dorms instead of keeping them safe inside the Great Hall?" I asked, feeling a bit angry, even though I knew this was going to happen.
"Um, yes?"
"So he sent the Slytherins to the dungeon. The same dungeons a troll was sighted at?" I demanded, and Justin blinked, before realization hit home.
"Oh… oh!" he gasped.
"That could have been a potentially fatal mistake on Dumbledore's part," I grumbled.
Justin then frowned. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but isn't your younger brother in Slytherin?"
"He is. Just because Rudy and I don't get along doesn't mean I want him dead," I told Justin truthfully. I then frowned. "Wait, but if the troll was in the dungeons, how did Harry and his friends run into it?"
"I, uh, huh, that's… a good question," Justin admitted. "I heard they fought it on the first floor, near one of the bathrooms."
"So the troll wasn't even in the dungeons by the time Quirrell managed to warn everybody," I groaned, and hearing it first hand from somebody else really drove home how poorly Dumbledore had handled the troll incident.
"Come to think of it, I don't think Harry and his friends were even in the Great Hall when the announcement happened," Justin said thoughtfully.
"Then where were they?" I asked.
"I don't know… I first thought they got separated from the other Gryffindors when they were heading back to the dorms, and I know some people were saying they went looking for the troll to show off," Justin said with a shrug.
"Well, that's something I'll have to ask Harry when I see him next," I said with a heavy sigh.
I then looked at Justin. "Do you think you could try and be friends with him when you return to Hogwarts?"
"I can try," Justin said with a slow nod, and I smiled gratefully at him.
"Wonderful. I hope you and he can get along. Harry needs a lot of good friends," I said. Then, I tapped the desk. "Now, let's get back to our lessons, shall we?"
Justin groaned, much to my amusement.
'Ah, well, he'll thank me later for it,' I thought to myself. I had a job to do, and it was time to get back to work!
Chapter 35: Chapter 35: Abduction
Chapter Text
Chapter 35: Abduction
Things had been going well for me. I'd won millions of pounds in a crazy one-off gamble, pushed farther with my business than I'd ever dreamed, started getting closer to Delilah, and tomorrow was the day I'd be picking up Harry from the Dursleys so he wouldn't have to suffer at their house anymore.
Perhaps things were going too well.
Honestly, I should have known that, with my luck, something bad was bound to happen to me after a streak of good fortune.
And then on my way back from tutoring Justin on a pleasant, slightly overcast July 15th, it happened. A black car drove right up to the curb, and two men jumped out and grabbed me! I was so shocked I didn't even think to resist, and before I knew it, I was in the backseat of the car, being driven to Merlin knows where!
I had to clamp down hard on my emotions via Occlumency, or else I would have started panicking. Since I was nice and calm, I was able to focus on being angry and indignant instead of afraid. I don't know who these bastards were working for, but their actions had put their boss on my shitlist.
"You know, I expected some scrutiny to come my way after winning big after the cup, but I'll be honest, I didn't expect to get kidnapped," I muttered, looking askance at my captors after the shock wore off.
Two burly men sat on either side of me, pressing me in and keeping me from bolting or peering through the tinted windows to figure out where I was being taken. They also remained silent, not interested in speaking to me, which I was annoyed by. They weren't talking or reacting, so I had no idea who they were or why they wanted me.
'At least I have a few items on me,' I thought to myself. The goons had frisked me when they'd brought me in, confiscating my wallet and keys, but hadn't gotten everything, luckily. My Bullet Time Ring was still on me, and would be useful for when I broke free, and I had a couple Stunner and Unlocking Ofuda tucked away in my shoes. It would have to be enough.
After ten minutes, the car came to a stop, and the doors opened. I was pulled out, and only had a little bit of time to register I was in an underground parking lot of some sort before being dragged away over to a door, which opened up and revealed stairs.
"Great, so not only did you assholes kidnap me, but you also want me to walk up a flight or two of stairs," I grunted. That earned me a shove from one of my 'escorts,' and I shut up and walked up a flight of stairs as they commanded.
They then led me down a hallway and into a room that was little more than an empty office space.
"So, this is him?" thin, reedy voice inquired. The speaker was a balding man. He was skinny and wore glasses, and was looking at me the way somebody might observe a particularly ugly animal at the zoo. Interest and disdain, with a hint of amusement.
He sat behind a desk in a room that had all the windows blacked out with paint. It gave it an ominous feeling.
"It's him. Came out of the Finch-Fletchley manor, and he matches the picture," one of the two goons stated.
"It'sa me," I said snarkily in a faux-Italian voice. That brought a frown to the balding man's face.
'Clearly not impressed by my impression,' I thought.
"How very crude," he sneered. "How you managed to get into the graces of the Finch-Fletchleys and the Hunts, I will never know. Your sudden windfall of several million pounds doesn't seem to have improved your manners at all, either."
I said nothing, even though I had a couple retorts burning on my tongue. Instead, I went over what had just been told to me.
'They know I'm associated with Justin's family and Delilah's. Not exactly intel that's hard to come by, but information about my winnings from gambling should be harder to uncover,' I thought to myself, eyes narrowed at the man.
He noticed my expression, and smirked. "Oh yes, we know all about you, Edward Rose."
'Not everything, apparently,' I thought to myself since they didn't use my original name, nor hint at anything from the magical side.
"Let me guess, you want me to spill the beans on my business endeavors with the two families, or something?" I replied, playing along as I folded my arms across my chest. "Or maybe you just want my money for some reason."
"We just want you sign a few things for us. Give us control of your business, including your manufacturing methods for the goods, and we'll let you go without any injury to your person."
"I see why you want my hair growth cream at least, you balding tosser," I retorted, which made him frown deeply.
"And why the hell should I trust people who kidnapped me?" I continued, glaring at him. "Plus, what makes you think I won't be rescued soon, or have people looking for me? You did snatch me off the street in broad daylight, after all."
"You really think we haven't prepared for that?" the balding man snorted. "If you don't cooperate, we can simply release what we know about you to the police. That way, when the police eventually find you, you'll wind up in a jail cell."
I raised an eyebrow at that, wondering what he meant, until it clicked. "You're related to the assholes who kidnapped Delilah," I realized. "You're not just jackboots for hire, you're part of some criminal group, who also has ties to somebody that knows her and the Finch-Fletchleys."
The smirk slid off of the man's face at that, and he leveled a neutral stare my way as he slid some documents on the table over to me.
"Sign," he ordered, and I picked up one of the sheets of paper to examine it. There was a lot of legalese that made my eyes glass over, but what I managed to glean from it and the other files was that I was basically selling my company and all of its intellectual property to them at dirt cheap prices.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, and tore the sheet of paper I was reading in two. The balding man – whose name still remained unknown – glared angrily and I heard the two thugs behind me shift.
I stayed calm and glared right back, and eventually Mr. Balding stood up.
"It seems you've accidentally torn the document," he said smoothly. "I shall fetch another copy."
He then left the room, leaving the two goons to guard me. I could escape at any time, of course. Calling for Inky and having him pop me away as soon as the goons weren't looking would be easy-peasy. Heck, even if they gagged me I could still call for him through the magical bond we shared. But I wanted to know who was behind this, so I held off on summoning the elderly House Elf. I had my suspicions, but I'd find out later.
'The real problem is if this place has any security cameras,' I mused to myself, doing my best to glance around without moving neck, lest I give away my intentions to the duo guarding me. 'I don't think it does, kidnappers probably wouldn't want there to be evidence of their misdeeds left behind like that, but who knows?'
After a bit of discreet looking, I'd found no security cameras on the walls or ceiling in front of me, nor could I recall seeing any in the hallway or parking lot. I decided to act.
"Inky. Stun these men."
The two grunts made noises of confusion at my words. A second later, however, a loud "Pop!" rang out before they fell silent, and I looked over my shoulder at my loyal House Elf.
"Thank you, Inky," I said.
"It is no problem, Young Master Eddy," Inky replied with a bow. As he did, he glared in disgust at the two men who'd kidnapped me where they lay on the floor, unconscious.
"Do you wish to leave this nasty place, Young Master?" Inky inquired.
"No, not yet," I replied, walking over to the desk to inspect it. I wasn't expecting to find anything important, but I wanted to know if Mr. Balding had left some clues to his or his employer's identity.
"Let's see, empty drawers… and the documents could have been printed anywhere," I mused to myself, disappointed when I found absolutely nothing. "Inky, take their wallets and put them on the desk for me. Oh, and get mine too as well, please."
He did so, and I was able to look through their contents a moment later. To my frustration, they had no ID's on them to tell me who they were. They didn't have credit cards or checkbooks, either. But they were flush with cash, each having several hundred pounds on their person.
"I'm taking these," I decided, swiping their money. It was petty, but they'd earned it for kidnapping me.
As I did, I thought a bit about what Mr. Bald had said to me earlier. It was clear they'd researched my background to an extent, so did that mean they knew about some of the other public parts of my life?
"If the kidnappers know about my relationships with the Finch-Fletchleys and Delilah, they also have to know about Harry and Sam, and their families," I muttered to myself. Hot anger at the thought of them being harassed or assaulted filled my veins, and I stomped down on it with Occlumency. I couldn't afford to lose my cool.
"Can you clean up the windows? Or at least one of them? I want to know where I am," I requested as I put a lid on my emotions.
Inky snapped his fingers, and bubbles magically foamed up all over the window panes. Then, Inky conjured some floating sponges, which attacked the blacked out glass in a wild frenzy.
The paint – at least, I assume it was paint – slowly began to fade, but not in time to really make a difference, as halfway through the cleaning, the door opened up, admitting Mr. Balding to the room.
He blinked, taken aback by the sight of his two bruisers lying unconscious in front of the desk, a tiny gremlin waving his hands like a maestro, controlling a bunch of levitating sponges, and me, rifling through his desk.
We stared at each other for a few seconds, but I recovered and reacted first, drawing a Stunner Ofuda and tossing it at the man. It zipped through the air like a red blur and slapped into his forehead, knocking him backwards. He hit the floor with a harsh "THUD!" and I winced.
"Hopefully he doesn't get a concussion," I muttered, before shaking my head. "No, what's more important is getting him to forget he saw Inky. Can't risk him remember that after he wakes up. Same with the goons, just in case."
I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. I didn't know how to make Obliviate Ofuda yet, as I couldn't find that information anywhere. It was likely in a higher-level tome I'd yet to get my hands on, or, worse, restricted knowledge by the Japanese Ministry. Over here, they only taught the spell to trained Aurors or other professionals, so I had to assume it was going to be similar in Japan.
For a dark moment, the idea that I should just kill him bubbled up in my mind. I'd done it before, after all. Last year's bloody Christmas evening in the parking garage flashed through my mind.
But that had been in the heat of the moment. Pure self-defense. I growled in disgust at myself for evening thinking of going that far for something so minor, and viciously tamped down on that idea.
Unfortunately, not choosing to kill them meant I had to call the Ministry of Magic.
With a heavy sigh I swept the papers on the desk into a pile. "Inky, set these on fire for me, and fetch some Floo powder from the apartment," I requested.
A couple of pops later, and the desk had a cozy fire on top of it, kept from spreading by Inky's magic. Then, I tossed a pinch of green powder into the flames, generously provided by Inky as well, which immediately turned a brilliant emerald color.
"Hello? Um, Ministry of Magic Auror's Department," I said aloud before sticking my head into the flames.
Floo Flames were very weird. They were lukewarm and sort of tickled when you only had a part of your body sticking through. And while it felt like you were falling when you traveled through them, there was next to no sensation for just shoving a limb through. It was like being in two places at once. Very odd.
As I poked my head out, I found myself looking out at a bunch of cubicles in what could pass for a modern office, if not for the flying bits of paper and the oddly dressed people.
My head had come out in a small, head-sized fireplace, one of several, in fact. Made sense to have a sort of emergency line to the Auror department. A few bored looking young witches and wizards sat nearby, and one looked up as I appeared.
"Hey, Tonks! You're up!" a bored witch called out to another one with bubblegum colored hair.
"Joy," she muttered, getting up before moseying over to the fire-cage I was looking out of. "Hey, hi there, thanks for contacting the Auror's Office. Names Tonks, how can I help?"
"I have a couple of muggles I need Obliviated," I said, trying not to show any surprise at the name. It didn't work, as she caught the flicker in my expression. Still, she ignored it.
"Alright, gimme a sec… oh, and please step away from the fire while the agent comes through."
I did so, and stepped back. A few seconds later, Tonks appeared on the desk, Apparating in with a crack of displaced air.
"Eesh, what happened here?" she asked as she caught sight of the three unconscious people. "And why am I on a desk?"
"I started a floo fire on the desk," I explained. "And these three saw my House Elf while he was cleaning. It was, uh, five minutes ago? Maybe ten."
"Cleaning?" she asked, confused, looking around in bewilderment. "Where are we?"
"I dunno, actually," I admitted. She gave me a weirded out look before shaking her head.
"Whatever. Give me a moment. Obliviate!" Tonks called out, zapping the trio. "Cool. There we go. When the wake up, they won't remember they saw anything to do with… a House Elf, was it?"
"Yup," I replied with a nod. "Thanks, by the way."
"No prob. This was the most exciting thing I've done all week," she said with a sigh. "Ugh. I hate that they give the crap jobs to the trainees."
"Sorry to hear that," I said. "Well, I should be going, now."
"How do you know me?" she demanded, putting a hand on my shoulder. "And what's a Pureblood doing dressed in Muggle clothes?"
"I'm a Squib," I told her flatly, and she winced. "That's why I'm wearing these clothes."
"Oh," she muttered, "Sorry."
"It's fine. My family let's me borrow the House Elf when I need it, which is why he was here, in case that was your next question."
"It was, thanks for clearing that up," Tonk said with a nod. "Still, that doesn't answer the first question."
"I know the Weasleys," I said as part of my explanation. "Charlie mentioned you a couple times."
"Oh, neat," she said, accepting it. "Heard he's doing well. Dragon Preserve in Romania, right?"
"Yeah, sounds like he's having the time of his life," I confirmed.
"Well, alright, then. I gotta get back to the department to file the Obliviate reports. See you later, maybe."
"Later," I said, waving at her. She nodded, then vanished via Apparation.
I looked over at Inky, who'd finished scrubbing the windows clean. "After I take a peek outside we're going to return to the Finch-Fletchley's," I informed him. "And please take care of the fire."
"Of course, Young Master Eddy," Inky said with a happy smile and bow. I smiled back, and then looked out the window.
"Hmm, I don't recognize any buildings… no, wait, I think I see something… Yeah, that's Greenwich Park over that way. Huh, we're not as far as I thought we'd be. Good to know."
I then turned back to Inky, having memorized the area, as well as a nearby street sign. "Okay, I'm done. Off to the Finch-Fletchley's, please. The usual drop off spot."
Inky snapped his fingers, and I went from standing in the empty office to being right around the corner from the house, right near a bus stop. I was obscured by several hedges, so nobody would see me appear from nowhere.
"I need to start working on more defensive and offensive enchanted items," I mused to myself as I walked up to the Finch-Fletchley's gate, ringing the doorbell.
"Mister Rose?!" one of the servants gasped when they answered.
"Hey, hi, just thought I'd let you all know I'm back," I said, giving a cheeky wave.
"Oh, thank goodness! Mister Warner saw you get snatched right off the streets!" the servant babbled, dragging me into the house.
I was brought into a parlor room where Mrs. Finch-Fletchley, Justin, and, to my surprise, Delilah as well, were sitting down, looking fretful.
"Mr. Rose!" Justin exclaimed gleefully when he saw me, jumping up from his seat and running over to my side. He wasn't the only one, as Delilah also bounded over to my side, grabbing my hands and looking me over closely.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" Delilah asked, checking me for injuries.
"Delilah?" I uttered, perplexed. "What are you doing here?"
"I came here as soon as I heard you'd been kidnapped!" she declared, face red in embarrassment. Or maybe anger? I couldn't tell.
"I'm fine," I assured her. "Couple of goons couldn't do anything to me."
She looked me in the eyes, and I winced at the pain I saw in hers. "Don't scare me like that," she pleaded.
"I promise I won't get kidnapped again," I told her.
"Idiot!" she scolded me, though I could hear a faint laugh in her voice.
A cough interrupted us, and I looked over at an amused Mr. Finch-Fletchley and a couple of police officers who walked in from another room.
"As heartwarming as this reunion is, and as glad as we are to see you safe and sound, we do have some questions for you, Mr. Rose," a bobby informed me.
"Of course, officer, I'll be glad to help however I can," I told him, tamping down on the annoyance I felt at being interrupted.
"First off, can you explain what happened, exactly?"
"Well, I had just finished tutoring Justin here, and was leaving to go back home, when this black car with tinted windows zoomed up right to me…" I began to explain.
The next half-hour was boring, as I carefully gave an edited retelling of what had occurred earlier. I made sure to leave out anything about magic, and simply said that I had slipped out when they were distracted.
I was pretty sure the police officers didn't believe me at all, but they couldn't call me out on it, not with the Finch-Fletchley's nearby. Eventually, they left, claiming they would look into who was responsible, but I wasn't going to hold my breath. Odds were they weren't gonna find out anything useful.
'I'll have to do my own investigations,' I thought to myself.
"So, what really happened?" Delilah asked me when the bobbies had left.
"Pretty much what I said, although I escaped by knocking out my kidnappers with Stunner Ofuda and Inky's help," I said.
"Whoa! So they really worked!" Justin exclaimed.
"They sure did. Definitely need to work on making some more. Just in case," I said.
"I will make some discreet inquiries myself," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, sipping at some tea to hide the dark scowl on his face. A kidnapping right on his doorstep? A massive insult a man like him could not let pass. "They likely won't try anything for a while, though. Still, I hope you will try and stay safe."
"I doubt they will be able to do anything while I'm in France. I'll be sure to pick up a couple magical defenses in the markets over there. They're a lot looser with restrictions when it comes to self-defense. A couple hexes to discourage ne'er do wells sounds like a wise investment," I said. I then blinked and turned to my girlfriend.
"Oh, and speaking of which, wanna come visit France with me and my friends?" I asked Delilah.
"Really? You're asking that now?" she asked, a hysterical laugh bubbling out of her.
"No time like the present. We leave in a couple days, on the 17th," I informed Delilah, who gave me a flat look.
"You know that's not what I meant," she grumbled, and I chuckled.
"Yeah, I know, sorry about that, just having fun," I replied. I then turned serious. "However… do you want to go?"
"I think that would be lovely," she replied softly. She then tilted her head to the side. "Is there going to be magic there?" she asked in a very soft whisper.
"Yeah, probably," I said, and she nodded.
"Okay. I want to learn more about magic. Will you teach me?"
"I'd be happy to teach you," I told her.
"Great," she said with a grin.
And seeing her smile, I felt that everything was going to be alright.
Chapter 36: Chapter 36: When Harry met Dobby
Chapter Text
Chapter 36: When Harry met Dobby
On a sunny Thursday morning, I walked up to Number 4 Privet Drive whistling the Harry Potter theme song under my breath. I had ridden a taxi over to the cookie cutter neighbor in order to pick up Harry, and it was currently waiting for me to get my young friend out of that hell hole.
Knocking on the door, I patiently waited for someone to answer it. There was a excited thumping on the other side, and a moment later the swung open, revealing a flush-faced Harry Potter, a large steamer trunk in one hand, and a caged owl under the other.
"Morning Harry," I greeted him, before nodding cordially at the owl. "And morning to you too, Hedwig."
Hedwig made a "Prek!" before ruffling her feathers.
"Don't worry, as soon as Harry is back at my place he can let you out. No need to stay cramped and cooped up over there," I assured the owl, who scrutinized me for a moment before deciding that I had nothing else of interest to her, and looked away.
"Need a hand?" I asked Harry, but he shook his head.
"No, thanks, I've got it," he assured me.
"Do you have everything?" I asked next, and he nodded at that.
"Yes. It's all in the trunk."
"Magic sure is useful, isn't it?" I hummed, and he made a noise of agreement. "Alright, head on over to the taxi. If you need help getting it in, just ask. I have to have a quick word with your aunt before we go."
He bobbed his head and hurried over to the idling vehicle, letting me turn my attention to his horse-faced aunt who was watching and waiting from the living room.
When it was clear I wasn't going to storm inside and do anything, she begrudgingly came over.
"Hello, Mrs. Dursley. I hope you've been doing well," I said politely. "I doubt Harry will see you again until the next year. He spent his minimum amount of time in this place, and as such, can stay with people who aren't… well, I can't exactly say what you are in polite company."
"Just take him and leave," she spat out.
"I will," I huffed. "And by the way, you have lovely roses. Very well taken care of."
"Thank you?" Petunia replied, taken aback and confused.
"I can give compliments where compliments are due," I said, turning away to head back over to the taxi, knowing full well that it was Harry's green thumb who'd kept the garden alive all these years. I wondered how they'd keep it nice and trim without him?
As I slipped into the taxi, I waved at Mrs. Figg, who was watching me go from her window with a conflicted expression on her face.
"I think you're going to enjoy yourself for the next few weeks, Harry," I said cheerfully as I buckled my seatbelt.
"I think so, too," he said happily, and we let the taxi driver fill the silence with 90's pop music.
"Now, it's not much, but for tonight, you'll be sleeping on the foldout couch," I said, directing Harry over to where he'd been sleeping.
"When do we have to leave tomorrow?" he asked as he placed his trunk and Hedwig's cage down.
"That is the fun part!" I drawled. "We get to wake up nice and early at six thirty in the morning! Our flight is at ten."
Harry winced a bit and I chuckled. "Yeah, flights can be a hassle. But! Good news, we won't have to take a taxi at least. Sam's dad will be driving us to the airport."
"That's nice of him," Harry said with a nod.
"Yup. Oh, and my friend Delilah will also be joining us," I said. "Well, technically she'll meet us in Paris later in the weekend."
"Your 'friend?'" Harry asked, a teasing expression on his face, and I pouted.
"Ugh, you and Sam, I swear…" I grumbled good naturedly. "And yes. She's a friend."
"More like 'girlfriend,'" he snickered under his breath and I rolled my eyes at his antics.
"Hilarious," I drawled. "Oh, and we're having dinner with the Grangers tonight. So wear a nice shirt or something."
"We are?" he asked, surprised. "That'll be nice. I haven't heard from anyone, yet. It will be fun to see her."
"You know, that reminds me… before I forget… INKY!" I called out, and my loyal House Elf popped in next to me.
"Sir?" he inquired.
"I almost forgot, but you said there was a House Elf watching Harry when I went to pick him up?" I asked, and Harry turned to gawk at me.
"Yes, young master Eddy. A naughty elf."
"And you caught him, I assume?"
"Like you asked, Young Master Eddy," Inky assured me.
"Great! Why don't you bring him here. I'm curious as to why he's hanging around my friend," I said, a note of steel entering my voice.
"Um, what are you talking about?" Harry asked, confused as Inky vanished from the living room.
"I was worried about you, so I sent Inky over to the Dursleys before I came to get you today," I explained. "I wanted to make sure your aunt and uncle had kept their promises. They did, surprisingly, but that wasn't what caught my attention, nor Inky's. Apparently, there was a House Elf observing you."
"Oh," Harry said slowly, not entirely understanding the magnitude of what I'd said, but clearly aware it was a big deal.
Further talk on the matter would have to be delayed, as Inky returned to the apartment with the sharp popping sound I'd grown to be familiar with.
What was unusual though was that Inky did not appear in a dignified manner, but in a rough tumble, his arms wrapped around another, equally small, figure. They tussled on the ground for a bit, squeaking at each other in a language I didn't recognize, before Inky managed to get the upper hand in the fight.
Inky may have been older and frailer than Dobby, but he was still able to overpower the other House Elf and pin him down onto the floor, letting us get a good look at him.
Dobby (for who else could it be?) was 3-feet tall and his big, watery green eyes were staring up at me and Harry in shock, which was returned in full as Harry stared back at him.
"Um, hello?" Harry said softly. "Who are you?"
"Dobby is Dobby, Mr. Harry Potter sir," Dobby said quietly as he looked up at Harry.
"Do you have to call me that?" Harry asked with a wince.
"Of course Dobby does! You are Harry Potter! You defeated the Dark Lord!" Dobby said excitedly.
"What?" Harry uttered, confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I'd like to know that as well," I said.
"Dark Lord was a bad man! A very bad man! He hurt House Elves! Used our blood for dark rituals! Now he's dead and we all dance and spit on his grave while praising Mr. Harry Potter sir!" Dobby said, his tone surprisingly vicious for a House Elf.
I clicked my tongue. "Alright, I suppose that answers that. But what were you doing over at the Dursley's house in the first place? Why were you bothering Harry?"
"Dobby wanted to protect Harry Potter sir! Dobby wanted to keep him safe!" Dobby protested.
"Safe, huh? Odd way of showing it. Lurking and watching from the shadows – or however House Elves do it – seems more like something a person who wants to hurt Harry would do."
"No! No! Never would Dobby hurt the great Harry Potter!" Dobby exclaimed. "Dobby wanted to watch over Harry Potter to protect him!"
"Is that it? Is that really all you did?" I demanded.
"Dobby also took letters from owls," Dobby admitted, looking down, ashamed.
"You did what?" Harry gasped.
"Dobby thought that if Mr. Harry Potter didn't hear from his friends, he wouldn't want to go back to Hogwarts," Dobby mumbled. "So Dobby took your letters."
"That's not how it works, I'm afraid," I snorted. "Harry would have to go back to school regardless of his friends – or lack thereof."
"Wait, hang on a second, you were messing with my mail?" Harry demanded incredulously. "Is that why I've only been able to talk with Hermione through the phone, and Ron and Neville haven't sent me anything?"
"Yes! Dobby is bad, bad elf! Dobby stole away Mr. Harry Potter sir's letters!" Dobby whimpered, trying to bash his head into the floor, only for the carpet and the position he was in to muffle the thumping.
"Why?" I asked. I then raised a hand to forestall the blubbering answer. "Yes, yes, I know, you wanted to protect him. But why? Who ordered you to do this?"
"Dobby not told to do this! Dobby wanted to help on his own!" the young House Elf claimed, and Inky shot him an incredulous look, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
To be fair, I supposed it would shock another House Elf. Or anyone who knew about House Elves. Taking the initiative to do something without being told to do it was so rare it might as well be anathema to their kind. Especially if it didn't help their bonded family at all.
"Huh. Okay, then," I muttered. "What about your owner?"
"Dobby cannot say! Dobby cannot tell!" the House Elf wailed.
"Fine. Then protect him from what, exactly?" I demanded.
"Dobby doesn't know! Dobby only knows it will happen at Hogwarts!" Dobby whimpered. "Master-who-can't-be-named would only mumble to himself about 'it has to happen at Hogwarts!'"
I blinked. 'That's new,' I thought to myself. How Dobby knew shit was going to go down at Hogwarts had never been expanded upon in the books. Not to mention, Lucius only dropped Tom's diary into Ginny's cauldron after Harry had been rescued from the Dursleys and Dobby's interference at Privet Drive.
'That means Lucius Malfoy was planning to give the Horcrux away to a student from the very beginning. Possibly since the start or summer break, or a little bit before. But why?' I couldn't help but wonder. 'Could it be related to the Dark artifact crack-downs Mr. Weasley has been conducting?'
I rubbed the bridge of my nose in exasperation. I doubted I'd find any answers, so I turned my attention back to the issue hand. Namely, Dobby.
"Okay. So, you think Harry is in danger from your master. Said master has a plan that involves Hogwarts. And you decided to go against your master to protect Harry," I summarized.
"Yes, that is what Dobby has said," the House Elf confirmed, before letting out a pained squeak as Inky's grip tightened.
"Inky ought to punish Dobby. Disobeying orders, betraying family, messing around with young wizard… those are sins for a House Elf," Inky said darkly, applying more pressure to the other House Elf's arms, causing Dobby to whimper in pain.
"Enough, Inky!" I snapped, and he looked at me with a muted expression.
"Dobby is a bad elf," Inky said slowly, as if trying to explain this to a child. "Dobby has to be punished."
"Perhaps, but you can clearly see how fragile his bond to his family is," I retorted. In truth, I couldn't tell myself, but given how easily Dobby had been able to break free from the Malfoys told me it couldn't have been strong to begin with.
Even though Lucius Malfoy gave Dobby an article of clothing, it had been hidden in a book, and clearly didn't count since the pureblood hadn't known there was a piece of clothing tucked away. As such, a normal House Elf bond wouldn't register it as being broken. Clothing had to be given willingly and knowingly with the intent to break the union between House Elf and its master. How could the House Elves be told to do laundry otherwise?
Loyalty was a two-way street, even with magical bonds, however, and the mistreatment heaped onto Dobby by the Malfoys, along with Dobby's own rebellious thoughts, had led to a bond so weak it'd been broken by a technicality. Something magic absolutely loathed.
As such, Inky couldn't help but recoil a bit when he took a closer look at Dobby and 'saw' the state he was in, physically and spiritually.
"Oh." That was all Inky could say as he looked at the younger House Elf, before releasing Dobby from his grasp. The amount that went unsaid in that single word was immense, and for a moment, I knew that Inky was seeing himself in Dobby's place. Specifically, when Inky had been forced to serve my father, and had taken quite a few blows of his own when he was deep in his cups. The night I'd killed my father had not been the only time Inky had suffered at Erroneous Hunch Senior's hands. But it had been the last. For both of us.
"Dobby, you want to help Harry Potter, do you not?" I asked the younger House Elf while Inky was distracted by his own thoughts.
"Yes! Yes! More than anything!" he whimpered, crawling over to me on his knees.
"Then trust me. I have Harry's best interests at heart. I will keep him safe, no matter what," I vowed.
"But, but the master… he will make Hogwarts unsafe!" Dobby cried.
"I know," I told him. "I know who your master is, and what he wants to do. But I have a plan to stop him."
That caused Dobby to stiffen, and stare up at me with big, hopeful eyes. "You do?"
"I do," I promised. Dobby stared at me for a long time, before solemnly bowing his head.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, looking back and forth between the House Elves and me.
"Sit down, it'll take some explaining," I said, running a hand over my face.
He did so, plopping down on the couch and looked expectantly at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dobby and Inky watching as well. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor, ears twitching as they strained themselves to listen.
"So, first off, how do I know who Dobby belongs to? Simple. Only three groups in Magical Britian have House Elves these days serving them. Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, and Purebloods. And I know Dobby belongs to the latter."
"You say 'belong' as if he's…" Harry began, only to trail off.
"Property? A slave?" I asked, and Harry nodded weakly.
"You're not wrong," I told him, to his horrified astonishment. "House Elves have been more or less enslaved for centuries by wizards. I won't go into how or why, because that's a lot to go over, but suffice to say, a House Elf needs to serve. It is a compulsive, intrinsic desire, as well as the only way to stay alive. A House Elf will wither and die without a magical family to serve, as they survive off of the magic provided by said family through the bond."
"Oh," he muttered slowly. "So, the House Elves at Hogwarts…"
"You've already met them? I should be surprised, but somehow, I'm not," I murmured, before nodding. "Yes, Hogwarts employs dozens of House Elves, keeping them sustained off of the magic of the very castle and its hundreds of inhabitants. Even without anybody living there, though, the House Elves could subsist off of the latent magic in the area for decades. Possibly centuries."
I then raised a hand to forestall any further questions. "Now, before I go off on another tangent, a key aspect of the bond is the Writ of Adornment. Give a House Elf an article of clothing, be it sock or shoe or even a wig, with the intent to sever the bond between elf and master, and the House Elf will be 'freed' from service. Though the freedom will be short lived if they cannot find a new source of magic to sustain themselves."
"Now, back to the main point, Dobby belongs to the Malfoys," I revealed, deciding to just rip that bandaid off. Dobby gasped in shock, and Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Huh… yeah, I can see it," he said, slowly piecing together a few things. Namely, why Dobby was so eager to help somebody who wasn't his master. "If Draco's dad is anything like that poncy git himself, I can't imagine having to live with and serve him."
Harry then continued to extrapolate the data. "And… because you're from a Pureblood Family yourself, you know the families that have House Elves. That's how you know who Dobby belonged to!"
"Good guess," I said, carefully avoiding confirming or denying it. I wanted to tell Harry the truth, but at the same time, some parts I wanted to keep secret. Like where my knowledge actually came from.
"Now it makes sense," Harry muttered, before tilting his head to the side. "But what's this plan of Draco's? Or, I suppose, his father? And how do you know about it?"
"Well, part of that is thanks to the Weasleys," I told him, fibbing a bit. "The Ministry has been cracking down on Dark artifacts recently, not entirely sure why, but Arthur recently got a bit of a promotion, and he's been tasked with hunting down some of said artifacts. Lucius Malfoy may have the Minister of Magic's ear, but even he can't escape a scandal if he's found in possession of certain forbidden things. So, he's hoping to get rid of them. And, from what Dobby is saying, he also plans to do something at Hogwarts. Which wouldn't be hard, seeing as he's on the School Board. Put two and two together, and we get the conclusion that he wants to fob off a nasty Dark artifact, possibly using a student as a patsy, that will cause trouble at Hogwarts."
"I see. Any idea what his plan is beyond that, exactly?" Harry inquired, and I bit my lip before replying.
"I think… it will have something to do with the Chamber of Secrets," I said slowly, deciding to reveal a little bit more.
"Another thing I have no idea about," the Boy-Who-Lived grumbled.
"To be fair, not a lot of people know about it. It's more of a myth than fact these days," I comforted him. "The Chamber of Secrets was supposedly built by Salazar Slytherin himself to protect the school, although some legends state it was built to purge the muggleborn from the castle."
"Slytherin again?" Harry grumbled, and I winced.
"Yeah… the house and its founder are… complicated," I muttered.
"How can you be sure Lucius Malfoy will do something with the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry eventually asked.
"I saw it happen in the future," I decided to say, and let Harry come to his own conclusions.
"Divination again? I'm starting to think I should take that when it's offered," Harry said.
"Eh, I'd advise against it, but you do you," I replied with a shrug. "Just be sure to write to me if something weird happens in Hogwarts. I'll send whatever help I can."
"Thanks, that means a lot," Harry said with a grateful smile. He then turned his focus over to Dobby, who wilted under his gaze. "Now, then, what do we do with him?"
"Does Harry Potter Sir wish for Dobby to iron his ears or stick his head in the oven as punishment?" Dobby inquired, and Inky, Harry, and I recoiled in revulsion.
"No! No, no, no!" Harry shouted. "Never do any of that to yourself!"
"But that is what Master M-Malfoy wishes me to do when Dobby messes up," the House Elf replied, quivering on the spot.
There was dead silence for a good minute before Harry stood up off the couch and approached Dobby. He then crouched down and gave him a tight hug, embracing the little being.
"S-sir?" he whimpered, eyes wide, and Harry just hugged harder.
"I will save you," Harry whispered, though it was loud enough for us all to hear.
I politely pretended not to see the tears streaming down either of their faces.
Eventually, they broke apart, and I spoke up.
"I think, for now, Dobby should return to the Malfoys," I said slowly. When Harry shot me an indignant look, I raised my hands in surrender. "Hey, I don't mean forever! I'm sure we can come up with a way to break the bond and free Dobby! But we can't detain the poor guy. House Elves might not be treated well by some, but if the Malfoys find out you're responsible for, uh, keeping Dobby away from them, they could sue you, and the Ministry would side with them. That sort of scrutiny isn't something either of us need."
"Do I have House Elves?" Harry asked after a moment, looking at me, and I frowned.
"I don't actually know," I admitted. "I think… House Potter would have been old and prestigious enough to afford one or two, but without consulting the goblins who manage your estate, we'll never know. I don't think you did, since a House Elf would have died before letting Voldemort so much as get near you or your parents, but who knows."
"Another thing I have to wait to find out about," Harry cursed another his breath. I patted his back sympathetically.
"Sorry about that," I said. I then frowned as I saw the clock on the wall and took note of the time. "Uh, better get ready for dinner, Harry. We don't want to be late."
"I don't want Hermione to scold me," Harry muttered, turning back to his luggage to get out some nice clothes. Which he did have, I'd made sure to buy him a couple nice shirts and pants combos that actually fit him before he went to Hogwarts.
Although, thinking about it, he'd probably need new clothes soon. He'd grown since I'd last seen him. All that Hogwarts grub had done the boy good.
'I'll have to get him some stuff while in Paris,' I decided.
Next, I glanced at Dobby and Inky. "If that's all, I think Dobby should return for now. But don't worry, I'll protect Harry. And find a way to free you."
"Thank you," Dobby said, trembling with tears in his eyes.
"Ah, jeez, don't cry, little guy," I said with a wince. Dobby bobbed his head, eyes still glistening, then vanished with a pop, leaving Inky to stare at the space he had been for a few moments.
"Inky must tend to the Mistress," he announced after a moment, and I nodded.
"Give mother my regards," I requested, and the elderly House Elf simply bowed before popping away as well.
'That went. Better than I thought it would,' I thought to myself. 'And I better not have jinxed us just now.'
Dumbledore POV:
Dumbledore was not happy. He wasn't quite angry, but he was peeved. Harry Potter had been supposed to find the trials he'd set up to guard the Philosopher's Stone. He'd set the whole series of traps for Harry, after all. The seven tests were never going to stop a skilled magic user like one of the professors, let alone Voldemort, no matter how weakened the man had become. They had always been meant to test the Boy-Who-Lived.
And those plans had been completely derailed. Not only had Harry Potter not become interested in finding the stone or stopping Voldemort, he'd been happy to let it lie, and then, when he did discover what was going on, had rushed to tell a teacher. A teacher! It was honestly impressive how un-Gryffindor-like Harry had acted in that instance.
Yes, going to get help from a teacher was the correct response for a student, but it was very frustrating for all of his plans to be ruined. Yes, things had turned out more or less alright, especially with Harry managing to show that he was, in fact, still protected against Voldemort, which was useful. But other than that, Voldemort had nearly gotten away with the stone, the mirror, and the body of a teacher!
And now here he was, listening to Missus Figg explain why she'd lost sight of Harry Potter.
"And his aunt and uncle just let him go with a stranger?" he asked incredulously. He wished Missus Figg had contacted him sooner. At least it'd only taken her an hour to work up the courage to contact him.
"Yes. They've always disliked the boy, I've told you this before, Headmaster Dumbledore. Besides, I can't really call the Hunch boy a stranger. From what I understand young Harry is close with him. I believe they met at the muggle school they attended together."
Dumbledore frowned heavily. The Hunches had been Dark Side supporters for years. They'd sided with Grindelwald, and then with Voldemort, and were believers in Blood Purity.
The unexpected death of Erroneous Hunch wasn't a blow to the Dark Side due to his lack of importance. Indeed, many poor Pureblood families had been Death Eaters, but only the rich and influential, like the Malfoys and Notts, had mattered in the grand scheme of things.
Hunch Senior's eldest son being a Squib was a sad thing, and his youngest child Rudolf was hardly impressive when it came to his schooling. As such, Dumbledore had never expected he'd have to care about the Hunch Family at all. But here he was, hearing from his agent that Harry Potter, his tool to build a brighter future for the magical world, had been in contact with Hunch Junior.
'I need to find out what Harry's been told, and how much the Hunch boy has influenced him,' Dumbledore thought to himself. 'I cannot let Harry's destiny be derailed.'
"Where does young mister Hunch live?" Dumbledore inquired.
"I do not know," Missus Figg admitted with an apologetic shake of her head. "I have met him just once, when his mother dropped him off into the muggle world, but that was at a café. He must live nearby, though. Perhaps you can find out where he is from the school records. Woolingsby is the name of the place."
"I will do so," Dumbledore said firmly. "Inform me when Harry Potter returns."
"Of course," Figg said. Dumbledore inclined his head with a grateful nod and then walked away towards the fireplace. A handful of green powder later, and he was whisked through the Floo Network back to his office.
'How long can Harry stay away from his home, anyways?' Dumbledore thought to himself with a chuckle as he sat down at his desk.
Chapter 37: Chapter 37: Welcome to Paris!
Chapter Text
Chapter 37: Welcome to Paris!
"So, this is France," Harry said, looking around curiously.
"Technically it's an airport luggage claim," I said with a chuckle. "But yes, it's in France."
I then made a grand, sweeping gesture. "Welcome to Gay Paree. Birth place of the obnoxious smoker, obnoxious fashions, obnoxious cheeses, and the baguette. The latter of which is their only real contribution and achievement."
"Maybe don't say that stuff out loud," Sam muttered to me, seeing the way various froggies were glaring at us as we walked out to find a taxi.
"What are they gonna do? Surrender to me?" I scoffed.
But still, I decided to follow Sam's advice and tone down my Britishness, at least for now. I had a head full of French jokes and they were going to be made, one way or another.
The flight had been great. Well, as great as can be on a morning flight in Economy class. But still! It worked out. Lots of fun, if not a lot of leg room.
"So? What did you guys think of your first flight?" I asked them.
"Eh, beats walking," Sam said with a shrug. "Wish the seats were more comfortable, though. And it wasn't my first flight, either."
"Oh, right, yeah, your family went to Spain a couple years ago," I muttered. "Well, how about you, Harry?"
"It was interesting, but I think I prefer broomsticks to planes when it comes to flying," Harry admitted.
"That so?" I inquired.
"Yup. I really enjoy flying. The feeling of freedom is great! And being Seeker was a lot of fun, too. I'm looking forward to it next year," Harry said excitedly.
"Seeker?" Sam asked, and Harry happily explained the rules of the ridiculous sport to him while I tried to hail a cab.
'Can't wait until smartphones and Uber kick your asses to the curb,' I thought morosely as yet another vehicle zoomed past, not even bothering to slow down as I waved my arms like an inflatable tube-man.
We did eventually flag a taxi properly, and it took us straight to our hotel. A Hilton, near the downtown, was where we'd be staying. I'd splurged, using some of my gambling money to pay for a nice room for each of us. We'd spend the two weeks in France in style!
"Do we have to declare ourselves to the French Ministry of Magic?" Sam asked as we headed into our hotel's lobby.
"Nope. You and I aren't wizards, and Delilah isn't a witch. We didn't come here via a magical method, either. Add in the fact that Harry is a minor, so as long as he doesn't use any magic, he should be fine," I replied.
"Okay," Sam said, though he clearly looked nervous.
"It'll be fine! Tomorrow, we'll go out and see some of the sites in the non-magical side, and visit the magical equivalent of Diagon Alley, which I'm told have some very interesting magical monuments." I told my two companions. "There's even supposed to be a magical section of the Louvre, which I'm interested in. I got tickets for the mundane side as well. That's for Sunday, though."
"That does sound like fun," Sam said, smiling a little at the thought.
"What are we going to do with the rest of our day?" Harry asked curiously. It was mid-afternoon, with plenty of time to spend before dinner.
"There's a few places we can tour in the area," I assured Harry. "Don't worry, I made a list."
And boy did it make me miss the ease of access to information the internet provided back in my old world. Looking up stuff to do while on vacation in the early 90's required a ridiculous amount of work, and a lot of it involved going through books, maps, and whatever other resources the local libraries might possess.
"You invited Delilah, right? When will she get here?" Sam asked curiously.
"Monday," I said. "She'll be able to meet up with us then."
"Glad to hear it. You two are cute together, the way you dance around your feelings," Sam said, smirking at me.
"Hush!" I grunted. "It's not like that!"
"Yes, it is," Harry drawled, and I reached over and messed up his hair in retaliation. Not that that was very hard, given how wild his mane of black hair was.
"You guys," I chuckled fondly. This was going to be fun. I just knew it!
Sadly, we did not manage to make it to Rue Magique, the Parisian version of Diagon Alley, on Saturday. We were too busy touring the non-magical side of the city that we never found the time.
We saw a lot, though. We climbed the Eiffel Tower early in the morning, had lunch at a café across from Notre Dame, and then of course toured the famous cathedral where the Hunchback had once lived and rung bells all the livelong day.
And no, he wasn't a real figure. He was, for once, an entirely fictional character made up by Victor-Marie Hugo. Something I was relieved to find out. I'd been half worried I'd been descended from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
After all, my birth-family in this world was called 'Hunch' and the magical side of things was both uninspired when it came to naming things and a bit too laisse-faire. I mean, who the fuck thinks it's okay to name their offspring 'Erroneous?!' So it hadn't been beyond the pale for an ancestor of my family to be that famous figure.
Thankfully, that wasn't the case, and I didn't have to be worried about the logistics of such a ridiculous origin.
Besides that, we took an evening stroll through a portion of the infamous Catacombs. It was creepy, and there were a lot of ghosts down there. I was glad Sam couldn't see them. Harry and I soon envied him. There's only so long you can stand to be shouted at in archaic French by a bunch of rotting plague victims before it becomes tedious.
Today, however, was Sunday, and that meant it was time for a trip to the Louvre! Getting the tickets had been a bit of a hassle, but well worth it. I had a feeling we'd be in there for the whole day.
"Good afternoon," an usher said in accented English as we entered the Louvre shortly after it opened. "Do you wish for any guides or pamphlets?"
"I would. Can I get one for the regular side of things, and another for the 'special' tour, as suggested by Beauxbatons?" I inquired, speaking the code words for getting into the magical side of the museum.
"Of course," the usher said with only a slight tilt of the head to acknowledge my words. "Anything else?"
"Where's the entrance to the magical exhibits?" Harry asked curiously, eyes shining as they darted around, and the usher smiled a bit at his excitement.
"There's a special door you can take at the Pavilion de l'Horloge," he said helpfully. "You can't miss it."
We thanked him, and after he gave us the two guides for the museum tours, we began our exploration.
The Louvre was massive, and I was glad we'd slated the entire day to explore it. There was a lot to see just in the mundane sections!
"Apparently, the Mona Lisa is unfinished," I muttered to myself as I read the pamphlet for the magical side of things as we observed the famous portrait. "It was supposed to be turned into a magical portrait, but a series of events resulted in there being no payment for it, leaving him with the painting in his possession."
"So, was Leonardo Da Vinci a Squib?" Harry asked curiously.
"Leonardo Da Vinci wasn't a magical or even a Squib, just plain Muggle. But back in the day, before the Statute of Secrecy, it wasn't uncommon for mundane craftsmen to work alongside magical ones. After all, someone has to make the base item for enchanted artifacts," I explained.
"Really makes you wonder how different things could have been, if we hadn't been forced to separate like this," Sam muttered.
"Agreed," I said with a nod.
The whole Statute of Secrecy thing had been a bit of an overreaction, in my opinion. What, exactly, did the Muggles of the 17th century actually do to harm the magicals?
If the wizarding community had really wanted to hide themselves they'd have done it at the start of the Spanish Inquisition. Or maybe earlier when Christianity started to get too big for it's britches.
Seriously, the magicals were so far above the rest of the world at the time that they didn't need to go into hiding. A few spells to isolate their more vulnerable communities would have worked just fine. And they were already doing that in most cases! And even if they were hunting down magicals in Europe, the continents of Asia, Africa, Australia, and the America's were pretty much doing just fine, if not better. Mages were respected on the other continents.
The magicals of the world could have made themselves indispensable to a burgeoning Industrial Revolution, but instead had decided to eff off. The equivalent of a kid on the playground complaining the other boys weren't playing nice, and then running home with the ball so nobody else could play. Sure, one of the other kids was throwing rocks, but that didn't mean the rest of the playground had to suffer!
Short-sighted selfishness. That was what it was, in the end. That, and irrational fear and paranoia.
And it had only gotten worse in the decades and centuries since.
I shook my head to dispel the morbid thoughts on wizardly stupidity, and with a bit of Occlumency to stamp it down, focused instead on the beautiful artwork on display.
"Her eyes really do follow you," Sam muttered, weaving his head back and forth.
"Weird," Harry agreed softly.
"You got to a school with ghosts and living paintings," I scoffed.
"Yeah, but that's magic. This is pure talent," Harry replied, peering at the portrait intensely.
'I wonder if Harry has found a hobby for himself,' I thought idly.
Eventually, we had to move on. Even early in the day there were still enormous crowds, and we could only spend so long at each section without being pushed or shoved.
After touring the entire mundane section of the Louvre, or as much as we'd been able to do, we stopped for lunch, and prepared to enter the magical artwork section of the museum.
"Oh! Sam, before I forget, here, you may need these," I said, pulling out a glasses case which I passed to him. Sam opened it, revealing a pair of glasses with thick horn rims. Runes had been scribbled onto the frame.
"Those should let you see through any magical barriers we come across," I told him as he put them on. "And if we come across any Muggle repelling wards, you can lay a hand on Harry's shoulder and it should be enough to get you through. If that's okay with Harry, of course."
Harry bobbed his head rapidly, confirming that yes, it was fine if Sam had to use Harry to navigate the magical side of things.
"Huh, that door wasn't there before," Sam muttered, squinting at the door that led to the magical side of things.
"What did it look like without the glasses?" I asked curiously.
"I just saw a sign that said the artwork was removed for restoration, and I felt the urge to move on and look at something else," Sam frowned. "But now I can clearly see that there's no sign. Just a door."
"Interesting," I hummed. "Can you get any closer without Harry's help?"
Sam stepped forward, and found that he didn't feel the urge to turn his attention to a different exhibit. He told this to me, which I found fascinating.
"Now, that is very curious," I mused. "Is the Muggle Repelling Ward weak enough to be broken if the Muggle actually has the ability to see through it, or is this just a different variant that doesn't have the repellent aspect, and just obscures the vision?"
"We can figure that out later!" Harry said, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me towards the door. "Come on, I want to see what else there is!"
"Okay, okay! No need to pull so hard on my sleeve," I chuckled, letting Harry lead me towards the magical exhibits.
Walking through the door was like stepping into a magical wonderland, and that was no joke. I felt like Alice after falling down the rabbit hole. Everything was just so in your face with the magic and enchantments it was surreal.
It also proved my theory that Magical Britain was boring as fudge – both the Minister and the candy – because I'd never seen anything like this in Magical Britain.
There were elegant fountains made of gold that shot rainbows into the air, and delicate castles of spun sugar that floated through the air. Statues of famous witches and wizards winked, nodded, and even chatted with passersby, animated in a similar way to the living portraits that I was more familiar with. They had those too, of course. Animals made from precious metals and stones wandered about in a petting zoo-like enclosure, and of course there were a bunch of old and famous models of broomsticks, which had Harry's immediate attention.
Sculptures that had been carved out of blocks of stone by thousands of cutting and piercing hexes stood next to artwork with magical paint that changed what was shown based on the mood of the person viewing it. Unique metal work, such as a wand made of brass and goblin silver, was on display beside the last known Celtic Druid staff in existence, which was an old, crooked stick of oak, worn smooth in places by hands and fingers.
There was also a vast collection non-magical items, such as a tea set from China that had been used by an emperor, a quill and ink pot owned by the famous artist Michelangelo, an original copy of the Gutenberg Bible, and stuffed creatures galore, from dragons to Nundus to unicorns and much more besides.
This was truly an astonishing sight that put the magical side of my homeland to shame. The old families and Ministry horded all the cool stuff, and I couldn't think of a single museum or open to the public exhibit from the magical world in the UK. One would think the London museum would have a secret magical section like the Louvre did, but no.
I was glad that we were able to see this. I know they left the good stuff out for the tourists to gawk at, but it was still nice to see examples of magical craftsmanship.
And speaking of tourists, while this place was not as crowded as the mundane side, it was still packed.
"Pardon," I said for the umpteenth time as I bumped into somebody while trying to navigate the exhibits.
"Non, it was my fault," a heavily accented voice replied in English, and I nodded absently, before pausing. The voice… it sounded familiar…
I turned to look at the person I'd just bumped into, and blinked in surprise at what I saw.
Ever since coming here, I'd not seen anybody who looked like their movie counterparts. Harry didn't look like Daniel Radcliff, and from the descriptions Harry and the Weasleys had given me, Snape did not look like Alan Rickman. Which was a shame.
But here and now, the woman I'd run into looked a whole lot like Fleur Delacour from the movie version of Harry Potter, albeit younger. Her voice, too, sounded remarkably similar.
She blinked at me, noticing my attention, and suddenly, her features seemed to wobble and she didn't look like Fleur's actress anymore!
The general shape of her face was the same, but her hair was much more golden and there was a spark of something in her eyes that wasn't entirely natural. There was also a look of… boredom? No, apathy. She was used to people staring at her.
Immediately, I realized what was happening, and clamped down on my mind, forcing Occlumency barriers to the fore. The familiarity I'd felt towards her faded, and I was able to tell that she did not look like the actress at all. It'd been an illusion!
'Veela allure!' I thought to myself. I knew that the innate charming ability of a Veela was magical in nature and made them look attractive, but I didn't know it could make a person feel like they knew somebody!
'A defense mechanism?' I wondered to myself as I regained control of my mind. 'Perhaps the allure ability makes people feel comfortable around them as well? Or maybe it's because she's is young? An unconscious sexual attraction aura would be bad to have as a child, so maybe when they're growing up, they generate a feeling of familiarity instead? It's still useful, and certainly would help keep Veela children safe…'
I trailed off, realizing I was staring at her, and winced, with a flush of embarrassment crawling onto my face.
"Apologies for staring, you look like somebody I knew once," I said, bobbing my head in her direction.
The Veela blinked at me, a flicker of surprise dancing through her eyes, before she frowned, suspicious.
"I see," she replied slowly.
"Fleur! Did he see through you?"
It was now my turn to blink in surprise, and I looked down, spotting a young girl holding onto the older Veela's hand. I hadn't noticed her earlier. But now I did.
'And did she call her 'Fleur?'' I wondered. It could have been a coincidence…
"Not now, Gabi," the teenager hissed, causing the younger blonde to pout.
'Nope, it's definitely them,' I realized. I'd just run into Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour. I think Fate might have it out for me.
"Hey, Ed, what's the hold up?" Sam asked. He and Harry had gone on ahead without me, only to circle back when they noticed I wasn't with them.
"Oh, sorry, I just ran into these two and wanted to apologize them," I explained, gesturing to the duo. I saw the way Sam and Harry both seemed to do a doubletake as the Veela's aura of familiarity washed over them.
Harry was able to recover first, his own Occlumency skills better than Sam's, despite both of them learning it at the same time. Sam took a bit longer, but I wasn't sure if it was due to his modified glasses or something else.
"Harry Potter?!" Gabrielle squealed as her eyes locked onto Harry, specifically his scar, and Harry winced a bit at that.
"Um, yes, that's me," he admitted.
"I'm Gabi!" the young Veela exclaimed, rushing over to grab Harry's arm. It was adorable to see him become flustered at the contact, and a giggle escaped Fleur.
"I keep forgetting you are supposed to be a celebrity or something," Sam said to Harry.
"Me too," I muttered. In my mind I was berating myself for that oversight. Just because we were overseas didn't mean nobody would know about Harry. Even if Voldemort had been limited to the UK, his infamy had spread across Europe, and quite a few foreigners who believed in his ideology had crossed the Chanel to join up.
It was only natural for Harry's fame to spread once word of Voldemort's defeat became known and Dumbledore spread the story that Harry had been the one to beat the Dark Lord, despite being a baby. And he was the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse. That alone would have made Harry a curiosity to the magical folk of the world.
'I need to find out how well-known Harry is before we travel anywhere else in the future,' I thought to myself. 'I wonder how many people would recognize Harry without a disguise in America?'
"You are Harry Potter?" Fleur asked incredulously, looking down at the younger boy.
"Did you really ride a dragon?!" Gabrielle asked, still clinging to him.
"I should get cards printed," Harry sighed to himself. "They'll say 'Hello, I am indeed Harry Potter. No, nothing that was written about me is true. Please don't stare at my scar, and stop asking if I've actually ridden a dragon before. Have a nice day.'"
I snorted at that. "Yeah, why not, could be funny," I said. "Could make a good Birthday present."
"What are you doing here?" Gabrielle asked.
"Vacation," Harry replied, looking a bit uncomfortable with the young Veela's proximity.
Thankfully, Fleur noticed, and helped untangle her sister from Harry's arm. "Do not be rude, Gabrielle," Fleur said, scolding her sister as she pulled her back to her side.
"But Fleur! It's Harry Potter!" the little Veela whined.
"That is no excuse," Fleur tutted, and Gabrielle pouted but eventually nodded.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled to Harry, who accepted it graciously.
"It's fine. I'm still getting used to the whole 'being famous' thing," the Boy-Who-Lived chuckled weakly.
"Really?" Gabrielle asked, tilting her head to the side cutely like a baby bird.
"I was raised in the Muggle side by my relatives. I didn't know I was magical until I was ten," Harry admitted.
"I see. It must have been quite the surprise," Fleur guessed, and Harry nodded.
"So, why are you two here? Are you also enjoying the museum?" Harry asked.
"Non, Papa is a curator here," Fleur revealed. "In fact, a number of artifacts here were donated by him."
"Really?" Sam asked, and Fleur nodded.
"When he was younger, he used to be a Curse Breaker for Gringotts," she explained.
"Zats how he met Maman!" Gabrielle said with a wide smile.
"That's quite interesting. I have a friend who's also a Curse Breaker," I said, thinking about the eldest Weasley. "Small world."
"Do you go to Beauxbatons?" Harry asked curiously. "I mean, I don't want to assume, but…"
"I do indeed go to Beauxbatons," Fleur said. "I will be a fifth year in ze coming semester."
'Huh, so she's close to my real age,' I noted. 'Makes sense, then, since she was at least seventeen during the events of the Goblet of Fire.'
"I've heard a little bit about it from Ed, but what's it really like?" Harry wondered.
"At Beauxbatons, we follow ze curriculum style zat Hogwarts pioneered," Fleur explained. "Zat is to zay, we have seven years of schooling, starting at ze age of eleven, and our courses are about ze same, though I believe we have a few more classes to be taken in third year and beyond."
"Really?" Harry asked. "No Houses? How does that work? Do you still have points?"
"Oui! We do not have ze House System, but ze professors do assign students points for good work and behavior outside of classes. We can use ze points to check out extra books from the library, leave school grounds to visit family or stores, or spend time in ze private baths."
"You can't take as many books as you want from the library?" Harry asked. Under his breath, he muttered, "Hermione would hate that!"
"Non. You may only check out a single book at a time. But you may look at them as often as you like while you are in ze library. It is to encourage students to earn points, but also to teach zem how to take notes, as well as budget time and resources."
"That's actually an interesting idea," I mused. "I don't like it myself, too limiting, but it does seem like it would force students to try harder."
"At least it is better than Durmstrang," Fleur huffed. "There, you must earn points if you wish to eat or bathe at all!"
"Yeah, I've heard that," I muttered. The darkest of the Big Three magical schools of Europe had a lot of nasty rumors floating about. It only accepted 'Purebloods,' meaning muggle and halfborn in Scandinavia and Eastern Europe had to go elsewhere for their inevitably lesser education, and there were tales about students having to literally fight each other for basic necessities like beds.
"They actually do that?" Harry gasped. At his side, Sam and Gabrielle were just as surprised.
Seeing their shocked expressions, Fleur explained. "At Durmstrang, students are only given ze most basic of commodities and facilities. Group showers and sleeping, less than pleasant food, and so on. If a student wants to have better accommodations, they must obtain and spend points. And points are earned through grades, good behavior, as well as extracurriculars. They can also be gotten through wagers. A student can bet points they own and duel another student for them. Winner takes all."
"And I thought the Hogwarts system was bad," I muttered, disgusted.
"There is a reason Durmstrang is not looked well upon by ze rest of Europe," Fleur sniffed haughtily. "And it is not just because it is as Dark as ze bottom of the sea. Its education standards are terrible!"
She shuddered in disgust at the thought, and I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Fleur recovered a moment later, plastering a smile onto her face.
"But that is sad talk! We should do something else."
"Yes! We can show Harry around ze exhibits!" Gabrielle said excitedly. "We know all ze best ones!"
"I don't want to intrude," Harry said softly.
"It's fine, we'd be happy to show you around," Fleur said. She then glanced at Sam and me. "If zat's alright with you?"
"I don't see a problem with it," Sam said and I shrugged.
"A tour guide who knows the place sounds like an excellent idea," I agreed, and Gabrielle squealed happily and then rushed over, latching back onto Harry's arm.
"This way! This way! Papa's best discoveries are over here!" Gabrielle said excitedly, leading them off onto a wild tour of the Lovre.
The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity, little Gabrielle seemingly jumping about the exhibits at random, showing off whatever her father had found in the past, but also making sure to talk about why it was important and how it related to other items in the museum.
She was actually quite good at playing tour guide, though I had a feeling that had a lot to do with the fact she was trying to show off to Harry, something her sister, Sam, and I had caught on to early.
Eventually, though, the Veela had to go home, something Fleur had to force onto her pouting sibling who refused to let go of Harry's arm.
"Do we have to go?" she complained, shooting Harry moony eyes.
"Yes, Gabi. Or do you want Maman to worry about where we've been all day?" Fleur asked, causing the littlest Veela to slump in defeat.
"Bye, Harry," she said. Gabrielle then gave him a quick peck on the cheek and ran over to her sister's side, giggling all the way.
Harry just stood there, stunned, a blush growing onto his face as he tried to process what had just happened.
"How cute," Sam teased, and it was Harry's turn to pout. Which only made Sam laugh.
"It was nice meeting you two," I said, since Harry was tongue-tied and Sam was busy laughing at him.
"It was a pleasure as well," Fleur said. "Perhaps we can meet you again before your vacation is over?"
"I don't see why not," I said. A native tour guide of the city would be helpful. "Just send Harry an owl whenever you want as well. I'm sure he'd be happy to write back."
At that, Gabrielle gasped happily and Harry shot me a look of betrayal, which I studiously ignored.
"We will," Fleur said, grinning knowingly, before leading her sister away.
"That was fun. The two of them were nice as well, very polite. And we've still got some time. What else should we look at?" I asked the reduced group.
"I want to see the dragon exhibit!" Harry requested, and I nodded.
"Alright then! Off we go!" I said as we headed towards the next area of the museum to investigate.
a few hours later, we left the Lovre, tired but extremely pleased. It was around five pm, and we'd seen maybe a third of everything the magical side of the museum had to offer, not to mention the mundane side still had plenty to explore.
"I wish we'd been able to see everything," Harry said, somewhat disappointed at having to leave.
"Hey, don't worry, Harry. We've got two weeks in France. There'll be plenty of time to revisit," I assured him, and the Boy-Who-Lived perked up at that.
"And maybe we'll run into those cute girls again," Sam teased, causing Harry to flush bright red.
"Stop it!" he whined, and I laughed along with Sam.
"Of course, we'll be good," I said, winking at Sam. Harry saw it, not that I'd tried to hide it, and he pouted all the way back to the hotel.
However, when we returned, there was a surprise visitor waiting for us in the lobby that had Harry's expression turn into a surprised but happy smile.
"Hello, Edward. Sam, Harry, how are you?" Delilah asked, smiling at the three of us from the couch she was lounging on.
"Delilah? What are you doing here? I thought you'd only get here tomorrow!" I exclaimed, surprised and happy to see her.
"I managed to get some time off early, so I came over to surprise you!" she said cheerfully, jumping up and giving me a hug. She then gave one to Sam and Harry as well, which they returned.
"That's great! What floor are you?" Sam asked.
"Oh, I don't have a room," she said.
"You don't?" I asked in confusion.
"Nope! I thought that since my boyfriend is here, he'd let me share his room." She then turned puppy dog eyes onto me.
I reeled back a bit, but quickly rallied. "Well, with a cute face like that, how can I say no?" I replied with a chuckle.
"Ugh, romance," Harry gagged.
"Don't knock it till you try it," Sam told him, ruffling his hair. He huffed at that, and with teasing grins of our own, Deliah and I also messed with his hair.
He grumbled at that as well, but I could see the tiny grin he wore.
"Let's get your luggage up to my room, then," I said, glancing at the suitcase she'd brought with her. She nodded in agreement, and leaned against me.
"My hero," she drawled, putting a hand to her forehead like a lady about to swoon, and I laughed.
I felt good. This trip was already one of the best I'd had in either world, and I had a feeling it'd only get better.
Chapter 38: Chapter 38: The Man, The Myth, The Legend
Chapter Text
Chapter 38: The Man, the Myth, The Legend
Monday morning came, and everything seemed wonderful as I woke up.
The sun was shining, the birds singing, and there was a beautiful young woman in the bed next to me.
We hadn't done anything together last night, simply cuddled and spooned. Neither of us were ready for sex. I still had a few hang-ups about my mental age compared to Delilah's, even if they were somewhat illogical, and she simply wasn't ready to go that far yet in our brand-new relationship.
Even then, it had been nice, sleeping next to somebody again. Like having a giant pillow that occasionally stole the blankets.
Smiling to myself, I carefully made sure not to wake her as I slipped out of the covers and padded towards the bathroom.
Before I'd died and ended up reborn, it'd been two years since my last relationship. Still, even almost two decades since then, I still remembered certain rules for living with a significant other.
Don't hog the bathroom, don't use up all the hot water, and for the love of God and Merlin, don't leave the toilet seat up!
'Funny how the rules all revolve around the bathroom,' I thought to myself with a snort as I got into the shower.
When I got out a few minutes later, clad in only a towel around my waist, Delilah was awake and watching me from the bed, a grin on her lips.
"Hmm, very nice," she said as she looked at me, eyes lingering on my abs. I didn't have many, but the two I did have I took care of. My body in this world also healed faster and gained weight slower as well, so it was easier to make sure I stayed fit.
"Glad you like what you see," I replied with a chuckle.
"You know, my friends have always been jealous of the fact that I rarely get blemishes, nor gain weight like they do. I take it magic is responsible?" she asked as she got up, and I nodded.
"That's right. Magic is quite impressive. A wizard can fall a few stories and bounce without a single injury. And even us Squibs find it far easier to stay in shape thanks to the traces of magic we have," I explained as I got dressed while she sauntered into the bathroom. The only overweight wizard I knew of was Slughorn, and even then, he was more portly than obese.
"So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked as she emerged from the shower a few minutes later, drying her hair.
"We had plans to go to the Arc d'Triumph and walk around it a little bit, then visit Paris' version of Diagon Alley," I said.
"That sounds like fun!" she said excitedly.
When we were both dressed, we headed to the door to go eat a quick breakfast courtesy of the hotel, but when I opened the door, I found Harry on the other side, about to knock. Sam was standing behind him, a concerned look on both of their faces.
"Is everything alright?" I asked, seeing the expressions the two wore.
"Harry got himself a visitor this morning, thought you should know," Sam said.
"Beg pardon?" Delilah asked, raising an eyebrow.
Wordlessly, Harry led us over to his room, and we all went inside. There, we all stopped and stared at what was within.
"Is that an owl?" Delilah asked, blinking in shock at the sight of the elegant bird on the window sill. I didn't recognize the species, but it was extremely well-groomed. It had black half-circle marks on the sides of its head with black and tawny brown feathers, and watched us stoically.
"So it appears," I said slowly. "Harry, did somebody send you a letter?"
But who? That was the question. I'd said Gabrielle could do so yesterday, but hadn't expected her to do it so soon.
"Um, yes, that appears to be the case," Harry said as he nervously held up a piece of parchment.
"Why do you look like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?" I asked him. "Who is it from?"
"Here," he said, handing the letter to me. I took it and began to read, my eyes widening the further I read.
'Dear Mr. Potter,' the letter began in elegant cursive. 'My wife and I would like to extend an invitation for you and your three companions to join us for dinner this evening at six pm sharp at L'Dragon Chic. I know it is short notice, but we would truly love to meet you.
Yours, Nicholas Flamel.'
Below that was an address for a restaurant on Rue Magique, followed by a string of words that wouldn't make any sense to a normal person, but that I recognized as a magical password.
"Nicholas Flamel?" Sam exclaimed in shock. "You mean the Nicholas Flamel?!"
"And his wife," I muttered, since that was important.
"They're real?" Delilah gasped. "And still alive?"
"Yes?" I said slowly. "It's somewhat well-known in the magical world. He's famous on both sides, but the wizards and witches know a bit more. Like how he's not actually dead yet."
"You forget that I've only known about magic since December," Delilah said, lightly pinching my cheek.
"Right, right, sorry," I apologized quickly.
"I forgive you," she said. "Not like you could teach me everything there is to know about magic in just a couple months. Still, some things like 'we have immortal wizards' would have been nice."
"He's an alchemist, not a wizard," I corrected.
"Is that really an important distinction?" Delilah asked, and I could tell she was genuinely curious and not just being snarky.
"Kinda, yeah. If he were a wizard, knowledge about him would have been erased along with the other famous mages and mystics during the separation enacted by the Statute of Secrecy," I explained.
"Then that means he was either a Squib or a normal person!" Harry realized.
"Yes, that would seem to be the case. Although I suppose there's always another explanation for why the mundane side remembers him when so many others were forgotten," I said with a nod.
"How'd he live so long, then? Can all magical people live for centuries?" Delilah asked.
"No. Even in the best circumstances a witch or wizard can only live to be about 200 years old. There are some exceptions, like the Flamels or Barry Winkle, but they use some sort of other method to extend their lifespan. In this case, the Flamels used the Philosopher's Stone to brew the Elixir of Life."
"Barry who?" Sam asked.
"Some wizard. His seven hundred and seventh-fifth birthday was last year," I revealed.
"How?" Delilah asked, flabbergasted.
"I don't know. Pretty sure he's never told anyone what his secret is," I replied. "But that's besides the point. What is the point is that we have an invitation to dinner from the Nicholas Flamel. We're definitely going."
I spun to Harry, nearly poking him in the face with a finger as I pointed at him. "Send a reply, if you please, Harry. That's probably why the owl is still here."
We all glanced over at the bird in question, and it nodded its head as if agreeing with me. Honestly? It probably was. That was magic for ya!
Harry hastily scribbled out a reply to the Flamels' letter, and tied it to the owl's leg. It then took off, flying away into the skies over Paris.
"Guess that changes our plans for today," Sam said, and Delilah nodded.
"Yes, we're going to have to get clothes for us to wear. I doubt any of you packed anything for an upper-class locale," she guessed, the three of us nodding.
"We can still go to Rue Magique," I suggested. "There's likely going to be plenty of stores there that will sell dress robes."
"Dress robes?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, the magical community is a bit… let's just call it both 'lazy' and 'eccentric' when it comes to fashion," I said. Harry nodded at that.
"I saw a witch wearing a stuffed vulture for a hat, once," he confirmed. "And the headmaster of my school wears plaid patterned robes."
Delilah wrinkled her nose at that, but nodded in agreement with my idea to turn our trip to the magical side of Paris into a shopping trip.
"Come on, let's eat first before we go anywhere," Sam said, reminding us that we'd yet to have breakfast.
Stomachs growling, we descended upon the hotel's breakfast buffet, and once our need for food was sated, we headed out into downtown Paris, specifically the older side of the city.
"Here we are, this should be the place," I muttered, looking up at a medieval style building.
Located in the north where Rue Saint Jaques intersected Rue des Fosses Saint-Jaques within the Latin Quarter, the oldest part of Paris, it was an, at one point in the distant past, a Roman bathhouse, built in the first century BC along with the a few other buildings on the street.
However, years passed and the bathhouse became something much more important; the entrance to the Rue Magique, the magical quarters of Paris.
The building itself, an original Roman edifice, was invisible to the mundane people milling around, and Sam needed his special glasses to see it. And even then, Harry had to hold his hand in order to help him overcome the Muggle Repelling wards that ensured nobody without magic could accidentally stumble into it.
Once past the threshold of the building, however, Sam found the wards no longer tried to push against his mind, and he was able to admire the sight in front of him.
"Whoa," the only non-magical person in their group uttered as he looked at the Roman architecture.
"I never imagined something like this still existed," Delilah muttered in awe.
"Preservation charms and good old fashioned Roman engineering," I chuckled, giving the side of the building a fond pat as I walked inside.
There were no lightbulbs or any sort of electricity within. Everything was kept lit by hovering candles that burned with gold and silver flames.
Walking across the tiled floor were many other witches and wizards going about their daily business. The different areas that had once held bathes now contained arches that led to different parts of Magical Paris. Unlike Diagon Alley – or its entrance the Leaky Cauldron – the old bathhouse had a stack of fliers near the entrance that helpfully informed tourists in seven different languages where each one led. It even included a simple map!
"Okay, we want to visit the Hot Bathes if we want to browse the higher end stores, but the Tepid Bathes are connected to the Enchanter's District, where all the nifty magical items are made and sold. So, they might have some interesting clothes to buy over there," I said, reading off the pamphlet.
"I came here to see some magic. We're going to the Enchanter's District," Delilah declared, and Sam and Harry weren't far behind in their agreement.
"Alright then. To the Tepid Bathes!" I declared, snickering a bit as I said that.
Jaws dropped as we walked through the arch that led into the Enchanter's District of Rue Magique, and even I was impressed, letting out a whistle.
It was like a fantasy bazaar had been set up around a slice of hodge-podge history scooped right out of the past. Roman style buildings stood next to baroque and gothic structures, and bright colors were on display everywhere, advertising this and that.
Magical clothiers sold wares alongside ateliers dedicated to making enchanted household goods, and exotic items from across the world were sold at stalls lining the street. A store that sold books, parchment, and quills showed off the latest self-inking tools, and somebody was advertising free broom wax with the purchase of broom repair kits by having animated brooms dance around with tubs of said wax hanging from the handles. There was even a caricature artist making magical pictures for tourists.
Hundreds of people moved about even this early in the morning, doing their shopping or chatting with friends and neighbors. The place was lively, no doubt about it.
"It's like a cartoon," Sam said. "Or a really wacky painting. Made by Salvador Dali."
"It does give off that sorta feel, doesn't it?" I agreed. "Alright, let's find a robe shop. Can't be too hard to do around here."
My words proved to be somewhat hubristic. There were indeed plenty of robe shops, but finding one that met Delilah's exacting standards was somewhat trickier.
We did eventually find one, and we purchased our formal robes. Made of fancy Acromantula silk, to boot! Expensive, especially with the added cleanliness charms, but worth it as they felt really comfy.
"I may have to buy some pajamas made from this stuff," I murmured as I ran a hand over the robe I was wearing.
"I agree, but stop caressing yourself like some sort of hedonist," Delilah scolded, slapping my wrist in an effort to stop me from feeling up the dress robes on my body.
"Perhaps I should direct my hands elsewhere, then?" I suggested in a husky tone, and she blushed bright red as my hand brushed against her back.
"Eww!" Harry complained, sticking his tongue out at us, and I laughed.
"One day, Harry. One day, you too shall appreciate girls. Or boys. I don't judge," I told him. He shook his head and ran off towards Sam, who was standing nearby and watching with amusement.
The day had gone by in a blur of shopping, and we'd spent the entire day in Paris' magical district. It was a fun experience, but now it was time for a very important dinner.
The four of us were in the foyer of the ancient bathhouse. Near the Cold Baths was a row of seven fireplaces, all connected to the French floo network. We had stopped there earlier to rest and return to the hotel – which to our surprise had a floo access point – and then used them to return.
'And now we're going to take the Hot Bath entrance to have some tasty food at a super fancy restaurant. Man, this trip has already turned out to be one to remember,' I thought as we walked into the building
L'Dragon Chic, or the Fancy Dragon, was a very expensive, up-scale restaurant. That much was obvious as we approached. A pair of golden dragons of a breed I didn't recognize flanked the entrance. Flames trickled from their nostrils and I had no doubt they were magically animated in some way, and could attack us if we tried anything stupid. The windows were frosted, revealing nothing of the interior save vague shadows of guests, and the name of the restaurant sparkled and flashed above it in the form of small and silent fireworks constantly going off.
Truth be told, all of the shops and storefronts around us had steadily become more elegant and expressive of the wealth their clientele would usually have, and save Delilah, we all felt a bit out of place.
We put up with it, though, as one way or another, we'd be forced to visit such extravagant places in the future. Harry due to his fame, and myself due to my plans for vast amounts of wealth.
As we approached the door, the two dragons turned their heads towards us. While my companions stiffened in surprise, I cleared my throat.
"We're here to dance with red ducks and sing with blue geese," I told the dragons, repeating the password from the note. The dragons' heads turned away from us, and the door swung open, revealing a hallway with a long, red velvet carpet on the other side.
"I'm sure it sounds more elegant in French," Sam assured me as we walked inside.
"Not gonna take that bet," I replied, Delilah and Harry giggling behind my back.
Inside the restaurant, there was nothing to see except a door at the end of the corridor. Knocking on the polished wood, a melodic, "Enter," called out, and we stepped into a private dining room.
There was a single round table in the center of the room, which was quite spacious and had a lot of impressive magical artwork on display. Candles floated in the air, providing light. Six chairs were placed around the table, two of which were already occupied by an old couple.
They looked good, for multi-century old folk. Aside from the pale white skin and hair along with the red eyes which made them look as if they were afflicted by albinism, they seemed as if they were only in their late fifties. Wearing fancy dress robes of their own, they could only be Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle.
"Good evening," the man of the group said in greeting. Remarkably, he had no accent whatsoever, speaking in fluent English. "We've been waiting. Please, take a seat."
"Hello. Thank you for inviting us, Mr. and Mrs. Flamel," Harry said politely, bowing his head respectfully to them, something the rest of us mimicked.
"It is no problem, dear child. We are always happy to entertain guests and meet new people," the woman replied, her voice the same as the one who'd bid us to enter earlier, and also lacking an accent of any kind.
She then clapped her hands, and dinnerware appeared in front of the seats. The plates made of beautiful white porcelain decorated with moving images of stars and clouds in the night sky, while the utensils were made of silver.
We sat down, still a bit nervous at being in their presence, something they noticed.
"Please, be at ease. Browse and order whatever you wish," Nicholas Flamel urged as several fancy menus appeared on our plates. He then raised a finger and said, "1880 White Branch Rosé, if you please."
A wineglass full of fragrant pink wine appeared on the table next to him, and he gave a short nod in thanks, taking a sniff of the drink before sipping at it. As for Perenelle Flamel, she ordered an artisanal beer from Germany.
Inspired by the sight, Sam looked through the menu at the drinks, and asked for a sparkling pineapple cider, while Delilah ordered a fizzy white wine spritzer. I just went for water, wanting a clear head this evening, which Harry also selected.
The options for food were even more extensive than the drinks list, and it took us several minutes before deciding on what we wanted.
"Do House Elves make the food here like at Hogwarts?" Harry asked curiously after saying aloud our orders.
"While House Elves do serve in the kitchen and tend to the guests, the actual food is prepared by a variety of chefs. There's a goblin who does an excellent soup, and the Veela in charge of dessert the last time we were here makes one the best Crème Brulé I've ever had," Perenelle happily explained.
"Now that we've sat down and ordered, why don't we chat?" Nicholas suggested, and I nodded.
"Sounds nice," I said, and we began to speak about this and that. It was stilted and hesitant at first, but we slowly warmed up to the couple as they engaged with us, bringing up different topics regarding everything, from mundane history to magical creations.
"...and that's when Renauld stumbled out of the Vanishing Cabinet with his pants around his ankles!" Perenelle giggled. "He was quite surprised to discover that his mistress' artifact led to a royal suite in Versailles!"
"HA!" Sam laughed loudly. "Oh, that's hilarious!"
"What's a Vanishing Cabinet?" Delilah inquired as she wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.
"They are a pair of charmed cabinets, wardrobes, or dressers that share the same space. Anything you put inside one cabinet, you can take out through the other," Nicholas explained.
"It also works with people," I added, mentally telling myself to buy a couple of them for my own use. Having what amounted to magical teleporters could only be a good thing.
'And I already know where I can get one,' I mused, thinking of the half of a pair that existed in the Borgin and Burkes pawn shop in Knockturn back home.
"You have the ability to travel unlimited distances in literal seconds by using magical closets?!" Delilah gasped.
"I actually knew the wizard who invented the Vanishing Cabinets. He wanted the ability to change his clothes and have access to his extensive wardrobe whenever and wherever he went. It didn't go exactly the way he wanted, but the outcome was still quite the achievement," Nicholas Flamel noted.
"I can't believe instantaneous travel and a kind of magical pocket space storage was invented because somebody wanted their closet to follow them around," Sam said in disbelief, Harry nodding in agreement.
"Many a magical invention and spell was created for rather hilarious and petty reasons," Perenelle admitted. "The witch who invented the Muggle Repelling Charm lived next to a very nosey and gossipy woman and simply wanted her privacy."
"And don't forget the time that Polish fellow wanted to steal his brother-in-law's favorite rocking chair and so invented Apparition to get inside his house," Nicholas added. Both of them laughed at that while we stared with wide eyes at the couple.
"Wow. Witches and wizards really do lack common sense," Delilah muttered under her breath.
"I told you," I whispered back.
Our conversation came to a brief halt as food appeared on our plates. For the hors d'oeuvre, I'd ordered dragon liver pate on thin little crackers. It was delicious!
The next courses came out one by one as we ate. For the soup it was pumpkin, flavored with a few magical spices that gave it a pleasant taste and let me breath orange smoke from my mouth between spoonfuls. Salad consisted of a Greek salad that while plain on the surface gave me a pompadour until it was finished.
My main course was no slouch either. I had no idea Dodo bird – or rather, Diriclaws, as they were known in the magical world – could taste so good roasted with garlic and topped with creamy cheese sauce!
And for dessert, there was a hefty slice of cheese cake topped with a mouthwatering golden berry sauce. It tasted great and made my breath smell nice and fresh afterwards.
"That was amazing," Harry said, leaning back in his chair slightly. His own meals had been just as magical. Who knew the Giant Squid who lived in the lake near Hogwarts was so tasty? Or at least, his kin were, if the way Harry had enjoyed the kraken calamari was any indication.
In fact, all of us had had a good meal. I knew just by looking that Delilah would never be able to look at high society mundane food the same way, and that Sam was insanely jealous of the talents of the chefs here, as well as determined to find a way to learn how they'd done it.
"Would you care to join us for a night cap back at our place?" Perenelle offered, and Harry sat up in surprise.
"Can we?" he asked excitedly, glancing over at me, and I looked at the others. Sam and Delilah both seemed interested as well, so I nodded in agreement.
"Wonderful! I do so love having guests," Perenelle said happily.
Nicholas nodded, then clapped his hands. A sheet of parchment appeared in front of him, containing the bill for the meal, and I choked as I caught a glimpse of some of the numbers on there.
'No wonder they didn't show the prices on the menu!' I thought in shock. They'd give somebody a heart attack!
The famous alchemist didn't even blink at the outrageous cost, and just pressed one of his rings against the bottom of the parchment, leaving a mark. I assumed it was like the keys Gringotts used, able to leave a magical imprint behind that identified which vaults would be used for payment.
Once he was done, the bill vanished, and Nicholas stood up, offering his wife a hand which she took, rising from her seat gracefully.
"Come along, we have a private floo we can take to return to our home," he said as he and his wife linked arms, and we nodded and rose as well.
We followed them out of the door, but to our surprise, instead of the long hallway he'd come in through, it instead now led to a cozy parlor chamber, perfect for tea or sitting around and drinking and smoking. The furnishings were as high-class as the rest of the restaurant had been, and a massive fireplace dominated the far wall.
"Don't worry about saying any passwords, simply walk on through. The floo here leads directly to our home, and nowhere else, after all," Nicholas assured us as emerald green flames sprang to life when he approached the fireplace.
"How did you manage to get a direct link to your home set up in here?" Sam asked curiously, knowing a little bit about how this method of magical transportation worked thanks to me.
"Oh, we own the place, so it was quite easy to include a 'secret entrance' when we built it," Perenelle tittered as she stepped into the greenish blaze, causing Sam to stumble at the answer.
"I see," he said.
We followed behind the elderly couple, and I chuckled as my friends experienced the effects of floo travel for the first time.
Being thrown about like you were riding a roller coaster while standing up is not very fun, and when we were all spat out of the fireplace I only laughed a little bit at the sight of them woozily staggering to their feet.
"Heh, sorry about that," I chuckled.
"You could have warned us!" Delilah huffed, slapping my shoulder.
"Probably, but this was more fun," I admitted, snickering to myself. "Now, let's see what this place…"
I trailed off as I turned to take in the Flamel's house, and stared in disbelief.
The interior of the building we'd stumbled into felt like we'd been tossed backwards into the Middle Ages. The roof was thatched, the floor made of sod, and there was only one other room, which was behind a door. A cauldron bubbled in one corner and it looked like it was being used for food rather than potions as I'd normally expected in a magical household.
And it was a magical home, there was no doubt about it. Because despite the primitive appearance it was spotless, and where there should have been drafts or evidence of poor craftsmanship, there were none. The furniture was handcrafted, same as the tools and literally everything else in the house, but they showed signs of having been repaired and preserved with magic.
"Coffee? Or perhaps some tea?" Perenelle offered, a tiny smile on her face as she looked at our dropped jaws as we took in her home.
Nicholas, however, didn't bother holding back and chortled out loud as he took in our shocked expressions.
"I honestly expected… more," I admitted, Harry nodding his head.
"We could live in a mansion, or a penthouse, or a literal castle. I actually own several of each, you know?" Nicholas said, sinking into a rocking chair that looked as old as he was. "But the simpler things in life are so much better, in my opinion."
He gestured for us to sit at the table in the center of the room, and we did so, gingerly sinking into chairs that had probably seen more history than any of us combined.
"This is our original home, you know? The one Pear and I built after we married, and before I invented the Philosopher's Stone," Nicholas revealed once we'd all sat down. Perenelle brought out an old tea kettle, its bottom lined with runes, and set down some cups that were just as plain as the rest of the house. She then poured tea into them, and took two of the cups.
"Even after all these years, and all the wealth and fame we've acquired… this is where we belong," Perenelle said, walking over to her husband, and passing him one of the cups of tea. Afterwards, she took one of his hands and squeezed it lovingly. He squeezed back, and they shared a look of true affection with each other, before turning their attention back to the four of us.
"Now, why don't we chat? What would you like to talk about?" Nicholas asked. "I'm sure you're dying to ask some question."
"Is it true you're immortal?" Sam asked.
"I am not. Nothing, not even the mighty phoenixes, are eternal. We are simply a long-lived couple," Nicholas replied.
"Then, are you a Squib?" Delilah asked.
"We both are," Perenelle confirmed.
"But then, how did you not get, you know, forgotten? How come Muggles remember your name and even the fact you made the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry wondered. It had been a question that had bothered him – and Hermione – for a while, now. Ever since they'd learned about the legendary man and his fame in both worlds, in fact.
"The ritual used to enact the Statute of Secrecy only affected magical folk and their creations, history, and mentions in books. As Squibs, my wife and I were overlooked. Something that the ICW didn't realize for close to a century afterwards. By then it was too late," Nicholas revealed, snorting in amused disgust at the incompetence of the magical version of the UN.
"Ha! I knew it," I uttered, feeling vindicated one of my hypotheses about that had been proven right.
"I can't believe I'm sitting and talking with the man who made the Philosopher's Stone!" Delilah squealed excitedly, her happiness bursting out and I grinned at her childish delight. Despite how she tried to act, I'd come to learn she was an avid lover of fantasy, just as I and Sam were, and she'd even joined us for a few games of Dungeons and Dragons. She so rarely showed off this side of her that it was refreshing to see.
"Ah, yes. The stone. I created it centuries ago, and it remains to this day my crowning achievement," Nicholas said softly, thinking back on long gone days.
Harry began to fidget nervously, and I began to suspect why that was. Given the topic, it was kinda obvious.
"I'm really sorry about your stone, sir," he said softly. He'd told Sam, Delilah, and myself what'd happened at Hogwarts earlier in the day while shopping, and my friends had been appropriately disturbed by what they'd heard.
Though I was proud of Harry for both sticking it to Dumbledore by not investigating the 3rd Floor Corridor, but also going to a teacher. That he'd run into Voldemort even after all that was just plain bad luck.
I hoped. I really wasn't looking forward to this being some sort of self-correction timeline bullshit.
"It is fine. My wife and I have long ago made our peace with what it means to give up its power," Nicholas said, giving Harry a reassuring smile. "You are not to blame for its loss, young Harry. That fault lies with the one who foolishly thought he could try and steal it. The Philosopher's Stone is far beyond anyone's reach, now."
"Err, about that," the Boy-Who-Lived muttered. He then took out a small, glossy red stone that fit neatly into the palm of his hand from a pocket on his dress robes, and held it out to the ancient couple.
"I think this is yours, sir, ma'am," Harry said without an ounce of hesitation.
Both Flamels, as well as Sam, Delilah, and I, stared at Harry for a few seconds, utterly flabbergasted.
"You… how… what?" I managed to sputter out after a moment. Even with my meta-knowledge, this still blindsided me. I'd have thought the stone had remained in the mirror, given the way the encounter with Voldemort and Quirrel had gone.
"I completely forget that I had this," Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I first saw it in a mirror that Quirrelmort was carrying, and then I found it in my pocket afterwards. It was weird, but I've had weird stuff happen to me at Hogwarts, so I just… forgot about it. I'm sorry it took me so long to return it."
"That mirror was the Mirror of Erised… it shows you your heart's greatest desire, but it is also an ancient and cursed vault of treasure. Only somebody who knows of what lies within, but doesn't desire what the mirror hides, can acquire something from its depths," Nicholas Flamel revealed, taking the stone from Harry in awe and examining it closely.
He then immediately handed it back, Harry blinking in surprise. He wasn't alone. My friends and I all stared in astonishment at what had just happened.
"I cannot take it. It is yours. You've earned it," Nicholas said softly, his wife nodding in agreement.
"Anyone who knows what the stone is, but would do nothing with it, is truly somebody worthy of being it's guardian," Perenelle said fondly, giving Harry a motherly smile.
Harry nodded bashfully, still not used to being praised (Something I was damn well going to make sure he got over by heaping all the praise he deserved onto him!) and tucked the most valuable piece of alchemy back into a pocket.
"Now, I don't mean to ruin the mood or be rude or intrusive with a question of my own, but if I may ask, how long have you lot been incorrectly using Occlumency?" Nicholas asked, and I tensed up.
What did he just say?!
Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Mind over Matter
Chapter Text
Chapter 39: Mind over Matter
I stared at the Flamel's nervously, while at my side Harry fidgeted in his seat. Sam and Delilah shot me concerned looks but I was unable to pay them much attention at the moment.
"I don't know what you mean," I said slowly, keeping my attention squarely on the elderly couple.
"Peace," Perenelle said as she shot her husband a disappointed look. He shrank under the chastisement, looking embarrassed and apologetic.
"My dear Nicky did not phrase that properly," she continued. "We are not masters of Occlumency ourselves, but we do know it, and how to recognize when it is being used by others. Specifically, when it is being used… improperly, shall we say."
"I did learn Occlumency, and I did teach it to the others," I admitted after a moment.
"I see," Perenelle muttered, and both she and her husband looked at Harry and I closely.
"The two of you… have killed, haven't you?" Nicholas Flamel inquired softly, and Harry and I both tensed up.
Sam and Delilah knew what I'd done in the past to save the latter from kidnappers, and we knew about Harry having to destroy the possessed body of Quirrel, but how could the Flamels possibly know of either?!
"Mm. As I expected, you are using Occlumency to deal with it. Pushing the guilt and other emotional responses down, perhaps unconsciously," the legendary alchemist mused. He then shook his head.
"Occlumency is a useful tool, but the both of you have been abusing it," he scolded us. "The other two here should also stop using it as well until they've learned the proper method."
"What?" the exclamation had slipped out of me without meaning it to, and the ancient man tutted softly.
"Occlumency is not meant to be maintained for days at a time. Especially not when you are so young," Flamel explained. "Furthermore, suppressing your emotions to this extent is not healthy! They are natural, and vital to maintaining a stable mentality."
"Is it really that bad?" Harry asked weakly, and the legendary alchemist tutted.
"Overuse of Occlumency can result in dangerous mental conditions developing, such as sociopathy and psychopathy. Thankfully, you two are still salvageable, though you, Mr. Rose, are very near the tipping point," Nicholas Flamel revealed, and I gulped nervously. "While you are here in France, all four of you are forbidden from using Occlumency! And even when you leave, I request that you do not use Occlumency for more than an hour every day going forward! And only use it to remember things, not to suppress your emotions!"
"What about protecting ourselves from Legilimancy?" I asked hesitantly, and he shot me a sharp look.
"Why do you-? Ah. I see. You have concerns towards the conduct of my old student, Albus."
"Yes. I am worried about Dumbledore reading my mind," I admitted, and got a weary sigh and shake of his head at that.
"Then you are going about it all wrong. To use Occlumency to protect your mind against mental intrusions requires a vastly different set of skills to the ones you are current using to suppress emotions and sort your memories. I will teach you these, but only the theory. As I said, you will not use Occlumency at all while staying in France."
"I- okay, I understand," I said, accepting Nicholas Flamel's request, though not liking it. And I was a bit annoyed to hear I'd been doing Occlumency wrong this whole time!
'Though it does explain some things, looking back on them,' I mused to myself. How quickly I jumped to extreme actions when it came to dealing with others, like the Vice-Principal of Woolingsby, the lack of care over the deaths of the kidnappers in the parking complex, the single-minded drive to get my potions business up and running… it was all starting to make sense in hindsight.
I'd been suppressing my emotions even without Occlumency for years due to my family's treatment of me, and using my version of Occlumency only made it worse. I'd been bottling everything up, letting it fester instead of dealing with it properly. That had then bled into all my other actions, and I could see where I'd been far too confrontational or cold-hearted at times, when I could have diffused the situations differently.
If I'd been thinking straight, I would never have acted so quickly against the old vice-principal of Woolingsby. I should have let him hoist himself with his own petard, letting him do stupid stuff while building a proper case against him. Same with my upfront, in-your-face confrontation of the Dursleys. They could have called the cops on me, and been in the right!
And I could have handled Delilah's kidnapping so much smoother. I should have just had Inky pop her away to safety, and that would have been that! But being shot by a man right as he was stealing away an innocent and unwilling woman had filled me with anger and a desire for revenge, and had led to me destroying a parking structure in a shootout with criminals!
I shuddered, terrified at the realizations I was only now coming to, and glad that I'd narrowly avoided becoming a monster by having the issue pointed out before I went too far off the deep end. Losing my emotions and ability to connect with people and turning into a sociopath or psychopath was a chilling nightmare.
Without any further hesitation, I dropped my Occlumency barriers, and immediately felt the differences I'd ignored or never truly noticed. Everything felt clearer. Sharper. The things I'd kept bottled up surged through me and I let out a gasp of pain as it all flooded through me.
Hate, anger, shame, self-loathing, misery, and depression from my early days with the Hunches assaulted me all in one single, overwhelming wave, and though I tried hard not to, I began to cry.
Besides me, Harry curled up, sobs escaping him as he also let go of his Occlumency defenses. His experience had to be just as bad as my own, and I wrapped him up in a hug, even as I desperately wanted one of my own.
Sam and Delilah had less extreme reactions, having had much less time practicing the mind arts compared to myself and Harry, but they still winced and hissed a bit as they released their own Occlumency barriers.
"The tea will help," Perenelle said softly, serving us some more of the hot drink.
It must have had some Calming Potion laced with it because it did indeed help calm our unsettled emotions, and soon our sniffles and sobs came to an end.
"That was… I had no idea I was suppressing so many things," Sam muttered to himself in a bit of a daze.
'All four of us are real messed up, huh?' I thought to myself with a bitter snort. Each one of us had things we were trying desperately to forget. How ironic it was that trying to ignore them was what had brought us to the brink like this.
"I know this is for the best, but I'm going to miss being able to just ignore the discomfort from the monthly monster," Delilah grunted in a bit of displeasure once we had all calmed down.
"Why don't you have your boyfriend brew you a Moon Potion? Or learn to do it yourself if you wish?" Perenelle suggested.
"A what-potion?" Delilah inquired.
"A Moon Potion. Or maybe they call it something different in England these days? It's a potion that eliminates the pain a woman goes through during her time of the month and reduces the amount expelled, so to speak. It's completely safe and can be combined with other potions and medications," the long-lived woman replied, and Delilah shot me a glare.
"Why didn't you tell me there was a potion to stop cramps?!" Delilah demanded, grabbing and shaking me by the collar in frustration.
"Wh-what a-are you t-talking about?" I asked, my voice coming out weird as I was rattled around.
"There's a potion witches can take to completely remove the pains of our monthlies!" Delilah explained, letting go of my shirt.
"Oh," I said awkwardly. "I, uh, actually didn't know that."
"Men!" Delilah growled, throwing her hands into the air in a huff. She then pointed a finger into my face. "When we get back, you are going to find a way to make this potion, and we're going to sell it."
"Okay, yeah, I can do that," I said slowly. "Sorry, the idea that there might be a potion for that biological issue never even crossed my mind."
"Did you really think witches would go around living their lives with that sort of pain if they couldn't help it?" Perenelle asked with a raised eyebrow, Delilah nodding in agreement.
"There's no safe answer to that, so I'm just going to shut up, now," I said, and Nicholas snorted.
"Smart. It seems you've learned the first rule when it comes to living with a woman," he chortled, earning a smack on the shoulder from his wife.
"Don't worry, dear, I'll pass along my own personal recipe for you to use," she told me. "It uses fairly common plants, so even a Squib like ourselves can acquire the ingredients and brew it."
"That's good to know," I said with a nod.
"Was there anything else you folks wanted to ask about?" Perenelle inquired.
"I do have a few more questions," Sam admitted, and Harry nodded eagerly in agreement.
We then chatted with the couple some more, asking about the various things they'd seen and experienced through the years. Learning they'd helped the French Resistance during World War Two had been a surprise, but on thinking about it, made perfect sense. And then there was the time they'd gone to see the launch of the Apollo 11 in Florida, or when they'd walked through the halls of the Forbidden City in China as guests of one of the Ming emperors after traveling the Silk Road.
Eventually, though, the hour grew late, and Harry was starting to yawn heavily in between questions.
"Seems like it might be time for bed," Sam muttered, voice tired.
"Agreed," Delilah said.
"Very well. You four will return tomorrow morning so we may go over the proper method to use when performing Occlumency," Perenelle said in a tone that brooked no dissent.
We all nodded back automatically in response. We were being given an opportunity to learn at the feet of two of the most knowledgeable people in the world. How could we say no?
"You guys go on ahead, I have a couple more questions for Mr. and Mrs. Flamel," I said as the others got up from their seats. "Shouldn't take too long. Just some scheduling stuff."
"Alright. Try not to talk their ears off," Delilah said, before hiding a yawn of her own behind her hand.
"Let me get the floo for you," Perenelle offered, tapping a rune on the fireplace which caused the flames to turn emerald green.
They called out the name of their hotel, and were whisked off. Once they left, Perenelle returned to her husband's side, sitting down to face me.
"Well, your friends are gone. There are no more ears that might eavesdrop or overhear," Nicholas noted. "Now, what did you really want to talk about?"
"What sort of price did you pay?" I asked the legendary alchemist, and there was a faint twitch of his lips at that. His wife continued to smile serenely, but there was a hardness in her gaze that hadn't been there before.
"What do you mean?" he asked, clearly playing dumb.
"Nothing in life is free. It stands to reason that extending your life beyond what is naturally possible should have come with a rather hefty price," I replied, folding my arms across my chest.
He stared at me for a long time. Eventually, after scrutinizing me to his satisfaction, he let out a snort of amusement.
"You are one of the few people who has ever asked me that," Nicholas Flamel revealed. Perenelle nodded in agreement. His smile then turned dark. "Let me show you what six centuries of extended life has cost me and my wife."
He held out his left arm, and took up a knife from the table in his right. He then, without hesitation, sliced his wrist open. I flinched back, expecting a spray of blood, yet what poured from the ancient man's arm was not a liquid, but instead a fine, crimson powder.
"After a few decades of using the Elixir of Life to extend our lives past the norm, blood turns to ash as it leaves the body. So too does sperm, meaning I am incapable of producing life," Nicholas idly revealed, as if it was no big deal. "My beloved was incapable of having children even before we took the Elixir, but even if she'd had the means of reproduction at the time, she too would have lost the ability to have children, just as I did."
Nicholas twirled the knife in his hand, before putting it back down. "Pain means little, as the physical sensations have dulled over time. Food began to taste less and less delicious by the third century of extended life, and by now, even the most sumptuous feasts are like sand on our tongues. Scents have faded, too, and only sight and hearing have remained as clear as they were beforehand. And while wounds do not bleed, they also do not heal themselves naturally, so you must use magic or some other method to stop them from leaking, or to repair the damage."
He demonstrated this by waving his right hand over the wound, and his wedding ring glowed as he did so. The light from it caused the gash in his limb to seal itself in seconds, leaving behind no trace of damage.
"If you seek to use the Elixir of Life, you best make sure you love your hairdo and the way you trimmed your nails beforehand, because those will never grow again," Perenelle added. "And you no doubt see how pale we are, same with the red eyes. Another side effect of our method of longevity."
"We do not age, and thus, we do not change. And without Occlumency to sort and store our thoughts, our memories and mental faculties would be just as bad," Nicholas admitted. "Worse, perhaps, is a sense of apathy that had invaded us. For the last few decades we have found it hard to care about… anything. In time, I fear we would become little more than living statues, just repeating the motions of day-to-day activity without any meaning behind them."
"That… those are quite hefty prices to pay," I admit, not having expected such drawbacks to the Elixir of Life.
"Perhaps the greatest cost though is loneliness," Nicholas admitted, a tired sigh leaving him. "Had we had children, I have no doubt that their loss would have crushed us. And I do not doubt for a second that I wouldn't have been able to endure half as long without my beloved Pear by my side."
"A long life is meaningless if spent alone," Perenelle said, leaning in to her husband's shoulder when he used the pet name for her.
"Even so, we have spent long enough among the living. We've grown weary of seeing friends die and the world change while we do neither. That is why, when we gave Albus the stone, it was already worthless in our eyes. We had been planning on departing this world for many years beforehand. We just couldn't decide on 'when.' In a way, my old student's request was the perfect excuse to let go," Nicholas revealed, and I gawked a bit.
"Hang on, then was the Philosopher's Stone in the mirror real and not a fake?" I asked in disbelief.
"It was the real thing, simply inert. It had just enough magical charge to make one last dose of Elixir or approximately ten kilograms of gold, but no more. That magical energy would be enough to fool anyone into believing it could do more, but in truth we used the last of its power beforehand," the alchemist revealed.
"That does not change the fact that we meant every word we said to young Harry," Perenelle assured me. "To have the stone in his grasp, yet not have any desire at all to use it? Even we could not do that, and we were the ones to willingly give up on it."
"He is a strong young man. He will do great things in the future," Nicholas declared solemnly, though there was a twinkle of fondness in his eyes at the thought of the Boy-Who-Lived.
"I see… are you not worried somebody else might try and find a way to copy it? Make a new stone?" I asked hesitantly.
"Somebody like you?" Nicholas asked, and I chuckled, unsurprised he'd seen through me.
"Yes. I won't deny that the desire to do so is very strong," I admitted.
"Then you'd best start improving your skills in Alchemy," the legendary man stated, not at all concerned by my ambition.
"I will," I promised.
"Hmm. Tell me, young Edward. The Philosopher's Stone is lauded as the greatest achievement in Alchemy, but do you know why?" Nicholas asked, and I frowned.
"It can create the Elixir of Life and turn ordinary metals into gold, correct?" I replied.
"Indeed. But did you know that creating the Elixir of Life as well as the transmutation of gold are both possible without the stone?" the old man asked, and I blinked in surprise.
"The Elixir of Life has many names, and in fact there are many variants, though the one I created using the stone was first invented by Asclepius, and is known as the Cure of Death, a potion that mimics the potent healing power of phoenixes, while also extending the life of the imbiber. The recipe for creating it is ancient and scant few know of it today. It also requires phoenix tears as a main ingredient," Nicholas explained. "And gold? It can be done using the art of Transmutation. In fact, the closer the base material is on the Periodic Table of Elements, the easier it is."
"The Philosopher's Stone is so incredible because it is a catalyst to allow one to perform Transmutation, Enchantments, and other spells without needing to know the first thing about them," Nicholas continued, a wide grin on his face as he explained and watched my wide-eyed expression. "The stone itself is an impressive bit of Alchemy, but it is my greatest work for a different reason than most believe."
"You cannot Transfigure lead into gold, but you can Transmute one into the other. And there are a dozen ways to enhance your lifespan using the complex healing arts, though without an Enchantment to anchor them to oneself, they are temporary stopgaps at best. The Philosopher's Stone on the other hand lets a person do these advanced forms of magic as easily as performing a First-Year spell, to use the parlance of the modern day," Nicholas explained. "How? Quite simple, actually. The stone has two functions; storing spells, and storing magic. That's it."
"Then, that means the Philosopher's Stone is more of a battery than anything else! Or perhaps closer to a crystalline grimoire that can store specific spell formula! Like a magical computer and printer!" I exclaimed, instantly understanding what he was talking about. "You somehow 'inscribe' the stone with a spell or two, perhaps through a ritual, and then channel magic into it, which is stored until needed. Then, you can cast the spells whenever you want!"
"Yes! Exactly!" Nicholas said excitedly. "The Philosopher's Stone can create the Elixir of Life and transmute gold because those are the magical processes I embedded into the stone itself during its creation! A sample of the Elixir of Life was imbued into the stone, and it uses the massive amount of stored magical energy to Transmute raw materials into a perfect copy of said sample. I only had to brew the Elixir once, and never again! Same deal for making gold via a Transmutation spell. I imbued it into the stone alongside the sample of Elixir, and have never wanted for wealth since. The stone is merely a medium that stores both information and power, in the end. Just like a book, or for a more modern comparison, a computer program!"
"And you can simply cast the 'spells' stored in the stone over and over again, until it runs out of magical power!" I realized. "And since you claim you only brewed the Elixir of Life once, that means materials that are created by the Philosopher's Stone can be copied as well, with no apparent degradation!"
"Precisely!" Nicholas laughed. "I accidentally created the first Philosopher's Stone when I was attempting to create a method to allow Squibs like myself and Perenelle to use magic. Having a magical tool with a pre-stored spell, like a wand that can cast a limited number of magical effects or a multi-use Talisman, was always my ultimate goal. I succeeded, somewhat. I created a crystalline substance that could 'absorb' a small number of spells, rituals, magical substances, or magical instructions into it, as well absorb magical energy to cast said stored spells at a later date. Once the stockpile of magical power is used up, the stone will crumble to dust, so you have to make a new one every so often, and then 'program' and charge it all over again."
"I see, I see, that's ingenious!" I murmured in praise. "Does the size of the stone matter for the number of spells it can store, as well as the amount of magical energy it can hold?"
"Yes. That amount is set at the stone's creation. A stone the size of one I gave Albus could hold a single spell of NEWT level or greater, and enough magical energy to make half a dozen doses of Elixir of Life or transmute three hundred kilograms of base matter like lead or iron into gold," Nicholas replied, pleased by my curiosity.
"Hmm… does the stone have to be red?" I asked after a moment, going off on a bit of a tangent. "Or is the color a result of the spell imbued into it? Perhaps it is related to the Rubedo stage of Alchemy?"
"The color of the stone relates to its purity. The darker the better. A perfect one will always be red," Nicholas stated. "I am unsure why it is, but perhaps it does have to do with the Rubedo stage itself. Though no other alchemical substances turn red out of the blue."
"That implies I could create 'impure' or lesser version to hold weaker spells. And is it possible to recharge the stone? Or put a new spell into it after creation?" I wondered.
"I never figured either of those things out, but I believe it is possible. I do know that creating the stone draws magical energy from the surroundings, so unless you do so near a Leyline or other potent source of magical power, the stone will be rather weak."
"What about other sources for power?" I asked. "I've been thinking about experimenting on a way to come up with a method to turn electricity into magical energy, and vice-versa. Could I potentially create a stone using non-traditional forms of energy?"
"Hmm, now that is an idea," Nicholas mused. "I know of a way to draw power out of a volcano to keep it from erupting, and it does so by turning the build-up of pressure and heat into raw magical energy, but the ritual simply diffuses it into the air instead of collecting it."
"That sounds amazing! I would love to see your notes on that," I said eagerly.
I went back and forth with Nicholas Flamel all night, discussing magic like the pair of fevered inventors we were. Even Perenelle joined in as well, as she was just as brilliant as her husband, though her focus lay more in the arts of healing and herbology than the runes, arithmancy, potions and of course Alchemy her husband focused on.
I learned a ton from both of them, and regretted that we couldn't continue on longer. But as soon as dawn began to creep in through the windows, Perenelle shuffled us off to bed to catch a little bit of rest.
As I staggered back into the hotel room, I snuggled up next to Delilah, a smile on my face. I could only hope that the next few days would be just as wonderful as this one had been.
Chapter 40: Chapter 40: Learning the Mysteries of Magic
Chapter Text
Chapter 40: Learning the Mysteries of Magic
When the morning rolled around – far too early for my taste – Delilah was up and raring to go at the crack of dawn. She was excited, and why wouldn't she be? She was going to be learning from legendary teachers, after all.
'Still, I wish she'd be a touch less exuberant about it,' I griped to myself as I poured myself a third cup of coffee from the hotel's breakfast buffet.
I hadn't been able to stay in bed, not with Delilah excitedly bouncing around the hotel room.
"This is your own fault, you know," Delilah scolded me, though there was a teasing note in her voice and she was watching me guzzle my caffeinated drink with a smirk.
"I know, but how could I resist the chance to talk shop with the Nicholas Flamel?" I replied with a shrug.
That was another reason I wasn't too miffed about Delilah's peppy mood. I'd been the same last night, and it was my undoing in the end. Couldn't really throw stones when I was in my own glass house.
A few minutes later, Harry and Sam came down to join us, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
"You two are up early," Sam greeted us.
"Some of us were more excited than others," I drawled.
"I know how that feels. I'm not sure how I fell asleep last night after dinner," Sam laughed.
"Me too," Harry said, bobbing his head in agreement.
Everyone ate breakfast, and then we headed off to the Flamels' home. They'd given me the password for their private floo when I'd eventually left, and we hopped into the green flames and were whisked off.
"Ah, right on time," Nicholas Flamel greeted us. He was sitting in a rocking chair facing the fireplace as we came tumbling out of it.
"I don't like floo travel," Harry griped. "Give me a broom any day!"
"You'll get used to it," the legendary alchemist told us.
"Really?" Sam asked hopefully.
Nicholas Flamel just smirked, and I shook my head. "He's lying, it never gets any easier," I warned my friends, crushing their spirits.
The old man just cackled a bit, before standing up and walking over to the dining table we'd drank tea at last night.
"Well, come on then, park your pants in a chair, and we'll get started," he announced.
"Today, we will be focusing on Occlumency. Namely, correcting what you've been doing wrong, and explaining a bit about the nature of this unique mental discipline," Nicholas Flamel stated as we hastily sat down at the table. "First off, who here can tell me what Occlumency is?"
Harry raised his hand, and the husband of the Flamel duo snorted in amusement at that but nodded at the boy and motioned for him to speak.
"It's the art of protecting and organizing the mind," Harry said.
"Correct. A simple, but concise answer," Nicholas agreed. "However, Occlumency is not merely one form or style, but in fact a broad term to describe any mental discipline that does what young Harry says. There are many different variations of the technique with their own names and histories in the world, and many different types of meditation, but they all share the same goal."
"Then what is Legilimancy?" Delilah asked.
The ancient alchemist put a hand on his chin. "In layman's terms, it is Occlumency's opposite. It is the art of projecting your consciousness and delving into another person's mind. However, it is not perfect, and it requires constant eye contact to work, and it can only read surface thoughts and emotions with any reliability. There are ways to draw more information forth from a target, but in general, it's hardly the most impressive magic out there. Still, it is a magical ability that doesn't need a wand, and can be learned rather than having to be born with it, thus the art has immense value. A duelist could use Legilimancy to read their opponent's next move, or an Auror could pluck vital details about an investigation from a criminal's mind. The only drawback is it does require a tremendous amount of practice to use properly. And I have heard of natural born Legilimancers going insane from over stimulus."
He let us digest that information before continuing on with his lecture.
"As for how it works… have you ever heard the saying 'the eyes are the windows to the soul?'" Nicholas asked. "That is a phrase that best describes Legilimancy. You will come to find that, as you delve deeper into the mysteries of magic, that sometimes, myths and superstitions have more power and influence on magic than some realize or give credit to. But as fascinating as that particular topic is, that is not what we're discussing today. Right now, we're learning how to properly structure the mind with Occlumency."
"Occlumency is not a matter of building up walls in your mind, nor is it for crudely squashing down emotions so they do not affect you, it is organizing your thoughts. A well-ordered mind is truly powerful, for it can allow you to recall with perfect clarity distant memories, boost the speed at which you can think, and of course, help you navigate through emotional turmoil so you can come to grips with it," Nicholas stated.
"So that's how Occlumency is supposed to defend against Legilimancy. I think I get it, now! You're not blocking someone's entry into your mind, you are redirecting them away from the memories you don't want them to see," I realized. That made sense, actually. Didn't Snape do that himself whenever he had to have a meeting with Voldemort in the books?
"You catch on quick," the alchemist praised, and I felt a bit of pride swell up in my chest. "You can block Legilimancy with enough skill in Occlumency, even throwing them out of your mind entirely, but such advanced applications are far beyond you at this point, and require decades of study and practice."
"Mr. Flamel, when I was learning about Occlumency, there was mention of something called a Mind Palace," I brought up after a moment of thought, recalling something from my own studies years ago. "What is that?"
"A Mind Palace is the ultimate expression of Occlumency. It is a mental construct you have created in your mind that acts as a literal inner world of sorts. A person who has made a Mind Palace can literally project themselves inside their own mind and do all sorts of things. From reliving memories as if they'd just happened, to conducting experiments in the privacy of your own mind, unburdened by physical constraints or limitations. I have heard it compared to lucid dreaming while awake. However, the creation of a full Mind Palace is not easy, and even myself and Perenelle only managed to do so after three hundred years of practice," Nicholas explained, a note of warning in his tone as he finished.
"Oh," I muttered, disappointed by that revelation.
"Do not be sad, however, as the lesser forms of Occlumency are more than sufficient for protection of mind and memories. Now, from what source did you learn Occlumency?" Nicholas inquired.
"I read it in Greyworth's Guide to the Mind," I said. "I taught the methods within to Harry, Sam, and Delilah."
"Hmm. Greyworth's method isn't the worst, but his version of Occlumency is primarily a meditation aide and for sorting and recalling memories. It is not the best for emotional suppression or protecting the mind," Nicholas replied. "Learning defensive Occlumency is also difficult in the first place as it requires some form of mental attack to deflect as part of the training. It is very much an active defensive measure and has to be used as soon as you feel your mind come under assault."
"Does that mean you could shake off something like the Imperius if you have a strong enough mind and enough warning?" I asked, earning a shake of the head.
"There is a reason the Imperius Curse is reviled and illegal in every magical polity across the world," Nicholas stated grimly. "It targets not the mind, but the soul itself, just as the other two Unforgivables do. It is what makes them 'Unforgivable,' after all. There is next to no defense against a direct assault on your soul."
Harry gingerly reached up to his scar, causing the alchemist to give him a sorrowful smile. "The only known ways to resist the Unforgivable Curses is through sacrifice. Pure, unburdened, and freely given. No life debts or compulsions can force such a protection to occur."
"If that's the case, then why haven't there been other survivors of the Killing Curse?" Sam asked softly. "Surely there have been other people who sacrificed their lives for other loved ones?"
"Of course there were. Love is powerful and transcends all cultures. But if the Killing Curse fails once, why would the attacker not try and strike again after the first failed attempt? Or use a different spell? And in the heat of battle, some people might just assume the curse missed them."
Nicholas sighed, looking tired. "The only reason Young Harry is lauded as the sole survivor is because Voldemort was struck by a rebounding of his own curse which destroyed his body. And that is not normal. It must have been due to something else, something his parents set up beforehand. Whatever ancient ritual they might have conducted to protect their son combined with the act of sacrifice and resulted in a magical effect never seen before. Or at least, never recorded."
He then coughed delicately. "But perhaps we should return to our lesson on Occlumency, instead of such depressing subjects."
We all nodded in agreement, and the ancient alchemist gave a small smile. "Wonderful. We shall first go over the development of the proper mindset necessary for a true emotion-blocking Occlumency…"
Over the next few days, Occlumency was not the only thing we learned. The Flamels happily taught us so much more. Magical cooking and potioneering, runecrafting and arithmancy, and most interestingly, magical theory.
"Magic exists. We know this, because we can both see the effects it has on the world, and measure it when it does so. It is a form of energy, not unlike UV rays from the sun or heat generated from our bodies. But what is it, exactly? Where does it come from? Well, that's a bit trickier." Nicholas Flamel paced back and forth in front of the four of us as we sat in their home, lecturing us on the nature of magic itself.
"There are two kinds of magic. Ambient, and radiant," Nicholas explained, and the three of us listened intently.
"Ambient magic refers to the magical energy present in the world around us. It is in the air, and suffuses all matter, from water to minerals to plants and animals. Everything is touched by ambient magic," Nicholas stated. "Radiant magic, on the other hand, refers to the magical energy generated by all living beings. Every bug and blade of grass has some magic in it that is solely its own, but it is miniscule. As for humans, we also possess it. But wizards, witches, and other magical creatures have it in abundance."
Flamel tapped his chest. "Now, there are many different interpretations for where radiant magic comes from. Some call it the soul. Others names for it are 'magic core,' 'Chakras,' 'Tenketsu,' and so on. But there is no perfect way to describe radiant magic, as it simply 'is.' There are no cores or pathways within the body that can be observed. We simply know magic exists within us."
He continued, "Radiant magic is like a fingerprint. It is unique, and differs from source to source. The radiant magic of a dragon is vastly different to the radiant magic of a newt. Hence why potions and more advanced topics like Enchanting and Alchemy rely heavily on the properties of the materials being used to produce an effect, and can have wildly different outcomes depending on what is used."
"Ambient magic however is neutral, and takes on the qualities of the matter it interacts with. This is why certain minerals can have magical properties even though only living things create radiant magic. They've absorbed ambient magic," the famous alchemist explained. "Some people claim that ambient magic originates from the planet itself. They point to the existence of Leylines and Nexus Points as proof of this. And it is true, there are places where ambient magic gathers and seemingly spontaneously generates from. However, in my research I have come to the conclusion that this is not the case. Rather, ambient magic is radiant magic that has been diffused."
"Like the water cycle? Or the air cycle?" Harry asked, raising his hand some half-remembered science lectures from Woolingsby surfacing in his mind, and Nicholas clapped his hands happily.
"Yes, exactly! Magic is closer to the air cycle than anything else! Just as humans take in oxygen but expel carbon dioxide, which is then processed by plants into more oxygen that is absorbed by living creatures, a living being passively emits tiny amounts of radiant magic all the time, and magical beings release more when performing spells. So where does the magic go when the spell ends?"
"It becomes ambient magic!" Sam exclaimed excitedly.
"Precisely! The shaped radiant magic of a spell unravels and diffuses into ambient magic once its effect is completed, which may eventually be absorbed and used by something else, like a ward or rune system, but it will also fade a bit, decaying further into what I've dubbed 'aether particles.' Aether particles then clump together in places of low magical activity and will recombine into ambient magic or be reabsorbed by living creatures and become radiant magic. These sites where it happens are known as Leylines, Nexus Points, and so on," Nicholas explained.
"Then does that make magic a closed system? Meaning there can only ever be a certain amount of people with magical abilities? Or would more people with magical ability mean more radiant magic, and thus more ambient magic, and so on?" I inquired curiously.
"Excellent question, my boy! The answer is, 'I don't know.' From my initial observations, magic seems to be a closed system, yet there are discrepancies that lead me to believe otherwise. As mundane science has proven, matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed, but magic is seemingly able to circumvent this absolute rule at times," he replied. "There is evidence that living things are producing some amounts of radiant energy that does not originate from absorbed ambient energy, but again, we don't know for sure. Perhaps the soul itself is the source of radiant magic? Further testing is required."
Nicholas Flamel rubbed his chin. "At the moment, I would lean towards the 'more radiant magic means more ambient magic' hypothesis due to a couple recent studies on magical populations of plants and animals myself and others have made where there is more ambient magic when there are more things capable of producing radiant magic. Take Hogwarts for instance. If not for the presence of that school and the radiant magic of its students and faculty, I highly doubt the lesser and mundane flora and fauna of the Forbidden Forest would be able to sustain things like centaurs, merfolk, and a damn kraken! And there is much evidence to show that when the population ratio between Muggles and Magicals was less severe, and the overall human population of Earth was lower, ambient magic was far less abundant than it is now. More study would be needed one way or the other, in the end, to prove it, but that is what is known at the moment."
"Fascinating!" I breathed out in awe, and Harry, Sam, and Delilah were nodding their heads along with me in agreement.
We did not just spend our time in France cooped up indoors. Perenelle would take us on tours of the magical wildlands that were preserved and scattered throughout the countryside, teaching us about plants and animals, both magical and mundane.
We were also allowed to go out and do our own exploring, and thanks to the Flamel's connections, we could have gone practically anywhere we wanted.
Yet our two weeks were sadly going to an end. The memories and knowledge crammed into our heads would last forever. The day after tomorrow we'd be flying back to London.
So, at the moment, we were taking the afternoon off at Rue Magique to search for gifts and souvenirs to bring back home. We'd already grabbed a few mundane items like t-shirts, snow globes, and other knick-knacks from normal Paris, and were now looking at the shops the magical side.
"What do you think, Ed? Would the grease repellent soap work better as a souvenir for my mom, or would an impervious frying pan be nicer?"
"I'm buying some of that grease repellent to make my own version of it. Dish washing will be so much easier with magical soap," I told him. "And those are both gifts that you would like, buddy."
"Well, yes, but mom would appreciate them too!" Sam protested. "Can't get anything too blatantly magical, either, even if she would love an apron that has recipes appear on it as you cook and points out when you make a mistake."
"Hmm. Why not grab it all? And what about your dad and sister? What are you getting for them?" I asked.
"Dad's easy. He's getting one of those always cool pillows. And for sis, it's a toss-up between a journal with tear resistant pages or a locket that always appears in your pocket if you lose it."
"I have one of those magical pillows. He'll definitely like it," I said. "And Kate will like either of those. Get 'em both. Future Birthday or Christmas gifts."
"Eh, why not?" Sam agreed. "What about you, what are you getting?"
"I'm getting a bronze self-stirring cauldron," I declared. "Mother will love it! It's the latest version, and her old one is getting a bit stir-crazy."
"Boo, terrible pun," Sam said. I just laughed.
"Anyways, I've got a couple things of other ideas. The Weasley Twins will like some of the joke items I'm getting, and Ron and Ginny will enjoy the candy," I continued. "And Harry will be getting a new broom care kit. But don't tell him! It's gonna be a surprise for his birthday!"
"Gotcha. And speaking of Harry," Sam said slowly, looking over my shoulder towards where the boy in question was browsing one of the stalls with Delilah. "He'll be safe at your home, won't he?"
"For now," I nodded. "The Dursleys don't know where I live, and they don't care enough to find out. I am worried about Dumbledore showing up, but I'll deal with it if it happens."
"Well, keep me appraised on anything that happens, alright?" Sam requested. "And if either of you need help, I'm a phone call away."
"I know," I said, smiling at Sam. "You know, I don't say it often enough, but you're a good friend."
"Ah, stop, you're making me blush!" Sam chuckled sheepishly.
"You know, next year is going to be a real change," I commented after a bit. "You with your cooking school, me with my business and college… but no matter what, we'll stick together."
"Damn straight! You can't get rid of me that easily!" he declared. Something caught his eye nearby, and he smirked. "And speaking of getting staying in contact, look over there!"
I blinked, confused by his words, and turned to look in the direction he was pointing. I then snorted in amusement as I spotted a familiar pair of Veela walking down the street, one of which had broken into a run at the sight of Harry and was aiming straight for him.
"Harry!" Gabrielle Delacour exclaimed happily as she lunged at him, clinging onto his arm.
"Gabi! What are you doing?!" Fleur shrieked, scandalized at her younger sister's actions.
"Sis! Look! It's Harry!" Gabi said.
Harry's eyes went wide, while Delilah was trying to keep from laughing in disbelief at the scene.
"I'm so sorry!" Fleur apologized as Sam and I walked over.
"Good afternoon, Fleur. Are you out shopping with your sister?" I asked politely. "Oh, and let me introduce you to my girlfriend, Delilah."
"A pleasure," the older Veela said, giving a polite bob of her head towards the Delilah, who offered her hand to shake.
"Indeed. It seems you already know the boys," Delilah replied, and Fleur nodded.
"We met at the Louvre," she explained. "It seems that my little sister has still not learned how to act in public, though."
"Ah, it's fine, she's young and I'm sure Harry doesn't mind," Delilah laughed. The Boy-Who-Lived shot her a betrayed look, which went ignored.
As Delilah and Fleur chatted, Harry discreetly tried to shake Gabrielle off of his arm, but she just clung tighter. It was adorable, although I had a feeling Harry didn't appreciate the humor of it as much as the rest of us did.
"So, what are you doing today? Shopping?" Gabi asked curiously.
"For souvenirs, yes," Harry said, resigning himself to his fate.
"Well, there is quite the selection here," Gabi said. "Maybe I could show you around?"
Harry shrugged and the young Veela happily dragged him off to the stores, the others watching in fond amusement.
"I must say, this place is lovely. And so much to choose from! I feel spoiled for choices," Delilah said, turning back to the older Veela.
"Yes, there's nothing quite like the magical bazaar to find a gift or two," Fleur agreed. "Would like me to show you around? I know where some of the best deals are!"
"Sounds good. Boys, do we have anything else to do today?" Delilah asked us.
"I don't think we have anything else planned for the day, although Mrs. Flamel might want us to come over for dinner," Sam said, and I nodded. We didn't have anything scheduled, so we were free to hang out with the sisters.
"Beg pardon, but did you mention Mrs. Flamel?" Fleur asked, eyes wide.
"Yes," Sam said.
"Oh, my!" she gasped. "How did you get an invitation to dine with the Flamels?!"
"That is a long story," I sighed. "Let me tell you about it while you show us around."
And so I regaled Fleur with an edited version of what had gone down at Hogwarts, and then told her about how the ancient couple had discovered we were in France, and then invited us over. I left out Harry returning the Philosopher's Stone to the Flamels, not wanting the boy to be targeted by anyone wanting to steal it from him in case word slipped about the whole thing. Still, what I did reveal was enough to have her jaw drop in disbelief and amazement.
"That is… Mon Dieu, a child should not have had to experience such a horrible thing!" Fleur muttered when I'd finished.
"Yes, I agree with you, I'm not happy at all it happened," I grunted. "But thankfully Harry is safe and in good health."
"Yes, that is indeed a good thing," Fleur said, before biting her lip. "But, what you said…"
"It's true. Voldemort is… can't really call him alive, but he's active. And he's lurking in the shadows," I said.
"I must tell maman and papa about this," Fleur muttered to herself, and I nodded in agreement with her idea. A few people knowing the truth wouldn't matter much, but setting the groundwork for future allies was never a bad thing.
"Hey, this is a depressing topic!" Sam announced out of the blue. "Let's talk about something else!"
"Like what?" Fleur asked.
"Like, uh, do you have any advice on where to buy some souvenirs that work in either world?" Sam asked, thinking up something off the top of his head.
"I might," Fleur giggled.
We grabbed Harry and Gabrielle, the latter pouting at having to share the boy's attention, while the latter was just relieved to be freed from being the sole focus of the prepubescent girl.
Gabrielle did perk up when she was told her and her sister were going to be acting as tour guides for our little group, and the two Veela did a remarkable job of explaining the history of Paris' magical quarter while also showing us where to get some more excellent goodies.
We had to be careful, though. Our wallets were already rather light after our earlier shopping spree.
As we were talking in front of a candy store that Gabrielle had led us to, I sensed some people approaching us. I could tell by the way the crowd had shifted a bit, allowing a small group of people to get near.
"And who are these people, mon petit Fleur?" a sensual voice called out from behind us, and we turned to find a couple walking arm in arm down the street who'd approached us.
The man was an older gentleman with a slight paunch and a head of brown hair. He had a thin goatee and eyes that glinted in amusement as he looked at the two young Veela, but also contained a sharp look to them as he appraised the rest of. Especially Harry, whom Gabi was clinging to. Despite his out of shape physique, there was muscle tone in his arms, proof of strength and training that was very odd to find amongst magical folk.
The woman was very clearly a Veela, what with her silvery blond hair and impossibly blue eyes. The unearthly beauty was also a giveaway. I had to quickly break eye contact with her and look to the side as I felt her Allure wash over me. Training with the Flamels had taught me how to resist mental affects, even omni-directional ones such as a Veela's aura, without relying on Occlumency. A lot of it just boiled down to willpower, thinking of something else, and not looking directly at the source.
She was giving us searching looks as well, clearly trying to see if Fleur and Gabrielle were alright and with us willingly, although she hid it better than her companion did.
As for Fleur, she was blushing bright red as she faced the two, clearly embarrassed by the pet name. "Maman! I am not a little girl any more!"
"You will always be our little flower," the man who had to be her father chuckled. She let out a tiny whine of embarrassment at that, but shook it off and turned to us.
"These are our parents, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour," Fleur said, before looking back to them. "Maman, papa, these are Harry Potter, Edward Rose, Sam Parson, and Delilah Hunt. They are visiting here from London."
"Harry Potter?" Mrs. Delacour said, raising an eyebrow at the boy her youngest child had latched onto. Her eyes darted to his forehead, same as her husband, and the Boy-Who-Lived stifled a sigh at that.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you," he said instead, politely offering his hand to shake.
The older Delacours shared a flush of embarrassment of their own at blatantly staring at a celebrity before recovering and shaking Harry's hand, then ours.
"You've come to visit Paris for summer break, yes?" Mrs. Delacour guessed, her Allure having been restrained now that she knew we weren't harassing her daughters. "How have you found it?"
"I like it," Harry said with a genuine grin. "It's very colorful and lively. Compared to here, Diagon Alley is kinda boring. And small."
All four of the Delacours nodded at that, pleased at the praise for their home.
"And how long will you be staying?" the older Veela inquired.
"I'm afraid we're only here for a few more days," I informed her. "But we have seen quite a bit."
"I loved the Louvre!" Harry said excitedly. "It was amazing! We didn't manage to see everything the first time, so we went back twice more, just to look at it all!"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Mr. Delacour said proudly.
"Oh, right! Gabrielle did mention some of the stuff in there was yours," Harry recalled.
"I was a Cursebreaker," Mr. Delacour said, pleased as punch at being recognized by Harry for his contributions. "Worked for Gringotts for a bit, then went freelance. I ended up working with the Louvre more often than not, delivering ancient artifacts to their halls for all to see and enjoy. Now I curate the museum itself."
He squeezed her wife's arm fondly. "That's how I met my lovely darling, in fact. She worked for Gringotts as one of their accountants who oversaw fieldwork and tomb raiding expeditions. Still does, in fact, though she's out in the field less often these days."
"It's much too messy outside in the jungle or desert or wherever the goblins like to dig," Mrs. Delacour sniffed haughtily, though she wore a playful smirk as she did so. "I let the new hires handle the dirty work."
'Huh, seems like history repeats itself,' I thought to myself. That sounded an awful lot like how Bill met Fleur in the original timeline. A Cursebreaker and a clerk meeting at Gringotts and falling in love. How sweet!
"I have a friend who works for Gringotts as a Cursebreaker," I brought up. "He rather likes the job from what I've heard."
"That so? Always good to have new blood!" Mr. Delacour chuckled.
"You are in your First Year at Hogwarts, are you not?" Mrs. Delacour inquired of Harry.
"Going on Second in September," Harry confirmed.
"How lovely! Beauxbatons starts around the same time. My dear Fleur will be entering her Fourth Year. And Gabrielle will be attending her First Year this coming school year," Mrs. Delacour said proudly.
"Oh! I have a friend whose sister will also be a First Year," Harry said.
At that, Gabrielle scowled at the thought of another girl getting close to Harry, which did not go unnoticed by the rest of us. I found it rather amusing, and wondered if Ginny was going to have some competition.
"I'm afraid none of the rest of us attend, or have attended, any magical schools," I told them. At their confused looks, Sam raised a hand.
"Regular guy, here," Sam said with a proud smirk.
"Squibs," Delilah added, putting her arm around mine.
To their credit, the Delacours did not show any looks of disgust or pity, which was the norm back in Magical England upon hearing us reveal that. They seemed surprised, but that quickly faded into acceptance. My opinion of them immediately rose at that.
We chatted some more in the street, and had lunch with the Delacours in one of the cafes. Fleur and Gabrielle even told their parents about the Flamels' interest in us, which as expected had the two very intrigued. But eventually it became late in the afternoon, and we sadly had to say our goodbyes.
"It's been a pleasure meeting you all," Sam said as we prepared to depart and head back to the hotel to drop off our newly bought items before returning to the Flamel's for an evening meal and lesson.
"If you ever feel like it, send us an owl," I offered. "Both Harry and myself would be glad to write back."
"It would be a good way to practice your English. And your handwriting," Mrs. Delacour mused in amusement as she looked at her daughters.
"My English is fine!" Fleur retorted.
"I agree, it's quite good," Delilah confirmed.
Mrs. Delacour just shrugged, but I could see she liked the idea. And from the calculating gleam in Gabrielle's eyes, she was going to be sending Harry a lot of letter in the future.
"That was fun," I declared once we were back in the hotel.
"It was," Harry agreed.
"I'll bet it was," Sam said with a grin. Even Delilah was smiling at him.
He shot us a suspicious glare, knowing that we would be teasing him about Gabrielle for many days to come, before sagging in defeat.
"Whatever," he muttered, trying to pretend he didn't care. He couldn't quite pull off sulking, it just made him look like he was pouting, which was very adorable.
'What I wouldn't give for a camera,' I thought to myself. 'Actually, that's an idea… I don't think Harry has any photographs of himself. I highly doubt the Dursleys would have taken any.'
I'd seen a photo booth at the airport when we'd arrived, and a couple here and there in the streets of mundane Paris. I decided then and there we'd visit one at some point to immortalize some memories before flying back to London.
For now, though, it was time to relax for a bit before one final dinner with the Flamels.
Chapter 41: Chapter 41: A Promise for the Future
Chapter Text
Chapter 41: A Promise for the Future
"I'm full," I groaned, leaning back in my chair. I probably shouldn't have had all that cheese, or that third serving of desert. But it was too good!
"I've never eaten snails before," Sam admitted. "And I never thought they'd taste this good. You're a master of cooking, Mrs. Flamel!"
"Agreed, you put five-star restaurants to shame!" Delilah praised, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
"Why, thank you, dearies. You both certainly know how to flatter an old woman," Perenelle chuckled.
"Everything was delicious," I praised, Harry bobbing his head in agreement. The meal had been amazing. There'd been an amazing cheese platter to start with, followed by ratatouille made with vegetables from Perenelle's own garden, and some escargot, also hand raised by the woman. For the main course there'd been a whole cooked sea bass on a bed of asparagus, and filet mignon that practically melted in the mouth. Complimented with thirty-year old champagne from the actual region of Champagne, along with a pudding made from dragon eggs and unicorn milk.
The Flamels had cooked everything from scratch, showing off the talents they'd gained after centuries of practice. And they'd certainly impressed us. It was definitely a great way to end our trip.
"Anyone care for a nightcap? Or perhaps something to calm your stomachs?" Perenelle offered.
"Sounds lovely," I said, accepting the cup of tea she handed out.
The rest of the group also accepted. We were British, after all. How could we possibly refuse free tea?
"So, I've been meaning to ask, but are there other immortals?" I asked curiously as we relaxed with some nice herbal tea, the post dinner bliss fading a bit.
"A few. Every so often, somebody stumbles into a method to extend their life," Nicholas admitted. "Though most do not last more than a century or two beyond their natural lifespan."
"What? Why not?" Sam asked, perplexed.
"The human mind is not meant to withstand centuries worth of information," Perenelle replied, sipping at her drink. "Unless you have a way to deal with memories, such as advanced Occlumency skills, then the mind breaks down. Or you end up distracted at a critical moment when your brain reminds you of something from decades ago."
"Poor, dumb Lawrence," Nicholas sighed. "He lived to the age of four-hundred and ninety-six, but died in a potion accident when the smell of the flowers he was chopping up reminded him of his wedding centuries prior. He didn't add the ingredients in time, and the potion exploded, melting him alive."
"Ew," Harry winced.
"You'd think more witches and wizards would learn Occlumency, in that case," Delilah said. I nodded. Even if you weren't aiming to be immortal, having near-perfect memory recall was far too valuable a skill to simply ignore.
"Yes, one would assume," Perenelle said with a shake of her head, despairing at the idiocy of the magical world.
"I still think they should teach it in schools. Or at least have it as an elective!" Nicholas grumbled.
"I'm definitely going to suggest it to my friends," Harry claimed, and the elderly couple nodded in agreement, pleased by his idea.
"Hmph! Good! Anyways, back to your question… I think there are twenty-nine people who've managed to extend their life beyond what is normal," Nicholas said, scratching his chin. "Not counting Pear and myself."
"Actually, it's only twenty-three, now," Perenelle said softly.
"Oh, that's right. Fucking Grindelwald, Nazis, and Communist bastards," Nicholas growled. I swallowed nervously. How furious must the alchemist be if he was able to display that much emotion despite the deadening of his senses due to his own immortality?
"Does that mean there are goblin or Veela immortals?" Delilah inquired, deciding to steer things onto safer ground.
"Certainly," Nicholas nodded, calming down a bit. "One of the best goblin artificers found a way to extend his life. And there's a centaur who's been around since the days of ancient Greece."
"So, there's no Illuminati-style secret society of immortals ruling the world from the shadows?" Sam asked, relief evident in his voice.
"HAH!" Nicholas laughed dismissively. "You can barely get regular people to work together for a common goal without there being some in-fighting. You think people who can live for centuries and remember grudges just as long would be able to work together for more than a few weeks? Even magic has its limits!"
"A few have tried," Perenelle tittered in amusement. "But they all fail. The longest one such alliance of immortals lasted was thirteen years. The shortest was two hours. Which, incidentally, was the Illuminati. Or a group who'd taken that name for themselves, at any rate."
"That's good to know," I muttered. One less thing to worry about, I supposed.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, we'll work together at times, and even be cordial with each other, but immortals are just people who've lived a long time, at the end of the day. And some people rub others the wrong way. It is inevitable," Nicholas stated.
"Not gonna tell us who they are?" Sam inquired.
"Etiquette among immortals is not to reveal the identities of other immortals to anyone," Perenelle replied simply, and that was the end of that.
We talked about other topics, happy to discuss a few more things before they left. There was a lot we still wanted to know, and we planned on getting our money's worth.
But after a bit, I noticed that Nicholas was observing me, a contemplative look on his face.
"Edward, might I speak with you for a bit? In private?" Nicholas Flamel asked in a low voice, and I nodded slowly after glancing at the others. They were distracted by Perenelle telling them a story about the time she and Nicholas had fought the Nazis with the French Resistance during World War Two. It sounded really interesting, but the elderly alchemist seemed to have something important to talk about.
Seeing me agree, he stood up from his seat, grunting a bit from the exertion, and I wondered how much longer he had to live without the Elixir to sustain him.
Quietly, we left the house, stepping outside the small hut that had weather the past few centuries remarkably well.
"Ah, so beautiful," he murmured, staring up at the stars. "Did you know I once tried to find a way to get up there, to space? Didn't work. Wrecked a lot of brooms and flying carpets trying. And when I heard about the Space Race, it took all of Perenelle's efforts to convince me not to run off to NASA to join as an astronaut."
"I bet it would be amazing," I agreed, and I silently decided that would be one of my goals for the future as well. A trip to space seemed like the perfect way to prove I'd made it big.
For a few more minutes we continued to admire the night sky, chatting absently about astronomy, astrology, and how the moon affect magic.
But eventually, I grew antsy, waiting for the shoe to drop and the much older man to tell me why we were out here.
"Why did you want to talk to me?" I asked curiously, even as I stared up at the stars with the legendary alchemist by my side.
"What do you want to be in the future?" he asked me out of the blue.
"Obscenely rich, hopefully," I joked, but he shook his head.
"Not what I meant," Nicholas sighed. "Do you have any ambitions of leadership?"
"I don't think I'm the right person to try and tell people what to do," I admitted after a moment to think it over. "Well, I mean, not as a politician or whatever. I'm happy just running a business, making money, and not being an evil corporate scumbag… nothing too outrageous."
"And what about fighting evil? Wouldn't you desire to help people?" he asked. At that, I snorted.
"I'm not some superhero from the American comics," I scoffed. "I'll fight for what's right, and I'll do what is right, but I won't go out of my way to find criminals to beat up. Besides, 'evil' can't be solved that way. Not even if I tried to use magic on it. It's part of human nature."
"There will always be evil," Nicholas Flamel agreed. "But you should not despair. For where there is evil, so too will there be good that arises to counter it. From the dark, comes the light."
"Evil is eternal, but so is good," I muttered thoughtfully.
"Indeed," the alchemist confirmed. "Good and evil both spring from the actions of people. And as such, it is up to people themselves to decide what is wrong, what is right, and what to do about it."
For a few minutes we just stood there, quietly contemplating the intricacies of life and morality. Then, a look crossed his face, and out of the corner of my eye, I could tell he'd made up his mind about something.
The famous man reached into a pocket that stretched and was deeper than it probably should have been, and took out an old and worn journal. It was bound in plain brown leather, with no markings on it, and I could feel the weight of history just by looking at the pages of yellowed parchment.
"I want you to have this," Nicholas said.
"What is this?" I asked, taking the tome from him.
"This contains everything I know," Nicholas revealed, and I stared at him, then down at the plain looking book.
"Everything?" I whispered.
"Everything. Every recipe, every theory, every interesting fact, even every secret I've accumulated over the years. All contained within," Nicholas confirmed. "Perhaps most importantly, however, is… well, open it up to the last page, if you would."
I did as he instructed, and flipped to the end of the book. I found some diagrams that confused me, but after a moment of study I realized it was a ritual. And a massive one at that!
"Seven magical rituals, tied together to form a singular 'super' ritual," I uttered in disbelief. "And this is… elements of Transmutation… numerous Enchantments… and is that Divination I see?"
"You are correct. Those three disciplines are integral to the ritual I have spent the last two hundred years designing," he revealed.
"This is… is this genetic code?" I asked, peering closer at part of the ritual. It was! I recognized the symbols from my biology classes, both in this life and the last!
"Good eye. Most would assume it is some kind of coded Arthimancy," Nicholas praised.
"Genetic code on… no, that's impossible!" I gasped in shock, looking up at the legendary alchemist. "You figured out what part of the human genome creates Squibs?!"
Because that was what it looked like! His notes were in Latin, but I knew enough of it and genetic biology to understand what he was talking about. Despite being the last page of the notebook, more kept appearing as I read on, and I realized that this journal had been enchanted with the Many Pages spell.
"I did. Only very recently, though. And I relied heavily on Muggle sciences for it. But through a combination of disciplines, magical and mundane, I found what it is that causes a person to be born a Squib." He looked down at the page I was reading with a conflicted expression. "Just a few strands of molecules, too tiny to be seen, in the right – or wrong – place, and it results in people like you and I straddling a line. Never fully in one world or the other."
I continued to read, flipping through the pages carefully. "You found out what makes a person a Squib… and you extrapolated from there to discover the genetic code for witches and wizards," I said slowly, feeling numb.
"Yes. Look here, how the DNA sequence… well, you can see for yourself," he chuckled. "A single misplaced strand of protein… truly remarkable!"
"Do you think… is it possible to use magic to alter the DNA?" I asked, feeling something akin to hope sputter to life within me.
"That is what the ritual you saw earlier is for," Nicholas replied. "Sadly, it doesn't work as you might think. While it does alter a Squib's DNA to match that of a magical person's, the issue is that unless the Squib is an infant when they undergo the ritual, they will still not be capable of magic via a wand. There is a spiritual component to magic, one that cannot be simply gained in the middle of one's life. I do not know what the age cut-off is, exactly, but you and I are too old to benefit from the ritual, save perhaps for a minor increase in radiant magic that would make it easier to brew potions or sustain a House Elf."
"Oh. I see," I muttered, feeling my fledgling hope get crushed. It hurt. Even after so many years of accepting my status, it still hurt to lose that chance at magic I was denied at birth. He sent me a sympathetic look. Still, the fact he had found any of this at all was astounding!
"Wait, there's something else here," I muttered to myself as I glanced back down at his journal. This time I found the actual end of the notes. And I stared at what had been written down.
"Impossible…" I murmured, eyes locked onto the page.
"Nothing is impossible. Merely improbable," Nicholas chided, though it was done fondly and with a hint of amusement. I merely looked up at him in disbelief.
"This changes… it could change everything!" I hissed out. "This says here that if a completely normal person were to undergo the Squib-to-Magical Ritual, they would become a Squib themselves!"
"The ritual would add the necessary genetic markers for being a wizard to a Muggle, but they wouldn't be active," Nicholas explained. "Genetically, they would be a witch or wizard, but would lack the spiritual component to perform active spells with a wand. Effectively, they would be Squibs, able to only harness or benefit from magic passively in the manner of potions, runes, and so on."
"And this other ritual here… it would… God and Merlin, it would mean… it would mean everyone in the world could have magic!"
"Yes. Exactly," Nicholas said, turning solemn. "Magic is dying, Edward. Bit by bit, the magic fades. And it is not because of some scarcity of magic as if it were akin to the Muggle's fossil fuels, but due to our own isolation. We are too limited in number to expand. All we can do is huddle together as we diminish."
"I am aware," I said, but he shook his head sharply.
"No. Not truly. In a century, there will half as many magicals as there are now. Assuming nothing like another war occurs," Nicholas declared. "Worse, the Statute of Secrecy won't last that long. Twenty years at least before the Muggles' technology is advanced enough to pierce the veil, so to speak."
He looked at the moon. "Will magic still survive without witches and wizards? Perhaps. The goblins and Veela and other, long sidelined creatures will continue to exist, but even they will dwindle as mankind pushes them further and further away. Eventually, there will be nothing left. Merely stories."
"I know," I replied softly, and he turned to look at me. And this time, he stared into my eyes for a long while before nodding.
"How odd… it seems you really do," he muttered, before shaking his head. "You see why I created that ritual, then."
"I do," I whispered, and looked down at what was likely Nicholas Flamel's Magnum Opus.
Because alongside his Squib-to-Magical Ritual was a second ritual. And not just any ritual, but one so great and powerful, it was on the same scale as the Memory Modification Ritual that had been created to hide the magical world during the Statute of Secrecy's implementation.
A truly global ritual that would impose Flamel's Squib-to-Wizard Ritual onto every living human being in the world.
In an instant, every single mundane human would become magical. They would become aware of magic, but lack the ability to use it. Yet their children! Their children would be able to wield magic! And their children's children!
Magic was a dominant trait. If a wizard married a witch, they would have a magical child. And yes, Squibs counted as magical. Even if just barely. Squibs who married magicals would produce magical children, and while I didn't know the exact odds, from my own research there was generally a one in ten chance of a Squib and Muggle producing a magical child. And if a wizard married a Muggle woman, their children would be magical as well, nine times out of ten. Same as if it were a witch and Muggle man.
Within a single generation after the ritual, everyone would be fully magical to some degree, and there would be no hiding it, as accidental magic would occur without warning among the young. The Statute of Secrecy would break apart under the strain. It already struggled to contain its own population. How the hell could it handle six-going-on-seven billion people?!
It wouldn't, that's what. Magic would be out in the open again, and with the ritual Flamel had devised, there was no longer any danger of people being born without magic.
And thus, magic would never die out. Humanity would be able to tame nature, and banish pollution. They'd cheat Death itself and solve the food, energy, and housing crises. Global warming? Bah! Space travel, here we come! Magic would save humanity, and the Earth itself!
Or maybe humanity would be unable to handle such power, and utterly destroy everything, leaving a charred, cursed husk of a planet in their wake. But I was willing to take the chance. If not for myself, then for every future child of the world.
I closed the journal reverently, and looked at Nicholas Flamel with respect.
"I will do it," I told him. He nodded, not needing me to explain what 'it' was.
"It won't be easy," he replied. "It'll take at least a decade to set up everything."
"It will be worth it," I vowed.
"So be it. Pear and I have made our mark on this world. We could have done more. Perhaps we should have. But hopefully, this ritual will be able to help you change the world in a way we never imagined," Nicholas declared. He then handed me a ring. It was made of pure gold, and set with a small red gemstone.
"Keep the journal, and use it for good. And take this ring as well. It is capable of creating a single dose of Elixir of Life. If you are ever dying or near death, it will activate and heal you completely."
"Thank you," I uttered gratefully, accepting both items.
"I am glad to have met you, Edward Rose. You're an interesting man. It almost makes me want to stick around for a few more years just to see what will happen," Nicholas chortled. "Now, we best go back inside before the wonder about where we are."
I nodded silently, clutching the book and ring to my chest.
As we walked back into the hut, I vowed to make the Flamels' dream a reality.
'Let there be light? HA! More like let there be magic!' I thought to myself, trying not to cackle. It was hard.
Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Return to London
Chapter Text
Chapter 42: Return to London
Our time in France, though amazing, sadly came to an end. The flight back to London wasn't terrible, though Delilah had been shocked and horrified to see how limited business class seating was. We all had fun teasing her about it all the way up until we landed at Heathrow.
"I have a car coming to pick me up," Delilah informed us as we grabbed our luggage upon returning to Heathrow. "Would you like a ride back to your homes?"
"Yes, please!" Sam requested, and I nodded as well.
"Harry's staying with me until school starts back up, so we can drop Sam off first," I informed Delilah, and she nodded slowly.
"Good. Good. I'm glad you got him out of that house," she replied. We left the baggage claim area afterwards, and the rich girl perked up when she spotted somebody nearby.
"Ah, there's my driver!" Delilah said happily, seeing an older looking man dressed as a chauffeur in a black suit and tie combo, complete with the flat cap, standing with a sign that had her name on it near the exit.
"Simon, my friends need a ride home," she informed him, and the older man nodded.
"Yes, miss," he replied. "This way."
He led them outside, before stopping them at the curb in front of a vehicle. "Here we are."
"Uh, Delilah, you said that a car was coming to pick you up," Sam said slowly, eyes wide as he stared at the 'car' in front of us. Harry and I weren't much different.
"Yes? That's correct," she replied.
"Delly, that is a limousine," I informed her, leaning in towards her while Sam and Harry stared at it in disbelief as it pulled up.
She didn't seem to understand what the issue was, so I just sighed, muttered, "Rich girl problems" under my breath, and decided to explain to her that a limo was not considered a 'car' by anyone who made less than a million pounds a year.
"It does my heart good to see the young miss with friends," the chauffeur said as he loaded up the luggage into the trunk.
"Simon!" Delilah whined in embarrassment, acting childishly for the first time since I'd met her.
"So, that driver seemed to know you," I said with a teasing grin.
"He's technically my mother's driver," Delilah admitted, face red. "He's been working for her since she was a teenager."
"Seems like a nice guy," I said. My eyes met his as I slipped into the limo, and he gave me a short of respect. I glanced down at the small bump on his hip. From previous experiences, I knew that meant he had a gun on him.
'Seems he's more than just a driver,' I mused to myself. For the moment, though, I wasn't worried. I would never hurt Delilah, and having somebody else around to protect her helped set my mind at ease.
"I've never ridden in a limo before," Harry muttered in awe as he got inside.
"Yeah, it's very nice," Sam agreed, bouncing a bit on the seat. "Soft!"
As planned beforehand, Sam was dropped off at his house first.
"Man, sis is gonna freak when she finds out I got to ride in a limousine!" Sam said he got out, shouldering his bag. Simon got his suitcase out, and he waved at us. We all waved back.
"Well, here you are," Delilah said a few minutes later as she pulled up to my apartment complex.
"My neighbors are gonna freak out," I thought with a chuckle, noticing that a few windows in the apartment complex facing towards the street had faces pressed against them. "Actually, I wonder how the Dursleys would react if we showed up at Privet Drive in one of these babies?"
"From the sounds of things, they'd likely spontaneously combust out of pure spite and jealousy," Delilah drawled.
"Yeah, they would," Harry chuckled in agreement.
As we got out and grabbed our luggage, Harry hesitated, before looking back at my girlfriend with a pensive expression.
"Everything alright, Harry?" she asked, noticing his stare.
"Yes, everything is… actually… do you think we could talk? Inside?" Harry asked Delilah.
"Sure," she said. Then, turning back to Simon, "I'm doing to grab some tea with Harry and Ed."
"I shall wait, miss. But I must remind you that you have dinner with your parents at six, so I'm afraid you can only spare thirty minutes," he said, glancing at a watch.
"Thank you, Simon," she said, a faint grimace crossing her features before they were smoothed away by a careful mask.
We went into my apartment, where I noted that it was very clean. Inky had been keeping it nice and tidy while we were gone. I got out the kettle and started to boil water, and left Harry and Delilah on the couch.
"What did you want to talk about, Harry?" Delilah asked. "Do you need help with anything? Legal matters, perhaps?"
"Um, Delilah, I was wondering… you're related to Lucius Malfoy, right?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I mean, there's your hair, and you look like an older Draco…"
"That is what Ed and I believe, yes," the young woman replied, nodding her head slowly. I took her hand, holding it tight and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
After a moment, she let out a deep breath. "Why do you ask?" she inquired.
"I have a friend, and I made a promise to him," Harry began. "Do you think… could you free Dobby?"
"Harry, that…" I began, only to cut myself off as I thought it over. "No, wait, actually, that might work."
"Who's Dobby?" Delilah asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He's a House Elf, like Inky, only he serves the Malfoy family," I explained. "And he's in an abusive relationship with them."
"The rapist doesn't treat his servants right. What a surprise," she growled. "But why would I be able to do anything about it?"
"I heard that if you give a House Elf clothes, they become freed," Harry said. "But only if they're get it from a member of the family they serve. And, well, you're technically a Malfoy…"
He trailed off, unable to fully articulate his plan.
"Would that even work?" Delilah asked. "I mean, I'm… not officially part of the family."
"According to Wizarding Law, a magical child, even a Squib, that is part of a magical family stays part of said family unless they are properly disowned. Doesn't matter if you're 'naturalborn,' if the parent is magical they are responsible for any magical children they've made. Magicals are big on blood ties, after all. Squibs are technically magical in the eyes of wizarding law, despite a few attempts to change that, and if Lucius doesn't know you exist, then he might not have filed the legal and magical paperwork to keep you from claiming to be part of the Malfoy lineage," I replied. "Add in the fact the bond with Dobby and the Malfoys is hanging on by a thread, and I think we might be able to make it work."
Delilah thought it over, and then shrugged. "Well, what do I have to lose? Let's give it a try. How can I call him?"
"House Elves have an innate magic that lets them know when somebody in the family they serve has need of them. Just call his name and think about summoning him to your side," I explained.
She nodded and took a deep breath, then called out firmly, "DOBBY!"
There was a loud "Pop!" and a surprised looking House Elf in a filthy tea-rag appeared in front of her, blinking up at Delilah in confusion.
"Youse has the blood of Master, but youse does not live in Master's home?" he uttered in bewilderment, before he noticed where he was, and who else was in the apartment with him.
"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby exclaimed.
"Hey, Dobby. This is Delilah. I think… I think she can help free you," Harry said, explaining why he was here.
His already large and wide eyes widened even further at that, and tears began to gather within them.
"Harry Potter is truly kind! Harry Potter keeps his promise to lowly little Dobby!" he sobbed out.
Delilah stared at the House Elf, perturbed as she took in his ratty outfit and scar covered body. Many wounds were faded and barely visible, thanks to the insanely fast healing factor House Elves possessed, but that just meant that he'd received all these injuries in the last week or two.
"Dobby," she said softly, and he spun around, looking up at her.
"Yes, mistress?" he asked hopefully.
"If I gave you clothes right now, would you be freed from your 'employment' with my family?" Delilah inquired.
For a tense few seconds, Dobby frowned and he went cross-eyed, as if trying to figure out if the plan would work.
"Yes! Yes!" Dobby exclaimed eagerly a minute later. "Mistress is Master Malfoy's heir!"
"His heir?" Delilah asked, taken aback.
"Yes! Youse Master's oldest child! Youse is allowed to dismiss servants in place of Master!" Dobby explained, bouncing from foot to foot.
I frowned at that. "But, she's a Squib. Wouldn't that exclude her from being the heir?"
"Wizardy law doesn't say that," Dobby hastily explained to me. "Wizardy folk follow Prim-o-geniture. Unless Master disowned Mistress for being a Squib, Mistress is heir, in magic and in law!"
"I see," I said slowly. I'd always assumed that Squibs couldn't inherit the position of head of the family or be named heir in Wizarding Britain, but thinking about it made sense that wouldn't be the case. After all, a Squib could still have kids with a high chance of being magical, so surely some families wouldn't have wanted to have them thrown from the family, if only for those hypothetical children.
'It must be due to the whole 'blood purity' thing that popped up around World War Two that caused Squibs to be seen as lesser beings,' I thought to myself.
That made me think about my own parents, and I clenched my fists at that thought of my father. Having a Squib in the family was disgraceful, and I'd shown absolutely no magical talent at all. I bet my rat of a father would have had the legal paperwork to disown me done up the day after my Hogwarts letter failed to arrive. But then he'd gotten drunk and decided that murder was preferable to dishonor and I'd offed him in retaliation. Which meant that technically, I was in fact still the head of House Hunch, assuming my mother hadn't submitted the paperwork to disown me herself. Did she even know? Did she care?
I shook my head to banish the dark thoughts and resisted the urge to sink my emotions behind my Occlumency shields. The old bastard was dead, and I didn't want to be the head of House Hunch in the first place. Everything else was in the past and didn't matter anymore.
And right now, this was not about me, but Delilah, Dobby, and House Malfoy. So, I watched as Delilah took off a shoe and carefully removed a sock, then handed it over to the wide-eyed House Eye.
When Dobby's trembling fingers closed around the article of clothing, I half expected some sort of light show. Some sparks, maybe. But no, there was no obvious sign that the bond had been broken.
The only proof that it'd worked was the tears which had been dancing in Dobby's eyes until now were finally shed, dripping down his long nose onto the floor.
"Dobby is free…" he whispered to himself in disbelief. Then, louder, and more confidently, "Dobby is free!"
"You're free!" Harry cheered with him, bouncing up from the couch and running over to the House Elf before hugging him. Dobby hugged the young wizard back, only to freeze for a moment when he realized who it was. But a squeeze from Harry convinced Dobby to return the embrace.
"You okay, Delly?" I asked in a low voice to Delilah.
"I cannot imagine what that poor thing has endured and suffered up until now," she replied in a quite mutter.
"Did you feel anything… weird?" I pressed, and she shook her head.
"No. There wasn't anything like that," she muttered. "Should there have been?"
"I dunno," I admitted. "But I think this is the best outcome, regardless."
"Yes. I think so, too," she agreed. She then leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. I smiled at that, feeling good about what we had done today.
After returning from the vacation in France, I'd had to spend the next week scrambling to finish some last-minute details. The few pieces of paperwork left to do had been finalized while I'd been gone, and I had other things to take care of.
But it was all worth it, and in the end, I'd accomplished my goal. And now I was showing off my success to somebody very close to me.
^^^&&&^^^
"So, what do you think?" I asked, looking over to the side and trying to conceal my nervousness as stood in front of my store with my mother.
It was a two-story building that I'd bought near downtown London. It'd been expensive, but worth it. After all, it was about to become my first store. Already the upside-down Omega cauldron logo was hanging above the door, and the name was printed bold as brass on the side of the building. Inside, through the frosted glass display windows, posters and signs were hung, and the shelves were full of product. Eventually, my goods were going to be sold through my investors' channels in supermarkets and pharmacies, not just here, once I had gotten the industrial potion manufacturing processes down, but for now, I was content with what I'd accomplished.
Cauldron Remedies was now open for business!
"Is this what you spent the money I gave you on?" she asked curiously, and there was a great deal of surprise, but also pride, in her voice as she looked it over.
"Yes," I replied, smoothly lying. Technically I bet it all on a wild chance that my future knowledge was accurate and then cashed it in when I won big time, but she didn't need to know that.
Instead, I gazed up at the place I'd bought, admiring it. The building itself had been a former bakery, so there was plenty of space to put the items necessary for brewing the potions, like the automatic mixers and stirrers as well as the vats and containers. And there was plenty of room to showcase items as well, though shelf space and the area for customers would be slightly limited. I already had plans to continue selling goods via mail-in fliers, like I'd done before, only more professionally.
This was just one of two places I had purchased, however. While this would be the 'face' of my operations and where I'd sell and make a few of the products, I had also bought a warehouse near the outskirts of the city to turn into a potions factory. There, I could have Inky and any other overtly magical stuff safely out of the public's eye.
'I still have to get Charlie to put up wards around both sites,' I thought to myself. The eldest Weasley might be a Cursebreaker by trade, but you couldn't exactly tear down wards without knowing about them first. And I didn't mind paying a family friend, especially when they did excellent work.
Going back to the potions, however, I had sold several of my recipes to British Chemical Concerns, the group Delilah had managed to convince to invest in me, but I made sure to keep the knowledge on how to actually brew them to myself. Without my magical catalysts their attempts would produce worthless sludge.
I still had obligations to my investors, however, so that meant I needed to mass produce certain products. Namely, the one they believed would make the most money; the hair growth potion.
It ended up working out well for me. I would manufacture the potion-creams and then my investors would arrange for most of it to be marketed and sold through one of BCC's pharmaceutical groups.
I had other things to sell, of course. One which I was still tinkering with. The menstrual cramp relief potion Perenelle Flamel had given me and Delilah was going to be big money too, alongside the Wiggenweld cream.
And I'd even gotten permission to make Sleekeazy's Hair Potion which tamed even the unruliest of hair from Harry. The famous potion had been invented by a Potter, after all, and even to this day they owned the patent for it.
It was expensive to make, due to the fact it used actual dragon hair in it, but it worked wonders! Except for the Potters themselves, for some odd reason. Their hair hated being messed with, and I sometimes wondered if any wigs made of their hair would come to life.
That was something I didn't have to worry about. Hopefully. What I did have to be concerned for was how I would be handling the business itself.
I wouldn't be running everything in my growing enterprise all by myself. I still had to get a degree or two from Oxford, after all. But I would be making money hand over fist all the while as people would take care of most of the nitty-gritty for me.
Delegation was the key to success, after all. You'd never get anywhere if you had to do all the paperwork yourself. That was why secretaries, managers, and other staff members existed. To share the burden.
And so I'd hired a bunch of people. Almost all of them were Squibs, referenced to me by Archibald. And the handful of non-magical employees were all people who knew about magic. Including, to my surprise, Dean Thomas's mother. She'd needed a job, seen I was hiring, and the rest was history.
But for the moment, that could wait. Right now I wanted to show off some more to my mother, so I led her inside.
"…and that's where the hair growth stuff goes, and this is the spot for medicine for stomach aches. Other cures for gastrointestinal issues will go here as well," I said, taking her on a very brief tour of the interior.
"Are you sure this is legal?" she wondered nervously, seeing some of my 'creams' already on the shelves.
"Of course! I'm not selling actual potions," I assured her, feeling bad about lying again in the process. But it was for her own good. As long as she didn't know the full extent, she couldn't feel guilty and pressured into telling somebody, which might alert the Aurors.
"Really?" she asked hopefully, and I nodded.
"Yup! Ever heard of Homeopathic Medicine? It's this Muggle thing where they use natural herbs and ingredients in place of actual medicine. Like willow bark tea for headaches and cramps and crystals to purge their negative energy."
"Does that actually work?" my mother inquired suspiciously.
"It's a whole thing! You can even get PhD's, the Muggle equivalent of a Mastery, in the topic. And they wouldn't do that if the subject was bogus, would they?" I replied, being evasive. Of course, I was lying again. Homeopathic stuff was bunk, but when had that stopped institutes of learning from selling degrees for worthless topics? Creative Writing was not exactly a worthwhile Bachelor's Degree. Something my old college roommate back in my previous life no doubt immensely regretted.
Still, my falsehoods reassured her, and she smiled happily at me, proud of my work and what I was doing. I felt my chest constrict with guilt, but kept on smiling back. It hurt, but it was for her own good. Maybe if I said it some more, I would eventually believe it myself.
"So, now that you've seen my store, wanna grab some lunch? There's a deli that's nearby. Has good smoothies and very nice black forest ham paninis. My treat," I offered, and my mother nodded.
"Thank you, Edward. That sounds lovely," my mother said cheerfully.
"And thank you for using my new name. I know it's taken some getting used to," I said. She just nodded, and together we went to the deli, and found out they also made one heck of a good Reuben.
Once that nice little outing was over, I bid my mother farewell as I dropped her off at the Leaky Cauldron so she could take the floo back home. Dinner wouldn't make itself, and she did need to check on my brother as well.
I didn't know what Rudy was up to at the moment, as both mother and I had tried to avoid bringing him up at all. Though I hoped he wasn't doing anything stupid. It might have been summer break from Hogwarts, but there was plenty of mischief he could get up to.
Still, it wasn't my place to interfere.
Back home at my apartment, I was looking through a variety of files. Paperwork was truly annoying, but it had to be done. This current pile was all for college, though. Oxford operated on a Trimester system, and their first school term, Michaelmas, started in October and would go until December. Then there was the Hilary Semester from January until March, and lastly the Trinity Semester that went from late April to June.
I would be starting my first lessons in October, and I was quite excited about it. But there were still a bunch of things to sort through and file. Hence my busy schedule.
Sometime later, I leaned back and stretched, ready for a break and to start on dinner. Harry was at Hermione's today, I believed, and would be eating out with the Grangers, so I only had to prepare food for myself and Inky tonight.
As I got up, I shot a longing look towards the bedroom where I stashed Flamel's journal. The book had become my most prized possession, but I resisted the urge to crack it open and just lose myself in it.
As much as I want to, I lacked the time to really delve into Nicholas Flamel's tome, and there was a huge amount of data I'd need to go over before I could even scratch the surface of the secrets within.
It galled me to admit it, but I was less than a novice when it came to Alchemy. I'd focused more on Potions, Runes, and even Divination, and neglected the other disciplines. And while Potions would definitely get my foot in the door for Alchemy, a solid grounding in Transfiguration, Charms, and even Arithmancy and Astronomy was necessary to really get the most out of Alchemy.
'And even if I had the time, I lack a lot of resources necessary to even attempt any of the Flamel's more advanced rituals,' I thought to myself.
Alchemy itself was not a cheap subject to learn. A ritual that could turn a Muggle or Squib into somebody with magic? The temptation to try it out immediately was immense, but the quick glances I'd taken of it told me that it would be prohibitively expensive. Dragon's blood was one of the main ingredients, and that stuff cost a hundred galleons a pint!
Still, the cost didn't discourage me at all. In fact, it gave me a reason to keep going.
'What would I do when Voldemort was defeated?' That was a question that'd popped up in my mind a few times. Obviously, I'd keep running my businesses, but beyond that? I'd had nothing really planned. Maybe start a family? Live for a century or two before kicking the bucket?
But Nicholas Flamel had given me a task. A mission. A dream. A purpose! It would take years – decades! – to implement the Mundane-To-Magical ritual on a global scale, but it was possible.
The Statute of Secrecy would fall. It was inevitable. Already, the writing was on the wall for anyone to see it. Video cameras were becoming more common, and London would soon become infamous for the sheer number of security cameras it used. Before that happened, however, I would have to ensure that every human on the planet would become magical. It would cause chaos, but with everyone on a more or less equal footing, peaceful integration was possible.
I would of course have to direct things behind the scenes to make sure things went smoothly. But with my plans to amass an insane amount of wealth, I could solve a lot of problems by throwing money at them.
Still, there was a future me's problem. And that guy could handle it when it came up. For now, though, it was getting late, and I needed some food. Tomorrow, I would be taking Harry over to the Burrow for a playdate with the Weasleys, and organize a shopping trip down to Diagon Alley for their school supplies.
It was going to be fun!
^^^&&&^^^
Author's Note: Happy 4th of July, everyone! Have an early chapter!
Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Back to School Shopping
Chapter Text
Chapter 43: Back to School Shopping
"Welp, here we are," I said, shaking my head a bit to clear it after getting popped over to the Burrow by Inky. We were on the walkway leading up to the crooked tower, and it smelled nice, a bit of rain having come through last night.
"We should have flown," Harry grumbled, not fond of traveling via House Elf either.
"I doubt it'd be smoother, certainly slower, and we'd stand out like a pair of sore thumbs," I reminded him.
"I have an invisibility cloak," Harry pointed out, and I paused.
"Right, you do, forgot that," I admitted. "But still, no magic during the summer, and all that."
"Does the rule against underaged uses of magic also include brooms?" Harry asked challengingly, and I had to think about it.
"Um, I don't actually know," I admitted. "Something to look up."
I glanced down at him. "Oh, and slightly off topic, but thanks for lending Dobby to me."
"No problem," Harry replied as we walked up to the Burrow's front door. "He doesn't really have much to do while I'm staying with you, and he likes helping."
He then frowned. "Still, was it really okay to pay him so little? A few sickles a day isn't much."
"I'm surprised he let me pay him at all," I admitted. "House Elves normally would be insulted by that offer. Still, he'll be a big help with running the potion factory."
Inky was getting older, after all, and an extra pair of hands would make the work go faster and smoother. And it wasn't like Harry had much need for a House Elf in the first place. Plus, Dobby has been very eager to help me out as well in order to pay me back for helping him and looking after his new master. So it worked out nicely.
Attention back on the present, I knocked on the door, and when it opened two twins grinned back at us.
"Eddy!" "And ickle Harry!" the twins chimed in unison.
"Fred, George," I said in greeting. "Making yourselves useful today, I see."
"Mum's all up and eager," Fred said as he ushered us inside.
"Best to stay out of her way if you don't want extra chores," George suggested.
"Ah, yes, Hurricane Molly strikes again," I chuckled, earning scandalized gasps and giggles from the twins.
"Best not say that-"
"-Where anyone can hear," the twins replied, stifling their mirth as they led Harry and me into the dining room, where the rest of the redheaded family was.
"Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for having me over. Hey Ron. Hello Percy," Harry greeted them, before noticing one of the little Weasleys at the table wasn't one he recognized.
"Harry ol' pal, this is Ginny," Fred said, throwing an arm around their sibling's shoulder.
"She's our adorable baby sister," George added, getting onto the other side of her.
"Hey, Gin," I greeted.
She just nodded at me, but her eyes were on Harry, and she was blushing up a storm, completely embarrassed by her older brothers' antics.
I caught the twins' eyes, and they smirked. I grinned evilly back, and we shared a sinister laugh.
"What's gotten into you three?" Ron asked, looking at us like we were crazy, while Ginny continued to turn redder than her hair.
"They're just acting childishly," Percy sniffed dismissively.
"That may be-"
"But at least we know how to have fun," the twins teased their older sibling.
"I can have fun!" Percy retorted. "I've got a whole list on fun activities and how to best perform them!"
Everyone, even his parents, gave him long, disappointed looks, which made the young soon-to-be Sixth Year huff.
"It's hard to believe he's our brother-"
"With that broom up his bum," the twins whispered loudly to each other.
"Fred! George! Don't be crass!" Mrs. Weasley huffed.
"Sorry, mum," they chorused.
"Hmph. Good. Now, we'll be heading out to Diagon Alley soon," the Weasley matriarch declared. "We'll do some shopping, and then we'll have lunch before finishing up and return home for a nice supper."
"Actually, do you think we could wait another day before heading out to buy school supplies?" I requested, making the Weasleys look to me in surprise.
"Why? I think today would be the perfect time to do so," Molly wondered.
"Well, partly, because that's when Rudy is going with mother to Diagon Alley," I replied, which earned a sympathetic wince from her and the other children. "But also, it's going to be very crowded, as Lockheart is going to be having a book signing down at Flourish and Blotts this afternoon."
"Lockheart? Really?" Mrs. Weasley gasped excited, and even Ginny's eyes lit up.
"Yeah, the Alley will be jampacked with people looking for an autograph, and I think it'd be a lot less hassle to go afterwards."
Ginny pouted as her mother nodded slowly in agreement, seeing the merit. If it were just her and her kids plus Harry, it wouldn't have mattered too much. But, several others were going to be coming with us. Molly was a lot of things, but she wouldn't want to run afoul of Madam Longbottom or Madam Bones if she lost their relatives in the crowd.
'Plus, going later would prevent Lucius from dropping Riddle's Diary into Ginny's supplies,' I added to myself in the privacy of my mind. It likely wouldn't stop the former Death Eater from unloading his master's Horcrux on some unsuspecting victim, but it would keep Ginny safe. And as distant as I'd become from the family over the years, I still didn't want to see any of them get hurt if I could help it.
"Yes, I can see your reasoning, we'll hold off on shopping for school supplies for the day after," she said, before beaming. "Still, if anyone wants to come with me to Diagon Alley to see Lockheart later today, I'll happily take them."
Harry and the other boys all shook their heads. They weren't particularly interested in meeting the author.
"Maybe we could invite Neville and the others for a shopping trip," Harry suggested instead.
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mr. Weasley said.
"Yeah! We can get everyone in Gryffindor to come!" Ron said excitedly.
"Well, maybe all the First Years," Arthur cautioned. "Future and former. I'll send a few letters."
"Great! Hey, Harry, wanna have a game of quidditch?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded eagerly. The children soon spilled out in the backyard, even Ginny and Percy venturing out to watch and possibly participate. For the latter, he wanted to prove he could be 'fun.' For the former, a game of quidditch with her crush trumped going to Diagon Alley for a book signing.
I shared amused glances with the adults. "I'll go make sure they don't do anything too silly," I promised, and they gave me relieved look.
As I walked outside, I felt good, knowing I'd stopped Ginny becoming a victim.
'Now, I only have one more task to complete before the school years starts,' I thought to myself.
I couldn't do it now, but it wouldn't be long before I succeeded. Things were going my way!
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
The next day, Harry and I returned to the Burrow. We weren't the only ones, though. Hermione, Dean Thomas, and Sally-Anne Perks were with us. All the Muggleborn in Gryffindor were here today. And none of them looked like they'd enjoyed the ride on the Inky Express.
"You get used to it," I told them as they held their stomachs and wobbled about.
"I don't believe you," Dean said, glaring up at me.
"You're a smart boy," I grinned back. He just grumbled. I couldn't wait to see how they reacted to the Knight Bus!
'Someday,' I told myself. 'For now, I'll get to watch 'em experience the floo, next!'
We walked up to the Weasley's house, the three newcomers staring at the odd building with a sort of horrified awe.
"Welcome! You're right on time! Please, come in!" Mrs. Weasley said, greeting us at the door.
We went inside, and found we were the first ones there, with only Ron sitting in the living room with Ginny, playing a game of chess.
"Neville, Seamus, and the other girls said they'd meet us at the Leaky Cauldron," Ron helpfully explained when Hermione wondered where the others were.
"Does that include Hannah and Susan?" Harry wondered.
"Oh? Wondering about how your girlfriend is doing?" Dean asked in a teasing voice, Sally-Anne giggling madly as Harry spluttered and Ginny shot him a betrayed look.
"If they're going to meet us there, who else are we waiting for?" Hermione asked.
"Luna's gonna be coming with us," Ron said.
"Who?" Sally-Anne inquired.
"She's going to be a First Year-"
"Like our darling baby sister," Fred (or maybe George?) informed us as they entered the living room.
"And since she's our neighbor-"
"We thought it'd only be polite to offer to take her along as well," the twins revealed.
"That's nice. Hope she's doing well. Haven't seen her since I moved out of Lumpkin Patch," I mused.
"You used to live around here?" Hermione asked, and I nodded.
"Yes. In fact, I used to babysit these rascals," I said, a smirk on my face. Suddenly, it was the twins' turn to express fear, as the look on my face promised plenty of embarrassing stories. I had dirt on all the Weasleys, after all. And they knew it.
"Well played," the twins said in unison, begrudging respect in their tones.
Before I could torment them any further, there was a knock at the door, and I had a feeling I knew who it was.
I was proven correct when a tall woman with blonde hair that was almost white entered the living room, a young girl with equally pale blonde hair holding onto her hand.
"Mrs. Lovegood, good to see you again," I said, smiling warmly at her. I then glanced down at her daughter. "Hi, Luna. Excited to be going to Hogwarts?"
The silver-haired girl nodded shyly in response. "Do you think they'll have Crumplehorned Snorkracks?"
"Dunno. But you should definitely ask Hagrid. He's the Groundskeeper, so if anyone would know, it'd be him."
That brought a smile to her face, and she ran off to chat with Ginny. Her mother smiled fondly, even if there was a note of exasperation in it.
"Her father's really filled her head with some strange ideas," she said as way of explanation, and I just shrugged.
"Better an active imagination than not having one at all," I replied, which earned me a nod. She then left to find Mrs. Weasley, no doubt to gossip over the latest Lockheart book.
As she went off to where the Weasley Matron was, I couldn't keep the smile off my face. If there was one thing I was proud of, one thing I could say had been worth everything I'd gone through, it had been saving Pandora Lovegood's life.
Luna lost her mother to an accident as a child in the books, but not here in this world. I wasn't sure why, but butterflies being the way they are, I knew it had something to do with me and my presence. Had it been the time I'd scolded her parents for neglecting her that'd changed things?
Both Xenophilius and Pandora Lovegood were… airheads. They were quirky but good people, but I don't think they'd been ready for children. They were often both caught up in their own work. Xeno with his newspaper, Phyllis with her spell-studies. That left Luna alone far too often. Sometimes they even forgot to feed her!
After the dozenth or so time it'd happened, I'd angrily confronted Luna's parents about it. A four-year-old girl should not have been eating grass in the yard because she hadn't had breakfast or lunch! Thankfully, it seemed to have worked. They were more attentive, and that also seemed to have resulted in Phyllis not dying. Perhaps being away from the lab more often had helped in some way?
I'd all but forgotten the Lovegoods after I'd moved out, and it hadn't clicked with me until I'd begun reviewing my knowledge of the Harry Potter-verse after I'd met Harry and begun focusing more on the individual people in the story and not the overarching circumstances behind the plot.
Regardless, when I realized what had happened, I'd been shocked, and then elated. More than anything, it proved to me that while things were similar to what I knew from the past, there was still a chance to change things. Fate was not immutable. It could be altered. For better or worse. Though in this case, a loving mother not dying horribly in front of her daughter could only be a good thing in my book.
Now that everyone had gathered up, we went to the floo, where Mr. Weasley was waiting for us. He would be our chaperon for the day, while Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Lovegood would stay behind and whip up a big ol' feast for when we got back. And it was gonna be a big one, since everybody we were going to meet for shopping would be joining us.
As the flames in the fireplace turned a brilliant green, we all stepped through one after the other, whisked away to the Leaky Cauldron.
We all emerged one by one from the pub's fireplaces, some of us staggering a bit or outright falling onto faces from the disorienting trip.
As one of the first ones through, I immediately spotted the other Gryffindors at a table. How could I tell it was them? Well, for one, there was a lot of 'em, and no other group had as many children. Secondly, there were two very noticeable people among them. One a pudgy boy with a nervous disposition, the other a grim-faced, hook-nosed woman who wore a stuffed vulture in her hat.
By that alone I was able to immediately tell they were Neville Longbottom and his battle axe of a grandmother. Which meant that the group they were with had to be the other Gryffindors.
The Halfbloods and legacy students (I refused to call them purebloods) all waved eagerly as the Muggleborns and Weasleys tumbled out after each other.
"Hey, guys!" Harry said, waving cheerfully at the other Gryffindors as he got back onto his feet.
"Still haven't gotten the hang of floo travel, huh?" I teased, and he pouted.
"It's not my fault! Everything just starts spinning so fast!"
"I find it's easier to just keep one foot in the air, like you're about to take another step. Treat it like walking through a doorway," I suggested, giving him and the other Muggleborn some advice. "Or, do what the twins do, and just jump through. You land on both feet that way."
Said twins flashed the pile of children thumbs up, while Percy grumbled about them being bad influences.
"We're all here, then?" Arthur Weasley asked as he appeared from the fireplace. "Oh, hello there, Augusta. I didn't expect you to be here today."
"And why wouldn't I wish to meet my grandson's friends?" the matron of the Longbottom family inquired haughtily.
Mr. Weasley laughed weakly and wisely decided not to respond, less he incur her wrath. Instead, he turned to the other adults who'd shown up.
"Tammy! Rupert! My, it's been a while, hasn't it?" he said, greeting a pair of people, their proximity making it clear they were a couple. The man was short and stocky with a large amount of, while
"Yes, it has," the man of the group confirmed. "I was surprised to hear my Hannah had become friends with so many people! Why, I remember when she refused to play with anyone except Susan."
"Dad!" Hannah Abbot whined, punching her father in the arm. He just chuckled, unaffected. At her side, Susan Bones giggled.
The other adult there was an Indian woman, with a pair of twins of her own. Parvati had brought her Ravenclaw sibling Padma along with her, it seemed. Mr. Weasley greeted her polite, and Mrs. Patil smiled, expressing her own joy at the fact that her daughters had made so many friends as well.
"Seems like everyone is here," Mr. Weasley said. "Let's get some shopping done, then!"
That spurred everyone on, and the group of children spilled into Diagon Alley.
We wore through the shops on the street, buying the supplies and burying the storeowners in a veritable tidal wave of gold. Well, not literally, but there was a lot of spending happening.
Eventually we made it to Flourish and Blotts, the final stop on our shopping spree. Inside, the parents and myself were given a brief moment to relax as the children were able to more or less pick out their own books. And a few extras in Hermione and Padma case.
"So, Mr. Weasley, I hear you've been cracking down on Dark artifacts. How's that been going?" I asked as I stood beside Arthur as the children browsed the bookstore.
"Yes, it's been a bit tricky, but it's rewarding work. Still, I'm glad to have time off at least," Mr. Weasley said fondly.
"Lucius Malfoy causing any troubles?" I inquired, and he grimaced.
"He has been helpful and cooperative. Which just makes me suspicious," he admitted.
"Yeah, I can see that," I muttered.
"As suspicious as I think it may be, sadly, not much I can do about it. He's an upstanding citizen, after all," Arthur said, though I could hear the sarcasm in his voice. It was as thick as treacle.
"The founder of their lineage would be ashamed to see what the Malfoys have become in this day and age," I sighed with a disgusted shake of the head.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, and I noted I suddenly had an audience. Mostly red-heads, but there were other colors mixed in thanks to Harry and his friends.
I was surprised that they'd heard me, but decided to roll with it and give a bit of context.
"Well, you know what 'Malfoy' means, right? It's based off of French. 'Bad Faith' is what it loosely translates to. That's the origin of the Malfoy name," I pointed out. "But no Frenchman would appreciate being called that. That's like a British person having a last name of Crapbucket or something along those lines. And as 'eccentric' as the magical world gets with its naming conventions, they aren't there yet."
"Bad Faith? Did the Malfoys do something bad, then?" a curious Luna asked, and I smiled at her. The flighty silver-haired girl had always been a favorite of mine. She also liked the stories I'd used to tell when we were all younger, before I moved out.
"Nope. See, the founder of the Malfoy line was actually a Muggleborn privateer who harassed the French way back in the Anglo-French War of 1557. He got his wealth from plundering French merchants and bought himself a noble title from the English Crown. He'd poise as a merchant himself before attacking and stealing all their stuff. Hence the French name for him. Malfoy. Bad Faith."
"His ancestor was a pirate?!" Ron gawked. "That's… that's so cool!"
The other boys in the group all nodded their heads, even Neville.
"How did they go from that, to, well, that?" Hannah Abbot asked, nose wrinkled up in disgust as she thought about the little ferret and his father.
"Arrogance and poor life choices," I guessed with a shrug. "You want to know the real kicker?"
"What?" Ginny asked eagerly.
"The first Malfoy – some guy called Tiberius – was a Gryffindor," I revealed.
That got a host of wide-eyes and dropped jaws and I cackled at their expressions.
"A Gryffindor? Seriously?" Harry asked skeptically.
"How do you know all this, Mr. Rose?" Hermione wondered.
"I have a bunch of old notebooks and stuff from my family. One of them is a journal of my ancestor, Bartimaeus Hunch, who lived during that time." I replied. "He spent a few pages ranting about Tiberius Malfoy and various other nuevo rich buying lands and titles instead of earning them."
"That's surprising," Dean Thomas muttered. "I haven't really had many interactions with the guy – he prefers to try and pick fights with Harry mostly – but Draco Malfoy doesn't seem like somebody whose ancestor was a pirate."
"To be fair to the Malfoys, that was a long time ago," Rupert Abbot said, Hannah's father playing devil's advocate.
"It's true. The founder of my House was a necromancer who was a Slytherin," Susan spoke up. "Families can change over time."
"Necromancy?" Harry uttered, intrigued, and Susan blushed at the attention she received from him and the others in the group.
"It was a long time ago," she mumbled, embarrassed and perhaps a touch ashamed.
"Don't worry about it. Besides, necromancy wasn't really all that bad centuries ago," I helpfully assured her.
"Really?" Susan asked skeptically.
"Necromancy used to be a magical discipline used by Shamans to commune with the dead and help them pass on," I explained. "It was used to exorcise evil spirits, and let families have one final conversation with the recently deceased. Sort of like a wake."
"Unfortunately, necromancy fell out of favor due to a few bad eggs. Ghosts are just clumps of magic, and unscrupulous mages could use necromancy to bind them and force them to obey, or use the wandering spirits as batteries for foul rituals. And of course you have the Inferni, or corpses reanimated with Dark magic, and anything associated with death, even the helpful aspects, ended up shunned. A bit like Parseltongue, come to think of it."
I then scratched my chin thoughtfully. 'Actually, the lack of necromancers in the modern era would explain why there are so many ghosts hanging around.'
Susan looked intrigued by that, and I had a feeling she'd been looking into her own family's history a bit more after that.
"But isn't Parseltongue a Dark ability?" Lavender Brown asked, and Harry flinched a bit at that/
"No, it just had a couple arses who abused it," I replied. I got a few scandalized gasps from the children, and Luna pointed an accusing finger at me.
"You swore!" she said. The silvery blonde girl then pulled out a mason jar from somewhere, which made me blink. And then I saw the words 'Swear Jar!' crudely scrawled onto the side with a glitter pen.
"Fine, fine," I muttered, pulling out a knut and handing it to her. "Can't believe you still have that. And where were you hiding it?"
"A Pouch of Shrinking," she replied, showing off a little pink purse she'd been carrying. Cheaper than a mokeskin pouch or a bottomless bag, all it did was shrink whatever you put inside it so you could carry more. Things still weighed the same, though, which was the main downside.
"You were saying about Parseltongue being misunderstood, Mr. Rose?" Mrs. Parvati inquired, and I blinked at her, before recalling her heritage.
"Ah. Right, yes… anyways, Parseltongue is just a magical ability, one inherited, though since it's a language it's possible to be taught. But that's besides the point. Just because some bad men used it in the past doesn't mean it's inherently bad. Very few things in life are like that," I said to the children.
"That's correct," Mrs. Parvati said, smiling softly at me in gratitude. "My uncle is a Parseltongue, and he is a respected member of the community back home. Though we call them something different in India."
"There are wizards and witches in the Americas who are Parseltongues as well who are seen as important figures," I added, happy to correct some misconceptions. "Sure, Slytherin, one of the more famous Parseltongues in Europe, was a Muggle hating jerk later on in his life, but that wasn't because of him being Parseltongue."
"So, Slytherin was just bad, then?" Neville asked hesitantly.
"Perhaps. A lot of history tends to get distorted as time passes. I don't even know for sure if he can be blamed for not liking Muggles, given some of the things they did a thousand years ago. Heck, they've done things in the past few decades that are… bad. But every culture has its shadows," I admitted with a faint sigh. "Regardless, Slytherin certainly wasn't justified to hate Muggles as much as he did. Parseltongue or not."
"I see," Neville muttered softly to himself, sounding thoughtful.
"And honestly, thinking about the topic, if the Hat were to Sort me, I'd probably end up in Slytherin's House myself," I mused thoughtfully.
"Really?" Ron uttered. The rest of the kids were just as surprised, and so were the adults, though they hid it better.
"Really. I might be smart, but I pursue knowledge for the sake of my own purposes," I stated. "Ravenclaw is all about knowledge for the sake of knowledge, and to a lesser extent, using it for a greater good, like helping society. I'll gladly help people, but I do have my own goals I'd want to secure along the way."
"But, but Slytherin is-! They're-!" Ron sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence. "They're the bad guys!"
I glared at him, disappointment in my eyes. "No, they're not. Just because an unfortunate number of evil people have come from that house in the past doesn't mean it's a dumping ground for undesirables."
"Well, the only Slytherins we know are kinda mean," Seamus said weakly. "Can ya blame us for thinking that way?"
"I have a pretty good idea of what Slytherin is like these days. My brother is in that House," I reminded them. "And despite it all, I'd still call myself a Slytherin knowing that."
Seeing they didn't understand me at all, I sighed, then asked, "What is Slytherin the house of?"
"Cunning and Ambition," Hermione piped up, faster than the rest.
"Cunning. Another word for 'clever.' And who else is supposed to be clever? Ravenclaw," I pointed out. "Ambition. The desire to strive for greatness. Reminds me a lot of Gryffindor's 'daring,' or Hufflepuff's 'hard work.'"
The gaggle of students around me all gawked like I'd just blown their mind. "See? One house can embody the traits of the other three, if you know how to look. Plus, check out all the good people who've come from Slytherin. Rince Mettle, inventor of the standardized cauldrons we all use today. Trinity the Sparrow, the first modern Animagus. Modello Quintly, inventor of Magical Portraits. Valarian Urd, First Minister of Magic in Britain. Merlin, for Merlin's sake!"
That earned me a few giggles, and I smiled at them.
"But Ed, why are there so many…" Ginny started to ask, before trailing off, unsure of how to ask her question.
"Why are there so many 'bad people' in Slytherin?" I asked, guessing her question. The youngest Weasley nodded her head meekly.
A frown crossed my face as I thought over my answer. "There are probably a bunch of reasons. The biggest likely being the unfortunate association of the Death Eaters with that House. It is true a lot of Death Eaters did come from there, and it's the most recent conflict in living memory, so the stigma has sadly stuck."
"However, I honestly think the Statute of Secrecy did more to harm the House of Slytherin than any other event in history," I admitted, getting some surprised looks.
"What do you mean by that?" To my surprise, it was Arthur Weasley who asked this.
"Which House is known for creativity?" I asked instead of answering, and everyone listening to me blinked at the seeming non sequitur.
"Um, Ravenclaw?" Padma Patil guessed.
"Nowadays, yes. Or at least, they're known for making a lot of discoveries academically speaking. Which is not the same as creativity in my opinion, but I digress. Before the Statute of Secrecy, Slytherin House was famous for its inventors, artists, playwrights and more. Slytherin was the house of politicians but also of dreamers. Cunning and ambition are not inherently evil traits, and people who have high artistic talent also often have these traits in some form or fashion."
I sighed. "But then the Statute came into effect, and magic was hidden from countless nations and cultures. Famous men and women suddenly had their achievements erased from the minds of their adoring fans and generous non-magical patrons, and those with creative passions found themselves stifled, unable to express themselves openly or find a wider audience. The magical world has stagnated due to its isolation, and one of the many victims of this has been art and imagination. Otherwise, how else would you explain the drek and drivel like Lockhart's books becoming so popular?"
A few giggles, but nervous this time, and it was only now that I realized that it wasn't just the group I'd come in with, but the entire bookstore that was listening in on my rant. I resisted the unconscious urge to twitch or act nervous in the face of my newfound audience, and simply continued to speak, doing my best to pay the bystanders no heed.
"The magical world is starved for creativity, and Slytherin House has suffered for it. As such, the House of the Cunning and Ambitious has latched onto anything that might give them some form of identity and unity of purpose. It's why I believe Grindelwald and Voldemort's blood purity nonsense found such fertile soil in the House of Serpents."
I ignored the gasps and flinches when I spoke his name, and instead focus on the children in front of me.
"I hope you understand what I'm trying to explain to you. I was a bit longwinded, but in the end, it's important to judge people on their actions, and not just make broad calls based on things like house affiliation. Also, context is vital."
They all nodded dutifully at that, but I could tell some of them hadn't really understood what I was trying to teach them, or at least, hadn't internalized it yet. Hopefully they would, in time. And perhaps if they spoke to their parents about this, it might. Or, it might not. Only the future would tell if I'd have an effect on their minds.
Thankfully, my little speech had happened after the kids had all grabbed the books they needed, so they paid for their purchases, and then we made our way out of the shop and back to the Leaky Cauldron.
As we left, I felt many pairs of eyes lingering on me. I spared them little heed, save for discreetly checking on who was doing so, and why. Most seemed curiously as to who I was, while others were annoyed, or even outright angered at my words, though why that was, I had no idea.
However, the gazes I found the most interesting was a piercing one that came from a father and his two golden-haired daughters, who watched me closely as I left. Out of all the other stares I'd received, theirs held curiosity in them. And also a bit of respect, interestingly enough.
I recognized the father, of course. It was hard not to know the face of Cyrus Greengrass, richest man in Wizarding Britain, after all. The Blacks and Malfoys wished they had the kind of cash and influence the owner of the largest and most successful potion ingredient farms could throw around on a whim.
And it seemed I'd caught that man's attention thanks to my impassioned speech.
'Maybe something good might just come from this after all,' I mused to myself thoughtfully. Or maybe it'd turn out awful. But I'd deal with it as it came. Right now, I had to focus on herding a mob of children back to the floo so we'd be back in time for dinner.
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Lucius POV
Lucius Malfoy was not having a good day. Or week. Or summer, really. Not since the Ministry had decided to crack down hard on the possession of Dark Artifacts.
From what his sources had told him, the crack-down had been initiated by a 'suggestion' by Dumbledore to Minister Fudge. Apparently, Professor Quirrell, the Muggle Studies turned Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, had gone crazy and tried to steal several powerful magical artifacts from the school.
How this exactly translated into a purge aimed at the Purebloods – and it was, no pretty language could hide that – Lucius had no clue, but Dumbledore had convinced the Minister of Magic that this was the right thing to do, and then sicced his lackey, Arthur Weasley, onto the upstanding families, trying to find any 'illegal' magical artifacts.
Then, things had gone from bad to worse when the bond between him and his House Elf had suddenly broken one day, and he had no way of knowing how or why.
'Did the damned thing kill himself with one of his punishments?' Lucius couldn't help but wonder. He was annoyed by the creature's death more for the inconveniences it had caused him than any fondness for it. House Elves were not cheap to buy, hence why even a wealthy family of the Malfoy's stature could only afford a single one.
Add in the fact that their numbers were dwindling and that their purchase was highly restricted and regulated by the Ministry, and it had cost him a considerable sum to expedite the process. And even then, it took two whole weeks for the new House Elf to be delivered! Two weeks of having to do his own cooking and cleaning like some kind of Muggle!
Well, technically, he hadn't done it himself. His wife had chosen to take over the kitchen after he'd made one too many burnt meals. And his son had been assigned to 'practicing' Scourgify and other cleaning spells. Still, it was a horrific inconvenience!
Last, but certainly not least, was the fact Lucius had been unable to get rid of a few artifacts at Borgin and Burkes. One of which he'd had no way of 'losing track of' easily.
It had been given to him by the Dark Lord himself, and he'd been ordered to protect it with his life. Lucius knew that two other families had been given the honor of protecting an artifact personally gifted to them by their lord; the Blacks and the Lestranges. He knew not what they were, only that they'd been important to the Dark Lord. And that Regulus Black had mysteriously disappeared afterwards.
Which was why Lucius had no idea what the item he'd been given was, or why it took the form of a cheap journal anybody could buy at Flourish and Blotts.
At first he'd thought it was a book of spells the Dark Lord had created himself, but it was empty. And no amount of spell work could force it to reveal its secrets. In the end, after failing to unlock its secrets, he'd decided to toss it away to hide himself from the purge going on. Sure, it didn't seem magical, but the Dark Lord was not a man who played jokes on his followers, so whatever it was, it had to be important.
He hoped Draco would follow his instructions and pass it off to another student at Hogwarts as soon as possible. He didn't want his son being accused of harboring a Dark artifact, after all.
'I do hope Tom doesn't mind that I gave him away so easily,' Lucius thought to himself. 'But at least I did as he asked. Though I wonder why Tom wanted to go to Hogwarts in the first place?'
The head of House Malfoy suddenly blinked slowly at that, his thoughts thrown into disarray.
'Wait, who is Tom, again?' he thought to himself, confused. A moment later, the Mark of his Master throbbed with pain, and he forgot whatever it was he'd even been thinking about.
It must not have been all that important, in the end.
Chapter 44: Chapter 44: Back to Hogwarts
Chapter Text
Chapter 44: Back to Hogwarts
The night air was starting to become a bit nippy. Not quite cold, but definitely chilly, especially whenever the wind blew. Thankfully, Harry and I were only standing in front of the doors for a couple seconds before it was opened.
"Welcome, Harry! Edward! So glad you could make it!" Mr. Weasley said exuberantly, ushering us inside.
"Thanks for having us over," I said.
"The food smells great!" Harry chimed in. I couldn't help but nod in agreement. The smells wafting in from the kitchen were tantalizing. As expected when Mrs. Weasley was cooking, really.
As for why we were here? It was the day before the children had to leave for a new school year at Hogwarts, and we'd been invited over for a farewell feast being thrown by, you guessed it, the Weasleys. They were a lively bunch today, and not even Luna – who'd been invited over with her parents – was exempt from the excitement.
"It certainly does. Why don't you join Ron and the others? They're bothering the ghoul in the attic, and maybe you might be able to get them to stop tormenting the poor thing," Arthur Weasley said.
"Good luck with that," I snorted as Harry dashed off towards the stairs. Mr. Weasley just sighed before leading me into the living room where the other adults were.
Well, there were only two others, really. Still, I gave my greetings to the Lovegoods, and sat down in a worn but very comfy armchair while Mr. Weasley went to fetch some drinks.
"Doing well, Mr. Lovegood? Haven't seen you in a while," I said, nodding towards the eccentric newspaper owner who was sitting with his wife on a couch.
"Quite right. Several years since we last spoke. And I have been well in the interim. The Quibbler has grown quite a bit. I even got an offer to distribute back issue copies in Paris!" Xenophilius said happily. "And please, call me Xeno."
"Is that right? Impressive!" I said, meaning it. "I was there during the summer, in fact. Lovely city. You and the wife should visit it. You'll have plenty of time while Luna is at school."
"Hmm, you're right. I hadn't thought about that. It would be a good way to see how my paper would be distributed. And it would be a lovely way to spend our anniversary," Mr. Lovegood said, quickly adding that last part after spotting his wife gain an annoyed look at his first reason for visiting.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea! You know, the Muggles don't call Paris the City of Love for no reason," I said, grinning at the two.
"Ooo! I rather like that name," Pandora Lovegood said, wrapping an arm around one of Xenophilius'. "And call me Pandora, dear."
"Sure," I agreed. Arthur Weasley then returned a moment later with a tray of shot glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey.
He poured everyone a shot, and we happily enjoyed the drinks, laughing as we spat out smoke and flames after imbibing the enchanted alcohol.
I made sure not to drink too much, though. I wanted a clear head for tonight.
Eventually, Mrs. Weasley called out to that dinner was ready, and I went to fetch the kids.
"Oi! You guys better wash up and get downstairs or else the food will be gone!" I said as I poked my head into the attic. The ghoul in the corner let out a loud sigh of relief as the kids finally left him alone.
"Do I want to know what you did to that poor creature?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I was just asking him questions," Luna said innocently while Harry, Ron, and Ginny looked away guiltily.
"And we were helping her," George and Fred said simultaneously.
I shook my head, not believing a word any of them said, but chose to look around for the last member of the group who I hadn't seen yet.
"Where's Percy?" I asked.
"In his room," Fred (or maybe George?) said.
"Polishing his badge," George (or maybe Fred?) finished with a smirk.
"I'm going to assume you mean his Prefect Badge," I deadpanned at the twins, who snickered and nodded.
I nodded back, then left the attic, trusting them to be able to come down and wash up on their own while I went to get Percy.
After Charlie had graduated Hogwarts and gotten a job at the Romanian Dragon Preserve, his room had been given over to Percy, meaning Ron didn't have to share their old room with his older brother. I knocked on the door, hearing my old friend call out, "Come in!"
I opened the door but didn't step inside. Percy looked up from his desk where he'd been doing some reading, and gained a surprised look on his face when he saw me.
"Edward?" he uttered.
"Hey, Percy," I said, greeting him.
"You're here already? I thought…" he trailed off, glancing to the window before wincing. "Ah. It seems I was a bit too distracted to realize how much time had passed."
"Time flies when you're having fun," I said with a chuckle.
"It does," he agreed, somewhat stiffly.
"Mrs. Weasley wanted me to tell everyone dinner is ready," I said, breaking the awkward silence. "Better hurry and use the bathroom before the others get to it."
Percy grimaced at that before getting up. I stepped back, letting him past. He sent me a look I couldn't read before heading off to wash up.
Shrugging, I went back down to the dining room and helped Mrs. Weasley set the food out on the table. She didn't really need the help, but she appreciated it all the same.
Before dinner though, as everyone gathered at the table and sat down, I snuck upstairs, claiming to need to use the bathroom. However, when I left the dining room behind, I didn't go there right away.
Instead, I snuck into Ron's room. There, a modestly sized cage containing a certain pudgy brown rat could be seen sitting on his bedside dresser.
The door was unlocked, and I opened the cage. 'Scabbers' tensed up, but when he saw it was me, he relaxed.
"Hey little guy," I crooned softly. "You look hungry. Did Ron forget to feed you?"
I knew he hadn't. He'd put out a bit of food earlier, but 'Scabbers' wouldn't say no to more, and so made a squeak, begging for food.
I stuck a tiny piece of moistened bread I drew from my pocket into his home. "You'll like it! It's been soaked in Mrs. Weasley's split pea soup. Dunno how that woman makes something green and mushy taste so good. Must be magic!"
'Scabbers' paid my bad joke no heed and grabbed the piece of wet bread, gobbling it up. Almost immediately after consuming every crumb, he collapsed, unconscious.
I carefully checked the rat's pulse and breathing, and when it seemed fine, I grinned madly. "Gotcha, you little bastard!" I hissed, before urgently whispering out, "Inky!"
My loyal House Elf popped in, the wards of the Burrow letting his through. This wasn't his first time in the Weasley's lopsided home. He'd come over a few times when I'd been a boy, and playing with the redheads. He was a welcomed guest. And now, he'd be removing an unwanted one.
I gestured to the rat in the cage. "The Draught of Living Death worked. He's unconscious. Transfer him to the Animagus proof cage."
Inky nodded, obeying my orders. He vanished with the comatose traitorous wizard, taking him to a hidden cage I'd set up a few days ago.
Calling it 'Animagus proof' was bit of a misnomer. It was just a regular cage enchanted to shrink with the contents, so no matter how big or small something inside of it got, it wouldn't be able to escape. It could get big enough to contain an elephant, or as small as a fruit fly, so I had no worries about Scabbers, or rather, Peter Pettigrew, escaping. Especially not while he was trapped in a magical coma thanks to my potion-soaked bread.
The mission was a success. Step One of my plan to get him tried as the murderer he was had been completed. Now, for Step Two…
'But that can wait for a bit,' I thought to myself, walking to the bathroom. I washed up my hands before returning to the dining room to get ride of any lingering stench or traces of fur that might've gotten on me.
Tonight was about a fun dinner with friends, and making sure Harry had a wonderful night before he began his Second Year at Hogwarts.
Of course, karma had to be a bitch and balance itself out after my good deed of removing a dangerous fugitive from the Burrow, and less than ten minutes after I returned to the table with washed hands, I found myself completely blindsided when somebody showed up unannounced and out of the blue.
"Good evening, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Albus 'Fuck-Mothering' Dumbledore said as he stepped out of the floo, brushing a bit of soot off his shoulders.
I couldn't help but stare at him, but when Mrs. Weasley let out a surprised gasp I quickly lowered my eyes, not daring to look directly at his own. I wasn't confident enough in my Occlumency, even after training with the Flamels, to successfully avoid having my mind probed.
And yes, I knew Legilimancy wasn't as straightforward as 'look into eyes, read minds,' but I wasn't going to take any chances.
I saw Harry do the same, faster than I had, keeping his gaze focused on his chin, and I mentally applauded his quick reaction.
"Albus! What brings you here?" Mrs. Weasley asked, surprised.
"Please, don't mind me, Molly. I heard that Harry Potter would be here, and I wanted to speak with him about his aunt and uncle," the ancient wizard said genially.
'How the hell did he know that?' I couldn't help but wonder. Did Mrs. Weasley blab? She seemed as surprised as the rest of us, but that didn't mean the Gossip Queen of Ottery St. Catchpole hadn't let it slip at some point, and just hadn't expected Dumbledore to show up.
"Well, come in, come in," Mrs. Weasley said, suddenly all a fluster as she enlarged the table with a wave of her wand, allowing for an extra seat to appear.
Dumbledore sat at the spot opened up for him, smiling at everyone at the table. His appearance had taken everyone aback, but people were calming down. Or doing a good job of hiding it. Though I hadn't missed the flicker of annoyance that danced through Pandora's eyes when he'd appeared, nor that she'd put on a fake smile when it was clear Dumbledore was staying.
I was curious about that, but knew better than to bring it up now. Instead, I just kept my head down and enjoy the food.
"I hope you like Beef Wellington," Mrs. Weasley said, serving the main course to everyone, with floating knives carving the meat.
"Young Harry, have you been enjoying your summer vacation?" Dumbledore inquired.
"It's been alright," Harry shrugged. "Can't wait to go back to Hogwarts, though."
"That's good. It's heartening to hear you're looking forward to another year of learning," Dumbledore said with an indulgent smile.
"Yeah. Even though things got… weird at the end with Mr. Quirrell, I'm looking forward to learning more magic!" Harry said, and he didn't have to fake his enthusiasm for that, at least. He genuinely loved magic, like I did.
"Have you done anything fun these past few months?" Dumbledore wondered.
"Eh, normal stuff, really. Hung out with friends and did my summer homework," Harry said with a shrug.
"Harry went to Paris!" Ginny said.
"Is that so?" Dumbledore hummed. "I didn't know the Dursleys went overseas."
"They didn't," Harry replied. "I went with some other friends."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I went with him," I said, speaking up so Harry didn't have to speak to Dumbledore alone.
"Is that so?" he hummed.
"Yes. I used to tutor Harry back at his school. The one he attended before Hogwarts. I went with Harry to Paris as a guardian. Plus, he needed to get out of that stuffy box his aunt calls a house," I explained.
"A Muggle school?" Dumbledore guessed.
"Correct."
"You must be Erroneous Hunch's eldest son, then," the headmaster realized.
"That's me," I said bitterly. I hated being known as that man's spawn. Why couldn't Dumbledore have said I was Wisteria Hunch's child? My mother was a far better parent and person than the waste of space had ever been. I was fine being known as her son.
"Mr. Hunch, correct?" Dumbledore inquired. "You have a brother… Rudolph? In Slytherin?"
"It's 'Rose,' actually," I said, trying not to sound snippy, but probably failing. "I took my grandmother's name when I moved to the Muggle world. And yes, Rudy's my younger brother."
"I see. Well, Rudolph has been doing well in his classwork, though I do wish he'd try and aim higher in his Charms and Transfiguration lessons. Still, he's settled in well in Slytherin House."
"Oh. Good for him," I said insincerely.
We settled down into a strained silence after that as we tucked into the meal before it got any colder. Small talk continued, and Dumbledore and I chatted with everyone else, but we both didn't bring up Harry after that brief bit at the beginning.
When dinner was done and the last of the dishes were removed (again, by magic), the headmaster wiped his mouth and then looked over at me.
"May I speak with you before I leave?" Dumbledore inquired.
"Sure," I said with a nod. He got up from the table, and I followed him from the dining room into the living room.
He didn't draw his wand, but he didn't have to, as he showed off his mastery of wandless magic when he made a few gestures in the air and I felt the presence of a ward settle around us. Something to keep eavesdroppers out? The fact he'd been able to do so without a foci was incredible, and only made me more wary.
"Mr. Rose, it's very important that Harry Potter stays with his aunt during the summer," Dumbledore told me.
"Why is that?" I asked guilelessly, pretending I didn't know about his crude blood wards.
"Well, it's for his own protection," Dumbledore replied as if it was obvious. "There are people who would want to hurt the poor boy, and the fewer who know of his whereabouts, the better."
"He wouldn't have that problem if you'd arrested all of Voldemort's minions after he bit the dust," I retorted. "Besides, wouldn't a house with magical defenses be a whole lot more protected compared to a Muggle home in the middle of Suburbia?"
"I was under the impression the Dursleys lived in Surrey," Dumbledore mused, amused. "And he is protected. I placed wards around the house and have plenty layers of protection that will keep Young Harry safe."
"If you say so," I replied, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
"I do. Which is why I must ask that you keep your distance from Harry Potter from now on," Dumbledore continued, as if he hadn't heard me speak.
"Beg pardon? You want me to do what?" I uttered in disbelief, aghast at his audacity.
"Harry Potter needs to be safe. And it's for the best if nobody knows where he lives during the summer. I must ask that you allow me to protect Harry Potter. In fact, if you'd submit to a quick Obliviate…"
"No," I said shortly, glaring at the man. The nerve of him! Asking me to abandon Harry like that! And to threaten me with Obliviation?!
"I must insist," Dumbledore said, and I tamped down the urge to glare up at him, in case I accidentally glanced into his eyes.
"Then take it up with Nicholas Flamel," I retorted, catching Dumbledore on the backfoot. "He didn't seem to have a problem with me being close to Harry."
"He… I beg your pardon?" he uttered, bewildered.
"Mr. Flamel sought out Harry when he learned he was in Paris," I said, unable to hide the tiny smirk that crossed my face. "And he was quite impressed by me. By the both of us, really. He praised how Harry handled the situation with that stupid mirror trap of yours. And boy, was he not impressed by how you handled that situation with your rogue Defense teacher. So forgive me if I don't do as you ask."
"My boy…" Dumbledore began, but I cut him off.
"I will protect Harry Potter if it comes down to it," I told him. "Nobody, not even that bald snake, will touch him."
He stared down at me, and I was tempted to take a peek at his eyes. I wanted to know if they were twinkling like all the stories said they did. To get a glimpse at what kind of emotion danced behind his glasses.
But I kept my gaze focused onto the tip of his nose, not willing to risk my Occlumency against his Legilimancy.
I stood my ground, and the tense silence grew. Eventually Dumbledore broke first, turning away and retreating to the fireplace.
'What a wanker,' I thought to myself once he was gone. I had a feeling denying the old man would come back to bite me somehow.
"I'll just have to prepare for anything," I muttered to myself. I was not going to let Harry fall into Dumbledore's web of manipulation. It was time to ramp up potion production, and put my nose to the grindstone regarding my other plans.
Hero or not, Dumbledore was not going to dictate Harry's life, or mine!
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Harry POV
After dinner last night, Harry had been too tired to take the floo or any sort of magical transportation back to the apartment, and so the evening had turned into a sleepover at the Weasleys.
Although he'd been a bit weirded out by Dumbledore's unexpected appearance, Edward had assured Harry he wouldn't be forced to go back to the Dursleys for longer than absolutely necessary to refresh the blood wards that protected him.
Ed had been angry about something, though. He'd tried to hide it, but Harry could read him. A lot better now that the older teen wasn't suppressing his emotions with Occlumency, admittedly, but even then.
Whatever Dumbledore had said to annoy Ed hadn't been repeated, but Harry became more determined than before to keep his distance from the headmaster.
But that was something to worry about for another day. Today was back to school day, and the Hogwarts express waited for nobody!
Edward had come back to the Burrow with Harry's trunk and Hedwig in the morning, and then they all got inside Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglica. How he got a car in the first place Harry could only guess at, but he'd given it some impressive enchantments to allow everyone to fit, as well as expanded the boot's storage capacity.
It was still a bit awkward and cramped, ten people not exactly fitting comfortably into the vehicle, even with magic, but it got the group to King's Cross Station quickly enough. They got there with plenty of time to spare, even though Ron had wasted some time that morning tearing up his room trying to find Scabbers.
In the end, Ron had to leave his pet rat behind. It had snuck out when they'd been sleeping, and probably gotten lost in the garden. Ron seemed put out by that since there wasn't any time to get a new pet before making it to Hogwarts, but luckily, his parents convinced him to stop making a mess by promising to get him something for Christmas, which had the young redheaded boy perk up, and he was in much better spirits when they reached Platform 9 and 3/4th.
"That is one big train," Edward hummed as he looked up at the Hogwarts Express, the gleaming steam engine quite an impressive sight in Harry's opinion.
"It's really nice inside, too," Harry told him.
"I'll bet," Edward agreed. "Are you ready? Got everything you need?"
"Yup!" Harry nodded, holding up Hedwig's cage and trunk.
"In that case, take care, Harry," Edward said, turning down to look at Harry who stood at his side, smiling fondly at the younger boy as he patted his shoulder.
"I will. And you'll be nice to Dobby, right?" Harry requested.
"Of course! He'll have plenty of fun with me. And I won't work him too hard." Edward then turned to Hedwig. "Take care of Harry, Hedwig. I have a feeling he's going to get into trouble."
At that, Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did you use Divination on me?"
Edward simply handed the Boy-Who-Lived a slip of paper. On it, the words 'Beware of Snakes' was written onto it.
"I take it this isn't literal?" Harry wondered. "Or is it referring to Slytherin? Does it have something to do with the Chamber?"
"When I was rolling the bones, 'snake' was something I kept getting, and it was definitely dangerous," Edward said in a low voice. "Mirrors are also going to be important, in a good way."
"Beware of snakes, and mirrors might be helpful… got it!" Harry said with a nod.
"Well, don't worry about it too much. If something does happen, do your best. And aside from that, have fun at school, Harry," Edward said. Harry nodded, then hugged him, which Edward returned.
The Weasleys were wrapping up their farewells, and Edward stepped away to stand beside Mr. Weasley, who'd be driving him back.
Harry went with Ron and the rest of the redheads and boarded the train, finding a compartment for themselves. Hermione and Neville joined them shortly after, and the group took the opportunity to chat and catch up.
The ride to Hogwarts was nice. They met up with the other Gryffindors from their year, and Hannah and Susan greeted the group when the dining cart rolled by.
Even Draco Malfoy passed by their compartment as well at one point, but oddly, at least in Harry opinion, neither Crabbe nor Goyle were with him. The two henchmen had been inseparable from their boss last year, and Harry wondered why Draco didn't have them with him.
But since the wannabe bully didn't bother him or anyone else in the compartment, Harry chose to just ignore him. He had other, better, things to do than think about Draco acting weird after all.
The sky was dark when the train pulled up to Hogsmead station, and the students poured out, Ginny and Luna waving goodbye as they went to join Hagrid and the other First Years.
"Where do we go this year?" Ron wondered as Hannah and Susan joined them, the redhead shivering a bit in the cool night air.
"According to Hogwarts, A History, carriages are supposed to take students to the castle," Hermione helpfully supplied.
"Think those are them?" Harry mused, pointing to a row of carriages that was lined up in the distance near the station's platform. Curiously, there didn't appear to be anything pulling them. But then again, the answer to how they moved was probably 'magic.' Likely a charm was responsible.
Yet as they got closer, one of them seemed a bit uneasy.
"What's wrong, Neville?" Hannah asked, watching the boy flinch at the sight of the carriages.
"Y-you don't see them?" he asked nervously, glancing back and forth.
"See what?" Ron asked.
"Th-the things pulling the carriages!" he exclaimed.
"I don't… Neville, there's nothing pulling the carriages," Hermione said in confusion.
The boy looked confused, and hesitantly approached their transportation up to the castle. When they got closer, Harry curiously reached out to where Neville was staring, and to his shock, felt something boney underneath his hand when he tried to investigate.
"There's definitely something there," Harry muttered, to everyone's surprise.
"Careful, Harry! They've got big teeth!" Neville warned him.
"I don't think they'd have something dangerous pull carriages full of students," Hermione said, trying to reassure the pudgy boy.
"You sure about that?" Harry asked dryly. "This is the place where teachers thought it would be a good idea to hide an incredibly valuable item within reach of children."
"Ah, well, I'm sure last year was just a fluke!" Hermione stammered.
"A sickle says she's wrong and that something will definitely happen this year," Ron whispered to Hannah and Susan. The two Hufflepuffs looked offended on behalf of Hermione, but also tellingly didn't take the bet.
"Come on, let's just get on," Harry suggested, looking around. They were one of the last groups to not board the carriages, most of the other students having already done so.
That got them moving, and the party on got, squeezing into the carriage which whisked them off to the castle.
Unlike last year, as returning students Harry and the gang were dropped off at the front entrance, and it was quite impressive. The ancient portcullis had been raised, and the gates were open, allowing entry to the foyer.
Here, they were funneled into the Great Hall, with the symbols of the four Houses on display above the tables.
Sitting down at their respective tables, they didn't have to wait long before the First Years filed in.
"There's not a lot of 'em," an older Gryffindor muttered. Last year, there'd been fifty-one new students. This year, there were only forty, and half were muggleborn. It was a somber reminder of just how much devastation had been caused by Voldemort's civil war.
Then, before the awe-struck First Year students, the Sorting Hat was brought out by Professor McGonagall, and it began to sing.
Long ago, four folk came together, a dream they all shared.
Four were they that fateful day, who built what none before had dared!
Gryffindor the Brave, with sword sharp and biting.
Slytherin the Cunning, with destiny ill-defined.
Hufflepuff the Welcoming, with tables fit to bursting.
Ravenclaw the Wise, with a restless mind.
And so they created Hogwarts, a place to teach and learn!
A home to all who sought the best of what magic could do!
So here comes a new generation, and one by one in turn
Shall you take your place amongst the most true!
Now I may be just a hat but when I'm worn a mirror I will become,
To reflect your truth and show you the path that you will tread.
So don't be glum, my dear young chum,
And pop me on your head.
Then you'll see where you need to be, and what your future is.
The lyrics were odd, and it wasn't very good. Not to mention Harry's guard was immediately up when it mentioned mirrors, but nobody else seemed to pay much attention to it.
Then McGonagall whipped out a scroll and began to read out names, and the Sorting began.
Luna ended up in Ravenclaw, while Ginny, somewhat unsurprisingly, was sorted into Gryffindor, along with a boy named Colin Creevy whose eyes were so wide Harry was worried they might fall out.
In the end, the houses got a fairly even spread of First Years, with Hufflepuff ending up with twelve new students, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw each getting ten, and Slytherin with a mere eight.
Dumbledore said some words. He reminded students that the Forbidden Forest was still forbidden, and Filch had made a new list of banned objects.
"And last but not least, I'm happy to introduce our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor! Please give a warm welcome to Professor Lockhart!" Dumbledore requested, and a wave of cheering and applause broke out as a young man with wavy blond hair stood up and waved at the crowd from his spot on the teacher's table. The loudest people to welcome the professor were the girls.
"Who's that?" somebody asked, voice almost lost amongst the torrent of noise.
"He's a famous author and adventurer!" an older girl gushed.
"And he's super handsome!" Lavender Brown squealed.
"Hopefully he's better than Quirrell," Dean muttered, to which Harry nodded. He'd read the man's books and hadn't been that impressed with the prose, while Edward had scoffed loudly after flipping through them. Hopefully he taught better than he wrote.
When the girls were finally finished cheering for Professor Lockhart, Dumbledore summoned the feast. Everybody tucked in, cheerfully enjoying the first day back to school.
Then, when it was time to retire for the evening, Harry grinned as they headed up to the tower where the Gryffindor dorm was.
He might be worried about the situation with Edward's divination stuff, but he was excited to be back. Magic was truly amazing, and he was eager to learn more.
Chapter 45: Chapter 45: Knobheads and Broomsticks
Chapter Text
Chapter 45: Knobheads and Broomsticks
Harry POV
Harry was excited as he followed Captain Wood and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team out onto the field. The September air was brisk, but it was refreshing after so many days inside the castle.
Of course, he was mainly excited about flying. Sure, he liked Quidditch, but flying around on a broom was his true passion!
Yet when they approached the training grounds, his eyes narrowed as he spotted a slew of green robes already standing around on the pitch.
"What are they doing here?" Alicia Spinnet wondered aloud, which was heard by the other team.
"Professor Snape gave us permission," Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, declared, leering at Oliver Wood. "We have to get practice with our new brooms and Seeker, after all."
"New Seeker?" Harry asked, glancing at Draco. The Malfoy scion was the only person on the other team Harry didn't recognize from playing against Slytherin last year.
"That's right," Draco said, puffing out his chest. "My father bought the team brand-new racing brooms. Nimbus 2001s. The latest model. Far superior to your dinky old Nimbus 2000, Potter."
The scornful glances the other Slytherins shot at the brooms used by the rest of the House of the Lion were also quite obvious. And rude. Harry didn't like it. It reminded him too much of the Dursleys and how they looked down on their neighbors for purely superficial reasons.
"So, what you're saying is your father bribed the team to include you because you didn't have enough talent to make it on your own merits," Harry said dryly, which made Ron and the twins snort in vicious amusement.
"How dare you!" Draco shouted, turning red.
"What? That's exactly what happened, according to you," Harry replied, folding his arms across his chest. "Seems to be rather lacking in sportsmanship in my eyes."
"It doesn't matter how Malfoy got onto the team," Flint said, stepping in before Mount Draco could explode any further. "He's our new Seeker, and we need to run him through the drills."
"Well, you can do that some other time! I reserved the field for our team to use the day we got back to Hogwarts!" Wood retorted.
"Of course you did," Katie Bell sighed under her breath while rolling her eyes at her captain's obsession.
"Unfortunately for you, Professor Snape gave us written permission to use the field all day today," Flint stated. "So kindly vacate the premises."
"Ooo, big words," George (?) mocked. "Don't you think, George?"
"Indeed, Fred," Fred (?) replied. "I think we need should just start practicing and ignore the snakeys."
"You can't do that!" Draco exclaimed angrily. "Professor Snape said we could have the field today, so we will use it, and not you! Leave!"
"Actually, Professor Snape doesn't have any authority to reserve the pitch solely for your house," Hermione piped up, adding her own two pence to the conversation. "Madam Hooch is in charge of all Quidditch related matters at Hogwarts, and that includes scheduling who has the field and when. Unless you talked with Madam Hooch about this beforehand, then you'd be the ones to have to leave."
The Gryffindor team all nodded judiciously at Hermione's bit of trivia, no doubt learned from Hogwarts, A History, with Wood smirking victoriously at Flint. The Slytherins all scowled at her, annoyed at somebody else butting in and shooting down their arguments with logic. However, Draco Malfoy's face turned red with disdain.
"Shut up! Nobody asked for your opinion, you stupid little Mudblood!" Draco spat at Hermione. She and Harry blinked at the insult, unaware of the context behind it, though able to recognize an insult when uttered, but Ron, Neville, and the Gryffindor team all gasped in shock. Even a couple of the Slytherins seemed taken aback.
Ron in particular turned as red as his hair in anger and drew his wand, pointing it at Draco. Neville did as well, to everyone's surprise, a scowl of his own on his face that matched his red-headed friend's.
Of course, the Slytherins weren't going to let that go without comment, and Draco and two others, along with Crabbe and Goyle, who'd been standing in the background behind the Slytherin team like Ron, Hermione, and Neville had been for Gryffindor's.
In response, Harry and Hermione whipped out their wands, and then the rest of the Gryffindor team did so as well when the remaining Slytherins decided to back up their own house mates.
It had turned into a real Mexican stand-off, nobody willing to be the first to fire a spell, which turned out to be a good thing as somebody spotted what was going on and immediately ran out to intervene.
"Stop!" Madam Hooch shouted, striding out onto the field, her own wand drawn. "Enough! Put away your wands before I start docking points!"
Her sudden arrival broke the tension and the two teams reluctantly stepped back, though the urge to commit violence still lingered.
"What exactly is going on here?" the Quidditch referee demanded, glaring at the students with disappointment. The students hastily put their wands away out of guilt and shame as her gaze swept over them.
"The Slytherins claimed that they had permission to use the pitch from Professor Snape, and were trying to get us to leave," Oliver Wood hastily explained before Flint could try and spin things in his team's favor.
"Draco also called Hermione a Mudblood," Harry added, throwing the silver-blond ponce under the bus. Or broom. Carriage? However the saying went for the magical world.
Madam Hooch hissed through her teeth and leveled a disappointed glare at the Syltherins. "Is this true?"
"No! It's a lie!" Draco protested.
Raising an eyebrow at him, Madam Hooch swiped her wand through the air in a complex pattern, and muttered a spell.
"Verbum Quaerere!" she intoned, before speaking the word "Mudblood" in distaste.
A white glow began to shine from Harry and Draco's mouths a moment later and the latter gasped.
'A spell that detects if a certain word or phrase has been spoken recently? Fascinating!' Harry thought to himself as he stuck his tongue out and stared cross-eyed down at it as it glowed.
"It seems that you've lied to my face, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Hooch said angrily, dismissing the spell as she did so. "Ten points from Slytherin."
She then glared at Marcus Flint. "Mr. Wood claimed Professor Snape gave you permission to use the Quidditch Pitch? Permission he does not have the right to give?" she demanded.
The Slytherin's captain woodenly bobbed his head, reluctantly handing over a slip of parchment with the Potion Professor's signature on it.
"Five points from Slytherin for trying to use the Quidditch pitch without prior permission," Madam Hooch declared sternly as she took the parchment from Flint. "And Twenty-five points from Slytherin for truly abhorrent language!"
The Slytherins all flinched back at the back-to-back loss of House Points, and a few members of the Snake House shot annoyed looks towards Draco. Not even new brooms could excuse the loss of that many points in one sitting, it seemed.
'Or perhaps it was the loss of face that really angered them,' Harry mused. From his – admittedly brief – interactions with the House of the Cunning, the Slytherins operated on a sort of reputation system that determined one's social standing in the dungeons. Loss of points wasn't as bad as the loss of status and the censure it brought to the rest of them.
Given how poorly most other students viewed the Slytherins as a whole, anything that made life harder for them was frowned upon. That didn't stop the snide remarks and bullying, but if caught being done in the open and penalized by a teacher, it would lead to a form of shunning by the rest of the House.
'I wonder how this will affect Draco's influence?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. The Malfoys were one of the most powerful noble houses in Magical Britain and Draco had been coasting on his family's success until now. But with the incident last year with the duel, and now this? Harry genuinely wondered how many Slytherins would continue to openly support him.
In the end, the Slytherin team slunk away, shoulders hunched and heads bowed. Perhaps they'd go train elsewhere. Or maybe they'd hunker down in the dungeons and wait for the scandal to blow over.
Whatever the case, Harry found he couldn't bring himself to care as he mounted his broom and took the air, relishing in the freedom flying brought him.
He'd worry about Draco and any foolish attempts at revenge later. For now, it was time to put up with Woods' crazy training ideas.
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
"What a knobhead!" Ron exclaimed in disgust at dinner that night as he glared across the hall at the Slytherin table, still utterly disgusted with Draco's behavior.
Hermione was noticeably absent from the table, but so were the other Second Year Gryffindor girls. Harry had a feeling they'd heard about it and were consoling the bushy-haired bookworm up in the dorms. She'd looked up what the word 'Mudblood' meant after the fact, and it had hurt her badly when she learned what it was.
'Thank God she has friends to care for her,' Harry thought to himself.
"Language!" Percy scolded his younger brother, though it was without any real feeling behind it. More automatic than anything.
"Malfoy called Hermione a, a, well, a bad name! He deserves it!" Ron replied, furiously stabbing his Beef Wellington. Neville nodded, an angry scowl on his face. "And he has to gall to cheat by getting the Slytherins all newer, better brooms? I call it like I see it!"
"Is that even allowed?" Harry asked. "The buying his team better brooms to bribe his way onto the team thing, not the slur thing."
"Yeah, real shady what he did," one of the twins agreed.
"But, technically, not illegal. Wood checked," the other twin replied. "Just like it's not illegal to use a school broom instead of your own for Quidditch matches."
"Huh," Harry said slowly, an idea forming in his head. "I think I need to send a letter after dinner."
Excusing himself early, Harry made his way up to the owlery, pen and paper in hand. He still hadn't gotten used to quills or parchment, yet. Thankfully, most teachers didn't seem to care if he took notes or did minor assignments with a pen. As long as he turned them in and did the work, they were alright with it. Snape being the main exception. But Harry had long ago decided to not care what the bitter old bat in the dungeon thought of him.
"Hey, Hedwig," he said in greeting as his beautiful girl came swooping down to him as soon as he entered the tower full of owls. "I need to send a letter to Ed."
She barked in understanding, and Harry hastily scribbled out his request and then tied it to her leg. She then took off, flying away into the night.
Then, at breakfast the next morning, she returned, extending a leg with a reply on it.
"That was fast," Harry said as he accepted it. As he fed her some sausage as a reward, he read Edward's response.
'Dear Harry, glad to hear things have been going alright so far over at Hogwarts. As for your request, of course! I've heard the brooms used by the school are decades out of date in some cases. That doesn't sound very safe to me so I'll go ahead and get it done. Don't worry about repaying me for this, either. I'll just write it off as a charitable donation on my taxes this year. Pretty sure my accountant can swing that. Anyways, expect them around next week or so! Take care!'
Harry grinned widely when he was done, which naturally caught the attention of his friends.
"What's with that grin?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Nothing, just some good news," Harry replied as he tucked the letter away. None of his friends believed him, but they let it drop for the moment.
Waiting for his plan to come into play wasn't all that fun, but thankfully the days passed in a blur as he got into the routine of schoolwork and studies.
Then, a week after he'd sent his letter to Edward, an owl carrying a large mail pouch flew into the Great Hall one morning, and landed in front of Madam Hooch at the teacher's table.
Curious, Harry watched eagerly as she accepted the pouch from the owl and signed something before handing it back, which the delivery owl took and then flew off with.
Then, Madam Hooch opened the pouch, and proceeded to gasp when she pulled out a brand-new broom from within. And not just any broom, but a Nimbus 2000, the same kind as Harry's!
But that wasn't the only one. With shaking hands, the flying instructor took out another Nimbus 2000. And then another. And another. Soon, other students noticed, and the Great Hall went absolutely silent as everyone watched with dropped jaws as thirty brand-new Nimbus 2000 racing brooms were taken out of the pouch and stacked up onto the table in a big pile.
Slowly, Madam Hooch took out one last item. A letter. She opened it, and as she read it, her eyes widened. Then, she looked up, and caught Harry's gaze.
"M-Mr. Potter?" she called out, stuttering a bit. "C-can you explain why it says here you bought thirty new brooms and are donating them all to Hogwarts?"
Heads immediately snapped towards him from all over the Great Hall. Everyone stared in disbelief, and Harry smoothly rose up from his seat, and cleared his throat while also working hard to keep his surprise in check.
"I remember my flying lessons from last year, and how none of the brooms were very good," he began. "And then, just last week, the Slytherin Quidditch team obtained seven new brooms. Now, I didn't think that was very fair for them to have the latest model of racing broom while the other teams had to use their older ones. So, I figured what better way to resolve this issue than to buy some new brooms. Not just for Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw to use as well."
He then inclined his head apologetically towards Madam Hooch. "I'm afraid they're only last year's models, though. I'm just a kid, and buying thirty Nimbus 2001s was simply too expensive for me at the time, so I had to settle for the Nimbus 2000s. Still, I think that after a bit of training with them, everyone will be able to get used to them in time for their first Quidditch match of the year."
"That's why I'm donating these thirty brooms to Hogwarts," Harry concluded, aware of how everyone was hanging onto his words. "They are to be used as the school sees fit, but I would appreciate it if anybody, especially the Quidditch teams, would be able to freely borrow and use them for games if needed."
'And I'm definitely reimbursing Ed for this!' he thought to himself. 'I just told him to buy a couple of better brooms for the school, not a whole bunch of Nimbuses!'
For a moment, there was just stunned silence. It was broken by a loud, "ONE HUNDRED POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!" from Madam Hooch. This immediately opened the floodgates, and the Great Hall erupted in applause and cheering.
Harry was grabbed by the Weasley twins and then hoisted him into the air before being paraded around on their shoulders while Wood sobbed gleefully and shouted something about organizing new training regimens. The chasers gushed and thanked him, and the captains from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff both came over with their own effusive thanks, shaking his hands and patting his shoulders.
Heck, even some of the Slytherins were clapping, although their mood seemed to be more impressed by Harry's cunning play and reveal than anything else. And a quick glance at Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team revealed that their expressions had turned livid.
But there was also a hint of fear and disbelief on Draco's face. After all, he'd bragged how it had been his father who'd bought his team seven new brooms. Yet here Harry was, casually claiming to having purchased thirty brooms for everyone in Hogwarts to use. And while they were admittedly less expensive, it wasn't by much as they were still top-quality racing brooms costing upwards of several hundred galleons each.
The incredible advantage the Slytherin team had previously possessed was now gone. Sure, their brooms were slightly better, but as Harry had said, skill and talent could really make the difference between a good Quidditch player and a bad one. Didn't matter how expensive your tool was if you couldn't actually use it properly.
'Well, they can stew in their anger all they want,' Harry thought, ignoring the House of the Ambitious for the moment and instead focusing on his friends and admirers.
As he was thanked by what felt like the entirety of three houses for his generosity, Harry completely missed the look of loathing Snape sent his way, nor the calculating gleams in Dumbledore and Lockhart's eyes.
Only time would tell what would come from any of it, though.
Chapter 46: Chapter 46: The Crucible
Chapter Text
Chapter 46: The Crucible
'I hope Harry's ride to Hogwarts is going well,' I thought to myself as I entered my apartment.
After dropping off the kids, Mr. Weasley had kindly taken me back to my apartment. I'd offered him a cup of tea and to show him around the place, but he'd declined. As much as he wanted to see how Muggles lived, he still had work to do. The day kids rode the Hogwarts express was technically a Ministry holiday, but unfortunately he'd needed to go in and deal with a rogue cursed toilet.
Glancing about, the place felt empty, and I felt a bit depressed at being alone once more. I'd really enjoyed having Harry around. It was nice. It reminded me of having a little brother. One who actually liked me.
'No time to think about that,' I thought to myself, shaking my head and clearing away the morbid thoughts. Rather than dwell on things beyond my control, I delved into something else I was capable of. Planning for Voldemort's return.
I had money thanks to my business and successful bet. Not to mention I was posed to make a fortune by short charging the pound when it collapsed later in the month. Now, I needed some muscle. Voldemort wouldn't be beaten with gold alone. I would require combatants to fight him. More effective than the ones Dumbledore assembled, at the very least.
So, what could I do? How could I justify having armed men around? Or even explain why I was buying weapons?
The answer had come to me a while ago while thinking about it. A security company! Pen in hand, I scribbled out a few words onto a napkin.
"Crucible Security Solutions," I muttered a moment later as I read aloud the name I'd written down.
I was going to establish my own security firm. And they would have to be people who knew about the magical world if I wanted to use them against Voldemort. Squibs, obviously, but perhaps some Muggleborn? I'd need magical expertise if I wanted to protect myself in both worlds.
"And I think I know where to start looking for my first recruit," I mused to myself, resisting the urge to laugh like a villain.
First things first, though! I had a contract to write up!
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
Several days later, and I was at a café in London, waiting for the man I truly hoped would show up. I'd sent him an owl with a letter stating I wanted to hire him, and he'd agreed to meet me here.
I'd gotten there a bit early, and was anxiously awaiting his arrival. Finally, after ten long minutes, I spotted him enter. Scruffy, tired, and wearing a brown jacket that'd seen better days, I waved at the man, causing him to approach the booth in the far corner I was sitting at.
"Remus Lupin?" I inquired when he walked over, and the man nodded at me slowly.
"Correct. You must be Edward Rose," he said, and stuck his hand out to shake it. I took it without hesitation, giving it a solid pump.
"Yes, that's me," I replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. He did so, albeit with a wary glint in his eyes.
The werewolf (not that he knew that I knew) was clearly suspicious of me, and to be fair, asking to meet with somebody out of the blue for a job interview was somewhat strange.
"How did you learn about me?" he inquired.
"I asked a family friend for any references regarding people suited to the line of work I'm inquiring about," I said. "You may know him. Arthur Weasley."
His eyes lit up at that, and I hid a grin. I actually had asked Arthur Weasley for any information he might have about a wizard who needed work and wasn't afraid of getting a little dirty for it. A bit of extra nudging and dropping hints had led him to mentioning Remus Lupin.
'This way, if he follows up and asks Mr. Weasley about my claim, it will technically be the truth,' I thought to myself.
"Hmm. Did he mention… about my problem?" he asked hesitantly.
"I am aware of your lunar issue, yes," I confirmed. That seemed to make him relax a bit.
"What exactly is this job you want to hire me for?" Lupin inquired.
"Before that, could you put up some Sound and Muggle Repelling charms? I don't want to be eavesdropped on, since this conversation is about magic," I said first, and he frowned at me.
"And why can't you do it?"
"I'm afraid I can't. I'm a Squib," I replied bluntly. To my surprise, the flicker of pity every other magical adult gained when I said that was absent from Mr. Lupin. If anything, he seemed sympathetic and understanding, and raised a few charms around the booth after discreetly taking out his wand.
"Now, what exactly do you want?" Lupin asked. "What does this job entail?"
"I'd like to hire you to be part of a security force I'm putting together to protect my business interests, both within the Wizarding World and the Muggle one," I explained. "Having a mage on the payroll would make protecting things a lot easier."
Lupin raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't otherwise react negatively, so I continued on. "I hope to hire others who know about the magical side. I already have a couple other Squibs working for me, as well as the parents of a few Muggleborn students alongside Muggle spouses of magical couples. Right now, though, you'd be the first wizard to work for me."
"I see. What exactly do you do that requires magical protection?" Lupin inquired. He had a great poker face. I had no idea what his thoughts were.
"I make these," I said, taking out a bottle of Wiggenweld Cream for him to examine. It was put in a green plastic container with Cauldron's label on one side, and the Yggsdrasil symbol on the other.
Lupin took it, sniffing it curiously. "Is this magic?" he uttered in surprise. "Some sort of potion turned into a balm?"
"Good nose," I praised. "I manufacture and sell potions in the Muggle world."
"Is that legal?" he asked suspiciously.
"I used non-magical ingredients," I said, deflecting the question. "And everyone who made it knows about magic as well."
"Yes, but selling this to Muggles…" Lupin trailed off.
"There are no laws that state I cannot sell things to Muggles," I pointed out. And I had checked. Thoroughly. The ancient laws hadn't had anything against it, and the modern rules simply focused on those in the know keeping unaware Muggles from finding out about magic.
In fact, it seemed as though modern mages all assumed nobody would even consider selling magical goods to ordinary people and that the Statute of Secrecy would completely prevent any leaks. Thus, as long as I didn't explicitly inform my customers my products were magical, I was covered by the letter of the law, if not the spirit.
Still, Lupin seemed uncomfortable with it. I wasn't really surprised. He was a man with Lycanthropy. Being shunned by both sides for his condition meant he was unable to hold down a job for long in either world, and if the Aurors ever found out he was involved in something that skirted the law like my own business venture did… well, Umbridge was in power and pushing through a lot of discriminatory legislation against non-humans. I wouldn't put it past the Ministry to arrest Lupin and give him a one-way ticket to Azkaban without a trial.
"Thank you for your offer, but I'm afraid this won't work out for me," he replied with a resigned sigh.
"Would you reconsider if I said you could see Harry Potter again if you accepted my offer?" I counter-offered. I grinned a bit as I watched the werewolf's eyes widen in shock, before narrowing in anger.
"What did you-?" he began, his voice a low growl, but I held up a hand to stall him.
"I am a friend of his. After Dumbledore left him on his aunt's doorstep, I became one of the few people young Harry could trust," I told him, up front about our relationship.
Lupin paled at my mention of Harry's Aunt Petunia. Clearly, he knew the horse-faced bint well, even if only by reputation.
"He did what?" he whispered in horror.
"Dumbledore left Harry Potter in the care of the Dursleys," I confirmed, an expression of displeasure flickering across my face as I spoke. "On their doorstep, in the middle of fall, with only a letter to explain everything."
"But, James and Lily's will said…" Lupin mumbled. "Dumbledore promised…"
"Dumbledore has said and done a lot of things that, quite frankly, are horrifically suspicious and not in line with keeping anybody safe, let alone a child," I said frankly. "Did you know he tried to bait Voldemort into attacking Hogwarts last year?"
The former Marauder flinched at my mention of that noseless bastard, but immediately tried to deny it.
"That's impossible! He's dead!" Lupin hissed at me.
"No. He's not. I wouldn't exactly call him 'living' either, but Voldemort is far from truly dead. He cheated death somehow, and came back as a specter that possessed Professor Quirrell."
"How?" Lupin demanded.
"Do you know what a Horcrux is?" I wondered, and the man shook his head. "Well, let me explain. It's an obscure bit of magic, and as Dark as they come. You basically rip a piece of your soul away and imbue it into an object so that even if your body perishes, your soul lingers, allowing you to potentially resurrect. Usually via possession, but there are other methods."
Lupin stared at me in horror, just as disgusted as I was by this vile ritual. "To make a Horcrux is… abominable. You must commit murder. And not just any murder, but a murder of an innocent soul. Like, say, a baby," I continued and his eyes lit up in realization.
"Harry!" Lupin gasped, and I nodded.
"Indeed. Thankfully, his damned ritual failed, but he still clings to life somehow as a disembodied spirit," I revealed.
"But isn't it possible that You-Know-Who failed to create a Horcrux?" Lupin wondered desperately. "Harry is still alive, after all!"
"Maybe. But the Killing Curse rips the soul from a person's body, it doesn't vaporize it," I retorted. "And Voldy's body was never found. So whatever happened to him… well, we could assume that the protection ritual Lily Potter used managed to eliminate the Dark Bastard… yet the fact he managed to possess Professor Quirrell tells me he created at least one Horcrux before he came after the Potters."
Remus Lupin sagged, the life seemingly fleeing his body at the realization that Voldemort was not dead. The murderer of his closest friends remained at large, and had even gone after their son at Hogwarts, purportedly one of the safest places in the world for children? It was all too much to process.
"Let me be honest with you, Mr. Lupin. I need you. I need a man, a wizard, of your talents, to become part of the foundation of a group I am trying to create. A security organization that will, publicly, offer protection for my business interests. In truth, however, it will be a group dedicated to protecting the world from Voldemort when he inevitably returns. And he will. Trust me. You can join me, Mr. Lupin, and help save Harry Potter's life. Save countless lives," I urged, pressing my point and hoping to convince him to work with me.
"I-I need time," he muttered, a dazed expression on his face.
"I can't allow that," I replied and he looked up at me sharply. "This is a one-time offer. You must make your decision now. If you refuse, it won't come again anytime soon."
"Why?" Lupin demanded.
"Because I do not trust that bearded tosser with Harry's safety!" I snarled at him. "I do not trust Dumbledore's motives at all, and if I let you leave to think my offer over, you will go running to him, and he will learn about me."
"Why don't you trust Dumbledore? He's a great man!" Lupin protested.
"I don't deny that. But when we spoke this summer, after he found out I'd rescued Harry from his abusive relative's clutches for a short trip to France… well, let's just say a lot of his arguments make no sense to me."
"Maybe I'm just paranoid," I admitted after a moment of tense silence. "But I just can't bring myself to trust a man who willingly and knowingly set up a series of trials that would have culminated in Harry having to fight Voldemort in the bowels of the school over a shiny rock."
"He did what?" Lupin asked, aghast, and I nodded.
"Dumbledore had the Philosopher's Stone hidden away in Hogwarts behind several different 'traps.' All of which were capable of being overcome by a group of First-Year students. Now, I'll admit some of them are a lot brighter and further ahead curriculum wise than it would seem at first glance, but still. No wards, defenses, or barriers that would keep even the least trained Auror out, let alone a man as powerful as Voldemort."
I shuddered at that. The trials had been child's play. Literally, in McGonagall's case!
'Thank whatever gods exist that events happened differently this time,' I thought, relieved that Harry had been smart enough to not go rushing into danger, but also scared that he'd still come so close to Voldemort in the end.
I wasn't impressed by Dumbledore's planning, needless to say, and Lupin seemed to be taken aback by it.
"That's… I'll admit, that circumstances are a bit suspect…" he began, but I cut him off.
"If you want more evidence of what I believe to be foul play on Dumbledore's behalf, let's just look at the defenses he put around the Potters," I said. "A Fidelius Charm requires three people. One to cast the spell. One to possess something worth keeping a secret to act as the spell's anchor. And last but not least, one person to become the Secret Keeper. Tell me, Mr. Lupin, who was the Potter's Secret Keeper?"
"Sirius Black," Lupin grit out through clenched teeth.
"And who cast the Fidelius?"
"It was… Dumbledore," he said after a moment of wracking his brain for the information.
"Are you sure?" I pressed.
"Yes. You're right, you need three people for a Fidelius Charm to work, and the person who casts the actual spell itself needs to be quite strong, because it's a very complex and power-intensive piece of magic. Far more so than James, Lily, or Sirius could have been able to do at the drop of a hat. It would take somebody like Dumbledore to cast it properly without worry."
"Exactly!" I crowed. There was a reason why the Fidelius Charm wasn't used willy-nilly in the Magical World to hide things. It was a ludicrously difficult enchantment, with maybe a dozen people in all of Magical Britain able to cast it properly. "Now, there is a chance that it didn't happen that way. But if it did… that would mean Dumbledore knew Sirius Black wasn't the traitor."
"WHAT?!" Lupin snarled, glaring at me with baleful eyes. "What do you mean by that?!"
"Sirius Black was not the Secret Keeper. Peter Pettigrew was," I told him.
"Impossible!" Lupin uttered. "They would have told me if they switched it!"
"Would they? Leaving aside the fact it makes decent tactical sense to switch things up to make the real target safer and mislead people into thinking somebody else had the information they sought, well… werewolves had joined Voldemort's cause. Sure, he was likely going to betray them afterwards, but he was offering vengeance for generations of discrimination and abuse. Why wouldn't they join him at the time for a moment of delicious revenge? And with yourself being a werewolf…"
"…it would make me untrustworthy in their eyes," Lupin finished, expression broken as all the anger left him at the realization.
"Yes, the Order, most likely on the orders of Dumbledore, didn't want to keep you in the loop for that reason. And also, if I suspect this was the case, he didn't want too many witnesses to know the truth," I said.
"How… how do you know all this?" Lupin asked in disbelief.
"I have a passion and talent for Divination," I said, using my cover excuse for my meta-knowledge. "Potions isn't the only discipline Squibs like myself can excel at."
He looked at me blankly, clearly not believing me, but that was fine. If he was suspicious of me, then he'd be wary of Dumbledore as well, at the very least.
"If this is all true… then why did Sirius Black kill Peter instead of going to us about what had happened?" Lupin demanded.
"Well, first off, this is all speculation, but grief hits hard, and it affects people in different ways. Some try and get drunk, others try and murder the ones responsible," I said with a shrug. "Secondly… Peter isn't dead."
Lupin looked as if he wanted to explode again, but held off. "Beg your pardon?" he uttered instead after breathing in and out rapidly.
"You wanted to know if I was telling the truth? Well, consider this my proof," I said, before snapping my fingers. "Inky. The cage, if you please."
My loyal House Elf popped in, carrying the enchanted size-changing cage I'd stuffed Scabbers into.
Upon seeing the unconscious rat, and the missing toe from its front left paw, Lupin's jaw dropped. It appeared he recognized the Animagus despite several years apart.
"He's drugged with Draught of Living Death, and has a special binding collar around his neck to let me track him if he does escape. Plus, the cage will change size if he tries to transform and break out. Do you wish to undo his transformation to check?" I inquired.
"No. Even after more than a decade, I remember exactly what Peter's Animagus form looked like," Lupin said, shaking slightly. Out of anger or betrayal, I wasn't sure. Maybe both!
"Well, there you have it. Proof," I said, feeling a bit smug. I snapped my fingers again and let Inky take the cage away.
After a couple minutes of taking deep breaths, Lupin finally calmed down, and he looked me straight in the eye. "You said you had a job for me?"
I withdrew a stack of paper from my bag, and laid it in front of the werewolf. "This is a magical contract. Signing it will bind you to the conditions within. If you agree, you will become the first member of Crucible Security Solutions. Publicly, you will be a security guard for my business properties and my employees. Behind the scenes, you will be helping me prepare to fend off Voldemort when he returns. And he will, I can assure you of this."
"I see," Lupin muttered as he leafed through the contract. "I get paid sick leave?"
"Yes, you get a minimum of twenty-one days of paid sick leave per year. These are for your little monthly furry problem and any other medical issues that pop up that a potion or spell can't fix," I told him. "I will also provide doses of Wolfsbane Potion."
"You can brew it?" he asked, surprised.
"Indeed. It's a bit finicky, and the ingredients can be expensive, especially the powdered silver, but it's worth it to me. Although I will probably try and get you to experiment with some alternative versions of the potion. Just because I can afford to make it on a monthly basis doesn't mean I don't want to find a cheaper and easier way to do so."
"Will I be able to see Harry if I sign?" the werewolf asked hesitantly.
"Absolutely," I assured him.
"And you'll also try and save Sirius if I agree to this?" Lupin asked hopefully as he took up the quill.
"I would have done so even if you didn't. But this just makes it easier," I replied.
Lupin nodded, then signed the contract on the dotted line. There was a static-charged hum as the ink of the parchment glowed, and I knew the Oath Binding Ink I'd made had worked.
"So, what now?" Lupin asked as he put the quill down and looked at me with hope and determination in his eyes.
"First things first. we're going to help break Sirius Black out of Azkaban," I told him with a smile. Lupin blanched.
"We are?"
"Yes. I believe Dumbledore knew all along Black was innocent, but kept him locked up in Azkaban for his own purposes. I don't know why, but I suspect it'd be to do with the Godfather status he has with Harry," I mused.
In the magical world, being a Godfather wasn't as magically potent as in some fanfics, but it had some effect, and it did give some leeway when it came to legal matters such as guardianship. Meaning Sirius could have adopted Harry, or at the very least raised him, in the aftermath of the Potters' deaths. Something Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted at all, if my suspicions about him and his goals were correct.
"Now, knowing this fact, trying to appeal to the court system won't exactly work, since Dumbledore is Supreme Mugwump. And while I have some connections in Magical Law Enforcement, I don't want to use them just yet, lest Dumbledore be alerted. We need Sirius Black to escape first, then I can contact Madam Bones to have her look up Sirius' trial. Or lack thereof."
"Ah, use her desire for justice to find Sirius for the sake of finding out the truth," Lupin hummed thoughtfully. "Clever. But can you really get into contact with her so easily?"
"Harry is friends with her niece," I explained. "And I can use that connection to get to Madam Bones."
"That would do it," Lupin said. He then frowned thoughtfully. "How exactly are we going to do this?"
"Simple. We won't do the actual breaking out. We'll just convince Sirius Black to do it for us," I told him.
"What?" he uttered.
"Oh, yes. Did you know that Dementors don't affect animals? Or at least, not as badly as humans."
Lupin blinked slowly, then his jaw dropped as he stared at me in disbelief. "You don't mean… he could have left at any time?!"
"Well, maybe not whenever he wanted, but yeah, Sirius Black could have snuck out as a dog. In fact, I'll wager that's how he's managed to keep his sanity. Err, most of it, at least. Stay as a dog except when the human guards are around, and the Dementors cannot suck the love out of him," I said.
"I should be asking how you know he was an Animagus, same as Peter, but I don't think I'll get a straight answer," Lupin muttered, mostly to himself. He then sighed, before nodding. "Okay, I see the plan, now. You want me to convince him to escape on his own, is that right? But how will we do that? They don't allow visitors to the prison!"
"Not as simple, but still doable. If the Dementor's ignore animals, why not take advantage of that weakness?" I asked.
"But there's an anti-owl ward around the island," Lupin pointed out. "As well as Anti-Apparition and portkey prevention wards. Not to mention it's Unplottable."
"Yes, anti-owl. But what if we use something else? Something that isn't even a bird at all?" I asked, and Lupin blinked at me in confusion.
"What did you have in mind?"
The smile I gave him in response was nice and wide and full of teeth, and I savored the flinch he made. "Ever heard of Project X-Ray?"
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
The plan was simple. If owls and other avians couldn't reach Azkaban, why not try a different animal? Like, say, a bat?
It wasn't going to be easy. Bats weren't as magically attuned as owls were, nor as easily trainable, but there were ways around those issues.
Looking up the enchantment that was placed on owls so they could be used to deliver mail had been easy. I'd just bribed a clerk at the pet shop in Diagon Alley and he taught it to me and Lupin.
Attaching it to a bat was also very easy. Bat wings and other parts had been used in potions for ages, and bats themselves, while not as magical as owls, were probably the second most magical mundane flying species in the world.
The hard part of the plan to free Sirius Black was finding the proper kind of bat to attach it to. The most common breed of bat in Great Britain was the Common Pipistrelle. It was, however, way too small to act as a courier, weighing only five grams.
In the end, Lupin and I went with the Noctule Bat, the largest bat in the UK. It was pretty common, and could be found almost anywhere in woodlands within Wales and England, as well as parts of Scotland, though was absent in Ireland. It was also just barely big and strong enough to carry a letter. Wouldn't be able to handle a package like a delivery owl could, not even with a weightless charm on it, but a single letter was fine.
Obviously, we tested to make sure bats were unaffected by the owl and bird repelling wards, and it seemed we had found a loophole, just as I'd hoped.
I briefly worried that maybe Azkaban had wards to prevent flying altogether, but dismissed it. If it did, it would interfere with the Dementors. Although they technically 'floated' more than 'flew.' Still, I hoped the ward schemes weren't that restrictive.
And so, after a month and a half of hard work, a few warming charms alongside a helpful anti-owl charm to keep predators away, and Wiggles von Snubs the messenger bat was dispatched to find Sirius at Azkaban.
"Will it work?" Lupin asked me as we bobbed in a boat we'd rented and rowed out into the middle of the North Atlantic to make it easier for Wiggles to make it to his destination.
"We just gotta have faith," I replied. "We did all we could. Now we just wait."
Lupin nodded, not exactly thrilled, but he knew like I did that there wasn't much else to do.
"Well, let's get back to port. It's way too cold out here," I suggested, shivering a bit as a chilly wind blew past, stirring up choppy waves.
"Yes," Lupin agreed. He turned on the motor and we returned to shore. And I didn't need to use Divination to know some hot chocolate was in our future.
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
Sirius Black POV
Another day, another bloody chance to listen to the screams of the damned that seemed to constantly echo through the prison. Worse, it was getting colder. Not that Azkaban could ever be considered warm, what with the soul-sucking monsters guarding the place, but when autumn and winter rolled around, the prison-island got even colder. Never quite cold enough to allow the prisoners to freeze to death, the wardens weren't that cruel and careless, but even as a dog it was horrible.
He often had to take off his clothes before transforming into his hound form, and then use those scraps of cloth as an extra layer of protection against the chill. That meant he was often naked when the human guards wandered by to check on him, but that reinforced the Aurors' belief he was insane.
'And maybe I am,' the last Scion of the House of Black thought to himself as he lay on the floor in his Animagus form. 'Maybe I am crazy. Why else would I be seeing a bat flying around my cell?'
Because it was there. A cute little critter, with a fuzzy face, going in circles around the ceiling after flying in through the barred window. Well, calling it a window was generous. It was too small to stick his head through, even as a dog, and the thick iron bars had spells on them to alert the guards if he touched them. Not that he could, it being too high to reach even if he piled up all of the stuff in his cell and then stood on it.
Looking up at the bat, Sirius' dog instincts wanted him to chase it and bark at it, but he managed to clamp down on those thoughts.
'Poor thing looks confused,' Sirius mused, watching it. He was glad it hadn't flown into a different cell. The prisoners nearby, including his 'darling' cousin Bellatrix, would have tried to catch and eat it. Raw bat was probably tastier than the gruel they served. Meatier, too.
Not him, tempting as it was. Bats were too cute to treat that way. He'd always liked bats. Wanted one as a pet instead of an owl, but his parents had said no. Couple of killjoys.
After a bit, he decided to sit up, and morphed back into a human. 'Maybe if I catch it I can set it free,' he thought hopefully.
Yet when he did so, the bat suddenly stop circling and divebombed him, flying right into his lap.
"Huh, okay?" he muttered, surprised as he tentatively stroked its chest. This was nice… but then he noticed the letter tied to its leg.
"What the-?" he uttered, perplexed. Cautiously, he undid the piece of wire binding the slip of parchment, freeing the letter, and after a moment of hesitation, unrolled it.
'Padfoot, Wormtail is still alive. Captured him and discovered the truth of what happened that night. I know you are innocent. Prongs Jr. is also alive, but so is the Bald Snake. We can get you a trial, but only if you escape Azkaban. Old Man not to be trusted. Moony.
PS, the bat is named Wiggles von Snub. Not sure if the enchantment will work, but if it does, it should allow him to lead you to me. See you soon.'
Sirius stared at the tiny writing scrawled onto the slip of parchment, eyes growing wide as he read and reread it. For a moment he forgot to breath, and it was only when the bat – Wiggles von Snub – began to cuddle with him for warmth did he remember to suck in air.
'Is this a joke?' he wondered. But the names… only four people in the world knew them. And two of them were supposed to be dead. If it was true…
Sirius threw his head back and began to howl with laughter, the sound tinged with madness, regret, but also, for the first time in years, hope.
He then crumpled up the letter and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing it up and swallowing it to destroy the evidence. He then looked down at the piece of wire in his hand, and the bat in his lap.
'Thank Merlin I begged Lily to get me that book on lockpicking for Christmas all those years ago,' he thought to himself, using Occlumency to dredge up long-forgotten memories.
It had been a long time since he'd used the mental art. It wasn't safe to do so in Azkaban, where even the slightest glimmer of positive emotion was like a beacon for the Dementors. Trying to retreat into your memories to escape the unholy guardians of the prison was risky. Either the Dementors sucked out all of your happy memories to the point not even Occlumency could recover them, or you got trapped inside the bad ones, unable to escape due to a lack of will power.
In fact, he'd have to hurry up, as his own moment of madness-tinged hopeful laughter would have attracted the specters. Quickly, he bent the wire into a new shape using the knowledge he'd hastily recalled reading one time, then stuck the makeshift lockpick into his mouth. He then transformed back into a dog just in the nick of time as several of the floating black robes began to approach, turning the area bitterly and unnaturally cold.
Wiggles began to shiver, but Sirius tucked the tiny bat into his side to keep him warm, which calmed him down. Together, they would wait for a chance to escape.
Chapter 47: Chapter 47: Death Days
Chapter Text
Chapter 47: Death Days
As I put away the dishes after a nice and simple pasta dinner, I couldn't help but worry about the lack of news regarding my most recent scheme. It'd been a week since Remus Lupin and I had sent the messenger bat to Sirius Black, and so far, there was no word. Had Wiggles made it? Did the spells work?
There was no way to know, and nothing else to do but wait, as much as it grated. I didn't know the first thing about escaping a prison, let alone one like Azkaban. The island was as much a place to keep the Dementors in check as it was to punish criminals.
The history of Azkaban was an odd one. It had been the home of a mad Dark Lord named Ekrizdis in the 15th century, and after his death, it was discovered to have a major infestation of Dementors. And, in yet another stunning display of incompetence, the British Ministry of Magic decided to use it to hold their criminals.
See, Dementors were an ancient evil, with records dating back to Ancient Sumer describing these abominations. They mainly tended to roam colder reaches where their unearthly chill would be harder to detect by their prey, but they could live anywhere. They were known as Djinn in the Middle East, and they were the inspiration for the Grim Reaper in Europe. Nobody was certain how the Lethifolds of South America were related to them, but all sorts of academic papers had been written on the subject.
Including by Nicholas Flamel. His journal had a lot of info on Dementors, including how to eliminate them. Despite what the Ministry told people, there were ways to destroy these soul-eating pests. Magic was capable of anything, after all.
But these methods weren't easy to use, with only the most powerful spells and rituals able to harm them. Dementors were also originally solitary predators that reproduced by ingesting souls and then spitting out a copy of themselves so the majority of methods to deal with Dementors were meant for a single target. And due to their threat, they were supposed to be eliminated on the spot if discovered.
By the start of the 15th century, the Dementor population had dwindled to less than a hundred world-wide, before they all mysteriously vanished. So it was a nasty shock to find they had all somehow gathered at Azkaban without anyone noticing. Worse, there were around a thousand lurking on the island. They'd begun reproducing, using the island as a sort of nest to avoid the prying eyes of wizarding kind while stealing sailors. The Ministry of Magic had sealed it off, but that was only delaying the problem.
Desperate to contain the threat, but not willing to spend the resources to finally eliminate this unnatural species or loss face from the international community, the Minister of Magic at the time made the idiotic choice to cut a deal with the monsters.
Thus, in 1703, the Ministry foolishly turned the island into a prison as a way to keep the last known Dementors in the world out of the way in compliance with the recently implemented Statute of Secrecy.
Shaking my head at the stupidity of the magical world, I turned my mind to another topic: school. Classes at Oxford had begun, and I was slowly getting back into the rhythm. Attend class, turn in projects I lamented the loss of time for my side businesses and strongly considered finding a way to get my hands on a Time Turner just to keep up.
'At least with Inky at my side, I can appear at the Oxford campus in mere seconds, meaning I'll never be late for class unless I wanted to be,' I thought with a chuckle.
Yet out of the blue, there was a knock at the door which distracted me, and I turned to it, surprised. Who would be trying to contact me this late at night? Halloween wasn't until tomorrow!
"Um, hello?" I said as I answered the door.
"Good evening, Mr. Rose," an elderly man with old, weathered features and a beard that you could lose an entire meal in said in greeting. He was dressed in a formal black suit and tie combo, but also had a dark blue mantle over his shoulders.
"Evening," I said slowly. This man seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place it…
"My name is Mr. Winkle," he said.
"Winkle? Are you related to Old Barry Winkle? One of the oldest men alive?" I asked in surprise.
"I am indeed he. Wee Willy Winkle, at your service," he said with a grin, bowing his head politely.
I stared at him in shock for longer than I was proud of, before shaking my head and recovering. "Where are my manners! Would you care to come in?" I asked him, and he nodded.
I stepped aside, ushering him into my apartment, where he sat down at the table with a smile as he looked around.
"Well lived in," he complimented. "And there's a medley of scents I recognize. A potioneer, are you, young man?"
"I dabble," I admitted as I sat down. "Can I get you tea? Coffee? Water?"
"Mmm. I'm fine, thank you. And you more than dabble. Still, a humbler home than I expected from the founder of Cauldron Remedies," he said, and I tensed up.
"No need to worry. I don't care one wit about the Statute, and personally think what you're doing is hilarious," Barry Winkle replied, giving me a knowing wink.
"May I ask why you are here, then?" I inquired curiously, not ready to relax quite yet.
At that, the ancient man's expression turned somber. "I am here as executor of the Last Will and Testament of Mr. and Mrs. Flamel," he revealed.
I reared back in shock, eyes wide.
"So, they finally passed away," I uttered, stunned. I knew it'd happen eventually, but I could hardly believe it was so soon!
"The news will break some time tomorrow morning, when the French government has had time to get their own affairs in order," Barry Winkle stated. "The two were quite influential, and their deaths will have the nation reeling."
"I see," I murmured. I wiped a tear from eye, and took a shuddering breath to collect myself. I didn't dip into Occlumency, no matter how I wished to.
'They'd be happy to know their lessons stuck,' I thought to myself with a bit of amusement. I would cry for them, but I would not despair. I, more than anybody else, knew death was not the end.
"I hope wherever they end up next, they live their lives together again," I said softly.
"Indeed," Barry Winkle agreed. "Now, not to cheapen the moment, but I must move on to other business."
"Of course," I muttered. "How can I help you?"
"In the Will, the Flamels have left you a few things. One million galleons, paid into your Gringotts account, and ten million United States Dollars, accessible through a Swiss bank account. Here is the bank info," he informed me, and I stared at him in shock at that.
"That's…" I murmured as I accepted the paperwork from him. "That's a lot of money!"
Not nearly as much as I'd made by copying what George Soros had done through short changing the pound in September – I'd made a sizable amount that way, over twenty-five million U.S. dollars – but it was still a tidy sum.
"Indeed. And the third and final item they left you was a rather lovely vacation villa in New Orleans. It was a summer home they had built there centuries ago, but never used it much. They would prefer to have somebody use it," Mr. Winkle said. "Here's the key… the deed… and some other information for it."
"I'm honored," I said, touched by their consideration towards me.
"They saw great things in your future," the other immortal noted. "Considering ol' Nicky left you his journal."
"You know about that?" I asked, surprised.
"I also know what the Flamels' ultimate plan was. Their magnum opus. Their Grand Ritual," Barry Winkle admitted. "I was privy to some of the details of it, and know that it will take a lot of time and resources to set up. The sooner, the better. Hence, the money, to hopefully be used to that end. Of course, you can do with it as you will. But I have a feeling you'll find some way to use it."
"Do you agree?" I asked after a moment. "With their plan, I mean."
"I wish that it did not have to come to such a thing," Barry Winkle replied sadly. "But I see the need of it."
"Will the other immortals interfere?" I inquired.
"Of the ones who knew what Nick was planning, only two might try and interfere. I would keep an eye out for anything – or anyone – unusual coming to London from Las Vegas or Constantinople."
"Any names you can give me?" I asked hopefully, but he shook his head.
"As much as I disagree with them, they are still my friends. And I have precious few still alive. I have done as much as I am willing by giving you what I already have," the ancient man said.
"Thank you," I said, disappointed but understanding.
"Well, I must be off," one of the oldest men alive said, standing up and bowing his head politely towards me. "Thank you for the hospitality."
"Of course," I replied. "Have a safe trip back."
"Not much out there that can threaten little old me," Barry Winkle laughed. "But I appreciate the concern. Stay well, boy."
He then left, leaving through the front door and closing it behind him. I let out a faint sigh when we was gone, and looked down at the paperwork in front of me.
"So much money," I muttered. "And a house? What on Earth am I going to do with a whole house? And in New Orleans of all places?"
'I need to investigate it, and find out what the magical scene in the city is like,' I thought to myself. 'On the bright side, a place on a whole other hemisphere might just be what I need to keep Sirius Black out of the way until his trial.'
As I went over the events from earlier in the evening, I idly picked up the key to the mansion I now owned. And wasn't that a shock? Who'd have thought I'd inherit millions like this?
'Or that I'd be a property owner,' I thought to myself with a bitter chuckle, recalling the tiny apartment I'd lived in back in my old life.
After a bit more contemplating on how my life has gone so far, I eventually decided to put it on the backburner. A yawn escaped me, and I grunted a bit, feeling tired and overwhelmed. It was time for bed. I still had things to do tomorrow. Time for bed.
'I wonder how Harry is doing?' I thought to myself as I got ready for bed. Thinking about death had reminded me that in canon, Harry had attended Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party.
'Which is tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken,' I mused.
I hoped he would have fun regardless if he went to it or not in this timeline.
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
Harry POV
"You know, this is somehow not what I expected… and yet it's also exactly how I assumed ghosts would celebrate something called a Deathday," Harry admitted in a low voice as he looked around the room in the dungeons that'd been set aside for use by Gryffindor's house ghost, Nearly Headless Nick.
At his side, Neville shivered but nodded in agreement. There were dozens of spooky specters floating about, causing the already chilly dungeon to get even colder. Harry was glad Percy (who'd come along as a chaperon) had cast warming charms on everyone.
In fact, all of the Gryffindor Second Years and some from other years were in attendance, including the entire Quidditch team, Harry having convinced them that it would be a nice gesture for the ghost who was sort of their house's mascot when Nick had asked if Harry would attend the event. And since Harry wasn't really a fan of Halloween, he was fine with skipping the feast to hang out with some dead people. He did make sure there was food fit for human consumption, though. Rotten food wasn't very appetizing.
"I didn't know ghosts could cry," Susan muttered to herself as she watched the not-quite decapitated ghost of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington beam with pride and joy at all the people from his house who'd showed up. He had silvery streaks on his cheeks everyone was kind enough not to mention.
Susan, Hannah, and Luna were the only students from other houses who'd shown up, with the latter sticking close to and hanging out with Ginny all evening, but Harry didn't mind. He'd extended the offer to a few others, but understood why nobody else had been interested. Heck, even some of the other Gryffindors were a bit unnerved attending and being around so many ghosts.
'House of the Brave my arse,' he thought to himself with an amused snort.
"Oi!"
"Harry-kin!"
Harry looked over at the Weasley Twins as they sauntered over. They had mugs of butterbeer in hand and wide grins.
"Never thought we'd get to go to a Deathday Party," Fred (?) said.
"Thanks for inviting us!" George (?) replied. "A real riot!"
"No problem," Harry shrugged. "I'm surprised nobody from Gryffindor has done so before."
"True. At least some of the Firsties are having fun," Fred (or was it George?) commented, and Harry glanced over at the small group of Muggleborn First Years looking excited. And… was one of them taking pictures of the event?
"Do ghosts even show up on photos?" Harry couldn't help but wonder, and George (or maybe Fred?) shrugged.
"Dunno. I heard from dad Muggles sometimes take photos of 'em which means it's possible."
Harry wasn't so sure any of the so-called 'ghosts' captured on film by Muggle tabloids were of actual ghosts, but maybe they were. Would make sense if the photographers were Squibs trying to make some money.
'And now I have to wonder about other mysteries and cryptids being real or Squib hoaxes,' Harry mused. 'I'll have to ask Ed about that.'
As he was thinking to himself, four ghosts floated over to him, and he put his thoughts away to greet them.
"Hello," he said politely, nodding his head towards Nearly Headless Nick and the House Ghosts for the other Houses.
"Harry, my boy! Thank you for attending! And bringing so many people with you!" Nearly Headless Nick said happily. "Why, this has been my best Deathday ever!"
"Glad you enjoyed it," Harry said with a smile. "And, uh, I hope you don't mind that I asked the House Elves to prepare some food for the more mortal guests."
"Oh, yes, no problem at all!" the Fat Friar assured him. "Ghostly cuisine is not for the faint of heart!"
"Indeed. It was quick thinking," the Grey Lady said, scrutinizing the boy in front of her, as if seeing him in a new light. The Bloody Baron just huffed, but gave Harry a polite bob of his head, chains rattling a bit.
Harry smiled back at them. "Anyways, I was wondering about what it was like to be dead…"
He chatted some more with the ghosts, but the party was soon interrupted by loud neighing and braying and whooping and hollering, and without warning dozens of ghostly specters burst into the chamber, flying around and tossing round objects amongst themselves while seated on the backs of ghostly horses.
"What is that?!" a Fourth Year exclaimed, though after the first couple of seconds the shock quickly wore off.
"Maybe they're late comings?" Lavender Brown wondered. "I've heard it's fashionable to be late. Though that always seemed rude to me."
"Nicky-boy!" one of the riders called out, riding down to where the House Ghosts were hovering. His head was tucked under his armpit, but despite that he managed to look down his nose at the Gryffindor ghost.
"Hullo, Patrick," Nick said in an annoyed voice.
"Heard about your request to join us again, but I'm afraid the answer is still 'no,' same as last year," the rider declared, smirking down at the not-quite-headless phantom. "Since it's your Deathday and all, I thought I should deliver the rejection in person."
"Who's he?" Harry asked, thoroughly unimpressed by the rudeness on display.
"Ah. That would be Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, leader of the Headless Hunt," Nearly Headless Nick said, somewhat despondently.
"The Headless Hunt?" Harry asked. And now that he looked closer, Harry could see that the objects being passed around by the other mounted ghosts were the ghosts own severed heads!
"Yes. They're all spirits who died due to decapitation and participate in various head-based activities like head juggling, head polo, and so on," Nick said a bit enviously. "I've often asked to join, but they've always turned me down."
"Do they often show up to your Deathday parties just to say 'no?'" Neville asked, and when Nick nodded, the pudgy Second Year gave him a sympathetic look.
"Seems a bit rude to just barge in uninvited to somebody else's party," Katie Bell muttered, her fellow ladies on the Quidditch team nodding in agreement.
"Excuse me! How exactly does that work?" Hermione abruptly asked, hand in the air, causing all the ghosts to turn to her in confusion.
"Are you seriously asking how the Headless Hunt works?" Sir Patrick asked, his severed head blinking in bewilderment at the bushy-haired girl. "Wait, why is there a living girl here?"
He then looked around, realizing his audience consisted of more mortals than usual. "Actually, why are there so many of the living here at all?"
"Ah, they're from my House," Nicholas said proudly. "They heard it was my five hundredth Deathday, and they came to celebrate it with us!"
The other headless horsemen all looked amongst each other, one or two nudging their neighbors in amusement while a couple seemed taken aback by the kindness and loyalty of the living towards the dead.
"I was just curious, because I know Hogwarts has a large population of ghosts but I've never seen any ghostly horses before now – or of any animals really!" Hermione admitted. "How does that work? I thought only wizards and witches could become ghosts. Is there a spell for turning pets into ghosts along with you? And how can you ride them? Can ghosts touch other ghosts? Does that mean that technically, any of the ghosts here could ride on somebody else's shoulders?"
Hermione continued to blabber a bit, making a few of the riders' eyes glaze over. "Also, why even ride horses at all? What purpose does it serve beyond aesthetics since a human ghost doesn't get tired and can also float in the air about as fast as the horses seem to be able to?"
"I'd like to know that as well," Luna added, raising her hand as well. Beside her Ginny facepalmed, clearly a bit embarrassed, but at the same time smiling fondly at her friend's antics.
Sir Patrick opened and closed his mouth for a moment, trying to formulate a response, before spinning right around and exiting the room. For a few seconds the rest of the Headless Hunt just floated there, as confused and surprised as the rest of guests at the abrupt departure before following after their leader, leaving the party behind.
As soon as they left Nearly Headless Nick began to chuckle, when soon turned into full blown guffaws. He laughed so hard his head bounced off of his shoulders and dangled from the strip of flesh, which set off the rest of the ghostly partygoers.
"She should have been in Ravenclaw," the Grey Lady said fondly, pouting a bit as she watched a few ghosts float over to Hermione and answer a few of her questions.
"Ha! More like she's a true Gryffindor! Only somebody truly brave and unafraid would ask so many questions of a ghost!" Nick declared, finally calming down a bit as he reattached his head. He then floated over to Hermione with a grateful smile. "Thank you, my dear, that made my day!"
"Oh, of course, no problem," Hermione said, blinking a bit. It was obvious to Harry she didn't know why she was being thanked, and that made the Boy-Who-Lived smile.
The party was a bit livelier after that, the ice broken between ghosts and mortals and the denizens of Hogwarts past and present chatted and mingled a bit more.
Nearly Headless Nick went around the room, speaking with each of the Gryffindor students who'd showed up. The Fat Friar spoke with Hannah and Susan, praising them for their inter-house comradery, which made them blush, and the Grey Lady spent some time listening to Luna babble about this and that, a fond smile on her face. Even Moaning Myrtle, the lonesome and weepy ghost of the girl's bathroom on the second floor, seemed to be having fun chatting with Neville and some Muggleborn students.
Eventually though it had to end. Percy informed the students that dinner was over in the Great Hall, and it was time to head back to the dorms before curfew. With that, the mortal party-goers exited en mass together, bidding farewell to the ghosts and marking an end to a lovely Halloween.
Yet as they ascended the stairs out of the dungeons on their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry blinked and began to look around in confusion.
~"Kill… time to kill… blood… smell blood!~
"Everything alright, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Does anyone else hear that?" Harry asked instead, frowning.
"Hear what?" Hannah asked. The corridor was rather noisy thanks to all the students making their way up.
"I dunno… but there's somebody talking about blood," Harry revealed.
"Mayhaps it's one of the girls," George (or maybe Fred) suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"Aye, perhaps its that time of the month," Fred (or maybe George) offered with a smirk, only for both to let out an "Oof!" as the Quidditch Chasers socked them both in the stomach for that off-color joke.
"Sorry, Harry, I don't hear anything," Neville apologized.
"Me neither," Susan replied.
"Yeah. Anyways, this is our floor, we gotta go," Hannah said, and the two Hufflepuffs left, going off back to their dorm.
Shrugging to himself, Harry bid them farewell, and put the odd voice out of his head. If it was import, it'd come up again later.
However, when they reached the second floor, things took a dark turn as one of the students up ahead let out a groan. "Ugh! The floor is all wet!"
"Myrtle's flooded the bathroom again," an older girl complained.
"No she didn't," Luna said, the young Ravenclaw Firstie still with them. "She was at the party."
"She was," Harry confirmed. "Unless she can flood the place from down there, she's been with us all night."
Murmurs began to echoed up and down the hallways, only for a scream to pierce the air. Like a herd of lemmings, the Gryffindors rushed towards the source of the noise, and found some of the Third Years staring up in horror at something on the wall.
As they crowded around and were joined by students from the other Houses who were leaving the Halloween feast, Harry gulped as he saw Mrs. Norris hanging from a wall sconce, unnaturally stiff.
"D-did somebody kill her?" Hermione wondered in horror.
"That's not all they did!" Angelina exclaimed, pointing up at some words written in a disturbingly red liquid beneath the cat.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemy's of the heir, beware!" somebody read aloud, and a shiver ran down Harry's spine for some reason.
'Is that what Ed was warning me about?' he wondered as more and more people from other houses began to gather, drawn by the commotion. 'It must be!'
He heard Draco shout something about "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" only for a furious McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick to each deduct fifteen points for that sort of language, but Harry wasn't really paying attention.
Instead, he couldn't help but feel that something was about to happen, and this was only the beginning of a greater mystery.
ray id: R6
Chapter 48: Chapter 48: Growing New Business
Chapter Text
Chapter 48: Growing New Business
"Alright, everyone! Places!" I called out, and all around the room the workers in the potion brewing workshop moved away and took up position nearby to watch and record my work. It was early on a chilly Monday morning in November, and I was excited to see if the latest experiment would work.
Slowly, I brought out Duncan's cage from its spot, and removed my loyal pet toad from within, placing him onto a wooden desk. I then took out an eyedropper full of a egg yolk yellow potion and placed a single drop of the liquid onto his head. In an instant, brown hair sprang forth, giving him a shaggy mullet.
"Note that the Hair Growth potion from Batch 12 works exactly as predicted!" I announced, and a wave of relieved murmurs rang out. As that was happening, I delicately snipped off the hair, leaving only a tiny buzzcut on Duncan.
Then, I took a Q-tip and dipped it into a jar of a thick brownish-yellow cream. Next, I rubbed it all over Duncan, and watched intently. It would take an hour or two to see any changes, but I was confident it would work. After all, it was the exact same Hair Growth potion from earlier, simply turned into a cream.
The Hair Growth potion I was experimenting with was the latest version, made entirely from purely mundane and easily sources ingredients. It consisted of beeswax, sea salt, diced bamboo shoot, and quail egg yolk, and when mixed into a cream was by far the most effective hair growth formula on the market.
Diluted and weakened as it was in cream form, the potion would take around twenty-four hours to regrow about an inch's worth of hair on the applied spot. But that was already miraculous for mundane hair growth, and now that I'd found a recipe that was much cheaper and easier to produce, I could begin mass production of it.
Since I didn't have time to waste staring at a toad - as marvelous a specimen as Duncan was I had other things to do today - I placed Duncan back inside his habitat, where I'd check on him later to see if the shaved hair had grown back at all.
"Seems like Batch 12 is ready to go into full production as soon as the final tests and observations are done!" I announced to the room, and the people there cheered and applauded. They all wore white coats, rubber gloves, face masks, and eye covers, as they were the ones who worked with the potion brewing process, handling the ingredients, checking the vats, and so forth. Safety practices were important, after all.
"Oh, and don't forget that there's cupcakes in the break room and the tea has been restocked," I said. "And yes, folks, it's proper bags, not powder, so nothing like that near riot last week should happen again."
That got some chuckles out of my audience, and they went back to work. I placed Duncan's cage back with the others. The workshop was full of toads for testing, though they'd quickly become something of mascots and pets for the workers. The fact that the potions didn't permanently harm them helped, and I didn't mind if they played around with some of the toads in between tasks.
I then left the workshop and entered the factory proper, letting the sound wash over me. There were other workers milling about, checking the temperature settings for the vats, as well ensuring the auto-stirrers were working properly. Like the people in the workshop, they wore protective gear suited for a chemical factory or laboratory, which was what this place technically was, at least on paper.
Moving around, I greeted the people as I walked past, complimenting their efforts and asking how their day was going. Morale was high, and it made me happy to see everyone working without any troubles.
Eventually, I made my way to the back area and up a flight of stairs, where a couple offices had been set up that overlooked the factory floor. This was where I and the other pencil pushers and bean counters did the paperwork that kept the place running.
"I've got excellent news! Batch 12 appears to be a success!" I said as I entered my office. The man waiting for me nodded.
"Good to hear," Remus Lupin, head of Crucible Security Solutions (a subsidiary of Cauldron Remedies), said in response.
"Indeed it is. Though I'm going to have to step up with the production, which means more ingredients," I sighed. "Thankfully, I have a meeting with a potential supplier in the magical world for some of it."
"You'll do fine. You've gotten this far, after all. And I have to admit, I was taken aback when I first heard about what you were doing. And then again when I saw this set-up," Lupin admitted, and I grinned.
"Yes, I do recall your jaw hitting the floor with a nice, audible thump," I teased.
"You can't blame me for that," the werewolf huffed. "This whole operation is ridiculous, and not at all what I expected from you when you said you wanted to hire me."
I shrugged at that, but could see his point. When I'd first showed him the factory, I was still setting most of it up. The warehouse at the time had been filled with giant stainless-steel vats for brewing the potions, using rune-inscribed stirrers to mix it all together.
Now? It was the same, but there were more vats, more blenders, more storage lockers full of ingredients, and plenty of machines with hissing nozzles whose sole purpose was to put the creams into tubes and tubs.
The workers here were all Squibs or the mundane families of magical folk, such as Dean Thomas's mother who was now the cashier for the store in London. Aside from that, I had exactly three magicals hired at the moment, and only one was an actual wizard. The other two were Inky and Dobby.
Between my shop in downtown London and this warehouse on the outskirts, I had thirty-eight employees. This number would only grow as I made more Oath Binding Ink contracts and could start hiring unaware mundane people to do jobs like deliveries, stocking the shelves, accounting, and so on, as well as Muggleborn who were fed up with the magical world. And according to Lupin, he knew a few who would be interested.
Speaking of the man with a lunar allergy, after Lupin had picked his jaw off the ground, he'd helped me by casting several wards and detection charms around the place to protect it. I'd need to get proper wards set up, but for now what I had was enough.
For future expansions, I'd already purchased two more warehouses that would become additional potion factories, and I wanted to find a way to enchant the vats and stirrers with the self-stirring spell, like they had for cauldrons. That'd have to wait until I could find somebody I could trust to do this. And afford it. Enchanters were worth their weight in gold, and rare to boot. Any witch or wizard could cast a stirring charm, but that would fade in time and need to be recast daily, unless made permanent by an enchanter. And while I could hire a couple Muggleborn to do just that, it wasn't economical to have somebody spend all day every day casting a single spell over and over on a single vat.
"Anyways, you wanted to speak with me about something?" I asked, recalling that Lupin had had a reason to meet with me.
"I finished the security project you asked me for," he said, holding up a rolled-up sheet of parchment.
I took it and opened it, blinking in surprise at what I saw. "This is…" I trailed off, not wanting to speak, lest I give away my meta-knowledge. Lupin took my speechlessness as awe, and happily explained what he'd made.
"This is a map that shows the location of everyone inside the building," Lupin said proudly. "It's based off of a 'school project' I made in Hogwarts. It keeps track in real-time, and I've added some extra features, while leaving some other ones out."
The entire warehouse and its immediately surroundings, as well as the shop in downtown, was on display, with every person displayed as a colored dot moving around or standing still.
"Press the map here to switch between the shop and the factory," Lupin said, pointing to the words printed onto the side. I did so, and the ink flowed as it shifted to reveal the factory and the people within. "You can also tap any of the dots to see who they are."
"It's impressive. A bit of a breach of privacy, but impressive all the same," I said, eyes darting over it. "I see that it's showing off some information on the wards. And do the colors mean something?"
"The map is connected to the wards. You can't control them with the map, but you can see if they're active or not," Lupin said. "The coloration of the markers shows the status of the workers. Green means they are fine. Yellow means they are tired or have minor injuries or have a hex, jinx, or spell on them. Red is major injury or curse, or unauthorized entry."
"Interesting," I mused. That was quite useful in a lot of ways, and I poked one of the yellow dots in the office. Underneath it, a name popped up alongside a list of issues that appeared on the side of the map, and I leaned back in my seat.
"It seems that Janet is pregnant," I said. "And that the map classified pregnancy as a yellow-level affliction."
"Hm? Oh, I see," Lupin said, leaning in, intrigued. "I hadn't thought about that, but it does seem to be case." He then tilted his head, looking up at me. "So, what do you think?"
"I think you're getting a raise," I declared. "What else can you do?"
"Charms were always my specialty, and I could have become an Enchanter had anyone wished to take me on as an apprentice," Lupin said, a note of bitterness in his voice. "I'm not bad with Care of Magical Creatures and DADA either, though Sirius were always better at the latter."
"Speaking of the man, have you heard anything from him? Or heard rumors about Azkaban?" I asked, and the werewolf shook his head.
"There's nothing. He must be lying low until he has an opportunity," he replied. He very carefully didn't give voice to the niggling doubt we both shared that Wiggles von Snubs had failed his mission.
"Hopefully he'll make a move soon," I said with a shake of my head. "Until then, all we can do is wait."
Lupin nodded. He then gave me a nod and walked out, off to do security guard stuff. When he was gone, I locked the map away in a safe underneath my desk, and then called for Inky.
"Yes, Young Master Eddy?" the elderly House Elf asked when he appeared.
"It's time for class," I told him, getting up. I was finally attending Oxford, and the lectures and lessons were going well.
"Yes, Young Master Eddy," Inky said with a bow. "Also, I have a letter for you."
He handed over a scroll, and I took it and examined the wax seal on it. "House Greengrass, huh?" I muttered, recognizing the emblem stamped into the green wax. A bushel of wheat wrapped around by a two-headed snake known as a Runespoor looking left and right was unmistakable thanks to my lessons on Pureblood society courtesy of my mother.
"The owl arrived earlier this morning," Inky informed me as I broke the seal and began to read the letter.
"He's agreeing to meet with me about my request to purchase potion ingredients wholesale and in bulk from him," I said with a grin. Finally! I'd been waiting for weeks for him to reply after I'd sent him some letters during the Summer, and if things went well, they'd become my primary supplier in the Wizarding World.
I took out some parchment from my desk – I always kept some on me, just in case – and wrote back a reply, passing it to Inky to take care of. He took it and popped away, before returning a minute later to take me over to my classes.
I couldn't wait for Friday. But until then, I had a history lecture to attend.
111 &&& 111
That Friday around noon, I straightened my dark blue tie and ran a hand over my dress robes, smoothing out any wrinkles it might have gained since it'd been laid out for me to wear. Not that I expected there to be any after Inky had cleaned them.
Instead of meeting the head of House Greengrass at his home to discuss business, we were doing so at a different location. That place happened to be the Ruby Unicornrestaurant of Vertic Alley, the more expensive and upper crust part of Magical London, the posh counterpart to the more middle-class Diagon Alley.
I knew very little about the Ruby Unicorn, aside from the fact it was the most distinguished restaurant in Magical Britain. I wasn't worried about not blending in, my Acromantula silk robes would pass muster after all, but I wanted to impress Cyrus Greengrass, so I made sure to add a couple runic rings to my hands and was wearing my best rune-weave tie. I was dressed to impress, and so when Inky popped me over, I was pleased to see that I did not look out of place amongst the other diners when I walked in.
"Mr. Hunch? Mr. Greengrass is waiting for you," a waiter said, before escorting me to a table. The interior of the restaurant was impressive. It had that distinct pseudo-Victorian style on display, and had burnished gold platters and utensils on tables that had been Transfigured to look like animals. Eating off the back of a lion, horse, or dragon was apparently what high-class dining considered to be in good taste.
Cyrus Greengrass greeted me with a polite nod which I returned, and I sat down across from him at a table that'd been Transfigured into a large Runespoor, the plates balancing on their heads.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Greengrass," I said. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."
"Of course. I was quite intrigued by your letter. Fire Whiskey, Nolden Thriftwood's brew, 1901," Cyrus said, tapping his goblet with his wand, and in an instant, it filled with the requested beverage.
Copying him, I tapped my own goblet with one of my rings, saying, "Red wine, Soleil Rouge." A moment later, a fine red wine filled it. I hadn't specified the date as I'd been unsure of what sort of stock they had of this particular wine, so I would accept whatever vintage they had in their cellars.
"An interesting choice," Cyrus noted.
"Yes, I tasted it while in France and found I rather liked it," I replied. "Mr. Flamel got me hooked on it."
"Flamel?" the merchant inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"I met Nicholas Flamel and his wife over the summer. He was a gracious host. I was sorry to hear of his passing over Halloween," I said, and the Greengrass patriarch blinked at me in surprise.
"I am surprised," Cyrus admitted. "I had no idea House Hunch had connections with the Flamels."
"One of my great-grandfathers was a student of his," I replied, waving it off as if it was no big deal. And it was technically true, an ancestor of mine had studied under Nicholas Flamel for a few weeks and gotten an autographed book out of it. Though in truth my ancestor had merely attended a multi-week lecture the famous alchemist had held, and gotten the book autographed afterwards.
"I see. Has your family's fortunes changed in the years since your father passed away?" Cyrus inquired. "It is not cheap to start a new business, after all."
"My family's fortunes are doing well, thank you for asking," I said. "And this business is under my own name."
Cyrus simply nodded slowly, digesting my words. By now, he'd probably figured out that House Hunch was as poor as ever, and that my business proposal had nothing to do with my mother or brother. Sink or swim, it was all on my shoulders.
Further talks were put to the side for the moment, as Cyrus tapped his plate with his wand and ordered his lunch. I did the same, rapping my rings against the golden tableware and saying aloud what I wanted to eat. Whoever was working in the kitchen was good at their job, as it wasn't long before the food appeared on our plates.
We both ate, making small talk all the while. We discussed recent Ministry policies, who was taking bribes in the different departments, and which Quidditch teams we hoped would win their upcoming matches. I personally wanted to see the Hollyhead Harpies go all the way. I do love me some sporty women, after all!
"Now that we've eaten and gotten a measure of each other, I believe we can talk about why we're really here," Cyrus suggested as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, plate empty, and I nodded in agreement, my own plate clear of food.
"Mr. Hunch, your letter you sent me was quite curious. I get many requests for materials, and of course, many requests for a discount on them. Yet I've never had anyone order a literal ton of powdered Wiggentree bark, nor so much salamander's blood and other potion ingredients," Cyrus informed me. "Was it perhaps an error in the requisition form?"
"Please, call me Edward Rose. My old name is of little matter," I requested. "And there's no mistake. I need all of that. And more. As soon as possible."
"That is quite a large order," Cyrus said. "How exactly do you plan on using up so many ingredients?"
"I assure you, my customers will pay for what I'm making. And even more than that, this is not the first large-scale order I've made with your business," I informed him.
"I wasn't aware you'd opened up your store already," Cyrus replied. "I was under the impression you were buying in bulk to stock up on supplies."
It was understandable. The amount of ingredients I'd placed an order for would be enough to make thousands of vials of Wiggenweld potion and keep an ordinary potion seller afloat for years. Nobody could – or would – buy so many healing potions in normal circumstances. Not in the Wizarding World, at least. At best, potion makers sold maybe a dozen vials of Wiggenweld potion a month. And Cyrus Greengrass would have heard if there was a new potion seller in Diagon Alley or one of the other magical towns and villages.
But I wasn't selling my products to witches or wizards. And a ton of Wiggentree bark would be used up quickly, in a month or so based on the current sales I was seeing.
Cyrus clearly looked skeptical of my claim, but I had a way to convince him.
"This is the amount of money I've made since opening my store this summer," I told him, sliding a folded-up piece of parchment his way. Cyrus took it, and his eyes widened comically at the numbers written upon it.
Over fifty thousand galleons in just a couple months was a staggering sum for a business in the Wizarding World. And thanks to my connections with the British Chemical Concern, my goods would be in multiple stores and pharmacies across the UK starting next year, so the amount of money I'd be making would be much higher in the future.
"How… where are you making all this money?" Cyrus demanded, bewildered. 'There's no way this all came from the Magical World,' went unsaid but heavily implied.
"I have customers outside of what is considered 'normal,'" I replied. "Don't worry, I'm not going to infringe on any local potioneers' business. My interests lie beyond Magical Britain."
Cyrus's expression shifted ever so slightly. It was hard to tell, but I was able to pick out his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening. He brought out his wand and flicked it through the air, and I felt wards settle around our table.
"You're selling potions to Muggles?" he hissed out.
"No, no, not at all! That would be silly!" I chuckled. "I'm selling natural remedies and medicine inspired by old herblore. 'Potions' implies magic, after all."
I smirked. "At least, that's the official story. Muggles don't believe in magic, and I have no interest in going against the Ministry of Magic or the Statute of Secrecy."
Cyrus raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew he didn't buy my excuse, but I had a plan for that.
"Tell me, Mr. Greengrass, have you ever heard of the Placebo Effect?"
"No, I have not," he replied.
"Allow me to explain," I said. "To put it simply, the Muggles did a study where they gave medicine to some people, but not to others. However, they told everyone they were being given medicine. They took notes of who claimed to feel better afterwards, and discovered that many of the people who'd been given fake pills had indeed gotten healthier purely because they believed they would," I told him.
"That's… how is that possible?" Cyrus stuttered in disbelief.
"There are a bunch of explanations for it, and I don't fully understand the science behind it myself, but the point still stands. If people think it will heal them, their bodies will be tricked into healing on their own," I explained. "All without magic."
"I see… but what does this have to do with your 'business idea?'" Cyrus inquired curiously.
"The point is that unless your product is outright and obviously magical, then most Muggles will believe whatever it is you want so long as it doesn't contradict their own views and beliefs. Hence, selling medicine with slightly magical effects that can be passed off as completely mundane, if exceptional in ability."
"Is it really that simply?" Cyrus muttered, not quite believing me, but at the same time, he was intrigued, and I aimed for that.
"It can be. If you know what to do and how to market your products," I replied.
"What do you want? What is your ultimate goal, here?" Cyrus asked, giving me a suspicious look.
"I want to sell medicine to the Muggles and make money," I told him honestly. "But I need a large amount of resources to produce it all. That's where you and your business comes in."
"The Ministry forbids interactions with the Muggles," Cyrus said, though the way he did so made it sound like he was merely repeating something he'd said many times before, and didn't quite care for it.
"The Ministry forbids revealing the secrets of magic to the uninitiated. As well as a few stipulations about giving or selling things to Muggles with the intent to cause harm. There are no laws about selling semi-magical goods to people who lack magic themselves," I stated. "And trust me, the Muggle side of things is a golden opportunity just waiting!"
"That still sounds like you are dangerously close to crossing a certain line the Ministry would not line to be crossed," Cyrus said slowly.
"Perhaps. But the Ministry is quite blind to what is happening right in front of it. I have no doubt that even if it was beneficial, they'd continue to wallow in mediocrity," I scoffed.
"And do you really believe that?" Cyrus asked curiously. "I recall hearing you say something similar a while back. Tell me, do you truly think that the wizarding world lacks creativity? That we are… behind the times, so to speak?"
"You remember my little rant at the bookstore, I see," I said, letting him know I'd seen him there. When he nodded, I decided to answer. "Yes, I do. How many theaters are there in Magical Britain? How many witches and wizards have put on a play this year?"
"There were sixteen showings of the Four Wands, ten of the Life of Merlin, and The Hag and the Hatran for three weeks straight. All of this was at the Astral Theater in Vertic Alley," Cyrus replied. "I am unsure of how many plays were put on at the Little-Bigg Theater in Diagon Alley. Though I can't imagine it was more than that."
"And there you have it," I said with a nod. "We desperately lack culture. In Muggle London alone there were hundreds, possible even thousands of shows this past year! There are over two hundred theaters in London! What about literature? How many books were published? And I mean new ideas and tales and words, not reprints, edits, or updates?"
"There was a new Charms book for OWLS and above that had a few new charms and theories, along with two new books in the Adventures of Harry Potter series," Cyrus replied after thinking it over. "And of course the new Lockhart book. I'm sure there were others, but I don't think there were more than two dozen, all told."
"Again, the Muggles in England blow that number out of the water," I said. "The future of our society is not here, in this isolated, insular community, but out there, in the wider world."
"And you want me to risk my standing in the Wizengamot for a potential cut of the profits?" Cyrus inquired.
"Your standing is already at risk," I told him bluntly, causing him to look taken aback. "In a few years, all your wealth and power and neutralitywill be meaningless."
"I beg your pardon?" Cyrus uttered, glaring at me furiously.
In response, I took out an Ofuda and slapped it onto the table, creating a bubble of quiet. My talisman based Silencing Charm cut the two of us off from being overheard. Cyrus may have put up his own wards, but I was just adding a bit of extra protection.
"Do you really think Malfoy or Dumbledore will allow you to continue as you have?" I asked. "The Grey Faction is not tenable in the current political climate. You will have to make a choice to support Dumbledore or Malfoy – Light or Dark – sooner than you'd think. I give it just a few years, five at most, before matters in the Wizengamot turn… complicated. Before powerful men start pressuring you and demanding commitment one way or another."
I then threw my arms wide. "But here I am, giving you a way out. A way to keep your neutrality. Support me, and I can be your bridge into the largest market in the world. There are six billion Muggles on Earth right now, and you and I could become absurdly wealthy through selling to them."
"Why would I need to work with you?" Cyrus demanded, even though he looked taken aback by my claim of how many Muggles there were. "What exactly is stopping me from starting my own venture in the Muggle side without you?"
"Because you wouldn't be able to navigate the Muggle world. Not like I can. I've got things set up. I have connections amongst the Muggles. You, unfortunately, don't know how to talk to Muggles. How to do the paperwork that would be required. How to use the technology that's been developed."
I looked at Cyrus sharply. "I am your gateway to a better life. A fourth faction. One that isn't White, Black, or Grey, but gold plated instead. And speaking of…"
I took out two items and placed them on the table in front of the businessman. One was a potion bottle, the other was a piece of stainless steel with runes carved into the surface with inhuman levels of precision.
"Please, take a look at these samples of what I've been able to produce using the resources of the Muggles," I requested. "The potion is an ordinary Calming Draught, made with non-magical materials commonly found in the Muggle world. The rune slate is a simple example of a Lumosrune sequence, but I made it with Muggle tools and technology. Test them. See how they compare to what the Magical World can produce. And then get back into contact with me."
I then stood up and ripped apart the Ofuda, breaking the Silencing spell. "Thank you for the meal. I hope to hear from you soon. And that my latest order will be ready for pick up at the usual time and place."
And with that, I confidently strode out, leaving Cyrus Greengrass dumbfounded behind me.
This may have seemed extreme, but I'd studied the man. Learned about his habits and opinions. He was a man who despised weakness and respected men who had a spine and valued people with genuine talent. If I had trembled in front of him and backed down, it would have been harder to earn his attention or his respect.
However, Cyrus was also a man who wanted to protect his family. He had not sided with either faction in the previous war because neutrality had, at the time, been the easiest way to keep his family safe. He hadn't even tried to make money by playing both sides, as many of his political opponents like to claim.
But now? I had been completely honest about the current situation in the Wizengamot. Light and Dark were equal in power, with the neutral Grey Faction extremely weak. People who had sat on the sidelines in the previous war were being pressured to make a decision. Malfoy led the Dark Faction, Dumbledore the Light. Both men were very good at 'persuading' people to see things their way, leading to a volatile situation in the Wizarding World.
If Cyrus was smart, he'd be able to see the writing on the wall. His choices just weren't that great. There were the wealthy bigots who wanted to keep Wizarding Britain locked up, ignoring everything that wasn't related to the isles and magic. That meant cutting off trade with the rest of the world, segregating non-humans, werewolves and Muggleborn, and allowing certain spells to be cast and artifacts to be owned without penalty.
The Light Faction wasn't exactly much better. They wanted to push reforms that would ease relations between Muggleborn and Purebloods, but also sought to ban things that leaned too closely to the Dark, and to censor history worse than it already was being censored.
The Grey Faction was dying. It was breaking apart. It had fewer and fewer members, and Cyrus had his hands tied. He had to make a choice sooner or later. Yet here I was, walking in here with a fourth option. A new faction, and a new source of resources and manpower.
I hide a smirk as I left Diagon Alley. I had a feeling that Cyrus would think my offer over, and side with me. It might not be today, tomorrow, or even next year. But as I kept on buying supplies from his greenhouses and farms in quantities unheard of recently, the head of House Greengrass would see that there was another way to move forward. For both his family, and the magical world as a whole.
Chapter 49: Chapter 49: Christmas Eve
Chapter Text
Chapter 49: Christmas Eve
"Oh, you both look so cute!" Delilah gushed, and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley nodded, leaning in for a dreaded cheek pinch.
Harry pouted, not at all liking being called 'cute,' while Justin wore a resigned expression as he accepted the compliments and pinches.
Harry had decided to spend Christmas Break with me this year. I'd offered but hadn't expected him to agree. I was touched he'd accepted. Though he was also going to spend time with all of his friends who lived in the Muggle world this holiday as well. He'd be hanging out with Hermione, Dean, and a few others for a big get together later in the week before heading back to Hogwarts.
I merely stood nearby, smirking in amusement as I watched the scene. We were inside a ballroom with dozens of other people, all wearing suits and dresses worth more than a car. Delilah was here with her parents, though she'd distanced herself from them to stop by and say hello when Harry and I had entered with the Finch-Fletchleys. Harry was here on my invitation, and both Justin and Harry were glad to have somebody they knew at the party.
I was glad to see Justin was fine, too. Harry had somehow changed things at Hogwarts enough in a way that prevented Justin from being petrified. In fact, only Miss Norris, Colin Creevy, and Nearly Headless Nick had suffered from the Basilisk's gaze this time around, according to Harry. That was a relief, and it made it a lot easier to relax and enjoy the evening.
Once again, I was at a Christmas ball, the same one I'd attended last year, but this year, my invitation came from Sir Briar, my 'business partner.'
And speaking of him, the ancient man in the wheelchair who had invested in my business along with Delilah's father, was looking my way. I gave him a polite nod and moved over to him to give him my greetings. Harry shot me an annoyed look as I left him to his fate, but I pretended not to notice.
"Good evening, Sir Briar," I said politely, giving him a bow in greeting.
"Eh, good to see some young ones with proper manners these days," he cackled. "All that rock music is rotting their brains."
"Good thing I don't listen to rock. It's too loud, hurts my eats," I chuckled along with him. "Would it kill them to actually sing instead of shouting everything? It's like they're trying to make us deaf!"
"Indeed, indeed," Sir Briar nodded. "Youngsters don't know what proper music is like."
"Quite. Oh, and thank you for inviting me, Sir. And may I say that your hair looks great tonight," I said, complimenting the full head of hair that wouldn't look out of place of a man half his age.
"It does, doesn't it?" the wealthy businessman said, running a hand through it. "Your products truly work as advertised. Haven't had this much hair in decades."
"The nurses probably can't keep their hands off of you," I said with a wink, and he cackled again at that.
With the ice broken, other people soon began to come up and chat with us. I met quite a few people Sir Briar knew, and made connections with more influential individuals.
"I hear you're expanding your operations," Sir Briar eventually said. "Buying new buildings for new factories. Any new miracle creams in the works?"
"Afraid not," I replied with a shake of my head. "Just trying to meet demands for now."
"You'll want to try and think of something for next year," one of the men nearby suggested. "Your current products are excellent, but the public is quick to forget and find the next fad."
"Hmm, you're quite right about that," I agreed. "Do you think a toothpaste that can help whiten teeth would sell well?"
We spoke some more about business, and I made friends with some new investors very interested with some potential future products, before things shifted to other matters.
"So, who's the chap you brought with you, Mr. Rose?" a portly man who was a high-ranking judge inquired.
"That would be one of Justin Finch-Fletchley's friends from school," I replied. "Harry Potter is his name."
"A schoolmate, is it? We were all quite surprised to hear that young Justin wasn't going to attend Eton last year," a member of the House of Lords said. "This new school is somewhere in Scotland, I believe?"
"Yes, it's rather exclusive," I said. "Less than a hundred people were allowed in last year, if I'm not mistaken."
Intrigued murmurs rippled through the crowd that had gathered around me. "My, I wonder what the requirements are to attend such an institution!" a woman wondered, running a finger along the rim of her wine glass.
"I'm am unfamiliar with the boy's name," another person mused.
"Ah, that would be due to the fact the poor child lost his parents at an early age," I said with a shake of my head. "Tragic accident, very terrible. Harry's parents were alumni of the school, and was thus offered a spot there. Though thankfully the boy has been raised well by his aunt and uncle. From what I understand, his uncle, a Mr. Dursley, works as one of the top sales managers for Grunnings."
"Grunnings, eh? I hear they make drills and other tools. Heard good things about the quality," one man said, and listened as some people who likely knew the bosses of the bosses of the men who owned the company Vernon worked at chatted amongst themselves.
Much as I wanted to badmouth the Dursleys, I knew that doing so would only bring me a tiny bit of short-term satisfaction. These men and women were powerful, and a single bit of idle gossip could ruin a lesser man, which Vernon Dursley very much was.
And while I'd be happy to see that whale get his comeuppance, it would also hurt Harry indirectly, because if Vernon lost his job due to a casual comment I made here, then they might have to sell their house, and then the Blood Wards wouldn't protect Harry any longer.
Thus, I swallowed my hate and lathered the tub of lard in praise, hoping that perhaps some goodwill made here just might trickle down to Harry when he had to return to Number 4 Privet Drive next summer.
"You know, Mr. Rose, I heard that you had a bit of a kerfuffle over the summer," somebody, a woman with connections to the Board of Directors for the BBC, said, reminding me of the attempted kidnapping.
'Well, technically it was successfully, but I escaped just fine,' I thought to myself, before responding to her. "That was just a misunderstanding, Miss Colhoun. It was just a case of mistaken identity."
"Is that so?" she inquired, no doubt sensing a juicy story.
"Quite. They let me go after realizing their mistake," I told her. She tittered, as if I'd told a funny joke, and I couldn't help but compare her to Rita Skeeter in my head.
"That must have been quite the misunderstanding," Sir Briar chuckled dryly.
"It certainly sounds like it. Reminds me of the time I was on duty…" an elderly man with military medals proudly on display said, beginning a long-winded tale of military bravery and heroism I was pretty sure was exaggerated.
Two hours went by, and thankfully, this time there was no signs of another kidnapping, for me or for Delilah. In fact, my girlfriend took me over to meet her mother, who greeted with a tiny smile when Delilah introduced me to her.
"I've heard quite a bit about you, Mr. Rose," Mrs. Hunt said.
"Good things, I hope," I laughed.
"I believe she said something about a trip to France together," Delilah's mother confirmed, sighing, "How romantic!"
"It was," I nodded.
"He was quite the gentleman," Delilah agreed.
We continued to speak for a bit longer, but I was able to confirm that Mrs. Hunt was a lovely woman, who had a quick wit and a lot of funny stories about her daughter, which I gleefully listened to, even as Delilah turned red.
However, all good things come to an end, and the party began to wind down, people trickling out. Justin and Harry were growing tired as well, and the Finch-Fletchleys took them both home for a sleepover, which I hoped Harry would enjoy.
Meanwhile, that just left me and Delilah to ourselves. We went back to my apartment, and spent the rest of the night watching cheesy late night movies. It was a lot better than last Christmas, that was for sure! Nobody had died at all!
'Though there's still time before the New Year,' I thought to myself as I fell asleep on the couch, tucked in beneath a warm blanket next to Delilah who was already snoring away.
111 &&& 111
Cyrus Greengrass POV
'Another party, another bloody batch of fools trying to talk to me about more foolish regulations,' Cyrus grumbled to himself. He kept a polite and amiable mask on his face as he listened to some Ministry flunky attempt to convince him to back his latest tariff increase.
Leaving aside the fact this particular peon was one of Malfoy's disposable catspaws, the proposed economic change would raise prices for potion ingredients and reagents coming in from certain places outside the British Isles by two percent. That might not seem much, but it would hurt many potioneers' bottom lines and force them to choose cheaper and less effective local ingredients. And there were many ingredients that Magical Britain didn't produce and had to import.
House Greengrass owned many farms and produced a large amount of the country's potion ingredients, around sixty percent to be precise, but the real money they made came from trade. They bought ingredients from the rest of Europe and then sold them to potioneers in Diagon Alley and beyond. Raising the tariff would force the Greengrasses to pay more to import them, which would hurt their own bottom line as he had to raise prices at home to make a profit.
This was a thinly veiled attempt to try and hurt the finances of House Greengrass, and Cyrus knew it. He also knew that this was but one string to Malfoy's bow. If he refused to support the tariff, Malfoy would go after him another way.
Worse, Cyrus knew that this tariff would benefit not just the Malfoy's, who had their own competing trade firms in countries that wouldn't be affected by said tariff, but also the Longbottoms, who controlled the remaining forty percent of the local potion ingredient farming in Magical Britain.
This law was yet another dangerous and unsubtle dagger to try and force the Greengrasses to side with one side or another. And he hated it.
When the flunky finally left, Cyrus fought back a sigh. At his side, his wife squeezed his arm, somehow able to sense his exasperation.
'What did I do to get a woman like her?' he thought to himself as he flashed Cynthia a smile. Sure, their marriage had been arranged, like most in upper society, but she was his rock, and they'd had a chance to get to know each other in Hogwarts before their nuptials, creating a bond that lasted to this day.
"Ah, Cyrus," a slimy voice called out.
"Lucius. Narcissa. A pleasure," Cyrus lied, turning to the couple. "How are you doing today?"
"Quite well, quite well," Lucius said while the wives exchanged pleasantries and thinly veiled barbs as they 'complimented' each others' outfits.
"Wonderful! Although, I heard your House Elf passed away over the summer. Terrible when that happens," Cyrus noted.
"Yes, it seems the poor thing worked itself to death," Lucius replied, and Cyrus could see the man's jaw tighten at the reminder.
"A common occurrence from what I understand. I've never had that happen myself, though I have more than a single House Elf serving me," Cyrus said, rubbing that fact in.
"I saw that the Senior Vice-Director for the Department of International Relations was speaking with you," Lucius said, switching the topic with the grace of a floundering fish. "Did he perhaps have anything interesting to say?"
"I'm afraid not. The poor man who was trying to convince me about the change in tariff laws was clearly uneducated in the nuances of global economics, otherwise he'd never have tried to promote such a short-sighted taxation policy, especially one that would interfere with any trade in France and Spain," Cyrus replied smoothly, while mentally scoffing at the blatant attempt to find out what his opinion was towards the proposal.
"Hmm. Well, I'm sure you'll do what is best," Lucius Malfoy said, delivering a rather unsubtle threat. Cyrus resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the silver-blond man and his wife departed.
"For a man who styles himself a noble, you'd think he'd have better comebacks," Cynthia said in a low voice, and Cyrus snorted.
"It's because Lucius is used to dealing with simpletons who wouldn't know a metaphor from an innuendo," he replied, and his wife giggled.
It was true, too! Lucius Malfoy had been playing in the political equivalent of the kiddie pool for too long and had forgotten what it was like to cross wits with somebody who wasn't a brown-nosing sycophant or a buffoon. Or both, like Fudge.
Minister Fudge was an idiot who'd gotten his position because everyone had wanted a puppet instead of somebody who'd actually do things. It had seemed a good idea in the wake of the Dark Lord's defeat, and he'd voted for him in the Wizengamot, but Cyrus was man enough to admit he'd been wrong.
The current Minister was an easily manipulated stooge, it was true, and because of this, Fudge could be bought by literally anyone with two galleons to rub together. He bounced between sponsors and yes-men constantly, and both Dumbledore and Malfoy were constantly pulling his strings. It'd created a right mess, no mistake about it.
"What will we do if he manages to come through on his threat?" Cynthia wondered, her mood turning serious.
"If Lucius tries to harm our wallets, he'll be in for a rude awakening," Cyrus declared. After all, a certain Squib had been buying ridiculous amounts of his stock recently.
'I cannot believe he seriously bought that much,' Cyrus thought to himself. The patriarch of House Greengrass still couldn't understand! How had that boy done it? Buying multiple tons of ingredients each and every month, and still wanting more! He'd been forced to open up three whole new greenhouses and an orchard to accommodate the amounts Edward Rose nee Hunch desired. And it looked like that wouldn't be enough.
He'd been able to keep up so far thanks to one of his ancestor's brilliant foresight to preserve excess potion ingredients and keep them for later sale. This didn't work for every product, as some, like Mandragora Leaves, just didn't keep well once plucked, even with magic, but plenty others, especially rather basic ones like Wigentree bark, could keep for decades if stored right without magic, and centuries if stasis spells were involved. And the Greengrasses had been stockpiling supplies for generations.
And yet Edward Rose would deplete these formidable stocks of ingredients within a few years if his buying trends continued!
Cyrus shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't fathom it! All thanks to the boy selling to the Muggle world. Something that still worried the Greengrass patriarch. And yet these huge purchases from the Squib of House Hunch were making him money. Lots and lots of it. Edward Rose bought more in a single month than all of Britain's potioneers did in a year, combined!
The tariffs and taxes the Light and Dark factions wanted to impose on him to force a decision would have given Cyrus some trouble before, but now? They were nothing. A bothersome distraction, at most.
'Perhaps I should reach out to Mr. Rose again,' Cyrus mused. 'Hmm… what was it he said? 'Not White, Black, or Grey, but gold plated?' Yes, I think a 'Gold' faction might just be what we need around here.'
Until then, however, he had a boring Ministry party to endure.
111 &&& 111
Remus Lupin POV
The holidays were the worst, In Remus' opinion. Things started to go downhill around Halloween, when he was forced to remember the deaths of his close friends and the loss of two others.
And it got worse come Christmas, as Remus was forced to spend the time alone without friends or family. His mother had died in childbirth, and his father had passed away shortly after he'd graduated Hogwarts from a Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley. One of the first public attacks perpetuated by the Dark Lord's minions, in fact.
Winter was already a bad time to be a werewolf. Fresh snow made leaving tracks behind a pain to clean up after, and it was a lot easier for a Muggle to stumble onto weird footprints when it snowed so much during the season. It was also bloody cold! Werewolves had fur, but not nearly as much as real canines did. A lack of clothing due to the transformation was also a pain to deal in freezing temperatures. Remus had woken up more than once buck naked in the snow. Not a pleasant experience.
Hence, Remus despised this time of year. However, he had hope that things would change for the better in the coming year. Already, he'd seen signs of it.
Finding a job was hard due to his condition. Prejudice in the Magical world kept him from finding gainful employment for very long, and he had no credentials to do much in the Muggle world. The best he could do was take old, broken items, repair them with magic, and then sell them at flea markets and pawn shops. Hardly a stable way to earn a living.
And yet he now had a job that paid well, and had incredible benefits! Remus had been suspicious when Erroneous Hunch's eldest son had sent him a letter, but he'd gone because he didn't really have many other choices.
To find out the former Death Eater's son had been a Squib had been a surprise. To discover he had fully embraced the Muggle world was another. But what really stunned the werewolf was his ambition and drive to succeed. His method had also raised eyebrows.
Seriously, selling magical medicine to Muggles? Insanity! So what if it was technically legal, the Wizengamot and Aurors would have shut him down at the first hint of it! But Edward Rose had done it, and now Remus was making more money than he'd ever done before! In fact, the werewolf was fairly certain he was making more than his own father, who had been a rather high-ranking member of the Ministry before Remus' curse, ever had.
'And all I have to do is use magic to protect the boy's businesses,' Remus mused. It was an acceptable trade-off.
While he was pondering the changes in his life, Remus couldn't help resist when a yawn slipped out. It was growing late, and his Christmas dinner was being digested, making his sluggish and sleepy. The warm, cozy fire was also helping make him tired.
'Better get some sleep,' the werewolf thought to himself. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, and he had plans to have brunch at his boss's house. Little Harry would be there as well, since James and Lily's son was spending Christmas break with Edward.
Remus was glad that Harry was doing well. He hadn't had much time to speak with the boy, yet, but he had let him know who he was through letters. Harry had been understandably upset that Remus hadn't tried to come and try to visit or take care of him, but Edward had come to his defense by throwing Dumbledore under the bus. Something Remus had mixed feelings about.
On the one hand, Remus couldn't help but want to trust the old headmaster. He was a staple of Wizarding Britain, and famous across the world as well for a number of reasons. He'd allowed Remus to attend Hogwarts even after he was bitten by Greyback in retaliation for his father's anti-werewolf laws – which were now being championed by a woman named Umbridge according to what Remus had heard. And for that opportunity, he would always be grateful to Dumbledore.
But it was clear with hindsight that Dumbledore had been less than forthcoming about a number of things. And Edward's scathing rants about the Order of the Phoenix's lackluster ability to fight against the Death Eaters had hit close to home, much to Remus' shame and frustration.
Pushing those unpleasant thoughts aside, Remus rose from his armchair and began to tidy up, levitating the empty tea cup to the sink while adding another log to the fireplace.
Yet before he could make his way to his bedroom, a scratching sound rang out from the front door. Remus froze, head tilted to the side as he listened closely. The scratches… they were being made in a pattern! One he recognized from his days in Hogwarts!
Rushing over with wand in hand, Remus flung the door open, heedless of the cold air that rushed in. It was dark outside, with the only light coming from the house behind him. Yet he was still able to see that a large yet painfully thin wolf-like dog with mangy black fur was staring up at him, tongue lolling. On the back of the dog, there was a small and familiar bat, shivering in the cold.
"Sirius?" Remus whispered in disbelief, staring at the emaciated black dog. In response, the dog began to shapeshift, turning into a tall, gaunt man with scraggly black hair and a ratty sackcloth covering his body and preserving what was left of his modesty. Dislodged from his spot on the dog's back, Wiggles Von Snubs flapped around the newly formed human's head, making cute little noises.
"Hey, Moony," the bedraggled, deranged looking man said, flashing a smirk. "Mind if we come in? It's kinda cold out here."
Chapter 50: Chapter 50: A Very Marauder Christmas
Chapter Text
Chapter 50: A Very Marauder Christmas
I stared at the scruffy man in front of me as he sat on my couch. He stared back.
"So… you're Sirius Black?" I inquired slowly, raising an eyebrow at the man who needed a sandwich, a shower, and a hug. And not necessarily in that order.
"Yup. And you're Erroneous' brat, huh?" the escaped convict replied, before snorting. "You certainly have his chin."
I rubbed my chiseled and very manly jawline. "That's me. I go by Edward Rose these days," I told him. "Pleased to meet you."
"Same," Sirius nodded. "I heard you were the one who caught the rat and concocted that crazy plan."
"That's right," I confirmed. "Uh, out of curiosity, where's Wiggles?"
"Wiggles is back at my place," Remus Lupin said. "He was cold and tired and we thought it was better to have him rest up somewhere warm and safe."
"That's good," I said, glad the bat had survived his mission. He'd been a real useful little cutie.
I had been surprised when, early on Christmas morning, Remus Lupin had come over. I'd been expecting him, since we'd made plans to have Christmas brunch together with Harry, but seven in the morning was a bit earlier than I'd expected.
When Inky had informed me that Remus had brought a black-furred dog along with him, I'd instantly known who it was that'd come with the werewolf. So, I'd grabbed a bathrobe and headed to the door, still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. And that was how Sirius Black and Remus Lupin ended up sitting on my couch.
"Where's Prongslet?" Sirius asked, looking around the apartment curiously.
"Harry? He's at a sleepover with a friend from Hogwarts," I replied. "He should be back around ten or so."
"I see," Sirius replied, slumping a bit.
"You've been rather quite so far, Remus," I said, glancing over at my head of security.
"It's been an interesting few hours," the other man admitted. "Not entirely sure it's all sunk in, yet."
"Ah. Understandable," I nodded sympathetically. "Want some coffee or tea?"
"That would be appreciated," the werewolf nodded, and a moment later Inky popped in with a tray that had a teapot and cups on it, leaving it on the coffee table for us to use.
"What now?" I asked. "I'm not opposed to letting Harry meet you both, in fact I think he needs to do so, but after that…"
As I trailed off, Remus nodded in understanding. "We'll go with your plan to pave the ground for Sirius' trial," he said, before shaking his head. "I still cannot believe they didn't give you one!"
"Blame Crouch for that," Sirius grumbled. "Bastard just wanted to streamline things, especially after his son went and embarrassed him by siding with the Death Eaters. I was supposed to have my trial after dear Bella's, but got tossed into Azkaban shortly after his son was sentenced and tried because of that mess."
'That reminds me, I need to do something about Barty Jr. soon,' I thought to myself while taking a sip of tea to help wake up.
With Pettigrew in my custody and Riddle's diary at Hogwarts, the only person I knew of who was free and willing to help the Dark Lord return would be Crouch's son. Letting him escape during the World Cup in two years' time would be stupid. But I'd need to be careful how I handled that as well, because if Sirius finally got his trial, it would put pressure and scrutiny on Crouch, which might cause his attention to slip, allowing Junior to escape that way.
The future was ever shifting, and I couldn't rely on things still going the way they had in the books. Already there were signs of my meddling causing ripples. Harry not venturing after the Philosopher's Stone was one such example.
"Remus said you had a plan for getting my name cleared?" Sirius inquired, dragging me back to the present, and I nodded.
"Yes. Harry is friends with Amelia Bones' niece. I hope that, through her, we can plant the seeds to make her realize you need a trial. As the head of the DMLA, Director Bones should want to see justice done properly. We just need to make sure she doesn't get too gung-ho about it and come after you. Speaking of, what are the odds they'll realize you're missing from Azkaban soon?"
"The guards are pretty lax this time of year. Food is delivered via magic, so they don't have to visit us personally, and only bother to check on us once or twice a week. The holidays are worse, as prisoners in the upper levels, where they keep the scum like my cousin Bella and myself, might not be checked on until after New Years," Sirius informed me, and I frowned.
"That's horrible, but at least it gives us a few days to freely plan," I muttered. "We need to think of a hiding place for you in the meantime."
'And I'll have to check Flamel's journey for any notes on how to kill Dementors,' I thought privately. Because like Hell I was going to allow those things to roam around the Muggle world or Hogwarts openly!
"You two look hungry," I said after a moment. "I wasn't planning on having breakfast, but it's still pretty early. Want do you want? Waffles? Pancakes? I've got sausages and a rasher of bacon, too."
"All of it," Sirius said, clearly trying not to drool. Remus rolled his eyes, but I got it. He'd been unjustly imprisoned for over ten years. Binging on food was to be expected.
Inky and I started cooking, with us preparing not just the breakfast for my two guests but also the upcoming Christmas brunch.
Pancakes were really easy to make, and I got three dozen of them whipped up and ready to munch on. I served them up piping hot with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg, plus a dollop of whipped cream. A small tureen of warmed up maple syrup was then placed on the table.
The food vanished in a flash. Sirius Black gobbled down ten pancakes in under three minutes, not bothering to cover them in any syrup or use a fork and knife, just grabbing one and cramming it into his mouth.
Lupin ate a bit more sedately, but he also had a major appetite. By the time I brought out some bacon the two men had consumed two dozen pancakes between them.
"You're going to want to pace yourselves," I warned. "Otherwise, you won't be able to handle any of the ham or turkey we've got for brunch."
"Sorry," Sirius apologized. "It's been a while since I've had a meal this good."
"It's fine, just don't complain when you hurt yourself," I replied. "Actually… Inky, can you get some medicine for their stomachs? And a nutriment potion milkshake for Sirius."
A couple seconds later, two vials of stomach soothing medicine appeared next to my guests along with the requested milkshake. The potion-laced drink would help the escaped prisoner assimilate the food he'd just eaten and put some meat on his bones. Seriously, the man was dangerously thin.
'Another reason why Azkaban has got to go,' I thought to myself. The fact that the magical folk of the British Isles had only a single prison and it was guarded by soul-eating monsters was completely insane. Crimes either resulted in fines, banishment, a stint in Azkaban, or death. There were no in-betweens.
And sadly, that seemed to be the case for the rest of the magical world. Only a few magical countries had anything even resembling acceptable jails. France being the foremost one in Europe. It was ridiculous, really.
"Thanks," Sirius said, drinking the tasty shake in a few loud gulps. "Now, what can you tell me about Harry?"
"How much do you know?" I asked, and he gained a scowl.
"Moony told me what he knew. And it didn't make me any more inclined to trust Dumbledore."
"So, was the headmaster really the one who cast the Fidelius?" I asked.
"He was," Sirius nodded. "Dumbledore knew Wormtail was the Secret Keeper, not me! Yet he left me to rot in that hell for ten long years!"
"I was afraid of that," I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Alright, here's what I know, and how I ended up meeting Harry."
Sirius' expression grew increasingly furious as I explained what'd happened after Sirius gave baby Harry to Hagrid. From the abuse at the hands of the Dursleys to the schemes surrounding keeping Harry alone and isolated, to the foolish 'trap' Dumbledore had made to lure in Voldemort to Hogwarts as a means to test the Boy-Who-Lived.
"You-Know-Who is still alive?" Sirius demanded. "You're sure?"
"Pretty sure, yeah," I nodded.
"How? That doesn't make any sense!" the animagus exclaimed.
"I have some guesses," I admitted. "Does the Black family know about Horcruxes?"
Sirius gaped at me in disbelief and horror. Lupin growled. Even if he already knew thanks to me informing him of them, it was still a disgusting thing to even think about.
"How do you-? No, let me guess, the Hunches knew about it too," Sirius muttered. "Makes sense, they were a noble house, once."
"Still technically are, but yes, the Hunches have an extensive collection of literature," I said, lying through omission about the source of my knowledge.
"I want to say he would never do something like that… yet I know someone like him would absolutely do something as heinous as creating a Horcrux to avoid death," Lupin growled, the wolf in him rising to the fore.
"But what did he use as a Horcrux? And where would he have hidden it?" Sirius wondered.
"Dunno. I don't think he'd have hidden it with anyone he didn't completely trust," I said, trying to nudge them towards the right answers.
"His Inner Circle, then," Lupin guessed. "The main families who served him were the Malfoys, the Lestranges, and the Raystones."
"I don't recognize that last one," I admitted with a frown.
"They were wiped out early in the war," Lupin explained.
"Not that anyone will miss 'em," Sirius scoffed. "He was a paranoid bastard, though, so I doubt he let anyone actually know what it was he'd given them."
"Very likely," I agreed.
Our discussion had to be put on hold when a knock at the door drew us attention back to the present, and I got up to answer it. Opening the door, I found Sam on the other side, hands full of bags with food.
"Hey there! Merry Christmas, Ed!" he said cheerfully.
"Sam! How are you?" I asked, hugging him.
"Doing good," he replied, returning the gesture.
"Come on in! Some other people are gonna be here for Christmas brunch besides Harry and Mr. Lupin, by the way," I said as I led him inside.
"Who?"
"Mr. Lupin's friend," I replied. Sam blinked in surprise when he saw the scruffy man waving at him from the dining room table, messy plates in front of him. He recognized Remus Lupin, and had already met him, but the other person was a mystery. Though since he was glaring at the remnants of the breakfast, I knew why he was upset.
"Did you start eating without us?" he asked, annoyed.
"I just made them pancakes," I assured him. "Sam, this is Sirius Black, Harry's Godfather. Sirius, this is my friend Sam Parson."
"Why does he look like he escaped from a prison?" Sam asked warily, causing the man in question to bark out a laugh.
"Because he did," Remus said dryly.
"Wait… is this the guy who supposedly sold-out Harry's parents?!" Sam gasped. "The one who was falsely imprisoned?"
"That's him," I snickered. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Not like anyone would believe me," Sam grunted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Anyways, I hope you properly brined the turkey!"
"Inky and I made sure of it," I promised.
"Alrighty, then. I'll be working on the food with Inky, then," he said, walking towards the kitchenette.
"Young Master Eddie! Young Mister Harry has arrived," Inky informed me a moment later, having detected his arrival.
"Great! I'll go get him," I said, grabbing my coat, shoes, and a paper bag from the closet before stepping out of the apartment.
It was chilly, but there wasn't any snow save a small dusting of it from last night, which was a relief, and I went down to greet Harry.
"Ed!" Harry said cheerfully as he got out of the limo. "Merry Christmas!"
"Hey, Harry," I said. "Merry Christmas as well!"
"And thank you for dropping him off," I said, turning to the limo's chauffeur. "Oh, and could you drop off a couple gifts at the Finch-Fletchleys when you head back?"
"Sure," he replied. I handed over the paper bag with a couple simple magical items wrapped up in Christmas themed parchment. Cosmetics for the missus, boot and medal polish for the mister, and Justin was getting a couple of magical prank items.
I also included an envelope with a hundred Pounds Sterling which was for the chauffeur as a gift for working on Christmas day. I'd done the same for my employees, making sure they all got a nice Holiday bonus which had made them very excited and grateful.
The Finch-Fletchley's driver tipped his hat to me in thanks, and drove off, leaving me with Harry who was practically vibrating with excitement, a bag full of clothes and toiletries from the sleepover in hand.
"Did you have fun at the sleepover with Justin?" I asked.
"I did! His house is amazing!" Harry said, which I could only nod in agreement at. Their house was indeed amazing.
"Glad you enjoyed yourself," I said, genuinely happy for him.
"Is Sam here? And Mr. Lupin?" Harry wondered, and I nodded.
"Yup! They're both here. But, before we go in, I want you to know that there's somebody here to meet you," I told him as I led him inside. "Somebody Remus brought."
"Who?" he asked, curious, but also a little suspicious.
"You'll see," I assured him as we stepped into the apartment. I took his coat and hung it up, letting Harry enter the living room.
"Harry?" Sirius breathed out when he saw the green-eyed boy enter. He stared at the pre-teen as if he was seeing a ghost or hallucination that would vanish if he blinked.
"Um, hello," Harry said nervously.
"Harry, this is Sirius Black," I said, and Harry's eyes lit up in recognition. I'd told him all about the lack of evidence there was towards Sirius Black being guilty, but I wasn't sure if he'd ever decided if he believed in the man's innocence.
"Harry… Prongslet… it's me. Do you remember me?" Sirius whispered, all but begging.
"I-I don't," Harry replied, shaking his head. "But… is it true? Did… did you do it?"
"No! No, I never betrayed your parents! I would never hurt James or his family! He was my brother in all but blood!" Sirius exclaimed, pleading for Harry to believe him.
That was all Harry needed to hear, it seemed, as he immediately rushed over to the other man and gave him a hug.
The two immediately broke down into tears, which made the rest of us tear up as well. But we didn't cry! And anyone who claims we did is a liar! Pics or it didn't happen!
After that, Harry spent the rest of the morning attached to Sirius' side, and he and Remus took turns telling Harry all about his parents. How James had been smitten with Lily from day one, and how Lily had been uninterested in James' pranking ways until their Sixth year, when James had started to mature and straighten up his act.
Not that the pranks stopped, of course. Sirius happily regaled Harry about the antics the Marauders had gotten up to, and there was a lot of laughs from everybody as the mostly harmless pranks were spoken about.
Sirius' mention of James' invisibility cloak had caused Harry to perk up and rush to get it, showing it off to everyone, which had Remus and Sirius impressed that it still worked after all these years.
When the food was ready, everyone was ready to eat. Turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, egg salad, and so much more was piled up onto plates, while sparkling cider filled our cups, and everyone enjoyed the festive mood that suffused the apartment.
And then came the part Harry had been excited for. Presents! Sam got Harry a bunch of fantasy books from a couple of different authors, including Sir Terry Pratchett and Anne McCaffrey. Remus got Harry a broom-care kit. Sirius didn't have anything, but Harry assured him the stories of his parents had been enough. As for my gift? It was one I was giving to both Harry and Sam.
"Merry Christmas, you two!" I said happily, handing out a pair of manilla envelopes to Harry and Sam. "Go on, open them up!"
"Th-this is-!" Sam stammered in shock as he opened what I'd given him, looking at the documents that'd been inside with awe and disbelief. Harry just tilted his head to the side, not really understanding what the gift was.
"Yup! It's all yours," I assured Sam.
Both Sam and Harry were now the proud owners of one percent each of Cauldron Remedies! They could sell it for a huge sum in the future, or keep it and do whatever they wanted with it.
'And that one percent lets them have a say in how the company will do things going forward,' I thought with a smile.
"I don't understand what this is," Harry admitted. Sirius nodded in agreement, looking over his godson's shoulder to read the documents.
"Ah, let me explain," Remus offered.
He then went on to tell Harry and Sirius what 'stocks' were, which gave me a giggle as the two of them couldn't wrap their heads around the convoluted mess that was the Stock Market. I sympathized with them. But was also surprised the werewolf knew about this topic to the extent he did.
Presents continued to be passed around after that. I got Remus a crate of magical energy drinks to help recover from his curse after a full moon. They came from a Native American group in the U.S. who made interesting medicines to help alleviate all sorts of curses. In turn, Remus got me some magical cufflinks that would create a Protegocharm when raised in front of my face, creating a magical shield to deflect minor spells.
From Harry and Sam, I got a book on runes and a collection of video games respectively. Sirius hadn't gotten me anything but I assured him it was fine. He refused.
"I won't let somebody who's helped my godson out so much when nobody else did not receive a gift! The honor of House Black demands it!" Sirius declared pompously.
"More like you enjoy the idea of giving stuff to a Squib because it would cause your harpy of a mother to spin in her grave," Remus said, and the animagus snorted.
"That too. So, just you wait, Eddy! I'll have an awesome gift for you as soon as I can sneak back into my old home and grab something for ya. How do you feel about curses?"
"Not exactly a fan of them, but I'd take a book of curses that can be made with runes or potions if you're offering," I said, causing Harry and Sam to roll their eyes at my request, Remus to shake his head, and Sirius to bark out a laugh.
"I like your style, kid! Sure, I know a couple old tomes that might fit the bill!"
"I'm eighteen," I said. Well, technically sixteen, and mentally I was older than him as well, but my paperwork said eighteen, so who cares about the little details?
Sirius just laughed again, and I chuckled as well along with him.
"So, Harry, how's school going?" Sam asked, changing the topic.
"It's been… going," he said slowly. "Um, just out of curiosity, but do any of you know what the 'Chamber of Secrets' is?"
The three of us with a magical background stared at him. Remus and Sirius because they and I did because I remembered it was a thing. Not having Occlumency to draw on 24/7 had made me… forgetful about things, especially from my previous life, and I wasn't exactly fond of that.
'Oh, yeah, the Chamber would have been opened back during Halloween by Riddle Jr., wouldn't it?' I mused as the two older wizards began to explain to Harry about what they knew, which basically boiled down to 'Salazar Slytherin made to protect Hogwarts and purge the Muggleborn using a monster of some sort.'
"But what exactly is the monster?" Harry asked.
"Nobody knows," I said with a shrug. "But let's look at what we do know. Salazar Slytherin was a powerful wizard. Probably would have been a Dark Lord if he hadn't helped found Hogwarts. And he was a Parseltongue. Meaning he could speak with control snakes. Neat, right?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded, wondering where I was going with this.
"Now, how many dangerous magical snakes are there?" I asked him.
"I don't know," he admitted.
"That's alright, Care of Magical Creatures is a 3rd year elective," I assured him. "Hmm, let's see… there's the two-headed Runespoor, but while one head is exceptionally venomous, the other actually contains the antidote to its own bite, so I don't believe Slytherin would have used it. Then we have the ashwinder, Horned Serpents and Coatls – though we can probably ignore those last two since they're New World magical snakes – and a few others that I can't recall off the top of my head. Though, really, the only possible explanation as to what was used to guard the Chamber of Secrets would be a basilisk based on what we currently know."
"A basilisk?" Harry asked while Sam grimaced recognizing the name from D and other fantasy tales.
"Yes. A truly massive Five X class creature," Remus explained. "They are hatched in a dark ritual where a toad incubates a chicken egg. They are extremely venomous and have magic resistant hides. Worse, however, is that if you look into the eyes of a basilisk, you will die instantly."
"That's right. And a basilisk has only a few weaknesses: The main one is the crowing of a rooster, which kills them upon hearing it. Magically conjured roosters won't work, though. They have to be live ones," I told Harry.
"So that's why Hagrid's chickens were all killed!" Harry realized with a gasp. That caused Remus and Sirius to immediately gain concerned looks. They'd thought this question of his had been purely academic, but somehow, there was somebody going around killing animals?
"Yup. The other weakness basilisk's have is they're still snakes, and thus have to obey a Parseltongue," I revealed. "Although if this beast really is one created by Salazar himself, then I don't doubt he'd have laid protections on it to ward off other Parseltongues taking control."
"Only those two weaknesses…" Harry muttered thoughtfully.
"Yup. I mean, a sword or spear could probably still hurt it, same with combat spells, but I don't think anyone would want to have to fight a giant snake in melee combat. There's a reason they are one of the most dangerous creatures in existence, surpassed only by Nundu and dragons," I said grimly. "And even then, I'd say the basilisk has pretty good odds against the other two if it manages to look them in the eyes or ambush them and land a bite with its venomous fangs."
"Drat, I guess it was too much to hope I'd be able to do something about this myself," Harry grumbled.
"HA! Yeah, no, there's no way in hell I or anyone else here would let you try and confront a freaking basilisk!" I said firmly, Sam nodding furiously in agreement.
"A basilisk in the castle? Are you serious?" Remus asked, looking skeptical of my claim.
"Wait, you're a Parseltongue?" Sirius exclaimed at the same time, seeming to catch onto to what Harry had been implying, and Remus soon gained a shocked expression as he too caught on.
"Oh, um, yes, apparently," Harry said with a nod.
"I know that tone. What happened?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the Boy-Who-Lived, who winced, embarrassed.
"Well, Professor Lockhart restarted the Dueling Club after Halloween, and I had to duel Draco in front of everyone else. And I started winning! But then Professor Snape cheated and taught Draco a spell that summoned a snake. He couldn't control it, though, and it was going to attack Susan! So I just… I yelled at it. And it listened," Harry said, looking down.
"Well, shit," I muttered. "That's… is anyone giving you a hard time for it?"
"Not really," Harry said with a shrug. "The Gryffindors in my year already knew, and it kinda spread to the Hufflepuffs through Susan and Hannah. I think some people are, uh, afraid, but they're not saying anything about. Even the Slytherins seem subdued, like they don't know what to do about."
"Well, just remember that Parseltongue is neither inherently good or bad. Just because some assholes were able to speak it doesn't make you bad by association."
"Yeah, Padma and Parvati were really surprised but didn't seem scared or worried. Apparently they have an uncle or something in India who's also a Parseltongue, and they know it's just another skill. That's really helped, honestly."
Harry then tilted his head to the side. "Actually, a couple of Ravenclaws have been really excited to ask me about it. One First Year, Luna, has been asking me a bunch of questions about what it's like being a Parseltongue and if I could speak with things other than snakes."
"Can you?" Sam asked, curious, and he nodded.
"Yup! I can talk with anything that has a forked tongue. One of the students in Ravenclaw had a goanna lizard and I could speak with it. I think the Ravenclaws want to study me and write a research paper on what I can do," Harry said, relaxing a bit.
"Can we please go back to the part where you think a basilisk is in the castle?!" Remus demanded, and we all winced at his loud voice.
"Uh, well, sometime during Halloween, somebody petrified Mrs. Norris, that's Filch's pet cat by the way," Harry began. "They also wrote 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir, beware!' on the wall."
"Is that all?" I asked.
"No! Colin Creevy, a First Year, was also found petrified in November, before Thanksgiving!" Harry added. "And Nearly Headless Nick was also somehow petrified before Christmas Break!"
'Hmm, good, good, not too many people suffered this time around. And of course I knew Justin avoided his fate from the books already,' I mused, quickly dipping into my Occlumency for a moment. 'It seems that his friendship with Harry has helped him avoid all of that. He's also not antagonistic towards Harry, either. Another plus!'
I was glad that things had happened differently compared to the books. I liked Justin, and didn't want him to get hurt.
"Well, if they're petrified, then it's definitely not a basilisk," Sirius said, relieved. "It's probably a gorgon or some sorta curse. Mandrake draught will fix that right up!"
"Maybe," Sam said, unconvinced. "Harry, was there anything odd about the victims when they were petrified?"
"Well, Colin did have his camera with him… only when they opened it up to see if he'd managed to take a picture of the other person, it seemed like the film had melted," Harry said. "And… hang on, there was water on the floor near Mrs. Norris!"
"Water… and a camera? That's it!" Sam exclaimed. "Reflections! That's why they're not dead!"
"You think the cat and kid saw the basilisk through reflections or some other obstruction and that's why it's gaze didn't kill them?" I asked, though quietly, I was glad Sam had come to the conclusion first. Saved me from having to do it.
"Yes, exactly!" Sam said, and Harry gasped, while Sirius and Remus both looked disturbed. "And Nick is a ghost, right? I bet that's why he got petrified as well. Can't kill what's already dead."
"That's… I suppose that's possible," Remus admitted slowly. "We don't actually know very much about how a basilisk's gaze works."
"A basilisk is in Hogwarts?! And nobody's done anything about it after it attacked a student?! What is Dumbledore thinking!" Sirius snarled.
"Good question," I said. "And have they unpetrified the boy yet?"
"No, the Mandrakes in the greenhouses aren't ripe yet," Harry replied.
"Then why not buy some that are? People grow Mandrakes year round all over the world, they're a key component in Pepper-Up Potions among other things," I pointed out. "Hell, just buy a Petrification Daught from somebody who has them premade, or take the boy to Saint Mungo's! The potions are cheap and they keep for a few weeks before going bad, after all, and a hospital has got to have some in stock in case of emergencies!"
"Incompetence," Sam declared in disgust.
"That or pure, unbridled hubris," I added. "Dumbledore was already on thin ice already after his stunt with the Philosopher's Stone. I don't think we can trust him for much else after this muck up."
I then turned to Harry. "I'm going to send a few letters, and then I'll grab some fresh Mandrakes from a seller I know and brew the damn potion myself! You'll take it with you when you head back to Hogwarts, understood?"
"Right!" Harry said with a firm nod.
"Good," I grunted, before sighing a bit. "Ugh, that brought the mood down."
"Little bit, yeah," Sirius agreed.
"Although now I know why your fortune telling told me to be wary of snakes this year," Harry pointed out.
"Fair point," I nodded. "Let's just grab something nice. Some cookies might help as well."
That made everyone perk up. Nothing like a sweet treat to improve the mood.
And so, another Christmas came to an end. I just hoped the coming year would not be nearly as hectic. I had a feeling that was a long-shot, though. At least this one didn't end in a shootout.
Chapter 51: Chapter 51: Runesmithing
Chapter Text
Chapter 51: Runesmithing
Christmas break ended with little fanfare, but left us with a lot of new things to worry about. Having Harry know about the basilisk ahead of time would hopefully change things for the best. And I'd been able to give him several vials worth of Petrification Draught before he went back to Hogwarts.
Sirius and Remus were also now completely onboard with me and extremely wary of Dumbledore. Though the presence of the former did make things a bit worrisome. Would the crazy Minister of Magic unleash the Dementors again to search for Black? Or would common sense prevail? Odds are we'd be disappointed.
New Years rolled around as well, and it was now officially 1993. So that meant we'd have to step up our game when it came to production quotas. But it also meant that new experiments had to be conducted.
And that was why, in mid-January, I was in a workshop filled with high-tech equipment, ready to begin a brand-new set of tests. With me were several individuals including Remus as my head of security, but also a few engineers and workmen that knew of magic whom I'd hired after the Christmas break.
Sirius Black was also here in disguise. Amazing what some hair dye, a shower, and a shave could do to change a man's appearance! The reason he was here was because he was interested in becoming an investor in my business. He'd been skeptical at first, but several demonstrations and successful experiments had been slowly changing his mind.
"Alright, Laser Rune Experiment 24… start!" I said, making sure the polarized glasses were securely placed over my eyes.
A button was pressed, and a beam of bright light was fired at a thin sheet of steel, carving a series of runes into the surface. Yes, that's right, I was using lasers to engrave runes in order to try and create a magical object!
The difference between laser etching and laser engraving is that laser etching used heat to raise marks on the surface of an object, like bumps and ridges. Meanwhile, laser engraving used heat to remove materials to create deep marks, like grooves and divots and dimples.
In this case, the laser was engraving the runes. Runes worked better that way, I'd found. Less chance of them getting damaged too.
A minute later, the sheet of metal had the runic sequence for Lumosengraved upon its surface. If it worked, the runes along with the steel would glow as if under the effects of a Lumosspell for several hours before needing to recharge.
A fan blew wind onto the steel to cool it as it was extracted, and then an eyedropper was filled up with some of Cauldron Remedies very own recipe of Hair Growth Potion. It was squeezed out and dripped onto the runes, a faint sizzling coming from the still hot metal. We all held our breath as we watched and waited.
"Experiment 24… success," I said as the runic sequence lit up and began to glow as the magic in the potion activated the runes. Cheers erupted and I let out a sigh I hadn't know I'd been holding.
Once more, I'd proven that it was possible to carve runes using lasers. A laser engraver could place the runes onto a sheet of ordinary stainless steel, and then it would only need a spark of magic via a potion or wand to activate.
Furthermore, because a laser could make the runes faster and more precisely than a human ever could, very rarely did a rune sequence come out wrong. It was usually a fault with the material that resulted in failed experiments rather than a problem with the person doing the engraving.
Now admittedly runes that were hand carved by a witch or wizard had an average of 25% improvement in output and longevity, possibly due to magic from the runesmith bleeding over, but it was such a modest dip in efficiency that unless you needed that extra 25% for something that demanded it like a ritual or whatnot, then machine or laser carving was the way to go.
'Now I have to figure out a way to use this discovery,' I thought to myself. What would I do with this knowledge? How could I leverage it? More importantly, how could I monetize it?
"Alright, you've proved me wrong," Sirius admitted when the experiment was over, grabbing my attention. "Apparently Muggles can do magic."
"Surprising, isn't it?" I chuckled.
"I'll say. My mother would be turning in her tomb if she could see this," the scion of House Black laughed with vindictive glee.
"Don't you mean rolling in her grave?" one of the engravers who'd worked on this project asked, and Sirius shook his head.
"Nah, graves are for commoners and Mudbloods, as dear old mum would say. My family has a mausoleum," the lord of House Black explained.
"I do not miss that sort of mindset," a Squib who was working on the project with us griped.
"Neither do I," Sirius agreed with a hearty nod of his head. "And you, Mr. Rose, have an investor."
"Wonderful!" I said, taking his hand and shaking it. "Shall we adjourn to the office to discuss matters further?"
Sirius and Remus walked with me to another room, and then I had Inky pop us over to my room above the factory. The two wizards then cast a couple spells to dissuade eavesdroppers, and we took our seats around my desk.
"What do you plan to do with this discovery?" Remus asked when we were alone in the office.
"A good question," I admitted. "I'm not entirely sure, beyond ensuring all of my factory equipment has runes added. They'll set up to be powered by the wards around the building, so I won't have to worry about constantly recharging them. After that, however, I want to work on trying to find a way to turn them off. I have some ideas, like a dial or sliding blocks that would move runes out of sequence when not in use, so I can disguise some of it as technology. But I'm open to suggestions."
"Making toggleable runes? Crafty," Sirius praised. "I think Lily was working on something like that before… before the incident."
"Indeed? She sounds like an incredible witch. I truly wish I could have met her," I sighed. Both men nodded sadly.
"Let's talk about some good news," I suggested, and they agreed quickly. "I've finished another batch of Oath Binding Ink, so I can finally start hiring new workers. And this time, I've enough of the stuff I should be able to hire a couple of mages."
"I have six you might be interested in," Remus said. "Three are werewolves, and another has a kid who is a werewolf, but they're solid workers who had good grades at Hogwarts. They're also Muggleborn, so they've no interest in running to the Ministry if they find a way around the contracts."
"I see. And the other two?" I inquired.
"Half-bloods, but they suffered a lot from Pureblood bigotry in the Ministry. One was fired for a mistake his superior made, and the last was sexually assaulted by her boss, and quit afterwards when they refused to do anything about it."
"Mmm. They sound like good candidates," I said slowly. "And do they have many attachments to the magical world?"
"Some, especially the Half-bloods, but not enough that they would spill the beans."
"Makes sense. Do you have any info on what they can do, magic-wise?" I inquired.
"Here are their resumes," Remus said, passing them over, and I quickly looked over what was written. All in all, decent looking folks. The Muggleborn even had references from the few jobs they'd managed to work in the mundane world, and I resolved to contact them. And they'd all managed to finished a couple N.E. , which was good, as that meant they had a firm understanding of spellcasting which would definitely help as I began to try and find new ways to market magic to Muggles.
"Alright, let all them know I'll be inviting them over for interviews. Make sure to tell the ones who have lycanthropy about the mandatory time off and free Wolf's Bane Potions," I said after a moment.
"I already have, that was what convinced them to let me put their names forward," Remus said with a smile. "Thank you for that, by the way."
"No problem, I think it's literally criminal the way werewolves are treated by the Ministry. People like Greyback give 'em a bad rep," I replied with a shake of my head. "Now, any ideas for new potions?"
"Have you considered trying to make Skele-gro?" Sirius wondered.
"I have. There's a pretty simple recipe I found. It's just milk, bonemeal, and figs." I confirmed. "Does not have a long shelf life, however. Only lasts a week after being brewed."
"That would be tricky to sell," Sirius muttered.
"But a potion to mend bones would be better sold to hospitals directly in the first place," Remus pointed out, causing me to think it over.
"That might work… I'd have to make a lot more per batch to keep up with demands, though," I said.
"I can help with that," Sirius said. "My family has some properties in England which could be repurposed. And I'd be happy to lease it to you for a reasonable sum."
"Ah, that's thoughtful, but I don't think a mansion would be the best place to set up an industrial scale potion's lab," I said.
"Good thing I'm not talking about mansions, then," Sirius chuckled. "The Blacks made their early fortunes as cursebreakers and ward-forgers. And we had a bunch of buildings out in the countryside we used as test sites where we'd experiment with curses and wards and how to break 'em. Most are abandoned now, and we could rebuild on the land they sit on for whatever purposes we need."
"That could work," I said slowly, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. "And actually, we could use some of them for our own experiments. Testing certain things in London won't be easy."
My mind drifted to the runic weapons I'd been thinking about for a while now, and having a secret spot out in the countryside to test that idea out would be ideal.
"We'll put a pin in that, then," Sirius nodded.
We spent several more hours discussing things, such as the terms and conditions for the investments, as well as other projects we could start researching.
Sirius couldn't exactly invest a lot of money at the moment, as while he had full access to his Gringotts funds as the lord of House Black, people would notice if he tried to extract any of it, and the goblins weren't so eager to work with a known criminal if it meant the Ministry would breath down their necks about it. But he could still get into Grimmauld Place, and there were plenty of treasures in there for us to make use of in the meantime. He could also give us permission to use various Black properties, though he and Remus would have to check to make sure they were safe.
One idea that Remus had thought up had sounded interesting, and that was finding a way to reduce pollution and the build-up of garbage. I'd already had some plans for something like that, but discussing it with the two older men had helped me iron out several details I'd looked over. Namely, how we'd set things up and what spells and magic would be best.
That was why, when the meeting was over, we'd decided that the next business we'd embark on was going to be finding a way to use alchemy and magic to turn trash into treasure. We'd be helping the environment by recycling, and making money off of it in the process. Win-win!
I was, however, starting to have a lot less time on my hands to do much. I was already stretched thin with classes at Oxford and running my business. I needed more time!
'Messing with that sorta stuff is a bad idea, though,' I thought to myself back home at my apartment that evening. 'Even Flamel didn't touch that topic all too often, and the few times he did only prove how dangerous it could be. I simply lack the means to create anything on my own.'
'The only option is to use pre-existing methods of time manipulation. But I only know of Time Turners that aren't that dangerous to acquire, but Ministry would never let me have access to one,' I grumbled. 'The sole Time Turner I know of that'd be available in the near future is in Hermione Granger's hands in the 3rd book, and I don't know for certain if that will still happen. But if it does… I just might have to find a way to steal it in order to get any more work done!'
'If only there was a way to make a knock-off Hyperbolic Chamber like from Dragon Ball Z using runes and enchantments,' I sighed to myself. But I had no idea where to even begin to start with something like that!
Rather than grumble to myself about finding a way to bend time to my whims, there was a lot of homework I had to do, and I pulled out the textbooks and worksheets for my classes to get it done before they were due.
As I opened up one of my history books and idly flipped past the section about the invention of punch cards and computational technology, an idea struck me from out of the blue.
'Computer code is a lot like arithmancy,' I thought to myself, and I was unable to shake it from my head.
There were differences, of course, but the language of ones and zeroes of binary was able to do incredible things purely through numbers. And coding for software, at least what I remembered from my previous life, had been able to the same. Almost like runes, in a way, where long strings of symbols could express all sorts of things!
'Could there be a way for me to combine arithmancy and runes with computer code and create spells powered by electricity instead of magical energy?' I wondered to myself. 'I could add some Philosopher's Stones to the circuit boards to act as a converter, turning electrical charges into sparks of magical energy. Of course, so I'd need to find a way to turn magic into electricity and vice-versa, but once I found a way to do that, the skies were the limit!'
Computers able to cast spells! Advanced technology able to combine magical effects to make them even better!
'Okay, seems like I've found my next path to pursue.' I mused to myself as I began to scribble several complex arithmancy equations in the margins of my worksheets.
My homework could wait. I had more important things to do!
Chapter 52: Chapter 52: Valentine Debacle
Chapter Text
Chapter 52: Valentine's Debacle
It was several weeks after my brilliant idea to combine arithmancy and runes with computer codes and I was back at the office, working on something I'd wanted to do for a while, now.
"Inky, Dobby, thank you both for coming," I said, looking at the two House Elves who'd appeared in front of my desk when I'd called for them. Remus was standing nearby, watching things with an intrigued expression on his face. He knew about my idea and even supported it, and was curious to see if it would play out like I hoped it would.
"Of course! Young Master Eddy called us, and we answered!" Inky said, Dobby bobbing his head in agreement, causing his ears to flap wildly.
"So, I have a few things I wished to discuss. The first is getting more House Elves. You two have been a blessing, but as my company grows, we'll need more."
"That won't be easy, Young Master," Inky said, a sad frown on his face. "Other House Elves do not often leave their homeses."
"True, but that is a long-term plan," I admitted. "The second item is just as important, and the one we can deal with now."
As the House Elves tilted their heads to the side, I took out a sheet of paper from my desk and passed it over to Inky. He and Dobby looked at it curiously. On the paper were a different couple of drawings of outfits, sized to fit House Elves.
They were tuxedos with sharp dress pants designed to look like cute little butlers crossed with a bellhop's uniform. Very cute.
"I know it's against the rules for House Elves to receive clothes from their owners, but there is nothing that says House Elves can't make their own clothes," I said. "As I said, my company is going to grow. And having employees – which you two are – means they also have to look good and present themselves properly. I can't have employees wearing literal rags."
"D-does this mean… we can haves regular clothes?" Dobby asked, looking up at me with wide, watery eyes.
"Yes, it does," I nodded. "Harry agrees with me on this. Go ahead! Make your own outfits! That design is what I think would be best for you two to wear when working. I took your preferences into account."
"M-master Eddy!" Inky gasped happily. "Y-you mean it?"
"I do. Inky, Dobby, feel free to make your own clothes," I said with a nod. Both of them trembled before bursting into tears of joy, touched by my kindness.
"I'm surprised," Remus said after the House Elves stopped bawling and popped away to grab materials to make their new outfits. "You actually pulled it off."
"It helps that I'm not technically either of their… I hate to use the word 'master,' but it is what it is," I replied. "I'm glad that it worked."
I leaned back in my seat. "Plus, they will look snazzy dressed up like that!"
"True, those little uniforms you drew were very cute," Remus agreed.
"Now, I have a date tonight," I declared. "It's Valentines Day, after all."
"No need to rub it in," the werewolf said, rolling his eyes.
"Sure, sure, you and Sirius enjoy Singles Appreciation Day," I drawled. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"No worries about that," Remus snorted.
I waved him off and then left my office to get ready for my date with Delilah back at the apartment.
The two of us had been going strong, having dates on and off all the time, as well as meeting up while on campus at Oxford. We both had our own circles we ran in, but we had some overlap. Eating lunch together every Tuesday was nice.
Dressing up in a nice outfit for my date tonight – not too fancy, but not too casual – I headed out and hailed a cab, which dropped me off at the place we'd chosen for the first part of our date; the movie theatre. Afterwards, we'd hit up a nice restaurant.
I spotted Delilah standing near the entrance and walked over to her, greeting her with a wave.
"My lady, your chariot awaits," I said, giving Delilah a cheesy grin as I offered her my arm. She grinned back.
"That's not much of a chariot," she snickered, glancing at my arm.
"But I am a wild ride," I shot back, waggling my eyebrows. She snorted in amusement at that, but took the offered limb.
It was a bit unconventional to watch a horror movie for a Valentine's date, but we both wanted to see Bram Stoker's Dracula, and we weren't the only couples in the movie theatre watching it. Horror flicks were a great way to have ladies cuddle up into your side, after all.
Afterwards, we went to a restaurant I'd made reservations at. It was a nice place. Good cozy atmosphere, not too expensive, and it served a good salmon steak, something I knew Delilah really liked.
When dinner was finished and we both left the waiters big tips, we decided to walk around for a bit before heading back to my apartment for dessert.
Yet as we were walking down the road, I caught a glimpse in a window's reflection of four faces peering out at us from across the street. And they way they were looking at us gave me a bad feeling in my gut.
"You know, I've seen those men twice this evening in different places," Delilah whispered into my ear, having noticed them as well. "Near the movie theatre and when we were headed to the restaurant."
"Kidnappers? Again?" I asked incredulously, trying not to glare at the men in the window's reflection, lest it give away the fact I was on to them.
"Could be," Delilah replied, also doing her best to avoid looking at the quartet. "Though they could just be observing us."
"Why?" I wondered.
"Maybe my father wants to keep an eye on me, make sure I don't do anything to 'disgrace the Hunt name,' or maybe it's Sir Briar trying to spy on you to steal secrets," Delilah shrugged.
I grunted at that. Mr. Hunt was an unpleasant man. He was very prickly and considered anything that might stain his honor, or rather, his bizarre and backwards definition of honor, to be an evil to be stamped out, ignored, or mistreated until it could be useful to him.
That, unfortunately, often included his wife and daughter, both of whom he seemed to despise. Mrs. Hunt for having an affair – even though it wasn't her fault at all Lucius Malfoy had abused her in secret, erasing her mind with magic after the fact – and Delilah for being born of said 'affair.' It was an uncomfortable situation, but I put up with it because Mr. Hunt had connections I could make use of. And also because I liked Delilah, and she loved her mother, who still loved her husband despite everything.
And Sir Briar was a bitter old man with nothing in his life but his job. His son had passed away in the Blitz back in World War Two, and his wife had died in the seventies. Unfortunately, he was one of my 'sponsors,' so I had to put up with him, but he was often trying to uncover the secrets behind my medicines. Several times he'd tried to slip spies into my factories, but the wards and employment contracts caught them all. He also wasn't a Squib as I'd first assumed based on his enchanted rings, but I still didn't know how he'd gotten them, or what they did.
Thankfully, his industrial espionage was laughable thanks to my magical defenses courtesy of Inky and Remus Lupin, but it was growing annoying. Also, he'd been the one behind my kidnapping a while back, and I had my suspicions he'd also been responsible for Delilah's kidnapping as well two Christmases ago.
But I would continue to put up with the decrepit ghoul until I'd gotten what I wanted out of him. And Sir Briar couldn't possibly live for much longer, right? He was in his eighties, after all!
Yet as Delilah and I tried to continue having a nice date, those four men following us was starting to grate on our nerves. They'd also gotten bolder, trying to sneak closer to us.
"Inky," I whispered under my breath. "Take Delilah and I to the Interrogation Room."
Delilah and I vanished with a pop, appearing inside a seemingly rundown storage room inside a warehouse. But it was a lot more than just that. Runes had been carved into the walls and wards had been erected all over the building, turning what seemed to be a run-down, abandoned site into a secret, hidden facility for more clandestine endeavors I didn't want the public to see. Such as interrogating wannabe kidnappers.
We walked a couple feet away from where we'd appeared, then turned back to face the center of the warehouse.
"Inky, please bring those four men who were trailing us here as well," I requested, and a second later four very confused gentlemen appeared where we'd initially first stood.
I took advantage of their bewildered state and flung a few Paralysis Ofuda that acted the same as the Petrificus Totalusspell, completely immobilizing the target. The slips of paper zipped through the air, slamming into the four men and knocking them down while their bodies seized up and went deathly still. They looked very uncomfortable lying there, but I didn't really care.
I approached the group, then looked down at the men who'd been tailing us with an annoyed expression.
"You bastards tried to ruin our date," I hissed, squatting down in front of one of them.
He couldn't speak, just stare fearfully up at me. The talisman removing all outward ability to move his body, including that of his tongue, though he could still breath through his nose.
"Now, then," I said, folding my arms as Delilah joined me at my side in glaring at them. "You're going to tell me what you were doing, and who hired you."
I took out a new Ofuda and slapped it onto the man's face. It undid the paralysis on his head and he let out a gasp as he was finally able to move his jaw again.
"Y-you bastard! What did you do?!" he shrieked.
"Buddy, you're not the person asking the questions, here," I said with a chuckle.
"Up yours!" the rather vocal man hissed. He then tried a new tactic. "Hey! Help! Somebody!"
"No one is going to hear you," I tutted.
"Let me try," Delilah asked. "Can I have one of you Confounding talismans?"
I nodded and passed the request item over. This Ofuda had the power of the Confunduscharm, which was essentially akin to getting somebody super drunk. They'd be confused and disoriented for a bit, and during that time, their lips were a lot looser.
Delilah slapped the Ofuda onto the man's face, where it began to glow. I smiled as I watched that. As a fellow Squib, Delilah was able to use runes and talismans as well, and I'd made sure to provide her with plenty of both to protect her.
"Tell me why you were after me," she demanded.
"W-we were hired to kidnap you two…"
"By whom?" Delilah asked.
"I-it was Marky Fetters…"
"Who's Marky Fetters?" I wondered. That sounded like a fake name. Or the name of somebody from the Wizarding World.
"C-crime boss… big name in London," the goon sputtered out, eyes glazed.
We asked a few more questions, but there wasn't much else to discover. They were thugs, but weren't even part of Marky's gang, just a couple of street toughs who were used for smash and grab jobs by the various criminals in town who didn't want their names associated with themselves.
Marky Fetters was also, contrary to initial claims, actually a small timer, but he worked for bigger, meaner names as an intermediately and third-party.
"Seems we'll have to pay this fellow a visit in the future," I grumbled while slapping ObliviateOfuda onto the mens' heads. "And impress on him the folly of messing with me and my own."
"Agreed," Delilah nodded.
I stepped back and activated the Ofuda, wiping the last hour from their minds. When they woke in a few minutes, the paralysis would be gone and they'd have no clue they'd been interrogated.
I ordered Inky to take them to a random alleyway in London, and when the four were popped away I grunted in annoyance.
"Well, that was frustrating," Delilah sighed, before hooking her arm around mine. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"Sure. Inky, could you please take us back to my apartment?" I requested. There was a pop, we blinked, and voila, we were standing in my living room.
"Thank you, Inky," Delilah said, smiling at the elderly House Elf. "I love your new uniform, by the way."
I nodded in agreement, causing the diminutive figure to blush. He'd gotten the uniform whipped up in record speed, and he looked like a little butler with that tuxedo of his!
"Young Master and Young Mistress be too kind," he said, ducking his head. I just grinned.
"Glad you like it," I said. "I hope you and Dobby – as well as any other House Elves we recruit in the future – enjoy wearing them. They look a lot better compared to the old rags you used."
Inky vanished, too embarrassed to stick around and keep listening to our praise, and Delilah and I chuckled sorrowfully at that. Inky and Dobby were so unused to genuine compliments that is was honestly sad.
"Well, that wasn't the Valentine's Day I wanted for us to have, but I still have a box of chocolate strawberries I was going to give you if you want to just veg out on the couch for a little bit," I offered. "I also have your favorite Pistachio ice cream."
"That sounds lovely," Delilah said, giving me a peck on the cheek.
I grinned and got the dessert out while she sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, finding a channel that was playing a Monty Python rerun marathon. I joined her, passing her a bowl of green ice cream with chocolate strawberries while I helped myself to some mint chocolate chip ice cream.
It was nice, spending time like this. No worries, no problems to deal with… just us.
111 &&& 111
Two days later, I was driving up to a 'bad' part of town with Remus and Sirius. We'd managed to track down Marky Fetters, or at least the place he tended to do business, rather quickly. It wasn't hard when you had magic on your side.
And, to my surprise, my bone dice had been a lot more accurate and useful than they normally were. Were they perhaps growing stronger the more I used them for divination? Perhaps picking up magical residue that improved their effects?
I didn't know, but thanks to them, I'd been able to narrow down the location of the man who'd arranged for Delilah and my kidnapping. It was the backrooms of a nightclub, which he owned and used as a place to meet with clients and launder money from different gangs.
"I am so glad I got my driver's license," I muttered as I pulled up in front of the club. "Remus, you're going to learn how to drive as well."
"Alright," the werewolf agreed.
"You too, Sirius," I said, turning to the escaped felon.
"I can drive," he retorted, a bit annoyed. "I used to own a motorcycle!"
"You owned an illegally modified flying motorcycle. That does not mean you know the first thing about the rules of the road," I retorted. Sirius just grumbled, unable to refute my logic as we strolled up to the building.
It was the middle of the afternoon, so the club wasn't open yet, but some quick Confunduscharms from my two magical companions let us in through the back.
"Nice little office you've got here, Mr. Fetters," I said strolling into his room like I owned the place. It had a desk, a potted plant, and a very racy pin-up Calander that was two years out of date.
Behind the desk was a man in his early thirties with a bald head and tattoos all over his arms. He looked up in alarm when I kicked the door open, which morphed into fury.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Marky demanded angrily, rising from behind his desk.
"I'm Edward Rose. You sent four men to kidnap me and my girlfriend, Delilah Hunt, on Valentine's Day," I told him, and he paled.
He reached for a gun, but Remus was faster, flicking his wand out and casting a silent Expeliarmusat him. The handgun was sent flying across the room
"What the hell?! You're a wizard?!" Marky shouted in horror, scrambling backwards away from me and falling onto his ass in the process. "Nobody told me that!"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're a Squib," I guessed, and when he flinched, I knew I had my answer.
"Interesting," I muttered. "Remus? Sirius? What do you two think?"
"I know that look," Remus said as he looked over at me. "James and Sirius used to have that same expression whenever they were going to do something stupid and daring."
Sirius snorted. "Oi, I resemble that remark!"
"Please don't kill me! Or Obliviate me!" Marky begged. "I didn't know! I was only told to bring you back here! Nothing else!"
"Don't worry, I won't do anything to you," I told him. "But I have to make sure you don't try and hurt me and my own again. So how about we make a deal."
"A-a deal?" Marky stammered.
"You're going to work for me from now on," I said. "Congratulations, Mr. Fetters. You're now a contractor with Cauldron Remedies."
"I-I am?" he asked, staring up at me in bewilderment.
"Look, from one Squib to another, do you really like living like this? Working for Muggle gangs when your birthright, magic, is out of reach?" I asked him.
"Y-you're a Squib?" he uttered. "B-but what about…"
"Mr. Lupin works for me," I told Marky Fetters, causing him to blink in disbelief. "But back to the main topic. Magic. I can give it to you. No wand, unfortunately, but magic all the same."
To demonstrate, I pulled out a Paralysis Ofuda, and threw it at him. His body seized up as the spell took hold, and I let him experience it for a little bit before walking over and ripping the talisman off of him.
"W-what was that?" he whispered.
"A taste of what I can do."
"But Squibs… and the Statute of Secrecy…"
"What the Ministry doesn't know won't hurt them," I replied. "And there are plenty of ways to use magic without a wand."
I folded my arms. "However, I need you to tell me who hired you. If you don't, then this deal ends right here, right now, and my companions will wipe your memory of the last week."
"It was a guy named Thorton!" Marky shouted, quickly spilling the beans as soon as I stopped talking. "Tall bloke! Widow's peak hair!"
"Thorton, huh? What else do you know about him?" I demanded.
"Nothing! He just gave me ten grand to pinch you and your bird!" Marky revealed.
"Hmm. That's not very useful," I said. "And seriously, only ten grand? I'm worth at least ten times that!"
"I don't ask questions about my clients," Marky replied with a shake of his head. "You don't last long doing that in this business."
"Hmm. Fair enough. Inky? Could you bring me a specialcontract?"
A moment later and my loyal House Elf appeared next to me, startling the information broker. Inky handed over some documents while giving Marky a dirty look, and I laid them onto the man's desk.
"Sign here, and you will be agreeing to work for me. Any attempts to betray me to the Ministry or to reveal my secrets to anybody not already in the know will be severely punished," I informed the other Squib.
"What's the catch?" he demanded.
"Read it and find out," I told him.
Cautiously he stood up, and picked up the contract. He frowned at some parts, but after a couple minutes laid it back down.
"You'll protect me and my business interests?" he asked.
"As long as you protect me and mine," I replied. "We will be working together, after all."
"I can still run my club?"
"Yes. But if you ever receive another request to go after me or anyone I care about? You say 'no,' and then inform me immediately," I stated.
"This is insane," he muttered. "You really think you can sell magical crap under the nose of the Ministry?"
"I've already am," I chuckled. "And they'll have bigger things to worry about soon."
Marky didn't look convinced, but I gave him a confident smile. "Mr. Fetters, I have big plans. And the Wizarding World will either get out of my way or be bowled over."
"You're insane," Marky Fetters muttered, before he still reached for a pen and signed his name on the contract. The ink glowed, binding him to the deal, and he slumped, feeling drained.
"Get out. Please," he muttered, the last word spoken as an afterthought.
"Of course. I expect to see you in my office tomorrow at 10 am sharp. We've got a lot of work to do, after all."
With that, I left a business card on his desk before turning and walking out, leaving my newest employee to ruminate on his life choices up till now.
"This seems like a risky idea," Remus said to me as we walked out of the club.
"Should have just Obliviated the guy," Sirius nodded.
"You two don't understand what it's like to grow up a Squib," I replied as I got into the car. "For a taste of magic, we would do anything. For the opportunity to actually use it and show up the Purebloods who shunned us? He will be loyal. Of course, the contract's magic will help, but I believe he will be an excellent new addition."
"Still, working with a criminal…" Remus muttered.
"I'm not exactly thrilled either," I admitted. "He did try and have me kidnapped, remember? But I'm willing to overlook it. Not like he was the person who ordered it in the first place. He was just the middleman."
Contacts in the underworld would be important, too, distasteful as it was. And Mikey was low enough on the totem pole that bringing him into the fold wouldn't disrupt anything.
"All we got was a name. Thorton," Sirius pointed out.
"He's probably a Muggle," Remus mused thoughtfully. "If he were a Squib, I have a feeling Mr. Fetters would have known. And a Wizard would just use magic to kidnap you himself."
"Make sense," I agreed, before sighing. "Ugh. I hate mysteries."
Both men nodded in sympathy. Then, Sirius snapped his fingers.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" He rooted around in his pockets for something before removing… a newspaper clipping?
"'Sirius Black Escapes Azkaban!'" I read aloud the headline, then blinked. "Holy shit, it finally happened?"
"I can't believe it took them two months to realize you were missing!" Remus uttered with a shake of his head.
"I can," I muttered, and Sirius nodded his head judiciously in agreement.
"Yeah, I'm officially a wanted fugitive!" the last Black declared proudly.
"Technically you're a person of interest since you were never given a trial," I replied. "But that probably doesn't matter to the peons at the Ministry."
"What's the plan?" Remus asked while Sirius pouted and mumbled about 'totally being a wanted fugitive if he wanted to be!'
"I think it's time we send a letter to Harry, and ask him to get us in contact with Susan Bones. Hopefully she can get us into contact with her aunt," I replied as we got into the car. "Although, when I say 'we,' I mean you, Mr. Werewolf."
"What?" Remus exclaimed as I began to drive off.
"Remus, I can't exactly talk with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement about, well, anything. At best she'd ignore me because I'm a Squib. At worst, she'd find out about what I'm doing, or not doing, regarding magical law," I pointed out. "Neither can Sirius. You have to be the intermediary for this."
"I expect a raise," he grumbled, folding his arms but accepting his new task.
"You will get one," I promised. "Anyways, I'm hungry. Who wants to stop for some fish and chips?"
"Oh! Oh! Me!" Sirius said, waving his hand like a child in the backseat.
"It's a little early for lunch, but I suppose I could go with something like that," Remus reluctantly agreed. "But not too much fast food! It's unhealthy."
"Yes, mom," Sirius drawled, and while the other man spluttered, he leaned over to me. "He was like this back in Hogwarts too, ya know. Never understood why such a stickler for the rules hung out with two troublemakers like me and James."
"Somebody had to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. Well, stupider," Remus stated indignantly.
The two then began an argument about who had been more responsible for some of their deeds back in the day. I just snickered as I listened, amused by their antics. And a little bit surprised by just how many of the pranks the werewolf had been the instigator of.
It was nice. Only thing that would have been better would have been finding out who the hell tried to have me kidnapped!
'Soon, though,' I vowed to myself. 'They won't be able to hide forever!'
Chapter 53: Chapter 53: Silver Sword of Justice
Chapter Text
Chapter 53: Silver Sword of Justice
The morning after the full moon of March 8th, Remus entered my office with a serious expression on his face.
"What's wrong? You look like somebody died," I asked, looking up from my paperwork. "Also, don't you have the day off?"
"Did you give us new potions?" he asked, and I frowned.
"You mean the Wolfsbane potions? No, they're the same recipe I've been using since I hired you."
"Well, something was different this time," he told me. "The wolf… was unusually quiet. And when I woke up… there was less pain that usual."
"Odd," I murmured, trying to think about what I may have done differently.
Lycanthropy was a strange and old curse, and the potion used for it was relatively new, especially for the Wizarding World. Less than two decades old!
The Wolfsbane potion acted like a sedative. It had to be drunk before the transformation, usually around dusk for best effects. Then, the werewolf would become docile. The human side would be asleep and unaware of anything during the transformed state, but at least with the Wolfsbane potion the werewolf would be too addled to do anything. It was like giving catnip or silvervine to a cat. They just stayed in one place and sort of zoned out until the transformation ended.
"I think I know what may have happened," I said slowly. "I used a different source of silver powder than usual."
"How do you mean?" Remus asked seriously.
"You know how we've been expanding into the garbage disposal business? Taking junk and using alchemy to turn it into stuff we can resell or use ourselves?"
"Yes, I'm aware," Remus nodded. I chuckled. Of course he did, he'd had to expand the security forces to cover that new business as well, meaning he'd been working extra hard these last few weeks.
"Well, silver isn't exactly cheap, not even in the magical world, so I took some of the silver that was reclaimed from the alchemical recycling methods in this month's Wolfsbane potion," I explained.
"I see," the werewolf muttered. "I think that might be why I felt so different. The alchemically transmuted silver gave the potion a stronger effect."
"Interesting if true," I mused, though it sounded right. The alchemical recycling method I used would have separated the base metals from all impurities, making it as close to 100% pure silver as possible. Something that was difficult to obtain even when using magic to mine the stuff.
"Also, tell us next time you change the ingredients or the way you obtain them," Remus requested, giving me an exasperated look.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think there'd be any major difference!" I apologized.
"I know. Still, if the transmutation process had been even a little off…" Remus trailed off and shook his head. "Well, I think you know what would have happened."
I nodded with a wince. There would have been four werewolves whom their family would have assumed were properly sedated, but actually weren't. They could have attacked somebody!
"There's a reason why alchemy isn't so widely practiced despite how useful it can be," Remus added in a warning tone. "It's a precise and demanding art, even more so than potions, and a single misstep can result in failure. Often times fatally."
I bowed my head, properly chastised. "Again, I'm sorry, Remus."
My head of security grunted but nodded, accepting my apology.
"Anyways, since I'm already here, might as well get some of my own work done," Remus sighed, and I gave a commiserating chuckle.
"Paperwork, eh?"
He just nodded and left, heading to his own office. I watched him go before silently making a note to give him and the other werewolves (and person who had a werewolf child) a small bonus this month as an apology. Remus had been right, I should have told them I was changing where I was getting some of the ingredients for the potion.
'Hmm, while I'm thinking about it, I better go check on the garbage disposal project,' I thought to myself. It was going to be a real moneymaker for me once it really got going. Alchemy as well as transmutation were the keys to a lot of high-tier magic, including the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, something which I still wasn't willing to attempt with my meagre skills.
Decision made, I finished up the work in front of me, made some appointments and called some people, and then headed out, Inky teleporting me to where I wanted to go.
The garbage disposal and recycling facility I'd built was far away from the potion factory. It was technically still in London, but at the very edge. This was for a couple of reasons, secrecy one of them. But also, nobody wanted trash near them.
The facility was pretty big. It had a partially enclosed area for garbage trucks to enter, while the trash itself was piled up in a large, sprawling heap in a fenced in area that was exposed to the elements. All in all, a very common looking junk yard. I'd gone for the name Citrine Services for my new business. Named after the Citrinitas stage of Alchemy as an homage, I had a lot of hope for this one.
As I got closer to the facility's parking lot, there was a familiar face standing out front the main building waiting for me.
"Morning, Mark," I said, greeting the 'reformed' criminal in charge of my new business. He preferred to be called 'Mark' instead of 'Marky,' so I used that instead.
"Yo, boss," the bald man said, giving me a polite nod. He had been working hard ever since I'd forcefully hired him, and had been very quick to embrace my ideas of using magic to turn a profit.
Marky Fetters' quick change of heart had been surprising at first, but thinking it over, made sense. He was a Squib, and I was giving him the chance to not only make money using magic, but also thumbing his nose at the Wizarding World. What more could a Squib ask for?
Some bigoted opinions towards Muggles had also rubbed off on him during his upbringing among his Pureblood family, sadly. While these thoughts had lessened over the years of having to live alongside non-magicals, Mark still held some of them, and did not like having to work for Muggles. Working for a Squib like myself was much more palatable for the former criminal information broker and middleman. I would be doing my best to reduce the vitriol he felt towards Muggles all the same.
"How are things going?" I asked as I stepped inside. Unlike what the sight of mountains of trash might lead someone to believe, the buildings inside the junkyard didn't stink. Runes and wards kept the stench out, and complimentary cleaning charms ensured the vehicles and uniforms stayed stink and stain-free as well.
"Things are ramping up," Mark said with a nod. "We've just gotten the contract to handle garbage pickups in Harrow, and Sutton is very interested in our rates. We also bought out two more disposal companies. Full benefits and retainment of the employees included, as you wanted."
"That so? Excellent work!" I praised. "That makes three of London's boroughs our trucks are getting trash from!"
"I think we should slow down a bit, though," Mark suggested, tempering my excitement. "We're already working at full capacity and adding Harrow to the schedule is gonna stretch things real thin until we can get more workers and expand the 'recycling' facilities."
"Good point," I admitted after a moment. "What do you need for that to happen?"
"More Squibs and magicals, boss," Mark replied instantly. "Using lasers to carve the runes and alchemy transmutation formula was ingenious as it cuts down on time and reduces accidents due to mistakes in the arrays from unsteady hands, but we still need people with some magic to actually use them."
"Squibs and discontent Muggleborn are not as numerous as I'd like, though," I said with a sigh.
Despite how much more common they were in recent decades, Squibs were still a minority, with fewer Squibs born per year than Muggleborn. And with no more than two dozen Muggleborn attending Hogwarts every year for the last century, that really said a lot about how rare magical talent actually was amongst the human population.
"I'll put out feelers," Mark promised. "I still know some people on the other side."
"I'll put you in contact with Archibald Tarsworth," I said after thinking it over. "He also has connections in the magical world and knows the right people to talk to in the Ministry regarding Squibs."
"Any little bit helps," Mark agreed with a nod. "Now, take a look, we've streamlined the process pretty nicely I think."
He led me to a balcony that overlooked a large pit inside the junkyard. It had a roof, but that was about it, and dump trucks just drove up to the edge and dropped trash in until it was full.
"Everything being dumped in here is trash. Everything that can't be recycled easily. We're talking food waste, medical waste, and the like."
"What about electronics?" I inquired.
"If a Reparotalisman can't fix it, it's also disposed of," he replied, and I nodded in understanding.
I nodded. The Reparospell and the Ofuda talismans that mimicked it worked by pulling all the broken parts of an object back into said object then magically reattaching them. It wasn't perfect, and if pieces were missing and too far for the spell to latch onto – which was generally further than a yard or two – then it would still restore as much as possible.
A vase with a missing shard would still have said shard missing when repaired, for instance. And the more complex the item, like a computer, the harder it was for it to keep working even if every part of it was reattached perfectly.
"Now, we usually do this when the pit is full, but I'll give you a demonstration right now," Mark said, walking over and flipping a switch. A dull alarm began to blare and lights flashed, followed by the shutters to the dump truck drop-off site closing, preventing any further entry.
"That alarm tells people to stay away," the Squib explained to me, before leading me over to another part of the balcony. There was a door, and he unlocked it, ushering me inside. The room had large windows that let a person inside look down onto the trash pit and the surroundings without any issue.
Mark joined me, then headed to the wall next to the windows. He then pressed his thumb onto a rune which glowed, and then an illusion charm faded, revealing a box on the wall next to the rune that sort of looked like a fuse box. Mark then opened the box with a key and his thumbprint again, revealing a large golden plate covered in complex runes and alchemical sigils. There was also a bottle of my Wiggenweld healing cream and a tiny silver knife in a comportment next to the golden plate.
"Care to do the honors?" he inquired, gesturing to the knife. I nodded and took it, slicing my own thumb open and then smearing my blood onto the center of the plate.
The sigils and runes began to glow an eerie, ruby red, and then that same glow began to emanate from the trash pit. Starting from the bottom, the light enveloped everything, and then it flashed.
I blinked away the spots in my eyes while smearing the Wiggenweld cream onto the cut. Then, I stared into the pit. It had previously been half-full of broken furniture and bags of trash, but now? It was empty! I could now see that the pit was lined with stainless steel that was covered in complex runic sequences and alchemical symbols.
Grinning, Mark motioned for me to follow him, and he lead me out of the balcony room, and down towards the pit. But he then took me off to the side into the warehouse attached to the garage that was full of row upon row of plastic and steel storage drums, shipping containers, and storage bins.
"It wasn't easy setting up the spells to sort everything, nor was it easy to target specifical materials. But check it out!" Mark happily waved a hand towards the containers. He opened one up, allowing me to see it was full of shiny golden pellets!
"Brilliant!" I breathed out.
"The alchemical formula you gave us breaks down anything within the pit into its basic components. Then, the wards and runes separate them by elemental composition and apparates them into their respective containers inside of the warehouse," Mark said giddily. "In the two weeks we've been operating, we've managed to 'recycle' close to forty metric tons worth of trash and turn it all into easily reusable materials!"
Mark showed me around some more. "Metals are their own thing, as well as carbon. Water, nitrogen, and the other gases are stored separately in vacuum sealed containers. Plastic, paper, and oil are also kept in their own areas. Fireproofing wards keep them safe from any accidents that might cause them to catch fire. And we use Vanishing charms on the radioactive materials that sometimes crop up."
I nodded. Vanishing charms didn't actually destroy things, nor did they teleport the target away, they simply broke them down and scattered them on a sub-atomic level. It was completely safe and non-lethal. Toxic and radioactive substances were effectively rendered inert this way as they were rendered down into particles too small and too spread out to clump together and cause issues with living things. We still made sure to check the health of everyone involved afterwards, of course. But so far it seemed to be working!
"It's working just as I envisioned it," I murmured, awestruck by it all. I'd known it worked for a while. After all, we'd been doing this for a few weeks now. But to see it happen before my eyes? To know the countless hours of hard work and study to not only come up with the plan, but to also the implantation, as well creating the runic sequences and alchemical formula necessary to make it all happen had successfully paid off?
There was no other word to describe it except 'euphoric.'
"Yeah. Thank God and Merlin this place is so close to a Leyline, otherwise we'd never have been able to get enough energy to use the alchemical formulas," Mark said, and I nodded. It was why I'd chosen this location in the first place.
Without a dozen wizards or a Philosopher's Stone or two to provide the insane energy requirements, the only other way to obtain so much magic to power the exceedingly complex runes sequences and alchemy formulas I'd come up with was to use a Leyline, and those were somewhat rare. Most magical sites were built on them. The Leaky Cauldron, the Ministry, and all the other parts of Magical London only existed thanks to the small convergence of three Leylines nearby. Hogwarts was built atop four. Stonehenge, the most important mystical site in all of England? Seven Leylines. Only a few other places in the world had that many Leylines connected together.
And one of Stonehenge's seven Leylines ran right through the junkyard, which was why I was able to draw so much magical energy from it in order to power my wards, runes, and alchemy.
"Well done," I praised with a wide grin. "Do you have any suggestions for improvements?"
"A few," Mark admitted. He gave me some ideas about ways to streamline the process as well as selling off the reclaimed materials. Gold, silver, and other metals, both precious and otherwise, could be sold or used for our own needs. Magic worked a lot like electricity in that gold and silver and other conductive metals could channel it far more efficiently when incorporated into runes and enchantments.
The rest of the stuff, like paper, plastic and oil? Best to be repurposed. The oil could fuel our trucks and cut down on the price of gas. Plastic could be melted down and used for a variety of uses. And the paper could be made into new Ofuda talismans. There was going to be very little waste.
"And like I already said, we need more magical folk," Mark added. "Squibs like you and me can only go so far."
"True, but like I said, recruitment isn't easy," I reminded him.
"Well, we don't actually have to go looking for humans if we need magic users," the older Squib reminded me.
I blinked, then slowly nodded my head. 'Of course! Why focus on human spellcasters when there are plenty of other people the magical world has sidelined who need jobs!'
I'd become somewhat tunnel visioned while setting up my business, and nearly forgotten there were all sorts of different species living alongside humanity in the Wizarding World! Vampires, Hags, Goblins, Centaurs, Mermaids, Veela, Dwarves, and so many more!
And all of them had been pushed to the fringes by human encroachment. Magical Britain was bad when it came to treating 'Dark' creatures, which was what all non-human sapient beings were considered, but some countries had it even worse! The only ones that were truly tolerant and welcoming were France and the United States. The rest were, at best, disdainful.
Most importantly, all of them could use magic. While they might be banned from using wands in Magical Britain, that didn't stop them from being able to use other forms of magical foci like runes and Ofuda.
Hags were well-known for their potion brewing skills, so they'd fit right in with my main business. Vampires would make excellent night security watchmen, and Dwarves rivaled Goblins for their craftsmanship. Those three were the species most likely to work with us, and some of the most numerous in Great Britain.
"Mark, you're bloody brilliant," I praised, and he puffed up his chest proudly.
"Don't mention it, boss," he replied with a grin. "If you want me to, I'll reach out to a couple people on the other side I know might be interested."
"See if you can get into contact with some Dwarves, first," I instructed. "They'd be easiest to incorporate into our business right now. We'll need their runecrafting and enchanting abilities. Plus, they could be the easiest to pass off as, uh, 'little people' if we need them to work around any Muggles. Which they likely will have to at some point."
"Ah, hadn't thought of that," Mark nodded. "Got it, I know a guy who knows somebody who works for one of the Dwarven Thanes over in Wales."
"Great," I said with a grin as I thought about what I could do with a whole bunch of non-human magicals at my side. "I'll be heading back to the office for now. Yourself?"
"Gonna head over to the club. Working two jobs isn't easy," Mark chuckled.
"Tell me about," I agreed. I called for Inky a moment later and I was whisked back to my office in the factory. Where, to my surprise, I found Remus pacing back and forth waiting for me.
"What now?" I asked him, and he jerked in surprise before handing me a letter. It was from the wizarding world. The parchment and quill writing gave it away, really.
"Took her long enough," I grunted, reading it over. It was from Amelia Bones, Susan's aunt. We'd asked Harry to help out with this, and since he knew it was about Sirius Black, he'd done so with gusto.
Still, even with a line of communication open, Madam Bones was still a busy woman and a hardline member of the Grey, or Neutral faction. She didn't trust Dumbledore, which was why she wasn't a member of the Light party. She seemed to think he had too many fingers in too many different pies, and he should just focus on one job and let other people do the rest. Which to be fair I also believed.
From what Remus, Sirius, and my own contacts in the magical side had told me, Madam Bones also had some Pureblood biases. She was a Pureblood, her niece was a Pureblood, and she'd gotten her job through a combination of competence and Pureblood favoritism, and was known to also promote and favor Purebloods over the rest.
Madam Bones also didn't seem to have any real opinion on non-humans. She didn't view them as 'Dark creatures' like so many others in the Ministry did, but she was a fervent believer in the Letter, not the Spirit, of the Law, and so would follow any orders and rules no matter how little she approved of them. Annoying, but in a way that helped us with Sirius Black's case considerably.
'If we can prove that Sirius never had a trial then her own sense of justice will demand her to take action,' I thought to myself. 'Add in some Pureblood bias, she'll want to have Sirius have his day in court because it sets a dangerous precedent to allow something like this to happen. Anybody could be tossed into Azkaban if they displease the Ministry.'
After reading her letter I handed it back to Remus. "We need to get ready. She's willing to meet with you in private tomorrow at the Rosewater, and reading between the lines it's only because she believes you might have some insight as to Sirius' location or mindset."
"I'll get right on that," Remus said with a nod. "I'll bring all the evidence with me as well."
"Just remember to keep mention of Sirius' innocence and Pettigrew's guilt out of it for the moment," I warned.
"I know," he assured me. "I won't mess this up."
I smiled at him, then waggled my eyebrows suggestively. "Alrighty, then. Shall we prepare for your date tomorrow?"
"You're spending too much time with Sirius," the werewolf grumbled, looking away in embarrassment. I just cackled. Too easy!
111 &&& 111
Remus Lupin POV
Remus resisted the urge to tug at his collar or straighten his tie. He wanted to project an image of confidence, and that would be ruined if he fidgeted about nervously.
Never mind the fact that the Rosewaterwasn't the sort of place he would normally go, meeting one of the most powerful women in Magical Britain was nerve-wracking. To calm himself, he looked around at the place he was waiting. Not because he was looking for an escape route if he had to leave quickly! Anyone who claimed that to be the case was a liar!
The Rosewaterwas an upscale café within Horizont Alley that generally catered to individuals in the upper end of society or who worked at the Ministry. It was also a popular date spot for many people.
Finally, after waiting for ten minutes in a corner of the shop, Madam Bones appeared, sweeping into the place like she owned it. And maybe she did. House Bones had invested in many small businesses in the magical side of things over the generations, after all.
Remus took a moment to observe her. Madam Bones was a thirty-something woman with a stern face. She had blonde hair done up in a tight librarian bun and curious bone-grey eyes, a unique trait of her family. She wore a monocle over her right eye that was enchanted, though with what spells he had no idea. Dressed in her official Ministry robes, she projected a stern and powerful persona that had the werewolf straightening up as she approached. She was also wearing perfume which had his nose tingle, his sense of smell still sensitive only a day and a half after the full moon.
"Mr. Lupin," she said curtly in greeting.
"Madam Bones," he replied. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"I admit, I wasn't going to," she stated bluntly, sitting down across from him. "But my niece repeatedly insisted. So. Here I am."
"What can I get you two?" a waitress asked.
"Rose hip tea," Bones requested, naming one of the store's specialty drinks. "Mix in two dollops of whipped cream and a drop of honey."
"Earl Grey with milk," Remus said, placing his own order a moment later.
"Anything to eat?"
No, thank you," Bones said, and Remus also shook his head. The waitress left to fill their orders, leaving the two alone.
"I will tell you upfront that another reason I agreed to humor my niece about this date is because I was hoping to…"
"D-date?" Remus spluttered, interrupting her. He was incredibly glad he hadn't been drinking anything at the moment.
"Yes? Is that not why you're here?" she demanded, raising an eyebrow.
"I think Harry and your niece have the wrong idea about why I was asking to meet with you," Remus sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"I see," Bones said slowly, and Remus wasn't able read her emotions or expression. Still, her words sent a shiver down his spine and he didn't know why.
"The truth is, I was hoping to talk to you about… Black," Remus said, making sure to add a lot of bitterness to his friend's name.
"Ah. That was what I was hoping to talk to you about as well," Madam Bones admitted. "Your connection to him might help me understand where he has fled."
"You don't know where he is?" Remus inquired, trying not to sound hopefully. That would give away the wrong message.
"That is Ministry business," she said crisply.
"That means 'no,'" Remus drawled, and when she bristled, he held up his hands in surrender. "My father used to work for the Ministry, Madam Bones. I know the nuances behind political double-speak."
She let out a quiet 'humph,' but said nothing as a silver tray with the order came floating down onto the table. For a few minutes neither spoke, but of them sipping at their tea.
"Regarding your… request, I have one of my own," Remus admitted.
"Tit for tat?" she inquired.
"Yes," the werewolf nodded. "You see, I tried asking around for some information on Black when I read he'd escape in February, but I didn't find what I was looking for. I wanted to see if you might know."
"Very well, I can oblige your request if you answer mine," Madam Bones replied. "What do you seek?"
"Did Black ever have a trial?" Remus said. She blinked.
"Beg pardon?" she demanded.
"A trial. I found no news articles from the time in back issues of the Prophet, nor did the clerks and functionaries at the Ministry mention anything like that. So I was hoping you could help me with that."
"Why do you want to know?" Madam Bones asked.
"I want to know 'why,'" Remus replied, clenching his fists. "Surely the transcript of the trial would have that information. Surely somebody asked him why he betrayed James and Lily and murdered Peter!"
Remus knew he was playing on her emotions. She'd lost a brother and his wife to the Death Eaters. And every victim of a crime wants to know 'why them?' He just hoped his acting was good enough.
There was another moment of silence, but the tension had somehow only gotten worse, and Madam Bones stared into her tea cup. Was she trying to perform tea leaf Divination?
"I do not know," she said. Then, she repeated it. "I do not know."
And the way the head of House Bone spoke, she sounded confused, and maybe a bit horrified to not have the answer.
"I see," Remus said with a sigh. "In that case, I will answer any questions you have about Black, as we agreed."
Madam Bones shook her head to clear it. "Good," she muttered. "Where would he likely go? Would he go to ground in the old Black manor?"
"It's unlikely he'd head to his family home," Remus informed her. "He hated that place. It would also be the first place to look. And anybody with Black blood could check it out. I believe you have an auror who is the daughter of one of his cousins, yes? She might be helpful in that regard."
It wasn't even a lie, either. Sirius had refused to return to his family manor at all since escaping.
"Ah, yes, trainee Tonks," Madam Bones muttered. "She has done well in her training. Top marks, I believe. And under Moody's tutelage, no less. Yes, I think I could trust her with a mission to sweep the Black House. No need for a warrant either if it's family checking in on family."
Remus winced in sympathy for Sirius' niece. Mad Eye Moody was a bloody good Auror, but his training left something to be desired. He remembered James and Sirius complaining about it when they'd been going through Auror bootcamp.
"Sirius might head to the continent," Remus continued, spinning a yarn. "I know the Blacks had acquaintances in Romania and the Balkans."
"Hmm, tricky, but I'll let word out to the foreign Ministries about that," she hummed.
"And, I am hesitant to say this, but since it will help catch him, I will let you know in confidence," Remus said, acting hesitant and leaning in. Both Sirius and Edward had thought of this next plan, and Remus agreed with it.
"I am listening," Madam Bones said.
"Black was an unregistered Animagus. So were Peter and James," Remus revealed, causing her to stiffen in shock.
"Beg pardon?" she uttered.
"You know about my… problem, yes?" he asked her, and she nodded. "Well, the three of them found out about it when I was at Hogwarts. And so they studied how to become Animagi, learning how to transform in our Fifth year. They would spend every full moon with me in their animal forms, because a werewolf won't attack animals. And it seems to be the case with Animagi as well."
That tidbit caused Madam Bones to gain a funny look as she thought it over. "That's how Black escaped," she realized. "The Dementors do not affect animals the same way as humans!"
Remus nodded at that, impressed. She caught on quick.
"But then he could have escaped at any time," she began to mutter. "Why now?"
"I do not know," Remus claimed. "I fear he might be after Harry. He likely heard about him from the guards, and found out he enrolled in Hogwarts last year. He may have been biding his time for the right moment to break out."
Remus then put on a thoughtful frown. "Though why he didn't bother freeing his fellow Death Eaters eludes me. Did he not think they could escape with him? Or was there another motive?"
He felt he was laying it on a bit thick, but it was part of the plan. Get her thinking, and get her suspicious.
"I see," Madam Bones hummed, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You have given me much to think about."
"Of course," Remus replied, bobbing his head. "If possible, could you let me know when you find Black's trial transcripts?"
"Of course," Madam Bones echoed. "Hmm. I suppose this has been a productive meeting."
Remus nodded and took a sip of his lukewarm tea.
"I would not be opposed to it happening again," Madam Bones added, causing Remus to cough a bit in surprise.
"Huh?" he uttered dumbly.
"Only to keep in contact and exchange information!" she claimed. "Do not think it means anything else!"
"Right, yes, I understand," Remus said, awkwardly wiping his mouth. "I wouldn't mind either, I suppose, if that's the case."
"Excellent," Madam Bones said, rising from her seat. She then dropped a sickle into her tea cup as payment, which vanished. Afterwards she strode out, leaving an utterly perplexed werewolf in her wake.
"…What just happened?" Remus wondered as he blinked in confusion. He wasn't sure why, but he had the strangest feeling somebody was laughing at him.
Chapter 54: Chapter 54: Newspapers and Snakeskin
Chapter Text
Chapter 54: Newspapers and Snakeskin
"Ooo! Listen to this one!" Sirius giggled before reading aloud an article from a magazine. "'Madam Bones was seen at the Rosewaterin the presence of Remus Lupin! Does the tight-laced Director of Magical Law Enforcement have a new paramour? And if so, does she like them wild and dangerous?'"
"Please stop," Remus begged, but that only caused his friend and roommate to laugh harder and read more from the latest issue of Witch Weekly, the premiere magazine for magical ladies.
Remus had thought nothing would happen after the meeting with the director. At least not for a few days, at least, as she looked into Sirius Black's trial, or lack of it. But it seemed some people had been snooping, and hadn't hesitated to gossip about it.
And thus his 'illicit rendezvous with a secret lover' had been plaster all over the gossip-filled rag during its next issue.
"At least no one will suspect what you two were actually talking about," I snickered, watching as Remus shot me a glare. I just grinned back, and he huffed before looking away.
"Why are you here?" he instead demanded of Sirius. The disguised felon just waved the magical magazine cheekily in response.
Remus and I had been in my office going over ways to integrate new werewolves into the team, as well as coming up with ways to work with the non-humans I wanted to bring onboard, when Sirius had barged in, magazine in hand. He'd then conjured a chair and begun teasing his old friend by reading aloud from the articles within.
"Well, now that you've had your 'fun,' you can go," Remus said, gesturing impatiently towards the door.
"I'm going somewhere with this, I swear!" Sirius claimed. "What we should do is buy up as much control of the newspapers as possible!"
"Besides the Daily Prophet, there's really only the Quibbler," I pointed out. "There are magazines such as Quidditch Monthlyand Witch Weekly, certainly, but unless you think we should start up our own newspaper – which actually isn't a bad idea – we don't have the capital necessary to purchase controlling shares."
"Nah, we don't need to do that," Sirius scoffed.
"And how exactly would you go about doing this plan of yours?" Remus wondered.
"Nine families own the Daily Prophet, with the Ministry of Magic owning ten percent as well," Sirius replied. "The Blacks are one of these nine families. When my name is cleared, I'll be able to claim another ten percent, and maybe even a third! I'd then own thirty percent of it!"
"How?" I asked enviously.
"The Lestranges owned ten percent. But they're all in Azkaban or dead," Sirius replied. "See, the Blacks used to control a full thirty percent. And that ten percent the Lestranges have was darling Bella's dowry. If their family died or something caused the dowry to be rescinded, however? Well, then it would default back to the House of Black. Aka, me."
"And let me guess, the other family the Blacks gave ten percent to was the Malfoys via Narcissa's dowry?" I inquired.
"Bingo," Sirius winked. "Won't be easy to get it back from Lucius' slimy fingers, but the shares technically still belong to House Black. They're just owned by Narcissa and held in trust. Lucy-boy just controls what happens with them and the money they make thanks to being her husband. Aren't archaic and patriarchal codes of law great?"
"I guess you could disown Narcissa, meaning the Black shares would revert back to your control, though you'd need a good excuse to do something like that," I mused thoughtfully.
"I have a few ideas," Sirius said with a dark smirk.
"And how does this lead to use getting our hands on Witch Weekly?" Remus asked, wishing for his friend to hurry up and get to the point.
"Right, well, fifty percent of Witch Weekly is owned by the Potters, thanks in part to Lily's clever money managing ideas," Sirius informed us, and I blinked. I hadn't known that!
"Witch Weeklyisn't just read in the UK, either," I muttered, seeing where he was going with this! "It's sold across the Americas and Europe as well. It has a much higher reader count than the Prophet, so if we wanted, we could use it to influence all kinds of people's opinions!"
We could use it to start making a difference in the wizarding world, which was usually so slow and resistant to change!
"Exactly what I was thinking," Sirius confirmed. "Harry probably won't be able to do much with it just yet, but when he turns seventeen, he'll have full control over the Potter assets."
"Clever," Remus muttered. "And even if Harry doesn't have much say in how the magazine is run, I'm sure a 'suggestion' or two from him would still be followed if only because he's the Boy-Who-Lived."
"He's normally pretty shy and hesitant regarding his fame, but I think he'd be fine if it's used to do some good in the world," I mused, and the other two nodded in agreement. "Well, I guess we're writing to Harry about that, then."
Another idea struck me. "And I think I'll start investing in the Quibbleras well," I said aloud. "I could probably get ten, maybe twenty percent since there aren't really any other investors queuing up. And I know the Lovegoods. They trust me."
'And then, between Sirius, Harry, and myself, we'd control a significant chunk of Wizarding Britain's media!' I thought to myself, seeing this as an absolutely good thing.
"Not a bad idea," Sirius agreed, and Remus nodded slowly. They could also see the benefits of this as well as I could.
I'd have to send an owl to Xeno and Pandora as soon as possible in order to get on top of this. I really think things were starting to go well for us!
111 &&& 111
Harry POV
'Things are not looking good,' Harry thought to himself as he sat in the Gryffindor common room.
When he'd returned to Hogwarts from Winter break, everyone had been on edge. Nearly Headless Nick's and Collin Creevy's petrification was on everyone's mind, and Mr. Filch had been a lot worse leading up to the Winter hols due to Miss Norris' current state as well.
Yet when he had gone to Madam Pomfry and handed over five vials of Mandrake Draught – three for Collin, Nick, and Miss Norris, two for emergencies – people had noticed.
A lot of students who'd been saying that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin had changed their tune after that. Even Filch had been effusive in his thanks, and Collin had ended up following Harry around like a baby duck. Or a leech, as Fred and George had joking called it at one point.
Some, unfortunately, doubled-down, thinking that Harry had been the one to petrify the two and use the Mandrake Draught as some sort of way to get clout by acting like a savior. But those people had been arseholes already and nobody really listened to them anymore, either.
Of course, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Susan, and Hannah had been aghast when he'd told them Edward's suggestion about what had caused the petrification in the first place. None had wanted to believe him. But he managed to wear them down and win them over. Hermione had been the first to cave. And with that, the other four found themselves unable to deny the logic behind it.
'Not that the teachers listened to my warnings,' Harry thought bitterly. McGonagall had tutted and shooed him off, Flitwick had been intrigued by the idea but ultimately dismissive, and Lockheart had just laughed and gone off on a tangent about the time he'd fought a basilisk himself and saved a village in Uruguay from its predation.
Needless to say, Harry was not happy that none of the professors were listening to him. Again. Sadly, the petrification had caused the victims to loose their memories. They didn't remember anything from an hour before they were petrified. Not even Nick! Which was very odd seeing as he was ghost and thus didn't have a brain, but magic was weird.
The next oddity had been during Valentine's Day. He'd gotten a bunch of cards. Delivered by surly dwarves in pink, red, and white uniforms, but cards all the same.
The only people he knew personally whose cards he'd gotten were Hannah, Susan, Ginny and Luna. The former and latter had done so out of friendship. Susan and Ginny had both been… mushy in their words. It made Harry blush and feel tingly in his stomach. He ignored those feelings, however.
Yet there had been one card he'd received. It'd been unsigned, but that wasn't unusual. A lot of the card's he'd gotten from the dwarven cupids hadn't had names on them. But this wasn't a love letter. Instead, it was a warning. Or maybe a threat?
'Stay away!' Somebody had scrawled in blood. 'They're all dead, and you're next!'
The next morning, it was announced that all of Hagrid's roosters had been killed, immediately making Harry and his friends extremely suspicious.
'The only real weakness of the Basilisk was the crowing of a rooster,' he mused. It drove home his theory about Slytherin's Monster being the infamous King of Serpents. Whoever had summoned it was killing off the only things that could reasonably stop it.
So, here he was, sitting and thinking about who could have sent him that ominous letter while also listening to Ron and Hermione argue about how to sneak into the Slytherin common room to snoop around for answers.
And yes, they weren't arguing about ifthey should do it, but how. It was honestly kinda funny.
"Polyjuice potion is undetectable and would let us mingle with the Slytherins far more easily if we're wearing one of their faces," Hermione said.
"Two words: Invisibility Cloak," Ron retorted, and Harry smirked as he cut off Hermione's argument at the knees. "It would be a lot easier to sneak in that way. Besides, you just want to try and brew a higher-level potion like Polyjuice because you think it'd be 'educational.'"
"Well, so what!" Hermione huffed. "Pretending to be a Slytherin would make it easier to ask questions and blend in!"
"We'd still need to find out what their password is before we could even enter, regardless," Neville pointed out. He sat next to Harry, listening to the other two argue.
"It's probably something dumb, like 'Pureblood,'" Ron scoffed. Harry nodded.
"You're probably right about that," he agreed. "The Slytherins don't seem to be very cunning for a house that supposedly endorses that virtue."
"Plus, Polyjuice won't let us know how to act like the person we're impersonating," Neville added. "We'd be caught out instantly if we start doing things out of character from them."
"Why don't we just ask somebody, then?" Harry suggested.
"I don't they any Slytherins would just tell us what the password is," Hermione frowned.
"No, I meant, why don't we ask a Slytherin if they know anything?" Harry said. Seeing his friend's faces scrunch up at that, he continued, "Not all of them are like Draco. I think one or two would be might be willing to help us."
"I don't know about that," Ron replied, unsure.
"Why don't we try that first before we start plotting ways to sneak into the dungeons," Harry offered. "And if it doesn't work, we can just follow some Slytherins into their common room while using the cloak."
"Alright, fine," Hermione sighed, while Ron grinned as his infiltration idea was selected.
"Who should we ask first?" Neville wondered.
"Daphne Greengrass," Harry said after thinking it over. Neville frowned, but nodded.
"Ah, I see. She isn't part of Malfoy's clique at all. Makes sense she'd be the Slytherin most likely to hear us out."
Mind made up, the four of them decided to track her down tomorrow. Which they did, finding her alone with two other people in the library.
"Daphne, can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry asked. Quietly, of course. This was the library, after all, and Madam Pince had ears like a bat!
"Why?" Tracy Davis, Daphne's friend? Hanger-on? demanded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the quartet as they walked over. The other person was a younger girl who looked almost identical to Daphne. Her sister, Harry guessed.
"We wanted to ask some questions," Harry explained. "Nothing bad. We're not here to start any fight."
"If it makes you leave us in peace quicker, fine," Daphne sighed, standing up. She led Harry into the shelves, away from her friend and sister, although the latter had stood up and followed along.
"Astoria, can you give us some privacy?" Daphne requested when she noticed they had a tagalong. Her sister didn't respond and just continued to stare at Harry.
"You shouldn't be here," Astoria said softly, looking at Harry with unfocused eyes. He frowned at that, but before he could ask her what she meant, she turned and ran off.
"I'm sorry about that," Daphne muttered, a pink tinge on her cheeks. "Astoria is rather shy, and rather protective of me. Even though I often think it should be the other way around."
"Right," Harry said, nodding like he understood what she was talking about.
"What did you want to ask me?" Daphne inquired, switching topics.
"Do have any idea about who might be the one behind the petrifications of last year?" Harry asked, and she frowned.
"Why are you looking into this?" she said, answering my question with another question.
"Because I'm curious," Harry replied. "And I'm worried."
"Well, it's not Malfoy," she informed him with a scoff. "No matter how he might crow about hoping for the attacks to continue."
"I figured as much," Harry admitted. "Draco isn't exactly… subtle."
"No he is not," Daphne agreed with a laugh. She then turned serious. "I can't think of any others who might know anything. Most of the upper years aren't very powerful or influential. If they were the heir, they'd be trying to make alliances or bargains with the other students to solidify their positions. And so far, I've noticed nothing out of the ordinary regarding that sort of thing. Just the usual politicking."
"Sounds very cutthroat," the Boy-Who-Lived muttered.
"Is that not how it works in Gryffindor?" Daphne asked.
"No, I don't think anyone in my house has the patience for that kind of stuff," Harry snorted, before shrugging. "Alright, thank you for your help. Let me know if you do hear anything. Oh, and keep an ear out for people who are hissing."
"Hissing?" Daphne uttered. "What like you? You think the heir is a Parseltongue as well?"
"They'd have to be, in order to control the Basilisk," Harry replied, causing Daphne to splutter in disbelief.
"WHAT?!" she shrieked, before clamping a hand over her mouth. Madam Pince didn't materialize from the shadows to shush them, so Daphne eventually just glared at Harry.
"What?" she asked, quieter this time.
"I figured out that Slytherin's Monster is likely a Basilisk," Harry explained. "Normally their gaze is instantly lethal, but reflections, like from the puddle of water in the corridor or the lens of Collin's camera, prevented them from dying, petrifying them instead. Plus, the recent death of all the roosters, and I think you can see where I'm coming from."
"That's… no, but…" Daphne uttered in disbelief, before shaking her head. "Your theory is wild."
"Maybe. But I'm pretty sure I'm right. And, I mean, what else would Salazar Slytherin use as a monster to protect the school?"
Daphne hissed something in annoyance, but nodded. "Fine, you may have a point," she admitted. "I will keep an eye and ear out for anything… odd."
"Great! And just so you know, I don't want to be enemies with everyone in Slytherin," Harry said, assuring her. "Just the morons like Draco. I prefer to have a live and let live policy."
"I see," Daphne said slowly. "You know, my father wanted me to get close to you this year."
"He did?" Harry blinked.
"Yes. He was even more insistent of it when we came home for Christmas." She then stuck out a hand. "Fine. We can be acquaintances for now."
"It's a start," Harry chuckled, shaking her hand. The two then made their way back to their friends.
The rest of the day was normal, and the rest of the week also proceeded without incident. But there was a nagging feeling Harry just couldn't shake at all. So, when he was woken up unceremonious on the first of March, his gut was telling him something was very wrong.
"Wake up! Harry! Wake up!"
"Huh? Whuh?" Harry exclaimed, sitting up in bed in a daze. He fished for his glasses, and when he found and put them on, he saw Hermione, along with the other Gryffindor girls, shaking Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ron awake.
"What's going on?" Ron demanded with a groan.
"Somebody else was petrified!" Hermione said nervously.
"What? Who?" Neville asked, now much more awake.
Hermione bit her lip. "Ron… it was Percy."
"WHAT?!" Ron exclaimed, shooting up in bed in disbelief.
"Him and Penelope Clearwater," Lavender added. "They were on patrol with the other prefects last night, and were both together when it happened."
"Are they alright?" Harry asked worriedly.
"Yes, they are fine. They were found this morning by Filch, and Madam Pomfry is going to be administering the Mandrake Draught very soon," Sally-Anne assured them. Harry and Ron both sagged in relief.
'Thank God and Merlin Edward had me bring those extra vials,' Harry thought, glad for the foresight. Not to mention it was also at the very end of their shelf life. Another day or two, and the potions would have become spoiled and unusable.
"How did it happen? And where?" Seamus asked nervously.
"It was on the second floor, near the Arithmancy classroom," Padma said.
"Wait, was it near those big, really reflective windows?" Harry asked. "The ones that look over the southern lawn?"
"Uh, yes, I think so," the Indian twin said after thinking it over.
"Damn, another point for my theory," he muttered.
"Hmm? What theory?" Sally-Anne asked him.
"Harry thinks that culprit for the attacks was a Basilisk," Ron said, immediately causing a minor bit of panic.
When Harry and his friends finally managed to calm everyone down and explain their reasoning, the rest of the Gryffindor Second Years were looking nervous.
"It does make sense," Kellah murmured.
"Yeah, Slytherin could speak to snakes. What other kinda monster would he use?" Lavender mused, unknowingly echoing Harry's earlier comment to Daphne.
"How do we stop it?" Dean asked worriedly.
"Well, for now, I think we should all start carrying hand mirrors," Hermione offered. "Since it seems that a Basilisk's deadly gaze only petrifies when seen through reflections. If we check where we're going from now on using mirrors, we'll be safe."
"There's also a spell that conjures a mirror, and another that makes surfaces turn reflective," she added. "We need to look into those more. And spread the word to the rest of the students about how to avoid a Basilisk's stare."
"But what happens if it does petrify us?" Padma asked nervously. "Won't it just eat us?"
"It didn't eat any of the other people so far," Harry pointed out. "So maybe it can't eat prey that's been petrified."
"Please don't call them 'prey,'" Neville groaned, looking nauseous.
"Well, let's go alert the rest of the Gryffindors, first," Harry said. "We can warn the other Houses at breakfast."
The Second Years all nodded, and they split up, making their way to the other dorms to wake up and alert the rest of the house.
It wasn't long before the common room was filled to bursting with chattering Gryffindors, wondering why they'd been dragged out of bed.
"Oi! Listen up!" Harry shouted, getting everyone's attention. "Two more people got petrified last night! Some may already have heard this, but Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater both were attacked!"
This caused a second wave of murmuring. This time, Harry had the Weasley Twins quiet everyone down with some homemade fireworks.
"Do not worry! They're now fine! Madam Pomfry has probably given them the Mandrake Draught by now!" As relieved whispers filled the air, Harry quickly dashed their spirits. "But just because they're fine now, doesn't mean this won't happen again! So we need to go over protective measures!"
"How can we protect ourselves if we don't even know what's causing this?!" somebody demanded.
"Because we do know what's happening!" Harry stated. "It's a Basilisk!"
And once more, he had to lay out why he thought this was the case, and how to fend off it's deadly vision. The Gryffindors shared concerned and skeptical looks with each other. Was Harry right? Was it possible?
"If it really is a Basilisk, how do we know you're not the one controlling it?!" Cormac McLaggen, someone who'd been very vocal about his dislike of Harry from the moment it'd been revealed he was a Parselmouth, demanded.
"I have no idea how to prove a negative," Harry shot back. "If you think I'm the one controlling the Basilisk, go ahead and do so. But I'm trying to keep everyone safe! And when breakfast starts, I'm telling the rest of the school this exact same thing!"
Cormac scoffed and looked away, but most of the room seemed to be on Harry's side on this.
When the Gryffindors descended from their dorm to get to breakfast, it was as a sea of red and gold, everyone traveling together to the Great Hall. Safety in numbers and all that.
Naturally, this raised a lot of eyebrows from the students from the other houses who were already there. Once everyone had finished trickling in and after the food appeared on the tables, Harry had Fred and George draw everyone's attention with some more fireworks.
Before McGonagall could bluster her way over and scold the twins for their antics, Harry jumped up onto the table itself, which had his elderly Head of House choking in disbelief.
"LISTEN UP!" Harry shouted, voice amplified by a Sonorous, courtesy of a 6th year. "Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater were petrified last night!"
Shock and disbelief rippled through the seated students, while the teachers looked none too pleased by him revealing this. But perhaps the most stunned were the Slytherins. The heir had said his enemies would suffer, but if it was true, why had a pureblood and a half-blood been the next victims? Draco was arguing that it was because they were blood traitors, but nobody was really listening to him, too focused on Harry.
"But don't worry! I know how we can protect ourselves from the Basilisk!"
Once more chaos erupted, and Harry had to scream all of the evidence for its existence, as well as the secrets to escaping death via snake-stare. When he was done, nobody looked happy, for various reasons.
"Mr. Potter, surely you don't think anyone would believe such a ludicrous claim?" Professor Snape asked with a sneer.
"He is right, my boy. A Basilisk in Hogwarts? There is simply no evidence of that being the case," Dumbledore chided. "How could something like that possibly be hidden in Hogwarts for all this time without anyone knowing?"
"Magic, duh," Harry scoffed. "If you can make a bag bigger on the inside, why not be able to do the same to a room? And if there are spells to hide things from view, again, why not apply them to, say, a chamber to make it hidden? A Chamber of Secrets, if you will. Surely something like that would be more than possible for one of the Founders?"
He then folded his arms. "As for keeping the Basilisk itself docile, we learn how to make a Draught of Living Death in Sixth Year potions class. A cauldron or two of the stuff could probably knock out a giant magical snake and keep it asleep until needed, thus removing the burden of feeding and caring for it."
His words echoed through the Great Hall which had turned deathly silent, everyone paying rapt attention to him now. To his glee, most of the teachers were starting to look convinced as well. Not completely, but they were now questioning things on their own.
"It would explain why the roosters were all killed," Hagrid mumbled to himself, although as usual his idea of speaking softly meant it was audible to everyone in the room, especially with how quiet it was.
"Hmm. We shall have to see if the spiders start acting odd once the weather begins to warm up," Professor Kettleburn mused aloud. "Spiders flee in terror at the mere presence of a Basilisk, after all."
"Oh, so that's why Aragog been so upset lately," Hagrid hummed, intrigued. That seemed to cause the teachers to all gain worried looks. Whoever 'Aragog' was, him being afraid was clearly not a good thing.
Harry just nodded smugly, glad to see some people were starting to use their brains and think things over.
"Remember!" he said aloud, drawing attention back to him. "Reflective surfaces beat the Basilisk's stare! Do not, under any circumstances, look at it directly. Carry a mirror with you, and learn spells that might help as well!"
And with his speech delivered, Harry got off the table and sat down, ignoring the looks being sent his way as he dug into his food. Who knew shouting at people worked up such an appetite?
Chapter 55: Chapter 55: Justice At Last
Chapter Text
Chapter 55: Justice at Last
Magic in the Potter-verse was the definition of 'soft magic.' It could not solve all problems, such as creating food from nothing, but there were few things a clever application of spellcraft couldn't find a workaround for.
Take the issue of space. Expansion charms meant there was always enough room. My junkyards were expanded and could hold much more trash that way. And spells to remove the inevitable stink made my newest venture less of a burden. The people who worked in the garbage business certainly agreed.
Now, if you couldn't cast spells, no worry! There was always a workaround. Runes, arithmancy, potions, and alchemy could allow non-magicals to remove a lot of issues faced by even a modern society. Of course, without magic, most of these options weren't really worth it. They were just ordinary scribbles, math, and chemistry otherwise.
Which was why I had been so focused on finding a way to get access to magical energy without having to rely on Squib blood sacrifices.
"Damn it, another failure," I groaned, rubbing my forehead as I stared down at the mess on his workbench.
What I had been working on was an attempt to turn electricity into magical energy. It was, in theory, possible. Nicholas Flamel's journal had contained notes on a ritual that siphoned and dispersed the energy of a volcano, preventing its eruption. The energy was converted into magic and scattered across the landscape. It was invented by Polynesian shamans who used it to stop volcanic islands from erupting.
The secrets for it had nearly been lost with the European colonization efforts of 17th century, and had only survived because it was passed down orally in a family of Hawaiian shamans who had then taught it to a Chinese wizard who'd visited the Hawaiian islands in the late 19th century. Nicholas Flamel had gotten his hands on this ritual in exchange for helping the Chinese wizard's family, who were Muggles, escape the Communist Purges of the mid-20th century.
What I was trying to do was take this ritual and alter it via runes and arithmancy to make it turn a different source of energy – in this case electricity – into magic.
Unfortunately, the ritual apparatus I had made to attempt this was now a ruined mess. Gold, silver, diamonds, and some expensive magical reagents, all gone. Most of the materials could be easily replaced thanks to my recycling business, and the magical ones weren't too tricky to find thanks to my improved relationship with Cyrus Greengrass.
But it was annoying. This was the fifth time this month it had failed, and I was no closer to figuring out what the problem was.
'What went wrong this time?' I wondered, going over my notes as well as the ones in Nicholas' journal. 'Ah, here we go, the problem started with the transfer of energy itself. Gold and silver aren't strong enough to handle the heat that ends up being generated. Goblin silver or Orichalcum might be able to handle the sheer amount of power that is going to be flowing through the converter.'
I ran a hand over my head. Goblin silver was out of the question, as the goblins guarded it fiercely. And trying to melt it down would just ruin the mystical properties. It would have to be custom-made. Something that no goblin would willingly do.
"Orichalcum it is, then," I muttered. The yellow metal was a well-known conductor of magic, used in many different enchanted objects. It could also only be created with magic. I hadn't yet tried to create Orichalcum with alchemy, but I suppose there was no better time than now.
"Knock-knock," a teasing voice called out as somebody entered my workshop, and I looked up, a smile creeping onto my face.
"Hey, Delilah," I greeted my girlfriend. "What's up?"
"Not much, just wanted to swing on by, say hello," she replied.
"Aww, so sweet," I chuckled, shooting her a grin. She walked over and laid her chin atop my head.
"I am," she said. She then looked down at the ruined mess on the table. "Another failure, huh?"
"Yeah, but I'm close to figuring it out! I'm sure of it!" I declared.
"You're going to burn yourself out like this," Delilah fretted, running a hand through my hair. I huffed but let her do it. It felt nice.
"You need a secretary," she eventually said.
"I have one," I told her, and she shook her head.
"You need a magical secretary," she elaborated. "Somebody who knows magic and the magical world. Or maybe a lab assistant? Having somebody to bounce ideas off of and help with your experiments could be helpful as well."
"You might be right," I hummed. An extra pair of hands would be useful.
"Now, how about focusing on another ritual as well? Take your mind off this one?" Delilah inquired. "What about the Muggle-to-Mage one, instead?"
I hummed at that. "That's not a bad idea. We wouldn't be able to use magic directly, but we'd be able to channel a bit more magic through our runes and potions and such."
"And we do need to test it," she pointed out. "See if it actually works."
"That's true," I grunted.
"I think we should do it," Delilah said, and after a moment, I nodded in agreement.
"Alright, then," I said. "We will perform the ritual this summer, on the Solstice."
"Let me know what you need for it," Delilah requested. "I can help with gathering the materials."
"Yeah, good idea, and I'll see if Sam wants to go through the ritual with us. See if it works the same on Muggles and Squibs," I decided.
"Yes, we'll need to conduct some baseline tests," Delilah said, sounding excited at the prospect.
"You seem excited," I noted with a chuckle.
"I mean, yeah? It is magic! Even if I won't be able to cast any spells myself, it'll still be great to have more magical energy for stuff like potions and what-not," she replied.
I couldn't argue with that. The only people who knew about the Flamels' ritual and ultimate goals of spreading magic to all humans were Delilah and Sam. I'd told them about it after the passing of the Flamels last year. They had immediately agreed that it was a worthy goal and were fully onboard the hype-train.
"So, how did it go with the Lovegoods?" Delilah asked, changing the topic. She'd loved Sirius' idea to take control of Magical Britain's media when I'd told her about it, and had urged me to follow through with my purchase of the Quibbler.
"They were surprisingly agreeable to it," I said, still a bit surprised by it. Xenophilius and Pandora had thought my idea to buy part of the Quibblerhad been a joke at first, but when they realized I was serious, had happily sold me 25% ownership of the paper for a mere thousand galleons.
After the purchase, I'd spoken with them about switching a few things up, like adding different kinds of articles and ads that were less 'crazy conspiracies' and more about magical research and discoveries, as well as trying to sell it overseas. The Quibblerwas likely always going to be seen as a sort of fringe tabloid thing, but adding more riddles and puzzles as well as cartoons – magical ones, with moving, animated drawings – would make it more appealing to children. Aiming for the youth market would hopefully bring in more customers.
The biggest change, though, was the addition of a 'Dear Jane' style advice column for the parents of Muggleborn and Half-bloods. How to handle and help with accidental magic, explanations about what the magical world was like, and more along those lines. It would create an outlet for a community that was far too often sidelined and ignored.
"I'll have to purchase a subscription," Delilah mused. "And I think the Finch-Fletchleys might be interested in it as well."
"How have they been, by the way?" I inquired. I hadn't had much time to speak with them recently, and I felt bad about it.
"Josephine and Earl are well. I think you'll be getting an invite to a garden party, soon, once the weather turns warmer," Delilah said. "Likely around Easter, if they do what they did last year again."
"That sounds fun," I smiled.
"Doesn't it?" Delilah grinned. "Of course, if you're going to be invited, you'll need a proper suit."
"I have, like, three," I pointed out.
"Rookie numbers," she scoffed. "Come on, let's go shopping! You need an update to your wardrobe. Hmm, some new cufflinks, belt, and shoes wouldn't go amiss, either."
I bobbed my head, giving in to the inevitable, and let her drag me out of my workshop to go shopping.
"I need clothes that will be able to be modified with Runeweaving," I reminded Delilah as we drove to Harrods.
"Of course. Speaking of which, I want to get some more of that stuff myself," she informed me, which I completely agreed with.
Runes woven into the lining of clothing were a great way to protect yourself. I'd have died if not for the runes in my suit when I'd first met Delilah. And I'd gone on to improve what I could do with them since then.
Plus, the biggest change was that I now had an actual seamstress to handle the Runeweaving instead of doing it myself. She was a young dwarven woman from Germany who had been scouted by Mike. She had been in Britain around Valentine's, apparently one of the ones who'd been hired by Lockhart, and had been eager to actually do a real job, regardless of how it skirted the edge of legality.
Dwarves were master craftsmen, and they always excelled at whatever craft they chose to pursue. Hildegarde, as was her name, rarely had a chance to practice her skills, and was overjoyed to have the opportunity to be paid to do so.
Delilah for her part was delighted to have a fellow woman to talk to about magical stuff, especially one who was closer in age to her than Mrs. Finch-Fletchley or any of the other moms of Hogwarts students. The two of them spent a lot of time together, chatting about this and that.
I hoped that Delilah would be able to convince Hildegarde to introduce us to more of her family and fellow dwarves in the future, but I wasn't going to rush it. Slow and steady was the best way to handle something this sensitive.
Hildegarde wasn't the only non-human I'd hired. Lupin had brought on three more werewolves and two vampires to act as part of Crucible Security. They latter two had already proved their worth by capturing a person trying to sneak in and sabotage the potion vats during the dead of night.
From the 'interrogation' they conducted, the vampires discovered the man had been hired by a certain 'Hugo Farton.' Aside from a truly unfortunately last name, Hugo was a man who worked for Sir Briar, Mr. Hunt's business partner and rival, as well as the other man aside from Delilah's father I had approached for investments.
I now knew who it was that had been trying to target me and Delilah all this time. One of my own investors and partial owner of Cauldron Remedies. I'd expected as much, honestly. He was an old and bitter man who couldn't stand to see a youngster like myself rise any higher than I already had. That I was dating the daughter of his biggest rival didn't help, either.
I'd need to find a way to deal with him. Not much I could do, really. Not yet, at least, unless I was willing to dip into my repertoire of magic. But I balked at the idea of mind controlling him or threatening his life via magical means. Blackmail would do just fine for now. I could gather evidence of his wrong doings with a bit of magical support, and it was a lot less morally questionable than outright brainwashing or assassination.
'And I also need to desperately find a new name to refer to my new workers. 'Non-human' is obviously too negative and derogatory, same with 'Magical Beast,' which is what the witches and wizards call them, regardless of intelligence,' I thought to myself as I pulled into the valet parking lot and tossed my keys to one of the workers there.
We then went inside and headed up to one We probably wouldn't buy the actual suit here, as I had my own tailor now, but looking at what was 'in season' was a good way to get inspired for what I might eventually want.
"Hmm, what do you think about this style?" Delilah mused as she picked up the sleeve of a suit.
"Looks nice," I hummed. "You sure it wouldn't standout too much?"
"No, no, Shawl Lapels are coming into popularity right now," she assured me.
There were always subtle changes to fashion, even for something as straightforward and bland as a suit and tie, and without Delilah's help I'd be utterly lost, swept aside by the waves of fashion.
"Hmm, alright, if you insist," I replied.
A soft beeping grabbed my attention half an hour later into the shopping trip, and I fished my work pager out of a pocket with an annoyed expression on my face that quickly morphed into a confused frowned.
"Is everything alright?" Delilah asked, worried, as I looked at the message I'd received my pager. Since cellphones weren't very good yet, a pager was the next best thing, though it required some creative use to send information through.
"It's Remus. He say it's important," I replied. He'd given the numeric codes for 'Magic,' 'Meeting,' and 'Urgent.'
"Perhaps his date with Miss Bones went well?" Delilah wondered.
"One can only hope," I muttered. I then sent Delilah an apologetic look. "Sorry to cut this short."
"It's fine," she assured me, grabbing my arm. "Come on, let's go see what Mr. Lupin wants."
"I better grab Sirius as well," I mused. "If this is about what I hope it is, then we might just be able to get rid of our little rat problem at long last."
111 &&& 111
Remus POV
Keeping his gaze firmly on the door to the café and not looking at anyone who was watching him. He was back at the Rosewoodagain, for another meeting with Madam Bones. This would be the fourth time he was doing so.
After his first meet up with the woman who ran the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had requested his presence twice more before this to discuss Sirius Black. Namely, questioning him about his time at Hogwarts the first time, and the second time was about his actions during the war.
Madam Bones had known about the Order of the Phoenix, it wasn't exactly a secret that a group of vigilantes had been going around fighting the Death Eaters, but she had been shocked and then furious to learn it had been sponsored by Dumbledore. Which, in hindsight, was rather obviously. Who else but a man with a phoenix would name their less than secret society after the fiery bird?
'I wonder what she wants to discuss today?' Remus wondered. She hadn't said anything about Sirius Black's trial transcripts, nor had he dared asked about them, but he was getting nervous, and so was Sirius. The man wanted proper freedom, and he was starting to get annoyed at having to dye his hair blond all the time.
He perked up when he saw Madam Bones enter the café, and like a proper gentleman he stood up and got her chair for her. He ignored the way several woman who were watching giggled and gushed over his chivalry.
"You smell nice, today," Remus said as he sat down across from her, before wincing a bit at how that might come across. Thankfully, Madam Bones simply nodded her head, accepting the compliment.
"You mentioned that the previous brand of perfume I used was too overwhelming," she said, and Remus blinked, surprised she'd remembered that. It had been an idle comment.
"It suits you," the werewolf said, and the director gave a small smile, which immediately floored him. In fact, he was so stunned he also missed what she was saying.
"…and after raking a few slakers over the coals, I've finally finished my investigations," Madam Bones said, taking a sip of some tea as she finished.
"And? What did Sirius say? Why did he betray James and Lily?" Remus asked, already knowing the answer. Before she told him, Madam Bones cast a Mufflingcharm around their table with a flick of her wand. She then cast a few more spells, one of which Remus recognized as the Lip Blurringcharm, and a pair of obscure anti-eavesdropping charms that he didn't know the name of, but prevented scrying and post-cognition respectively. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix had made use of them a lot back in the war.
"This is not to be spread around," she warned Remus sharply. When he nodded, she reported what she'd discovered. "It seems that Mr. Black never had a trial."
"What?" Remus uttered, and he was able to channel some of his very real anger into his voice.
"There is no paperwork aside from an Auror arrest form, and the transfer documents to Azkaban," Madam Bones told him. "He was illegally sent to Azkaban, and had been there for over a decade without anyone being the wiser."
"Damn it," Remus growled.
"Now that I've told you this, I have something I also wish to know," Madam Bones stated.
"What is it?" Remus inquired, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He'd always had a keener sense of danger than other wizards, something he attributed to his inner wolf. And right now, it had its metaphorical hackles raised from her tone of voice.
"You are in contact with Sirius Black," Madam Bones said. It was a statement of fact, not a question, and Remus gave a brisk bob of his head, even as he tensed up.
"What gave it away?" he asked.
"A few things. You were too eager to help. Too… invested. I thought it was unusual. In truth, though, I was already skeptical of your motives."
"Please forgive me, but Sirius was like a brother to me," Remus said. "When he came to me and revealed the truth, I was skeptical, but at the same time, I wanted to trust him. I reached out to you through Harry because of that."
"I am not pleased that you lied to me," Madam Bones said, tapping a finger against the edge of her teacup. "But I can understand why. A miscarriage of justice has occurred, and would have gone completely unknown had you not approached me with the hopes of helping your friend."
"What now?" Remus asked.
"I'm not going to arrest you. For one, I have no proof that you've been harboring a fugitive, and your tip about how Black escaped was very helpful in tightening up some defenses that had been left untouched for too long," Madam Bones replied after taking a sip of tea.
"That's a relief," Remus sighed softly.
"Sadly, without definitive proof, Sirius Black will have to turn himself in if he wants the charges dropped. But since Minister Fudge plans on introducing a Kiss On Sight order for the Dementors, if he tries to surrender to the aurors he will likely be Kissed before he can reach a holding cell."
"He's releasing those monsters to hunt Sirius down?" Remus asked, aghast.
"Yes. My advice and warnings have all been ignored, and the Dementors will be allowed to venture onto the mainland in a few days, once he presents it to the Wizengamot for approval," the Director of Magical Law Enforcement revealed.
"Damn it," Remus grunted, before a thought hit him. "What if we did have proof, though? What if we could find a way to get Sirius Black his day in court and have Minister Fudge rescind that idiotic order?"
"That would be the best outcome," Madam Bones said. "But how?"
"Peter Pettigrew is alive," Remus revealed. "He has been hiding in his animagus form for all these years. A common, ordinary rat."
"You're absolutely certain?" she demanded, leaning in, an intensity in her eyes that Remus couldn't help but find surprisingly alluring.
He swallowed down his libido and nodded. "The nose knows," he said with a wink, tapping the side of his sniffer. "He's in a cage, drugged with Draught of Living Death."
"If you can bring him to me, I can get him a trial," Madam Bones said.
"Can you get the media involved as well? I don't want this getting swept under the rug."
"I know one or two journalists who owe me favors," she replied. "If you bring Peter Pettigrew to me by tomorrow, I can have the paperwork for the trial pushed through before Fudge announces his 'brilliant plan' at the next Wizengamot meeting."
"Just be careful," Remus warned. "Dumbledore knew that Sirius was not the Secret Keeper. He was the one who cast the Fidelius over the house."
That caused Madam Bones' eyes to widen. The reveal of this was already primed to send shockwaves through Wizarding Britain, but having Dumbledore implicated in a whole host of very series crimes, including but not limited to willingly allowing a member of a Noble House to be unjustly incarcerated was going to shatter a lot of power and trust in the Light Faction.
"I will ensure he does not have an inkling of the identity of the man who will be going on trial in the upcoming days," she vowed.
"In that case, I will bring you Pettigrew as soon as possible. Where do you want me to deliver it, Madam Bones?"
"Bring it by the Ossuary in the evening, after work," she replied. "I will be there, waiting for the delivery. And after four 'dates,' I think you can call me 'Amelia.'"
Remus agreed, although he knew that people would no doubt come up with all sorts of wrong ideas about why he'd be visiting the Bones family manor at that time of day.
'Sirius is going to relentlessly make jokes about this, isn't he?' the werewolf thought to himself. 'He must never find out!'
Of course, that was likely going to be impossible in the long run, but damn it if he wasn't going to try!
That evening, as promised, Remus drove up to the large, and rather imposing, Bones mansion. It had been built in the Gothic style and resembled a cathedral more than a home, and was morbidly decorated with the bones of both people and animals. Genuine ones, too, if the rumors were true. And they probably were, as the House of Bones had been rather infamous for being necromancers back in the oldest days. Incredible healers and the founders of St. Mungos Hospital, but necromancers all the same.
As he admired the structure, Remus was reminded of the fact that most Pureblood manors, or at least for the nobility, were Unplottable. That particular charm made it impossible to find a place without being invited. It also prevented the location from being recorded on a map or written down. It was not as powerful as a Fidelius, but it was certainly as close as one could get. Add in some Muggle Repelling and general privacy wards, and you could spend days looking but never finding the place, even if you knew generally where it was.
Since he had not spent a few hours aimlessly wandering or driving in circles, Amelia Bones' invitation to the Ossuary had worked to allow him through the wards, and he got out of the car, making sure to grab a cage covered with a black cloth with him.
'This is it, Remus,' he thought to himself. 'Don't be nervous. This is just the last chance Sirius has to be exonerated. And Amelia won't betray us. She gave her word.'
He was glad Sirius and Edward had agreed that the risk of taking Peter to the meeting was worth it if it meant getting her on their side.
He approached the front door and knocked on it, which opened a moment later, a House Elf greeting him in the entrance.
"Mistress Bonesie is waiting for youse in the Study. Leapy will take youse to her," the rag-wearing servant said, bowing before escorting the werewolf through the halls.
The interior was just as grand and imposing as the exterior, though slightly cozier and inviting as there was no macabre décor on display. Something he was relieved to notice.
Remus was ushered into a finely furnished room. The Study, as the House Elf had called it, was a larger, circular room built into one of the towers he had seen outside. There was no fireplace, and thus no chance of it being used as a Floo entrance, but there were a lot of books, entire walls covered in them. A few stuffed armchairs sat facing each other in a circle with a coffee table in the middle.
The woman he had come to meet with was sitting in one of them, and impatiently waved Remus over.
"Coffee, please, Leapy. Remus, how do you like yours?" she asked.
"Black, two spoons of sugar," he replied, and she nodded. The House Elf snapped his fingers and a cezve, like the kind used to make Turkish coffee, appeared alongside two empty mugs, a pitcher of mug, and a pot full of white sugar.
She mixed herself a drink that was half milk and no sugar, and waited until Remus had served himself before looking at the covered cage.
"Is that him?" she inquired curiously, and the werewolf nodded. Feeling a bit theatric, Remus placed the cage down onto the coffee table then whipped the cloth off, giving a tiny bow as he did so.
Amelia Bones snorted at his antics but said nothing about them, instead peering closely at the plain brown rat in the enchanted cage.
"A missing front toe, just like the only piece of Pettigrew that was found after the explosion," she muttered suspiciously. She adjusted her monocle. "And there is definitely an aura of Transfiguration magic about the rat, though given the way the cage is enchanted, I cannot be entirely sure that they aren't the same."
"You may take Peter out of the cage to inspect him, as he is currently asleep and will stay that way without the antidote, though I request that you leave him inside of it if you are going to turn him back into a human," Remus said.
She nodded and raised her wand, first levitating the cage over onto the floor, then shooting the tiny little critter with a spell to force an animagus back into their original form. Her expression tightened as a plump little man in dull brown clothes with mousy features appeared where the rat had been, the cage expanding to accommodate him.
"Well, now," Amelia uttered, voice dripping with contempt at the sight. "Isn't that interesting?"
"My thoughts exactly," Remus agreed.
She waved her wand once more, surprising Remus as Peter shrunk back into a rat. That hadn't been a Transfiguration spell! He looked at her, and the Ministry official smirked.
"There are spells that can force a person into their animagus form," she stated. "Sometimes it's easier to transport a beast than a man."
"I never knew that," Remus admitted.
"I'm not surprised, it is a rather obscure bit of magic," Amelia claimed, though she looked pleased to have been able to show off to her guest. "It only works on somebody who has already unlocked their animagus form, and can be broken out of if the animagus in question simply turns back a second time, but it can disorient and confuse them for a moment or two, so it has its uses."
"Then, with this rat as proof, does this mean…?" Remus asked leadingly.
"Yes, Peter Pettigrew will have his day in court, and Sirius Black will be cleared of all charges," the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement declared grandly.
Remus grinned. "Thank you so much for your help, Madam… I mean, Amelia," he replied, truly grateful for her help.
"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, out of the blue, and he blinked but shook his head.
"Wonderful, you can join me," the head of House Bones said. "Do you like duck?"
Remus nodded his head slowly. A candle lit private dinner with a strong and beautiful woman? 'Sirius must never find out!' he thought, even as he stood up and followed her into the dining room.
Peter's trial could wait. This was more important!
111 &&& 111
Cyrus Greengrass POV
A number of things had crossed through Cyrus' head when his best and most curious customer, Erroneous Hunch Jr. – or as he preferred to be called, Edward Rose – had suggested he not miss the next Wizengamot meeting. Oh, and would he also inform a few reporters in the Daily Prophet to be there as well? Preferably ones who would publish what he wanted them to.
It was an odd request. What was so important about a routine session? Nothing on the docket seemed out of the ordinary. There was an announcement from the minister at the end of it, something his informants claimed had to do with Sirius Black. Was that it? Cyrus knew Edward Rose was connected to Harry Potter in some way. Yet that didn't seem quite right.
Perhaps it was because of Madam Bones? She had squeezed something in at the last minute a few days ago, putting it at the very beginning, while everyone was fresh and bright-eyed, and not barely awake after hours of political discussions. But whatever it was, she was keeping it close to her chest. Strange, but it was her right as a Department Head.
As Cyrus sat down into his seat within the Wizengamot chambers, he cast a surreptitious glance around the room. Lucius Malfoy looked as smug as ever, surrounded by his sycophants. He was trying to push a tax reform that would target the import and export of certain potion ingredients. That was a direct attack on the Greengrass businesses, and Cyrus had been expecting it. Not that it made it any easier to swallow. If it passed, then it would badly impact his finances. And while it likely wouldn't pass, as Dumbledore's faction would oppose it, the margin of error was far too narrow for his liking.
'And speaking of the man, what is he up to?' Cyrus wondered, looking at Dumbledore next. The man was in his robes as Chief of the Wizengamot, sitting in the box that was next to and slightly lower than the stand where the Minister of Magic would be.
Him and his Light Faction weren't pushing back hard enough against Malfoy and the Dark Faction's isolationist policies, and often even sided with them on some of the more minor stuff. It was frustrating, but Cyrus knew he could do nothing about it. Not unless he threw his lot in with the man, and he would only do that as a last resort.
'Though Dumbledore may try and force my hand depending on how Malfoy's proposal goes,' Cyrus thought bitterly, before glancing at different section of the chamber.
There, a few reporters sat in the public stands. The only ones who were there, honestly. While the Wizengamot was technically a 'public affair,' the fact was anybody without a seat on it was strongly discouraged from attending.
'Still, there's more of them than usual,' he mused. A couple of them were from the Daily Prophet, obviously, but to his surprise the Quibblerand Witch Weeklyhad sent people as well, which was odd. Neither paper really focused on politics. Well, outside of conspiracies and gossip, at least.
Eventually, everyone had entered and taken their seats, and a dreadful pink toad of a woman stepped up to a stand and made an obnoxious "Hem, hem!" to get everyone's attention before calling the session to order.
There were few things that spoke to the endless corruption and bureaucratic mess that was the current Ministry than that dreadful woman's title. What even was a 'Senior Undersecretary?' What did they even do?
As far as Cyrus could tell, it was a pointless position, sadly one of many filled by the Minister's stooges and sycophants, and should have had little to no actual power, but somehow it allowed the pink toad to submit legislation proposals as if the Minister himself had rubberstamped them, as well as let her decide what paperwork crossed the Minister's desk and who was allowed to make appointments with him.
A regular secretary could fill that role perfectly fine and would have far less authority or make fewer messes. But no, there just had to be a 'senior' position for a job that likely shouldn't exist. 'Senior Undersecretary!' What a joke!
In the end, Dolores Umbridge stepped back and let Cornelius Fudge step up to the stand. "First item for today's Wizengamot Session, taking place on Wednesday, March 31st, 1993… Director Bones and… this can't be right…"
Minister Fudge squinted in disbelief at the paper in front of him before nervously clearing his throat. "Erm, Director Bones and the trial of Peter Pettigrew?"
The chamber fell deathly silent, only for whispers to immediately break out. Cyrus raised an eyebrow.
'Alright, didn't expect that,' he thought to himself as the formidable Madam Bones strode forward to the front of the chamber, a cage covered with a black cloth in her hands.
She waved her wand, summoning the Throne of Judgement, a rather pompous name for a wooden chair that had enchanted chains attached to it that would bind whomever sat in it and prevented any form of escape. Apparition, Port Keys, even self-transfiguration and the like was prevented. It also negated any compulsions, illusions, or enchantments that had been placed on the person in question. Rumor had it the chair could even seal away a person's magic and dampen Occlumency shields while negating the Imperius Curse, though Cyrus was unsure of the validity of those claims.
Without pausing, Amelia Bones removed the cloth, revealing a rat in a cage. She then placed the cage on the ground, and cast a spell.
"Bestia homini!" she uttered, casting the Animagus Reversal spell, and before everyone's stunned eyes the rat turned into a dumpy little man who was fast asleep, the cage expanding to accommodate his bulk.
Then, Madam Bones unlocked the cage and floated the person out, letting the Throne of Judgement bind him head to toe. She finally took out two bottles and poured the contents of one of them into the prisoner's mouth, causing them to jerk awake and look around in dawning horror.
The expression was mimicked on many a person's face, along with disbelief and fascination, the latter being worn by the reporters who looked like Christmas had come early for them. Curiously, at least to the head of House Greengrass, was that Albus Dumbledore's face had gone pale for a moment before he schooled his expression.
"Peter Pettigrew, you stand accused of betraying the Potters to You-Know-Who on October 31st, 1881," Amelia Bones announced, causing the murmurs to grow even louder. "How do you plead?"
"I-innocent!" he squeaked. "I'm innocent!"
"So noted," she drawled. "Now, let us begin the trial. We shall immediately administer Veritaserum…"
"Objection!" toad bi- that is to say, Dolores Umbridge, shouted out, face puffed up in indignation. "Administering Truth Potion to a recipient of any class of an Order of Merlin must be voted on by the Wizengamot!"
"And said award was given out posthumously. But seeing as the man in question is currently alive and well, then that makes the Order of Merlin null and void," Director Bones drawled out, given a condescending look at the toad woman. She then turned away and poured the contents of the second vial down the man's throat, the chains opening Pettigrew's mouth and forcing him to swallow.
"First question: What is your name?" Bones demanded.
"P-Peter Pettigrew," the bound man gurgled out.
"Was Sirius Black the Potter's Secret Keeper, and if not, who was it?" she asked, and the Wizengamot erupted in a roar when Pettigrew replied, "No. I was."
The questioning continued for an hour, revealing a lot of skeletons and dirty laundry for quite a few people in the Wizengamot. Director Bones had to call in the Aurors to silence all the shouting that was going on, as well as arrest two members of the Dark Faction who'd tried to stop the rat animagus from spilling incriminating secrets regarding who he'd known were marked Death Eaters and not 'innocent souls who'd been wrongfully accused due to the Imperius Curse.'
Perhaps most damning, though, was the revelation that Albus Dumbledore, champion of the Light, had known that Sirius Black was not the Potter's Secret Keeper and had been the one to cast the Fidelius on Peter Pettigrew, meaning he knew the entire time that Black was innocent, and had said nothing when a scion of a Noble House was sent to Azkaban without a trial!
'Well, this is certainly going to shake things up,' Cyrus noted, barely able to hold back a grin as he watched both the Light and Dark Factions crumble before his very eyes.
The Light was doomed because Dumbledore had knowingly decided to ignore very important rules and protocols regarding nobility, and anyone associated with him was tainted by proximity. And the Dark was going to sink because Sirius Black was innocent, and that meant the Malfoy's, who had been controlling the Black fortune via proxy due to all members save Narcissa Malfoy nee Black being dead, jailed or disowned, just lost all financial authority.
'And without the absurd wealth of House Black, Lucius Malfoy won't be able to continue bribing as many Ministry officials or Wizengamot members as he used to,' Cyrus mused to himself gleefully. House Greengrass was currently the richest Pureblood House in Magical Britain, but House Black was currently the second wealthiest, even without anyone managing their finances and House Malfoy 'borrowing' large amounts of money.
To top it all off, Minister Fudge had no choice but to publicly announce to the entire chamber that Sirius Black was no longer a wanted man, and in the face of all the evidence, had to exonerate him completely, which admittedly skipped a few legal procedures but was within the Minister's power, as one of his offices' abilities was to issue pardons, something he'd done for the 'Totally Not Death Eaters' many years ago. Not even the reveal that Sirius Black had been an illegal animagus changed any of that.
And seeing the furious expressions on both Malfoy and Dumbledore as all their schemes and plots started to crash down around their ears was like Ambrosia from the gods to Cyrus's soul.
Thanks to the sheer chaos Madam Bones had just unleashed, the Wizengamot had to be ended early, meaning Malfoy's ridiculous tax proposal never saw the floor, and if Cyrus had anything to say about it, never would.
'Edward Rose… who are you?' Cyrus wondered to himself as he left the Ministry of Magic. What had just happened spoke of connections that went beyond merely knowing Harry Potter and leveraging that to his benefit!
He also made a mental note to send a few letters to the reporters he had suggested attend today as well as the other shareholders in the Daily Prophetthat were like-minded individuals. It was important to capitalize on this paradigm shift, and make sure the proper facts were reported, and most importantly that Malfoy didn't have a chance to twist the facts.
'I think it's time I spoke to Edward Rose again. His offer of an alliance is now looking a lot more enticing,' the noble businessman mused. Yes, somebody like him could be very useful in the future!
Chapter 56: Chapter 56: Moving Forward
Chapter Text
Chapter 56: Moving Forward
"WOOO!" Sirius shouted at the top of his lungs as he waved his shirt and a copy of the latest Daily Prophet in the air while standing on a table. "I'M FREE!"
"Take it off! Take it off!" Hildegarde chanted, the young dwarven woman pounding the table excitedly as she watched. She wasn't alone. Several people were watching the crazy man proclaiming his freedom in the middle of club while standing on a table, many of whom had appreciative looks in their eyes as they took in Black's chiseled body. A few months of food and he no longer resembled a shaggy skeleton.
It was April 1st, a day after the 'Trial of the Century' as the magical papers reported it, and everyone across Magical Britain now knew that Sirius Black was an innocent man and the true culprit was behind bars.
The Light and Dark Factions in the Wizengamot had also completely collapsed as a result of the trial. Dumbledore stepped down from his position as Chief Warlock in order to avoid being ousted by a political rival, and was supposedly being investigated by the Ministry after word regarding the potential existence of a Basilisk being in the school was spread by the students to their parents.
Whether or not he kept his job as Headmaster was up in the air, though I doubted he'd lose that position. Dumbles wouldn't allow it, and he still had favors to cash in and allies to rely on, despite how tainted he had become. Odds were he'd just get a fine or slap on the wrist.
Malfoy and his lackeys suffered a lot as well after the trial. They had 'borrowed' a lot of money from the Blacks through Narcissa, and with Sirius exonerated, he could demand it all be repaid. There were also quite a few people in the Ministry and Wizengamot who'd been arrested after Pettigrew's confessions. Magical Britain was in an uproar, and didn't look like it'd settle down for a while, either.
Of course, scandals weren't the only thing on the menu. Today was also my birthday, and so to celebrate the occasion as well as Sirius' newfound freedom, we all went out to Mark's night club. Sirius wanted to cut loose, and that was the best place to do so.
Our group consisted of myself, Delilah, Hildegarde, Sam, Remus, and of course, Sirius. We were all gathered at a table in a corner of the club in the VIP section. Mark had given it to us when we called and asked for a spot to party in.
"To freedom!" Sam laughed, raising a bottle. Everyone cheered and toasted at that, and we all enjoyed the mood and the drinks.
"What do you plan on doing now that your name is cleared?" Delilah asked Sirius after he finally got down off the table.
"First, I'm going to reinstate my cousin Andromeda and welcome her back as a member of House Black," Sirius declared after he drained a beer in a single go. "Then, I'm going call in all of the 'loans' House Malfoy and his goons were making in the Black family name. Lucy won't end up bankrupt, but it will hurt him. Lastly, I'm kicking out Bellatrix. Crazy bitch has only gotten worse since getting locked up."
"You should see if you can get the goblins to scour the old Lestrange vault for any nifty valuables before you do that," I spoke up, thinking about Helga Hufflepuff's goblet and the shard of Voldy's soul inside of it. "Since Bellatrix was married to them, I bet you could get quite a bit of money out of it."
"Hmm, reclaiming the dowry might be possible," Sirius mused thoughtfully. "And since the Lestranges don't have any living relatives to contest that, I could just let the goblins plunder the vault for any goblin artifacts that might have been squirreled away. That would make them much more amenable to my plan."
I nodded, pleased by the idea. If the goblins discovered a Horcrux in the Lestrange vault, I was certain they would take care of it. As inhuman as the goblins were, they had a loathing towards necromancy that would ensure them destroying the artifact and denying Voldemort another sliver of his soul.
'I'll have to double-check with the goblins to make sure of it, but hopefully that's one problem taken care of,' I thought to myself.
"What about your house?" Remus asked. "Not that I'm kicking you out of mine, but my place isn't exactly built for two bachelors in mind."
"Ugh, don't remind me about that!" Sirius groaned, slumping a bit. "I haven't been in there in years, and I don't relish finding out what, exactly, has been festering within it since my childhood."
"Probably could get some people to look it over. Cursebreakers and what-not would have a field day in there," I pointed out, again trying to subtly lead Sirius to finding Slytherin's pendant.
"Hmm. Maybe. Still, I do want to clean it out, just to make it not so dreary," the animagus replied.
"I have a second cousin who is an interior designer," Hildegarde spoke up. "She does magical home renovations as well. Currently working in the States but I could put in a good word for you."
"Really? Thanks, that would be great!" Sirius said gratefully, flashing the dwarf a roguish smile that had her blushing.
"Girl's got it bad," Sam whispered to me and Delilah, and we nodded in agreement. Remus just looked amused, probably glad to have some ammunition to tease his friend with to get back at Sirius for the insinuations about him and Amelia Bones getting together.
Which had been a surprise to me. That was a pretty significant change to canon if it actually went anywhere, but I found I didn't mind it. Certainly a better match than Remus and Tonks. The age gap between them had been a bit too much for me, even if magical folk did live longer.
'Admittedly I don't really have a leg to stand on, what with my status as mentally older than I appear,' I thought as I sipped at my drink while glancing over Delilah, feeling like a hypocrite.
"Come on, let's dance!" Delilah said, grabbing my hand and tugging me out of my chair.
"Alright, alright!" I chuckled, letting her drag me out to the dance floor, letting the feelings from earlier wash away in the sheer energy filling the area. Delilah and I weren't the only ones to go down, either.
"Let's get to the fun part!" Sirius called out, and he and Sam dashed out and began to show off their moves. They soon had a crowd of people watching them party, and Remus and Hildegarde ventured out as well after a bit, not wanting to be left out.
It was a wild time. I didn't remember or recognize any of the songs being played, and honestly it all turned into a hazy blur, the lights and pounding music making it all feel like a dream and the passage of time had no meaning.
'This must be what the fairy courts were like,' I thought to myself. After a nice bit of exercise, we wandered back to the table to
"Whoo! What a rush!" Sirius said, panting like a dog as he leaned back in the booth eyes lingering on the scantily clad young women who were still dancing. "I had no idea the Muggles did this sort of thing! If I had, I'd have gone out for this sorta party scene all the time while in Hogwarts!"
"It's certainly different," Remus agreed, looking around and observing some other dancers. He wasn't a fan of the night club scene, I could tell. Neither was I, but it was something to do once in a while just to experience it.
'Also, this was a safer choice than Sirius' original idea for a party venue,' I thought to myself. The horndog had wanted to hit up a strip club. Nobody else did. This was the compromise.
"Dancing burns a lot more calories than I thought it would," Delilah hummed, fanning herself a bit.
"I agree! Which is why I prepared these!" I said, raising a hand and motioning towards one the men at the bar. He nodded, and walked off, only to return a moment later with a trolley laden with dozens of cupcakes.
"Would you look at that," Remus whistled, impressed by the massive pile of cupcakes one of Mark's guys wheeled over.
"Hah! Look at these!" Sirius laughed, noticing that they all had black dogs made of chocolate icing on the top.
"Glad you like 'em," Sam said with a proud grin. "Took me forever to make and decorate them all in time for tonight, but it was worth it!"
"There's enough for us all to get one," I said as they were passed around. "Plus, there's enough left over for everyone else in the club to partake if they want. Generosity and noblesse oblige and all that."
Letting the rest of the people partying at the club grab birthday cupcakes if they wanted them went down well with them, people cheering and toasting us while buying us drinks in thanks.
I giggled a bit, feeling a little tipsy. I hadn't drunk much, just a pair of margaritas, but the atmosphere had been more than enough to give me a buzz.
After a few more hours, our group started to disperse. Remus and Sam went first, leaving as they had their own plans for tomorrow.
"Remember to wrap it before you tap it, Ed," Sam whispered to me with a smirk as he got up to leave, and I blushed before slugging him in the arm.
Sirius and Hildegarde were next, leaving together. The dwarf was supporting Sirius, who'd drunk a bit too much and was now wobbly and unsteady on his feet.
And then, all that was left in the club was myself and Delilah.
"Should I call a cab?" I asked her, and she gave a demure nod.
Back at the apartment, we stared into each other's eyes.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to."
"Happy Birthday, Edward," Delilah whispered in my ear in response, nipping it slightly.
I shivered, face flushing a bit. "Alright, alright, I get what you're telling me," I murmured back. "Let's go to the bedroom."
That night, Delilah and I 'celebrated' my birthday in the privacy of my apartment.
111 &&& 111
The next morning, I woke up with the sun, feeling refreshed. I glanced over at the bed's other occupant. Delilah was still asleep, drooling into a pillow.
I carefully got out of bed, trying my best not to disturb her, though she did shift a bit, mumbling softly to herself when I was no longer beside her.
Throwing on a bathrobe, I tiptoed out of the apartment's bedroom, and went to the fridge, getting out some ingredients. Then, I moved over to the stovetop and greased a frying pan.
"Morning, Delilah," I said a few minutes later, greeting my girlfriend as she staggered out of the bedroom with a yawn, her hair messy.
"Mmm, pancakes for breakfast?" Delilah said as she sat down at the table, watching me work in the kitchenette.
"Chocolate chip with cinnamon," I confirmed. "There's also eggs and bacon that'll join 'em."
"You know how to treat a woman right," Delilah grinned.
"Anything for you," I replied, winking at her. She giggled, then yawned again.
"If you're still tired, you can go sleep some more," I offered. "You don't have class until eleven, after all."
"I suppose I could," she replied, eyeing me closely. "But this seems more enjoyable."
"Ah, I see, watching a man in an apron cook for you is one of your kinks, isn't it, you deviant," I teased, and she burst into laughter.
I served her breakfast a few minutes later, as well as grabbing some for myself. We ate, chatting about this and that, and simply enjoyed each other's company. She then grabbed a shower – I joined her in it – and afterwards, she left, giving me a kiss before heading out of the apartment.
Once she was gone, though, I had nothing else to do. No classes for me today. I did have some homework and assignments to finish before next week, but I had the weekend to work on them.
Left alone, my mind began to wander. I started to think about what I was going to do for the future. And not in the long-term, but in the shorter term.
There were only two more months before Harry returned from Hogwarts, and I had several plans for our group to do for summer break. One of which was traveling to the United States. New Orleans, to be precise, to check on the house the Flamels had left me in their will.
But thinking about those plans always derailed, as my mind kept drifting towards a topic I had no way to resist. The basilisk. Harry knew about it ahead of time, and had rescued the petrified victims early. Things should
Yet I couldn't help but worry about his safety. My mind refused to focus on anything else. Had I messed up by telling Harry all of this? Could the butterfly effect result in him getting injured, or worse, killed? I didn't like it, and found myself pacing about the living room, unable to calm down.
After a few minutes of this, I whispered for Inky, and he appeared at my side, looking concerned.
"Young Master Eddy, are you alright?" he asked nervously.
"I… can I ask you a favor, Inky?" I inquired, and he quickly nodded.
"Please go to Hogwarts, and if possible, can you speak to Fawkes, the headmaster's phoenix?" I requested. "Tell him… I wish to speak with him about a matter of urgency."
Inky tilted his head but nodded before popping away. I slumped onto the couch as I waited, hoping that this task could be carried out. As I did so, thoughts whirled about in my head.
There had been a question on my mind for the longest time regarding Fawkes. Why, exactly, had he bonded with Dumbledore?
Phoenixes were seen as symbols of goodness and the Light, and this wasn't exactly wrong. They were vehemently opposed to creatures and magic that could be described as 'Dark,' but good? Maybe. But not in the way humans might view it.
What a phoenix – or any animal, really – saw as 'good' differed slightly from the mindset of a human or other sapient being. That was why Fawkes could stand to be near Dumbledore, even when the man was willing to raise Harry as a living sacrifice, with no guarantee his mad plan would even work, or that Harry could survive a second killing curse.
Reading Nicholas Flamel's journal after I obtained it, I learned why Fawkes was willing to serve Dumbledore. It was because a phoenix did not see anything wrong with what the headmaster was doing. A single sacrifice to extend the life of the magical world by even a few decades was worth it in the eyes of a being whose only purpose was to serve magic itself.
Yes, a phoenix's concept of morality was very different from my own or another human's. They were creatures of magic, and when magic itself perished, so too would they. And that was creeping ever closer, according to Flamel's writings. Magic was being choked out by the Muggles. More and more they pushed the fantastical aside and as the witches and wizards and other magical races died out as their habitats shrunk, magic itself dwindled.
Voldemort's return and unchecked rule throughout the isles would inevitably lead to Muggles discovering the existence of magic, and a murderous bastard like Snake Face would terrify them. They would react the only way they knew how in order to stop him. Violence.
'The Greater Good.' A phrase that left ashes in my mouth, but I could understand why Dumbledore believed in it. He wanted the magical world to survive through any means necessary, and Fawkes, as a phoenix, wanted the exact same thing. Harry sacrificing himself to bring down Voldemort was something that would halt the Dark Lord in his tracks and buy Magical Britain a generation or two more before the Muggles' technology caught up and was able to see through their magic.
Knowing this, I understood, even if I didn't like, Dumbledore's decisions. But I would find another way to save Harry and the Magical World! I would not let one sacrifice themselves for the other!
As I was brooding on this matter, Inky reappeared, holding something I hadn't expected in his hands. The Sorting Hat, in all its ratty glory, and nestled underneath was a plump red chick that was looking at me with a curious light in his eyes.
"Hello, Fawkes," I said, bowing my head in greeting to the powerful magical creature. "I didn't expect you bring a friend along."
"Well, there's not much else to do in the headmaster's office besides sitting on a shelf," the Sorting Hat spoke up, its voice deeper and rumbling with a hint of an accent I couldn't quite place. "So I decided to tag along."
I accepted that with a nod, then turned to look at the phoenix who currently looked like a larger than average baby chicken.
"You're very cute," I had to admit, and Fawkes huffed a bit.
"He's not exactly fond of being called that," the hat admitted with a chuckle. "True as it may be, a several centuries old being like himself gets tired of it every time he has to go through his burning cycle."
"I see… wait, you can communicate with each other?" I asked in disbelief.
"Of course. He's wearing me, isn't he?" the Sorting Hat replied. That was interesting, and had all sorts of curious implications.
'Does that mean phoenixes are smart enough to communicate in a way the Sorting Hat can understand, or is the hat's own inhuman nature allowing it to bridge the gap?' I wondered.
"So, what is it you wished to discuss?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"I'd first like a promise not to let Dumbledore know I asked to see you," I requested, and Fawkes chirped at that. I could feel the displeasure carried through that single note. The empathic songs of a phoenix were more than able to just calm people, they could convey other emotions.
"Fine, I suppose it is a bit rude to just ask that without giving anything in return," I said, and Fawkes seemed to settle down. "How about this? I will tell you why I wished to speak with you, and in return you can make your own decision whether or not to keep your silence."
"I can agree with that," the Sorting Hat said. "So long as what is discussed does not endanger any students or the school itself."
Fawkes bobbed his head.
"That's fair, and what I want is actually to help protect the students and the school," I said, putting a hand over my chest. "I'll even wear you, Mr. Hat, so you can read my mind and see the truth of my words."
That caused Fawkes and the hat to perk up, intrigued, and after a moment of what I assumed was silent communication between the two, Fawkes bobbed his head again, and I reached out and took the famous enchanted hat of Godric Gryffindor himself.
For a moment I couldn't help but marvel at it, a bit of childish glee at having it in my hand rising up, before I plopped the Sorting Hat down on my head. I made sure to lower my Occlumency barriers as well, letting it see… everything.
"Oh. Oh, my," the Sorting Hat murmured, and I wondered what it was seeing.
"Is everything alright?" I asked.
"So... that is what death is like, then?" the hat whispered softly, and I tensed up.
"Ah. So, you saw that?" I asked.
"Terrifying, but then… blissful peace and tranquility."
I frowned, confused. That wasn't at all what I remembered. I could remember my death with almost perfect clarity thanks to Occlumency, but there was none of that peace stuff the Hat was speaking of. It had been an almost instant transition from one life to another after a brief period of darkness.
'Is there something not even I can remember about my death hidden somewhere within my memories?' I couldn't help but think to myself. 'How, though?'
"Occlumency merely helps the mind and sorts the memories the brain physically holds. It cannot… it cannot grasp the soul," the Sorting Hat replied, its voice subdued and thoughtful as it answered my query. "But I can see what your soul remembers, while your body cannot."
"A-ah," I muttered, surprised. "Can you… can you tell me what you see?"
"No. No, I think… I think theywould not be happy with me if I did so," the Sorting Hat replied, a note of fear in its voice. "The living are not supposed to remember what happens to them while they are dead."
I shivered, as the voice the hat spoke that last sentence with was not its usual deep and masculine voice. Instead, it was… different. I couldn't say 'why' or 'how,' it just was. And so I wisely decided to drop it.
"M-moving on," I said nervously. "Can you see what I know about Harry Potter?"
"I can. I also see how things have… diverged," the hat confirmed, its voice thankfully back to normal. "You care for him."
"I do," I nodded. "That's why I don't want him to get hurt if I can help it."
"A noble desire," the Sorting Hat replied softly. "And you want to save as many people as you can as well, including the Magical World itself from its slow decline. You coach it in matters of practicality, common sense and decency, and other terms to make it seem more beneficial for you than merely because it is the right thing to do, but that does not change the fact you are willing to use your cunning and ambition for the sake of others. Yes, you would definitely have done well in Slytherin had I the honor of sorting you years ago."
I took the Sorting Hat off my head at that, and put it back onto Fawkes, letting the phoenix nestle into the overly large hat. The two then spent a minute communicating mentally in silence, before finally the little phoenix chirped out in amusement, and gave me a curious look.
"Fawkes finds your plan for the future… agreeable," the Sorting Hat declared. "He will aid the young Potter in defending Hogwarts from Slytherin's Monster, and, if you continue to impress him, will consider going a little bit further to ensure your idea for Apotheosis works as you intend it to."
I sagged, relief flooding my veins at that. A lot of worries that I had been carrying on my shoulders suddenly lifted, and I felt light as a feather.
"Thank you," I uttered sincerely, unable to keep a few tears out of my eyes. "And… can you give this to Harry, when it's time?"
I handed over the ring with the shard of Philosopher's Stone in it that Nicholas Flamel had given me, and Fawkes took it in his beak, swallowing it for safe keeping.
"Least I could do," the Sorting Hat replied. "Now, we must be going. Before Dumbledore notices we're gone."
"Of course. Inky, please take them back to Hogwarts," I requested, and my loyal House Elf bobbed his head, vanishing with a pop.
I stared at the spot where they'd previously been, before I leaned back into the couch. My mind felt clearer, and new ideas were already starting to pop up within them.
"I think I should work on my alchemy for a bit," I decided. And maybe I'd figure out a way to convert magic into electricity, and vice-versa.
Well, it was a bit unlikely, but there wasn't a reason to not keep trying.
Chapter 57: Chapter 57: Easter Rising
Chapter Text
Chapter 57: Easter Rising
"I feel like a guinea pig," Sam grumbled as Delilah and I poked and prodded his body. We had been doing this to him for a couple days, now, and we were inching closer to being finished.
"You are, though," I told him. "A cute little piggy wiggy we're gonna test all kinds of stuff on."
"That is so much worse," Sam drawled, giving me a deadpan look.
"Heh, you're welcome," I snickered, Delilah hiding a giggle from behind her hand. She was acting as my nurse today, helping me with the 'experiments.'
"What exactly is all of this for, anyways?" Sam asked, looking down at the assortment of medical tools we'd been using on him. "I thought we were going to try and use that ritual to give me magic powers."
"We need to establish a baseline so we can know if anything does change or go wrong," I replied.
"Right, okay," Sam muttered. "I get that much."
"Not to mention, many types of magic revolve heavily around symbolism, and rituals are tied closely to such things as well," I continued to explain. "Nobody is entirely sure 'why' or 'how' this is the case, but it's a verifiable factor. Things like the phases of the moon and the positions of stars and planets is one thing, they have observable effects on even the mundane world. But more intangible ones, like faith, also has a strong influence on how things work in the magical side of the world."
"And that's why we're aiming to do this ritual on Easter Sunday?" Sam asked.
"Correct. By tying the ritual to grant you access to magic to the day of Jesus' resurrection, we hope to create a sympathetic arcane resonance," I confirmed. Sam blinked at me in bewilderment, not having understood a word of what I'd just said.
"What he means, is that we hope to reduce the risks of you dying to this by making it so the 'resurrection' aspect of Easter Sunday influences the ritual," Delilah said, and my best friend nodded in relief and thanks for her.
"That's what I said," I grumbled as I checked Sam's blood pressure.
We'd already drawn some blood, taken urine samples, and saved some snippets of hair and nail clippings, but there were other things to double-check. Weight, height, diet, and the color of his eyes. Then there was his magical signature – or lack of one – alongside the levels of magical energy within him, influenced by passively absorbing the ambient mana in the air.
Basically, everything and anything that could be observed and quantified was. It was basically an in-depth medical examination, and we knew everything about Sam that modern science and magic could uncover.
That was what we'd been doing for the past few days since my birthday, and Sam had, at first, been into the whole thing. Who wouldn't want to gain magic, even if it wouldn't allow somebody to actually cast spells. All it would do was improve Sam's ability to brew potions, make runes, and perform alchemy. Oh, and see things normally invisible to Muggles. But even that was incredible and a step forward in the right direction.
"Don't worry, Sam," Delilah assured him. "Today's the last day for all of this. After that, it's just preparations for the ritual on Sunday."
"Speaking of Easter Sunday, you two are going to that party at the Finch-Fletchley's, right?" Sam asked.
"We are," I nodded. "Why? Wanna come with us?"
"Well, there's a couple different people I wouldn't mind meeting, but no, I was just curious," Sam replied, rubbing the back of his head.
"Hmm. Well, if you do want to come with us, just say so," Delilah said, humming a bit, and not quite trusting his words. I didn't believe his nonchalant attitude either.
"In that case, I think we're done here," I said, jotting down the numbers I'd taken from the pressure band. "Drink plenty of water and get lots of rest."
"I'll get right on that, doc," Sam said with a roll of his eyes.
"Any plans for this evening?" Delilah asked, and Sam tilted his head to the side.
"Well, maybe," he admitted. "I'm going out for drinks with a few classmates from the cooking school I'm attending."
"That so? Gonna take them out to Mark's night club?" I asked. "You can use my tab."
"Our plans are a bit more sedate than that," Sam chuckled. "Though maybe some other time."
"Alrighty. Have fun, whatever it is you're gonna do," I said, and Sam nodded before leaving my apartment, leaving Delilah behind.
"So… what do you want to do, now that we're alone?" she asked, turning to me with a sultry grin.
"I dunno… what do you want to do, Delilah?" I whispered back.
She licked her lips. "I have a few ideas…"
And that was how we ended up cuddling together on the couch under a blanket, watching a Doctor Who marathon, while chatting about magic. Oh, and we had tea and biscuits, of course. We weren't barbarians!
"…and that's why I think the World Egg model Flamel was teaching us is close, but not quite there," I told her.
"What do you think the reason is, then?" she wondered. "Because the Leylines are clearly connected to magic while also being intrinsically tied to the planet itself."
"I think magic exists on Earth due in part to the molten core," I said, hand across her shoulders as I explained my theory. "Some Leylines are mapped to tectonic fault lines, but others aren't. However, they're all very clearly 'below' the surface connected to the mantle. I bet if we could map the subterranean flow of magma alongside the 'rotation' of the planet's core, we find a correlation between those and the Leylines."
"So you hypothesize magic is tied to geo-thermal events or tectonic movement?"
"Partly. I think, in some way, it's both. Somehow the planet is generating magical energy, we know this empirically. We also know that living beings also produce magical energy. Human magic plus planetary magic equals spells. It's how we power runes, wards, and rituals."
"And what about the other stellar objects?" Delilah pointed out. "Magic is also influenced by the moon and motion of the universe."
"I think it's a two-fold system. Some of it is connected to the aspect of 'faith.' If you believe in it, it will work. A significant part of magic operates off of willpower, after all. But that is due to human interference. The rest can be tied to gravity and, as you put it, the 'motion' of the universe."
"So you're advocating for an Omniversal Energy Model?" Delilah guessed, and I nodded.
"Right! Energy is energy, after all. There's just something about Earth and the life upon it that is causing said energy to take on a new form. In this case, magic."
"Alright, I can see that. What about Dark Matter, though?"
"Ugh! Don't even get me started on Dark Matter!" I groaned. Delilah giggled at my exasperation.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop. How did we even get to this discussion in the first place?" she wondered.
"I think we were arguing about how the Sonic Screwdriver worked," I replied. "And I still stand by my assertion it works via oscillations of energy waveforms, which is basically what magic is! How else would the Doctor be able to do literally anything he wants with it? Besides 'because the plot demands it!'"
"Yes, now I remember," Delilah said with a roll of her eyes.
"Hmph. Well, anyways, what about yourself?" I asked her after taking a calming sip of tea. "What have you been busy with?"
"I came up with an idea for creating electricity with magic," Delilah said, and I leaned over to her, curious.
"Go on," I requested.
"It's simple. The Aquamentispell on a massive scale combined with a hydro-electric generator," Delilah said excitedly, and I nodded to myself as I thought it over.
"Huh… yeah, not bad," I muttered. "Water conjured by magic follows Gamp's Laws, one of which stipulates anything created by magic will eventually fade and cannot be used to sustain life. However, you don't need the water to stay around, you just need the force behind it to turn the turbines that generates electricity."
This had a lot of potential! You sadly couldn't use the base Aguamenticharm to water plants or to get a cool, refreshing drink to slake your thirst, at least not for an extended period of time, but it would be perfect for an eco-friendly hydro-electric generator!
'The only tricky part will be finding a way to produce enough water via magic at once. We'd need an enchanted artifact to do that, since having a witch or wizard just cast the spell constantly would be impossible. Plus a Leyline to power the artifact… but it could very well work!'
"You're a genius, Delilah," I praised, and she preened happily.
"Of course," she smirked. "I am a woman of many talents!"
"That you are," I nodded.
"I also had another idea for you," Delilah claimed. "For a new business, since the magic-powered generator is a bit of a long-term goal."
"Really? Okay, lay it on me," I said.
"So, your 'medicine' business is growing slowly since you have to rely on very specific materials that are quite a bit harder to source than regular chemicals, right? In fact, your garbage disposal business is growing the fastest and shows the most profit since your use of alchemy can convert trash into viable materials," Deliah said.
"Yeah," I nodded, wondering where she was going with this.
"So, what if we break into another industry that is worth billions but is also rarely talked about?" Delilah offered. "I'm talking about transportation, of course. Cargo shipping, to be precise."
"Of course!" I gasped in realization. Magic could turn the transportation industry on its head! Apparition, Portkeys, and Space Expansion charms! Any one of those could make it so much easier to move huge amounts of cargo around!
"I see the gears are turning in your head," she smirked. "Now, I don't know if we'd be able to do all that much, as I'm unsure what it actually takes to create a magically expanded space or a Portkey, but even if we have to hire Mr. Black as a 'consultant' it would be worth it."
"Since you brought this up, do you have anyone who could help us with this business plan?" I asked.
"I do, in fact, know somebody," Delilah nodded. "Isaac Raincroft, a man my parents know. He owns Waverider International Cargo Shipping. Unfortunately, WICS has suffered a bit in recent years. WICS used to own eleven multi-ton cargo transportation vessels. Now they only have three."
"Sabotage? Or just bad financial planning?" I asked.
"Mostly the latter. Mr. Raincroft is not exactly very good at the business side of things. He's pretty much the definition of a trust-fund baby who has no idea what it actually takes to run a company due to never working a day in his life beforehand. Ever since his father died, he's tried his best, but WICS is bordering on bankruptcy," Delilah told me.
"Hmm. You think we could get into the transportation business by buying into Mr. Raincroft's business?"
"Very much so. I bet if I help you, we could convince Mr. Raincroft into selling majority share of WICS to us. He would be so much happier living off the money he'd make selling it off and having somebody else run things for him. He would want to stay on the board, or perhaps as a contractor or consultant, but yeah, he'd jump at the opportunity."
"I do have a bit of a windfall from all those precious metals the 'recycling factory' has been churning out," I mused. "Plus, there's the money the Flamels left me."
"He'll be at the Easter party," Delilah informed me. "If we team up, we can wear him down and win him over."
"I love the way you think," I told her, kissing her head fondly. She grinned at that and snuggled closer into my side.
"Mmm. Glad to help. Now shush, the Doctor is about to mess up some Daleks!" Delilah said, turning her attention back to the tv screen as the Seventh Doctor confronted the killer trashcans. I nodded in agreement and watched the episode with her. It was a good one, worth shutting up over.
111 &&& 111
"What do you think?" I asked as I adjusted my tie a bit. Delilah gave me a slow look before nodding.
"You look nice," Delilah said. I preened a bit. My black, Acromantula silk suit with crimson cravat tie was always a crowd pleaser. The retro style appealed to the older crowd as well as the new.
"Thanks. And you look stunning as always," I praised. She was wearing a sunflower yellow shoulderless dress, with white elbow-length gloves, her silver hair done up in a French braid. And, just for a bit of extra protection, runes courtesy of Hildegarde had been woven into it to create a defensive garb on par with my own.
"Flatterer," she smirked.
"Yup," I confirmed shamelessly, offering her my arm. "Come on, then, let's get going."
The two of us left the limo we'd ridden in to get to the Finch-Fletchley's home, ready for the party. The Finch-Fletchley's Easter cocktail party was apparently a 'Big Deal,' with everyone the wealthy couple considered close friends attending. That this vaunted list of guests included high-ranking members of the government and military was quite exciting, not to mention many powerful businessmen.
"Edward! Delilah! I'm so glad you two could make it!" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said happily as she greeted the two of us, her husband standing beside her. They were meeting and greeting the guests as they entered the ballroom.
"Josephine, Earl, good to see you both again," I said. I shook Mr. Finch-Fletchley's hand in greeting before kissing the back of his wife's hand.
"It has been a while," Earl agreed.
"Has Justin been doing well at school?" I inquired.
"His letters home are quite… interesting," Josephine admitted.
"Sounds like he's mentioned the… snake problem," I said slowly, guessing as to why she didn't sound very enthused.
"Quite," she said with a crisp nod. "I am most displeased such a thing can happen at a school for children. Especially one where my own child attends."
"Well, I'd be happy to discuss any problems and address any concerns you have," I assured her.
"Thank you, I am glad to hear it," she said with a relieved smile, before waving us into the lounge.
We entered and Delilah immediately took over, leading me around the room introducing me to everyone. I met too many people to remember, though I did my best, repeating names as I shook hands and chatted about this and that.
"Delilah!" a happy voice called out to us as we made the rounds.
"Mother," Delilah said, a note of fondness and genuine love entering her voice as she turned to the woman who'd called out to her.
Mrs. Hunt was a woman with short brown hair done up in a bob. Delilah's mother was in her mid-forties, though she looked like she was early thirties, minimum. She wore a flowing, flowery green dress, and was smiling at her daughter.
"It's so good to see you again," she said, the two of them hugging.
"You just saw me yesterday," Delilah giggled.
"That's far too long," Mrs. Hunt declared, before turning to me. "And Mr. Rose. How are you?"
"Doing well, thank you," I replied. "Your daughter has been showing me off to all of her acquaintances."
"Why wouldn't she? A girl needs to show off her strapping boyfriend to impress everyone, and she has to mark her territory, lest other women get ideas," Mrs. Hunt tittered.
"Quite right," Delilah nodded.
"Glad I could be of service," I drawled.
"Have you two met Dr. Cartwright?" Mrs. Hunt inquired, turning to look at the young man who was with her daughter. "He's quite interested in your medicine, Mr. Rose."
"We have not," I replied.
"Then perhaps that should be your next person to speak with," Mrs. Hunt suggested, and Delilah nodded in agreement, so I decided to go along with it.
Delilah and Mrs. Hunt led me over to Dr. Cartwright, who was wearing thick glasses and had a streak of grey near his temples.
"Dr. Cartwright! How are you?" Mrs. Hunt said cheerfully.
"Mrs. Hunt, a pleasure as always," he replied stiffly. "Miss Delilah, you're looking well."
"Thank you," Delilah said with a bob of her head, before tugging my arm. "This is Edward Rose of Cauldron Remedies."
"Is that so?" Cartwright inquired, suddenly looking much more animated.
"Mr. Rose, this is Doctor Cuthbert Cartwright," Mrs. Hunt said, introducing me to the older man. "He's a researcher at a very prestigious institute."
"A pleasure to meet you," I said, offering my hand to shake.
"Indeed," Cartwright nodded. "I must say, your hair growth cream is quite fascinating. I never imagined such mundane materials could do some much, especially when inspired by home remedies."
"Sometimes the old can teach the new a thing or two," I chuckled.
"Quite. I was initially skeptical of the claims surrounding your products. Seemed much more like homeopathy than genuine science," Cartwright admitted. "But seeing the results myself, I can't deny they work. It's almost… magical."
"You know what they say. Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," I chuckled, even though the way he'd said the word 'magical' made the hair on the back of my neck stick up. "Really, though, there were plenty of olden day medicines that worked perfectly fine. Willow bark as an aspirin analog, for instance, does in fact work, though to a lesser effect modern medicine possesses due to a lack of ability to extract the raw material responsible for the anti-inflammatory effects."
"If looked at it through that lens, then yes, that is true," Cartright admitted. "I would be interested in discussing your methodology regarding the way you've turned these 'home remedies' into more effective medicine. No doubt you've found a way to synthesize the effects in some way."
"Glad to oblige," I told him, and we chatted for a bit about science while Delilah and her mother wandered off to speak with other guests.
As we spoke, I was curious about whether Cartwright was a Squib, or perhaps a Muggleborn wizard or the relative of magic, but there was no real way to tell. Not without asking some pointed questions.
"That was interesting," I told Delilah after she came to whisk me away from the conversation with Dr. Cartwright. We'd been chatting for a while, and lost track of time. There were still people Delilah wanted to introduce me to, so I promised the doctor we'd talk later, gave him one of my business cards, and went off with Delilah once more.
"Do you think Dr. Cartwright knows about the magical world?" she asked in a low voice.
"Seems likely," I replied. "Though from what I gathered while speaking with him he's likely not directly involved. He knows somebody who is – or was – aware of it."
"Hmm. Something to look into," she murmured, before tilting her head to side.
"Over there, that's Mr. Raincroft," Delilah whispered in my ear, and intrigued, I took in the owner of the shipping company. He was in his mid-thirties and had a morose look as he stood in a corner of the room watching the rest of the partygoers. He was also on his third martini which told me a few things about his mood and drinking habits.
"So, how should we approach him?" I asked back, voice low.
"Hmm. You'll probably be able to get his attention if you bring up your successful businesses," Delilah said. "Raincroft highly respects self-made men, much like his father, who started Waverider International Cargo Shipping."
"I see," I mused. "Alright, let's do this."
We approached Isaac Raincroft, who looked up from his drink. Recognition flickered through his eyes when he saw Delilah, and he gave her a weak, watery smile.
"Miss Delilah. You look as lovely as ever. You're truly taking after your mother."
"Thank you, Mr. Raincroft," Delilah said. "May I introduce my friend to you?"
"Edward Rose," I said in greeting, offering a hand. "I see you're a man of culture with that choice of drink. Mr. Bond sure knows how to pick 'em."
Raincroft snorted as he shook my hand, though he didn't seem to be disappointed by my banter. "Agreed, James Bond knows how to pick his drinks. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rose. You're here as Miss Delilah's Plus One, I assume?"
"The Finch-Fletchley's invited me over, so Delilah and I decided to come together," I replied.
"Is that so? I'm impressed. Earl and Josephine don't usually let just anyone through their doors, no matter how witty."
"I tutor their son, Justin," I told Mr. Raincroft. "I also have quite a few business deals with the lady of the house. She's quite the fan of my homemade remedies."
"Remedies? Ah, I see! You're the young man who's taken the pharmaceutical world by storm!" Raincroft realized. "Cauldron, was it? Good to know that I don't have to worry about losing my hair when I get older with your products on the market."
"I'm sure that won't be a worry for you for a long while yet, Mr. Raincroft," Delilah assured him. He just chuckled, though there was a self-deprecating note to it.
"Perhaps, though I just know that I'll be going fully grey before I'm fifty," the businessman sighed.
"I know how that feels. It's like I've aged several decades while trying to get my own businesses up and running," I commented sympathetically. "Surprised I don't have any grey hair yet myself."
"I think you'd both look rather distinguished with grey hair," Delilah told us, though I noticed she was staring at my hair closely, as if searching for any hair that had turned silver recently.
Putting that to the side for the moment, I decided to pull out a business card for the man to take.
"Here," I offered.
"You also own Citrine Services?" Raincroft said in surprise when he read the information on the card.
"Yeah, it's a recent acquisition, but it's already gotten quite popular," I said proudly. "Projected profits are quite impressive thanks to several new odor-eliminating chemicals and techniques. Not to mention the recycling process I devised cuts down on the amount of trash going into landfills by over 15%."
"I see… would you perhaps be interested in any other business acquisitions?" Raincroft asked, a glint of intrigue entering his eyes.
"I'm always looking for new projects to sink my teeth into," I replied, flashing a toothy smile.
"Hmm. I believe we might indeed have something to discuss, here," he murmured, almost more to himself than to me. He then looked back up and offered me a card of his own. "I'll be in contact."
"I look forward to it," I replied, taking his info and shaking his hand. Raincroft looked pleased, as well as excited. Delilah's hints had worked out perfectly. I didn't need Legilimancy to know he was going to try to convince me to buy into his shipping company.
"Well done," Delilah murmured after we walked away.
"Thank you," I whispered right back. "Where to next?"
"It should almost be time for dinner," Delilah said.
"Oh yeah, this is a dinner party, isn't it?" I mused. "Almost forgot."
Delilah rolled her eyes at me, but with fondness. I grinned back. This was a good day. A nice way to unwind, and have some relaxation before the busy days of the summer approached.
111 &&& 111
"Are you ready, Sam?" I asked, looking up from my calculations to my best friend.
"Let's do this," he said firmly. His body was covered in runic sigils made from his own blood mixed with expensive magical reagents that should, if Flamel's journal could be trusted, facilitate the biological transmutation ritual. There was no fancy circle to stand in, just the alchemical equation made of runes.
It was Easter Sunday, and it was time for the ritual. Would we succeed in turning Sam into a wizard? Only time would tell, but I couldn't help but feel nervously excited.
Sam was naked, so it was just me and him in a warehouse I'd converted for the exact purpose of the ritual. I had no idea how ambient magical energy would affect the ritual, so there were no wards or magical defenses in the building, just in case they interfered somehow.
Finally, after a few more preparations and some waiting, it was time. At the exact moment it turned noon, Sam picked up a potion bottle I'd left at his feet and drank it. He grimaced but swallowed it all, and after a second, the runes began to glow white, reacting to the power within the potion. Sam winced in pain, but staying immobile.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"My skin kinda tingles," he muttered. "Like… it's a really weird, bone-deep tingling."
"Interesting," I said, noting it on the clipboard. "Anything else?"
"Uh… no, not really," Sam replied. "I think that was it."
A minute later, the runes on his skin flashed before vanishing, and Sam was completely fine. Still naked, but there was nothing odd or out of the ordinary.
"Did it work?" he asked, looking at his hands.
"No idea," I said. "But you know what we have to do now, right?"
"Yeah, I know," he sighed, extending an arm. "Take the samples."
I walked over and jabbed a needle into his arm, extracting a blood sample. Then, I snipped off some hair from his head and swabbed his mouth with a Q-Tip for a saliva sample.
"Get your clothes on, and then we can do the rest of the tests," I offered as I tucked the samples into an armored briefcase.
"Thanks," he murmured, and did just that.
"No changes?" I inquired.
"Still nothing," he assured me. "It's weird. I thought I'd feel different, but nope, none of that."
"Well, no news is good news, right?" I said, and he chuckled.
"Your optimism is awe-inspiring," he drawled.
"Of course it is. I'm awesome, after all," I said, sticking my nose into the air. He rolled his eyes at me, and once dressed, we made our way out of the warehouse.
"How many of these do you have?" Sam asked, looking around the empty interior.
"This is warehouse number five. It's gonna be turned into a base for my new enterprise."
"Considering the location, is it related to boats or the water?" Sam guessed. We were close to some docks along the Thames, so it was a logical guess after all.
"Yeah. I met somebody with a failing shipping business. Delilah has some interesting ideas for it that use magic," I informed him.
"For real?" Sam asked. "Huh, I guess that makes sense. Those bottomless bags and magical trunks are quite useful… yeah, I can see how those could revolutionize the entire industry."
"Right?" I nodded. "I'm considering letting Delilah take the lead on this particular project. It was her idea, after all."
"Joint ownership?" Sam guessed.
"Yup. We'll own equal stakes in the company," I confirmed. "If you want, I'd be happy to let you buy in as well."
"Might take you up on that offer," Sam said. "I never really realized how much the world revolved around money, but now that I'm living on my own… it's wild. And a bit frightening. Owning part of a company that'll have you two at the helm is bound to make a profit. Gotta secure my future, after all."
I grinned, glad that Sam was thinking ahead like that. Money didn't buy happiness, but it sure as hell made sure you could buy the things that would lead to happiness, like food, shelter, and safety.
"Any news of your own?" I asked, patting him on the back. "School going alright?"
"Yeah, school's fine. But, well… I've been seeing someone, recently."
"You have?" I asked. "I kinda expected that, given how shifty you were being recently. Who are they?"
"She…" Sam began, but trailed off.
"She?" I pressed, curious.
"I don't if what we're doing is actually dating or not, but we do hang out a lot. Her name is Nymphadora Tonks…"
"What?" I uttered, stopping mid step.
"Yeah, she… wait, you know her?" Sam asked, blinking in surprise.
"I do," I said slowly. "She's magical. And an Auror. Remember when I told you I got help Obliviating my kidnappers? That was her."
"I know all that, too," Sam admitted. "It was a bit of a surprise, but we met during trivia night at a bar my class mates tend to frequent, and just… clicked, ya know?"
"What do you two talk about?" I wondered.
"Being different," Sam claimed.
"I see," I murmured. "Your gender dysmorphia?"
"Yeah! She didn't… well, Tonks – that's what she prefers to be called – knows a bit about not feeling right in your own skin. She has this ability where she can transform her body however she pleases, and, well, people always wanted to use her for it. Anytime she dated somebody they'd want to change her. Literally. And because she can look like anyone, she was never allowed to be herself."
"Damn," I muttered. I hadn't thought about it like that, but it made sense. A Metamorphmagi could change their appearance at will, and even alter their gender. Who better to understand Sam's dilemmas than a person who could be anyone they wanted, but at the same time, couldn't be sure they'd be accepted for it?
"Okay, then," I said, throwing an arm around my best friend's shoulder as we approached the car. "I'm happy for you, Sam. If you want, I'll totally be your wingman. We can go on Double Dates."
"Really?" Sam asked, surprised but hopeful. "You don't care?"
"As long as you're happy, I won't ever care," I told him as we piled into the vehicle. "You've been with me practically since Day One. I mean, I'm a bit worried about you dating the magic popo, but if Remus can do it without spilling the beans, so can you."
"Thanks," Sam said, relief and joy on his face. "That means a lot."
"By the way, does Tonks know you're… uh, well, you might not be a 'Muggle' anymore, actually…" I trailed off, unsure of how to phrase that while I started the car.
"I lied and said I was a Squib," Sam admitted.
"Ah. Smart," I hummed thoughtfully. "Easy way to avoid having to admit why you know certain things. But won't that be weird if you introduce her to your family?"
"Nah, don't worry. Apparently it's possible for Squibs to be born in normal households as well, no recent magical blood required," Sam said. "It's pretty rare but it can happen due to living in close proximity to magical contamination, like old and powerful wards."
"Didn't know that," I said. "Who taught you that, anyways?"
"Sirius did," Sam informed me. "He helped me come up with a cover story."
"Wait, he knows?" I exclaimed.
"I mean, yeah, Tonks is his niece. He found out pretty quickly, especially after he reinstated his cousin as a Black."
That made sense, and a little bit later I dropped Sam back at his dorm. "You need to introduce us," I told him. "Don't wait too long, either, or else Delilah might get upset."
"Don't want that," Sam said with a mock shudder. We laughed, and then I drove off to do some office work. And then it would be time to finish up my homework for the week once that was over. Busy, busy bee, that was me.
Chapter 58: Chapter 58: Heir of Slytherin and Gryffindor
Chapter Text
Chapter 58: Heir of Slytherin and Gryffindor
Harry POV
"Wooo!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "Finally! It's over!"
"It wasn't that bad," Hermione said with a shake of her head, though she had a smile on her face all the same.
"I'm also glad our finals are over," Susan said, leaning back in her chair with a groan.
"You can say that again," Padma Patil commented, sitting next to her twin sister. Murmurs of assent came from the rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs sitting nearby, while Hermione and the Ravenclaws rolled their eyes at the antics of the less academically inclined.
The friend group's study session had grown explosively in the last few weeks as the end of year tests grew closer. All of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw Second Years had been studying together for the finals that year, with First and Third years popping in every so often. Collin Creevy, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood being the most common students to join the group from the lower years.
Sure, some of the classes were less than impressive, such as history with Binns and Lockhearts Defense lessons. But regardless of how terrible they were, Harry was satisfied with how well he had done. Not even Snape's sourness could bring the mood down now!
Tomorrow, it would be time for the students of Hogwarts to return to their homes for Summer break. It had been a wild year, and things looked good. Ed had written to him that after his mandatory two weeks with the Dursleys to recharge his Blood Wards, they would be heading across the pond to America. New Orleans, to be precise. He was looking forward to it!
Harry was also glad there hadn't been any more attacks since Percy and Penelope after Christmas Break. After freeing the victims of the earlier incidents from the petrification and telling the school what was responsible, the Heir of Slytherin had gone into hiding, not daring to make so much as a peep.
Not to say that there weren't unusual occurrences happening throughout Hogwarts. Mysterious noises, like hissing and slithering, had been heard by prefects at night. Spiders fleeing the castle en mass, to the point that nobody had seen one in months. The ghosts reported a terrible sense of dread clinging to the walls in some places as well. And Peeves? Even the poltergeist had become withdrawn and hadn't been seen in weeks, apparently even more afraid of the Basilisk than he was willing to pull pranks.
Yet the heir seemed to have given up on murder via giant snake, and since nobody had died or gotten hurt, people were thinking the worst had come to pass. Maybe Basilisk would go to sleep again for another fifty-ish years like the last time, too!
Harry wasn't so sure. This felt too much like the calm before the storm. 'Maybe I'm a Seer too, like Ed,' the Boy-Who-Lived thought to himself in dark amusement.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a panicked blonde wearing a robe with green highlights rushed into the library, homing in on the table where Harry and his friends were sitting and all but tackling the bespectacled boy.
"Harry! Please! You have to help me!" Daphne begged, grabbing onto the front of Harry's robes, her expression wild and fearful.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. Behind her, Tracy Davis jogged up to her friend, panting heavily.
"My sister! It's Astoria!" Daphne sobbed. "She's gone!"
"Huh?" Harry uttered, confused. He wasn't the only one. The students in the library were all bewildered by the crying Slytherin.
"It was the Chamber of Secrets!" Tracy exclaimed. "It was opened, and Astoria was taken into it!"
That caused an uproar. The only reason Madam Pince didn't swoop down on them was thanks to the Muffling charms Hermione and a few others had cast around the area as soon as Daphne and Tracy had appeared.
"It was on the walls of the Slytherin common room," Tracy said when the noise settled a bit, Daphne too overwhelmed to explain. "It said Astoria was going to die down there!"
"Please, help me!" Daphne begged, clinging to Harry.
Almost as a reflex he nodded. "Alright, I'll help," he promised.
"We'll all help!" Sally-Anne declared.
"But how can we find Astoria and the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione wondered. "The latter has been missing for centuries!"
"Mrytle!" Neville suddenly said aloud, and everyone turned to him in bewilderment.
"What about her?" Su Li, a Ravenclaw, asked.
"I think… I think Mrytle might know where the Chamber of Secrets is!" the pudgy boy exclaimed.
"How?" Daphne demanded.
"During Mr. Nicholas' Deathday, she told me that the last thing she saw in life before becoming a ghost was a pair of large, yellow eyes," Neville said slowly. "She was also the final victim of the attacks when the Chamber was opened fifty-odd years ago, and the only one who died."
"She died in the bathroom," Lavender pointed out, reminding the other students of this fact.
"Wait, are you suggesting that the Chamber of Secrets is in a girl's washroom?" Tracy asked, nose scrunching up.
"No… not the bathroom itself… in the pipes!" Susan exclaimed. "That's how the Basilisk has been getting around without anybody noticing! I mean, a huge snake is kinda hard to miss, right?"
"When I first heard it, the hissing was coming from the walls," Harry muttered. "And the first victim, Ms. Norris, was right outside the second-floor bathroom!"
"There must be a spell or something on pipes to let them change shape and size to allow the Basilisk to move through them," Justin suggested, and everyone started to discuss the possibilities of this. Most seemed skeptical, but the theory couldn't be discarded.
"What about my sister?!" Daphne demanded angrily, cutting off the chatting, some sheepishly looking away.
"We have to warn the teachers," Hermione declared.
"We do," Harry agreed. "But who exactly do we tell?"
"Not Lockheart," Terry Boot said disdainfully. "The man doesn't know a damn thing!"
Some girls shouted at him for that, while the boys backed Terry up.
"The headmaster needs to be informed!" Hannah stated, breaking up the argument. "And the heads of the houses should be warned, too!"
"They didn't really listen to us last year," Dean Thomas grumbled.
"I mean, they kinda did, in the end," Neville said.
"And they totally let Quirrell get away with that mirror," Kellah huffed.
"Regardless of what happens and who we tell, though, you'll have to help the teachers find the Chamber of Secrets, Harry," Ron spoke up.
"Why me?" Harry asked, confused.
"You're a Parseltongue, Harry," Ron said. "Just like Salazar Slytherin! I'll bet you're the only person who can open the Chamber of Secrets!"
"That makes sense," Tracy muttered.
"Come on, let's go find the teachers!" Hermione said, standing up, and the study group poured out of the library. The tidal wave of students broke apart into smaller groups, heading off to find the teachers in charge of the four houses.
"Professor McGonagall!" Lavender exclaimed as they burst into the Transfiguration classroom.
"Miss Brown?" their teacher asked, emerging from a side room in the back. "What is the matter?"
"Astoria Greengrass has gone missing!" Lavender explained. "She was taken to the Chamber of Secrets!"
"My word!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Are you sure?!"
"Daphne and Tracy came to us!" Sally-Anne replied.
"Yeah, they told us that somebody had written a warning on the walls of their common room," Seamus explained.
"Why did they come to you for help?" the professor wondered.
"Because Snape is a git," Ron muttered, only to get elbowed in the ribs by Hermione.
"Probably because I was able to figure out what Slytherin's Monster was, and they were hoping I could find the Chamber," Harry said.
"And did you?" McGonagall inquired. To her shock, her students all nodded.
"It was actually Neville who did so," Harry admitted. "He figured out that Mrytle was the Basilisk's last victim, and that the Basilisk is moving through the castle's plumbing!"
"The plumbing?" McGonagall muttered. "That would be… no, but perhaps… if…"
She shook her head. "I see. Wait a moment." The professor flicked her wand and summoned a ghostly cat. "Albus, the students have discovered the Chamber of Secrets! Meet us at the second-floor girl's washroom!"
The cat then took off, phasing through the walls as it ran off to deliver the message. "Come, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said.
"You want me to come with you?" Harry asked.
"If you are correct, then you're ability to speak to snake will likely be vital," she replied.
"That's what I said," Ron commented, looking smug.
"The rest of you! Return to the dorms!" McGonagall ordered. "Inform the prefects to recall all students and to lock down the tower until I return!"
The Gryffindors scrambled out of the classroom, rushing to obey, while Harry fell in beside the Deputy Headmistress as she hurried along to the bathroom.
There, the two of them ran into Flitwick, Snape, and Sprout, who were standing inside, waving their wands and trying to scan the room.
"Where's Albus?" McGonagall demanded, looking around at her fellow educators.
"Lockheart is missing," Flitwick revealed. "The headmaster is trying to find him."
"What is the boy doing here?" Snape demanded, glaring at the last member of House Potter.
"He's a Parseltongue, Severus," Sprout said. "Use your imagination!"
Harry was taken aback by the Herbology professor's sassy retort, and he wasn't the only one. Snape and Flitwick both stared at her, but McGonagall seemed amused.
"People forget that a badger has claws and fangs," the Transfiguration professor commented with a chuckle, before stepping inside, Harry trailing behind. "Miss Warren! Are you here?"
"Yes, professor?" Moaning Myrtle inquired, popping out of her toilet.
"The students think you know where the Chamber of Secrets is," McGonagall stated. "What happened on the night you died?"
"Oh, it was awful!" Myrtle said in a melodramatic way. "I was crying in this very stall because Hornby had been so very mean to me that day, but suddenly, I heard a boy speaking. Hissing, really. I opened the door to give him a piece of my mind, because boys aren't supposed to be in here! Yet when I did, I saw giant, slitted yellow eyes staring back at me! And then I died."
"Hissing… where exactly was the hissing coming from?" Flitwick asked urgently.
"Over there," Myrtle replied, pointing towards the row of sinks directly in front of her stall. The teachers immediately started to cast spells at it.
"Nothing," Snape muttered after a moment.
"Which in and of itself is telling," Flitwick declared. "There should be some traces of spellwork and magic in the sinks from the water purification runes, yet not a single spark to be found!"
"A ward of some sort to prevent detection?" Sprout guessed.
"If there is, it's a strong one," Snape conceded.
"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall requested.
"Uh, what should I do?" he asked. "Just… talk to it?"
"If you would," she said.
"Um… open," Harry said lamely.
"Perhaps you need to try talking to it as if it's a snake?" Sprout suggested when nothing happened.
~"Open,"~ Harry murmured once more, pretending the sink's pipe he was staring at was a snake. To his and everyone else's shock, it worked! The sink right next to the one he'd been talking to started to move, sinking into the floor with a rumble and revealing a massive, slimy hole leading deep into the depths of the castle.
"Well I'll be!" Flitwick said excitedly. "It worked! Some sort of password trigger?"
"Could be," Snape grunted. "Perhaps a runic sequence tied to a ward schematic based on Parseltongue words?"
"Whatever it is, there's a way down," Sprout said, raising her wand and shining a beam of light down into the hole.
"Looks slippery," Harry muttered. "Should we get some brooms?"
"Not a bad idea, but perhaps… Mr. Potter, could you try asking for stairs?" the Charms professor requested.
~"Stairs, please,"~ Harry said, closing his eyes in order to visualize a snake in his mind's eye. Another rumble rang out, and when he opened his eyes, the slimy hole had gained some stairs. Still slimy, though.
"Let's go," McGonagall said, scrubbing away the slime sticking to the floor and walls with a flick of her wand.
"Stay close to our side," Sprout instructed Harry. "We'll protect you."
He nodded nervously, and stuck to the side of his teachers. Professor Flitwick went first, followed by Snape, McGonagall, and then Harry and Sprout taking up the rear. The descent was silent, the darkness just barely banished by the lights on the ends of the wands.
"We're below the dungeons," Snape said as they reached the bottom of the staircase.
"Remarkable! To think there was a whole level of the castle we had no idea about," Flitwick murmured as he examined the walls.
"Did the House Elves know of this place?" Harry wondered. Considering how dirty it was, the answer was probably 'no.' Even in the most unused parts of Hogwarts, the House Elves made sure to dust and tidy up at regular intervals. The weird green ooze clinging to every surface would never have been tolerated by the cleanliness obsessed servants.
"Unplottable charms… Anti-Scrying wards… an assortment of primitive anti-interference spellwork and what appears to be a crude spatial distortion hex connected to the plumbing…" Flitwick muttered as he examined the construction of the Chamber. "Very interesting. This explains why nobody ever found the Chamber of Secrets. It's almost like this place is an entirely different location rather than part of Hogwarts as a whole!"
Snape nodded, intrigued, before wincing and clutching his arm.
"Severus?" McGonagall asked, squinting at the Potion's professor.
"It's nothing," he replied through gritted teeth. Nobody believed him, but they left it alone, focusing instead on traveling through the Chamber, trying to find Astoria and the heir.
They came across a wall, but Harry was able to open it. They all nearly had a heart attack when they found the Basilisk skin on the other side.
"Sweet Merlin!" Sprout exclaimed.
"If this is its shed skin, how big it is right now?" McGonagall wondered in horror.
"Remarkably well-preserved," Flitwick muttered, Snape nodding in agreement.
"It's recent," the Potioneer stated. "Otherwise there would be more traces of decay."
"Let us keep going," McGonagall declared after a moment.
Continuing on, they eventually arrived at a large chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling filled with statues and lit with eerie green flames. Water dripped, and the air itself was damp and unpleasantly slick.
"Salazar Slytherin," Snape muttered in awe, looking up at the central statue which depicted a severe-faced man with a sharp, pointy beard and large eyebrows.
"That's right. My ancestor," a smug voice called out, and the group spun around to face a teenager wearing school robes. At his feet, Astoria twitched and moaned, a dirty old diary clutched in her hands.
"Tom?!" McGonagall exclaimed in disbelief, staring at the student. Snape's face turned paled, and he clutched at his arm tighter.
"Ah, Minnie. You got old," the young man sneered, folding his arms across his chest.
"You know him?" Sprout demanded.
"Tom Marvello Riddle, Head Boy and recipient of an award for services rendered to the school," McGonagall replied. "He attended school sixty years ago!"
"Yes, it is I," Tom said with a smirk. "Though from the memories of this adorable little girl, you know me by a different name these days."
He took out a wand, and began to carve glowing words into the air that formed his name. Then, he rearranged the letters, causing Harry and the professors to gasp in horror at what he'd spelled out.
"I am Lord Voldemort," Tom said grandly, taking a slight bow. "A pleasure!"
"Impossible… Impossible!" McGonagall exclaimed. "You died! You were dead!"
"I likely faked my death," Tom Riddle replied with a shrug. "Seems like something I would do."
"How could you become Voldemort, though?!" the Transfiguration professor demanded. "You were a Half-blood!"
That caused everyone to jerk with a start of disbelief while Tom frowned. "I bear the blood of Slytherin. The Death Eaters clearly knew the purity of my lineage despite my wretch of a father's mundane ancestry."
"I can assure you, that was not the case," Snape retorted, wincing immediately afterwards.
"Hmm. You seem to have a curse upon you… one tied to my soul," Tom mused, intrigued. He reached out with a hand and Snape collapsed to his knees with a cry of pain.
"Release him!" McGonagall demanded. "And release Miss Greengrass!"
"No, I will not," Tom shot back. Flitwick shot a spell at him, but it passed through, like he was a hologram!
"Heh, nice try, but I don't currently have a body. Not yet, at least," Tom snickered at Flitwick's dumbfounded expression.
"You… what have you done to yourself?!" Sprout demanded.
"Me? I did nothing. It's all little Astoria's fault," Tom said, reaching down and stroking the pale girl's cheek. "She was the one who called to me, who invited me in. She poured her heart out to me, and I replaced the hole that was left behind."
Harry's eyes locked onto the diary, while Flitwick paled.
"A Horcrux!" he spat, and Tom raised an eyebrow.
"Hmm, you know of it?"
"It is the most evil of magic!" the half-goblin teacher exclaimed. "To murder innocence itself in exchange for splitting your soul in an attempt to gain a false immortality!"
"Well, that's unfortunate," Tom sighed. "I suppose I have to kill you, now that you know my little secret."
He then turned to the statue. ~"Hear me, Beast of Slytherin! I command you to kill the interlopers! Feast on their entrails!"~
"It's coming!" Harry exclaimed in fright. "The Basilisk is coming!"
Tom glared at the Boy-Who-Lived. "You… I remember you. The girl told me how you are the one who supposedly killed me. I will enjoy finding out how you did so."
He then grinned. "I think I will make you my new body! This child is sick and will not last long, so a fresh, healthy body would be much better! And who better than the one who vanquished my older form?"
McGonagall picked up Harry and dragged him away, but it was too late. The door leading to the chamber slammed shut, and no matter how Harry shouted at it in Parseltongue it refused to budge.
"Get ready!" Flitwick shouted. "Here it comes!"
The mouth of the Slytherin statue creaked open, and from within a terrifying sight emerged. Over sixty feet long with poison-drenched fangs as long as his arms, the Basilisk landed on the floor with a thump.
~"Kill!"~ the Basilisk hissed in a curiously feminine voice. ~"Fresh meat! Kill!"~
~"Stop!"~ Harry called out. It unfortunately ignored him, and Tom laughed.
"Did you think that would work?!" Tom cackled. "Only those of direct descent can command it!"
In response, McGonagall transfigured several pieces of rock into snarling wolves while Flitwick conjured several floating mirrors. Sprout withdrew several bags of seeds and began to summon binding vines of Devil's Snare to entangle the gargantuan serpent while Snape, fighting the pain assailing him, lashed out with dark spells that left bloody gouges in the monster's side. Unfortunately, for all of their efforts, it did little to the monstrous creature as it thrashed and rampaged.
As they did this, Harry immediately clenched his eyes shut, trying to avoid accidentally looking at the Basilisk as he stood in the corner of the room, shivering.
All the while, Tom Riddle Jr. laughed maniacally, taunting the teachers. "You'll never be able to win! I am the Heir of Slytherin! The world will bow before me!"
"You arrogant little-!" McGonagall hissed in a cat-like manner.
"I have the right to be arrogant!" Tom sneered. "You cannot defeat me! And Dumbledore is gone, yes?"
"What did you do to Lockheart?" Flitwick demanded, instantly guessing that there was a connection between the Defense Teacher's absence and Tom's revival.
"The idiot was very easy to trick and dispose of. All I did was have my little friend here tell him a few lies and he went rushing off into the Forbidden Forest to find his next book," Tom drawled. "I'll be surprised if he makes it out alive."
"You will be punished for this," Sprout declared.
"I am immortal, I am beyond your ability to harm," Tom sneered.
A brilliant explosion of red and gold flames erupted near the ceiling of the Chamber, and an echoing cry that filled everyone who heard it with hope rang out from the center of the burning mass that had manifested out of nowhere. Even Harry, with his eyes closed, was able to see it when it appeared, the light banishing the shadows that clung to the walls.
"Fawkes?!" McGonagall exclaimed in disbelief as the Headmaster's fiery bird appeared in the air above them. It dropped something into Harry's hands, and then divebombed the Basilisk, flaming talons rending apart its eyes.
In an instant the battle changed in favor of the professors, who immediately moved to take advantage of the monster's blindness. Flitwick sent waves of glittering charms that caused it pain, while Snape sent drill-like beams of sickly orange magic that managed to create bloody craters all over the serpent's body. Nearby, Sprout brought more vines to pin it in place, some of which seemed to be trying to suck the blood out of the Basilisk's injuries, and McGonagall transfigured more creatures such as moles, giant beetles, and more, these ones clambering all over the Basilisk and trying to burrow into the wounds that had been made.
"NO!" Tom roared. "Sniff them out! Find them! Kill them!"
As if prepared for that order, Flitwick filled the air with a variety of different scents, no doubt to confuse the Basilisk. He also unleashed gouts of flame to bamboozle the heat detecting organs the giant snake possessed, protecting the rest of the teachers.
Meanwhile, Harry stared at the Sorting Hat that had landed in his hands.
"Hello again, Mr. Potter," the hat said.
"Err, hello, sir," Harry replied, somewhat surprised to see it talking to him.
"So polite! Don't see that much anymore," the Sorting Hat chuckled. "Alas, no time for pleasantries. I have a gift for you."
Confused, Harry wondered what he meant by that, but then he felt something heavy resting within the pointy bit of the magical hat. Curious, he reached in, and found something hard. When he pulled it out, it revealed itself to be a beautiful silver sword studded with rubies. In addition, a small golden ring with a tiny red gem fell out into his hand.
"Quick, put me on, along with the ring!" the Sorting Hat urged, and Harry did so. Immediately, Harry knew what he had to do. As he looked up at the Basilisk, Harry was able to see the way it moved and predict what it would do next.
Thoughts and tactics that were not his own flooded his mind, and Harry somehow knew that these were Godric Gryffindor's memories of battle, teaching him how to fight, where to strike, and what he needed to do to slay the beast and save the school.
There was no battle cry. No rousing speech. Just the Boy Who Lived gripping the legendary blade of Godric Gryffindor tightly as he ran towards the Basilisk.
"HARRY!" Professor McGonagall cried out, and Flitwick raised his wand to try and stop him, but Tom lashed out with his stolen wand, countering the Charms Professor's spell with a jet of oily grey sparks.
"Let him die if he wishes!" the boy who would become Voldemort laughed, only for his mockery to die in his throat as Harry shouted ~"BOW TO ME!"~ in Parseltongue, his voice overlayed with another, older one that came from the Sorting Hat, and the Basilisk obeyed.
Not entirely willingly, if the way it slammed its head into the floor of the Chamber was any indicator, but it had worked, and before Slytherin's Monster could recover, the professors took advantage of its stunned state to throw even more spells at it to pin it in place.
Still the Basilisk resisted, and it opened its maw to swallow Harry whole. Yet that was the opening the boy needed as he drove the blade upwards, piercing the roof of its mouth with the majestic blade. Silvery metal struck deep into the monster's brain, and a rumbling hiss accompanied a shower of burning blood that splattered over Harry.
With one final bout of desperation the thousand-year-old Basilisk tried to bite down, attempting to clamp onto Harry.
The fangs descended and Harry felt the Sorting Hat tell him to move one step back and to the left, and he did so, trusting it. Most of the venomous fangs missed, yet as they did, the edge of one slashed downwards and raked across his forehead, bisecting his scar.
A single scratch, but that was enough for a torrent of pain to rush into his body, and everything turned white.
Harry looked around, confused. Why was he standing in a living room? And why was everything so painfully white?
White couch and furniture, white walls, white floor and ceiling. White fluorescent lights, and a white coffee table that had a white vase full of lily flowers.
For some reason, a grotesque, malformed bloody lump was cowering under the table, trying to hide from the light. It moaned when Harry tried to get a better look at it.
"Eww," he grunted. "What is that?"
"That is what happens when you do horrible things to try to live forever," a soft woman's voice informed him, and Harry jerked in surprise, spinning around to find somebody sitting on the couch.
Wearing a plain white dress, she had red hair and bright green eyes, which currently were filled with unshed tears.
"Mom?" he whispered, his own green eyes wide as he stared at the woman he had only ever seen in photos. He hadn't mastered Occlumency enough to be able to remember his time as a baby yet, and so those photos from Ed and Hagrid were the only times he'd ever seen his parents.
"My baby!" Lily replied with a choked sob, reaching out for him, and he flung himself into her arms.
"Oh, my precious baby boy," she murmured. "I've missed you so much."
"Mom! Mom!" Harry sobbed out.
"I've been watching you," Lily told him. "Your father and I are so proud of you. And so very, very sorry."
"Please don't leave me again!" he begged, nuzzling himself deeper into her body.
Lily hesitated. "I-I cannot stay," she said. "But… but if… no…"
"What? What is it?" Harry asked her.
"I can't stay, but… you could come with me," Lily said.
"I could?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes. You've done enough," Lily told him. "You saved the girl, stopped the monster, and broken the fate that bound you. You're free at last."
"What about my friends?" Harry wondered.
"It's not their time," his mother replied with a shake of her head. "Someday. But not today."
Harry looked down. He wasn't sure what to do. Should he stay? Or go?
"Whatever you decide, know that we will always love you," Lily vowed.
"I want… I can't leave my friends," Harry finally said. "I'm sorry!"
"No, baby, it was wrong of me to even make the suggestion," Lily told him. "You're still young. You have so much ahead of you!"
"Voldemort…" Harry muttered. "He's still alive, isn't he?"
"He is. But you will defeat him. You have friends to help you to do so, after all," Lily said, brimming with confidence.
"I love you," Harry said, hugging her. He could feel himself waking up, the room he was in starting to fade away.
"I love you, too," Lily declared. "We all love you, and will be with you every step of the way."
The white room vanished, leaving Harry in darkness. And for some reason, his face was wet? And there was a sound of heartbreaking sorrow echoing in his ears, but also unbridled joy.
With a groan, Harry sat up, running a hand over his face. His head hurt, and his whole body felt sore. And then a pair of strong arms grabbed him in a tight hug.
"Harry!" McGonagall exclaimed, his Head of House checking him over while the other professors crowded around him. The Sorting Hat had fallen off at some point, but the diminutive Charms professor had ahold of it.
"Impossible... Impossible, impossible!" Tom screamed, glaring at Harry, enraged. "You… you cheated! You're not supposed to be alive!"
He then glared at Fawkes, the phoenix sitting proudly atop the head of the slain Basilisk. "Pheonix tears cannot bring back the dead!"
Harry glanced down at his right hand where the ring rested on his index finger. The golden band was unblemished, but the gem set in it was cracked and grey.
'Ed… Mr. Flamel… thank you,' Harry thought to himself, realizing what the jewel had actually been, and where it had come from. Somehow, the Philosopher's Stone, or a copy of it, combined with Fawkes magical tears, had brought him back from the brink of death.
He didn't know why Ed's ring had been inside the Sorting Hat, but right now, he didn't care. He had bigger things to worry about.
Pushing himself to his feet, the teachers tried to stop him from moving, but Fawkes let out a cry that stopped them, and filled Harry with a second wind. Wiping blood and phoenix tears away from his face, Harry stalked over to phantasmal teenager, who recoiled.
"No… what are you doing?" he demanded, but then Tom's eyes glanced down at the diary held in Astoria's hands. "NO! STAY AWAY!"
He raised his wand towards Harry, but Snape roared out, "Expelliarmus!" and the wand went flying away.
Without pausing, Harry knelt beside Astoria and gently tugged the book from her grasp. He then plunged Gryffindor's sword, coated in Basilisk blood and venom, through the center of it, and Tom Riddle Jr. let out a horrific cry, form rippling before vanishing like smoke.
At the same time, the diary exploded, spewing ink everywhere, and Harry tossed it aside in disgust as it coated his robes.
"Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick murmured. "You… well done. A hundred points to Gryffindor."
Harry nodded, but kept his eyes locked onto the girl at his feet. "Astoria… is she going to be okay?"
"I do not know," McGonagall replied as the teachers joined him. Her expression was pinched with worry.
"Her Blood Curse has started to overwhelm her body and magic," Snape said as he knelt beside her, checking her over. "Proximity to the… Horcrux, was it? Seems to have agitated the curse and accelerated it while also fusing with the traces of foreign Dark magic from the artifact into something new. Before, she had maybe another decade before it began to truly harm her, but now? She will be lucky to survive the night."
"That… isn't there something we can do?" Harry gasped.
"I'm afraid not," Flitwick said sadly. "Young Greengrass's condition has been looked at by the finest Curse Breakers and Healers from across the world. There was no cure when it was still dormant and weaker. But now, due to Voldemort's Horcrux… I fear there is even less hope."
"Actually, there may be a way," the Sorting Hat spoke up, and everyone turned to stare at it.
"How?" Harry asked desperately.
"It is simple. You, young Harry Potter, must offer Astoria your blood. A sacrifice, willingly given," the hat declared.
"That is Dark magic!" Sprout gasped.
"That which is called 'Dark' can often be far better as a cure than anything belonging to the Light. After all, even the antidote to a snake's bite is made from its venom," the Sorting Hat replied. "And young Harry here is the only one whose blood will work."
"Because of my mother's sacrifice," Harry murmured in realization.
"The potent sacrifice of love your mother made protects from ill influence caused by Voldemort. If Astoria partakes of your blood, this protection will pass on to her, stopping the Horcrux's negative influence upon her," the Sorting Hat revealed. "Combined with the Elixir of Life, phoenix tears, and Basilisk venom that flows through your veins, it will be enough to burn the Blood Curse from the child's body while also restoring her to a state that will be strong enough to survive."
"However!" the hat continued in a warning tone. "If you do this, the Blood Wards that protect you will cease to be. They will linger, for another year or two, but will eventually fade completely. You will be as vulnerable to Voldemort's magic and presence as any other person at that point."
"Is that even a question?" Harry asked, before turning back to Astoria.
Without hesitation, and before anyone could stop him, the Boy Who Lived reached up to his forehead and swapped a finger across it, running the digit over his scar. A new line had joined it where the Basilisk's fang had nicked the flesh, creating a thin, vertical cut through the lightning bolt. It was still bleeding a bit, and Harry took some of his blood onto his finger before smearing it on Astoria's lips.
She unconsciously licked her lips and the tip of Harry's finger, consuming the blood, before shuddering as the magic entered her body.
"Did it work?" Harry asked hopefully. Nothing seemed to be happening, but perhaps it was slow acting?
"By this time tomorrow, it will be like the Blood Curse was never there," the Sorting Hat assured him, a note of pride in its voice as it spoke.
"How did you know that this was possible?" McGonagall asked in disbelief.
"People forget that I knew all four Founders, and that I was worn on their heads quite a few times so I might better know what qualities they desired from their students," the Sorting Hat declared proudly. "I know all that they know. And this includes several kinds of ancient, esoteric magic lost to the ages."
"I see," McGonagall muttered. "But how are we going to get out of here? The door was sealed and Harry – I mean, Mr. Potter, couldn't open it."
"With the Basilisk and Tom no longer among the living, the barrier should be removed," the hat informed them. "However, there is an easier way out. Fawkes, if you would be so kind?"
The phoenix trilled a song of victory, and the Chamber of Secrets was enveloped in a tide of gold and red flames.
The next thing they knew, everyone was outside Hogwarts on the lawn.
"Oh, well, that makes it easier," Sprout murmured.
"Why bring us here?" Flitwick wondered. The sudden chorus of screams that rose up from the castle caused everyone to first look up at the dozens of students whose were staring out the windows at their group, and then the group who'd ventured into the hidden lair turned around to find that Fawkes had brought the Basilisk's corpse with them when it had flamed everyone out.
"Cheeky bird," the Sorting Hat chuckled. Fawkes let out a smug trill, amusement echoing throughout across the school's grounds and calming the shrieking children.
"Let us get these two to Pomfrey before we do anything," Snape suggested, picking up Astoria from the grass, while McGonagall nodded in agreement and waved her wand, lifting Harry up into the air and floating him towards the castle.
Flitwick and Sprout created a few wards around the enormous monster's corpse, as well as a few physical barriers to deter any overly curious students from approaching, before joining the other two Heads of House as they hurried into the castle and the infirmary.
'This will be one bloody story for Ed and the rest,' Harry thought to himself in a daze. Were all of his years at Hogwarts going to end like this?
111 &&& 111
Chapter 59: Chapter 59: The Truth Comes Loose
Chapter Text
Chapter 59: The Truth Comes Loose
It was a quiet night. A pleasantly warm one, too, right at the cusp of summer. Tomorrow was the day Harry would be returning from Hogwarts, and while I wanted to go and pick him up, I knew that the Dursleys would have to have him for the next two weeks. Best if I don't show my face around them until then.
I'd seen the emergency edition of the Daily Prophet that had just come out. The front-page picture was of Harry standing in front of a massive Basilisk corpse while shaking the hand of a very nervous and overwhelmed looking Minister Fudge. In Harry's free hand, the Sword of Gryffindor was held, pointed downwards, while Fawkes photobombed the picture by flying down into the shot behind the duo and startling Fudge.
According to the article, just mere hours ago, Harry had ventured into the Chamber of Secrets with the Heads of House and slain Slytherin's Beast, saving the school and everyone in it. The article was extremely flattering towards Harry, as well as brown-nosed the Minister of Magic, praising him for 'quick and decisive thinking' even though he'd likely done nothing of the sort.
Furthermore, Harry was now the proud owner of a multi-ton, thousand-year-old magical monster thanks to the Rite of Conquest, an old rule that said if you killed a creature in combat you basically owned its remains. He would also be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, for his dedication and bravery and was going to be even more famous than ever.
I was proud of him. And surprised. I hadn't thought Astoria Greengrass would become Tom Riddle's victim, but I was glad she had survived the ordeal.
There was also a smaller article about Gilderoy Lockheart being mauled by Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest. He'd been saved by Dumbledore before they could devour him, but the paralytic venom they'd injected into the foppish fake had caused an allergic reaction. Lockheart had been badly disfigured and would likely never walk again. Couldn't have happened to a nicer brain-erasing liar in my opinion.
At the moment, however, I was in my flat, busy doing my homework, when a red bird suddenly appeared in my kitchen with a blaze of flames and damn near set off my smoke alarm in the process.
"Whoa! Watch it!" I exclaimed, leaping to my feet as the phoenix popped into existence.
Fawkes – for who else could it have been? – let out an amused trill before flying over and dropping a familiar old hat onto my head.
"Hello again," the Sorting Hat greeted politely.
"Hello," I replied, slowly sitting back down. "Kinda wish you'd let me know you were coming over."
"Apologies, but Fawkes and I thought it best to inform you ourselves that the deed is done. Valancia is no more, the detestable piece of Tom Riddle is gone, and the Chamber is back under the control of the school wards."
"Valancia?" I asked.
"The name Salazar gave the Basilisk," the hat replied. "We found the name inside the Chamber of Secrets after the fact."
"Mmm. I see," I muttered. "Did Harry… did the Horcrux inside of him get removed as well without hurting him like we planned?"
My voice was hopeful as I asked this. The hat shifted about on my head, while Fawkes refused to look me in the eyes.
"Young Mr. Potter's heart stopped for but a moment when one of the fangs scratched his forehead. He was dead, but the combination of the Philosopher's Stone and Fawkes' tears brought him back immediately, no worse for the wear," the Sorting Hat said solemnly.
"That… that is not what I wanted," I said. For the first time in a while I clamped down on my emotions with Occlumency in order to not feel enraged or betrayed. I had let them see my memories, but I had wanted them to do more than that to help Harry!
Only the fact that I knew he was alive and well thanks to the newspaper article kept me from saying or doing anything I might regret.
"But it was one of the 'ideas' you had in your head, and one that both I and Fawkes believed would be the most… successful," the hat replied. I frowned at that.
"Explain, please," I requested tersely, and the hat did a sort of wobble.
"You know that the boy had a prophecy spoken of him," The Sorting Hat said. "And you also know that a prophecy spoken by a true Seer always comes to pass."
"So do all 'prophecy's', even those made by frauds, if people believe in them enough," I retorted.
"Ah, but the magic of the prophecy makes things more tricky to deal with," the hat sighed. "To put it simply, Harry and Voldemort are – or were – destined to fight. In the Chamber of Secrets, at the graveyard… or in the woods in several years' time. But that is no longer the case."
"What about my other ideas for removing the Horcrux?" I demanded. "Muggles can restart a person's heart after it stops! Why couldn't we have done that?!"
"An ingenious idea, but it would not work," the ancient headpiece stated confidently. "Magic makes things such as curses very difficult to remove. And a Horcrux is darkest magic, so very cruel and obscene. It is not tied to 'life,' but rather the 'soul' and magic itself. You could stop Mr. Potter's heart and have him be clinically dead as many times as you wanted but it would never cause the Horcrux to come loose. And even if Mr. Potter did stay dead, his skull would remain as the anchor for the soul shard. The only way to ensure the Horcrux was destroyed permanently would be via Fiendfyre, or some other method of total obliteration."
"Like Basilisk venom," I realized.
"Indeed," the hat confirmed. "The other way, the way that happened in the 'original' timeline, was due to Voldemort committing was what essentially suicide. A Horcrux can also be broken by the one who made it. In the forest on the eve of the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort killed Harry Potter, unknowingly destroying the Horcrux in his scar by his own hand. Had the Dark Lord used any other spell other than the Killing Curse on Harry Potter, then the boy would have had no chance to revive due to his body being unharmed beyond the damage to his soul."
"And the events in the Chamber of Secrets?" I asked. "How does that resolve the prophecy?"
"A two-fold ploy," the Sorting Hat said with a smug tone. "The Basilisk's venom would scour young Potter of the Horcrux, and Fawkes' tears combined with the Philosopher's Stone would heal him. And, because Voldemort – or in this case, Mr. Riddle – compelled Slytherin's Monster to kill Harry Potter via Parseltongue, a magical language, it also counted as 'suicide' and would also ensure the removal of the Horcrux in the end. That is why Fawkes and I let Mr. Potter 'die' even if for just a brief moment. In doing so, Voldemort defeated himself by 'a power he knew not' and thus resolved the prophecy."
"That worked?" I uttered skeptically.
"It did. Magic is mysterious, Mr. Rose, and it can make the ephemeral quite tangible. In the Chamber of Secrets, Mr. Potter risked his life to save someone who he had no obligation towards. He opposed a being who has defiled the natural order. And he died doing so. In this way, the prophecy was fulfilled. Harry Potter is free."
I sagged, relinquishing my hold on the Occlumency at that. I wiped some stray tears of relief and joy out of my eyes, before taking off the Sorting Hat and pinning it and the phoenix with a sharp stare.
"Does that mean I can eliminate the bastard without worry?" I demanded.
"Feel free to do so. Without the prophecy binding either of them, it will be much easier. Young Potter need not face down a monster more than twice his age with pure luck as his only saving grace. You may do as you wish to the Death Eaters and Voldemort," the Sorting Hat declared, Fawkes letting out a victorious trill that had my blood pumping as a vicious grin slipped onto my face.
"Just know that he will not be an easy foe to face, even with your advantages over him, Mr. Rose," the hat warned me. "Fate will not move as it normally would have. Events won't be subtly guiding the two into a final confrontation where the defeat of one of them is guaranteed. Voldemort will react differently. The future will be unlike anything you can imagine."
"The future is always changing," I replied. "And I've been preparing for it."
"Hmm. You have, haven't you?" the hat chuckled. "Very well. Fawkes and I wish you all the best in your endeavors. I do hope to see what exactly will happen, going forward. And if your second long-term plan manages to come to fruition… well, I think you and Fawkes will be seeing more of each other."
I glanced at the beautiful crimson bird, and he let out an amused chirp. I nodded at him, and he nodded back, and then both he and the hat were gone in a flash of flames.
As they vanished, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd done the right thing. After a moment, I decided I had done what I could.
'And now, the prophecy is fulfilled,' I thought to myself with a smirk. 'That means it's time for Sirius, Remus, and I to step up our game.'
I had several plans and ideas for dealing with Voldemort. Some I'd have to discuss with Harry, as one of them was essentially using him as bait. If he was willing, of course.
Beyond that, though, Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes could be taken down one by one without issue. The ring was simple. Just burn the shed it was hiding in down with Fiendfyre. The Resurrection Stone itself would remain intact (probably), and the Horcrux inside the ring would be dealt with.
Slytherin's Locket and the Cup of Hufflepuff would be up to Sirius to handle. I'd let him know about them and he could deal with them as he saw fit.
The Diadem of Ravenclaw would be harder, but I had a plan to get into Hogwarts. Or rather, to get a man on the inside to do it. If Dumbledore followed the canon timeline still, Remus Lupin would be contacted over the Summer with a job offer. I'd advise the werewolf to take it in order to get access to the castle and the Room of Requirements that hide the Diadem. Then he could destroy it.
And if things didn't follow canon, then I or somebody else could sneak into the castle during the events of the Goblet of Fire. Again, assuming it went the same way. Which it might or might not, now that the prophecy was gone.
'And if, my hypothesis is correct, destroying the Diadem's Horcrux so should break the curse on the Defense job, too,' I mused to myself.
It was possible the curse on the job position was tied to Voldemort's life itself, but what if the real anchor was the Diadem, hidden in the castle? Using it as the source of the curse made more sense to me, but I'd have to ask a proper Cursebreaker about it to make sure.
One way or another, though, the Horcruxes would be eliminated one by one, leaving only Nagini as a potential Horcrux and Voldemort's original soul. And I had a couple plans to deal with them as well.
Still, there was one thing I couldn't help but ponder as I made my plans. 'Why the hell was Voldemort in Albania?'
That was where Professor Quirrell ended up getting possessed, and it was where Voldemort fled to twice. Both times after being banished by Harry Potter. So, why there?
There could have been a few reasons. One possibility was because it was where he'd found the Diadem of Ravenclaw. But that made no sense. The Diadem was no longer there, after all, it had been hidden in Hogwarts before his first defeat.
The second reason I'd thought of was due to magical power. Albania did have a rather dense Leyline network running through it, one of the strongest in Eastern Europe, in fact. But Stonehenge had the strongest collection of Leylines in all of Europe and was vastly more powerful. He could have hung around the British Isles if magical energy was what he needed. Heck, Hogwarts sat atop four Leylines! Voldemort had plenty of opportunity to feed on magic in the Isles.
Thirdly, it could have been for safety, to law low and hide. Again, though, why Albania specifically? There were closer hiding places. Germany and northern Europe in general had a large number of Dark leaning wizards, and he would have plenty of 'allies' in the region thanks to it being the center of Grindelwald's operations during the years leading up to, and then during, World War Two.
The information I'd dug up on Horcruxes said nothing about a disembodied spirit having to linger near one of their soul anchors. They could go where they pleased. And even when corporeal they weren't forced to stick by them. Though to be fair, Horcruxes were so rare nobody really had much knowledge on them. Certainly nothing on what happened to a person who split their soul as many times as Voldemort!
Still, I didn't know anything for sure. So, the question remained. Why Albania? Something in that corner of the world was important to Voldemort. What it was, I had no idea. And I needed to find out.
111 &&&&& 111
A few days after Fawkes and the Sorting Hat had come to me, I was in my office at the potion workshop, going over paperwork and looking at a few new options for hiring people.
On the magical side, a hag was interested, while more Squibs were approaching me. Or rather, Mark, but he was passing their details on to me for vetting. For the non-magical side of business, I was getting my new potion brewing equipment installed in the second warehouse. By the end of summer we'd have a second location churning out potions and creams to meet demands.
My potions were, technically, classified as Homeopathy, natural cures and what not. At this point in time there were no laws against selling them, so I was good for another couple of years, but I knew it would change.
Already I had a few requests from people Delilah and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley had told me were part of various research groups for samples of my products to test, and I had hesitated on introducing anything like Skele-gro, Blood Replenishers, or the Mind Sharpening potions because of it. Wiggenweld Cream and Hair Growth tonic would be all I'd put out, for now.
'Until I can find a researcher who'll play along with the Statute of Secrecy and help cover up my products' origins, it's took risky,' I thought to myself.
As much as I disregarded the Statute of Secrecy, there was only so far I could push it before I ended up breaking it or slipping up in a way that got the Aurors crashing down on me. Delilah and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley were looking into the researchers, and hopefully they find somebody who'd fit the bill.
Honestly, the biggest money-maker right now was my alchemically powered recycling and trash disposal business. It was growing quickly, and I was making strides to streamline and improve the process. Nicholas Flamel's journal had helped, but I was reaching the limits of what I could do with my current level of knowledge about alchemy.
There was also good news on the other business I was trying to get a foot into. Delilah's negotiations with Raincroft had been going well, and hopefully by the start of next year a majority of Waverider International Cargo Shipping would belong to us. Then, we could improve the shipping industry – or at least our little slice of it – with size expansion and weight reduction charms on the cargo containers to boost the amount of goods we could transport.
While I was thinking these things, the door to my office was practically kicked down as a scowling Sirius Black and Remus Lupin burst in, along with a sheepish Harry Potter trialing behind. I was surprised to see them, but I was also taken aback by the new scar that cut through Harry's lightning bolt on his forehead.
"Why didn't my secretary stop you?" I asked, deciding to focus on the important things. Namely, my guests.
"Disillusionment charms," Sirius replied brusquely.
"And the door? You don't think she'll notice that?" I inquired.
Remus waved his wand and it immediately repaired itself. Then, he and Sirius cast a few privacy charms to keep out eavesdroppers.
"Okay. What is it?" I asked when they were done.
"First of all, what the hell, kid?" Sirius demanded, slapping his palms onto the table.
"Gotta be more specific," I replied, raising an eyebrow at him while keeping a cool front up. Inside, however, I was panicking a little. What the hell were they upset about? What might they have discovered that I was hiding?
"A lotta things!" Sirius snarled. "First, how come you didn't say anything about having a bloody Philosopher's Stone?!"
"That was a gift from Nicholas Flamel," I retorted. "I didn't have to tell you about it."
"Fine," the animagus growled. "What about telling Harry about the Basilisk and not us?!"
"I also told you about it!" I shot back. And I had! I'd warned them about what was lurking in the school! Not my fault they didn't believe me when I told them!
"Sirius," Remus said, interrupting us and glancing at his best friend sharply. Sirius grumbled but settled down a bit while Harry shot me an apologetic look.
"Edward, Sirius and I have been talking, and we feel that you have been keeping secrets from us," Remus said firmly, looking me square in the eye. "Are you?"
"I am," I replied simply. "Do you want to know what I'm hiding from you?"
That brought Sirius and Remus up short. They hadn't expected that.
Seeing their expressions, I snorted. "I'm not Dumbledore. If you want to know the truths I've kept from you, ask. Understand, though, that I might not tell you everything, for one reason or another."
"And if we wanted the whole truth?" Remus asked. "Or at least, everything regarding Harry and his safety?"
For a moment, I hesitated. I looked over at Harry, and he just gave me a look that had me immediately feeling guilty. Trust. Unconditional trust. He believed in me, and I now I felt like a scumbag.
"Okay," I muttered. "I'll tell you what you want to know. For Harry."
"Did you know about the Horcruxes beforehand?" Sirius demanded.
"I did," I admitted. "I've known about them… for years. Long before I approached Remus with the job offer."
"Even the ones in the vault at Gringotts? Or in my own damn home?" Sirius asked.
"You found them?" I asked urgently, leaning forward, and the head of House Black nodded stiffly.
"When Harry told me about the diary he'd encountered, I recalled reading something similar in one of the foul tomes my family kept, and immediately began to search my home for Dark Artifacts and came across the locket. And when Kreacher told me about what had happened, what really happened, to my brother, it made me remember other things. Like all of the hints you'd been dropping to me about cleaning out Grimmauld Place and seizing the Lestrange vault… things started to add up," Sirius revealed. "I brought it up to Remus, and we, well… here we are."
"Did you destroy them?" I demanded.
"I burnt the locket myself," Sirius declared. "And the goblins destroyed the cup in front of me."
"Are there any others?" Remus asked, and I nodded.
"To my knowledge, only three more exist. One is hidden in Hogwarts. Another in a shed in a town I won't share the name of just yet, in case you go hunting after it without hearing what else I know. And lastly, a snake, which may or may not be a Horcrux yet, called Nagini."
"Not a Horcrux yet?" Remus asked, looking at me oddly.
"This another one of your Divination tricks?" Sirius asked. "Or are you claiming to be some sort of Seer? The most clear-sighted Seer to ever exist?"
"Yes, I am," I replied firmly. "Maybe I'm not a true Seer, but what I've seen, what I know… it's all come true so far."
"Are you a Seer?" Harry asked curiously.
"No. Yes. Maybe. But even if I wasn't I know for a fact that, thanks to a genuine true Seer, there was a prophecy made revolving around Harry," I told them, taking them by surprise. "Dumbledore knew of it. Voldemort knew half of it thanks to a spy. It was why he went after the Potters that night. Because Harry was prophesied to be the one to vanquish Voldemort. Well, one of the people fated to do so, at least."
"No… are you sure?" Remus asked in disbelief.
"I am," I replied. "I know this, same as I know the existence of the Horcruxes, same I as know so many other things."
"If you knew… why didn't you tell us?" Sirius demanded.
"I was afraid," I admitted in shame. "I was afraid of altering the timeline. I knew that Harry would come out unscathed. That he would defeat the Basilisk in the Chamber and, later, Voldemort himself. I hadn't planned on befriending Harry, or helping him, or any of you. Because even if I didn't, things would work out for the best, in the end."
I looked at Sirius and Remus. "You would have broken free of Azkaban yourself sometime this year after learning Peter was still alive by seeing his animagus form in a newspaper. You would not be exonerated, however, and Peter would escape and help revive the Dark Lord while you would have Dementors on your arse. And Remus, in the unaltered timeline, you received a job offer from Dumbledore to teach at Hogwarts during the coming school year but get outed as a werewolf. I didn't have to step in. But I did, and hopefully you agree that by doing do I've made things slightly better."
"Why did you, then?" Harry asked softly while the two older men shared uneasy looks with each other. "Why did you step in and help me?"
"Because when I first saw you that day at school, the way you flinched in fear at my very presence because all you knew was pain and loathing, I knew I couldn't not help," I said, lowering my head. "Should I have? I don't know. Do I regret it? No. Never. I couldn't call myself a decent human being if I let things continue as they had after seeing you in person."
"And that was the first time we ever met?" he inquired.
"I knew of you, but yes, that is the truth," I told him.
"What about the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked. "Did you really know what would happen down there? That I would… meet my mother?"
"I… no, I didn't," I said, taken aback by that information. "I knew you would face the Basilisk and slay it, that you would save Tom's victim and that Fawkes and the Sorting Hat would come to your aid. That was why I went to them for help. I asked them to take my ring to your side, so in the off-chance things didn't go as I'd foreseen, then perhaps you'd be a little bit safer."
There was silence for a long time as everyone just looked at me. Eventually, Harry walked around my desk and approached me, before giving me a hug.
"I forgive you," he said, and I blinked back tears.
"What? Why?" I asked, bewildered. "I lied to you for years!"
"I don't like that you did it," he admitted. "But even so, I know you just wanted to help me."
Hesitantly, I returned the hug. "Do you mean it?" I asked hopefully.
"I do," Harry promised. "You came to my aide when nobody else did, or would. I have friends, now. I'm happy. And you also wanted me to be happy. And not because it was my 'fate' or because you were told to do so, but because you cared about me, Harry Potter, as a person. Not Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived.'"
We hugged for a bit longer, before eventually separating.
"What happened in the Chamber of Secrets?" I asked, wiping tears out of my eyes.
What followed was a drastically changed tale from the original timeline. Four teachers confronting the Basilisk and discovering Voldemort's identity and the existence of his Horcruxes? Harry wielding the Sword of Gryffindor was expected, but the victim of the diary being Astoria Greengrass was a very interesting change, though I knew of it thanks to that special edition article in the Daily Prophet. And to hear that Harry had seen his mother inside of a white room that sounded very similar to the Death Station from the last book? That was definitely new.
"…and then I healed Astoria of her Blood Curse and the damage done by Voldemort possessing her. I lost the power of my mother's blood wards in the process, but I think that was an acceptable trade," Harry finished. "Afterwards, Fawkes took us all out of the Chamber. Astoria and I spent the night in the infirmary and then we rode the Hogwarts Express back home the next day."
"Alright, I admit, not what I'd expected," I said, impressed. "You did great, though, Harry. I'm proud of you. And have you got any plans for the Basilisk?"
"Professor McGonagall said she would contact some people. Since I killed it, I apparently own the rights to its corpse? Not sure what I'll do with a snake that big, though," Harry shrugged. "I guess I'll sell it."
"Keep some of the skin. It can make very durable defensive clothing. And maybe a fang and some poison. For getting rid of other Horcruxes," I suggested.
"Sirius and Remus said the same," Harry replied.
"Speaking of those two, when did you guys meet up?" I wondered.
"I picked him up from the platform," Sirius replied. He clearly didn't like or trust me anymore, but he was willing to play nice for Harry. "I wanted to see him. And I also wanted to give a few warnings to those relatives of his."
"Fair enough," I said. "I suppose that's when he told you about the events in the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Actually, that came later," Harry said. "Sirius gave me a magic mirror that let me talk to him and so I told him about it the day after I returned from Hogwarts."
"I'm still annoyed you didn't think to tell me about something that important as soon as we met," Sirius grumbled.
"That's fair," Harry said.
There was silence in my office after that. It was unpleasantly awkward with two of the three visitors looking at me with suspicion, but I did nothing about it. Honestly, I was getting off lightly.
"Do you want me to tell you anything else?" I eventually inquired, breaking the silence.
"We will discuss what you've revealed to us in depth later and ask more questions about what you haven't," Remus told me. "For now, though, what you've told is enough."
"Understood. Harry, do you still want to come with me to the United States?" I asked.
"Yes," he nodded eagerly. "I want to see it!"
I glanced at Sirius and Remus.
"I'm going with you two," Sirius stated. "It's not that I don't trust you…"
"No, no, I get it," I assured him. "And I bet you want to spend time with your godson, too."
"Yes," Sirius nodded.
"I'll order a ticket for you, then," I decided.
"Also, I'll admit I'm curious to see how Muggles live in other countries," Sirius hummed. "And to experience how they travel."
"It will be weird to experience after nothing but brooms," I warned, and Harry nodded in agreement.
The trio left my office shortly afterwards, off to do other things. It left me alone with my thoughts and paperwork.
Things hadn't gone like I'd expected. But letting out some of what I'd been bottling up… it felt freeing. Like a weight was now absent from my shoulders.
I did hope that Sirius and Remus would forgive me as well someday. Until then, though, I would wait and do what I could to keep helping Harry and preserving magic.
111 &&& 111
Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! And thank you for reading!
Chapter 60: Chapter 60: Gumbo and Good Times
Chapter Text
Chapter 60: Gumbo and Good Times
"So, this is the United States, huh?" Sirius muttered, looking around the city. We had finally arrived at the Crescent City earlier that morning. The flight from London's Heathrow airport had been a long one, something that had caused the last son of the Black family a lot of trouble. He had a problem with sitting still once the novelty of the trans-oceanic flight had worn off. I'd packed a Sleeping Potion, having anticipated this, and he'd snoozed through most of it.
Harry hadn't exactly enjoyed the flight, either. He much preferred brooms to airplanes. Luckily, a few books had helped him pass the time. As for me? Well, I'd packed my Gameboy, and enjoyed playing a bunch of games I'd remembered fondly from my childhood. Super Mario Land 2, Kirby's Dream Land, and of course, the one, the only, Battletoads.
Right now, though, both of them had their noses pressed against the windows of the taxi cab as we drove through the streets, looking at everything. New Orleans was vastly different compared to London, both the magical and the mundane sides. It was more colorful, though just as busy, and hotter as well.
"New Orleans was a French colony, before the Americans acquired it from Napoleon in the Louisiana Purchase of 1803," I helpfully supplied to the pair. I was sitting up front next to the driver, who was a middle-aged African-American man that had a 'seen it all' sort of attitude. "Of course, it was also a Spanish colony for a bit when they took it from France during one war or another."
"You sure sound like you know the history of our fair city," the cabbie commented.
"I did my research. I've also heard good things about the food here, too," I said. "Know where the best Gumbo is served?"
"Do I?" the cab driver laughed. "It's a bit early for lunch, but I know a place that's open soon. He won't mind serving us an early brunch."
"Lead the way!" I requested eagerly.
The cabbie brought us to a restaurant that was located off the main touristy streets, and closer to the part of town that was more for the locals than anything else. A middle-aged African-American husband and wife duo ran the place the cabbie took us to, and they greeted us warmly when we entered.
"You all look too thin!" the matronly woman frowned as she looked us over. "That won't do at all!"
"She's like Mrs. Weasley," Harry said in a bit of awe as the older woman bustled around, making us feel at home while talking a mile a minute as she did so.
"Some things transcend cultures and continents," I chuckled. "One of which is mothers who want to stuff our faces full of food."
"This place has the best damn gumbo in the country!" the cab driver declared as he sat down. He then pointed at a frame on the wall. "See? There's the proof!"
A newspaper clipping with a blue ribbon was immortalized in the frame, and the woman blushed.
"Oh, stop, you!" she giggled.
"Four bowls of your house special gumbo, then," I requested. It wasn't long before steaming bowls of food were brought out, and I took a moment to really take a deep whiff of the spices.
"It's good!" I praised as I spooned fresh, authentic crawfish gumbo into my mouth, savoring the flavors that exploded across my tongue.
Hole in the wall diners and restaurants could be hit or miss, but this one was definitely a hit. The food was excellent, and Harry and Sirius were eagerly digging into their meals as well.
"So what brings you out here to New Orleans?" the cab driver asked, making small talk.
"We're here to take in the sights," I replied.
"From your accents, you're from England, right?"
"Correct," I nodded. "This is Harry and his godfather, Sirius. My name's Edward. A pleasure."
We all shook the cabbie's hand in greeting, and got back to eating. When we were finished, we left a generous tip for the nice couple, and then got back into the cab which drove us to our destination.
"This is where you're staying?" our driver asked as he pulled up in front of the house. Well, house was probably an understatement. It was big, and in a historic section of New Orleans. A lot of other old mansions sat in the area.
The movers and shakers of the city as well as within Louisiana and the south of the U.S. as a whole lived here. I'd done my research as best as I could on the Flamel's summer home, but without the internet is was hard to do. What I could acquire from libraries and schmoozing with the rich back in England told me that the Flamel's had been neighbors with senators, governors, and other powerful men and women.
"Yup," I nodded. "My grandparents left it to me after they passed away last year."
That was the excuse, at least. Claiming the Flamels Muggle identities here in the States to be my grandparents was the easiest way to get around this. Of course, this lie wouldn't hold up to close scrutiny, but it served for now.
"Well, damn," the cabbie grunted. "Had no idea you were a big shot."
"I'll be honest, this is a fairly recent change for me as well," I admitted. After all, it wasn't until a couple years ago I starting making money hand over fist.
"Eh, mine's bigger," Sirius drawled, and Harry and I both rolled our eyes at him. Though from the smirk I knew he was playing around. I think.
We got our luggage out of the cab and paid the man well. He also gave us his phone number in case we needed to be driven around again, which was a smart gesture.
"Let's see if the key I was given works," I hummed, stepping up to the front gate. I pulled out the small iron key I'd been given by Mr. Winkle, and it fit the lock perfectly.
"By the way, can you detect anything… unusual?" I asked Sirius under my breath as the gates opened without so much as a squeak of rusty hinges.
"There are old and powerful wards here," Sirius confirmed, eyes darting around warily. He hadn't drawn his wand, but being a Black, he had more than few tricks to detecting magic that didn't rely on it.
The key opened the front door as well, and let us into a fine-looking foyer. It had a grand staircase that led up to the second floor, and a big golden chandelier overhead.
"Welcome to the Ruby Manor, my new master," a young European woman dressed like a secretary said in greeting, bowing her head politely to the three of us. She wore horn-rimmed glasses and had her blonde hair done up in a bun. She stood in the middle of foyer to welcome us.
"New master?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yes. Mister and Missus Flamel told me that I and the rest of the staff here were to serve you loyally," she stated. "I am Carlotta, head of staff here."
"Who else works here?" I inquired.
"There is a chef, two maids, and a driver who are all contracted to serve you."
"Um, so, I had no idea any of you were here," I said nervously. "How much do I owe you wage-wise?"
"We will show you the employee contracts later. But do not worry. The Flamels took care of everything for the next ten years. They weren't sure when you'd be able to come out here, and made plans for it."
"That's a relief," I muttered.
The secretary nodded, and a moment later two women entered from a side entrance, dressed in French maid outfits which was kinda amusing, considering who'd once owned this place. Both were Asian, with one having black hair, the other's being snow white. but they had distinctly inhuman features on them.
The black-haired maid had fox ears and tail along with a cheeky grin, while the white-haired maid exuded an aura of wintery chill despite the summer heat.
"A Kitsune?" I gasped.
"I'm actually a Kumiho," the maid said with a pout.
"I'm sorry," I quickly apologized, before glancing at her companion. "The hair, though, and sensation of cold… that must make you a Yuki-Onna?"
"That's correct," the second maid with a nod. She then shot the maid a smirk. "It seems like I won that bet, Song. He was able to tell who I was, but not you."
"Ugh! So not fair, Aoi!" the Kumiho maid named Song grumbled.
"Ladies," Carlotta said in a disapproving tone, and the two quickly straightened up before taking the luggage from myself and my two companions.
"No House Elves?" Sirius wondered as the maids took their luggage away to their rooms, his eyes lingering on their backsides as they walked off. Song didn't seem to mind, if the way her hips swayed were any indicator.
"The Flamels were Squibs. They lacked the magical power to sustain House Elves," Carlotta stated. "Additionally, even if they could have, they were not fans of what they saw as enslavement of another thinking being."
"Makes sense," Harry said with a nod, which I mirrored.
"Do you wish for a tour of the house?" Carlotta inquired, and we all nodded eagerly. "In that case, welcome to the Ruby Manor."
"As you can no doubt tell, the Ruby Manor was built in the French Colonial Style," Carlotta informed us as she led us through the hallways. "It was constructed with few magical wards and systems at first, but they were slowly added by the Flamels as time passed and they found new things to be improve upon."
Carlotta paused in front of a window that overlooked an impressive garden. "For instance, the Flamels created dozens of wards that form a magical greenhouse of sorts, allowing plants from any part of the world to grow without issue. And, of course, there are the hurricane proofing measures that prevent damage from wind or water to any part of the house or grounds."
I nodded happily at that while Harry muttered about how envious Neville would be when he heard about the gardens here.
Carlotta showed us around the first floor, which was quite lovely. Everything was a mix of white and bright colors. The rooms ranged from sunrooms, parlors for tea, and a fully stocked bar that had Sirius drooling. There were two dining rooms: one for expensive parties and one for smaller private gatherings. The Ruby Manor had a ballroom with a grand piano, harp, and all sorts of other musical instruments.
There was so much to see, and Carlotta was only showing them the parts of the house that were She kept the places that were used by the staff such as the kitchen, washing rooms for laundry, and the like off the tour.
"And this door here leads to the basement," Carlotta revealed, leading us to a door with carvings of bowling balls and pins on it. "There are three other doors that lead downstairs, and the basement itself is divided into two sections. A storage area, which I will show you later if you wish."
She opened the door, causing lights to flicker on, revealing a short staircase. Descending it, we came into a cool, well-lit area.
"As you can see, this part of the basement was modified into an entertainment parlor," Carlotta explained as she showed them around. "There is a bowling alley, an arcade room, and a movie theatre, fully stocked with hundreds of shows and films from all over the world."
"Whoa," I uttered in awe, staring at the area. Harry and Sirius were impressed as well, though because they didn't have the same background I did, it was not as interesting as what we'd seen on the first floor.
The basement was split into three parts, with the bowling alley to the right of the stairs, the arcade room to the left, and the movie theatre directly ahead. Each of the entertainment rooms were massive, and could fit dozens of people each.
The bowling alley had seven lanes, as well as a few tables and booths set up near a snack bar that reminded me of a Fifties era Malt Shop, complete with kitschy color scheme and old-fashioned cola adverts.
I had no idea how many game consoles were crammed inside the arcade room, but there were dozens of them, with all sorts of different kinds, ranging from racing games to shooters to fighters. I felt strong pangs of nostalgia as I looked around, recognizing many of the games from my childhood in the last world. I felt the urge to go over and run a hand over the controls.
"Is that an original Pacman?" I inquired, recognizing the boxy console in one corner.
"Indeed," Carlotta confirmed. "Mr. Flamel became something of a fan when video games were first invented. He made it his mission to buy as many as he could, much to his wife's exasperation."
"What did this place used to be, before bowling alleys and movies were invented?" Harry wondered.
"It changed every few decades depending on what caught their eyes. During the Fossil Wars, the Flamels bought and displayed a variety of fossils and geological oddities. When the Industrial Revolution kicked off, they acquired different kinds of experimental steam-powered devices. And at the turn of the 20th century, Mrs. Flamel collected butterflies and other insects while Mr. Flamel took up painting," Carlotta said, revealing a bit about the immortals and their past.
"I guess if you're gonna live a while, might as well have fun doing it," Sirius said with a nod.
"Do you still have the dinosaur fossils?" I asked eagerly, and the woman nodded.
"They are in storage."
"I think we'll need to go over what you have in there later, but for now, why not take us up to the second floor next?" I suggested.
Carlotta nodded, and we walked up and out of the basement to the next area. The second floor was just as incredible as the rest of the house. Luxurious bedrooms and guestrooms, large bathrooms with gold and marble accents and decorations, a library full of books from across the world, and several empty rooms that could be used for anything.
"And that is the Ruby Manor. Have you enjoyed your tour?" Carlotta inquired, coming to a stop in front of the grand staircase.
"Okay, I gotta say it! This house is way better than Grimauld Place," Sirius declared, a note of envy in his tone.
"Certainly brighter and less… I don't want to say 'cursed,' but that throw pillow in the living room tried to bite me," Harry added in agreement. Sirius winced at that.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that Prongslet, I'm not sure why it did that. Probably evil reasons, knowing my family."
"It's lovely, and you've clearly kept it intact all these years," I praised, deciding to worry about man-eating pillows later. "Give my thanks to the staff for their hard work."
"Of course, sir," Carlotta replied, bobbing her head.
"Can you show us where our rooms are?" I requested next, and she did so, taking us to our spots where we'd be sleeping for the following two weeks.
As the new owner of the Ruby Manor I was sleeping in the master bedroom. It felt awkward being in there. I kept expecting Nicholas or Perenelle to pop up and scold me for entering their personal quarters.
Harry and Sirius got fancy guest rooms. They were quite large and had queen-sized four-poster beds. Numerous magical charms and enchantments filled the rooms and the furniture as well, giving it a very fantasy-esque vibe.
"Is there anything else you require?" Carlotta asked after she'd shown us to the bedrooms.
"We were interested in doing some exploring of New Orleans today. Where is the entrance to the magical side of the city?" I inquired.
"I will bring you a map," Carlotta replied. "Do you wish to use the chauffer, or do you want to explore on your own?"
"On our own for today, and we'll see about what we want to do later," I replied after thinking it over.
Carlotta nodded in understanding before walking off, leaving us alone for the moment.
"Okay, gang," I said, turning to Harry and Sirius. "Plans for this afternoon! A quick jaunt down to the magical quarter, then some time in the mundane city, finally dinner somewhere. Sound good?"
"Fine by me," Sirius agreed, and Harry bobbed his head in agreement.
"Any place in particular you're hoping to see?" I asked curiously.
"I've heard good things about American brooms," Harry said. "Kinda want to see what they have."
"Did you know that they have treatments for werewolves here?" Sirius asked. "The Native American shamans apparently have some really effective methods for controlling Lycanthropy that's as good, if not better, than Wolfsbane Potions."
"Ah, looking to find something to help Remus?" I guessed, and Sirius nodded.
"Yup. Moonie deserves it after everything he's gone through. And I know he's been really anxious about transforming and losing control now that he has a lady lover. Maybe if he has a new method to handle his inner beast he'll calm down and finally stop having such a pity party and cheer up."
"If you find anything like that, let me know. He deserves a reward for helping me with my security," I requested, and Sirius gave a hum in agreement. The lord of House Black still didn't trust me fully, but I was willing to work to recover it.
"What are you interested in seeing, Ed?" Harry wondered.
"Magic-wise? All of it. Though specifically, I've heard some crazy things about Voodoo and I wanna know if it's something Squibs can get in on," I replied. "On the mundane side, I've always wanted to explore New Orleans. It's a vibrant city. And then I want to see what else the U.S. has in store for us to see."
We weren't planning on staying in New Orleans the whole time. We had two weeks – technically only twelve days as traveling back to England would take a while – and some of those days I wanted to spend elsewhere in the country. I wanted to visit one of the largest magical communities in the Americas, and also check out Disney World in Florida.
We could always fly to our destinations on airplanes, but part of the reason why I wanted to investigate the magical district was to see if they had any ways for magical tourists to travel around the country, like with Portkeys or the Floo.
After Carlotta brought us a map of the city, the three of us ventured out to explore and see the sights.
It turned out that New Orleans did not have one single magical district, but rather had five, all of which were scattered about the city. Looking at them, you could basically track the history of the city itself, as each district was in different places based on how the city had expanded.
The largest and oldest magical site was in the old part of town, where the original French colonists had set up shop. It was uninspiringly called the French Quarter, or just the Quarter, and was considered a historic place, with many museums and old buildings preserved exactly as they had been way back when. It was also where the famous Bourbon Street was located.
The Quarter was the perfect place for magical stuff to be hidden. Large amounts of foot traffic, historical sites that couldn't be moved or altered, and a sense of flamboyant revelry that could obscure any magical incidents or accidents. According to the notes Carlotta had scribbled into the margins of the map, the magical section of the French Quarter was known as Dragon Street.
The second largest magical district was also the newest, and it had been built in the nineteen fifties in the eastern part of New Orleans to accommodate the influx of Muggleborn. It was the cheapest and was where the most modern changes could be found.
Our plan was to check out the districts from oldest to youngest, getting a good grasp of how magical society had changed in the United States compared to magical Britain.
This tour of the city would take two days, assuming we managed to keep the schedule. I wasn't going to hold my breath, though.
Walking around, there was a liveliness to the streets of New Orleans that had Harry and Sirius looking around at everything with a sense of wonder. It was quite amazing for myself as well. Being in the city I'd always wanted to visit was like a dream come true!
"According to Miss Carlotta's map, this is the entrance to Dragon Street," I said after a bit, looking up at the building we'd stopped in front of. It was called Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, and was one of the oldest buildings in the city. It was a tourist spot on the corner of Bourbon Street and was also known as one of the most haunted buildings in New Orleans.
And it seemed the rumors were true, as I could see a handful of ghosts, most dressed like they were from the 18th century, floating around inside through the open door.
'Hiding in plain sight, huh?' I mused. That was one way to do things. Harry and Sirius didn't look very impressed though. Considering they'd been to Hogwarts, a place with more than a hundred ghosts, the Blacksmith Shop was rather lacking, spirit-wise.
"Well, let's go in," Harry said, and we walked into the building. He waved at one of the ghosts, who waved back.
"Hello! Magical tourists, eh?" the ghost inquired with a thick French accent. "The entrance to the street is back that-a-way."
He gestured towards a door that the non-magical folk didn't notice, and we nodded in thanks before heading in.
"Well, I'll say this, Dragon Street is a lot brighter and livelier than Diagon Alley," Sirius commented as he looked around at the place we'd come out onto.
I nodded in agreement. The walls of the buildings in Dragon Street were white-washed and kept pristine with magic, while colorful roofs and canopies added some variety. Dozens of buildings lined the straight and narrow street, mirroring the layout of Bourbon Street to an extent.
Then there were the people. They were walking around wearing a mix of wizarding robes and Muggle fashion. There were women in jeans wearing wide-brimmed witch's hat, and men who wore sneakers and shorts underneath their robes. It was quite the sight.
But it was the magic that was openly on display that was the most eye-catching. Magic carpet taxis flew passengers to and fro up and down the street, while enchanted, multi-colored torches lined the road in place of streetlights. Potion vendors hawked their wares from carts, selling hangover cures to any who needed them. And every so often, flashes of magic would pop up as street performers combined spells with their acts.
"Is that a broom store?!" Harry asked excitedly, rushing over to stare at the items on display in the window.
The store did indeed sell brooms. It also sold magic carpets and other flying devices. There was even an enchanted vacuum cleaner that could be ridden!
"Can't believe they're selling magic carpets openly like this," Sirius muttered, eyeing the enchanted woven mats. "Wonder how much they cost?"
"Dunno, let's go in and find out," I suggested, and we entered the store to browse.
It turned out that magic carpets were somewhat expensive. A basic one with only levitation enchantments and an ability to fly less than ten miles per hour was a thousand dollars. The safer and faster magic carpets were upwards of ten thousand dollars, almost the cost of a car!
Brooms weren't as expensive, costing about as much a bicycle, so a few hundred dollars depending on the model, but they did have a lot of regulations and it required a prospective flyer to take a two-week course on flight safety.
Technically, the lessons weren't mandatory, but it did seem like the American government was leaning towards classifying any sort of magical flying tool as a powered vehicle, which meant if you wanted to ride a broom or carpet, you'd need something like a driver's license to do so legally.
Neither Harry nor Sirius were thrilled at hearing that from the shopkeeper. In England, if you wanted to fly on a broom, you could. Didn't matter the age, so long as you went undetected.
That wasn't the only difference in the American flying scene. The national Quidditch league was revamping its rule sets slightly to make games shorter and less hazardous, but they were also opening up more slots. In the past, there'd only been a handful of professional American teams. Now, they were trying to make it more like the mundane sporting groups with Quidditch team counterparts in all of the major cities.
Most of these changes were approved by the two avid fans of flight. The more Quidditch teams, the better!
Eventually, though, I had to step in as Harry and Sirius didn't look like they'd be finished anytime soon.
"Alright, you two, come on, let's wrap it up," I urged. "We have other sights to see today!"
"Aww, come on, Eddy! There's still plenty of time to look around!" Sirius whined.
"You might be a dog, Sirius, but you can't pull off puppy dog eyes," I drawled, and he tsked in disappointment.
"Excuse me, miss," I began, turning to the witch behind the store's counter. "But do you know if there are tours of the magical districts?"
"There's a couple. If you want to visit the other magical districts on your own time, though, you can rent one of those carriages to get around," the witch said, pointing out the window as one passed by on the street. "It's got an illusion on it that makes it seem like a horse is pulling it, so the regular folk don't notice anything amiss. The carriages can go pretty much anywhere in the city as well. Well, anywhere that carriages can go, that is. Some places in New Orleans don't allow for 'em."
"I see, that'll help us keep to the schedule," I mused thoughtfully. Sirius rolled his eyes at that.
"You and your schedule," he mocked. "Come on, live and little!"
"Some people like having a list to follow," I replied with a haughty sniff.
"Well, I don't want to disrespect the list. Hermione would have my head," Harry joked, and I grinned at him.
"That's the spirit, Harry!" I chuckled. "Come on, let's go see how much it costs to rent a carriage."
Chapter 61: Chapter 60: In Vino Veritas
Chapter Text
Chapter 61: In Vino Veritas
Despite Harry and Sirius taking up a lot more time than I'd expected in the broom store, we still managed to see two of the other magical districts according to the schedule. That just left the remaining two for another day.
The other streets had been less impressive than Dragon Street. Less interestingly named, too. Wand Street and Star Street, respectively. Wand Street had been where they sold a lot of magical items, mostly basic things ranging from enchanted trunks to dinner plates that'd been given the Repairing enchantment so they immediately fixed themselves if they broke.
It had also had a large antique shop filled with all sorts of junk, both magical and mundane. I'd found a lamp made from a bowling pin that had been enchanted to fall over whenever you dropped something, and a Polaroid camera that, when it took pictures, removed a person's make-up.
As for Star Street, that was where the offices for the city's magical government were located. It also had the offices for large magical businesses. The local branch of Witch Weeklywas located on Star Street, alongside a few others I recognized. Including a branch of the Greengrass' trading business.
We'd explored the area thoroughly, and even gone walking around the non-magical side of things. We'd eaten beignets for snacks and endured the heat and humidity with the help of Cooling charms. It was a lot of fun!
As we returned to the Ruby Manor for the evening by riding a magical carriage, I was silently thinking about what I knew about Magical America. Learning about it hadn't been easy, but I'd found out enough to get a good grasp of the situation.
The Magical side of the U.S. was vastly different to what it used to be. The Fantastical Beasts series had depicted magical America (known as MaCUSA, or Magical Confederation of the United States of America) pre-World War 2 as a place even more restrictive and repressive than Magical England. You couldn't even marry a Muggle, and Magical children born of Muggles were basically kidnapped from their families and raised completely isolated in the magical world!
It was all true. That was how it used to be. And it was this last thing that led to a revolution of sorts.
See, it all happened when, after World War 2, a lot of veterans of the European Front came back home and married their sweethearts and produced the infamous Baby Boomer generation.
And boy did these veterans make babies. Lots of babies. And while the magical community still argues a lot about the cause of magical children born to muggle couples – either due to magical contamination in one or both partners, or being descended from a Squib, or even just random chance – the data showed that more magical children were born after World War 2 in the U.S. than at any other time in recorded history.
Literally thousands of them, and what did the MaCUSA do? Well, they did as they always did; kidnap the babies as soon as they showed magical talent, and Obliviated the families. Of course, the magical government was unprepared to find homes for the sheer number of babies being made, and they were quickly overwhelmed, forced to bind the magic of many children simply to keep up. In the end, most ended up in hastily established magical orphanages.
Now, a lot of these veterans whose children had been stolen had also experienced at least one magical wound during their stint overseas. The Knights of Walpurgis and the lesser known (but still incredibly evil) Thule Society had used magic in a lot of different ways to try and aide the Nazis in securing victory. While most of the magical battlefields were separate from the mundane ones, there was still plenty of cross-contamination, and the GIs came home saturated with all sorts of magic, from the residue of curses, to memory loss from Obliviators, to the dregs of shattered wards.
And some of these men? Well, their time in Europe had given them a sort of pseudo-magical resistance, due to all the magic they'd encountered. And it resulted in their Obliviations wearing off. And boy, were they pissed when they realized that their children had been stolen from them. Throughout the fifties and sixties, these men hunted down every scrap of information on the magical world they could find. They learned about each other, and formed groups. In the shadows, they spread as they learned that they couldn't trust their government. Not when the magicals could just Obliviate left and right. Or worse.
Yet despite the best efforts of the magical world, these angry fathers found out everything. Some Squibs squealed when hunted down, and a few sympathetic witches and wizards helped as well. The veil was falling.
And then, some of the 'orphans' – many of whom were now in their teens or older – discovered they had actual families, and they secretly met up with their long-lost parents and siblings. More and more, the magical world lost its hold on those it had wronged.
In the late sixties and early seventies, a revolution was planned. The children who'd been kidnapped were not happy at all at their treatment. Most of them had lived in orphanages because of the incompetence and bigotry of the MaCUSA and were generally treated poorly due to their Muggleborn status. This anger boiled over, and they made plans with each other and their families, who also wanted vengeance.
And then, in 1974, on Christmas Day, these young, angry rebels assaulted the MaCUSA government building, holding it hostage. It had been surprisingly easy, from what I read. Many of the 'orphans' had graduated from magical schooling by that point, and had joined the Confederation in any way possible. Janitors, interns, whatever job they could get, they took. Some of the older ones even became secretaries and aides, worming their way deep into the corrupt government. For years they did this, watching and learning, and when they struck, they did so swiftly and violently.
The old MaCUSA crumbled in a day. The Governor of the MaCUSA along with a majority of the Council (MaCUSA's version of the Wizengamot) was arrested, the aurors who didn't join in on the revolt were detained, and anyone who had participated in the kidnappings was captured as well. By New Year's Day of 1975, a whole new government had been installed, one that was made up of the young rebels and the few older sympathetic witches and wizards who'd helped them.
Naturally, this stunned magical communities the world over. Ever since the Statute of Secrecy, most of the member states of the International Confederation of Wizardry had been run by Purebloods, or at the very least, witches and wizards who were aligned with a conservative ideology. Not to mention, none of the magical nations had really changed. They were the same now as they had been centuries ago.
Now, the new MaCUSA had overturned that by being almost entirely run by Muggleborns. Then, they went even further by trying and sentencing the old government's members. Ninety percent of upper and middle-ranked officials were found guilty of crimes against humanity, and stripped of their magic, had their wands snapped, or were exiled. A few were even outright executed!
This resulted in the current MaCUSA being quite liberal compared to the rest of the magical world, and extremely different compared to the other magical nations of the world. For example, the MaCUSA realized how damaging it was to have two different monetary systems, and did the unthinkable; they threw out the Goblin run banks and forced the magical side to accept dollars and cents from the Muggle world.
The Goblins had of course threatened to go to war over this, but American magicals had basically replied, 'Oh, yeah? Then come and get some.' This stunned the Goblins, and they had actually backed off. As warlike as they may have been, the Goblins hadn't actually had a war with humanity since a century before the Statue of Secrecy, and were apparently greatly diminished to the point another war would have likely seen their extinction. Even four hundred years after their last war and they still hadn't recovered to the point they could risk fighting the breakaway nations of magical North America.
This wasn't the only change. Magical beings like Veela, dwarves, leprechauns, werewolves, hags and others who the Old World magicals considered Sub-Humans and mere beasts, were welcomed and given full rights in the new MaCUSA. Werewolves for instance were cared for and seen as people with a medical condition, not monsters, and apparently the Native American shamans (a bunch of tribes had survived the Muggle purges and violence by hiding in the magical world) knew of several ways to treat Lycanthropy. Couldn't cure it, sadly, but there were ways to tame the beast that didn't need expensive potions.
By all accounts, the current MaCUSA was my kind of place. Here, the old families had little to no power, and the bigotry of the old regime was a thing of the past. Two decades later, things were still quite young and in the Honeymoon phase, but I had a lot of hopes that there was a way this kind of thinking would lead the way forward for the rest of the world. Or, at the very least, outlast the stagnation that was killing the rest of the magical world.
'However, just because I like the place doesn't mean I know enough to take advantage of it,' I thought to myself. 'And there are probably a lot of rules and restrictions I can't work around, unlike back in England.'
When the Newbloods, as the MaCUSA's revolutionary government called itself, had taken over, they had tightened some restrictions on magic use but loosened them in other areas. Loopholes in the law were closed that allowed Purebloods certain privileges, but there were still a few that probably existed.
This meant that doing business with the MaCUSA was probably going to be difficult for me. They would likely notice if I was doing anything with magic, like what I was doing with my potions and alchemical recycling.
'I'll have to keep my business here in the States purely mundane,' I decided after thinking it over. 'That would be safer.'
"Hey, Ed, you okay?" Harry asked, watching me in worry, and I glanced over at him.
"Yeah, you've got a heavy look on your face," Sirius added.
"Just thinking heavy thoughts," I replied with a weak chuckle.
"Well, stop that. We're on vacation, aren't we? Let's live it up a little!" Sirius exclaimed, reaching over and slapping me on the back.
"Oof," I grunted, wincing a little at the slap, but I grinned a bit as well. "Alright, I'll try."
"Great! Now, when we get home, we're gonna eat some dinner, and then you and me are gonna go out on the town!" Sirius told me, and I blinked in surprise.
"We're what?"
"This is New Orleans, isn't it? Remus and I looked up about the place. Those Muggle brochures said the city has a lot of fancy bars, right? So that's what we're gonna do!"
"What about Harry?" I asked.
"He'll be fine. The maids can look after him," Sirius waved off my concern.
I glanced at Harry, and he looked back, nodding. "Yeah, it's okay, Ed. You two need to do some things together. Besides, I have some summer homework to finish so I can do that tonight. Don't worry."
"Alright, then," I nodded, turning to Sirius. "You wanna hit up the Muggle side of things, or see what wizards in New Orleans drink?"
"Let's head back to Dragon Street for tonight," Sirius decided. "If we're going to get wasted, I want to do so in a place where nobody will care if I end up drunk-casting."
"Fair enough," I replied with a shrug.
A few minutes later we arrived at the Ruby Manor, and found Carlotta waiting for us at the gate.
"Welcome back. We have prepared dinner," she informed us as we exited the carriage.
"Thank you, that's very kind," I said.
"Of course, it is our job," Carlotta stated simply, leading us into the mansion.
"You're welcome to eat with us," I said. "The offer is extended to the rest of the household as well."
"Perhaps another night," she said, declining the offer. "What are your plans for after dinner?"
"Sirius and I will be returning to Dragon Street for a bit of drinking," I said. "Can you watch over Harry, make sure he does his homework properly?"
I saw Harry roll his eyes at me out of the corner of the vision, and Carlotta smirked and nodded.
"Of course. We'll take care of it. Now, please wash up before heading into the secondary dining room."
We did as she instructed, and after cleaning our hands, went to the smaller, more private dining room.
There, we were served many plates of delicious looking food, as well as meeting the chef who worked for the Ruby Manor. He was a portly, middle-aged African-American man, and a native of New Orleans.
"My family has served the Flamels for centuries," he cheerfully explained as he laid out the food with a wave of his wand. "In fact, my ancestor was a slave they freed and hired to work within this manor after it was built."
"That's incredible," I said, impressed, and he smiled proudly.
"Thank you. My brother is the Chauffeur, so if you need him to take you anywhere tomorrow, let him know. It's his job, after all," the chef chuckled.
"This food looks amazing," Harry said as he looked at what was being served. There were British dishes mixed in with rest of the food, and we began to help ourselves.
"I made some familiar food for you tonight, but I added some local specialties as well," the chef said. "Eating too many foreign foods when you're not used to them can cause your stomach to have issues."
"Smart," Sirius hummed as he served himself some Beef Wellington. "So, how long has your family had magic?"
"A few generations, now," the chef replied. "One of my great-great-grandparents married a Squib, and the magic manifest down the line in his offspring. It's stayed with us ever since. But, uh, maybe don't ask that question to every mage you meet. Some might find it offensive."
"Thank you for the warning. I take it you studied at Ilvermony, then?" I asked, and the chef nodded.
"Of course. You'd be hard pressed to find somebody around here who didn't."
I was interested in hearing more about the premiere magical school of North America, but right now, my rumbling tummy convinced me it was time to chow down.
"Thank you for the food," I said as I tucked in.
"It's my job," he chuckled. "But the thanks are still welcome. And call me Jumbo."
"That's not your real name, is it?" Harry asked, squinting suspiciously, and Jumbo laughed.
"Nah, but it's what everyone calls me."
After dinner, which had been delicious and not too heavy, Sirius and I left the house, and caught a cab to Bourbon Street. Then, we slipped into Dragon Street using the ghost-filled blacksmithy.
Once there, Sirius led us to one of the nearest bars. The Black had an uncanny ability to know where the best drinking holes were located. Not too shabby, but still cheap with a decent selection. No idea how he did it, but he'd shown off this ability back in London and it never failed to impress.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked us as we slid into stools at the bar.
"Surprise me!" Sirius requested.
"Same," I requested. "But make it fruity."
"Gotcha," the bartender nodded, waving his wand and summoning the ingredients for our cocktails. He mixed our drinks right in front of us, and when he was done, our glasses floated over to us.
Sirius' drink was a bright red with tiny sparks shooting out of it. Mine was a sparkly green, like somebody had melted an emerald, and then added slices of pineapple and a few cherries.
"To the scruffy gentleman, a Dragon Street special, a Melusine Cocktail. Fire Whiskey, dragonfruit essence, and a few drops of Whirligig poison for that tingle," the bartender said. "And for the young gentleman, a Happy Fairy, which is magically infused absinthe, ice water, and sliced cherries and pineapples. Enjoy!"
We took our drinks and sipped at them, tasting them. Mine was pretty good. I'd had absinthe before, but this was a lot sharper, with a stronger flavor. Likely due to the magic used to ferment it. The fruit added a nice sweetness that was refreshing.
"Ah, that hits the spot!" Sirius exclaims with a pleased expression as he put he emptied glass down. He was floating an inch off of his seat thanks to his drink, while I soon noticed my skin had turned green.
After that, we began to drink, eventually moving from the bar to a table a little ways off. We still got our drinks, of course, the glasses floating out to us whenever we needed a new one, but we also got a bit of privacy.
By the time we were each on our fourth drink, the mood between us had gotten… I wouldn't say festive but my drinking partner was definitely a lot more cheerful.
"Sirius? Can I ask you something?" I inquired after a while.
"Eh? Sure, what do you want?" Sirius asked, looking up from his current drink, some kind of fancy Margarita. I took a drink from my own Margarita to fortify my nerves, before finally giving him my question.
"Am I a good person?" All of the drinking I'd been doing tonight had loosened my tongue. I'd have never asked such a question any other time.
"Jeez, hit me with the hard balls," Sirius muttered. "And here I was, having a good time."
"Sorry," I apologized, quickly downing the rest of my drink.
"No, no, it's fine, I guess," Sirius sighed. "Look, Edward… I don't really trust you. Not after everything that's happened. But I do know you're not that bad a bad person. You're trying your best, I suppose. Living as best as you can with the shitty hand life dealt you, so I admire you for that."
He then groaned. "Ugh, not drunk enough for this touchy-feely shite, kid. Are you worried that you're a bad person for killing? Merlin's saggy balls, not at all. I've killed, Ed. In the war… I did things. I used my family's knowledge to hurt other people. Sure, they deserved it. Never used anything against anybody who wasn't wearing the mask and robes of a Death Eater. But still. Ever seen a man turn inside out? Or cause them to implode? Nah, death is nothing to be ashamed of. Not when you're protecting somebody."
"What Remus and I hate is all the secrets. We especially don't like how many of 'em are about Harry," Sirius continued, growling a little. "Harry… he's all we have left of James."
"Harry isn't James," I said softly. "That isn't fair to him. To either of them."
"You think I don't know that?!" Sirius snapped, glaring at me. "I know that! I do! But ten years in Azkaban has broken me. I can't… it's all I can do some days to wake up and get out of bed. To laugh. To live. And I cling to James' memory and Harry because that's all that's keeping me from slipping down into a fucking hole that leads nowhere good."
I said nothing to that. How could I? Sirius was right. He was broken. And recovering from his ordeals would be a lifetime of work.
"How can I regain what was lost, then, between us?" I asked instead, almost pleading with him. "I don't want… you and Remus are some of my only friends, as much as it hurts to admit it. Aside from Sam, I have no other guys I know or trust like you two."
"You want to get back into my good graces?" Sirius demanded. "No more lies. No more half-truths or evasive answers. You work with us fully and tell us everything. You help us protect Harry to the full extent you can! And you help us put that snake-faced bastard sixty feet under! That is how you might – just might! – get us to trust you again."
"I've been keeping secrets for so long, Sirius," I replied weakly. "I don't know if I can be as open as you want me to be. But I'll try. For Harry."
"For Harry," Sirius nodded solemnly, before knocking back the rest of his drink in a single gulp. "Damn, you've gone and brought the mood down."
"Then let's go somewhere else with a more festive atmosphere," I suggested.
"Yeah, sure, why not?" Sirius agreed, and I paid for our drinks, wincing a little at how much I'd just spent. How could eight drinks possibly cost over three hundred dollars?!
'Thank God and Merlin I'm a millionaire,' I thought to myself, suppressing a sigh as I walked out after Sirius.
Following him, we soon found our way to another bar, this one with bright lights and loud laughter spilling out into the darkening street.
"Sounds like a party!" Sirius declared with a grin, striding inside with the confidence of a man who knew he was soon to be the life of said party.
I shrugged and followed him into the bar. Another drink or two probably wouldn't hurt. 'And I have to make sure Sirius doesn't do anything stupid while drunk,' I thought to myself. I had a feeling it wouldn't be as easy as I hoped it would be, though.
111 &&& 111
Chapter 62: Chapter 62: The City in the Stone
Chapter Text
Chapter 62: The City in the Stone
"Whoa," Harry said, looking up at the four monolithic faces in awe.
"Whoa indeed, Harry," I muttered, feeling a flutter of melancholy as I looked up at Mount Rushmore. Memories of decades old summer vacations darting through my mind, recalled with perfect clarity thanks to my Occlumency.
I recalled the long car drive along vast stretches of empty land, and the sweltering heat that beat down on our heads every step of the way. The greasy drive-throughs we ate at along the way. The motels, which often had no hot water and itchy sheets.
But above all, I remembered how much fun I had, spending time with my first family. And how I hadn't spent nearly enough with them.
I shook my head, clearing those thoughts away. Now was not the time to reminisce.
"Hard to believe they managed to carve all of this without magic," Harry commented, looking over the mountainside.
He then glanced over to the left, where a section of the mountain had been hidden from view using magic.
The Black Hills had been sacred to the Lakota Sioux tribe of Native Americans, and having some presidents' heads carved into them had been… politically charged. Potentially blasphemous, even!
But it also turned out that long before Mount Rushmore was built, the Native American tribes in the area had done their own carving. Shamans had used magic to create many incredible stone pieces of art work along the sides of the hills and mountain that had faint mystical properties that lingered to this day. Not that the non-magical folk had been able to see or remember them after the Statute of Secrecy was established.
Thankfully, magic had been able to redirect the mundane carvers and architects when they'd begun their own project in the 1920's, so the ancient and sacred carvings had survived, but it was a bit odd to see the two side by side.
"Ah, yes, a stunning juxtaposition of modern and mythological," Sirius Black mused to himself as he looked up at the mountainous monuments while stroking his chin.
"You don't have to keep sounding smart, Sirius," I said with a snort. "The girls already left."
The shaggy animagus looked around and slumped a bit after confirming that yes, the cute college girls who'd been hanging around earlier had walked away already. "Dang, and here I was thinking I was making an impression by seeming so sophisticated."
"Maybe somebody will fall for it next time," Harry said, patting his godfather on the arm.
"Ouch, that stings, Prongslet," Sirius said with a flinch, holding a hand over his heart.
I chuckled a bit at their interactions. It had been five days since Sirius and I had had our little talk over drinks, and while he was still stand-offish, he was not as hostile anymore. That was a relief, and I knew I could possibly improve things further if I kept playing ball and being honest with him.
After watching the two joke around a bit more, I pulled out a tourist map. "So, the entrance isn't that far from here," I said aloud, gaining their attention. "We just go down this path on the right and take the one marked with a few carved boulders."
"Easy enough," Sirius nodded. "Come on, let's go!"
He and Harry walked off to find the path, and I followed along behind. Today, we weren't just out here to look at a mountain, as majestic as it was. We were here to visit the largest settlement of magical Native Americans in North America.
When the European settlers had begun to appear, and foreign sickness ravaged the population, several wisemen, medicine men, and shamans had gathered and worked together to create a handful of magically formed refuges to hide and protect their people. They weren't very big at first, but they grew as more and more tribes were pushed further west by expansion.
And one of these secret magical refuges was located within Mount Rushmore itself, kept hidden from regular people by magic.
We found the trail easily. Magic kept people who weren't magical away, obviously, so while others got turned away, we were able to locate the trio of boulders that had Native American designs painted onto them.
"Water, anyone?" I asked as I wiped some sweat off of my brow.
"Please," Sirius requested and I fished a bottle of water out of the backpack I was wearing.
My backpack had been bought in Star Street in New Orleans, and it had been an excellent purchase. It had an expanded space within it, letting me store a suitcase's worth of stuff in it without worry.
Thanks to it's effectiveness, the three of us had been able to travel around the country without issue. I could carry all the water we needed, and we needed a lot. Summertime in the U.S. was much hotter than back in Jolly Ol' England. Especially when we were in the Mid-West.
I passed one over to Harry too, and we all took a quick moment to cool off before continuing on towards the aptly named Stonewall City.
To get inside, we had to walk up a steep path that led straight up to the cliff face. After that, it was a simple matter of entering through a cave that had ancient neo-lithic cave paintings still perfectly preserved on the walls. It was pretty neat, and with some magical lighting illuminating our path, we made it into the city within the mountain.
Hundreds of short and squat stone houses, none rising higher than three stories, filled the enormous cavern that stretched far beyond what the mountain should have normally been able to contain.
Over the years, the settlement had expanded from containing a handful of huts to full-fledged buildings. Currently, there were over six thousand people who lived here, and in the last few decades had become something of a tourist attraction.
What was really impressive was how the cavern's ceiling was charmed to reflect the sky above, just like the Great Hall of Hogwarts. This way, it didn't seem like the people were living underground at all.
There was a lot to see, so we got right to it. We walked around, admiring the scenery and the architecture as well showing proper respect for the ancient historical relics on display. Well, Harry and I did all of that. Sirius seemed to be more interested in the young women walking around.
'We need to get the poor man laid,' I thought to myself as I had to drag the dog-man away from bothering some people with his terrible flirting. 'I'll have to talk to Remus and maybe reach out to that cousin of his… Andromeda Tonks, I think her name is. They'll know how to help him. Hopefully.'
Hand on Sirius' shirt, I dragged him over to the store Harry had gone into. To nobody's surprise, it was a broom supply shop.
"That's the latest American sports broom on the market!" Harry said excitedly as he looked at a yellow and white broom locked in a case. "The Thunderbird Excel!"
"Fancy," I said as I released Sirius. He huffed a little at the way I'd manhandled him but didn't saying anything about, clearly realizing how creepy he'd been acting. At least I hope that's what was happening.
"It's faster than the Nimbus 2000, and has a sharper turning radius-!" Harry babbled, and I listened with half an ear to him.
"You know your brooms, kid," the storeowner said, leaning against the counter. He was an older Native American man with a necklace of red feathers around his neck. He was looking at Harry in amusement, impressed by the boy's knowledge of boys.
"Wait… are you… Mason Firecloud?" Harry asked, gasping. "Seeker of the Sweetwater All-Stars?"
"Yeah, that's me," the former Quidditch player nodded. "Surprised you recognized me. It's been a while since I played."
"My friend Ron has a collection of older Quidditch Monthly magazines from the seventies and eighties," Harry explained. "I like to read them. And there were a bunch of articles about you in the 1974 and 75 issues."
"Those were fun seasons," Mason laughed.
"Can I get an autograph?" Harry asked.
"Sure thing, little guy," Mason agreed.
Harry fished around in his bag for something to get signed, and Sirius stepped in to help, buying a half-sized copy of the All-Star's Quidditch jersey to use for it. Mason then signed it with his wand, and Harry eagerly put it away for safety.
After that, there were some other stores we went into. A bookstore which had some texts Harry got for Hermione and the rest of his more literature-minded friends, an apothecary that I browsed for new and interesting ingredients, and as lunch got closer, we visited a store selling magical trinkets and souvenirs.
"There's a lot of turquoise here," Harry noted as we browsed the interior of the gift store. There was all kinds of beautiful jewelry and other items hand-carved from turquoise and other stones on display alongside more kitschy things like magic snow globes, t-shirts with magical drawings that moved across them, and novelty sunglasses.
"It is a common stone in the southwestern United States, especially Arizona and New Mexico, and favored by the tribes who lived down there for its robustness and beauty," the Native American woman selling them said. "While many of the tribes sadly no longer exist, our city is a melting pot of many different tribal traditions and cultures, so it's not unusual to find decorations and artwork in a dozen different styles and materials."
"Do you have any interesting magical items?" I inquired, wondering if Delilah would like a necklace made of turquoise.
"Yes," the saleswoman said eagerly, taking me to a display case with several items contained within on velvet cushions. "Turquoise is an excellent stone for holding enchantments that favor protection and good fortune. It also has some uses in healing, though that mainly extends to the breaking of curses and not directly mending the flesh."
"Fascinating," I hummed. "What does this ring do?"
"It contains an alcohol detoxing charm," she helpfully supplied. "It makes three bottles of beer only as potent as a single one."
"Interesting. Hmm. I like this tie pin," I said, admiring another item in the display case. It was shaped like a lightning bolt, and I considered getting it for Harry.
"It has an enchantment that redirects lightning around the wearer, preventing you from being struck during a storm," she informed me.
"Does it work on spell-forged lightning?" I asked, thinking of the Tempest Jinx as well as the Lightning Curse.
"To an extent," she replied. "It won't block everything, but it will deflect enough that you won't die from it."
"Useful. Very useful," I hummed, thinking to myself, 'I wonder if it can be used to block static shocks or EMPs? I may buy it just to study the enchantment.'
"What about general purpose shields or defenses? Anything that can block a spell?"
"We have a couple rings imbued with Protego," the saleswoman claimed. "You have to flick your wrist like so."
She demonstrated for me, flicking her hand sharply and causing a small shield the size of a dinner plate to pop up in front of her face, and I nodded slowly.
"Do you have anything… stronger, protection wise?" I asked her in a low voice so Harry and Sirius wouldn't overhear.
"Perhaps," she said slowly.
"My companions and I are being targeted by some problematic forces back home in England," I said slowly. "Anything that could help him would be appreciated."
"Wait… are you…" she then looked over at Harry, recognition entering her eyes, and she gasped. "Is he Harry Potter?"
I winced, but nodded, glad the saleswoman hadn't been too loud. "Yes. It's true."
"Did he really slay a Basilisk?" she wondered in awe.
"He did," I confirmed. "Back issues of the Daily Prophet from a week ago should have a photo of its corpse."
"I saw those. I think everyone in the world did! And if they were real… then he definitely needs something to keep him safe," the woman muttered, before walking into the back of the store. She returned a few minutes later with an old wooden box, opening it up to reveal twelve golden rings set with chips of turquoise. From the indentations in the cushions, there had once been twenty rings, before others had been sold.
"These rings were crafted and enchanted by my great-grandfather," she revealed. "They are some of his greatest work. And being a Master Enchanter, even his middling results were extraordinary."
She tapped the lid of the box slowly. "Each ring is imbued with a potent Danger Sense enchantment. If you are in peril for any reason, it will alert you to it. Be it poison in your food, a bullet flying at your head, or a completely ordinary accident, the rings will warn you of it. Whether you can react to it or not is another thing, though."
"That is incredible!" I whispered. Enchanted items for detecting poison or danger were fairly common, but rarely could they be combined into a single object. Furthermore, predicting and warning of accidents and not just people or actions imbued with hostile intent was even harder to make enchantments for.
"That is not all," the saleswoman said, and I looked up at her in disbelief. There was more?!
She smirked at my stunned expression. "One time – and one time only! – the ring can bestow upon the wearer the full effects of a single six-hour dose of Felix Felicis. Of course, the ring will break upon doing so, but six hours of impossibly good luck should be more than enough to escape whatever threatens you."
"That… how much?" I asked.
"One hundred thousand dollars," she replied. "For one ring."
That was a steep price, but for an artifact that powerful? Completely worth it.
'I'll have to dip into my funds I'd been saving for buying into the tech bubble, but it's for a worthy cause,' I decided.
Harry needed every advantage he could get. Now that the prophecy binding him to Voldemort was broken, things would not play out like they had in the original timeline. Who knew what might happen? So, I got out my checkbook.
"Is a check okay?" I asked.
"That's fine," she said, nodding. She seemed somewhat surprised I was buying one, probably assuming the price would have me balking. And maybe I would have a year or two ago. But now? I could afford to splurge everyone once in a while.
And with that, I the transaction was completed and she put the enchanted ring into a velvet-lined box for me to carry which I immediately slipped into a pocket. Harry's Birthday gift was going to blow his socks off!
When I was done with that, I bought a few more items, some magical, others mundane, but all of them significantly cheaper than the first purchase. They would make great souvenirs. For everyone back home.
There was also a pair of magic rings I got for myself and Delilah. They contained a curious enchantment that allowed the wearer to know if they were being observed with malicious intent. It was sort of like a pseudo-Danger Sense, but geared towards detecting people who wanted to harm the ring's wearer. It even worked on animals, too, so if, say, a bear or dragon spotted you and thought you looked like a tasty lunch, then the ring would warn you.
"Do you know of any places to eat?" I asked the woman after Sirius and Harry bought their own souvenirs and trinkets.
"There's a restaurant that sells Mexican food I like," she informed us.
"Real Mexican? Or the 'American' stuff?" I asked suspiciously.
"We only serve good food here in Stonewall City, sir," she sniffed haughtily, though she was hiding a laugh at the same time. "Don't worry, it's authentic. Place is run by a couple of people descended from some Aztec mages. Well, allegedly. Whatever the case, their food is the real deal."
"Wonderful," I said. "It's been a lifetime since I've had authentic tacos!"
She laughed at that, thinking I was joking, but I was deadly serious.
The restaurant was just as good as I'd hoped, the tacos and burritos being truly delectable and made the proper way. And when we were done, we decided to find the person we'd come out here to meet in the first place.
"Excuse me, miss?" I called out, approaching an elderly woman who was knitting a witch's hat while walking past the restaurant.
"Yes, young man?" she asked, not even looking up from her magical knitting needles which were floating in front of her as she walked.
"We're looking for Shaman Starfoot," I said, and the elderly woman glanced between us, eyes lingering on Sirius before nodding.
"I see. Yes, he does indeed live here," she said. "Shaman Starfoot can be found down there, over towards the oldest section of the city. He runs a shop selling magical remedies. Look for the store called New Moon Wares. Can't miss it, it has a giant moon as a sign."
She then patted Sirius' shoulder fondly. "Don't worry, it's not the end of the world. Even if you don't hear what you want to hear, there's still hope."
"Um, okay? Thank you?" Sirius said, confused.
"I think she thought you were a werewolf," I whispered to the animagus as she walked off, and he blinked at me in disbelief.
"What? Why would she think that?" Sirius asked, confused.
"You do look very feral," Harry claimed, a tiny smirk on his face.
"Yeah, if I had to choose between who was a werewolf and who wasn't based purely on physical appearance, it would not be Remus, I can tell you that right now," I chuckled. Sirius frowned at that before smirking.
"Heh, guess that means I'm more of a dog than Moony will ever hope to be!" he laughed.
"We have directions," I said, recovering from the bout of mirth. "Let's go see if he can help Remus."
The store called New Moon Wares wasn't hard to spot. It had a big illusion of a moon floating over the entrance, which seemed to be tied directly to the actual moon itself. I could see craters and shadows as it hovered and slowly rotated. I was impressed.
"Found it," Sirius hummed.
Stepping inside the store, the trio found it to be rather small, with just a counter in the back and a few shelves full of books, potions, and potion ingredients. Sitting behind the counter was an old Native American man, his hair almost completely grey. He had a pipe in his mouth, and was puffing out various shapes made of colored smoke.
"Welcome," he said, his voice strong despite his age.
"Hello, sir," I said politely. "Are you Shaman Starfoot? We heard that you are one of the most knowledgeable people in the world when it comes to Lycanthropy and treatments for it."
"I am he. But none of you are werewolves," the elderly shaman commented, looking over us with a critical eye.
"We have a friend who is affected by the curse," Sirius replied. "As well as a few acquaintances."
"Hmm. Your accents… you are from England, are you not?" Shaman Starfoot inquired, and received three nodding heads.
"That's correct," I said.
"Lycanthropy has no cure," he warned us. "All we can offer is a way to help him connect with his inner wolf and work together with it."
"Ah," I muttered while Sirius winced.
"Remus kinda… I don't think he's the kind of person who'd try to work with his curse," Sirius explained. "He hates it. The idea he could – or should – commune with his, uh, what'd you call it? Inner wolf? Yeah, he'd find the thought abhorrent."
"He would not be the first afflicted soul to feel the same way," Starfoot sighed, taking a puff of his pipe. "There are other ways to suppress the curse. Drugs and rituals undertaken during the new moon to weaken and bind the wolf temporarily. But none are as effective as the Wolf's Bane potion for suppressing it, or the Wolf Speaking ritual to work with it."
"How effective is that ritual?" Harry wondered curiously. "And what does it mean to 'work with' the curse?"
"Those who have found a way to connect with their cursed form are able to be completely in control when they transform," the shaman informed them, and I blinked in shock. That sounded incredible!
"That sounds like Fenrir Greyback," Sirius muttered, eyes narrowed. "He's the most infamous werewolf in Europe and is rumored to be able to control what he does when transformed, even going so far as to speak."
"It is not impossible for other people to discover a similar method to get in touch with their curse," the shaman admitted. "Accepting and embracing the wolf-curse can lead to coexistence. How that happens varies between people. Some, like Fenrir, whose infamy is known even in these lands, revel in the wild nature Lycanthropy can bring. Others treat their inner wolf like a pet to be tamed or a threat to overcome. In the end, as long as it lets them find a degree of peace and control over their life, the method they use doesn't really matter."
"Even if Remus won't go for it right away, if we at least let him know such a thing is possible, he might change his mind someday," I said after thinking the shaman's words over.
"Right, yeah, that might work," Sirius agreed. "Better to have some idea that might work than not have one."
"We should also let Madam Bones know about this method as well," I added, and Sirius gained a smirk that promised 'fun' things for his best friend in the future.
"Yes. Yes, we should," he cackled, rubbing his hands together like a villain.
"If you're interested, here, take some of these," the shaman said, pulling out a few brochures that detailed the different workshops for curse communion methods. "I also sell a few self-help books."
He gestured to the shelf where a bunch of books were stacked. They looked just like any other self-help book out there, except with a magical photograph of a fully transformed werewolf wearing clothing, completely in control as he did chores around a house.
"Do they actually help?" I asked skeptically.
"They do," the shaman promised. "I wrote them myself. They also detail a few methods to perform a couple simple variants of the Wolf Speaking ritual that can be done safely at home."
"I'll take a dozen," I declared. "Do you accept credit cards, or do you prefer cash or check?"
"Cash is preferred, but checks are also fine," the shaman informed me, and I pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills to pay him. Money traded hands and I took the books. I'd give one to Remus, one to Amelia Bones, and the rest would be given to my werewolf employees.
Putting the books into my enchanted backpack, I thanked the man for his help, and he nodded back at me.
"If your friend truly does want help, there are workshops and special nature retreats held all over the country to assist werewolves, many of which I can personally vouch for," Shaman Starfoot added. "But they only work if he wants to find peace and be healed."
"Thank you, we'll keep that in mind," Sirius said.
"I hope this helps Mr. Lupin," Harry said as they left the store.
"It will," I assured him.
"Yeah, we'll make sure of it," Sirius declared. He then looked up at the sky-ceiling. "Hmm, it's mid-afternoon. What should we do next?"
"There's a Thunderbird reserve nearby," I offered. "I bet we could take a tour of it."
"That sounds cool!" Harry said excitedly. "Can we go there?"
"Sure, why not?" Sirius shrugged, though I could tell he looked as excited as his godson at the idea.
"Can't wait to tell everyone about what we've done when I get back!" Harry said as we headed to the exit. "I wish we could have brought Hedwig."
"Not exactly easy to bring an owl across the Atlantic on an airplane," I said. "But I'm sure the Weasleys are taking good care of her."
"Yeah, you're right," Harry said. "But I do miss my friends. Think we could bring them with us the next time we go on vacation?"
"Maybe," I replied. "Have no idea where we'll be going next year. Not yet."
"You won't have much free time when we return, so you won't be catching up with your friends anytime soon. Don't forget, you've got that thing at the Ministry as soon as we get back to London," Sirius reminded Harry, and he sagged a bit.
"Ugh," Harry groaned. "Do I have to?"
"You do, pup," Sirius said with a sympathetic shake of his head. "I know it sucks, but it's important to be seen there. It is a ceremony for you, after all. Plus, you get a fancy medal. Who doesn't want one of those?"
The Boy Who Lived didn't look very enthused, but nodded along all the same. His victory over the Basilisk was a well-known fact in England right now thanks to the Daily Prophet article, and his Order of Merlin, First Class, was to be awarded a couple days after returning from vacation.
The only reason it hadn't been awarded straight away was, once more, due to politics. Certain parties cough Malfoys! cough had tried to block it going through, or at the very least bump it down a class or two. But there was too much outcry against that, and support for Harry was through the roof from pretty much everyone since he'd saved a castle full of children. Malfoy and the Dark leaning faction couldn't fight it forever, only delay it, and so the Light got its victory.
What did this mean for Harry? Well, practically, not much. An Order of Merlin, regardless of class, was one of the highest honors somebody could receive in the magical world. An Order of Merlin came with a minor stipend, a hundred or so Galleons a year, and the First-Class version granted a minor, non-hereditary seat on the Wizengamot.
But since Harry was already granted a seat on the Wizengamot due to his status as Heir and eventual Head of House Potter, as well as being rich due to same, it wasn't more than bragging rights.
"You'll do great, Harry," I told him, ruffling his hair. He grumbled at my show of affection but didn't try to swat my hand away.
I smiled a little at him. The future seemed bright, and I'd do whatever I could to keep it that way. As I thought that, I glanced over at Sirius.
'When we get back, I think it's time for me to tell Sirius and Remus some more about the future,' I decided. Yes, that was the best choice.
Chapter 63: Chapter 63: Medallions and Alliances
Chapter Text
Chapter 63: Medallions and Alliances
Harry POV:
Harry tugged nervously at his collar, the robe feeling tight around his throat. The dress robes he was wearing felt heavy, and if not for the spells woven into the silk, it would be rather hot from all the bright lights shining down on his head.
The dress robes Sirius had insisted he wear for the medal bestowing ceremony were made of silk from some sort of magical silkworm called a Spice Flutterling that was found in Indonesia. They ate only plants from which spices could be harvested, and the silk came in a variety of colors, from red to orange to brown, depending on which spices had been consumed at the time. They were also fireproof, which was nice.
His robes were a cinnamon brown color, and had a ridiculously high and pointy collar. Ed had joking called them 'Doctor Strange robes.' It was probably a reference to something.
Harry wished Ed had been able to attend the event with them, same as Mr. Lupin, but neither had been able to make it. Ed had to stick around in America for a few more days to learn more about what it was that the Flamels had given to him, while Remus had claimed that a werewolf attending a party held at the ministry by the ministry would just be asking for trouble.
'I wish they'd been able to come. Probably would have made the whole thing more bearable,' he thought to himself. And no, he wasn't sulking! No matter what Sirius teased him about!
"..and so, I am honored to present this Order of Merlin, First Class, to its recipient, Harry Potter!"
Oh, right, and he had to stand next to the Minister of Magic as he pontificated endlessly. Half of what he said was just self-aggrandizement and ego-stroking, the other half repeating a very sanitized version of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets.
To Harry's frustration and complete lack of surprise, Minister Fudge had refused to even so much as mention a single thing about Voldemort's involvement in his speech today. Not matter what four professors of Hogwarts had tried to tell him, he just would not be swayed. Whether it was fear of the dreaded Dark Lord actually being back or just sheer incompetence didn't matter.
'I guess Ed and I will just have to do something about Voldemort ourselves,' the Boy-Who-Lived thought to himself as he stepped up to receive the golden medal stamped with the face of Merlin himself.
With a massive, wide smile that reminded Harry of a used car salesman who didn't know how to sell anything, Minister Fudge lowered the medal around Harry's neck, the golden medallion resting above his heart.
It felt heavy as it dangled from his neck. Was this what responsibility felt like?
Harry blinked as the assembled crowd of onlookers burst into applause, and several cameras went off, nearly blinding him.
"Smile, pup," Sirius said under his breath as he walked over and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry obeyed, smiling and waving for the people who were watching him.
And then, with the ceremony over, Harry – with Sirius at his side – descended from the stage and started to mingle with the different people who'd gathered. It was quite impressive, but made Harry a little uncomfortable.
'So many people, and I hardly know any of them,' Harry said as he shook hands with someone who said they were called Bagman who babbled about Quidditch to him.
"…and the youngest Seeker of the century would surely be able to make use of the maneuver!"
"Thank you, that's quite interesting," Harry said, his interest genuine. "I never thought about combining the Wronksi Feint with the Altgrin Ambush. I'll have to try that out in practice next year."
"Come on, Ludo, don't talk the poor kid's ear off about your old glory days," a man chuckled. "Let some other people have a turn to shake his hand."
"Oh, right, of course," the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports said, smiling widely at a middle-aged man with a large and bushy salt and pepper beard.
"Simon Blunthouse, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," the man said in greeting, shaking Harry's hand.
"He's old Crouch's replacement," Ludo Bagman added.
"What happened to Mr. Crouch?" Harry wondered.
"He got fired after it was discovered that he sent a scion of a Noble House to Azkaban without a trial," Simon replied, and Sirius grimaced at the reminder.
"Truly a shame. He was a surly fellow, but good at his job," Ludo sighed.
"He was. I've had to pick up the pieces, and I wish he'd left more notes for me to follow," Simon sighed.
"Does your job entail being an ambassador?" Harry wondered.
"Sort of. We don't really have ambassadors in the magical world, but we do have attachés and people who communicate and keep in touch with other magical governments," Simon said. "It can be difficult. I honestly think the reason Mr. Crouch was so good at his job was because he was fluent in three different languages. Trying to talk with somebody who only speaks French is troublesome and tiring."
"Ah," Harry said with a wince. "I can see how that might be hard. I was in France last year for summer vacation and I certainly wouldn't have been able to get around if not for kind local guides."
They chatted a bit more before Sirius ushered Harry off in order to let his godson speak with other people.
"Good work, pup," Sirius praised Harry. "Keep it up, okay? We're almost done!"
"We still have two more hours to go!" Harry replied.
"I know. Almost done!" Sirius snickered. "Most of these things can normally last for five hours, so a three-hour meet-and-greet is pretty short all things considered."
Harry held back a groan at that, before mustering up a smile as he greeted yet another person who was approaching him. This time, they were wearing a lime green robe that burned his eyes.
"Hello, young Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling in a grandfatherly way down at Harry.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry replied in greeting, flashing a strained smile at him that the older wizard immediately spotted.
"Not one for the spotlight?" he asked with an understanding chuckle.
"Yeah, it's very… odd," Harry admitted. "I've never been good with crowds, and this feels a bit too much."
He then took a deep breath. "But, I'll deal with it. This isn't just about me, after all. People want reassurances, and seeing me here might help calm some people down."
"That's a very noble and mature point of view," Dumbledore said proudly.
"He may claim to hate being the center of attention, but he's a natural at speaking to crowds with those sappy words of his," Sirius declared, gently slapping Harry's shoulder fondly. Harry pouted up at him, causing his godfather to snort in amusement.
"Well, I thought his words were quite heartfelt, and touching," Dumbledore claimed. "I'm proud to have him as a student. He's done so much for inter-house relationships."
"Yeah, his little study groups. Heard of them. He's got some big names hanging out with him. And made friends with kids I never thought he would," Sirius said, smiling down at Harry.
This time, Harry looked away with a blush on his face, which only grew when he heard a cheerful voice call out to him.
"Harry!"
"Susan, hey," Harry said, suddenly feeling underdressed as he saw his friend from Hufflepuff approaching. She was accompanied by her aunt, the stern-faced director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement giving Harry a nod in greeting.
"Mr. Potter. Congratulations, and well done," she said. "My niece has told me a lot about you. I must admit, I thought most were just her gushing about her friend."
"Auntie!" Susan whined, blushing a little.
"Ah, Madam Bones, what a pleasure to see you," Dumbledore said, grinning politely at the monocle-wearing witch.
"Dumbledore," Madam Bones said back curtly. "Susan, why don't you and Harry talk for a bit."
"Yes, auntie," Susan nodded.
"How are you?" the headmaster asked, watching Harry escort the brunette away. "Doing well, I hope?"
"Annoyed. The moment a student was petrified you should have alerted somebody," the head of the DMLE said, tone razor-sharp. "The Aurors should have been told, as well as the Magical Creatures Department! We could have handled the problem as soon as it cropped up."
"I feared that approaching the Ministry would have put us in even more danger. Whoever it was that unleashed the Basilisk could have gone to ground, or stopped holding back and let the monster rampage. And in the end, I had faith that Hogwarts would be able to completely handle it," Dumbledore replied, waving off her concerns.
"It never should have gotten to the point where the faculty and a student were forced to fight a thousand-year-old Basilisk," Bones retorted. "We have people trained for this sort of thing, Dumbledore!"
"It was for the best," Dumbledore replied.
"We are not all incompetent despite what some think," Bones scoffed. "And if push came to shove, we could have negotiated with Gringotts for some of their Curse Breakers or Tomb Seekers to scour the castle for the Chamber's location. Nobody wants children, the future of the Wizarding World, to be killed."
Dumbledore and Madam Bones continued to talk while Sirius stood awkwardly nearby, watching the two. His head kept moving back and forth between them like he was watching a riveting game of tennis.
"I haven't seen auntie this angry in a long time," Susan whispered to Harry. They hadn't gone very far, and had instead lingered close to their guardians, and thus were able to hear everything they were saying.
"That's angry?" Harry asked, surprised. "She seemed more frustrated than anything."
"Yeah, she doesn't really show her anger. But I can tell. She's mad," Susan said with a shiver. She then perked up when she saw some other fellow students. "Hey, let's go say hi!"
"Padme, Parvati," Harry said in greeting as Susan dragged him over to the twins.
"Harry! Congrats on your shiny new medal!" Padme said with a grin.
"How are you two doing? Has you summer been fun?" Harry asked.
"It's been fun! We spent time with our family over in India," Parvati replied.
"Sounds nice," Susan said.
"Our great-uncle was very impressed when he heard what you did," Padme told Harry. "And was quite interested when he heard you were a Parseltongue."
"Your great-uncle? Oh, wait, was he the one who was also a Parseltongue?" Harry asked, vaguely recalling something to that effect.
"You remembered!" Padme gasped. "How sweet!"
Harry ducked his head, blushing a bit, and Susan and the twins smirked at him, but thankful decided not to tease him any further.
"So, Padme, Parvati, what do your parents do?" Harry wondered.
"Our papa is a member of the Indian Ministry's foreign service," Parvati said. "He's the attaché to the British Ministry."
"I heard a little about the foreign affairs department from Mr. Blunthouse. How does anything related to foreign stuff get done without ambassadors?" Harry said. "Admittedly, I don't know much about what ambassadors actually do in the mundane – Muggle – world to begin with."
"I dunno," Padme replied with a shrug. Even her sister shook her head, not knowing either.
"Do you see anyone else we know here?" Harry asked afterwards.
"I saw Ron and his family. Hard to miss all those red-heads," Parvati replied. "I think a couple others from the study group are here, too, because their parents work in the Ministry."
"And Minister Fudge wanted everyone to attend, so he sent invites to pretty much everybody in the Ministry plus all of the 'donors' who contributed to his various campaigns," Susan added.
"Just be careful, I saw the Malfoys walking around with some other Syltherins and their parents," Padme warned.
"They're not all bad," Harry said, trying to find some silver lining, though even he knew that most of them were not exactly the nicest.
"I suppose Daphne and Tracy are alright, but the rest are kinda mean," Padme replied with a frown, her sister and Susan nodding in agreement.
"Fair enough," Harry nodded slowly. He couldn't exactly dispute that. Not with Draco being such an arse all the time.
"Let's go say 'hi' to Ron, then," Harry said a moment later, and he and Susan went off to find the Weasleys. They found the large family pretty quickly, the red-heads looking unusually tanned, and were greeted by Fred and George slapping Harry's back followed by a crushing hug from Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh, you silly boy!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "You were so brave! But so reckless!"
"Now, now, Molly, perhaps the boy might like to be able to breathe, don't you?" her husband laughed, and she released Harry from her grasp.
"Th-thank you, Mr. Weasley," Harry said, gasping for air.
"No problem, Harry! And what a surprise, eh?" Arthur Weasley said. "I do believe you are the youngest recipient of an Order of Merlin ever!"
"It was very impressive," Fred said with a nod.
"Went and fought a big ol' snake, and saved a damsel in distress," George nodded.
"A true Gryffindor!" the twins said in unison.
"We were all pretty shocked when we saw the corpse just dumped out on the front lawn," Ron said with a nod. "Did not expect that at all."
"I'm just glad you're okay!" Ginny said.
"Indeed, you being safe is a relief," Percy agreed. "And discovering a lost piece of our history… why, I hear that there are people talking about adding a new chapter to Hogwarts: A Historyall about the Chamber of Secrets! Once it's been looked over by Curse Breakers and historians, of course."
"Yeah! We went to see Bill in Egypt earlier in the summer, and he told us that he'd been asked to be part of the Curse Breaking team to investigate the Chamber of Secrets!" Ron said excitedly.
"Huh, that's pretty neat," Harry hummed. "Think we'll see him around the castle?"
"Probably," Percy said. "He will have to work on-site, after all."
"That should be interesting. I wonder if I'll have to help out with that," Harry mused.
"I mean, since you're the only Parselmouth in the country, that seems likely," Ron said. He then perked up. "Maybe Bill will need some extra hands. Think the professors would assign us extra credit for that?"
"Professor Flitwick might. I bet the Ravenclaws will be begging to have a bit of fun exploring the Chamber," Susan said.
"Good point," Fred said.
"Trying to keep a Ravenclaw away from long-lost knowledge…" George added.
"Will be an effort in futility," the twins said in unison.
Harry chatted some more with the Weasleys before being swept away by a few more people who wanted to speak with him. Unable to just turn them down, Harry ended up circling through the crowd.
Susan eventually left his side, returning to stand with her aunt, leaving Harry alone to weather the storm once more. He sucked it up and handled it all on his own, smiling at everyone who approached him and shaking plenty of hands.
"Harry!"
The Boy Who Lived glanced over towards his name being called and saw Daphne and Astoria were walking over to him, the latter wearing a massive smile while her sister looked exasperated trying to keep up with her. They both were wearing silver and green dresses that shimmered as they moved.
Astoria made to hug Harry when she got closer, but Daphne grabbed her sister by the back of her dress and tugged her back.
"Remember your etiquette lessons," Daphne hissed. "That means no hugging!"
"Well, how else am I supposed to thank him?" Astoria pouted.
"Like this." She turned to Harry and gave a deep curtsy.
"Thank you for saving my sister," Daphne said, giving him a small but genuine smile. "She might be a pain, but she's my pain."
Astoria stuck her tongue out at Daphne, and then mimicked her. "Yes, thank you for saving my life."
"It was no problem," Harry assured them, but the elder sister scoffed at that.
"One does not slay a Basilisk for somebody they don't even know and claim it was 'no problem,'" Daphne drawled.
"If you say so," Harry said with a shrug, before glancing at Astoria. "Are you doing better, now?"
"I am!" she nodded excitedly. "I've never felt so full of life and energy before! I can actually run around without feeling like I'm about to die afterwards!"
Harry could admit Astoria did look a lot healthier compared to the last time he'd seen her, but then again, she'd been nearly possessed by a fragment of Voldemort. Harry bet anyone would feel out of sorts after that.
"Good. At least you didn't miss your final exams," Harry said, making conversation.
"You sound like Hermione," Daphne scoffed, while Astoria giggled.
"I suppose if there's one good thing to come of this, it's that Tom knew a lot and helped me answer some of the questions," Astoria said, her smile flickering a little as she recalled what had happened with the diary.
Harry didn't know if she'd been aware of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets such as Tom Riddle's reveal about his alter ego as Voldemort, but he wasn't going to ask her or say anything. He didn't think she deserved that kind of trauma on top of everything else.
"So, you cheated," Harry hummed.
"It's only cheating if you get caught," Astoria said in a haughty tone. "Otherwise, it's simply good planning."
"Fair enough," Harry said with a nod. He knew that he had used his Occlumency rather liberally in his First Year to help pass some of his tests at Hogwarts. Hadn't done so for his Second Year exams, though. Not after the warning Nicholas Flamel had given him last summer about what might happen if he kept abusing it. He'd had to do his exams the old-fashioned way.
"Some people wondered if Astoria wouldn't have fit in better with the Hufflepuffs given how cheerful she always seemed to be," Daphne snorted. "At least now there's definitive proof she's more cunning than some of the knuckle-draggers in the dungeon."
Astoria nodded in agreement, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle a little at that description of their fellow Slytherins.
"Speaking of Slytherins, I wanted to extend an invitation to you two to join our study group," Harry said, bringing up something he wanted to discuss for a bit. "And any other Slytherins you think might be okay with playing nice with the other Houses are welcome as well."
"That's… that's very kind of you," Daphne said, blinking a little in surprise.
"Like I've said, I don't like Draco, and Ron might have a bit of an irrational distaste for your House, but I think mending bridges and making friends with each other can only help us. After all, it's not like the Houses matter all that much when we graduate Hogwarts," Harry pointed out.
"Good point," Astoria nodded. "I always thought the divisions between the houses were silly. I'd be happy to study with everyone!"
"And so would I," Daphne quickly agreed as well. "I'm sure Tracy wouldn't mind, either. As for others… I'd have to make discreet inquiries."
"Well, there's no rush, we have until the next school year starts," Harry said.
"Astoria, Daphne," a man in a forest green dress robe said, walking over to them and interrupting their conversation. His eyes widened when he spotted Harry, and something Harry couldn't identify flickered through them.
"Daddy!" Astoria said, happily grabbing onto his hand and pulling him over. "Harry, this is our daddy!"
"Mr. Potter," the man said in greeting. "My name is Cyrus Greengrass."
He then bowed his head deeply towards Harry. "Thank you for saving my daughter, and curing her."
"I… it's fine, it's what anybody would have done," Harry said.
"He said the same thing to us earlier," Astoria said in a teasing tone.
"Sometimes, being too humble can be just as dangerous as having too much of an ego," Mr. Greengrass warned the boy. "Take pride in your achievements, and do not undersell yourself."
"I guess," Harry said, uncomfortable with that line of discussing.
"Hmm. Well, in any case, I've been hoping to speak with you, and while this place isn't the best place for it, I suppose an audience wouldn't be a terrible thing," the girls' father said, and Harry felt confused. What did he mean by that?
Their conversation had already attracted some attention, but a moment later there were even more eyes on them as what felt like everyone in the hall watched in shock and disbelief as Cyrus Greengrass knelt down on one knee before Harry.
"I, Lord Greengrass, head of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass, do pledge my house's friendship to Heir Apparent Harry Potter of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Let all debts and feuds that may exist between our houses be dissolved hence forth. Your enemies are our enemies, and so long as we live, let there be peace between us," Cyrus declared, drawing his wand and holding it so it pointed down, like a sword. The tip then glowed, as magic itself acknowledge the vow he had just made.
There were gasps of shock from the onlookers, and Daphne and Astoria both had shocked expressions, holding their hands over their mouths in disbelief at their father's words.
Harry was confused, but didn't have time to wonder all that much about what had just happened because Sirius had rushed over, placing his hands protectively on Harry's shoulders while standing behind him.
"Did you have to do this in public?" Sirius growled out in annoyance, and Cyrus just smirked.
"I would have thought somebody as fond of dramatics as yourself would approve. I do recall how… flamboyant you were when at Hogwarts."
"That was then, this is now," Sirius huffed. "Honestly, Greengrass! An Oath of Friendship in the middle of a Ministry gathering? And a magically enforced one, at that?"
"There is nothing more important to me than the safety and well-being of my children," Cyrus claimed, his mirth vanishing from his face and tone. "And it does make my stance quite clear."
"I suppose I can't argue with that," the Head of House Black sighed, before muttering under his breath, "They'll be gossiping over this for weeks!"
"So, what just happened?" Harry asked in a quiet voice as his godfather led him away.
"House Greengrass has declared themselves your ally. Politically, it means he will try and align his House with whatever sort of stance you take in the Wizengamot. Secondly, he has dissolved any blood-feuds or debts between you. If your parents or ancestors wronged House Greengrass in the past, then it's basically all water under the bridge. That has less immediate benefits, but it does mean it's a blank slate between you two. Something most Houses do not have," Sirius explained. "Take my family, for instance! There's an entire wing of the library in Grimmauld Place dedicated to keeping track of the grudges, debts, and petty feuds between us and everyone else!"
"That can't be all of it," Harry guessed.
"Smart. The Oath of Friendship means that if you go to war with anyone, House Greengrass is obligated to supply soldiers or supplies to your cause. Of course, this sort of thing meant more back when the nobles houses were actually nobles, complete with fiefs, land, and people to rule over, but it's still important because he will be obliged to aid us against You-Know-Who," Sirius stated, and Harry nodded slowly.
"That could be very important for us," Harry murmured. "Do you think we should… tell him?"
"Maybe," Sirius said with a frown. "Won't make any decisions one way or another until Moony and I have heard everything from Eddy-boy."
Harry bobbed his head in understanding. 'I hope Ed and Sirius can patch up this rift between them,' he thought to himself. He didn't like it when his family was fighting.
Harry paused for a moment, causing Sirius to glance down at him in worry. He just shook his head and kept walking, though his mind was whirling with thoughts.
'I… I see them as my family,' Harry realized. He'd never dwelt much on the thought of family before. Not when his only living relatives were the Dursleys. But it was like Ed said, wasn't it? A family doesn't have to be based solely on blood ties. He could choose the people he wanted to call family.
That brought a smile to his face, and his steps felt lighter.
'A family… I have a family!' he thought to himself happily. This realization was, without a doubt, the highlight of the entire day.
Chapter 64: Chapter 64: Tales of the Future
Chapter Text
Chapter 64: Tales of the Future
Despite the fun I'd had overseas being in the U.S., my time there had come to an end, and I'd left with both a better understanding of what the Flamels had willed to me, and what my plans for expanding in the Americas would look like going forward in the next few years.
But I was back in England again, and had spent the last forty-eight hours after getting off the plane ensuring everything I'd missed while on vacation was in order.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know," I said, talking into the phone in my apartment. "Thanks again, Delilah."
"Of course. It was fun, running a company for a little while," she giggled in my ear. "But if you want me to do it again, it'll cost you~!"
"I have plenty of souvenirs for everyone," I drawled.
"Good! I'm also annoyed you didn't tell me you now owned a house, too," she said, and I could hear the pout in her voice.
"I'm sorry, I didn't really expect it all, either," I said, scratching the back of my head sheepishly.
"Well, at least you have a place that's your own. Though I have to ask, when are you going to be moving out of that apartment of yours?" Delilah wondered. "You can afford to live anywhere you want right now."
"I guess it is time to upgrade," I muttered, thinking about getting a penthouse suite somewhere in London, or perhaps just buying a house out in the suburbs. Housing prices were fairly cheap right now. Especially since the economic downturn I'd feared had come to pass.
"Well, when you do, let me know so I can get some housewarming gifts and help you break in your new place," she said, her voice becoming husky.
"With a 'gift' like that, I'd better get a brand-new bed, too," I teased, before turning a little more serious.
"Anyways, Delilah, if you have any other questions or concerns… just ask and say 'em. I'll always have time for you," I promised.
"You're so sweet," Delilah said, a tiny note of fondness clearly audible in her words.
I paused as the sound of knocking filled the apartment, and I frowned. Seemed like it was time.
"Ah. Sorry again, but I've got to hang up. They're here, at the door," I said. "Call you back soon."
"Of course. Love you!" Delilah said before hanging up. I smiled a little to myself as I carefully set down the phone and went to get the door.
"Remus. Sirius," I said in greeting as I opened up for them. "Come in."
"Where's Harry?" Remus asked as the two men entered my apartment.
"He's at a friend's house," I replied. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Water?"
"None for me," Sirius said, declining, and Remus nodded in agreement.
"Alright," I shrugged and gestured to the couch. "Take a seat, then."
They did so, plopping down on my couch, and I sat down across from them in a chair I dragged over from the dining area.
"I'm glad you two are here. Finally ready to hear me out, huh?" I asked.
"I think it's time we had a little chat about your 'prophecies,'" Sirius said, folding his arms as he looked at me.
"I agree," I replied. "And I will tell the truth. What do you want to know?"
Sirius and Remus briefly shared a look with each other before the werewolf leaned forward. "Edward, we want to know what you know about the Horcruxes V-Voldemort created."
"Now that you destroyed Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Goblet, and that the Diary and one other were eliminated, there are only two Horcrux currently left," I revealed. "However, I do know that Voldemort planned – or is planning – to create another one in the summer of 1994 by murdering a woman named Bertha Jorkins."
"Fuck!" Sirius snarled, punching the armrest of the couch.
"Six Horcruxes…" Remus uttered in horror. "Who would be mad enough to make that many?"
"He ended up making one of them by accident," I revealed. "Still terrible, though."
"Where? Where are they?!" Sirius demanded.
"I will not tell you where one of them is," I replied, but quickly held up a hand to forestall any shouts from my interrogators. "I will gladly reveal the location of this final Horcrux to you after I have explained what happens in the future, because you need to know about it first."
"Fine," Sirius growled. "Tell us about the location of the ones you're willing to discuss."
"The first is hidden in Hogwarts," I revealed. "It's made from the Diadem of Ravenclaw, and is being used as the anchor for the curse on the Defense Position."
"Fuck," Remus stated, accurately summing up the situation.
"Quite," I agreed dryly. "Thankfully, I have a plan for it. Remus, you were invited to teach at Hogwarts, correct?"
"Yes," he nodded. "I shouldn't be surprised that you knew. I haven't decided if I'll accept Dumbledore's offer, though."
"You have to, Moony!" Sirius exclaimed. "It'll keep Harry safe if you go, and you can destroy that Horcrux!"
"I… yes, I see that," Remus muttered.
"Think it over," I told him. "I have another plan if you truly do not want to go to Hogwarts."
"Thank you," Remus nodded.
"Alright, I wanna know about the Diary and the other one that is supposedly destroyed," Sirius said.
"The Diary was originally in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, before he used his son to transport it to Hogwarts, where it possessed Astoria Greengrass and summoned the Basilisk," I said.
"Is that how that all went down?" Remus asked as Sirius swore up a storm, vowing bloody revenge on the Malfoy lineage.
"Yup. Harry destroyed the Diary. In my visions, he used the Basilisk fang that pierced him to do it. In this timeline, I believe he rammed the Sword of Gryffindor through it," I said.
"Pierce him? Oh, Merlin! Did Harry… was the pup supposed to die this year?!" Sirius demanded fearfully.
"No. Luckily, Fawkes the phoenix managed to cry onto the wound in time, neutralizing the venom. At least, in the vision," I explained. "This year, things were different, and I have to explain why."
"I don't like the sound of that," Remus muttered.
"Harry… Harry was a Horcrux," I revealed, ripping the band-aid off right away. "When Voldemort murdered his parents and tried to kill him, the rebounding of the Killing Curse shaved away a part of the Dark Lord's already unstable soul and embedded it in Harry's scar."
"No!" Sirius gasped in horror. "You can't turn living things in Horcruxes!"
"He found a way," I said. "Though it was probably only possible due to how unstable his soul was and currently is."
"Hold on, you said 'was a Horcrux.' Is that not the case anymore?" Remus asked hopefully, and I nodded, which had Sirius sagging in relief.
"I worked with Fawkes and the Sorting Hat to… arrange things differently in this timeline," I replied.
"How? The only way to deal with a Horcrux… is to destroy it," Sirius whispered.
"Harry did die in the Chamber of Secrets," I told them softly. "One of the Basilisk's fangs cut his scar. He died from the venom. But with phoenix tears, combined with the Elixir of Life produced by the Philosopher's Stone, he was revived, and the Horcrux was destroyed. He is free and safe, now."
Sirius let out a sob and he slumped in his seat. Remus awkwardly patted his friend's back, his own face screwed up in tearful relief.
"Thank you," Sirius eventually whispered to me. "Thank you, Edward."
"I love Harry like a little brother," I said truthfully. "I would not – could not! – let him suffer like that."
"What… what do we need to know about the future so we can discover this final Horcrux?" Remus asked.
"Let me tell you about what is supposed to happen before, during, and after Harry's Fourth Year," I said grimly.
The Quidditch World Cup, the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry being chosen for the latter, the convoluted scheme of Barty Crouch Jr. (who was still alive) and the aftermath resulting in the death of an innocent student and the revival of the Dark Lord was relayed to the two men. It took over an hour to get it all out, and once it was, Sirius and Remus were stunned, to say the least.
"How… how accurate?" Sirius asked, licking his lips nervously.
"Very," I said. "At least, if I had not ended up interfering. I do not know how it'll happen from now on. My actions have changed things. And it'll only deviate further from what I know as time passes."
"But what does this have to do with the Horcrux?" Remus asked.
"The final Horcrux – that have already been created at least – lies near the very spot where Voldemort revives himself," I said. "We could go and destroy it right now. But then we'd tip our hand, alerting the bald snake that we're onto him. He will try to investigate his other Horcruxes, and may discover or suspect they've been destroyed. Which means he'll try to create more."
"Ah. I can see how that would be a problem," Sirius muttered.
"Now, that could be useful for us. Voldemort never planned to create a Horcrux out of Harry," I continued. "That means, as far as he's aware, he only has five: the Diary, the Goblet, the Locket, the Diadem, and the fifth one I've yet to reveal the identity of. But that means he can only create one more Horcrux. But he doesn't know that. He thinks he's still able to make two more wretched soul anchors."
"Why one more?" Remus wondered, before he realized the answer himself. "Of course! Seven! He's tying his Horcruxes into the number seven!"
"There's no number more powerful, magically speaking at least, than seven," I said with a nod. "I believe Voldemort's goal was always to create seven of them."
"If he doesn't know Harry is – was – one, then he'll over extend, damaging his soul by ultimately separating it into eight pieces," Sirius murmured. "He was already badly unstable with five… what in Merlin's name would having made eight Horcruxes do to a man?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "If Voldemort was smart, he'd have made just three. Three is the number of stability and protection, at least in arithmancy. It would have likely kept his soul and sanity more… intact. Still, his mistakes are to our advantage."
"You want to try and arrange things to play out as they did in your visions," Sirius realized, a note of accusation in his voice.
"I do," I admitted. "But obviously in a more controlled setting."
"Letting Crouch Jr. run around and do all that shit doesn't sit right with me," the lord of House Black stated.
"I'm of the same mind," Remus said, before adding, "However, I do think there is some merit to the idea."
"You cannot be serious!" Sirius gaped at his friend.
"No, that's you," Remus shot back with a smirk, before his expression turned serious. "But we have a chance to arrange things in a way that could lead to the Dark Lord's death and defeat if we follow along with the visions."
"No. No! We should not let things play out like that!" Sirius protested. "There has to be another way!"
"I'm open to ideas," I replied calmly. Or, as calmly as I could, at least. "How do you think we should handle it?"
"I… we have to catch Crouch Jr., obviously!" Sirius declared. "That way he can't do that crazy plan! Besides, it likely wouldn't work, not with Pettigrew locked up in Azkaban right now!"
"True, Voldemort's plan does hinge on having at least two followers to pull it off," Remus said. "One to take care of him, another to infiltrate the school."
"Actually, it'd only need one," I pointed out. "Their plan to replace Mad-Eye Moody was a terrible one. Why infiltrate the school for months, just to plant a single Portkey at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament? If they were smart, they'd have slipped a Portkey to Harry at any other point in the year. Having Harry become a Champion was stupid and counterproductive. Junior could have snuck in disguised as his father with a portkey and then used it on himself and Harry. Quick and easy. No way to stop it."
"Well, maybe they waited so long because it took a while to prepare the ritual to restore Voldemort's body and that's why they went for that convoluted plan," Remus suggested, though by his expression he too was seeing the flaws in the plot.
"My point still stands regarding making Harry's name come from the Goblet of Fire," I pointed out, and Remus nodded slowly, conceding the point.
"By your own admission, the plan is stupid. So why would they try and go ahead with it in this timeline?" Sirius demanded.
"That… I don't know. It's a good question," I admitted, it being one I too had wondered about. "But by keeping to the plan from the vision, at least slightly, is a good way to both ensure Voldemort has a body we can actually destroy once his Horcruxes are finally wiped out, and it'd let us spring a trap for the Death Eaters he summons."
"You want to guide events so Harry ends up in the cemetery, Voldemort gets revived, and his minions get summoned so they are all there and we can murder them when they do appear?" Sirius asked.
"That's right," I said with a nod. "A decapitation strike!"
"It's not terrible," Remus mumbled, causing Sirius to glare at him in betrayal.
"It's stupid! And relies too much on future knowledge Edward himself has admitted may become flawed the more time passes!" Sirius hissed. "I think we should take out Crouch Jr., eliminate the final Horcrux, and be done with it!"
"And that would leave Voldemort alone in Albania, free to do whatever he wants," I stated. "That's where he is right now, by the way. Albania."
"Why there?" Remus asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. I then spread my hands out, palms up. "But that's my plan to eliminate Voldemort. I've told no lies."
"Hmm," Sirius muttered, squinting at me suspiciously before glancing down at his pocket. Curiously, his expression softened a bit as he got up and retrieved something from it.
"Well, you didn't lie, that much is true," Sirius grunted as he dropped a Russian Nesting Doll with an eerie blank face onto the coffee table between us.
"What does that do?" I asked.
"Every time a lie is told, it creates a new doll," Sirius said. "Watch. My favorite color is green."
The Doll rattled and then a tiny copy popped out of it, but with Sirius' face on the front.
"Every doll bears the face of the liar," Sirius explained. "And since not a single doll was made, that means you told us the truth."
He leaned forward. "That doesn't mean I like your plan for getting rid of Voldemort, Edward. Because I really, really don't."
"Were there other methods of detecting if I was telling the truth being used?" I wondered.
"The Blacks have a few others, but I didn't bring 'em out. I didn't think cursed thumb screws that force you to constantly talk in order to keep them from squeezing would be a good idea. Nor did I think the Liar's Poison would work."
"Liar's Poison?" I asked.
"It forces whoever drinks it to tell nothing but lies," Sirius said. "It's used as a way to find out the truth through process of elimination, though it's not very effective. And it's the counter serum for Truth Potions."
"Ah. So the doll was the least awful method," I muttered. "Thanks for that."
Sirius just grunted, and Remus gave me a scrutinizing look.
"What happened after Voldemort was revived?" the werewolf asked.
"Ah. It's not pretty," I admitted. I gave a brief summary of the years after the events in the Goblet of Fire and both men grimaced in disgust and anger at the Ministry's incompetence and Dumbledore's obfuscations. I left out how both men in front of me would die by the end of it. They didn't need to hear that. And I was fairly certain they both suspected that their deaths were somewhere within the vision when I glossed over certain parts. Though I did warn them about Kreacher's possible betrayal and the mental link Harry would end up sharing with Voldemort.
"I see," Remus muttered. "I will… I need to think on this."
"We all do," Sirius stated. He glanced at me. "Are you going to tell any of this to Harry?"
"If he asks, I will," I replied. That had his godfather grimace, but he nodded.
"So… all of what's happened so far… me being freed and exonerated, Remus's lady friend, Harry's happiness… it's all because of you, huh?" he muttered to himself, looking down at the table.
Sirius looked up at me. "Thank you for that, I suppose."
I bowed my head at him, accepting his thanks.
"Alright! Now that that sappy stuff is over, I think we need to figure out what to do about Bartemius Crouch, both Junior and Senior," Sirus said, switching from humble to fired up.
"Indeed. But it won't be easy to keep track of Crouch Sr. now that he's out of a job," Sirius said. "No set routine for him to follow, anymore."
"He was fired?" I exclaimed.
"Of course he was. Man was in charge of trials when I was tossed in Azkaban, so obviously it was his fault I never got one," Sirius huffed. "Somebody had to pay the piper, and the man already had a black mark on his record thanks to his son being a Death Eater. This was just the straw that broke the camel's back."
"And Minister Fudge needed a scapegoat," Remus added. "He should have been demoted, but there was a lot of pressure to see him removed entirely so he couldn't cause anymore problems for the Ministry. And I think some money changed hands to ensure Crouch's removal."
"That changes things, then," I admitted with a frown.
"How so?" Remus asked.
"Because Barty Crouch Jr. manages to overpower his father after the World Cup, and puts him under the Imperious, controlling him," I stated. "If Crouch Sr. is fired, he'll be at home more often. And that means it will be a coin toss on whether or not his son will be able to break free."
On the one hand, Crouch Senior would be able to keep a closer eye on his son. On the other, he could potentially grow lax with cursing Junior into obedience or worse, forget to do so entirely, and get ganked early.
"What should we do, then?" Sirius asked. "If we try to arrest him, it might give his brat a chance to escape."
"The Crouch's House Elf, Winky, is a loyal soul, and will do whatever it takes to keep Junior safe," I said. "Plus, he has an Invisibility Cloak. It would be easy for Winky to pop him out to keep him out of our hands."
"This needs to be thought over carefully," Sirius decided after a moment. "Much as I'd like to go in wands blazing, the risks are too great."
"Never thought I'd hear you be the one to urge for caution," Remus chuckled. He then frowned. "By the way, what happened next year? You only mentioned Harry's Fourth."
"Hopefully, this coming school year shouldn't have too many things go wrong," I said. "In my visions, Sirius broke out of Azkaban after learning Pettigrew was alive, and while you yourself Remus were hired to be the Defense teacher. From what I understand, you were the best one the school's had in over a decade."
"It's nice to hear Moony can teach some brats about spells and stuff, but you're saying in your visions I was still in Azkaban?" Sirius demanded, leaning in, and I nodded.
"Yes. That's another thing I've affected. Remus and I helped free you and catch the little rat so he could face justice. You would have broken free, and Minister Fudge would go mad with fear and unleash the Dementors, allowing them to act as 'guards' at Hogwarts."
"What? Why the hell would that moron do that?" Sirius demanded, blanching in fear at the mention of the prison's dreaded guardians.
"Because everyone thought you were as batty as your cousin Bellatrix, and would try to hunt down Harry and kill him for destroying your 'master,'" I said in a sarcastic drawl. "Hence the protection detail on the school. Which predictably goes horribly wrong."
"Shit," Remus said. "And if I'd taken the job there… Dementors and werewolves do not mix well. The animalistic nature of the curse, combined with the emotion-draining power of the Dementors… well, it's not pretty, based on what I've heard. The transformations are particularly brutal."
"Got that right," Sirius grunted. "There were a few werewolves in cells near me for a while. They'd go berserk every full moon and the Dementors would always gather around them, sucking up every scrap of emotion they could get. Made the entire cell block cold as Morgana's tits. The Dementors would always feed too much and eventually the poor bastards would die, their minds shattered to the point they forgot how to breathe."
"Anyways, Sirius did try to break into Hogwarts, but only because that's where the little traitor was hiding as somebody's pet," I continued. "As for the Dementors, Harry has some bad interactions with them as well. Nearly dying… I want to say three times to them. At least."
Sirius said some words that were absolutely foul, and Remus didn't even scold him for it.
"There is a tiny silver lining, though," I say. "Harry does manage to master the Patronuscharm that year as a way to defend against them. Manages to drive off over a thousand Dementors at once with a single spell."
"HA! That's my godson!" Sirius barked out gleefully, a vicious grin on his face at the idea of the Dementors getting trounced like that.
"I am surprised he was able to master such a high-level spell," Remus said, impressed as well.
"Yeah, it sorta becomes Harry's signature spell, alongside Expelliarmus," I confirm with a grin of my own. "He also manages to teach it to a whole bunch of other students in his Sixth Year."
"A teacher, too? He's got a great future ahead of him!" Sirius cheered.
"Anything else we need to know?" Remus asked after settling down.
"A few things," I said, and I quickly summarized the events of the third book for them. By the end, they were impressed with Harry's resourcefulness, dismayed by the Ministry's incompetence, and annoyed with each other for what their 'future' versions did wrong.
"I can't believe I didn't speak with Harry about his parents until he brought it up himself. I was truly a coward," Remus muttered to himself.
"Yeah. My plan was really stupid. How did I possibly think it would work? At least some kids are following in our footsteps with the Marauder's Map," Sirius hummed. "I think I should meet these Weasley twins."
Remus and I both shuddered at that. The pranksters, meeting up and uniting their forces? Chaos would consume the world!
Coughing a little to get us back and track, I gave them both a long, hard look. "Do you agree that how I've changed things is, at the very least, better than it could have been?"
"Yeah, can't argue with your actions, now that I have some context," Sirius admitted with a sigh. "Doesn't mean I like it."
"Yes, you've said that. A lot," I said dryly.
"Well, it bares repeating!" he huffed. "And I still think letting things play out as they did in your visions is a mistake!"
"So, our plans are to try and follow the original path laid out by the villains to catch Voldemort and his most loyal minions unaware for a single devastating attack, or shake things up by eliminating the Horcruxes we know exist right now and hope we can weather the storm caused by the changed future," Remus said, laying out what the two main options going forward were with a pensive expression.
"Don't really like either of 'em," the animagus whined.
"You don't seem to like anything about any of this, do you?" I drawled.
"Sure don't! Both options seem terrible!" Sirius replied with a bark of deranged laughter.
"Can we at least agree to wait and see about what might change in this coming year?" I asked. "The World Cup and the Tri-Wizard Tournament are inevitable. Short of the Ministry collapsing overnight, those two international events have been in the works for a while and won't likely get altered, at least date and location wise."
"Ugh… fine," Sirius grumbled in agreement, and Remus nodded along. "Not what I wanna do, but I can see the benefits of it."
"Thank you," I said, breathing out a gusty sigh of relief.
"Like we said earlier, let us think this over. Sleep on what we've learned. And come up with new ideas," Remus said, always the conciliator. He stood up and gave me a nod. "Thank you for being so open with us, Edward. I'll see you at work tomorrow."
"Mm-hmm. See you then. Oh, will you be able to attend Harry's birthday party?" I wondered. "He'll be having a combined one with Neville."
"Yes, there is no way I'd miss that," he vowed, giving me a nod. Sirius stood up next, pocketing the lie detecting nesting doll as he did so.
"See ya around, I guess," Sirius said. "And thanks again, for getting me out of that hellhole."
"Of course. Nobody deserves that sort of torture," I replied.
The two older men left, and I was left in silence. I felt exhausted, mentally drained by laying out so much of what I'd kept hidden for so long.
'I can only hope that this brings them over to my side fully,' I thought to myself, before groaning as I got up. I still had several days' worth of paperwork to go through, so I might as well get some of it done now, rather than put it off till tomorrow.
"Inky," I called out. "Please get me the documents I need to sign."
My dutiful House Elf obeyed, and I got ready to do more work.
Chapter 65: Chapter 65: Birthdays and War Gear
Chapter Text
Chapter 65: Birthdays and War Gear
"Nice place," I whistled, looking around at the mansion the Portkey had dropped Harry, Remus, Sirius and I off at.
Longbottom Manor – known as Grand Hill because it was built on top of and inside of several large hills – was an impressive sight. It was hard to tell where the front lawn began or ended because of how large it was. Not to mention that the mansion reminded me of the hobbit homes in the Lord of the Rings with grass and plants growing on everything, except scaled up and with a few ivy-strewn towers poking up like giant fingers emerging from the land.
"Whoa, it's beautiful!" Harry exclaimed.
"The Longbottoms made their fortunes in food and construction," Sirius said. "They own many farms and ranches, and used to compete with the Potters for construction deals and contracts. It's no wonder why their ancestral home would be an incredible fusion of both of their specialties."
"My family used to run a construction company?" Harry asked, curious about this little tidbit.
"House Potter was well known for a few different things in the past," Madam Augusta Longbottom said, walking over to our group at a brisk pace. "Besides their dabbling in potions and enchantments, they were famed for their impressive magical buildings, and the creation of animated constructs. I believe the suits of armor and statues in Hogwarts are some examples of their finest work, if I'm not mistaken."
"Their name, 'Potter,' even refers to the way they crafted with clay in the olden days, turning inanimate matter into mobile, animated creatures that could be mistaken for living things," Sirius added.
"Like golems?" I asked, intrigued.
"Similar to the Jewish mystical art, yes," Sirius said, before giving a polite bob of his head to the older woman. "Forgive us for not immediately greeting you, Lady Longbottom."
Harry mirrored his action as well, and Remus and I bowed a little bit deeper out of respect.
She let out a grumpy huff but nodded back at Sirius. "Glad to see you've educated the boy on how to act. I was aghast when Neville told me Harry Potter hardly knew a thing about our world until he attended school! Whoever was in charge of his education was sorely lacking!"
Harry looked a little put off at that verbal jab, clearly annoyed on my behalf since I'd been the one to teach him a bit about the magical stuff before he'd started school.
I didn't mind, though. I'd done my best to teach Harry about the Magical World and its various social customs and norms, but I hadn't been the best teacher in that regard. After all, I hadn't been taught most of the important political stuff after it was discovered I was a Squib, so I was working off of mere scraps of information.
Besides, I knew Madam Longbottom's words were more directed at Dumbledore than anyone else. She may have been part of the Light faction, but the matriarch of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the oldest and most 'pure' magical bloodlines in Magical Britain, was well-known to not be a fan of her faction's nominal leader.
"Well, come along," Madam Longbottom said, turning around and leading the group into the manor. "Neville has been waiting for you."
"Hey, Remus," I whispered to the werewolf as we headed into the mansion. "I didn't know there were Jewish witches and wizards."
"They call themselves something different, but yes, they exist. Most people of Hebrew descent who possess magic attend the school in Prague, which was founded by Rabbi Loew," Remus said to me. "Or they attend the magical school in Jerusalem."
"Didn't know that," I hummed, intrigued.
"The Jewish faith does not have many adherents in the magical world, but it is respected for a variety of reasons. Though many magicals also sympathize and empathize with their history."
"You mean the discrimination?" I asked with a wince.
"Yes," Remus said bitterly.
Deciding to stop talking about such a morbid topic and not ruin the day with it, Remus and I shut up as we entered the ball room that had been decorated for a double birthday party.
Neville was waiting within, and he lit up with a bright smile as he rushed over to greet his grandmother and Harry.
"You're here!" he said happily, giving Harry a hug.
"Of course!" Harry replied. "Worried I wouldn't show up?"
"A little," Neville admitted as he let his friend go. "I've never had a birthday party before with friends."
"Well, that's clearly going to change from now on," Harry declared, putting a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder.
That brought a tiny smile out onto Neville's face, and the two began to speak with each other.
"Thank you," Madam Longbottom said as she went to stand next to the myself and the other two adults.
"Don't worry about it," Sirius said, waving her off.
She let out a harumph, but there was also a flicker of a smile that passed over her face as she looked at how happy her grandson was.
A few minutes later, the first guests showed up, the fire place turning green with floo-flames. Ron stepped out, brushed some soot off, and gave the two a grin. "Happy birthday, Harry, Neville!"
He pulled out a pair of presents wrapped up in old newspapers. "Be careful, I think the twins may have snuck some of their prank items in 'em after I left them alone for ten minutes earlier today."
"Noted," Harry said, gingerly accepting the package.
A moment later, more green flames burst to life, and Hermione stepped out with the other Muggleborn girls and Lavender Brown. They'd hitched a ride with Lavender, who let them use her family's floo since the rest didn't have access to their own magical fireplace.
"Happy birthday, Harry! Neville!" the bushy-haired girl said happily, pouncing on them to deliver hugs.
One by one, the rest of the Gryffindors in Harry and Neville's year showed up, along with their friends from the other houses, including Susan and Hannah. Even Daphne and Tracy showed up. The latter to once again thank Harry for saving her sister, and the latter just came along for morale support since they were the only Slytherins attending.
Thankfully, nobody seemed to give them any grief for their house affiliation, and the whole event went well, with cake and party games galore.
"Left! Left!"
"No, to the right!"
"Right there! No, no, not there! Up a bit!"
The kids shouted at a blindfolded Harry and Sally-Anne as they raced to pin the tail on the dragon.
"And Sally wins again!" Hannah called out with a laugh when they stabbed their pins into the posters.
"How are you so good at this?" Daphne asked Sally-Anne, who'd somehow managed to pin the tail accurately each and every time.
"Dunno," the Gryffindor shrugged as she took off her blindfold. "Guess I'm a natural."
"My turn!" Ron said as he rushed over to take Harry's place, and Terry Boot joined him. Neither of them managed to get the tail near the dragon's butt, but Ron was the closer of the two, and he threw his hands into the air gleefully at his victory.
"I think everyone has had a chance to pin the tail on the dragon," Remus said, looking around at the children.
"What's next?" Neville asked.
"It's such a lovely day outside. Be a shame not to take advantage of it," Sirius said with a playful grin on his face. I had a smile of my own as I led the kids outside towards a couple of tables that had been set up in the Longbottom's yard.
"Whoa! Water balloons and squirt guns!" Dean gasped excitedly as he saw what was laid out for them.
"Magical water balloons and squirt guns!" I amended. "The latter have Aguamenticharms on them so you don't have to constantly refill them, and we've cast Duplication charms on the former so they'll never run out."
That got them excited as they rushed to get some
"Should we divide into teams?" Hermione wondered.
"Boys against girls!" Justin shouted in response, grabbing a water balloon off the table and chucking it as Padma who squealed and ducked, causing it to splash against her twin.
"JUSTIN!" the wet girl fumed, while Justin wisely decided to book it, running off in fear as Parvati grabbed two water guns Rambo style and chased after him.
Susan and Daphne grabbed some water balloons and began to rally the girls while the boys grabbed squirt guns and began to fight back against the barrage.
It soon devolved into an all-out water brawl between everyone. The adults even got drawn in, with Sirius cackling madly as he chased Remus and I around the yard, tossing water balloons at us.
"Traitor!" I laughed as I dodged one thrown my way by the Black man-child. I twisted around and fired the squirt gun in my hands at him and nailed him in the face. He spluttered a bit, and was then nailed by two water balloons courtesy of Remus.
"Alright, children!" Madam Longbottom called out. "It's time to cut the cake!"
Because the water was conjured up via spells, we dried off quickly. Which was a good thing, because it was time for food!
Dobby had worked with the Longbottom's House Elf to create a truly amazing cake. It was a thing of beauty, a giant sponge cake made in the likeness of Neville's toad, Trevor (the warts were replicated with gumballs).
The kids stuffed themselves with cake and other snack foods, and most of them ended up with stomach aches when the feeding frenzy was all over.
Thankfully, magic could cure much, and Madam Longbottom had expected such a thing to happen and prepared fruit punch laced with stomach soothing potions for them to sip on as they laid around, digesting everything.
Afterwards, the kids played some more, but kept indoors. Gobstones, Exploding Snap, Wizard Chess, and a few other magical boardgames were brought out and enjoyed.
I lost two matches of Gobstones to Harry, and Seamus Finnigan trounced everyone in Exploding Snap. He was extremely good at anything magical related to fire, and it turned out this translated to explosions as well. And of course, Ron beat the pants off of everyone when it came to Wizard Chess. The red-head even managed to impress Madam Longbottom, who was, I was surprised to learn, the equivalent of a Wizard Chess Grandmaster. I had a feeling that promised interesting things in the future if Ron kept his skills up.
But all things end, and one by one, the party-goers flooed back to their homes. Then, when everything was over and people went home, Harry and Neville sat down to open their gifts.
I'd always thought opening up presents in front of other people was a bit rude, and that was something Harry also agreed with me about, and he also rather easily convinced Neville to open the gifts later since the Longbottom heir didn't want to cause any sort of conflict or embarrassment between the party-goers. Also, Pureblood etiquette discouraged opening gifts in front of the gift giver as well, so there was that, too.
"Here you go, kids," I said, handing over the birthday gifts I'd gotten for them. For Harry, it was the enchanted ring of protection I'd gotten in America. As for Neville, I'd gotten him an assortment of fancy and rare magical seedlings for him to plant in his garden.
"Thanks, Ed!" Harry said happily, and Neville nodded along with a wide smile. I smiled back. Seeing both of them enjoy themselves was reward enough.
Today was good day.
111 &&&&& 111
"This is the place, then?" I asked, looking up at the building Sirius had led myself and Remus to. The day after Harry's birthday party, the two Marauders had met up at my office, and then we'd Portkeyed away.
This had been in the works for a while, and I was excited to get started. Though the place that we'd arrived at was quite interesting, to say the least.
"Yup," Sirius drawled, a look of disgust on his face. "One of the many vacation villas the Blacks own. This place is the only location in the British Isles we kept around aside from Grimmauld Place, and a place my parents liked to send me and my brother whenever we misbehaved."
"Let me guess. It was less of a vacation spot and more of a place they could torture you without being overheard?" I guessed, and he nodded, spitting on the porch.
The place he'd taken us was an actual castle on a hillside in the moors of Wales, complete with moat, draw bridge, parapets, and knowing the Blacks, a dungeon. Constructed from black stone, it was not very large, more of a Motte and Bailey with the baily part left to be consumed by nature, but it was still an impressive piece of architecture.
"Welcome to Castle Black, the original home of the Blacks, before they moved to Grimmauld Place," Sirius explained as he waved his wand and lowered the drawbridge. "Took a while to clean it and fix it up. My parents really let it fall into disrepair that not even a House Elf could fix. Thank Merlin you made connections with those dwarves, Ed."
"Why did your family leave?" Remus wondered, looking up at the eerie castle.
"The castle was cursed a long time ago. Anybody who stayed within it would eventually be driven mad," Sirius said with a grimace. "The curse was removed, but it took several generations to cleanse, and by the time it was fixed, London had grown to become the center of Magical Britain and it was decided that it was better to stick close to the seat of power, so to speak."
Remus grunted in acknowledgement, and then shivered as we passed through the entrance. I understood why, of course. There was a creepy feeling hanging over the entire building.
Upon entering, a deathly wail rang out, and I jumped a bit in fright as the sound echoed around us.
"Is that a ghost?" I asked, unnerved.
"Yeah. Not sure who he is. No idea if he's a Black or just one of their unfortunate victims. Don't mind him, though, he's harmless. Just wanders around and screams whenever somebody enters," Sirius said, waving it off.
"I suppose that's an effective alarm system," I muttered, resolving to look up some rituals in Flamel's journal regarding warding rooms against ghostly intrusions.
"Now, we can use this place for testing," Sirius declared as he led our little group into the great hall. It was empty, the tables and furniture pushed up against the walls, leaving a lot of room to work with.
"Wards look strong," Remus commented, looking at something I couldn't see, and Sirius nodded.
"Yeah, they should be. These are ward for resisting war magic and sieges from mundane armies," Sirius claimed. "If any of our experiments manage to harm this place, I will be shocked."
"Alrighty, then. What should we test first?" I asked, taking off my expanded-space backpack and removing a few items from it. They included a few handguns, bullets, and body armor of various types, ranging from sports gear protection and military grade stuff that 'fell off the back of a truck,' so to speak.
Research into adding magic to modern weapons had hit a few snags recently. Trying to apply runes to bullets was possible, but it really didn't add much to them. Bullets and their shells were so small that engraving runes into either wasn't very efficient. We could imbue them with elemental effects, but while it was cool to see a bullet freeze or burn a target, it wasn't as useful as just getting shot with a regular piece of lead.
Enchanting the guns themselves was slightly more promising, but the more moving parts an object had, as well as the smaller the components used to hold it together like screws and such, the harder it was for the enchantment to properly affect all of it at once. Enchant a mirror or a wardrobe? Easy. But a handgun gun that had a whole bunch of fiddly bits, to say nothing of the bigger weapons? Not so much.
We found some success in miniaturization via the Shrinking spell to hide and store weapons, and found a way to make certain things lighter and better able to handle recoil. The Featherweight Charm made it so even a guy like me could pick up a machine gun without issue (don't ask how we got one). But again we ran into the whole issue of enchanting objects with lots of small and moving parts!
I had no idea how Mr. Weasley had managed to enchant his car, because according to what my researchers told me, it shouldn't have been possible. But given how he'd been tinkering with it for years, they assumed that the spells and enchantments had been layered onto it so much they were simply brute forcing themselves to work, and damn the consequences!
In the end, after numerous failures, we tried to switch gears and find a way to increase the amount of ammunition a gun could have access to instead of making the weapons themselves magical.
Unfortunately, it seemed that trying to use a Doubling Charm on bullets did not work as planned. We could create as many copies of a bullet as we wanted, but said copies wouldn't fire properly. Apparently, the basic duplication spell taught in Hogwarts had trouble with making copies of living things as well as anything too complicated. Bullets fit into that latter category.
Oh, sure, the lead round itself as well as the cartridge could be replicated, but the gunpowder was another story. It was too complex, too many different substances mixed together.
Old fashioned black powder, that is to say, saltpeter, charcoal, and Sulphur, could be duplicated magically albeit with some difficulty and loss of explosive power, but modern gunpowder was a lot more complex than just three ingredients. This meant any bullets we made via magic would often not work, the gunpowder not igniting properly.
And even when we did successfully duplicate a bullet with functional gunpowder, the entire duplicated construct would soon collapse as soon as ignition occurred!
Turns out that explosions, which is how a bullet is propelled from a gun, are really bad for duplicated items to experience, since they are extremely weak and can lose cohesion simply by being hit by a strong gust of wind in the worst-case scenarios. Add in the fact that ignition was caused by the firing pin striking the cartridge's primer, and that impact could also destroy a copy!
The only success we had at creating magical copies of bullets was with the cursed version of the spell, and that was just as useless in the end, as while duplicates made via the Geminiocurse were more durable, they were also insanely unstable. They would try to begin duplicating inside the gun itself the moment they were damaged, like, say, when the gunpowder ignited, which led to jamming and explosions. Plus, there was the whole 'curse' thing. The tainted magic would foul up guns, leading to jams, breakages, disabling and corrupting other enchantments and runes, and in one experiment, caused the entire firearm to fall apart into a pile of ash.
To my annoyance, creating a gun with limitless ammo via the Doubling spell was currently impractical. And none of us who were attempting these experiments were spellcrafters, so for the moment, that option was unavailable for now.
We'd next tried to enchant the magazines themselves to hold more bullets, but we discovered an interesting little snag in the process. The smaller the space you were trying to magically expand, the less amount of space you could create with an Undetectable Expansion Charm.
Something with the volume of an empty backpack, like the one I'd bought in New Orleans, could contain approximately five times that much when given an Expansion Charm. An empty shipping container could have a hundred times as much compared to the original volume and a chest or steam trunk could contain as much an entire room within it. But anything smaller than a backpack? You began to get diminishing returns.
Simply put, the more initial space you had to work with, the bigger the magically expanded area could be. Which explained how places like Gringotts or the Ministry of Magic, which had been built underground, could exist without anybody up above them in London noticing.
But it also meant that trying to enchant a handgun or rifle magazine resulted in it only being able to hold up to 1.5 times as many bullets at a time. Useful to a degree, but not quite what we'd been hoping for, ultimately.
Now, in all fairness, the people doing these enchantments and experiments were not actual Enchanters or masters of their respective magical crafts. It was just me, Sirius, Remus, Delilah, and occasionally Sam who were doing the work.
It wasn't that we didn't trust our employees or other people with these things… but that was exactly the reason. Trust. Even with magical oaths and bonds enforcing the NDAs and contracts, nothing was fool proof. The only way to ensure total secrecy was to keep the group small.
I'd already pushed too far with my magically assisted businesses, and I was growing worried that the thin line keeping me out of the crosshairs of the magical world was growing too frayed for comfort.
Now that I was thinking more clearly after no longer using Occlumency constantly – which was a bit of an ironic statement in my opinion – I could see just how arrogant and rash I'd been, and wished I could travel back in time and slap some sense into my past self.
Seriously, what had I been thinking? Selling watered down potions in the open? It would have been far safer to keep my head down while experimenting with runes and alchemy and figure out a way to cast Reparospells on broken things if I wanted to discreetly amass wealth. Remus had done so, after all, and he'd only been limited by his lack of understanding of the Muggle world.
Honestly, my potions business was a side gig at this point. I was making far more money through my garbage recycling and shipping businesses per week than I'd made selling potions in a single year!
But that was the past. I had to accept the reality that I'd fucked up, and deal with any consequences that came along with said fucking up.
That was why the three of us were out here today, testing magically enhanced gear in a secret wizard castle. Because some of this stuff was going to be used against Voldemort and his goons, and with his revival right around the corner, I wanted to be ready for it.
I took out three pairs of earmuffs, passing them out to everyone, before picking up a gun.
"Okay! First test! One ordinary Glock 17 handgun, no modifications!" I called out. I then passed it over to Remus, who carefully took it from me. I'd put him through gun safety training and shooting practice for his job as head of Crucible Security Solutions, and he was a pretty decent shot.
A paper shooting target had been set up at the end of the great hall with an old bed mattress behind it to catch any stray bullets. I took up a spot near Sirius, and he conjured a shield for us to stand behind in case of ricochet or misfires.
Gun in hand, Remus took a deep breath, removed the safety, aimed, and fired. A sharp retort barked out and the empty casing clattered to the stone floor. Sirius flinched back, as even with the ear protection the sound was loud.
"Ow!" he grunted. "Are all guns that loud?"
"Some are louder," I replied as I checked a large device on the floor next to Remus. It was a machine for measuring decibels. A bit bulky compared to what the future would someday have, but it was portable, at least. "Hmm, 162 decibels. Sounds about right."
Sirius snickered at the unintentional pun and I rolled my eyes as Remus put the safety back on. I handed him his next weapon. It was another Glock 17, but this time it had a single Silencing rune etched into the back of the slide, near the sights.
Since the runes needed the radiant magic of a mage to trigger, and Remus was the only one of us who had any shooting skills, he had the honor of testing our first experimental runic weapon.
Once again, Remus repeated the safety procedures, aimed, and fired, putting another round through the target. This time, the sound was noticeably quieter.
"How much did it reduce things by?" Sirius asked as he rubbed his left ear.
"It's down to 108 decibels. Seems like a single rune reduced the sound by a little more than a third," I told him as I checked the decibel measuring device. "Don't forget the fact that runic enchantments don't work that well with a complicated mechanical tool like a gun, so that's actually pretty good."
I got out the third Glock. This one had three Silencing runes engraved into it. One on the back of the slide, like the second one, but with two more on either side of the slide, above the trigger.
Why three? Because arithmancy proved that magic liked to do things that way. Three runes worked more synergistically than just one or two.
Remus took it, repeated the safety steps, and fired a single shot. For a moment I wondered if it had actually fired, as I hadn't heard anything. But when he gave us a nod, I went over to check the target the first, then the meter.
The former had a hole in it that hadn't been there before, and the meter showed a number I was absolutely pleased with.
"It worked!" I cheered. "Zero decibels!"
We checked again, this time by removing our earmuffs, but once more the gun fired completely silently, the only sounds being the muffled thump of the bullet hitting the mattress and the clatter of the empty shell hitting the ground.
"Damn, that's kinda scary," Sirius muttered, eyeing the holes in the paper target. "The loudness was startling, but the silence… it's a bit worrying."
"Agreed," Remus nodded, eyeing the weapon in his hands warily. "So odd. To think these are in the hands of so many Muggles the world over."
"Yeah, and a lot of them are much more dangerous than a Glock," I said. "That's why we have defensive gear to test, too."
I went to grab the items we were going to test out of my backpack while Remus and Sirius set up the room to accommodate them.
Defensive equipment was tricky. Sure, anybody could wear rings, jewelry, and the like that carried enchantments, but we did not have any Enchanters on hand to make something like that. So, we had to rely on what we did have. Potions, alchemy, and most importantly, runes.
Weaving runes into Kevlar or etching them onto ceramic or steel plates that'd fit into body armor would work well enough, but only until they got damaged. If a bullet or spell put a hole through a single rune, then the whole array would fail and it would stop being magical, which could be a death sentence in a fight.
Now, it might seem like the solution would be putting the runic sequences somewhere they couldn't be easily targeted, but, as a famous quote said, location, location, location. You want to make a Bubblehead charm to protect a person's head? The runes better be as close to the head as possible. And a Shield charm? As close to the heart as you can get, for the magical symbolism of protection.
Not to mention, some runic sequences were quite big, and if we wanted to create personal Protego shields or Bubblehead arrays they'd be quite large, even if we tried to make the runes as small as possible. And the smaller the runes, the weaker the effect.
To make a Protegothat could appear anywhere on the body capable of stopping small arms fire out of runes, the entire array would need to cover approximately 30 square centimeters. And that was a lot of space. And thus, a lot of points of failure if a single bullet or some other attack managed to damage something important.
But there were benefits to this method that warranted investigation. For one, it was a personal forcefield of sorts, enough to keep a person safe from stray shots from heavier weapons and several direct hits from sidearms like a Glock. Add in a Bubblehead charm, and it was also a superior gas mask! The runes were also designed to draw in ambient magic, so as not to rely on a person's own magical energy, though it could, and if worn by a Squib or mage, it would make the shields slightly stronger. Around twenty to forty percent stronger, in fact!
And if the Protegodid get broken, it'd take a few seconds for the magic to recharge it. If the person wearing the body armor could get into cover, then there was a chance they could keep going when they regained their shield. Plus, it was still body armor, even if its defensive capabilities were reduced.
To that end, we'd woven the Protego's runic sequence into the Kevlar in a spot that was somewhat unlikely to be hit; around the sides of the body, near the ribs and underneath the arms, near the armpits. It had been cleverly broken into two parts so it didn't have to wrap around the torso, and thus negate the whole point of putting it elsewhere. Most shots would generally come from the front or back. The sides were a smaller target, and the perfect place to put some runes. As for the Bubblehead's array, it was woven into the fabric around the collar.
"Test firing against the first suit of Avalon Mark 1 body armor!" Remus called out after I'd set up the body armor on a mannequin.
The grandiosely named equipment was just a standard Level IIIA Soft Armor ballistic vest made of Kevlar and Twaron strands. It had a faint, barely discernable shimmer of pale white energy, proof of the shield being up.
I'd picked it up, along with the guns, during my extended stay in America. Say what you like about gun laws in the U.S., it sure made buying them, and other things like this, pretty damn easy.
The first shot Remus fired into it was stopped dead in its tracks, the bullet flattening into a coin against a semi-translucent blue shield the size of a dinner plate that popped up, causing it to flare brightly, becoming fully visible. The second and third shots bounced off, and I flinched as one round got a bit too close for comfort. Even behind Sirius's own Protego, it was still nerve-wracking to be so close to a live fire exercise.
"Okay, note to self, include some sort of inertial dampeners to prevent ricochets," I muttered.
It took a total of six rounds to cause the shield to collapse, and the bullet that managed to do so managed to strike the chest, but failed to penetrate.
The next test was to see how well the shields held up if the shooting came from other directions. To this end, Remus enchanted the mannequin to spin around slowly. He then fired at the test dummy, and we all noted carefully how each quickly the shield would appear, and how well it could handle it when the shots came from different angles.
"It doesn't handle shots that are too low," I noted, examining the damage done to the bottom half of the life-sized doll. "The legs aren't protected enough."
"Makes sense. The runic sequence is centered on the torso, and it focuses on protect the more vital areas located in the chest and head," Remus nodded.
"I also saw that the Protegosdidn't appear fast enough if the shots aimed at wildly different areas," Sirius commented. "When Remus shot at the right arm, then followed up with a shot to the head, the shield was much slower to form and almost didn't manage to block the bullet."
"Yeah, good point. What if we made the Protegobigger? Right now it's small, and so the runic array has to constantly shift the shield around to counter each and every bullet, but if the shield itself was larger, then it wouldn't need to worry about that," I suggested.
"Hmm. We could try to combine the Protegospell with a modified, full body Bubblehead Charm. Create a forcefield around the entire person," Sirius suggested.
"That would require a lot of work, and a genuine Spellcrafter if we wanted it done right," Remus pointed out. "Not to mention the size of the array would be significantly larger. It wouldn't fit in the place we currently are using."
"Why don't we use a Compression Enchantment to shrink it down to size so it fits?" Sirius wondered. "That's what we did to make the Marauders Map. Without it, the thing would be the size and thickness of an encyclopedia!"
"Something to explore for sure," I hummed. "But if that doesn't work out, why don't we put the runic array on a large sheet of fabric and just fold it up a bunch of times then stuff into a small space on the body armor?"
"Like stuffing a folded up quilt into a pillow!" Sirius said, realizing what I was going for.
"Unorthodox, but it could work," Remus mused. "I'll look into both options. But before that, time for the final test."
Remus then put on a suit of Avalon Armor himself, to test if he could still shoot while wearing his own piece of shielded equipment. Turned out he could. The Protegodid not interfere with being able to shoot through it.
"Good first round of testing," I said, congratulating the two when the guns and armor had been tested a bit more, mainly with shooting the body armor with spells instead of bullets to see how well it stood up to magic. Fairly well, all things considered. The Avalon Armor could stop a Piercing Hex, one of the most common combat spells in the Wizarding World, up to two times before needing to recharge.
"We'll need to find a way to reduce the amount of light produced whenever the armor is hit," Remus said, giving his two pence based on what he'd experienced so far. "The flash of light whenever a bullet strikes the Protegocould blind and disorient the person wearing it. Especially if its dark."
"Hmm. Yes, nice catch," I nodded. "The flash could give away a person's position, too."
"Still, the results seem decent," Sirius hummed. "Need to check the performance when it's being worn in action, of course. See how different things are when the runes are being powered by the wearer's magic in the middle of a fight. But it looks promising so far!"
"That it does," I said with a smile. There were other things to experiment with.
Making more of my Bullet Time rings to improve reaction time. Seeing if it was possible to dye clothing with potions to make them resistant to things like fire or provide other effects. Exploring the world of magical tattoos and certain types of combat rituals as well as something Nicholas Flamel had called 'War Alchemy' in his notes.
There was a lot to do, and I could feel my excitement building as I thought about everything we'd have to do. This was going to change the world. I could tell!
Chapter 66: Chapter 66: To Make a Mage
Chapter Text
Chapter 66: To Make a Mage
"Okay… and how about now, Sam?" Delilah asked as she held up a piece of wood with a carving of a Mooncalf on it.
"Maybe some sort of squiggly lines?" Sam muttered, squinting at it.
"I see. What about… this one?" Delilah inquired as she put down the wooden carving and replaced it with a thin bronze tablet that had several charms attached to it via runes."
"I can't see anything or tell what you're holding," he admitted.
"Hmm. Interesting," my girlfriend murmured. She adjusted her enchanted glasses, the same pair I'd given her to wear back in Paris so she could see magical stuff without issue.
The three of us were in a room at one of my workshops. The whole place was empty for the day, and we were using it as a place to hold a few simple experiments.
It'd been a while since Sam had been subjected to the Squib to Mage ritual, and so far, everything looked normal. The transition was not instantaneous, which was interesting to note. Or rather, the effects weren't immediately obvious.
The amount of magical energy he could produce had jumped significantly and was slowly but steadily increasing, though he was still only above average as far as Squibs went for magical power. Sam did have more than I did though, which was a bit of a blow to my self-esteem.
However, Sam didn't start to immediately see through anti-Muggle wards and other magical barriers. Bit by bit, his eyes could pierce the veils and powerful enchantments, but it would take a while before he had full magical senses like a proper wizard or even a Squib.
The tests we were doing were fairly straightforward. We held up different magical objects with various levels of magical power and enchantments. Some were simple enough that anyone, mundane or magical, could see them. Others were more complex, that only somebody with Squib levels of magical ability could detect.
It was sort of like an eye exam, but for differing levels of magic. We were hoping to establish some facts before we underwent the ritual ourselves. Since Sam was a Muggle to begin with, there would likely be differences for the process, but it was still good data.
To find out if the ritual worked on Delilah or myself, we'd have to get some rather rare items to help out. For instance, there were some magical creatures, like Dementors, that were invisible to even Squibs and could only be seen by a proper witch or wizard. And other beings could create sounds and scents that mundane people and Squibs couldn't detect either. We didn't have any of those on hand, however, so we had to make do.
"Okay, last one," Delilah claimed, picking up a small painting. It was a magical landscape painting that had some interesting properties that changed what one saw depending on how much magic you had.
Apparently, the Blacks – and other old Purebloods like them – had used it to judge if a person had enough magic. Muggles would see an empty field. Squibs would see a single, stationary, white sheep. While proper mages would supposedly see a black sheep that moved around and did sheep stuff. Eating grass and what-not. Delilah and I could only see a white sheep so we couldn't confirm. But Sirius had happily lent it to us for our tests.
"Um, no changes," he replied. "Still can't see anything on that one except a sort of fuzzy white blob."
"Got it," I said, marking his response down into a batch of notes. "Well, that's all of them, I guess. Good work."
"What's the verdict, doc?" Sam asked, tone playful.
"If things keep progressing at the rate they've been going, you should be able to see things any regular Squib can see within four months. Six, max," I informed him.
"And how long will it take before I can see everything?" he wondered.
"Hmm… possibly in a year from now? Between ten to fourteen months, if things follow the same rate of progression as the Mundane to Squib magical assimilation process," I replied.
That meant we were looking at a magical integration rate of around two years, or twenty to thirty months, per person based on the current ritual. I had a feeling we could modify it, but that would take more study.
"Damn, that's slow," Sam hummed.
"Considering you didn't have any real magical aptitude of note until a little bit ago, this is actually rather fast, all things considered," I pointed out.
"That's true, I suppose," Sam nodded. "What's the plan, then? Same time next month?"
"Yup. We'll schedule your monthly eye-exam for… how does September 15th sound?" I asked.
"Hmm. Wednesday, right? Yeah that should be fine, as long as it's after four in the afternoon," he replied after thinking it over.
"Gotcha," I said, marking that down in the calendar.
"So, we've confirmed the ritual works. At least as far as turning a normal person into somebody with magic," Delilah said.
"To an extent, yes," I confirmed with a nod.
"Then in that case, I want to go next," Delilah declared.
"What?" I uttered, blinking a bit.
"I want to go through the ritual myself," she said, repeating her intent.
"I-I thought that's what you said," I replied. "That's not a good idea, Delilah."
"Ed, I think we've done all we can, short of waiting another year to see if Sam completely assimilates the ritual and gains magic," Delilah replied.
"Delilah, I don't think that's a good idea," I repeated in protest.
"Ed," Delilah said, calmly putting a hand on my chest. "Trust me."
"I do! It's the ritual I don't trust! Not yet, at least!" I told her truthfully. "What if something goes wrong? What if Nicholas' notes didn't take something into account? Or I make a mistake when setting it up? I-I don't want anything to happen to you."
"And you think letting yourself go through with the ritual first to check for any dangers is somehow something I'd be okay with?" she demanded, raising an eyebrow at me.
I huffed and looked away, unable to retort, as I knew she was just as worried for me as I was for her.
"Ed. I want to do this," she said, softly but firmly. I waffled for a bit, but in the end, I caved.
"Fine," I sighed. "I'll start working on setting it up. We have plenty of materials from the recycling operations. Should be ready in a week. Ten days, max."
"Thank you, Ed," Delilah said gratefully, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
I hummed a little, hugging her for a bit, before letting her go. She left after grabbing her things, having other stuff to do that day, and leaving me with my best friend in the warehouse.
"So, is Harry excited for school to start again?" Sam asked, changing the topic with the subtly of a brick through a window, but I chuckled all the same, glad for the distraction.
"Sure is," I said, glad to talk about something else. "He's grabbing the school supplies in Diagon Alley today with his friends. Hopefully he won't have to fight any more Basilisks or other monsters this year."
"I saw the photo," Sam said with a wince. "Bloody thing was huge! Can't even imagine trying to fight something like that without a damn tank or a company of soldiers at my back. Let alone four teachers, an old hat, and a fiery bird."
"Agreed," I replied with a nod. I then tilted my head. "How are things with that girl you met?"
"Tonks is fun," Sam said, smiling a bit. "She's also really understanding about my, my gender issues, and… I'm thinking about telling her I know about magic."
"She doesn't know you know about it?" I asked, surprised.
"No, she's kept it on the downlow, and I never mentioned it."
"Well, just claim to be a Squib or something. That would explain why you know. And it wouldn't technically be a lie," I suggested.
"Right, that makes sense," Sam nodded. "Hey, would you and Delilah be interested in a double-date?"
"I can ask her, but I wouldn't mind," I replied.
"Cool!" Sam said, grinning happily. "Got anything else to do today?"
"Some homework, and paperwork, but nothing I can't put off till the evening," I replied, glancing at my watch. "It's a little past eleven… want to grab an early lunch?"
"Yeah, that sounds nice," Sam agreed, getting up and following me out of the warehouse. I locked it up, and then went to a dark blue Volkswagen parked nearby. I'd gotten it because I didn't want to have to rely on others driving me around all the time. Taking the test to get a driver's license had taken a bit of work, since even after so many years I still had American driving instincts etched into my muscle memory, but having it made things easier for me.
"Been a while since we've hung out together," Sam commented as I drove us to a diner nearby.
"Yeah, it has been," I said. "We should do this more often. Make a weekly thing. Monthly, at the very least."
"I'd like that," Sam said. "How's Oxford treating you?"
"Not bad, lectures and assignments interfere a bit with my day job but nothing some good timekeeping can take care of. Planning on getting enough credits for an early graduation, then I can focus on taking care of business full-time," I replied. "Though that will probably take a few more months."
"Well, if anyone can graduate early, it'll be you," Sam chuckled. I grinned at the vote of confidence, and pulled into the diner's parking lot.
"Just for that, the meal is on me," I said playfully.
"Wow, free food and good company? What did I do to deserve that?" Sam laughed.
"Brown-nosing me, obviously," I joked. That earned another snort of amusement, and we went inside the place.
"Well, hey there, dearie," an older waitress in her fifties said fondly when she spotted me. "How are you today? I see you brought a friend with you."
"Morning, Meredith," I said in greeting. "Yeah, this is my friend, Sam. And since we were nearby, I thought, 'why not introduce him to my favorite waitress?'"
"You charmer, you," she said with a smile. "Sit wherever you like, I'll be by soon with menus."
"She seems to know you," Sam noted as I led him to a booth. "Come here often?"
"Yup. The diner is close to the warehouses I bought, after all. Plenty of the people working at the potion workshop come here for food, and I like coming here often as well," I replied.
"Good food, then?"
"Nah, kinda average. But it's close by, cheap, and has huge portions," I admitted. "Though I'd avoid the scrambled eggs, if I were you. They're more salt than egg."
"Thanks for the warning," Sam said with a wince.
When the waitress came back, they ordered full platters of pancakes and hashbrowns. No eggs. It was a bit late for pancakes – or early, depending on your opinion – but they were adults and could eat what they wanted!
When they'd finished eating and chatting for a bit, the duo got up, paid, left behind a generous tip, and left. It was then back into the car so they could go home.
"Gotta say, this was nice," I said to Sam as the light I was waiting on turned green. "Any reason we can't go and do this later this week?"
"Can't think of anything," Sam replied. "Oh, hey, my mom wanted to know if you wanted to stop by for dinner some time."
"Yeah, sure, I'd be glad…" I started to speak, but something abruptly slammed into the driver's side of my car as I pulled up into the intersection, and we were sent skidding across the road with a screech of rubber and metal before coming to a stop with the front tires mounting the sidewalk and kissing a bus stop bench while cracks violently fissured across the window next to me and the windshield.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT?!" Sam screamed, having ducked down as he tried to protect his body.
"Shit! Fucking shit!" I shouted, glaring furiously out the cracked windshield. That other car had come out of nowhere, trying to T-bone us! If I hadn't reinforced my car's body with multiple runic arrays after I'd bought it, then we'd have been dead!
'And even with the runes, the car still got pretty badly dinged up,' I thought as I surveyed the damage. The windows on my side were so badly cracked I couldn't even see out of them, and the door to the driver's seat had buckled inwards slightly. The hood had popped up and gases were seeping from the engine, and there was a lot things that'd gotten thrown about in the back seat, my backpack and school books scattered everywhere.
It seemed like an accident, yet I couldn't help but start thinking paranoid thoughts. Had this been an assassination attempt? Was somebody after my life?
I immediately unbuckled myself while Sam fumbled with the door. His side of the car was undamaged and he scrambled out, and I followed him. We shakily stood there, just staring at the damage, and as car horns blared and sirens screamed in the distance, I looked at the car that'd rammed my Volkswagen.
It was a completely plain and nondescript forest green car. A Honda, if I wasn't mistaken, though it was hard to tell given how completely it had gotten smashed up against my magically reinforced vehicle. The front of the car had crumpled up like a tin can, the windshield was gone, and the driver… well, he was dead. The steering wheel had crushed his chest and the glass turned his face into a bloody mess.
At my side, Sam vomited at the sight, and it was only through Occlumency I resisted the urge to follow suit. There were other people at the scene, screaming and shouting and running about like headless chickens. Some bystanders had rushed inside the various buildings to call the police and an ambulance, and a few minutes of anxiously waiting later, a medical vehicle was the first to arrive.
The paramedics didn't cause a fuss as they got out and surveyed the scene. Instead, they set about checking over Sam and I.
"Follow my finger," one of the men who'd ridden in the ambulance ordered and I obeyed, following it slowly. He seemed satisfied after a moment, nodding a bit and putting his hand down.
"You seem fine," he said. "Do you feel like you need a ride to the hospital to check for whiplash or anything?"
"No, but I suppose it's better to make sure," I said, and the paramedic nodded at that before heading over to check on Sam.
When it was clear Sam was just as fine as I was, the paramedics worked with the other emergency personnel who'd showed up and began to extract the corpse from the car that'd rammed up.
"Okay, boys, are you two feeling up for a quick talk?" a police officer asked, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
"Sure," I said, Sam agreeing silently at my side with a nod.
"Let's go over what happened," the bobby requested, flipping a notebook open. "What happened?"
"My friend and I had just finished lunch at the diner over there," I said, pointing to the place. "We were driving across the road when the car came screaming down the road out of nowhere."
"And was the light on your end green?" he asked.
"It was," I confirmed. "Plenty of witnesses can confirm that."
"Wasn't insinuating anything, kid," the cop claimed. "Anyways, what next?"
"Not much. He hit us, we almost flipped over, and then we got out and waited for help to arrive," I shrugged.
"Damn lucky couple of kids," the policeman said, eyeing my mostly undamaged car. "Surprised to see your car held up so well, too."
"German engineering strikes again," I said as an attempt to both joke and deflect suspicions away from my car. Thankfully, it seemed to work as the cop just snorted and nodded.
"Right. Stay here for a bit, I want to ask some questions to the other people nearby."
I nodded in understanding, and glanced at Sam who was looking down at his feet.
"You…" I began, about to ask 'are you okay?' but cut myself off before I could ask something that stupid. Of course he wasn't okay! He'd just survived a car crash and was shaken up about the whole thing!
Instead of asking anything, I patted him on the shoulder and steered him away from the wreck to a bench. We sat down silently, and just watched everything scurry around. A pair of tow trucks eventually arrived and hauled both cars off.
"This is gonna raise my premiums," I said with a self-deprecating chuckle as I finished informing a cop about my insurance and personal contact information a little bit later.
"Heh, probably will," the bobby snorted. "Alright, that's everything. You two kids stay safe, alright?"
"Thanks, we will," I told him, and he walked off, his duty done.
Sam and I kept sitting on the bench for a bit longer, not wanting to get up and do anything. My car had been towed, most of the glass and metal from the other vehicle had been cleaned up, and for the most part, things were slowly returning to normal. As quickly as the accident had happened, so too did the city and its people get over it.
Glancing at Sam, I could tell it would take a bit longer for him to recover. Not wanting to disturb him, I was content to let Sam sit there, but we both had things to do today, and after a bit I decided that trying to ignore the problem was a bad idea.
"Do you want to go to the hospital, Sam?" I asked quietly, concerned about how quiet he was being.
"Maybe?" he said hesitantly. "I don't feel like I got hurt. Do you think I should?"
"Well, since you are… different now," I said, side-stepping any mentions of magic while we were out in public. "Things like that won't hurt you as much. Naturally born ones like my brother can fall from over a dozen feet and just bounce without so much as a scratch. These are also the people who think playing a sport with iron cannon balls chasing them is fun. A car crash shouldn't be anything to worry about, even if you're only like me."
"I see," he muttered, before taking a deep breath. "Then, no. I want… no, I need to talk to my family."
"Okay?" I said slowly. "Let's find a cab, then."
The bus that was scheduled for the stop we were sitting at pulled up, and I paused. "Actually, let's take the bus since it's already here."
Riding away from the scene of the accident was unpleasant, but I could see Sam's shoulders slowly relax as we left it behind. The tension returned a bit later as soon as we reached Sam's parent's house, though.
"Sam! We didn't expect to see you over here today!" Mrs. Parson called out, happily surprised to see her son enter the house. "And Ed, how are you?"
"I'm okay, thanks for asking," I said politely.
"Mom," he said slowly. "Are dad and Kate here?"
"They are. Kate's in her room, and your father is fiddling around in the garage on something or another. Is everything okay?" Mrs. Parson asked.
"Yeah, I just… I have something to tell all of you," Sam said. "Ed and I got into a car accident earlier."
"Oh, my baby! Are you okay?!" she gasped, rushing over to him.
"We're okay, the car got banged up worse than we did," Sam assured her.
"I'll get your father!" she exclaimed and ran off to fetch him. Sam wandered into the living room and sank down onto the couch, sighing a little.
"Can you get Kate?" he asked me, and I nodded, walking upstairs to fetch his sister.
"Kate?" I called out, knocking on her door.
"Ed?" she uttered in surprise when she answered. "What are you doing here?"
"Sam and I got into a car accident, and he's downstairs right now," I explained. "He wanted to talk with you and your parents."
"Oh, geez!" Kate exclaimed, hurrying down to talk with her brother, and I followed her.
When we got back to the living room, Sam had his mom and dad already looking him over.
"You're sure you're fine?" Mr. Parson asked, and Sam grinned weakly.
"Yeah. But that's not why I wanted to talk to you guys," he said.
"You can tell us anything," Mrs. Parson promised him, and Sam
"Well, my life sorta flashed before my eyes," he admitted. "And I realized afterwards that I didn't want to leave things the way they are. I didn't want to die without telling you guys something."
"What is it?" Mr. Parson asked.
Sam opened his mouth to respond, but closed it, frowning. "I didn't think it'd be so hard," he muttered. He took a deep breath, and then finally got what he wanted to say out.
"Everyone, I'm…"
"You're a poof!" Kate gasped, interrupting him. "I knew it!"
"Language!" Mrs. Parson snapped, scolding her daughter, who cringed a bit.
"Oh! Uh, sorry, Sam," she apologized.
"You're not entirely wrong," Sam said with a weak chuckle. "I'm actually… oh, this is harder than I thought…"
He took a deep breath. "I'm not a man. I'm a woman, trapped in a man's body."
"You what?" Mr. Parson uttered, bewildered while Kate let out an "Ahhh, of course!"
"But you have a girlfriend," Mrs. Parson said with a frown. "We've met her."
"Tonks is… I honestly don't know what we are. I like her, and she understands that I'm not really a traditional guy, so to speak."
"Well, I don't care," Kate declared, hugging Sam. "I'm just glad you're okay!"
She then grinned. "And hey, I guess this means you're my big sister, right? We can go shopping together!"
Mr. and Mrs. Parson shared a look with each other. They clearly weren't as understanding as Kate was. Old fashioned prejudices and sensibilities died hard, after all. But they didn't immediately condemn him, so I was quietly hopeful for Sam.
A few seconds they both approached my best friend and began to quietly talk with him. From the tiny and relieved smile on Sam's face, I knew he'd be just fine. I grinned a little at that and quietly saw myself out, letting Sam speak with his family.
'Well, I think Sam will manage to work thing out with his family,' I thought as I left the Parson residence. 'I suppose nearly having died would make him want to come clean to his parents about what his feelings were, and his parents might be more tolerant and accepting knowing they nearly lost their son today.'
'But now, I need to find out if what happened today really was an accident,' I thought grimly to myself, frowning up at the sky. 'No one is going to get away with trying to hurt me or my friends!'
Chapter 67: Chapter 67: Unfortunate Events
Chapter Text
Chapter 67: Unfortunate Events
"And there we go," I muttered to myself as I finished drawing the alchemical sigils onto the floor. Made from Delilah's blood mixed with potent magical reagents, the ritual transmutation circle was finally ready to turn my girlfriend from a Squib into a proper witch.
"Is it ready yet?" Delilah asked me, and I glanced over at her.
"You know, you don't have to be naked right now," I told her, even as I admired the view. She was completely nude, arms folded across her chest as she watched me work. Tribal tattoo-like sigils had been drawn on her skin using the same ingredients the array itself was made of.
"I thought it'd be funny," she said with a teasing smile.
"Well, I'm not complaining," I chuckled. "And yes, I'm done. All you have to do is stand in the middle and I'll trigger the ritual with the catalyst. Don't leave the circle, whatever happens, okay? I'll be with you the entire time."
"I trust you," Delilah replied as she stepped over the intricate ritual array I'd spent hours making, delicately avoiding stepping on any lines or symbols.
Giving it a final look-over, I nodded to myself before pulling out a bottled potion and handed it to her. She drank it, and the magic within it infused her. The ritual circle reacted, just like it had with Sam, and began to glow bright white. Unlike with Sam, however, the whole thing flashed, and when the light faded, the magical ink on Delilah had vanished.
"Did you feel anything?" I asked anxiously.
"Um, no?" she replied, looking down at herself. "Should I have?"
"Hmm. Sam said his skin tingled a little. Perhaps its because you already have a higher amount of magic inside of you it didn't feel as weird?" I mused.
"We'll need to find a way to do this without getting naked," Delilah said as she walked away from the site of the ritual. The array itself was gone, leaving a scorched circle behind, and the air had a bit of static in it, but nothing else looked to have changed, which was good.
"And without directly applying the transmutation sigils," I agreed. If we wanted to make everyone in the world into mages, it simply wouldn't be feasibly to do so with a ritual that needed such strict requirements. Couldn't exactly ask everyone to strip and paint themselves, could I?
"Something to look into," Delilah noted. "So, how are things? It's been a few days since the crash."
"Ah, things are okay," I said. "My car insurance isn't holding me accountable at least. Plenty of evidence shows that the other guy was at fault. Repairing the car was pretty easy, too. A few Reparospells from Remus and Sirius and it was good as new! Had to pay for a few new runes to be engraved, though. Turns out you can't fix runes with the Repair charm."
"That's good. How's Sam doing?" Delilah asked. She liked him as much as I did. He was a good cook and a better friend.
"Sam's still a bit… shaken up," I said. "Though his family is helping him through it."
"I'm glad things seem to be going well with Sam and his family," Delilah said. "I was worried he might be… well, it doesn't matter what I thought might happen. It didn't."
"Yeah, I'm happy for him," I agreed. "They seem a little confused, and I don't think they really understand what it means to be transexual. Pretty sure they just think he's batting for the other team, so to speak. But no big issues so far."
I sighed. "Shame it had to come out like this. I know Sam wanted to talk about this, but not so soon. After he graduated cooking school, at least. The accident pushed the date up."
"Mm. Yes. I found out a bit about the man, by the way. His name was Simon Patridge," Delilah said as she pulled her clothes on.
"So, any idea who that guy was?" I asked. "I know you said you'd take care of it when we last spoke, but…"
"No, as far as I was able to dig up, he was just a regular person," Delilah said. "However, I'm rather suspicious of the 'official records.'"
"Why is that?" I inquired, curious.
"He was too clean," she stated. "Simon Partridge was a completely ordinary man in his thirties who lived alone in a flat near downtown London, had a squeaky-clean record, and worked as a manager at a retail shoe store. No living relations, and no connections to anybody who might want you hurt. He owned the Honda he was driving when he ran into you, and the autopsy's tox-report came back negative, so he wasn't on any substances at the time."
"Seems normal enough," I said. "Though the lack of relatives is sorta suspicious. What else seemed off about it?"
"For one, his record was too clean," Delilah claimed. "He could be just a law-abiding citizen, but everybody has something. Even I have a few notes about some dumb stuff I did in school. Smoking cigarettes and ditched class, shoplifted a few trinkets, you know. Small things to piss my dad off since he was kinda shit to me and mom."
"I wonder what my records say about me?" I mused, mildly curious.
I probably looked rather odd myself. My mother didn't exist in any government database or census, I hadn't been adopted or anything like that, either. As far as the British Government knew, I'd just appeared when I was thirteen, according to the forged paperwork Mr. Archibald had gotten me. I assume he managed to do a bit more than the bare minimum, but I wasn't sure. Nobody had tried to arrest me for being an illegal alien, though, and I did have a British ID and social security number equivalent.
I then shook my head, and looked at Delilah. "Keep me updated?"
"Of course. And I'll do more digging, see if I can find out anything regarding his finances. That might help narrow some things down for us," she said. She then leaned over and kissed my cheek. "See you."
"See you," I replied.
111 &&&&& 111
"That should do it," I said, withdrawing the needle from Harry's arm. He rubbed the spot, smearing a smidge of my Wiggenwald Cream on it as I filled up some tiny glass containers with the blood I'd just extracted.
I carefully put the vials containing Harry's red life juice into a safe containing a preservation enchantment that I used to store my important perishables, like rare potion ingredients and elixirs.
After the events in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry's blood had contained traces of both phoenix tears and basilisk venom, two incredibly rare substances. And while there was a decent amount of the latter in Harry's vault thanks to the deal he'd cut with the Ministry and goblins, the former was pretty much impossible to get ahold of.
Hence the fact I'd been drawing blood from Harry thrice a month, and then using Alchemy to separate the foreign materials from it. Thanks to that, I now had a small stock of phoenix tears and basilisk venom for my own use. It wasn't much, just a couple drops, a scant few milliliters of both, but when I found a way to make my own Philosopher's Stone that quantity issue would be solved.
"So, are you ready for school?" I asked. I'd be taking him to the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, and I hoped he was ready for his third year. Nothing as ridiculous as the Ministry unleashing Dementors should happen, but this was Harry Potter. Things were gonna get weird around him no matter what.
"Yeah, I can't wait," Harry confirmed. Inky handed him some cookies and milk which he happily took. "And I'm excited for Mr. Lupin to be teaching me!"
"Don't expect him to treat you differently," I warned.
"I wouldn't want it any other way!" Harry assured me.
"Good. Have your penpal correspondences also been going well?" I wondered. He'd been communicating with Gabirelle via owls ever since France, just like Delilah and I did with Fleur. He'd also started sending owls to some other person. Apparently, they'd met in one of the many broom stores in the U.S.? Whatever the case, they'd been exchanging a lot of parchment about Quidditch and flying. Harry was such a broom nerd. It was cute.
"It's great! Victor said he got accepted onto his team! They loved his flying!" Harry said.
'I swear that name sounds familiar,' I thought to myself before dismissing it.
"And anything from Gabi?" I asked, waggling my eyebrows. He huffed but reluctantly nodded.
"She said her year at Beauxbatons was fun. Not nearly as exciting as mine, though."
"I don't think anyone could have a year as 'exciting' as yours," I drawled. He just shrugged, desensitized by his own near-death experiences.
"Well, I'm done here," I said as Inky cleaned up the place. "Anything you want to do together on your last day in London?"
"We could see a movie," he suggested. "And have dinner after."
"You know, I have just the movie in mind," I said with a grin. "How do you feel about seeing Jurassic Park?"
He looked intrigued and nodded and I went to look up the show times in theatres near us.
Harry loved it. Obviously. Who didn't like dinosaurs? And the animatronics and special effects still held up! A few tears of nostaligia even wetted my eyes, which I managed to brush away without anybody noticing.
"That was fun! But I could have taken 'em," Harry declared as we walked out of the theatre, a wide smile on his face.
"I bet you could," I agreed. He'd beaten a basilisk and, in the books, a dragon. Not even a T-Rex would be a match for him.
"So, where do you want to eat tonight?" I asked.
Before he could answer, a tingling sensation struck my left hand, and I tensed up as the source of the feeling was coming from one of my rings, specifically the one on my index finger. It was silver inlaid with turquoise, and was the Danger Sense ring I'd gotten in the U.S. that alerted the wearer when somebody with hostile intent was focusing their attention onto them. And right now, my finger was practically buzzing!
"Hey, Harry," I said. "I need to use the bathroom. Do you?"
When he turned to look at me, I discreetly gestured to my Danger Sense ring. I'd told him about what it could do, and he knew what it meant when I was pointing to it.
"Sure," he said with a nod, and we began to walk around, trying to find a place that we could duck into. I spotted a public bathroom across the way, and made a beeline for it.
As we walked, I took careful glances in the windows and other reflective surfaces nearby. It wasn't the best option since it was getting dark out, but I managed to catch flashes of a pair of men prowling in my wake.
They weren't dressed up and looked like regular Joes, but their eyes were sharp and never wavered from us, and they kept their hands at their pockets.
In addition, there was a black car slowly driving by. It seemed like it was trying to find a spot to park on the street, but thanks to the ring I could tell the driver's eyes were locked onto me. It looked normal, but I saw a few things that stood out. Namely, the tree shaped hood ornament, and a bobblehead on the dashboard. Both were relatively easy identifying markers to remove, though, so even if somebody did get suspicious about the car, it wouldn't matter.
When we reached the public bathroom, I made a show of stopping outside the door and bending over to tie my shoelaces. While I did so, I removed a pair of Stunner Ofuda to take out the men.
We were a bit too out in the open to act freely, though, so Harry and I stepped into the bathroom. A quick glance around revealed the place was empty, and I ushered my young companion into a nearby stall while I took up a spot behind the door.
When the two men entered – slowly so as not to arouse suspicions of any passersby – I flung the talisman at them, and the dropped like rocks as the paper slips stuck to them.
That was easier than I'd feared, but I didn't want to risk it, so I approached them and carefully checked their pockets. I found a few unpleasant things in there, including a photograph of me taken as I was leaving my apartment, and two guns. There was also a bunch of tattoos on their arms that looked a lot like insignias. Ex-military? Or perhaps they were gang symbols?
I frowned. These weren't just random thugs like the ones who tried to go after me and Delilah on Valentine's Day, they were armed and trained!
'Just like the bloody arseholes who went after her at Christmas,' I realized. They were sort of dressed the same, carried the same types of weapons and drove the same style of cars. And while that didn't exactly prove anything definitively, it was suspicious if nothing else.
"Is it over?" Harry asked as he emerged from the stall he'd been hiding in.
"Harry, call Dobby," I ordered. When he looked at me in worry, I resisted the urge to snap at him. He didn't deserve that. "Please, Harry."
He nodded, and did as I requested, uttering Dobby's name. A second later the House Elf popped into existence next to him.
"Mister Harry called for Dobby?" the floppy-eared guy asked. Instead of answering, Harry looked back at me.
"You'll be following behind me, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, just gonna make sure they don't try to follow us," I assured him, and Harry nodded before taking Dobby's hand.
"Can you take me home, Dobby?" he requested, and a moment later they vanished, leaving me alone in the bathroom.
"Inky," I called out, and my loyal House Elf appeared. He gave the public bathroom a disgusted look before turning his attention to me.
"Does Master need Inky to clean this place?" he asked hopefully.
"No. Maybe later, or you can do it on your free time," I replied. "I need you to tell Remus and Sirius some people were following me."
The House Elf looked down at the two men at my feet. "Want Inky to send them over?"
"No, I want the two to be ready to receive guests in Castle Black's dungeons," I replied. "After you tell them, pop these men down there. Oh! And there was a third guy driving a car. It was black, had a tree shaped hood ornament, and a bobblehead doll of some kind on the dash."
I paused as I remembered a minor issue. "Um, you have been given permission to enter the castle, right?"
"No, but Inky can give the prisoners to Kreacher," Inky said, his expression twisting a little in distaste as he mentioned the cantankerous House Elf serving Sirius.
"Well, he'll probably like that," I muttered. There was something wrong with that elf. More so than was usual for House Elves, at least.
Inky nodded, unable to deny my assertion, before popping away to deal with my requests, taking the pair of goons on the floor with him. I decided to use the toilet while I waited, and by the time I was drying my hands off, Inky returned, his mission complete.
"Mean men are in the dungeon," Inky informed me. "Kreacher is looking after them."
"Good. And do Sirius and Remus know?"
"They do. Mister Sirius is at the apartment to be with Mister Harry. Mister Remus apologizes that he cannot come, but said he trusts you to do what needs to be done."
"That's a relief, didn't want him to be alone," I said, most to myself, before turning to Inky. "Alright, take me back as well."
A disorienting pop later, and I was standing in my apartment's living room, blinking the spots out of my vision.
"Forgot to close your eyes, eh?" Sirius said with a knowing smirk. He was sitting on the couch with Harry, the latter of whom looked relieved to see me.
"Yeah, going from dim rooms to bright ones is always a pain in the butt," I grunted.
"Well, we never got to eat dinner, so how about some take out?" I suggested, and Harry nodded, still a bit subdued due to the threat we'd just narrowly escaped from.
A call to a nearby Chinese place later, and we were happily munching on wontons and Crab Rangoon.
"Who were those people?" Harry asked.
"No idea," I said with a helpless shrug.
"Kreacher will find out," Sirius said grimly. "I don't like him, but he knows some old tricks to get people to talk."
"I want to feel sorry for 'em, but they had guns and tried to kidnap us, so I'm not gonna shed any tears," I replied. "Just don't break them too badly. And make sure they're alive by the end, too. We'll wipe their minds and leave them somewhere after we get what we want out of them."
"I told Kreacher the exact same thing," Sirius nodded, before shivering. "He was very… happy."
"By the way, where's Remus?" I wondered, trying not to think about a happy Kreacher.
"Think he had a date with Madam Bones," Sirius replied. "Spending time with her and Susan, before the lass heads back to Hogwarts."
"Oh," I muttered, blinking a bit. "Then I should be expecting a visit from the Aurors soon?"
If Madam Bones had been near Remus when Inky had arrived to deliver the message, then that was a likely outcome. Inky's message hadn't been too explicit, or so I hoped, but one didn't become the head of a Ministry department, especially not the Magical Law Enforcement one, by being unable to pick up on subtext and other subtle clues.
'That was what I'd do if I was Madam Bones and I'd overheard some insinuations about men trying to kidnap the Boy Who Lived,' I thought to myself.
Sirius just nodded with a wince, and I resisted sighing out loud.
"Well, I was expecting that to happen eventually. Better it happen because of something like this than due to suspicions about me breaking the Statute," I grumbled.
"Yeah, probably don't bring that up around her," Sirius suggested.
Just as predicted, a stern knock on the door rang out, and I shared a look with the animagus and Boy Who Lived before walking over and answering it.
"Good evening," I said politely. That was the proper response when coming face-to-face with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, an auror, and a sheepish Remus.
'At least the auror Madam Bones grabbed isn't likely to be a problem,' I thought to myself, hiding the relief I felt upon seeing it was Tonks. She recognized me as well if the widening of her eyes was any indicator.
"Where is Harry Potter?" Madam Bones demanded.
I just stepped aside so she could see past me into the apartment, where Harry was sitting at the dining room table. He waved at her with his chopsticks, and a flicker of relief passed over her face before she swept inside, her wand out.
"May I perform a check-up?" she asked Harry.
"Okay," he said, swallowing his mouthful of fried rice.
A quick wave of her wand and some flashing lights, and she relaxed a bit more when nothing negative popped up from her scan.
"I assumed the worst when a House Elf appeared in front of Remus to warn him about a kidnapping attempt on your life, young man," she said. "And Susan was very distraught as well."
"I'm sorry to worry you both," Harry said.
"It wasn't your fault," I told the younger boy, patting his shoulder.
"Do you know who these men were?" Madam Bones demanded.
"Not at all," I replied. "Never seen them before in my life."
Harry nodded in agreement, same as Sirius.
"I see," she hummed. There was a note of suspicion I n her voice. She knew we weren't telling the whole story, but wasn't sure what we were hiding.
"If you do find out anything regarding these kidnappers, inform me post-haste," she instructed us, before turning around and walking out. She Apparated away when she was gone from my apartment and the wards within, leaving Remus and Tonks behind.
"I should go. See you at Hogwarts, Harry," Remus said, leaving to follow after Madam Bones, and soon only the Metamorph was left.
"Hey, there, I'm Auror Tonks, and I'm just here to get your statements," the trainee auror said, fetching a quill and parchment. "Procedure, ya know?"
"Of course, of course, Nymphadora!" Sirius replied, a teasing tone in his voice. She grimaced at his use of her given name.
"Witness Sirius Black smelled like wet dog as he prepared to give his statement," Tonks said as her quill automatically wrote out what she'd said.
"Low blow," he grumbled.
"Where were you, and what were you doing when you first noticed these people?" the bubblegum-haired auror inquired.
"They were following us after we left the movie theatre," Harry informed her. "We'd just seen Jurassic Park and were planning to get dinner afterwards."
"Oh, neat, I've wanted to see that one ever since Sam told me about it!" she said, before coughing awkwardly.
"Continuing on! What did the suspects look like?" Tonks inquired, looking at Harry.
"Um, there were two of them on the sidewalk trailing us, and they had dark clothes on. Not quite suits, but better than run-of-the-mill outfits from a mall outlet," Harry replied, thinking back to the event in question. "There was also a third following us in a car. I think one of the people on the sidewalk had brown hair, and the other had red."
"These were Muggles, then?" she asked, having figured that part out quickly based on our descriptions of their attire and the inclusion of a motor vehicle.
"I didn't stop to ask them," Harry replied, a note of sarcasm in his voice.
"Alright, cheeky guy," Tonks grunted in amusement. "Anything else?"
"They had guns," he informed her.
"And how did you get away?" Tonks wondered.
"We hid in a nearby bathroom and snuck away when they weren't looking," Harry lied. Sort of. House Elf assisted teleportation counted as sneaking away. And they were unconscious, so they couldn't exactly look at us, could they?
"Okay… one final question: do you know where these men are right now?" Tonks inquired, looking up at us as she did so.
"We left them in the bathroom when we gave 'em the slip," I said, and she glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.
"You were there?"
"I was with Harry at the time, yes," I confirmed.
"I see… and you are?"
"Edward Rose," I said.
"He is Harry Potter's guardian when in the Muggle World over summer breaks," Sirius spoke up. "I trust him, and have the paperwork attesting to such available if you want a copy for the records."
"That won't be necessary," Tonks replied. "In order to not cause any confusion, it's better that Mr. Rose's name not appear on any documents."
"Because I'm a Squib," I guessed.
"Yeah, that too," Tonks agreed. She then rolled up her report and put away the quill. "Have a good evening, folks. Good luck in Hogwarts, Harry!"
The auror left my apartment and only when I heard the 'Pop!' of Apparition did I allow myself to sigh.
"I'm surprised that went so well," I muttered.
"Same. And it sounded like Tonks wasn't gonna ask too many questions, either," Sirius commented.
"Think it's because she's dating Sam?" Harry wondered.
"Probably. I'll have to give him my thanks later. But I have a question for you, Sirius: am I really Harry's guardian when he lives in London?" I asked.
"Absolutely," Sirius nodded. "Never lie about paperwork. Way too easy to double-check that."
"How can I be a guardian, though?" I wondered in confusion.
"There's two types of guardians," Sirius explained. "Magical, and Muggle. Unless you have a magical parent, the former is usually the Headmaster if the person is an underaged Muggleborn attending Hogwarts. The Muggle guardian is usually the non-magical parents or close relatives. Since I'm not cruel enough to put Harry under the control of his aunt and uncle, I pushed a few galleons around the Ministry to change the Muggle guardianship from them to you."
"Oh. Thank you. I'd have liked to know that sooner, though," I commented.
"The paperwork only got finished a few days ago. Was gonna break it to you eventually, but I kinda forgot until now," Sirius admitted, rubbing the back of his head.
I rolled my eyes at him and his forgetfulness, but couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him for the kindness.
"Guess we really are like brothers now, huh, Harry?" I said, looking over at him, and Harry grinned widely.
"I guess so!" he said happily. From the size of his smile, I don't think he minded all that much.
"Come on, let's finish the food before it gets cold!" Sirius suggested, and I sat back down at the table.
I still had the feeling something was off, and that I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but there wasn't anything I could do about it.
'I will ensure that Harry will stay safe, and so will my friends and family,' I promised myself.
Whoever those men had been, I would discover their identities, and the mastermind behind them would suffer!
Chapter 68: Chapter 68: The Fallen Crown
Chapter Text
Chapter 68: The Fallen Crown
Remus POV
"Twirl! Twirl, I say, damn you!" a man with a rather falsetto voice called out. A grunt was his only response, followed by a loud fart.
Remus did his best to ignore the noises being made by a madman and his ballet troupe of trolls as he followed the instructions Edward Rose had given him before boarding the train to Hogwarts, and quietly thought about how his life had led him to this moment.
The werewolf who'd been hired as a teacher at Hogwarts was currently pacing back and forth on the 7th floor corridor across from a painting of a man trying to teach trolls to dance ballet, all in an effort to enter a place called the Room of Requirement.
'Ravenclaw's Diadem. Ravenclaw's Diadem. Ravenclaw's Diadem!' he thought to himself, repeating this mantra in his head.
According to Edward, these actions were part of a ritual that would lead to a secret room here that would take him to one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. After arriving at Hogwarts, and recovering from the unpleasantness of the Full Moon earlier, it had taken Remus a week to plan the whole thing out. He had needed to learn the staff's schedules, the class schedules, where students were most likely to be depending on the time of day, and a whole host of other things to prepare. Including paying a visit to the Weasley Twins who possessed the Marauders Map.
It was currently midnight on a Sunday, most people in the castle were asleep as they prepared for the next round classes in the morning, and after checking the map a few times, nobody was near the 7th Floor corridor.
Finally, his pacing was rewarded by the appearance of a door out of the corner of his eye in the wall where previously none had been.
'It seems Edward was right once more,' Remus thought to himself as he opened the door.
He stepped through and found himself in a small room that was decorated in blue and black, the colors of Ravenclaw. Banners bearing the raven of Rowanda along with shields marked with her heraldry were hung from the walls. A bookshelf and writing desk covered in fancy tomes sat on the left while a broom and robe hung on a coatrack.
Last, but certainly not least, was a stone plinth at the very center of the study, atop of which rested a bust depicting the intellectual founder of Hogwarts. On the carved brow was a silver diadem, simple and beautiful with no ostentatious jewels. He could pick it up and put it on... learn the secrets of Ravenclaw...
Remus pinched himself with a grimace and raised his Occlumency shields before taking another step, and closed the door to the Room of Requirement behind him.
Waving his wand, he cast diagnostic spell after diagnostic spell into the room. There were many enchantments active, keeping everything as pristine as they'd been when Ravenclaw herself had placed them here. However, on the plinth there were a few alarms and traps. Nothing major, but they could be problematic if triggered.
On the diadem itself, there was nothing. Not even a spark of residual magic. And that in and of itself was suspicious. Some sort of spell, even just a cleaning charm, should have been put onto it. Yet it was as mundane as a plastic tiara from a Muggle costume store. Or so Remus' scans told him. He didn't trust it at all, because the Dark Lord had been a cruel and terrible man with some cleverness in him.
Remus did not dare get any closer, lest the Horcrux detect him. He wasn't sure about how the accursed thing worked, nor he de care to, but he was going to take every caution possible. Barriers and cleansing spells lashed out from his wand as he filled the room with protections to negate Dark magic, and multiple charms on himself to block various curses. Last but not least, several layers of Sound Canceling charms placed onto the room itself.
When this was done, he lifted a bottle of basilisk venom from his pocket, given to him by Edward. He knew exactly how the Squib had acquired it. Using alchemy to extract it from Harry's blood had been an inspired move, and it gave them a weapon against the Horcrux.
The acidic venom of the King of Serpents was resistant to magic and corrosive towards enchantments, so was perfect for eliminating cursed objects. He knew the goblins and Curse Breakers used the stuff to tear down wards on ancient tombs, and they'd bought the venom from Harry's spoils of war at a massive premium.
Finally, Remus patted the necklace he wore around his neck, where a potent protective charm hung. Made of unicorn horn and hair, it would protect the user from any possession. Reassured it was still there, he began to walk towards the diadem.
The whispers started immediately, and he winced as they tried influence him. If not for his Occlumency barriers, he wouldn't have even noticed them, they were so quiet and insidious. They sounded like people he knew and loved. Sirius. Harry. Even Edward. They urged him to put the crown on. To gain its powers and use them to protect everything he cared for.
But he resisted, knowing that the whispers were lies. Voldemort would not claim him!
The voices that tickled his mind did not try to do anything else to him, so far as he could tell. They were a passive defense, using his own thoughts and memories against him. A clever trick, one that'd be able to defeat somebody unaware of the dangers they posed. And after suffering the mental attacks, Remus finally reached the altar and stared down onto the crown.
Nobody knew what the Diadem of Ravenclaw could do. Not even Edward. Some believed it could grant impenetrable Occlumency barriers. Others said it was able to bestow the ability to use Legilimancy upon the wearer. Whatever its powers were, they were now going to be lost forever.
A part of Remus did feel regret for having to destroy a priceless artifact, something the whispers tried to capitalize on, but the werewolf knew that any and all blame for this lay on Voldemort, and no one else!
He uncorked the vial of venom and poured it onto the diadem, ensuring that as much as possible dribbled onto the Horcrux.
The moment a single drop of acid green liquid fell onto the crown, the screaming started. Horrific howls of psychic rage and fear slammed against Remus, and he staggered back a step, almost dropping the vial.
His Occlumency shields flexed and bent, but held, and he refused to tear his eyes away from the sight before him. The basilisk venom started to melt through the silvery metal, like boiling water poured onto an ice cube. Wisps of steam and black smoke, which Remus suspected were traces of Voldemort's soul, began to rise up.
Multicolored sparks began to spit out as the basilisk venom began to interact with the various enchantments layered upon the stone bust. White light flared up around Remus' body as well as the tendrils of darkness leaking from the silver headgear tried to touch him, but were repelled by the unicorn talisman. A couple seconds later, a twisted, disfigured face formed within the final puff of smoke, before vanishing with a screech.
For a few moments Remus just stood there, staring, before he flicked his wand. This time, diagnostic spells reported that there was severe damage marring the stone bust and diadem. The alarms and traps were also gone, burnt away by the venom. Said liquid was also gone as well, having evaporated after destroying the diadem and the altar it'd rested on.
And speaking of Ravenclaw's lost diadem, the front portion gone. Any magic it may have held was vanished as well, along with the tainted piece of Voldemort's soul.
"It worked," Remus breathed out, sagging in relief. The Horcrux was gone, and they were one step closer to ending the threat of the Dark Lord once and for all.
With the threat erased, he ventured to the shelf to browse the books on it, curiosity replacing relief.
'The Sorting Hat did suggest I could have gone to Ravenclaw,' Remus thought to himself with a faint hint of nostalgia, mixed with excitement as he browsed the tomes left behind by the legendary witch.
For the most part, the books were handwritten grimoires containing notes on magic. Or so he assumed. Unfortunately, Remus couldn't read any of it. And it wasn't because a Jumble Word jinx had been put on them, but because Rowena Ravenclaw's handwriting was both terrible and in a language he didn't recognize.
Deciding that he'd need to find a translator first and foremost, Remus left the books where they were, but did create a few copies to look over. They wouldn't last long, but the originals weren't going anywhere.
Checking the Marauder's Map carefully before exiting the Room of Requirement, Remus quickly and quietly made his way back to his own quarters, where he scribbled a simple note onto some parchment he would send via owl to Sirius the next morning: 'It is done.'
It would be a while before changes would be noticed, if there would be any at all. And Remus certainly hoped that the curse attached to the Defense position would be broken with the destruction of the Horcrux.
But until then, he had lessons to plan and homework to grade. The work of a teacher was never done.
111 &&& &&& &&& 111
Cyrus POV
"…two tons of wand-grade wood of various types, five tons of broom-grade lumber of various types, six tons of assorted draconic parts, from blood to heart strings, and the usual order of five tons of potion materials," Cyrus said as he read aloud the list of goods Edward Rose had just put in an order for.
It was a lot, and different from what the young businessman typically bought. Expensive, too, but the business-minded Squib was good for it, as Cyrus knew. After all, he'd already delivered a down payment of a quarter of the goods' total costs.
"I wonder what he wants with all these magical materials alongside his usual orders of potion ingredients?" Cynthia wondered as she double-checked the list. "He couldn't possibly be trying to branch out into wandcraft, could he?"
"Unlikely," Cyrus grunted. As ambitious as the Squib was, there was no way Edward Rose would be stupid enough to try and make his own wands and sell them to Muggles. Not that they would even work for the non-magicals, but illegal wands were the quickest way to get the Ministry clamping down on him.
"The request to stockpile medicine was also a curious one," his wife added, looking at the second order sheet that had come in.
That at least made more sense to Cyrus. Dragon Pox vaccines were lifesaving inventions, and there were plenty of other magical sicknesses where medicine could be hard to brew in time, such as Scrofungulus, so large stockpiles were always a good idea. Fatal magical diseases could either kill ridiculously fast, or take years to end a person's life.
'Yet the numbers he is asking for are insane,' Cyrus thought to himself. If Edward Rose were to turn all of the ingredients he'd just purchased into medicine, he'd have enough to inoculate a million people against Dragon Pox and cure a hundred thousand people of a myriad of other diseases. But that was just one order out of several. And there would be more in the future. Cyrus had a gut feeling about it.
What was Edward Rose doing with all of the stuff he was buying?
'The only thing keeping me from tipping off the aurors is that letter,' he thought to himself, thinking back a little bit. He had been very surprised when Harry Potter had sent him a note by owl a couple days ago, asking him to go ahead with any requests Edward Rose made, and to inform Harry himself if Cyrus had any misgivings.
The Boy Who Lived knew Edward Rose. And quite well, it seemed. Enough for him to be in on whatever scheme was being cooked up.
'Could it be Harry Potter is the true hand guiding things?' Cyrus wondered. A part of him, the Pureblood side, wanted to believe that a Squib could never be so successful without a wizard behind him, pulling the strings.
Yet the rational side of him, the one that had long since seen through the lies spouted by the blood purists, dismissed the idea. The evidence that they were working together as equals was strong, and Harry Potter clearly saw the Squib as a friend more than an asset or ally.
'And I don't see Mr. Rose being anybody's subordinate. Not without a damn good reason,' Cyrus mused to himself.
"Dear?" Cynthia called out, stirring Cyrus from his thoughts and he shot his wife an apologetic look.
"My head was in the clouds, I'm afraid," he admitted. "What did you say?"
"I was saying that we may need to start expanding again, and soon," she said. "We'll need more warehouses to hold everything, and unless we want to make more contracts with the Longbottoms, we'll need to increase our own domestic production of multiple types of potion ingredients in order to keep up with everything being asked for. Assuming Mr. Rose continues to buy so much."
"I see," he murmured. "Yes, that makes sense. I'll go take care of it."
"Are you going to finally consider expanding overseas?" Cynthia asked shrewdly.
"You can see right through me," he chuckled. "And yes, most likely. I haven't had much to do with the American side of the Greengrass family in a while, and they've been petitioning me for years to do more with our holdings across the pond."
The Greengrasses – along with all the other Magical Houses who'd had land in the colonies – had not lost control of their assets there during the American Revolution of 1777, as that war had only thrown out the Muggle British authorities. And since the Greengrass's branch family over in the States had sided with the Muggleborn during the Christmas Revolt of 1974 they hadn't lost everything when the MaCUSA's government had changed hands and the conservative Purist faction was overthrown.
Indeed, the Greengrasses of America were doing quite well as one of the few traders with unrestricted access to the European markets since many magical countries were very hesitant to deal with the 'radical upstarts,' and were only limited by the lack of support from the main family over in England at the moment.
"Well, you best go tell your cousin the good news, then, and to start buying up land for new potion ingredient farms!" Cynthia said, shooing him out of the dining room where they'd been enjoying a lovely breakfast before Edward Rose's ridiculous orders had arrived.
He chuckled at his wife, but obeyed, heading up to his personal study to pen a letter. He stroked the feathers of his beloved owl Mortimer while passing by the owl's stand, before sitting down at his desk and getting out his quill and parchment.
Before he could start writing, he was interrupted by an owl bumping into his study's window, and he frowned when he wasn't able to recognize the bird. Opening the window with a flick of his wand, the messenger bird deposited a letter on his desk, and Cyrus rewarded it with a bit of mouse jerky.
He only bothered to open the letter after the owl left – and following several intense scans to check for any sort of traps. Finding none, he read the words within, only to huff.
'Another betrothal request for Astoria,' he grunted. He'd expected as much.
Now that the blood curse on Astoria was gone, he'd begun receiving 'invitations' from 'noble lineages' to have him marry his youngest daughter to their relatives.
'Sharks and vultures, the lot of them,' he scoffed as he tossed the latest betrothal offer into the fireplace. Most of them were from the Dark Faction, and were rude in the extreme, acting like Astoria was broken goods they'd be taking off his hands out of pity. Compared to the way they'd treated her as some sort of plague-bearing beast when she hadn't been cured, it was practically an apology from those sorts of purebloods.
The most insulting one he'd received to date was from Lucius Malfoy, who had made insinuations that his daughter would be the price Cyrus would have to pay if he wanted the current tariff laws being voted on in the Wizengamot to disappear.
Cyrus had burned that letter with gleeful vindictiveness.
'Clearly, Lucius hasn't noticed the moves I've been making in the Grey Faction,' he thought to himself, amused by the former Death Eater's lack of awareness.
He wondered what Malfoy's face would be when he and several other Greys – and a few Light and Darks – suddenly broke away and started a whole new political block, one that was centered around economic recovery and liberal-minded changes to the law, such as shooting down that horrid toad-woman's anti-werewolf bill?
The Gold Faction would arrive on the political scene soon, and with any luck, the Wizengamot would finally bring some measure of progress back to the Isles.
111 &&& * &&& 111
Edward POV
I sneezed a little, rubbing my nose a bit.
"Allergies?" Charlie asked.
"It's too late in the year for that. Must be dust," I replied. "Anyways, sorry about that, I didn't catch that."
"It's fine," Charlie assured me. "I was just asking how you've been."
"Not bad at all," I replied. "Yourself? Any cool dragons in your life?"
He laughed a little. "Funny you should mention that," Charlie said, and he happily told me about the reserves newest addition of a female Norwegian Ridgeback.
I had been surprised when Charlie had approached me out of the blue a couple days after Harry had gone back to Hogwarts.
I had known he'd been in town, partly to see off Ron and the others, but also for a meeting with the Ministry of Magic as a representative for the Romanian Dragon Reserve. And given my future knowledge, I'd had a suspicion about what he was there for. The Tri-Wizard Tournament needed dragons for their ridiculous task next year, after all.
But even though I knew all of this, I had not expected Charlie to ask me to hang out for a bit, so I agreed to meet up with him at the Leaky Cauldron.
Lunch and some drinks later, and the two of us had managed to catch up after not seeing each other for a while.
"…and so he says, 'That's not my broom!'" Charlie said, and I snickered in amusement.
"Oh, jeez! I sure hope the trauma doesn't scar him too badly," I said.
"He was fine after a few drinks. And a bath," Charlie assured me.
"Good to hear," I nodded. Then, after finishing off my mug of butterbeer, I looked at Charlie with a curious look. "So, don't wanna be a downer, but there was another reason to speak with me, wasn't there?"
"Yup, there was," Charlie nodded. He emptied his own mug before revealing what he wanted.
"See, the truth is, my friend recently got fired from her job at the Hog's Head, and well, I was hoping you might have a job for her," Charlie explained.
"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?" I uttered in bewilderment, staring at my old friend.
"Look, I know it's a big thing to ask, but I owe her a favor after she helped me a little while ago," Charlie said. "And I was hoping to introduce her to you in the hopes you might hire her."
"That's what I thought you said," I grunted, running a hand over my face in frustration. "Charlie, I can't just hire anybody for my job. And it sounds like she'd be terrible trying to work in retail, which is the only thing I could offer her."
"She's very talented in potions," Charlie said, still trying to convince me. "As well as Charms. Oh, and she can duel pretty well."
"Charlie," I said slowly. "Why would you think I'd need a potioneer or a duelist?"
"Because you are making potions and illegally selling them, and will need protection because of it," Charlie stated.
"Huh, you know about that?" I asked, surprised, and a little worried.
"Ed, I know you, we grew up together," the dragon tamer said, folding his arms and giving me a stern look. "You'd never have settled for living a normal life. And even without going to Hogwarts, you know more about magic than many graduates! Your 'old fashioned Muggle remedies' are obviously watered down potions."
"And you don't care?" I inquired suspiciously.
"Hell no," Charlie snorted. "I think it's risky, but you're not a fool, and whatever game you are playing at goes beyond merely making money. There's something bigger afoot. Don't know what, but I can tell you're worried about something in the future."
"You're pretty sharp, aren't you, Charlie?" I commented.
"Have to be, in order to keep up with the dragons," Charlie chuckled, before turning serious again.
"Who else knows?" I asked. "Bill? Percy? Your mum or dad?"
"Bill probably suspects, but the others wouldn't have been able to keep quiet about it if they knew," Charlie replied, and I nodded. That made sense, I supposed.
"Can she be discreet about this?" I asked. "Would she spill the beans, so to speak?"
"Merlin, no!" Charlie said with a laugh. "She distrusts the Ministry and the Aurors. Also has a hate for Dark magic and Dark mages. She's a bit rough around the edges but loyal to her friends. So long as you aren't performing blood sacrifices or the like she won't care."
"Hmm. I see," I muttered to myself. "I'm not really comfortable with this, but… fine. I will meet with her. How much does she know about me and my job?"
"She knows you're a Squib, and that's it," he replied. "Please don't take anything she says too seriously, though."
"I don't like the sound of that, Charlie," I said with a grunt, and he laughed awkwardly. "Ugh. Whatever. Does this woman have a name?"
"Merula Snyde," Charlie said, and I blinked, recognizing the name.
"Well, alright, then," I hummed. This might just turn out to be a good thing after all!
Chapter 69: Chapter 69: Hiring a Witch
Chapter Text
Chapter 69: Hiring A Witch
"I like it," I said as I looked around.
Something I had been searching for ever since returning from the U.S. had been a new place to live. I genuinely loved my apartment. It was small but cozy, and I had a lot of pleasant memories there.
But I needed someplace bigger. Safer. More fitting for a man who owned several successful and growing businesses. My old home was good enough for a student, but not anymore.
Scouring the market had led me to a medium-sized apartment complex that had a few penthouses for sale. It was located in downtown London, but was cheaper than some other places I'd visited thanks to the recent economic recession that had swept the country following the collapse of the pound.
The penthouse I was looking at had two-floors with large south-facing windows that led out to a wide deck. Inside, hardwood panels provided a nice, open floor to walk on, with the walls having been freshly painted eggshell white. A skylight let in plenty of sun near the dining room, and the kitchen was nice and big, able to fit a lot more stuff than my old one.
There were four bedrooms, two on the first floor and two on the second, that could fit queen-sized beds and plenty of other furniture. They also had walk-in closets. Only one bedroom on each floor had master suite bathrooms attached, though, but there were two extra bathrooms that could be used by guests.
'Convert one of the spare bedrooms to a workshop or study, keep another as a guest room, and use the living room as a place to put a TV, and this would make a lovely home,' I thought to myself as I walked around, checking everything.
The complex itself wasn't bad, either. It had no pool, but it did have a workout area on the fifth floor, and also included an attached multistory garage for cars. The building wasn't close to any supermarkets, but was very near a bus stop and was a short walk to a train station, making it attractive to people who worked in the area.
However, the real reason I wanted this place was because of the Leyline running past it. Underneath the street right outside was one of the many Leylines that would eventually meet up with the other Leylines in London and form part of the Stone Henge Nexus further north. The power it was able to draw on was considerable, at least for this part of town. Most of the other Leylines were monopolized by the magical folk and their hidden communities, leaving only dregs to draw on for wards and such.
'Still, even being able to access a single percent of the Leyline here would provide more magical power than what my recycling center uses,' I thought to myself.
"I'll take it," I declared with a nod, and the woman who was showing me around smiled politely at my words.
"Wonderful! I'll get you the lease to look over…"
"Ah, sorry, you misunderstood me," I said apologetically. "I'd like to buy the entire apartment building."
The woman blinked at me, then laughed. A polite titter, really, hidden behind a hand, as she clearly thought I was joking.
And to be fair, it was a bit crazy. Who'd buy an entire apartment complex like that? Somebody who cared about his safety and wanted the freedom to slap as many magical defenses onto it, that's who!
Trying to put wards up would be a pain if I did not own the place, because some of the most powerful ones worked off of the concepts of ownership. There was also the fact that the Ministry of Magic hated it when witches and wizards put enchantments onto Muggle buildings unless they were owned by a magical.
'It's also a good investment,' I thought to myself. 'I can put more blatantly magical stuff inside and let the people who know about magic that work for me have a nice place to live as well. The more consolidated everything and everyone is, the safer we will be. And a little extra income never hurt anybody.'
I wouldn't have a better chance to buy something like this any other time, too. With the economy down, and prices not being as absurd as they'd been in the future of my old world, there was no better time to get some prime pieces of real estate.
To prove I was both serious, and I had the means to do so, I made a show of pulling out my checkbook.
"I believe this would be a fair price, given current land values," I said, scribbling out a number with nines zeroes. "Could you inform the owner I wish to talk?"
A secret third reason I had picked this complex was because I knew that the owner was not doing well financially. They'd be eager to sell to somebody they perceived as throwing around oodles of money.
Buying this place would admittedly blow through a hefty chunk of cash, but I'd recover the hit quickly. Not to mention the money I'd be spending wouldn't be mine, but rather a business expense as the apartment complex would end up under the umbrella of my newest corporate entity, Avalon Industries.
Cauldron Remedies, Crucible Security Solutions, Citrine Services, and Waverider International Shipping were being folded together under the auspices of a new company in order to manage them financially. Taxes would go up as a result, but I would be able to get around some annoying zoning laws and restrictions that only applied to small, singular businesses. I'd also be able to reach out overseas more easily in order to buy up what I wanted in America come the bursting of the Dotcom Bubble.
The woman swallowed nervously as she stared wide-eyed at the check but nodded and hurried off to make a call. I smiled to myself. All according to plan.
111 &&& 111
Two days after I bought the apartment complex – the owner had been very willing to sell once it was confirmed I did indeed have the funds – I was back in my office, doing the ever-present bane that was paperwork.
I had a lot of bureaucratic red tape to cut through. The formation of Avalon Industries and clumping my other businesses underneath it was going to be a lengthy process, likely lasting weeks, if not months.
'But at least if I do this, Sir Briar won't be able to exert as much control over what I own and produce,' I bitterly thought to myself.
There was a knock at the door, distracting me from yet another file full of dense legalese and I looked up.
"Enter," I said, and a woman with red hair and glasses opened the door.
"Everything alright, Miss Sparks?" I asked. Scarlett Sparks, one of the werewolves Remus had introduced me to and hired on as part of Crucible Security, adjusted her glasses before replying.
"Your first interview appointment for the day has arrived."
"Earlier than I expected," I hummed. "Punctuality is good, though. Send her in."
"Yes, sir," Scarlett replied and departed to do so.
Scarlett Sparks was a Squib. She'd believed she'd been a Muggle most of her life, up until she'd survived a werewolf bite. The curse had hit her badly, and she'd ended up running away from home to try and deal with it on her own. Remus had found and helped her out during this period, and knowing how much of a softy the Marauder was, I hadn't been surprised to find she was also one of the first people he'd suggested I hire.
Fortunately, Scarlett turned out to be the perfect hire. She was tough and quick-witted, with the will to succeed no matter what life threw at her. Scarlett also had a head for numbers and was quite good at the bureaucratic side of running a security focused organization. These qualities had swiftly allowed her to become Remus' second-in-command within Crucible Security Solutions.
The red-head took her job seriously, and had been keeping an eye out on all the people I personally interviewed ever since there had been an attempt to break into my office during a job interview by said interviewee.
I hadn't found out anything important from that particular person. They claimed to have been hired by somebody to get a copy of my paperwork, but didn't know who. As such I'd simply called the cops on him and had him arrested for breaking and entering.
'Speaking of, I need to follow up on the information Kreacher dug out of the wannabe kidnappers,' I thought to myself.
According to what the House Elf had extracted from the three unfortunately souls, they belonged to the fucking mafia! Locals, not Russians or anything like that, but just as bad. They were organized criminals I had no chance of opposing on my own, not with their patron who'd ordered my capture.
My fists clenched angrily as I thought about what I'd learned. Or rather, who I'd learned was responsible for all of the attacks on me recently.
Sir Jonah Briar, the man in charge of Gladstone Financial, one of the largest investment firms in the whole country, and the man who had helped me get my business started, was behind it all.
The kidnapping of Delilah which had started everything? That was under his orders to get back at Delilah's father for some petty reason. Hiring Marky Fetters to send goons after me? Again, that was Sir Briar. The assholes who kidnapped me right outside the Finch-Fletchley's gates? On Sir Brair's payroll. The attempted hit and run while Sam was in the car with me? Also him. This most recent kidnapping attempt? Him once more.
I was… well, to say I was angry would be an understatement. I was livid. But I could not act. Not yet. I had to build up my powerbase, improve the quantity and quality of magical tools I had access to, and so much more.
Thus, after getting everything we could out of them, Sirius had Obliviated the thugs and dropped them off outside of a pub covered in beer and vomit. They'd think they'd gotten drunk, or drugged, and that would explain why none of them could remember the events of their time in Castle Black's dungeon.
Marky Fetter's contacts in the underworld had helped a bit, and now that I knew who the puppet master was, I could plan accordingly.
'Time to start investigating Sir Briar and figuring out what his deal is. Why is he obsessed with me and my businesses? Surely if he wanted them he could find another way to bully me into handing over my secrets. He controlled a large chunk of Cauldron Remedies after all,' I thought darkly.
I hadn't forgotten that he had been wearing magical rings the first time we'd met. How had he gotten them? Was he a Squib? How much did he know about magic, and was that why he'd gone after me so fiercely? I simply didn't know, but I needed to find out.
For now, though, I had a job interview to conduct, and I straightened my tie and tried to look calm and professional as Scarlett knocked on the door to my office and sent in the first of two young women.
"Hello, Miss Snyde," I said in greeting, standing up and offering her my hand. "Nice to meet you. Charlie's has told me good things about you."
"They were all lies," Merula Snyde huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Unless they were about how much I kick ass. In which case, yeah, they were true."
I took a moment to give the witch a quick look-over. She had short brown hair with a few locks of a lighter shade in front, with brown eyes narrowed at me as she also looked me over. Unlike like too many purebloods, she knew how to dress to blend in with the Muggles, wearing a green jacket over a burgundy shirt, and slightly scuffed blue jeans with old Nike sneakers.
Merula Snyde had been the character of a Hogwarts game set a few years before the events of Harry Potter. Specifically, during the seven years Charlie had been at school. It followed the events of an unnamed protagonist trying to find a bunch of magical McGuffins in order to thwart a plot to overthrow the Ministry by brainwashing all of the corrupt members and to get the former Death Eaters who'd escaped Azkaban their proper punishments.
Unfortunately, like so many things, the good intentions were muddied by a variety of factors and turned to nefarious goals, leading to the death of a lot of people.
In the end, Merula Snyde had helped save the day along with the protagonist, even if the former Slytherin had been inches away from helping her evil aunt commit some nasty deeds. Still, because of her former affiliation the Ministry was, to put it bluntly, wary of her, and had been blacklisted from a lot of jobs Purebloods like her could normally take for granted.
"Charlie mentioned you were good at a couple of things," I admitted. "A good duelist. A potioneer. And something of a firebrand."
"Polite way of saying I was a bitch," Merula huffed. I simply nodded.
"Care to tell me why you agreed to this job interview, then?" I inquired. "Even if you've been recommended by a friend of mine, I can't exactly just hire you on the spot. What makes you a good fit? What can you bring to the table?"
"Well, first, I only did so because Charlie told me to," Merula replied. "He said that it was a better chance I'd get than anywhere in the Magical World, at least. And since I didn't want to go hungry in the coming weeks, I agreed. However, after meeting you, and seeing your eyes… consider me intrigued."
"Intrigued? By what?" I asked.
"The hate in your eyes," she said, voice low. "It is familiar to me."
"And where have you seen eyes like mine before?" I wanted to know.
"I know that look because I see it all the time in the Merlin damned mirror," Merula said, pointing to her own face for emphasis. "Trust me, I know what it looks like when somebody has all that anger bubbling away below the surface and wants to find a way to tear down everyone that has ever hurt you."
"Observant," I said after a moment.
"Damn straight I am," she smirked.
To my surprise, Merula sniffed the air. "Mm. It's not as strong up here, but I can smell silvervine, wormwood, and germaniums… you're making a moon potion to take care of a woman's monthly issue. And a whole lot of it. Enough for a couple thousand people if I'm not mistaken."
"You're able to tell all that just by scent alone?" I asked, impressed.
"Absolutely," Merula said proudly. "I can also smell the Wiggenweld potions, though it's not a recipe I'm familiar with. And a hair growth potion, too."
She then grinned at me. "You're brewing potions, and yet I know for a fact the markets in Diagon Alley and the rest haven't been flooded with the stuff. So you're selling elsewhere. Overseas, perhaps? I did hear a rumor you were seen chatting with Cyrus Greengrass, and everyone knows he has family across the pond. But no, that's not it."
She leaned in. "I think you're brewing watered down potions and selling them to the Muggles. Risky, but an untapped market. And there's a lot of money to be made there. But you need somebody who knows what they're doing. I'll bet you don't have anybody who knows how to brew potions properly. Self-taught, at best. That's what I bring to the table, Mr. Hunch."
"My name is Edward Rose," I replied sharply.
"You're still the head of House Hunch, though?" Merula asked, confused.
"I'm a Squib," I replied. "And while my father never disowned me, do you really think the Wizengamot will allow me to have any say in what my House does?"
"Fair enough," she replied with a slow nod. "Still, that just makes it all the more important for you to have somebody to know what they're doing, and who knows how to handle the Ministry to make them look the other way in case somebody notices something about your, let me guess, you're calling it 'herbal remedies?'"
"And you don't have any issues doing jobs like that that? Jobs that might annoy certain groups? Such as the Ministry?" I inquired.
"Fuck the Ministry," Merula snapped. "They're bloody arses who only know how to ruin lives! Did you know I'm on some sort of watchlist?"
"Your parents were Death Eaters," I pointed out. "And your aunt was part of a conspiracy to bring the Ministry down. It's understandable they'd keep an eye on you."
"Yeah, sure, I don't like it but I can accept that. But making it so I can never get a job anywhere good? Preventing me from leaving the country to try and seek my fortunes somewhere else? Spying on my home all hours of the day if I so much as swear?" Merula replied angrily.
"I have a temper, and I know I'm a bitch and half," she continued, folding her arms across her chest. "But I still have my pride, damn it!"
"And your pride would allow you, a Pureblood, to work for me, a Squib, who is actively going behind the Ministry's back?" I inquired.
"Absolutely," Merula declared with a vicious grin.
"Alrighty, then, let me just check something real quick," I requested and I took my bone dice out of a pocket. "What was Merula Snyde's nickname at Hogwarts?"
The former Slytherin girl looked amused at the sight of me rolling my Divination Dice across the desk, only for her expression to shift to shock when I said aloud, "The Most Powerful Puffskein, eh? Cute. Not at all what I expected from you."
"H-how did you-?!" she gasped.
I rolled again. "Ah, I see, it was because you got turned into a Puffskein for a bit. Transfiguration accident? No matter."
"I-I… are you a Seer?!" she uttered in disbelief.
"What is Merula Snyde's favorite sandwich?" I asked next, ignoring her, and Merula's face paled even further when I revealed it was bacon and pickled eel.
"An exotic choice. I'm partial to eel myself, though I prefer it grilled. Now, one last question: Will Merula Snyde betray me?" I asked again, keeping my eyes on the young woman, and she stiffened a bit as my dice clattered across the wood.
I looked down at the dice. This was the first time I'd actually used them for their intended purpose. The rest of the information I'd dazzled her with was all stuff I'd known after playing the game she'd been in.
I stared at the results of the dice for a bit before look up to Merula. "I don't often get such an empathic negative response from my dice," I told her, causing her to sag a bit in relief when it was clear I wasn't going to have to 'take care of her' for knowing too much.
"So, does that mean I've got a job?" she asked with a nervous yet hopeful voice.
"How does Head of Brewing sound?" I offered. "You were correct, I need somebody who knows how to properly brew potions, and to come up with new recipes. Starting salary is fifteen thousand galleons a year, with options for raises and promotions depending on quality of your work. I can also pay you in Pounds Sterling if you prefer."
I couldn't help but grin as Merula's eyes bugged out of her head and she choked a bit at the money I was willing to pay her.
"Th-that's-!" she gasped.
"Don't worry, the contract comes with guaranteed Paid Time Off, Overtime, Sick Days, and Vacation Hours. Oh, and a few other benefits, such as health and dental insurance packages. Sound good?"
"Hell yeah it sounds good!" Merula exclaimed. "Where do I sign?!"
"Before that, let's talk about the memory enhancement potion you memorized," I said, and she went still as I mentioned I knew about the secret mind-boosting potion that had been capable of granting a person mind-control powers after a Dark ritual.
"What do you want to do with it?" she demanded, immediately on guard.
"Could you repurpose the potion? Make it into something capable of curing Alzheimer's and other brain-related issues using only mundane ingredients?" I asked, and she blinked at that, before gaining a thoughtful look.
"I suppose… part of what makes it so effective was how many magical ingredients it used… but if you don't want to gain Legilimency-like abilities, then yeah, maybe. Need a lot of experimenting to find out, though," Merula replied.
"Good thing the Head of Brewing job comes with access to a state-of-the-art laboratory and potion lab," I pointed out.
"Huh. Yeah, I suppose that would be a good thing," she hummed. "Alright. As long as you don't want to use the potion for evil, or ask me to write down or tell anyone else the original recipe, then I'll be willing to work with you."
"Thank you," I said, taking the employment contract. "Read through this and then sign on the dotted line."
She took it and did indeed read through the contract, carefully checking every clause and article. After asking a few clarifying questions and letting me know she knew I was using Oath Binding Ink and could come up with a few ways to make the magic within it stronger without sacrificing quality or quantity, Merula Snyde signed on the dotted line, and formally became one of my employees.
In time, I had plans to make her the head of Cauldron Remedies entirely, letting her deal with the potion-making business matters while I focused on Avalon Industries as a whole, but she needed to build up reputation and rapport with the rest of the employees before that, and of course Merula had to get used to the way I worked. But it seemed like she would be a good fit. Even with her blisteringly foul mouth.
Once she'd signed, Merula went off to inspect her new workplace with Scarlett escorting her, eager to get started.
The witch wasn't the only one whom I was interviewing that day. I had a few other people to meet with for a variety of positions throughout my growing organization.
However, most of them weren't all that memorable. And I was pretty sure at least two of them were spies. Once the background checks on them were done, we'd see if my assumptions were correct. Until then, I had one final person to interview.
'After this I need to hire somebody to take charge of doing interviews on my behalf,' I thought to myself.
When the newcomer came in, I gave her a smile and motioned for her to sit down. The middle-aged woman gave me a polite smile as we exchanged pleasantries, though she looked a bit nervous.
"So, I see that you speak Portuguese," I said, looking at the woman's resumé. "And spent several years working as a secretary."
"That is correct," she replied with a nod.
"Hmm. And you worked and lived in Portugal for a while? And were married during that time?"
"Yes. We are no longer together, though," she stated, a brief flash of distaste flickering across her face.
I nodded at that, eyes flickering across the resumé a bit. She'd moved back to London not too long ago after the divorce. Made plans to go to Edinburgh, but she'd seen an ad in a newspaper for my job posting.
"Well, I have great respect for single mothers, and being willing to raise your daughter on your own takes a lot of courage," I commented. "However, I have to ask if you'll be able to split your time between taking care of her and working?"
"I am very adept at managing my time, and can confirm that I will be able to work with any schedule you may have," she claimed.
"I like to get to know my people better. Do you have any hobbies?" I inquired.
"Well, I've always enjoyed writing," she admitted.
"Any interesting ideas?" I asked.
"One or two," she replied evasively. "Science fiction, mostly."
"I love science fiction," I commented. "So many things to explore with that genre."
Some more idle questions were asked and she answered them. I'd already made up my mind, but I'd been curious and had enjoyed speaking with her more than I thought I would.
So in the end I offered her the secretarial position and a contract to look over, and she signed it eagerly.
"Wonderful, glad to have you onboard! And in the event you ever publish a book, I'd love to be the first person to ask for your autograph," I said as I shook her hand. She laughed politely, but I was dead serious.
"Welcome to the team, Miss Rowling," I told her. "Your orientation starts tomorrow at eight a.m. sharp, and you'll be working with Mrs. Calloburgh for now. I hope we can get along."
Joanne Kathleen Rowling smiled back at me, and there was relief in her eyes that she'd managed to secure a job so soon after returning to the UK with her daughter.
I had no idea what was going to happen going forward, but if nothing else, I could now say I'd met the creator of this world. How many other people can make such a claim?
Chapter 70: Chapter 70: Deviation
Chapter Text
Chapter 70: Deviation
The weeks since Harry had left for Hogwarts had passed by without much fanfare or any incidents. Aside from purchasing the apartment complex, reshuffling my businesses, and hiring a bunch of new people, very little had actually happened.
I was enjoying the peace and quiet, which was of course how I knew everything was about to start falling apart. But until things actually started to go wrong, I had things to do, and that was why I was standing in my new penthouse talking with a dwarf in a hard hat.
"…and that's what I want for the windows. Think your craftsmen can handle that?"
"Got to say, my niece was not joking when she said you had ideas," the dwarven architect and Ward Master said as he looked over my plans for what I wanted done with the apartment complex.
Bartrum Stonespittle was Hildegarde's uncle and an extremely talented builder, as well as being very proficient with runes and wardcraft. I had only managed to get into contact with him through Hildegarde's reference. He was gruff, but very good at his job.
"I do indeed," I said with a nod.
"Hmm. Some of this won't be easy. Have to do some serious renovations if you want the highest quality wards to cover the entire complex," the dwarf said thoughtfully. "Plus, the expenses."
"As long as the whole building can be finished as soon as possible, money is no question," I replied.
"That's what I like to hear!" Bartrum declared. "Been a while since I was able to knock some rust off my hammer. The money doesn't hurt either!"
He then sent me a look. "And as for the second thing ya asked for… We'll have to see. I won't say I'm not interested, and my brothers will also be intrigued by the offer, but we've been burned before by humans."
"Yes, I heard about what Lockheart did last year," I said with an apologetic wince.
"Ugh, don't remind me about that!" Bartrum groaned. "A job is a job, but he completely lied about what we would be doing!"
He then shot me a sharp look. "But that wasn't all that I meant, and you know it."
I nodded with a solemn sigh. The goblins weren't the only magical race humanity had had wars with. The dwarves were less antagonistic over all, but they hadn't done well, especially with the Statute of Secrecy cutting off access to their customers.
Being master builders and craftsmen, as well as far less prickly than goblins, mundane humans had once paid for the dwarves to construct castles, sewers, and countless weapons and armor. And with the goblins cornering the market on banking and other craft-related businesses in the now isolated magical world, the dwarves had steadily lost work.
They were still the best runesmiths around, and witches and wizards fought for the chance to study under a dwarven master of runes, but for the most part, dwarven civilization had faded from glory.
'However, if I can make an alliance with the dwarves, or at least have a good working relationship with them in the future, then my plans for introducing more runes into my businesses will go more smoothly,' I thought to myself.
"Alright, then," I said, nodding at Bertrum's words. "When you do decide what to do, be sure to pass my offer on to the rest of the dwarves."
He ignored me, already beginning to walk around the penthouse as he examined everything, checking on it and making notes for what he'd need to replace and what he could keep in order to turn the place and the rest of the building into a magical fortress.
As I was walking out of the apartment, I felt something vibrate in my back pocket. I reached into it and removed a pager.
Pagers were so weird. They were cellphones, but not really? They could receive small alpha-numerical messages without needing to rely on a landline. I used it to let me know if somebody had tried to call me, or to let my secretaries contact me.
Checking the display, I found that it was the number Sirius used when he needed to contact me. Grimmauld Place hadn't originally had a phone, and the defenses around it wouldn't let a Muggle work team inside to install one, but the neighbors on either side of the creepy old house did, and the Marauder had found a way to magically tap into their phone lines with an antique rotary phone.
'Sometimes he acts like a moron, but then I remember that he helped create one of the most incredible pieces of magic I've ever seen and it creates tonal whiplash,' I thought to myself with a chuckle. 'Well, if he's calling me, it's probably something important. Better go find out what he wants.'
I got into my car – newly repaired and upgraded with new runes and enchantments to make it nigh-indestructible – and headed to my apartment. I couldn't wait to move into the penthouse, but I'd likely have to wait a year before that.
Inside my cozy little home, I immediately returned Sirius' call. "Hey, Sirius, what's up?"
"Is this thing on?!"
"Yes, Sirius, the phone is working," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I can hear you, no need to shout."
"Ed! Good!" Sirius said, only slightly lowering his voice. "Remus is contacting me on the mirror! He wants to talk with both of us!"
That caught my attention. The magic mirror was a clever way to communicate that the Marauders had come up with, but it only worked in pairs. If Remus wanted to talk to both of us, I had to go over to Sirius' place.
"I'll be there soon," I promised before hanging up. As I drove over, I couldn't help but wonder about what would cause Remus to use the mirror. Had something happened with Harry? I gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying not to think about that.
When I reached Grimmauld Place, I had to park a whole street away as the parking spaces were all taken up by the time I arrived. Walking up to the front door, I only had to knock once before it swung open.
"Good, you're here," Sirius said, ushering me inside.
"Sorry, I was at the apartment complex and then had to stop at my place to call you," I apologized. "I probably could have made a call from a phone booth, though…"
"That's alright. Uh, but when do you think you'll be ready to start renting out rooms in that fancy new place of yours?" Sirius asked curiously as he led me into the living room.
"Interested in upgrading from Grimmauld Place?" I asked.
"Absolutely. A nice little man-pad for me to stay that isn't dripping with evil sounds like a great place to relax," he joked.
"You can rent right now if you want, but I'd suggest waiting for a bit. I was talking with Rockspittle today and negotiating for his services."
"Oh, did the dwarves finally agree to work with you?" he asked, surprised.
"Yup. Going to be expensive, but the apartment building will have the best dwarven defenses money can buy," I confirmed.
"In that case, I'm definitely putting a deposit down right now for when everything is ready," Sirius said. "Anyways, get comfy while I set up the mirror."
I sat down in the living, taking a seat on the couch that according to Sirius had been stuffed with hippogriff down. As I did, I couldn't help but notice that Kreatcher was watching me, peering out from behind the doorframe.
"Uh, hello, Kreatcher," I said slowly, eyeing the mentally unstable House Elf.
"Nasty Squib, sitting on Black furniture, making it nasty just like him," the old House Elf grumbled. "Must clean it thoroughly."
"Riiight," I drawled. "Don't let me stop you from having fun, then."
"Fun?" Kreather cackled. "Does the Squib have more playthings for me?"
I blinked, then paled a little as I realized he meant he wanted more prisoners to torture. "Uh, no, not yet."
The House Elf tsked at me before walking away, muttering to himself about the 'good old days.'
"Was Kreatcher bothering you?" Sirius asked as he walked down with the enchanted hand mirror.
"No, just creeping me out," I replied, before waving at the tiny image of Remus' head being shown. "Hey, Professor Lupin. Have you had to give any detention recently?"
"You and Sirius are spending too much time together if you're making the same jokes," the werewolf grimaced.
Sirius snorted and I grimaced. "Uh-oh, if my jokes are the same as his, I have to get new material. Don't want to be mistaken for an old man, after all."
"I'm not old!" Sirius huffed. "I'm refined and mature, like wine."
"Even wine turns into vinegar after a while," Remus retorted, and the animagus stuck his tongue out at him before setting the mirror down on the coffee table, propping it up so we could all see each other.
"What's up, Remus?" I asked. "Is everything alright at Hogwarts?"
"Things are fine, but I'm not sure how much longer it will be," the Defense teacher replied. "Amelia told me something very worrying. Bartimaeus Crouch Senior was found dead in his house last night."
"What do you mean he's dead?" I demanded, leaning in towards the mirror with a worried look on my face.
"It is what it is. Crouch Senior bit the dust," Remus said, and I leaned back in my seat. Beside me, Sirius shared my worry, his own expression pinched.
"What about Junior?" I asked. When Remus coughed nervously, I sighed, "He's gone, isn't he?"
"He is," the werewolf confirmed. "When the Auror's investigated the scene, they found evidence of somebody else having lived in the house for years alongside Crouch Senior. The man's wand was missing, and so were quite a few items and a considerable amount of money. Some think he was robbed…"
"But we know better," Sirius piped up. "By the way, Moony, should your girlfriend really be telling you all of this?"
"She values my input," Remus replied. "And as a teacher at Hogwarts, she believes that I should be kept aware of how this particular case progresses."
"Why? Unless… does she suspect that Crouch Junior is alive and would be going after Harry?" I asked in worry.
"Forensics spells were able to detect the presence of fresh hairs belonging to Crouch Junior, as well as recent finger prints," Remus said. "Amelia is sending a team to Azkaban to investigate Barty's grave to confirm if he really is dead. Don't know how easy that will be, since I am unsure of what the burial situation is like at the prison, but so far, all signs point to Senior's son still be alive and on the loose."
"That's not good," the animagus muttered. "This is a lot sooner than I expected. And different from your visions, Ed."
"I've altered quite a bit already, some things were bound to change," I huffed in response.
"Can't exactly deny that, I suppose," Sirius said.
"What about Winky?" I asked, changing the topic. "What happened to Crouch's House Elf?"
"It's missing, so that's another point in favor of Junior still being alive," Remus replied. "House Elves without masters are supposed to go the Magical Creature's department at the Ministry, but it never showed up after Crouch Senior's death, so Amelia believes it's still serving Junior."
"She," I said. "Winky is a she-elf."
Remus blinked but nodded in understanding. "Ah. Yes. I will keep that in mind."
"Anyways, try and suggest to Madam Bones she should keep a close eye on Peter Pettigrew," I suggested. "Even if the rat is in Azkaban we don't want to take any chances. Oh! And don't forget to remind her that she could put extra security on Voldemort's wand."
Remus grimaced but nodded. Voldemort's wand – which had previously been in Pettigrew's possession – was being kept under heavy guard in the Ministry. The wand was responsible for a lot of death and terror, and the Minister of Magic had wanted it kept out of sight, but also as a sort of trophy. As such, it was currently on display in a glass case within Fudge's office.
Despite being out in the open like that, the wand was more secure than other high-valued objects simply by proxy of being in the office of Magical Britain's most powerful man, and thus was protected by the various defensive wards and enchantments within said room.
'Say what you will about the moron currently holding the position, but the previous Ministers knew what they were doing and put so many magical defenses and traps up around the office it'd take a small army of Cursebreakers to bust through,' I thought to myself.
"You know, I just realized that tomorrow is Halloween," I noted. "Wanna bet that tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophetreports that Crouch Junior is not only alive but likely going after Harry as well?"
"Why would you…" Sirius asked, but Remus interrupted.
"No, no, he has a point, Padfoot," the werewolf spoke up. "I heard some things from my students. Twice, now, Harry has experienced some sort of misfortune on the 31st of October. A troll in his first year, and the Chamber of Secrets was opened last year."
"Ah," Sirius muttered, understanding what I was talking about. "Right, yeah, no bet, kid. You won't be scamming me out of any more of my money."
"I'm not scamming you, you're the one who's betting against a Seer," I retorted.
"He's got you there," Remus chuckled. Sirius rolled his eyes at us.
"Do you think Fudge would be stupid enough to try and send the Dementors out after Junior?" I couldn't help but ask, and the wizards shared looks with each other.
"I want to say 'no…'" Remus said.
"But he might not have a choice," Sirius added. "The Dementors are terrible creatures, but even they have some pride. Having a prisoner escape their watch would anger them. Having it happen twice, and so soon after one another? They had to let me go because I wasn't technically a criminal and got acquitted, but Junior? They will want his blood. Or soul, in this case."
"I was afraid of that," I sighed. "Here's hoping only a few of them get sent out, and not hundreds like that fool did in my visions."
"Wanna bet on it?" Sirius asked, tone partially joking. I shot a glare at him, and Remus laughed.
"Just in case, I'll start teaching the OWL and higher classes how to cast a Patronus, just to be on the safe side," the werewolf said a moment later as he wiped a tear of mirth from his eyes.
"That's a good idea," I nodded. "And remember what I said about Harry's talent with it?"
"I do," Remus said, looking a little uncertain, but he eventually nodded. "I'll ask him if he's interested."
"That'll be good for him," I said. Then, a thought hit me. "Speaking of Dementors… Sirius, I found some rituals designed to destroy them, if you're interested…"
"Am I interested in destroying those soul-sucking monsters? Hell yeah I am!" Sirius declared, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Show me what you got and I'll work on finding what's necessary for the ritual."
"You think they'll side with the Dark Lord?" Remus inquired.
"They didn't last time, but all it would take is a little push to get something like those creatures to serve him," Sirius declared bitterly. "They're Dark Creatures, Remus. And not phony bologna 'Dark' creatures like people call Werewolves, Veelas, and Goblins, but actual Dark beings born of foul rituals."
I nodded in agreement. Flamel's journal had contained some history on the cloak-like monsters, and they were truly horrific abominations. They hated life and were probably one of the few things in existence that deserved to be exterminated to the last.
'Anything that feasts on soul should be shunned and destroyed,' I thought to myself. Maybe I was biased due to the fact I knew souls were real and could reincarnate, but the idea of a Dementor getting close to me… I'd had nightmares about it as a child.
111 &&& 111
Harry POV
Today was Halloween, and Harry woke up feeling nervous. The rest of the 3rd Year Gryffindors noticed right away.
"You shouldn't worry, mate," Seamus said, patting Harry on the back as they headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. "It'll give ya indigestion!"
"The last two years, something has always happened on this day," Harry pointed out. "I'm pretty sure I'm cursed."
"Neither of you are wrong," Kellah piped up, playing peacemaker. "Harry, you can't spend the whole day worrying and looking over your shoulder. And Seamus? It does seem like this day is kinda unlucky."
"I'm still think Harry isn't cursed and it isn't just a bunch of coincidences," Hermione claimed.
"I'm not sure about that, Madam Trelawny has been predicting bad things will happen to him for days, now," Lavender pointed out.
"She also said black cloaks will be a source of fear and discomfort," Ron pointed out with a snort and Hermione nodded in agreement.
The bushy-haired girl wasn't taking Divination anymore – not that anyone was sure how she'd been doing so with her schedule so jam-packed with different classes – and she was still rather skeptical of the whole class.
Harry was a bit more credulous thanks to Ed's use of it, but even he could admit Professor Trelawny wasn't the best teacher. She did have the whole mystical persona down pat, though.
'Well, she's not as bad as Hagrid,' Harry mused. The big groundskeeper was a nice man but he didn't really understand what might be consider 'dangerous' to other people. Draco nearly got his eyes pecked out by the hippogriff, and was only saved from blindness by Daphne Greengrass hitting him with a Knock-Back Jinx. That had been a wild class.
"If it happens one more time, then Harry might be onto something," Neville spoke up, and Harry turned to him. "We should probably be on guard, just in case."
"Yeah, we've got your back, Harry!" Dean assured him, and the Boy Who Lived smiled gratefully.
"Thanks, everyone," he said, feeling a bit more relieved as he entered the large chamber. The sky was a bit overcast and grey, leftovers from last night's rain, but it was supposed to be nice and sunny for Quidditch practice later in the day.
Hedwig flew in along with the rest of the owls, delivering a package from Ed to him. Harry opened it up and found it contained a pumpkin themed card and a book. The card simply said "Sorry" and included a page number, and the book was called 'Jewelbert's Guide to Anti-Necromancy.'
'Why does he think I'll need a book about banishing spirits?' Harry couldn't help but wonder, flipping to the page in question. It was a chapter on something called a Dementor and how to drive them off, and Harry felt like he'd heard about the weird cloak-like creatures before… but where?
As Harry tried to remember, the rest of the mail owls finished delivering everything, including copies of the Daily Prophet.
"Oh, wow!" Parvati exclaimed, follow by Ron going "Oh, come on!"
Concerned, Harry glanced over at his friends who were reading the newspaper. "What now?"
Neville was trembling as he stared at the front page of the Daily Prophet, and Hermione and Dean shared a look before the latter passed him their copy.
"CROUCH ESCAPES AZKABAN!" the headline screamed and Harry bit back an urge to sigh as he began to read.
"Bartimaeus Crouch Senior, formerly the head of the Department of International Magical Co-Operation, was found dead in his home in North Hampton two days ago! While this is a tragedy, the true shocker is that is has been confirmed that it was his own son, Bartimaeus Crouch Junior, who murdered him!" the newspaper reported.
"Originally sentenced to a life imprisonment in Azkaban for the torture and attempted murder of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Crouch Junior was supposed to have died while in prison and buried on the desolate island. However, it has been discovered that Crouch Senior helped his own son escape Azkaban, smuggling him out from underneath the Dementors noses, and was keeping him locked up in his own basement for the past twelve years under the Imperious Curse! However, Crouch Junior seemed to have escaped from his father's control and reaped his revenge! Minister of Magic Fudge has signed a Kiss on Sight edict and allowed the Dementors to leave Azkaban in order to bring the fugitive to justice!"
The article was written by Rita Skeeter, and there was a bit more to it on other pages, such as requests for anyone who might have seen the escapee to report him, and information about his description to go along with an outdated photo of the man.
Harry put the paper down after reading a bit more, feeling frustrated to have his premonition proved true so soon.
"I told you so," Lavender said smugly, and Ron looked like he'd swallowed something unpleasant. Yes, 'black cloaks bringing misfortune' was an accurate descriptor for a Dementor, and after this, it seemed like Professor Trelawny would be getting a bit of a reputation boost amongst the student body.
'Though it does explains why Ed sent me this book,' Harry thought to himself as the Great Hall continued to erupt with chaotic noise as the latest news circulated. Even the teachers looked taken aback, with Snape the most unsettled by the revelation.
'Did he know Crouch Junior in the past?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. 'Or is it because of something else?'
He didn't like not knowing, but for now couldn't do much else. Should he bring this up with Ed, see if he had any advice? Or maybe Remus – sorry Professor Lupin – would be easier to talk to. He was right there at the main table, looking tired and annoyed. Harry could easily relate.
'I hate Halloween,' Harry thought with a sigh. What was wrong with this time of year? Did somebody have it out for him?
For some reason, he couldn't help but feel like he'd heard somebody laughing at him just now. He shivered, and decided to read the book Ed had gifted him as closely as possible. Ghosts were real, after all. Though he decided to hide the book so the castle's spectral inhabitants didn't feel threatened. Harry actually liked most of the ghosts, after all.
Chapter 71: Chapter 71: Parents and Teachers
Chapter Text
Chapter 71: Parents and Teachers
"…and lastly, I'd like to thank Edward Rose for providing the refreshments," Mrs. Granger said, giving me a nod. I nodded back as I popped a bit of cheese and cracker into my mouth. The others in the living room gave their thanks as well in the form of nods and scattered applause.
The Parents of Hogwarts was an organization that the Grangers had decided to create to get together with parents (and guardians) of Muggleborn and Half-blood witches and wizards studying at Hogwarts and discuss things with them.
The dentist couple had been thinking about this for a while now, after learning their daughter had nearly been squished by a troll in her first year and formally established after they found out about the Basilisk.
The Finch-Fletchleys had been happy to host, but for the first meeting it was decided that the Grangers should have that honor, since it'd been their idea and planning that made it happen.
To that end, I was sitting in the Grangers' living room with several other parents. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were there, of course, as were Justin Finch-Fletchley's, Dean Thomas's, and Sally-Anne Perk's mothers along with Kellah's and Seamus Finnegan's fathers.
There weren't a lot of us just yet, just the parents of some current Third Year students, but I had a feeling our group would grow as time passed and more ridiculous stuff happened at Hogwarts. We might even open the doors to people who lived in the magical world like Mrs. Weasley and Lovegood.
I could tell Mrs. Thomas was a bit nervous, as I was her boss and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley was a socialite from a much higher tax bracket, but she was being a good sport about it. Mrs. Perks was helping in that regard, chatting her ear off and keeping Mrs. Thomas distracted.
As for the snacks, I hadn't brought cookies or sugary foods since I knew the Grangers weren't fans of the stuff, so that was why I'd gotten a cheese platter instead.
"So, with all that minutia out of the way I'd like to thank you all for being here for the first meeting of the Parents of Hogwarts!" she said, earning another round of applause. "Does anyone have anything they'd like to go over or bring up first?"
Mrs. Finch-Fletchley raised a hand. "If I could, I'd like to discuss a few issues I've come across with the way things are done education-wise."
I listened with half an ear as Josephine listed off a few problems with the way Hogwarts work, namely how they seemed to completely ignore the core subjects of math, literature, and history taught by mundane schools.
There were a lot of nods from the other parents in the room. Math was completely ignored until their third year, and even then it was just an elective. History of Magic covered the magical side of history, but the ghost who taught that class only recited from the textbook and couldn't actually engage with his students. And there wasn't anything teaching young witches and wizards how to read and write, or about the famous literary works of their culture.
"…simply put, Hogwarts needs to have some serious changes introduced if we want our children to have a decent education by the time they graduate," Josephine said. "I've had Justin take tutoring sessions over the summer, but that can only do so much."
I nodded in agreement with her words. I hadn't been able to mentor Justin as much last year for a variety of reasons, and my time was dwindling even further as I was pulled in different directions so next summer I likely wouldn't be able to tutor him.
Other parents looked a bit worried by that information, and one of them raised a hand. "What should we do? Send our kids to summer school?"
"That's not actually a bad idea," another one commented. "If we find one in the area, then that'd be even better."
"I've looked into summer schools a bit, but I think the best idea would actually be something more like a summer camp," Mr. Granger suggested, adjusting his glasses. "Most children don't exactly like to study. Making learning fun is a better way to do things."
"I second that motion," I spoke up. "A summer camp style education experience would make the kids enjoy themselves more while also making sure they learn. It's not the perfect answer, though, but it's probably the best we can do for now until we bring our concerns to the School Board."
There was some more discussion regarding how they'd be able to get their kids to learn what they needed in order to be well-rounded members of society, but after a bit the topic drifted to something else. Namely, how to get more information about the magical world so they could stay up-to-date about what was happening on that side of things. Learning it all second-hand was not the best way to do things.
"Speaking of recent happenings in the magical world, I thought it might be important to show you all this," I said, pulling out a copy of last week's Daily Prophet.
"I remember that one," Mr. Finnegan spoke up, recognizing the headline. "The escaped criminal, yes?"
"I think I saw some news stories on the telly the other day about that man!" Mrs. Perks exclaimed when she saw the picture of Crouch Junior on the front page.
"Yeah, right now, things are in a bit of a turmoil within the magical world. It's a real mess, with a bunch of Dementors being released to try and find the guy," I said. "From what I understand, the Ministry of Magic is working with the mundane government to put the word out."
"Is this person anything like the last criminal that escaped?" Mr. Granger asked. "If I recall, there was a scare about a felon getting out a while back."
"Sirius Black was innocent, he was thrown in there on false charges," I replied. "This guy is the real deal, unfortunately."
"Should we do anything if we spot him?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked.
"Keep your distance and contact me, and I'll call the Aurors," I said. "I don't think he'll be showing his face around here for a while, though. My bet is he'll be trying to leave the country and flee to the mainland."
I raised a finger. "What's more important is what you should do if you come across an unusually cold and dark place when it doesn't seem like it should be either. Dementors can only be seen by mages, but everyone else can tell where they are by the way they affect their surroundings. So, if you encounter something like that, leave immediately. The Dementors shouldn't try and chase you, but if they do, stay somewhere well-lit and crowded. They hate bright lights and won't try to attack a group of people lest the Ministry of Magic rescind their freedoms."
"Sounds terrifying," Kellah's father murmured.
"They are. Easily one of the worst things in the magical world," I said.
"And they use these things to guard a prison?" Mrs. Thomas asked worriedly.
"Mages have a skewed sense of danger. Understandable, given what even their equivalent of a school dropout can do with a wand," I replied with a shrug.
"I suppose when you can cast spells to heal wounds in a snap, I guess everything looks safe," Mrs. Perks hummed.
"True, though I also have to wonder how much isn't also due to… well, the wizarding world seems to be stuck around Victorian era sensibilities, and we can all agree about how little most people back then cared about safety," Mr. Finnegan commented, which earned a round of nods and mutterings about lead in the wallpaper.
"Speaking of danger and what not, I was wondering about other sorts of things our children might end up exposed to," Kellah's father commented. "I tried to read her copy of the Care for Magical Creatures textbook, but it tried to bite me."
"Yeah, those aren't the best option for students. Or anyone, really," I muttered. "Who the hell greenlit publishing a book that bites its reader?"
"Right? Well, there was this idea I had, about introducing other first-generation students to magic, as well as their parents, so they wouldn't be so overwhelmed," the dark-skinned man said. "But in a controlled environment. More so than what we got, at least."
"What did you guys get as a demonstration of magic being real?" I asked curiously.
"Well, I knew about magic beforehand thanks to my first husband," Mrs. Thomas said, a little sadly. "But Professor Flitwick showed off some charms for my son and daughter. And the first major experience I had with magic was Diagon Alley which was a bit overwhelming."
"It was Professor McGonagall for us," Mrs. Perks said. "And she transformed our ottoman into an otter."
"Professor Snape was ours," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said with a sniff. "He was rather brusque, and simply used a few color swapping spells on our furniture. Then he just handed us the letter and left with nary a word!"
"Controlled introduction to magic does sound like a good idea," Mr. Granger hummed. "How would we do it, though?"
"I have an idea," I commented.
"Oh? And what does the 'Rising Star of the Business World' suggest?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said with a teasing tone, and I held in a groan while a few other people tittered at my pinched expression.
"How cruel of you to bring that up," I sighed.
"I thought it was a lovely read," Mrs. Thomas said.
"Thank you," I replied.
The Sun, one of London's biggest tabloid newspapers, had done an article on me, and had made the claim I was a rising star. Which, yeah, okay, technically true, but it had such a patronizing attitude.
'Look at this child trying to play in the big leagues!' was the tone of the article. 'When do you think his little business will come crashing down around him?'
"You know it's better to avoid letting people make up whatever sort of nonsense they want about you," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley pointed out. "Doing the interview when they asked was the best choice. Regardless of how… unflattering it was."
"Delilah said the same thing," I grumbled. "Considering her own experiences with the media-vultures, I figured I'd take her advice and just let them print the damn thing."
"Yes, Delilah and her parents have had their fair share of… attention from the press in the past," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said diplomatically.
"There's a reason I've been ignoring the damn tabloids since the article came out," I stated. "Pretty sure at least one of them will try to write some asinine piece about me only dating her for her wealth or family connections or something like that."
Several people coughed awkwardly at that, and I groaned. "Ugh, of course. I knew it. Who was it?"
"Some rag in the grocery store," Mrs. Perks assured me. "Probably hasn't been read by many people."
"And knowing my luck, half the country has seen it," I said with a sigh. Oh well. Not like I cared about what some tabloid said about me. Unless it was really bad. Then I'd care. A lot.
Shaking my head, I decided to continue with what I'd been talking about earlier. "As I was saying, I was thinking we could host a sort of fair before the school year starts, once everyone had received their letters. The Americans have this thing called Homecoming, and it's a bit like a party for returning to school. We could do something like that, but for getting children and families more accustomed to the magical side."
"A fair might be a tad much. Though I like the general idea," Mrs. Granger said. "Anything else?"
"School supplies can also be a bit expensive," Mrs. Thomas mentioned. "I know the pound goes a little further in the magical side, but perhaps a charity drive to help students afford the necessary materials without worrying about breaking the bank."
"Should we be charging dues for admission into this parent's association, then, if we're going to be doing stuff like that?" Mrs. Perks wondered.
"I don't that's necessary," Mr. Finnegan replied. "We want to help people and make it easier for us folks who grew up without magic to understand the new world they're setting foot into. But a donation drive or bake sale could certainly help with the goals."
"Why not combine them?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said. "We can start helping people with a magical bake sale for new and old students. Sell simple goodies from the magical world to ease the newcomers into the whole thing, and use the proceeds to buy school supplies for those who might need them."
"I like it," I said. "Two birds, one stone."
The rest of the group also thought it was a smashing plan, and we spent the rest of the evening discussing how to get the whole thing set up for next year.
The main issue was finding out which people were going to be attending Hogwarts next year. We couldn't just stake out the Leaky Cauldronthroughout the summer, waiting for orientation day. We'd have to actually talk with Hogwarts, since only they had access to a master list of incoming students.
"I know somebody who is on the School Board," I said, thinking about Madam Longbottom. "If I bring it up to her, she could try and convince McGonagall, since as the Deputy Headmistress she'd have the authority for this."
"We'll leave it to you, then," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley replied.
I nodded, making a mental note to contact the woman who thought a stuffed vulture on her hat was the height of fashion.
"Now, was there anything else?" Mrs. Granger wondered.
The rest of the evening was filled with small talk as parents bragged about their kids. It was nice, and normal. After the business I'd been getting up to regarding the magical world, it felt good to have something normal to discuss.
"…and now I'm starting to wonder if Dean hasn't filled my daughter's head with ideas about Hogwarts," Mrs. Thomas said with a sigh. "Part of me is happy Lacy doesn't seem to be showing any signs of accidental magic, but I just know she will be inconsolable when she doesn't get a letter of her own."
"It can be quite bitter to miss out on that," I agreed. "But if she really is determined to do something about magic, I have some of my old books about runes and potions she may find interesting."
"I'll have to think about that," Mrs. Thomas said gratefully. "Thank you."
"Of course," I nodded back.
"One child is enough for me, honestly," Kellah's father admitted. "I love her, but she was very active growing up."
"Hermione was the opposite," Mrs. Granger chuckled fondly. "She always loved books, even before she could read. If she was fussy, I'd just put a book into her crib and she'd settle right down!"
"Adorable," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley giggled.
"At least it makes it easy to buy gifts for her," Mr. Granger nodded.
"Speaking of gifts, anybody got any plans for Christmas this year?" I asked.
"Ah, we are gonna have a nice time with family," Mr. Finnegan replied, before grimacing a little. "This year is the in-law's turn to host."
"Let me guess, they think their daughter could have chosen better than you?" Mr. Granger asked. From his tone, Hermione's grandparents on her mother's side weren't his biggest fans.
"Eh, they're not that bad," Mr. Finnegan replied. "I could do without the constant disparaging of my cooking skills, though. They're not much better!"
"Reminds me of my own parents," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley sighed. "They were so opposed to my marriage. Really, such sad old people, unable to see how happy some people can be!"
'This was a good idea,' I thought fondly as I listened to the complaints about in-laws.
When it ended, I was pleased that our first session together had been a surprisingly productive meeting. We might not have gotten much done, but it'd set the stage for future meetings, and that was the whole point.
'There's no better way to change something than have a bunch of irate parents shouting at the administration,' I thought to myself with a slight chuckle. Yes, my scheme to change the less-than-stellar academics of Hogwarts was proceeding as planned!
111 &&& 111
In a warehouse in the dead of night, I stared down at the carved ritual circle on the floor before glancing over at the only other person who was with me at the moment.
"It's time," I said, and Delilah nodded.
"Take off your clothes," she instructed, and I nodded, stripping down until I was left with nothing.
I regretted it slightly, as the cold of November nipped at me, but I did my best to not shiver and shake as my girlfriend carefully painted the runes and sigils necessary for the ritual onto my skin.
After so many months and not a single glimpse of any negative side-effects, I had no more excuses and swallowed my fears before preparing to undergo the process of turning from a Squib into a true magical.
I couldn't help but feel excited. Finally! The birthright denied to me would be brought back. Sure, I'd never be able to use a wand, but hadn't I already proven one didn't need a stick to do incredible feats of magic?
So there I stood in the ritual circle as Delilah applied the magic-infused ink, as I wished it wasn't so chilly.
"Should have done this somewhere warmer," I grumbled to myself.
"You're the one who wanted to do this now," she reminded me. "Aaand… done!"
"And I regret it already," I sighed, before eagerly taking the Warming potion she handed me after finishing up the body-painting session. The vial was filled with fiery red liquid that radiated heat, even through the glass. "Bottoms up."
I drained the potion and let the pleasant feeling of warmth fill me, even as the parts of me covered in ink began to tingle and itch. Beneath me, the soles of my feet started to heat up, like standing in a hot bath, and I dared not move as the magic within the potion I'd just drank triggered the ritual.
It did not hurt. In fact, it sort of felt nice. Light suffused the warehouse we were using, and when it faded the tingling stopped. Looking down at my body, the ink was gone, and I knew I was whole at long last.
"Feel any different?" Delilah asked curiously.
"No. But I have a way to check," I said, before calling out, "Inky!"
At my command, my House Elf appeared. When he saw me, tears sparkled in his eyes.
"Young master Eddy!" he exclaimed. "Youse…! Youse!"
He couldn't continue, and the ancient servant of the household wept in joy. I let him cry to himself, get it out of his system, while I put my clothes back on.
"Are you feeling better?" I asked him.
"Magic… you have magic, young master Eddy!" Inky declared cheerfully while wiping away his tears.
"That sounds like the ritual worked to me," Delilah said, shooting me a smirk. I rolled my eyes at her but nodded.
"Yes, it does," I agreed, before looking down at the House Elf. "So, what now?"
Inky simply stuck his hand out, and confused, I took it, giving it a firm shake, only for magical sparks to fly about as our palms touched! For a moment I felt Inky's magical energy within me. It was sluggish and thin, but it felt like my own magic revitalized him somewhat. It was incredible, truly and significantly! Because now, I knew I was fully bonded with Inky.
'How long has he been suffering like this?' I wondered, staring down at Inky with wide eyes, while he stared back happily.
"I thought you were getting magic from mother," I said, concerned. "Why do you feel so weak?"
"Mistress never formalized the bond after Master's passing," Inky replied simply.
"Wait… you've been working for the family without a proper bond for almost a decade?!" I gasped in disbelief.
"There was enough from the young masters and mistress for Inky to do his jobs," the House Elf claimed with a shrug.
I couldn't believe it. That shouldn't have been possible! The magical link between my scumbag of a father and Inky should have shifted automatically to mother. But it seemed like it hadn't been finalized at all. Inky was receiving the barest trickle of magical energy from her and Rudy.
'Why did mother not complete the pact? Did she even know?' I couldn't help but wonder, before shaking my head.
"Take some time to rest and get used to the bond," I urged Inky. "Don't strain yourself."
Unsaid was that I too would need time to get used to the change as well. As time passed, the amount of magical energy within me would increase and make things easier for Inky, but until then, I didn't want to rush things and strain the fledgling magical bond.
"Master Eddy is kind," the House Elf said, but he bowed and disappeared with a pop.
"That will never not be weird," Delilah muttered.
"Yeah," I agreed.
The sheer devotion a House Elf could show for the people they served was unnerving. And when I'd completed the bond, I'd been able to tell that Inky had been fundamentally broken, both physically and mentally. He was using the magic he gained from the bond as a sort of glue to keep himself in one piece.
'This explains a lot about Kreacher,' I thought to myself.
Had Sirius ever completed the bond after returning from Azkaban? Hell, had any Pureblood master done so? Since it apparently required a handshake – or perhaps just physical contact – I doubted many of the families who owned House Elves had properly sealed the contract.
I sighed and shook my head. In the end, I couldn't do much except help Inky. I had become a 'wizard' but was unable to cast spells directly. Focusing on what I could do was much easier.
"The experiment has been a success so far," I said slowly. "But it's not enough."
"What are you think of doing next?" Delilah wondered.
"The ritual works, but it is limited in scope," I replied. "We need to retool it so it can affect people without having them stand in the circle or get naked and tattooed. It needs an area of effect to ensure as many people as possible can be affected at once."
"That won't be easy," Delilah hummed. "We'll have to rewrite the entire ritual circle itself to accomplish that."
"Yes. The core components of the ritual won't need to be changed, at least, but it's going to take a lot of experimentation," I muttered.
"Something else to work on," she agreed. "But we have time."
"We do," I agreed, but I wasn't sure how much we actually had. Between the Dementors, Crouch Junior's escape, and Voldemort still being on the loose, there were a lot of dangers looming on the horizon.
'Time to get ready for the future,' I thought to myself. There was a lot to do.
111 &&& 111
Remus POV
"Minerva, you look tired," Remus said, nodding at his former Head of House as he sat down at his seat.
"I've had some long nights recently," she replied, running a hand over her face.
"Ah, I understand," he said with a grimace. "I hope Dumbledore has some good news for us."
The Transfiguration teacher inclined her head, before turning to speak with Professor Sprout about a matter involving the greenhouses. He didn't really listen in, too busy with some of his own thoughts.
Looking around the room as more people filed in for the bi-weekly staff meeting, the werewolf noted how all of the teachers were on edge. He was also quite displeased with how things had gone recently, and it had all to do with the incompetence of the Ministry of Magic.
'Who thinks it's a good idea to send soul-sucking monsters to a school for children?' Remus wondered.
It was mid-November, and despite the Dementors only being around the school for two weeks, they had already caused quite a few problems. Students who'd gotten too close to a patrol had fallen ill or even become unconscious, they turned the area around Hogwarts bitterly cold which had given rise to a rash of flu, and they absolutely terrified everyone. Didn't matter if they were Muggleborn First Years or Pureblood Seventh Years, the Dementors made every single person uncomfortable.
Sadly, it didn't seem like anything would happen. Perhaps the School Board could pressure the Ministry to remove them, but odds were that would be a longshot.
"Welcome, everyone!" Dumbledore said as he swept into the room, his teal and plaid robes causing everyone to wince and avoid looking directly at them. "So good to see all of you here!"
"Must you wear such an affront to fashion, Albus?" McGonagall asked with an exasperated tone.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, my dear. Now, does anyone have something new to bring up?" Dumbledore inquired, and immediately the teachers all began to clamor for attention.
"I've had two more First Years come in to me for acute night terrors and Dementor exposure!" Madam Pomfrey declared angrily. "They were fine after some hot chocolate and Calming Draughts, but this trend cannot continue! I've placed an order for more chocolate from Honeydukes, but they're having troubles supplying us because everyone in Hogsmeade is buying up their stock out of fear towards the Dementors!"
"She's not the only one to be bothered by those things," Professor Trelawny piped up. "The Dementors are messing with the paths of fate and leading to many of my students seeing their predictions get twisted and misled."
Everyone looked at the Divination Professor with mixed expressions at that. It was no secret that her class was something of a joke, and she was always predicting at least one death per year, but she was a popular teacher despite all of that. If her students were coming to her with their concerns it was clear that something was wrong.
"Headmaster, surely you can do something?" Professor Sinestra pleaded. "The children are absolutely terrified whenever they come to the Astronomy Tower thanks those shrouded abominations scheduling their patrols to occur at midnight in the area! It's too much! Simply too much! The Dementor's have to go!"
"Indeed, stationing over two dozen Dementors around the school grounds is overkill!" Flitwick agreed.
"The students can barely fly without some of those creatures getting too close! Almost had one of my First Years fall off her broom when they ventured towards the Quidditch Pitch!" Madam Hooch growled out.
"They also ruined a batch of Shivering Ferns! They're very sensitive to the cold!" Sprout added.
"Aye, and they're spooking the poor beasties in the forest!" Hagrid added. "The Thestrals especially aren't fond of their presence."
"I am sorry to hear that, but until the Minister rescinds the order, the Dementors are here to stay," Dumbledore said apologetically.
"Can't you have them move further away, at least?" Professor Vector inquired.
"I'll see what I can do," he replied non-committally. That answer didn't please anybody, and there was some grumbling amongst the staff. But the Headmaster deftly ignored it and looked around the table.
"Does anyone have any other suggestions for dealing with this unfortunate situation, or at least making this easier?" Dumbledore asked.
"I've been teaching my N.E.W.T level students the Patronus Charm," Remus admitted, though he was certain they already all knew this. "It's been slow, but a few can actually create silvery mist, which is decent."
"That's wonderful news!" Flitwick said happily. "A spell like would indeed be quite useful… do you mind if I teach it to my own N.E.W.T students?"
"Not at all," Remus replied. "The more who know it, the better."
That was something they all agreed with, even the prickly Snape couldn't deny it.
'And speaking of Snape, he's been very unpleasant recently,' he thought to himself, glancing towards the greasy-haired man.
To be fair, the Potions professor hadn't done anything to make Remus' life miserable. In fact, he was the one brewing the Wolf's Bane Potion while Remus was acting as the DADA professor. Yet Snape had been decidedly antagonistic, with multiple instances of the surly and bitter man snubbing him or making snide comments about his teaching credentials.
'Ironic, considering that the students seem to enjoy my classes more than his,' Remus mentally chuckled to himself. He'd taught the new security guards working under him, but it wasn't quite the same as giving out and grading homework while also having new lessons for hundreds of children.
The werewolf hadn't expected Snape to be nice, but he'd thought some degree of cordiality would be a given since they were coworkers. But no, it seemed that Snape's attitude had not changed since their Hogwarts days. If anything, it'd gotten worse, with the man oozing a quiet loathing every time he appeared.
'At least Sirius isn't here to make things more complicated,' Remus thought with a shudder. The two had always been like oil and water – or perhaps oil and fire was more accurate given how often they clashed. He could only imagine what the two would do if forced to interact.
"…and I believe there is a lot of work to do for preparing the O. and N.E. this year, so I was hoping that we could all discuss some plans for that."
Remus hastily tuned back in as Flitwick finished talking, and raised a hand to make it seem like he'd been listening the whole time.
"On my end, I've been looking at the previous exams issued by the Ministry, and I've managed to make a decent study list for the 5th and 7th years," Remus stated. "Since the actual content of the tests haven't been changed in years, I think we can try to encourage the students to make study groups in order to work on the practical portion of it."
"Perhaps we should try to revive the Dueling Club?" Sprout suggested. "I have a feeling it only failed last year because of Lockhart."
"Agreed," Flitwick nodded. "But perhaps some modifications to the club would be necessary to ensure the students only practice year appropriate spells."
"That could work," Vector said. "Certainly better than letting the students fumble about."
"Taking inspiration from Potter's little social gatherings, are we?" Snape sneered.
"A little," Remus freely admitted. "The Third Years have managed to make a very impressive and inclusive study group that has only been helpful."
"Yes, I have noticed that the students joining in have better grades than the rest," McGonagall claimed.
"They've also invited First and Second Years to join them, which has been nice," Sprout commented. "Increasing the number of study groups – or the scope of the current one – can only be a good thing."
"You talk about inclusivity, but it's most the Gryffindors," Snape uttered with annoyance.
"While it's true they make up the largest percentage, members from all Houses are happily working together which I think can only be a good thing," Sprout said with a pleased expression. "I have not been paying too much attention to it, but some of my students are happy there, and it seems like a wonderful idea to make it bigger."
"Jolly good!" Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "I also must admit it feels wonderful to see inter-House cooperation, just as the Founders intended!"
"We should let them use one of the old rooms in the castle if it's going to get bigger," Madam Pince said primly. "The library won't be able to accommodate all of them."
It took Remus a tremendous amount of monumental willpower not to roll his eyes at that. The Hogwarts Library was the largest collection of literature in Magical Britain and had more than enough space for a thousand people to sit within it. Pince just didn't like people in 'her' library.
"I'm sure we can find a place for them," Dumbledore said in a placating tone.
There wasn't anything else all that interesting brought up, just small matters. However, Remus had a feeling more issues would crop up the longer the Dementors lingered.
"Remus, please stay for a moment, if you wouldn't mind," Dumbledore requested as the meeting ended, and the werewolf nodded, even though inside he felt a flicker of worry.
"I understand you've been spending time with young Harry," the older man commented when everybody else had left.
"Yes, I've been speaking with him," Remus confirmed. "We have tea on the weekends. If there's a worry about preferential treatment, be assured there is none of that going on. His work is being graded properly."
"Good, good, I've not heard anything of the sort, but it's nice to know you're taking this job seriously," Dumbledore said.
'I highly doubt that,' Remus thought. He knew Snape had been complaining about that very thing at the last staff meeting.
"By the way, has Harry mentioned anything about a young man named Edward Rose? Or perhaps Edward Hunch during your talks with him?" Dumbledore inquired, and Remus blinked, hiding his surprise.
For a moment, old feelings of loyalty towards the leader of the Order of the Phoenix stirred within him, but Remus was able to keep his voice firm as he replied.
"Afraid not," he replied. "I've mostly spoken to Harry about his parents. Haven't discussed what his home life is like at all. Though I thought the Hunch child's name was Rudolf."
"Erroneous Hunch had an older son who goes by 'Edward Rose' these days," Dumbledore replied.
"I see," Remus replied, nodding slowly. "Still, can't say I've heard Harry mention somebody by that name."
"Well, if you could, try to ask him about that," Dumbledore requested. "I do worry if he's being influenced by… outside elements."
"Certainly," Remus assured the Headmaster. "I'll see what I can do."
"Excellent. It's for Harry's safety, after all," Dumbledore said with a grin before leaving.
Remus watched the famed wizard for a moment, mind awhirl with thoughts. 'What is he up to? Why does he want to know about Ed?'
He'd have to use the mirror to send a message again to warn Sirius and Ed that Dumbledore was starting to sniff around.
111 &&& 111
Author's Note: Happy Easter, folks! I hope you all have a wonderful day!
Chapter 72: Chapter 72: Business Deals
Chapter Text
Chapter 72: Business Deals
Christmas time was here! Hurray! It was bitterly cold and there was a bit too much snow for my liking, but the gifts and the holiday cheer made up for that.
'I've got lots of ideas for my friends,' I thought to myself. 'This time, I can finally give Sam the best present ever! And the ones I've got planned for Harry and Delilah won't loose out, either!'
"Ed, you're cackling evilly to yourself again," Delilah drawled, pinching my arm. I stopped, wincing at the pain.
"Sorry, dear," I apologized. "And it wasn't evil cackles! It was completely normal holiday giggles!"
"Ed, I love you, but no, those were totally the cackles of a mad scientist plotting evil," Delilah replied before kissing my cheek. "Well, that's what I love about you."
"The evil?"
"Prat," she huffed, elbowing me in the side.
There was a giggle from nearby, and Delilah and I turned towards the other person in the room.
"Oh, don't mind me, you two," Delilah's mother Mrs. Hunt said, waving a hand at us dismissively. "Just enjoying the show."
Delilah huffed before snuggling closer to me, deciding to take her mother's advice and just pretend she was alone with me.
I was visiting Delilah's house, having been invited over earlier, and was enjoying the pre-dinner cuddles on the living room couch. We'd been watching the fireplace crackle merrily away when I'd been struck by a chuckle fit.
"So, what was making you so amused?" she inquired.
"Just thinking about the awesome gifts I'm gonna get everyone this year," I replied, kissing her forehead. "I'll be retaining my crown as King of Christmas again! Sam especially is gonna love what I got him!"
"You mean…?" she asked leadingly, perking up.
"Yup. Had to get help from Sirius and Tonks, but we found a way," I confirmed with a proud grin.
"He'll like that," Delilah said with a happy grin. "Sam deserves it."
"Sure does," I agreed.
"Sam is such a dear," Mrs. Hunt commented, sitting down in an armchair nearby. "And so is Mr. Black. I should invite him and his partner over for this year's Christmas party."
"Partner…?" I muttered, before choking a little with laughter.
"Mom!" Delilah exclaimed.
"What? If two men want to love each other, I fully encourage it," Mrs. Hunt replied. "I'm with the times, as they say."
"Sirius and Lupin aren't like that, ma'am," I said, struggling to contain my mirth. "Lupin even has a lady friend he's been seeing for a while!"
"Oh? But I could have sworn…" Mrs. Hunt muttered with a tiny frown. "The signs were all there…"
"Your tabloid magazines are not a good source for finding out if two men fancy each other, mother," Delilah sighed, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Speaking of gossip rags, I'm apparently cheating on you," I commented with a dry, mocking chuckle. "Some busybody took a photo of me talking with a neighbor at the supermarket last week and since she's somewhat attractive they decided to run with that story."
"Ugh, vultures, the lot of them," Delilah groaned, rolling her eyes in disgust. "They always get uppity around Christmas and Valentines. Trying to ruin relationships during the biggest holidays focused around friends, family, and love."
"Yeah, it's honestly sad how they're trying to smear my name," I scoffed.
"Is it Sir Briar again?" Mrs. Hunt asked, eyes narrowing in anger, and I nodded.
"Yeah, the trashy magazine running the story is owned by a guy who is in his pocket. It has a decently sized following, but it's not like I care about what morons think of my reputation," I replied.
"Why can't that nasty old man just leave well enough alone?" Mrs. Hunt wondered, frustrated, and Delilah shared her annoyance.
"Dunno. But if he doesn't stop I'm going to have to take action," I claimed. I didn't exactly have many legal recourses to deal with the grumpy old man, but so long as he kept his antics to merely trying to slander me, I would let him be.
'The moment he tries to get me to 'have an accident,' though, I will have to something… regrettable,' I thought to myself.
"Just be careful," Delilah urged. "He's a bastard, but he has a lot of money and friends."
"I know, I know," I reassured her. "He wants the secrets to my success, but seems to have backed off from trying to do anything physical, so far. So long as it stays that way, I'll play ball."
"Watch out for yourself, Ed," Mrs. Hunt urged. "If you get hurt, it will hurt my baby girl as well."
"And I'd never want to hurt her," I promised. I grinned as Delilah blushed, and she smacked me on the chest when she saw my smug expression.
"Jerk," she grumbled.
"It's pronounced 'lover,'" I smirked. Mrs. Hunt continued to smile at our interaction, but then her face shifted when the sounds of the door opening could be heard.
"Darling, you're home early," Mrs. Hunt said as Mr. Hunt walked into the living room. There was still a smile on her face, but it was brittle and fake. There was still love in her eyes when she looked at him, but it was faded and worn down by the lack of emotions in his own gaze.
"Darla. Delilah," Mr. Hunt said curtly, before his attention shifted to me. "Edward."
"Mr. Hunt," I greeted politely.
"Are you going to join us for dinner?" Mrs. Hunt inquired.
"I suppose I should, since I'm here," he replied. "I did want to discuss some things with Edward, as well."
An extra plate was added to the dining room table, and when we sat down for the evening meal, it was an awkward atmosphere that filled the room.
"What did you want to discuss?" I asked as we began to eat, trying to ignore the tension in the air.
"Expanding production," he told me. "Your products are quite impressive, but we need to strike while the iron is hot. We need more of, well, everything. More production facilities to make more creams, and new products to act as a draw."
"You're right," I agreed, seeing his point. "What would you suggest, though?"
"Local factories are good and all, but if we're going to take the market by storm, the UK simply lacks the right locations. Expand and build overseas," Mr. Hunt declared. "I have a few ideas from my contacts about places that might serves well. Poland has a lot of cheap land right now, and there's a couple other places in Eastern Europe that are practically a steal, now that the Soviets are gone."
"I don't think that will be possible," I said slowly. "Setting up outside of the country would mean I'd have to reorganize my supply lines, and that won't be easy."
While most of my products used mundane, non-magical materials, but some still needed at least one magical ingredient to properly catalyze and produce the magical effects that made them so much more effective than anything else on the market.
And because of that, my contracts with the Greengrasses were vital, since they could get me what I needed in the bulk amounts I required. But they were a strictly English business. They didn't sell products outside of the isles. If I wanted to open a factory anywhere on the continent, I'd have to source my goods from local witches and wizards, which would mean getting more people involved, and that could cause the Statute of Secrecy to break. Which, of course, would have the ICW and the Aurors on my head immediately!
"Unfortunate," Mr. Hunt said. "If supplies are truly the problem, then perhaps it would be better to find or someone who can take care of that for you."
"I'll work something out," I replied easily. "Besides, there are plenty of old buildings here and there still in the country that can be converted into useful places. Put some money back into the economy, eh?"
'Great, now Delilah's dad is trying to buy out my businesses,' I thought to myself in barely disguised annoyance. From the glare my girlfriend shot him, she'd realized it as well. 'First Sir Briar, now him?'
Mr. Hunt was trying to take over my company before Sir Briar did, I could tell!
'Gonna have to expand a bit faster than I originally planned,' I thought to myself. 'Why oh why did I think starting with magical pharmaceuticals of all things was a good idea?'
Once more, I cursed my younger self for picking that path when I could have focused on the less glamorous but profitable waste disposal.
Luckily, with Merula Snyde working for me, the potion making processes had been significantly smoothed out and sped up, meaning it wouldn't be too difficult to set up a few more potion factories.
'Let me think, I have the resources and capacity to open two more. Better move one of them outside of England. I bet I can find some decent land somewhere in Ireland for cheap. Add some extra protection charms to deter the IRA if they come a-knocking, and that should cover things nicely.'
Yes, that was a good idea. Spread the production facilities out across the UK, not just concentrating them in London. Increase production, and see if Cyrus can get me more ingredients.
But that was a topic for later. Right now, I still had a dinner to get through, no matter how awkward it was.
111 &&& 111
"Gotten cold out there today," I commented, brushing snow off of my coat as I stepped over to the booth my dining companion had reserved for us that evening. He waved me over towards his table at the Ruby Unicornand I sat down across from him.
"It certainly has," Cyrus Greengrass said in greeting. "How much snow have you been getting?"
"Only ten centimeters, but it's likely to get twice that by next week," I told him.
"Have you ordered yet?" I inquired.
"No, I just arrived myself," he replied, and I nodded. Whether or not it was true he'd only recently gotten to the restaurant, I appreciated the fact he was waiting all the same. Not having o play any power games with Cyrus was something of a relief after dealing with Mr. Hunt and Sir Briar.
"Carmen Rouge," Cyrus said, tapping his wand against his wineglass. It filled with a red cabernet, and I tapped my own glass with one of my runic rings.
"Sparkling Cider, dealer's choice," I ordered. A spiced apple cider, perfect for the winter season, appeared within my glass.
We drank and made small talk for a bit, and then after ordering our food, we ate and chatted about recent events in the magical world. Apparently, Magical Spain was feuding with Magical South America again, specifically Peru over access to Peruvian Vipertooth dragon materials, and the Golden Horde was suffering a drought that had obliterated the recent harvest of magical herbs. Only when dessert came did we turn to discuss business.
"So, what can I do for you today, Mr. Rose?" Cyrus asked as he sampled his flan.
"I need more ingredients," I said without preamble. "More roots, more leaves, more bark… more everything."
"Expanding your business?" he inquired, even though he knew the answer already. "Unfortunately, I am stretched thin already. I've opened up four new greenhouses since the start of the year, and hired two dozen new employees, and I'm still barely able to keep up with your demands."
"I apologize," I said with a wince. "But I don't have a choice."
"Hm. I can see you have your own circumstances. And I certainly won't say anything to making more money. But there comes a limit to what I can do with my resources alone," Cyrus replied.
"That is unfortunate," I sighed.
"However, if you are that desperate for new ingredients, perhaps I can interest you in an investment opportunity?" Cyrus offered, and I blinked.
"Investment, you say?"
"Yes. The House of Greengrass has a branch family off across the pond in the States. They are rather small compared to the family business over here in Magical Britain, but there is a lot of opportunity to expand operations, especially in the wider agricultural sectors of the New World," Cyrus explained.
"You want me to help you with expanding into North America's market, and in exchange, you'll be able to get me ingredients, and cheaper, is that it?" I guessed.
"Yes, that's right," he confirmed. "And there's no better time to get in on this than right now."
The head of the house pulled out an envelope. "At the moment, MaCUSA is in a tricky position. It has partially integrated with the Muggle government in order to protect itself from the ICW, but doing so has caused some… let's call them tax discrepancies, to be brought to light. Simply put, the MaCUSA is broke due to centuries of back taxes it owes to the Muggles. And it needs money."
"They need investors," I said slowly, seeing where he was going with this.
"Yes. The magical side has always been smaller than the Muggle side, and while there is a slow but steady growth, it's not nearly enough. Add in the much larger Muggleborn population, and there is currently an unprecedent chance for us to, as my cousin would say, 'get in while the getting is good.'"
"And what businesses do you want me to invest in overseas?" I asked.
"My cousin sent me this letter, it should have some explanations for you," Cyrus said, passing me the message he'd been waving around, and I opened it up.
"Are these numbers right?" I asked after reading through it. The letter contained a list of available plots of land for sale as well as the cost of turning them into functional farms that'd grow plenty of potion ingredients. And they were big. Very big, and very cheap.
"Indeed," Cyrus nodded. "A fine deal, don't you agree?"
"Yes, it almost seems too good to be true," I muttered. "You're sure, though?"
"Absolutely! Land is currently rather cheap, and there's a lot of former estates that belonged to European Purebloods that got confiscated after the dissolution of the previous MaCUSA governing body that are collecting dust," Cyrus informed me. "And House Greengrass has a large stockpile of seeds, saplings, and cuttings, but nowhere to plant them. These purchases would help my family keep up with your constantly growing orders."
"Alright, you've convinced me," I said. "I'll invest in your new agricultural business. I'm willing to go in fifty-fifty."
"That's very generous," Cyrus said, but the grin on his face told me he'd expected nothing less from me.
"That's my middle name," I joked, and he chuckled.
"To future success, then," he said, holding up his glass for a toast, and I clinked my own against his.
"To future success," I agreed.
111 &&& 111
I woke up far too early the next day to a loud ringing and it took me a moment to realize it was my phone. Rolling out of bed with a groan I answered it.
"It better be important," I couldn't help but growl out. It was half past four in the morning! I should have had another two hours of rest before getting up for the day!
'Not to mention I have a bloody headache. Should not have done those Fire Whiskey shots with Cyrus last night,' I thought to myself with a disgruntled huff.
"Ed! Ed! Please, you've got to come over!"
I blinked as Sam's panicked voice came through the phone and the sleepiness I still had vanished.
"Sam, what's happening? What's wrong?" I asked sharply.
"It's my sister! Kate! Oh, God, please you have to hurry!"
"Inky!" I shouted. "Take me to wherever Sam is!"
A second later I felt the world shift and wobbled a bit, blinking rapidly to clear the spots out. When I opened them again, I realized I was outside a hospital.
"Shit," I uttered, and began to look around for Sam. I found him quickly, staring down at the payphone in his hands.
"Ed?" he exclaimed, spinning around upon hearing the sound of Inky's magic teleporting me over to him, and I rushed to his side.
"Sam!" I cried out.
"Ed! Thank God you're here!" he exclaimed tearfully. "It's awful! This whole month has been awful! First mum, now Kate!"
"What happened to your mum?" I asked, confused. I thought Kate was the one in trouble?
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, it's nothing important," Sam said, trying to wave my concern off, but I simply folded my arms across my chest and gave him a look. Seeing it, he winced, before sighing.
"Mum got let go the other day," he admitted.
I blinked, concerned. I hadn't heard anything like that the last time I'd been over!
"Yeah, it was… recent," Sam chuckled, though it was bitter. "Her firm was bought by another company a couple months back, and they started downsizing recently. Oh, they said they'd contact her if they had a place for her in another department, but reading between the lines, it's unlikely. Add in Kate's accident…"
"Shit, I'm sorry," I said, running a hand across my face. A part of me felt disquieted as I digested this information. I felt like something was off about the whole situation.
'Jumping at shadows comes later! Right now, my best friend needs me!' I thought, snapping myself out of my paranoid musings, and grabbed Sam's shoulder.
"Okay. It sucks that Mrs. Parson lost her job. But she's a good PR woman and she'll find a new job soon. For now, tell me everything about Kate."
"Right, right," Sam said, taking a shuddering breath. "She was out late with friends, but the car they were in hit a patch of ice and spun out. Nobody died, but everyone got banged up bad. Especially Kate. Something went wrong with the airbags and her spine… it's broken, Ed. Docs say she'll never walk again."
I stared at him in horror before shaking my head.
"What happened to her spine? Was it a clean break? Are her nerves pinched?" I demanded, trying to find out more.
"Dunno, you'd have to ask one of the nurses or doctors," Sam replied. "But… do you think some of your medicine can help her?"
He was of course referring to my potions, and I frowned, thinking it over.
"Depending on what exactly happened… maybe. But the spine is a bloody complex piece of anatomy, and doing it wrong could make things worse. So, I'd only really trust a professional."
"But nobody magical will treat her!" Sam said, wringing her hands, and I grimaced, well aware of the fact. Saint Mungos' would turn her away at the door, and the other magical hospitals in the country wouldn't be much help either for the same reason.
'However… what if she was a Squib, and not a Muggle?' I thought to myself, a mad idea popping into my head.
"Sam… what if we could make it so Kate has a chance to see a Healer?" I asked, and he blinked before instantly cottoning on to what I meant.
"I… Ed, if it helps, I'll do anything," Sam said. "If the ritual is safe… then yes. Please, save her!"
"I'll get things started immediately," I vowed and had Inky pop me to the secret warehouse.
It was bitterly cold and there wasn't much chance Kate could do the ritual standing up, so I'd have to find something else. Having Sam's sister be my first test subject for the long-ranged casting of the ritual wasn't ideal, but this was all I could do.
So, I set up the ritual circle on the floor, carefully making sure it was perfect, and then popped back to Sam.
He then led me up to his sister's room, where his parents were sitting vigil next to her bedside. They looked terrible, with faces streaked with tears and hands trembling as they held their daughter's hands. Kate was currently asleep, likely drugged to keep the pain down, and I felt a dreadful as I took in the bandages covering her.
"Mr. and Mrs. Parson?" I said softly, and they both looked over at me in shock.
"Ed? What are you doing here?" Mrs. Parson asked.
"Sam called. I came as soon as I could," I told her. She nodded, but Mr. Parson frowned.
"How? You don't live that close by and Sam only just left to call you."
"Yeah, that's…" I paused, shooting a look at Sam, who shrugged and gestured at me to get on with it. It was my show, after all, and after scowling half-heartedly at my friend I turned back to them.
"Okay. What I'm about to tell you is the truth: I believe I can help Kate."
"Help? Ed, that's… I mean, I know your herbal remedy business is going well, and you've got some fine products, but I don't think creams and oils will heal her spine," Mr. Parson said with a shake of his head, even while his wife gained a hopeful look.
"Yeah, that has to do with something else I gotta tell you, though it ties into everything, I promise," I said. "First, though…"
I took out a Silencing Ofuda and activated it before throwing it at the ceiling where it stuck fast. Sam's parents' eyes had widened when they saw the ink on the paper talisman glow.
"So! Magic is real," I began, diving right in. "But the magical folk are mostly backwards and racists and won't use their magic to heal somebody who isn't one of them. However! I have a way to possibly give Kate magic of her own, so she can get treatment. It's a longshot, and experimental, but it's her best chance to be able to walk again."
"You… I…" Mr. Parson looked like he couldn't figure out what to say, and Mrs. Parson had a conflicted look, as if she couldn't decide if I was crazy or not.
"And this method is safe?" Mrs. Parson asked desperately, finally deciding that regardless of how insane I was, if it could help her daughter she'd do it.
"It is. Sam and myself have both used it, and we're fine," I assured them. They shot a look at their son, who gave me an annoyed look for throwing him under the bus as well, but I ignored it and kept my eyes on the Parsons.
"It's your choice. You two are Kate's guardians, and she's currently unconscious so she can't make her own decision. The sooner the better, though, as I have no idea how it hard it will be to heal her the longer we wait."
"Dear," she said, placing a hand on her husband's arm. He grimaced, but eventually nodded.
"If it works…"
"It will. And thank you for trusting me," I said with a relieved smile. "Inky! Take all of us to the warehouse!"
The House Elf appeared, causing Mrs. Parson to shriek in shock and Mr. Parson to swear loudly as he shot to his feet, but before anything could happen Inky snapped his fingers and everyone was suddenly inside the warehouse with the ritual circle.
The parents staggered before turning to stare at their daughter lying peacefully next to the ritual circle, and I clapped my hands to get their attention.
"Okay! Let's do this!" I called out. "Sam! Grab one of the warming potions and give it to Kate! Then put a drop of your blood into the circle to activate it!"
"Got it!" he called back, rushing to the chest to fetch what I'd told him to grab. His parents just stood there dumbly, unsure of what to do, but simply watched as Sam poured the fire-colored potion down his sister's throat.
"Please be okay," Sam murmured before pricking his thumb on a pocket knife and let the crimson bead fall onto the ritual circle. It burned with light and flashed brightly, and Kate started to glow and twitch. However, to my absolute surprise, so too did her parents. They acted like they had bugs crawling all over them, and scratching at their bodies in confusion.
"Huh," I uttered, taken aback. I had not expected that outcome.
"What? What?" Mr. Parson asked, blinking the stars from his eyes as the ritual circle stopped glowing. "What happened? Is she okay?"
I glanced at Inky, who nodded in confirmation as he sensed my query, and I chuckled.
"Congrats, Mr. and Mrs. Parson. Your daughter is okay. The ritual was a success. She's a magical girl now," I informed them with a smile. "And good news! You two are also now magical!"
"Huh?!" they both exclaimed, Sam joining in. I wasn't able to hide my smirk at their expressions. Priceless!
"Yeah, it seems you were close enough to the ritual to get some backwash," I explained. "I also think the fact Sam used his own blood played some part in it. I'm surprised, I thought you two would need some magical energy to jump start it, but perhaps the ritual was enough? More testing required…"
I trailed off, then coughed when I saw the looks they were giving me. "Sorry, rambling a little. Ignore me. Inky, take us back to the hospital, please."
A second dizzying bit of elf-based teleportation later, and we were back in Kate's hospital room before anybody even noticed we'd been gone.
"I… did that really just happen?" Mr. Parson asked in disbelief, looking around while Mrs. Parson looked dazed. From the hospital to the warehouse and then back again, all in a couple minutes. It was enough to make your head spin, and I sympathized with their plight.
"It did," I confirmed. "I'll contact a magical hospital, see if they can't get somebody over here to at least look her over. If that doesn't work, I'll make inquiries with some other people I know to hire a personal healer to do what they can."
I then turned and walked out before the Silencing Ofuda burnt up. "Have fun explaining everything to them, Sam! You have an hour before the talisman breaks!"
I grinned to myself as his parents began to shout at him and I snuck out, feeling good about everything.
'So, that wasn't how I expected my day to start,' I thought to myself, before yawning. 'Ugh. Better grab some coffee or I'll crash halfway through class. Can't have that. Today's exam day!'
I had Inky take me back home so I could get ready for my Winter Midterms later in the morning. I need to pass them all so I could get ready to grab my diploma early!
Chapter 73: Chapter 73: Medical Magic
Chapter Text
Chapter 73: Medical Magic
"Are you serious?!" I demanded angrily.
"Sir, I have told already that I do not sell to Squibs. Now please leave, you are disrupting my business," she huffed.
"I am trying to give you business, you daft bint," I angrily spat at her. "You're the one refusing to sell me anything!"
"Enough of this. Your stench is ruining my nose," the storeowner huffed, tilting her nose upwards at me.
"I'm surprised you can smell anything, considering how much vile shit you're spewing," I hissed.
"Leave, or I will call the Auror!" she snapped angrily.
"Calling the pigs as soon as somebody calls you out on your crap, huh?" I laughed darkly. "How very fitting for a bigot. Are you gonna call your Death Eater husband to beat me up, next?"
I then shot a look at the sleeves of her robe. "Or perhaps you were the Death Eater in the relationship."
"How dare you!" she exclaimed angrily.
"Roll up your sleeves and prove me wrong," I shot back.
Tellingly, she didn't, and simply trembled in rage while some of the other shoppers who'd been watching the interaction began to murmur amongst themselves.
After a moment longer of staring each other down I turned and walked off, flipping her the bird as I left the store.
"Bloody tosser," I snarled as I stomped out.
Unfortunately, that was the last place in the country and I was all out of options. Legal ones, at least. I considered taking a trip to Knocturn Alley, but after a bit decided not to. The back-alley surgeons – or whatever equivalent they had – were too risky to try on short notice.
Two days. Two whole days since Kate had her accident and I turned her into a witch! And yet not a single one of the hospitals or shops that sold magical medicine I visited would agree to heal her!
St. Mungo's Hospital had refused to treat somebody who wasn't in the system, and since most Squibs did not get registered as citizens in the Ministry of Magic, there was nothing they could do. Frustrating, but ultimately understandable.
Trying to give her citizenship would take too long. Upwards of a year unless I was willing to pay absurd bribes to move things along. And even then, that would take weeks at best since no matter how efficient magic made some things, bureaucracy would forever grind slowly.
That left all the other magical healing facilities. Unfortunately, they were either run by Pureblood bigots would sooner spit on a Squib than help, or worried about being targeted by said Pureblood bigots for healing a Squib. I had been turned away from all of them, and was this close to using my money to just buy their businesses wholesale and toss them out onto the streets while using their resources to heal Kate.
I did not do that, however. That would raise some eyebrows and I might get a visit from the Aurors at best, the Death Eaters at worst. And both outcomes would draw too much attention to me.
'I might have to see what sort of magical healing France or the U.S. have available,' I thought to myself with an annoyed grimaced as I stopped through Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron.
"You look like somebody pissed in your butterbeer, Ed," a familiar voice called out, and I turned to see Sirius Black sitting at a table with a pint of ale in front of him. He waved me over and I did so, feeling like I needed a break.
"Afternoon," I said, sitting down at the table across from the Animagus. "What're you up to?"
"Just had lunch with a couple of my family's solicitors and financial advisors," he replied. "Got to stay on top of everything, you know?"
"I do," I said, wincing as I thought about all the paperwork I'd been ignoring while trying to get help for Kate.
"So, like I said, you've got the look of somebody who's had a bad day," Sirius continued. "Wanna say something about it?"
"It's just… I've tried every single place outside of Knockturn Alley, and none of them can help Kate," I sighed. "Some are just being bigots, others are cowards. Either way, it's the same result."
"Eeesh, that sounds…" Sirius trailed off. "Bad."
"No kidding. And I even dressed up in my fancy wizard robes in the hopes it might make things easier," I grumbled, tugging on my unflattering robe. It was such a bland and unappealing style of clothing, but the magical stores would take me even less seriously without it.
Sirius nodded slowly, sympathy gleaming in his eyes, along with something else.
"I might be able to help," Sirius said slowly and I looked up at him eagerly.
"Are you sure?" I asked, and he nodded.
"Andy – sorry, Andromeda – is a Medi-Witch. She has the knowledge and training to perform a medical check and even heal all sorts of various issues."
"Your cousin?" I inquired, and when he nodded, I leaned in. "You think you can convince her to heal Kate?"
"Oh, absolutely," he replied. "She takes her oath to help and heal seriously. Doesn't matter if they're a Squib or a witch, she'll treat them fairly."
He then folded his arms. "She'll probably have… questions, though, if we take Sam's sister to her."
I frowned at that. "What? Why? Can't we just pretend she's a Squib?"
"Do you want to run the risk of Andy finding out she was a Muggle until a few days ago?" Sirius inquired.
"Could she do that?" I asked nervously. Was there a spell like that?
"I'm no expert on medical diagnostic spells, but you can't rule that possibility out," he pointed out. "Plus… a whole family of Squibs? Not exactly common. She'll think something is up."
"She knows Sam is… Squib-adjacent, so surely it'd make sense his sister has the chance to be one?" I asked.
"Sure, but didn't you say her parents also got hit by the ritual, too?" Sirius asked, and I blinked before slapping my forehead. I'd almost forgotten that!
"Damn, you're right," I muttered. 9 times out of 10, if two Squibs had a kid, it would be a fully magical child. Not that it wasn't impossible for a pair of Squib parents to have two offspring who were also Squibs, but it would be extremely rare and unusual.
"What do you think?" I inquired, looking back to Sirius. "You clearly have a plan, or you wouldn't have come to me with the idea."
"We bring 'em in. Both Andy and Ed," he replied.
"Bring them in? On… everything?" I asked, waving a hand vaguely.
"Yeah. The businesses, the rituals, Moldy Voldy's return… everything," Sirius said with a firm nod.
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "Okay… do you think they can handle? Keep it a secret? Would I need to use Oath Binding Ink and NDAs?"
"I think they won't need any of that and will join straight up," Sirius said. "They do not like the current system, and had been considering moving to America for a while now to get away from it all. Heck, you could sweeten the deal by offering to hire Ed."
"What does Ed – and doesn't that feel weird to call another guy by my name – do as a job?" I wondered.
"Ed works at a magical lawfirm, but despite several years of loyal, hard work, he's never gotten a promotion or an offer to make partner," Sirius said in disgust. "The reason? He's Muggleborn. Even after I brought Andy back into the fold he's still being overlooked for Purebloods with half the talent."
I blinked. "A magical lawyer?" I asked, intrigued.
"Thought that might catch your interest," Sirius smirked. "Yeah, he could help you with your contracts, both magical and mundane. And I know you need somebody you can trust in that position."
"Yeah, I really could," I muttered, before nodding. "Alright, you've convinced me. But can you convince them?"
"I'll let you meet them to make the job offer," Sirius told me. "As well as plead your case to heal Kate. Just be honest with 'em and they'll join us."
"You'll help, right?" I asked hopefully.
"Of course," he confirmed. "I'll call her now and set up something for tonight. Dinner sound good?"
"Yeah. Want me to bring anything?"
"Nah, it's fine," he replied, waving a hand. "Kreather is a surprisingly good cook. When he's not trying to poison me."
"Does he try that often?" I asked nervously.
"Not after I properly bonded with him," Sirius replied. "Thanks for that, by the way. It's just like my parents to not tell me about how to properly make a magical bond with a House Elf. I always had a feeling something was up with him and the way he was acting."
"You should consider getting a new one," I suggested, though I cringed a little doing so. Saying that made me sound too much like a Pureblood for my taste.
"I am. Put the paperwork in with the Ministry as soon as I got declared innocent," Sirius replied. "I knew Kreacher would be a problem, so I wanted to get on top of that."
"Smart," I said.
"I have my moments," Sirius said smugly, and I rolled my eyes at him.
"If that's all, I'll wait for the invitation to dinner," I told him.
"Yeah. Give Sam my best," Sirius said. "Oh! And before I forget, I've got some fancy stuff ready for his Christmas present. Should be great!"
"Oh? In that case, I'm quite excited," I said with a grin.
"I'll send it along when it's ready," Sirius assured me. I bid him farewell and walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, feeling a little bit better despite my lack of progress earlier.
111 &&& 111
Grimmauld Place still looked like it was one bad storm away from collapsing into a moldering ruin, but it had a few changes. Namely, bright daffodil yellow wallpaper in nearly every room. It didn't exactly make the place any more cheerful, though. Just made it look like one of those haunted liminal spaces.
"Are you ever going to renovate the place?" I wondered as I stepped inside after Sirius opened the door for me.
"What do you mean?" he asked innocently, though the tone of his voice told me that he knew exactly what he'd been doing when he'd changed the wallpaper.
I just rolled my eyes at his antics as I headed into the living room. The smell of spices hit me and my stomach rumbled.
"Smells good," I hummed.
"Kreatcher wouldn't be much of a House Elf if he couldn't cook," Sirius said, praising the wretched old creature with some backhanded praise. "Dear mother would never had tolerated eating slop, after all."
"Fair enough," I replied. "When will the Tonkses be here?"
"Soon. I thought they'd arrive before you, honestly. You know, Floo and all," he said, with made sense.
"Guess they're running late. That gives us time to have a few drinks and get our stories straight," I began, only for the fireplace nearby to flare with green flames. "Ah. Of course. Just as I say it…"
Sirius laughed at me as his cousin and her husband stepped out of the fireplace.
"Evening, Sirius," Andromeda Tonks said, waving her wand to get rid of the soot on her and Edward Tonks.
"Andy, Ed," he said with a grin. "Good to see you. Meet Ed the Second."
"It's always funny meeting somebody with my name," Edward said and I couldn't help but laugh.
"I said the same thing," I commented as we shook hands. "Nice to meet you both."
"So, what exactly did you two invite us over to talk about?" Andromeda asked, glancing at her rapscallion of a cousin.
"All sorts of stuff, but let's have dinner first," he suggested, and went into the dining room for some delicious curry.
Of course, Kreacher complained the whole time, waxing poetic over having to cook and serve 'filthy foreign Muggle muck!' but he obeyed all the same.
"Not bad," I hummed. It was not too spicy and the saffron rice was a nice touch.
"Haven't had real Indian curry in a while," Edward said. "It tastes pretty authentic, too."
"Kreacher's cooking was the one good thing about coming over here as a child," Andromeda muttered.
"Least he's not trying to poison me anymore!" Sirius joked. "How's Nymmy doing?"
"Nymphadora is doing fine," Edward replied. "She got selected by Alastor Moody for an apprenticeship. She'll be a fine Auror soon."
"Old Mad-Eye? Huh, didn't think he was still teaching," Sirius noted.
"It's his last hurrah before he retires in the Spring next year. Wants one last student to pass his teachings onto," Andromeda replied, before snorting. "Although sometimes I think he's just looking for an excuse to put somebody through that bootcamp of his and legally get away with it."
"I remember that," Sirius said with a wince. "Me and James could barely make it through… boy did it suck. Props to Nym if she makes it through in one piece, though."
"You're Sam's friend, right?" Andromeda suddenly asked, seeming to realize who I was halfway through dinner.
"Yeah," I confirmed.
"…I see," she muttered, before glaring at Sirius. "You want me to heal Sam's sister, don't you?"
"Damn, saw straight through me," he muttered, shooting me an apologetic look.
"I've already had Nymphadora beg me for this, I do not need you to do so as well!" Andromeda groaned.
"Are you going to, though?" I asked.
"I want to, but I can't just heal a Muggle," she replied with a grimace. "Although my oath says nothing about it, there are too many conservative old fossils on the board at St. Mungo's. If they find out…"
"Don't worry about that. She's a Squib," I told her, and she blinked, looking at me in bewilderment.
"No she isn't," Andromeda replied.
"Things have changed," I told her, before glancing at Sirius. He nodded and threw up a few charms to block all sorts of spying, scrying, and eavesdropping around the table.
"What is this?" Andromeda demanded, glaring at both of us. Edward put a calming hand on her arm, and she settled down a little. Still glared, though.
"There's a few things to go over, but the first one is Voldemort is still alive," I said, breaking the ice by dropping a truth-bomb. Both of them flinched back, and Sirius nodded solemnly.
"It's true. He made Horcruxes."
"Horcruxes?!" Andromeda demanded. "PLURAL?!"
"You know of them, then?" I asked.
"I'm a Black," she retorted, as if that explained everything. Which, to be fair, it sort of did.
"Well, he made a bunch, but we've managed to destroy a few," I said.
"Regulus… he died getting his hands on one," Sirius revealed sadly, and Andromeda gasped.
"No!" she exclaimed.
"He brought it back from where the Dark Tosser hid it, but didn't manage to destroy it. I did though. I finished the job. I'm just ashamed it took me until last year to do so," Sirius whispered.
"Destroyed the… how many?" she demanded. "And how do you know?!"
"Let me tell you everything," I said softly.
And so I did. Everything that I'd gotten up to with Sirius and Remus, along with what had gone on in Hogwarts the last few years. Add in the revelations about the inevitable exposure of the Magical World and the Grand Ritual Flamel had devised to reverse the slow decline of magic… it was completely understandable that both Tonkses looked shell-shocked by the time I was done.
"So, that's the long and short of it," Sirius said. "What do you think?"
Andromeda glanced over at the lie-detecting Russian Nesting Doll that the Animagus had helpfully put onto the table, noting how it hadn't created a single doll.
"It's all true?" she whispered to herself.
She didn't want to believe it, but her cousin wasn't crazy enough to make up something like that, or worse, believe it was true even if it was a lie. She glanced at me, and grabbed Edward's hand tightly.
"So, what do you think? Wanna join our secret conspiracy to save the world?" Sirius asked with a joking tone.
"I want to see this ritual in action," Andromeda finally said, giving her first demand. "And then I want to know what your other plans are."
"We're still discussing what to do about Voldemort," I admitted. "We have foreknowledge that we're unsure of how to use. But I can tell you more about the plans we have to deal with the fading of magic."
She nodded sharply. "I don't like anything you've just told us… but you're not lying. Ed?"
"Yeah. I've always suspected the Statute of Secrecy wouldn't last forever. Didn't even think it'd last another century. Don't like being proved right, so I'm in, too," Edward confirmed, eyes shining with determination.
"So, does that mean you'll heal Kate?" I asked.
"…Yes," Andromeda replied. "I'll go see her tomorrow. Which Hospital is she in?"
"West London General," I informed her. "Room 219."
"I'll have her back on her feet in no time," she vowed, and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. Sighing in relief, I gave her a grateful nod before sitting up straight.
"Now that that is over… Mr. Tonks? I'd like to hire you," I said, turning to the magical lawyer. He blinked in surprise before gaining an intrigued look.
"Let's negotiate, then," he said and I grinned at him.
111 &&& 111
Andromeda had been skeptical of my claims of the Statute falling in a couple decades, to say nothing of the claim that magic itself would soon fade and cease to exist. To prove it to her, I presented the documents Flamel had written.
The famous alchemist's research was thorough, and the data was impossible to deny. Andromeda had had no choice but to accept the facts: I'd been telling the truth and the only way forward that made sense was the path Flamel had laid out through his Grand Ritual.
However, things did not end there. The Tonkses did not want to keep their daughter in the dark about this. Nor were they exactly pleased by Sam keeping this from her.
Some arguing later, and we finally came to a compromise: Sam and Nym would be called to the house and the former would tell the latter about everything, coming clean. If Nym couldn't handle it and refused to agree to keep the secrets and work with us, an Oblivation courtesy of her mother would ensure things would remain safe.
Luckily, Nym had been understanding. Well, after a bit of shouting at Sam, at least. They made up pretty quickly, though. They were sickeningly in love.
'And honestly, it didn't seem like Nym cared at all about us breaking the Statute of Secrecy or revealing that the world she once knew would end in the near future,' I mused to myself as the car pulled up to the Parson's house.
'Thrill Seeker' would best describe the Metamorphmagus, as the young woman was the sort who loved adventure and danger. Why she hadn't become a Curse Breaker or Hit Witch was a mystery to everyone who knew her. Perhaps she'd thought being an Auror would be more fraught with danger, like in the movies and stories?
'Those always tend to gloss over how mind numbingly dull things are when crime isn't happening,' I thought with a snort as I parked the car outside the house before getting out.
The end result was all that mattered, in the end. Nym joined our secret little group and was let in on a bunch of stuff.
I couldn't deny the benefits having a person inside the Aurors who knew what we were up to and could run interference if necessary.
'Hopefully it won't come to that,' I thought to myself as I walked up to the door, thinking instead about the good news.
Two days ago, Andromeda had upheld her side of the deal and healed Kate's back. The teenager had been back on her feet, and the healer had Oblivated doctors and nurses at the hospital and made sure the paperwork would be altered. As far as everyone knew, Kate Parson had suffered a few bruised but was otherwise completely fine. An early Christmas miracle.
'If only they knew,' I thought to myself as I knocked on the door.
"Welcome!" Mrs. Parson called out as she opened the door. A moment later she swept me up into a crushing hug.
"H-hello, Mrs. Parson," I choked out. "How's Kate?"
"She's doing well," she replied. "Thank you so much for helping, Ed."
"I didn't do much," I replied. "It was Mrs. Tonks who healed her."
"Yes, and she will always have my gratitude for that," Mrs. Parson replied. "But if not for you, Andromeda would never have come here."
"Is everyone already here?" I asked, looking away with red cheeks. I blame the cold! I was not embarrassed to hear all that praise!
"Yes," she replied with a chuckle, not at all fooled by my reaction, and she led me inside.
Inside, the rest of the family was gathered in the living room, which included Nym and Sam who were sitting together on the couch while Mr. Parson was watching sports reruns on the TV with Ed. Kate was there as well, getting a check-up from Andromeda, the witch's wand glowing as she ran it up and down her patient's body.
"Yo, Ed the Second!" Nym called out when she spotted me, waving a lazy hand my way. Sam smiled and waved as well, while Kate perked up, blushed, and then looked away, trying not to stare at me.
"I see you're using that name now as well," I drawled, ignoring Kate's obvious crush on me. She knew I was with Delilah, but one can't exactly stop infatuations that easily. At least my girlfriend seemed to think it was cute.
"If it fits," the Metamorphmagus replied with a shrug.
"You've been influenced by Sirius a little too much, methinks," Andromeda commented dryly.
"Uh-huh. And whose fault is that?" Nym asked with a smirk. "If I recall, you're the one who introduced me to my not-quite-an-uncle."
Andromeda snorted and didn't respond to her daughter's provocation, choosing instead to focus on her check-up of Kate.
"It seems like there have been no complications, issues, or other problems," the elder Tonks woman announced after a moment, tucking her wand away.
Everyone gained smiles at that. Relief, joy, and good cheer filled the house.
"Time for dinner!" Mrs. Parson called out, and everyone got up and gathered in the dining room.
"Let me help you," Andromeda offered, levitating some of the food out towards the table.
"Magic really is convenient," Sam's mom commented, watching the floating plates and dishes.
"Will I be able to do that?" Kate wondered with a hopeful note in her voice.
"Afraid not," I replied as I sat down. "You won't be able to use a wand because you got your magic too old."
"Oh," she muttered, disappointed.
"It's not all bad," Sam assured her. "You can still use magical stuff and make weaker things to help out around the house."
"Wait, is that how you've been getting your hair so shiny and smooth recently?" Kate asked, squinting at her brother suspiciously.
"Homemade magical shampoo," he confirmed.
"I want some!" she demanded.
"Sure, sure," Sam replied easily.
I smirked, knowing that my friend had asked for some ingredients so he could make the potion-based shampoo for his sister's Christmas present. I'd given them to him, of course. Plus some extra stuff for his own use.
'He's gotten better at potion-crafting,' I thought idly. 'Better than me, even!'
His talent with cooking was shining through in this instance. No matter how hard Snape or other hardline potion masters may hate the comparison, making potions really was like magical chemistry mixed with cooking. They had recipes you could strictly follow, but a personal touch always seemed to make them a little bit more effective than mass produced models.
"So, Ed, dear, what are your plans for Christmas?" Mrs. Parson inquired.
"Not much," I replied easily. "Spending some time with Delilah and then my mother. Harry won't be coming home this year. He wanted to spend time with his friends, and most of them are staying in Hogwarts over the holidays."
"Really? Is that safe?" Sam asked with a frown. "I mean, there are Dementors still hanging around."
"I agree, it's not the best idea, but I trust Harry, and Remus will be sticking around to protect him in case the Dementors get hungry," I replied, unable to hide my worries.
I was concerned that the Dementors might attack the school while Harry stayed behind at school. In the books, the soul-sucking demons had attacked the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match because of all the happiness they'd felt. Could they resist attacking the school when there were children filled with Christmas cheer sticking around? I didn't know, but I really hoped Remus could take care of things in case they did get… uppity.
'If he really has to, Remus can use the Anti-Dementor ritual I sent him. The fear of death should hopefully drive them away if they do try to do something,' I thought to myself as I served myself more steamed carrots.
The ritual was an old one, used back in the days of Dementor hunting. It supposedly 'unraveled' the spirits, reducing them to little more than ghosts, who could then be exorcised by traditional anti-ghost methods.
"What was the Minister thinking, letting those horrors stay around children?" Andromeda muttered under her breath.
"He probably wasn't," Tonks replied with a shrug. "Man's a complete boob. Couldn't find his bowler hat if it was on his head!"
"Unfortunately, as dumb as the man is, he's still in office," Edward Tonks pointed out.
"For another two years," I reminded him. "After that, I understand Madam Bones will be running."
"She has my vote!" Nym stated. "Heck, the entire Auror department does!"
"Less politics, more Christmas cheer," Mr. Parson suggested.
"Good idea, dad," Kate agreed. "Let's talk about something fun. Like magic!"
She leaned in towards me. "Can you teach me?"
"I suppose," I replied. "Take a look at the magical primers I left with Sam. Get an idea of what your options are, and then ask me again."
"Could I work for you?" Kate wondered. "Like a magical intern or something?"
"Again, let's wait and see about what you want to do, first," I suggested. "Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, Herbology… there's a couple different things you can learn about."
"Only if she finishes her homework first," Mrs. Parson interjected. "And she still has to get ready to prepare for graduation, too."
"Ugh, fine, mom!" Kate groaned, disappointed.
"Oh, right, you're almost about ready to make your way to higher education," Nym hummed. "Got to say, I'm really glad I never had to do four more years of school after leaving Hogwarts!"
"Same," her father agreed. "It's all on-the-job learning and experiences. O. are the same as a high school diploma, and if you have a N.E.W.T, that's the mundane equivalent of a Bachelors."
"Really making a guy jealous," I joked. "Only seven years of school instead of the decade-plus the rest of us have to go through is so not fair."
Everyone laughed at my comment, and I was happy. Things were going well, and I had no plans to slow down.
'Briar better watch his back,' I thought to myself as I enjoyed the excellent figgy pudding that was desert. Come the new year, I would start making plans to ensure he could no longer threaten the people I cared about.
111 &&& 111
"You got the goods?"
"Yeah, I got 'em. You gonna let me in?"
"Sure. Gimme a sec."
I unlocked the door to my apartment and opened it up, letting in an old woman.
"Did we have to act like we were doing a drug deal?" the granny asked as she brushed snow off of her coat. "Also, why did I have to come over looking like this?"
"It would throw off suspicions," I replied. "I also know that some people here are too nosey for their own good and would absolutely gossip if a young woman stopped by who wasn't my girlfriend."
I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Swear to God and Merlin they have too much free time on their hands."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," the elderly woman said. "Mum was always asking me about when she was gonna meet Sam, ambushing me when I come home from the Ministry with questions. Now that she has, she's just started asking about when I'm gonna get hitched."
I snorted and the granny stuck her tongue out at me. She then stood up straighter, and her hair suddenly rippled, going from a grey perm to a bubblegum pink mohawk. The wrinkles smoothed out, replaced with the skin of a twenty-year-old, and soon enough a completely different person was standing in front of me.
"Anyways, you never answered the first part of my question," Nymphadora 'Call me that and I'll kick yer arse!' Tonks said, folding her arms.
"Because it was funny," I replied and she rolled her eyes.
"Okay, yeah, that's true," she huffed before taking a bag out of a pocket, placing it on the table with a heavy thunk. "Here it is."
I opened the bag and removed the object within, grinning widely as I did so. Within it was a belt made of interlocking plates of silver. Runes had been carved into the plates, forming an intricate sequence of power, and when worn it would bestow a powerful gift.
"When he puts it on, it will give him a big surprise," Tonks said with a fond smile, even though there was a hint of amusement.
"Think he'll freak out?" I wondered.
"Oh, absolutely! I really wish I could see his face!" she cackled.
"I'll try to get a picture for you," I promised.
"Great! Now, there's a few things to remember," she said. "First off, Sirius and I removed the part of the curse that will make it irremovable."
"That's good," I hummed.
"It's still a cursed object, though!" Tonks warned. "We might be able to make the spell less… Dark given some time to experiment, but if he's caught wearing it Aurors may think he's been Muggle baited."
"And they'd bring in the Obliviators to wipe his mind after 'saving' him," I muttered.
"Yeah, so keep that in mind," Tonks declared.
"Gotcha," I said with a nod. "And thanks for the help."
"Hey, it's all good, I wanted to help," she replied, waving my thanks off.
She then put her hands on her hips. "By the way, is there any reason Sirius has been talking with mom and dad, recently?"
"Why are you asking me?" I asked, blinking.
"Because you're one of the few friends that old man has, duh," Tonks replied. "He's… acting weird."
"Weird how?"
"Hey, I'm the one asking the questions here!" Tonks replied.
"Right, right, sorry, Miss Auror," I said in a joking tone before tapping my chin. "Well, one reason I can think of is Sirius wants to reinstate your mother back into the Black family."
"He already did that," Tonks claimed. "I think this is something else."
I frowned, thinking hard to myself. What else was there that could make Sirius upset and start acting squirrelly?
'Better to just ask him,' I thought to myself.
"I think you should probably just ask your parents or Sirius," I said aloud.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Tonks agreed after thinking it over. "You know, if I wasn't already aware of what you guys were up to, I assume it was related to that."
"Good thing you do know. Just keep it on the downlow," I urged.
"I'm not an idiot," she huffed. "I'm being trained by Mad-Eye Moody himself, after all!"
"Yeah, that's sort of why I'm worried," I admitted. If there was anyone who could ferret out what I and the others were up to, it'd be him.
"Fair," Nym muttered with a wince, before turning back into an old woman. "Alrighty, then. Got to go before somebody at the office notices my bathroom break is taking too long."
I nodded and held the door open for her as she left. Once she was gone, I turned back to Sam's gift.
"Yeah, this is gonna be a good Christmas," I declared.
Oh, how right – and wrong – I was…
Chapter 74: Chapter 74: Christmas Chaos
Chapter Text
Chapter 74: Christmas Chaos
"Welcome, welcome!" I said cheerfully, waving Sam inside. "You're just in time for brunch!"
"Thanks," he said with a shiver. It was bitterly cold, even though it was early afternoon. The sun was gone behind thick clouds and several inches of snow had decided to blanket London overnight in a white Christmas.
A steaming mug of eggnog spiced with cinnamon and extra nutmeg appeared on the coffee table as Sam took his boots and coat off, and he sighed gratefully as he took it.
"Thank you, Inky," he said. The House Elf didn't respond, but I knew the old elf would have a massive blush on his face.
"Take a load off," Delilah offered, patting an empty couch cushion and Sam sat down next to her with a groan of relief.
My girlfriend had been over here since the morning. She'd wanted to spend some time with her parents, but at the last minute her father suddenly had 'other plans' and bailed. Her mother was naturally distraught but tried to put on a brave façade and urged Delilah to spend Christmas with me instead of her.
She hadn't been happy, but Delilah had agreed, and she'd come over. We would spend time with Sam for another couple of hours and eat a hearty Christmas brunch, and then we'd head back to the Hunts' for dinner.
'Mrs. Hunt doesn't deserve to be alone today,' I thought to myself, before looking at Delilah. 'And maybe it's time we revealed the truth to her.'
Sensing the mood, Sam cleared his throat. "Was your Christmas party any fun?" he asked Delilah.
"It was boring," she sighed. "Just old and rich people talking about old and rich things. It was only bearable because of Ed."
"Indeed, I'm very entertaining," I said with an expression of false modesty on my face. My mask broke a second later and we broke down giggling.
"Good news is that more people are remembering your name," Delilah commented after settling down and recovering from her giggle-fit. "Last couple of years most people at the parties you've attended forgot who you were after being introduced. Now, though, with your company as a rising star, they deigned to recall who you are."
"Not sure if that's a good thing or not," I grumbled. "Some of those people… completely out of touch!"
I then gave the pot of pasta a stir. "Think it's about ready!" I called out. "Just a couple more minutes!"
"You know, I could totally help," Sam offered.
"Nah, it's fine, it's almost all done," I replied.
"At least let me set the table," he said, not wanting to sit and do nothing. I rolled my eyes but nodded.
"You know where the plates and stuff are, right?" I asked, and he nodded. He finished off his eggnog and then stood back up. With his help, the table was set and then the food was brought over to it as well.
We then sat down to a nice brunch. Pasta with a shrimp-and-garlic alfredo sauce, deviled eggs, steamed veggies, Yorkshire puddings, and a tub of peppermint ice cream for dessert. I wasn't the best cook – and Inky made the puddings and eggs – but I did a good job in my humble opinion. The happy noises everyone made as they ate certainly made me pleased with my work.
"That was good," Sam praised as he put his spoon down in his now-empty ice cream bowl.
"Thanks, that means a lot from the future winner of the British Baking Battle," I told him, and he blinked.
"Uh, what?" he asked. "I'm not participating in that."
"Oh, no, did I spoil the surprise?" I asked, looking towards Delilah who pouted at me.
"Yes, you did," she huffed, before pulling out an envelope. "Here you go, Sam."
He took it, confused, but when he opened it, his eyes widened. Inside the envelope was a Christmas card. But inside that was a folded-up registration form for the British Baking Battle show, the biggest culinary competition on TV right now, with some of his info on it.
"I got a registration form through some friends," Delilah told a stunned Sam. "Just finish filling it out and submit it before January 10th and you should get an invite to a tryout in late February. If you pass, you'll be onboard for the March filming of the show."
"I-I don't believe it!" Sam gasped. "Thank you so much!"
"No worries," Delilah assured him. "I'm looking forward to seeing you win!"
"Same," I agreed. "You're doing great at culinary school, and if you managing to pass the tryouts – which you will – it will totally boost your chances of finding a place to work after you graduate."
"I'm not going to waste this opportunity!" he declared eagerly.
"Oh, and before you fill the form out, there's one thing I need to give you," I told him. "My present."
I got up and grabbed his gift out of the closest, placing it on the table in front of him. Festive wrapping paper decorated the box-shaped present and he eyed it curiously, surprised by the size.
"And this is for you, Sam," I declared. "It's from me, Sirius, and Nym."
"All three of you got me a gift?" he asked as he accepted the wrapped object.
"Sure did! I supplied the materials, Nym and Sirius did the enchanting," I said.
Curious, Sam peeled away the paper, revealing a fancy wooden box made of walnut. I'd made it myself, covering it in protective runes. It'd be hard to break or scuff it, and there were some special runic sequences to prevent anybody from detecting the contents as being out of the ordinary.
Sam admired the box for a moment, running a hand over the surface of the lid, before opening it up. Nestled within was the silver belt Nym had delivered the other day, the interlocking plates clinking softly as Sam picked it up.
"Whoa," he murmured.
"It's an enchanted belt," I told him with a grin. "Nice and fancy. Go and try it on! It adjusts to any size and won't ever accidentally fall off!"
"Looks really expensive," Sam murmured.
"The silver came from the recycling plant and it took a couple minutes for your girlfriend and the weirdo to add the enchantments," I assured him. "Come on, I now you'll love it!"
After a moment he nodded, and put it on, buckling it around his waist. The moment the two halves clicked together, however, a change overcame Sam.
He shrunk two inches, and his waist became narrower. Fingers turned slender and his limbs lost a bit of muscle tone. The hair on his head – including his eyelashes – grew longer, his chest and hips began to swell, and a few seconds later Sam the Man was gone, replaced by Samantha the Woman.
"W-what?" he – now she – whispered in shock, staring at her hands.
Delilah grinned as she snapped a picture with a camera Inky had sneakily provided, and I helpfully held up a mirror for him.
"Is this… me?" Sam whispered in disbelief as she touched her face, then her waist.
"This is what you would look like if you'd been born in the body of a woman," I confirmed.
"How?" she asked, still in awe.
"Technically, it's a curse," I admitted. "The Black family had a lot of nasty ways to punish people without killing them. The Gender Swapping Curse was one of 'em. It turns a woman into a man, or vice-versa."
I pointed at the belt. "Sirius and Nym toned it down a bit. You can remove the belt whenever you wish, so you're not stuck in that form. Keep in mind though that an aspect of the curse is that it makes people assume you've always been whatever gender you currently are, but it only affects those without magic, so when you wear it, everyone around you will think you've always been a woman. And when you take it off, the effect fades. So, uh, don't undress around people or it will blow their minds."
"Also, because it's cursed, Aurors might notice and think it's Muggle baiting," Delilah added.
"Yeah, that, too," I nodded. "So careful when you walk around places near the magical hotspots in London."
"Thank you," Sam whispered, starting to tear up, and Delilah and I quickly wrapped her up in a hug.
"We're there for ya," I promised. "It's a big change, but you'll always be you, no matter the gender. You'll always be my best friend."
"Thank you," she repeated, but this time there was relief in her voice.
"This is gonna be an awkward conversation with my parents," Sam sighed after wiping away her tears of joy, and Delilah and I winced.
"We could help?" Delilah offered.
"No, this is something I should do myself," Sam admitted. "I know they know I'm... different, but I suppose this will really drive it home for them."
I patted her back. There wasn't much else to say or do beyond that.
"Now I feel like my own gifts for you two aren't as good," Sam claimed with a weak chuckle a moment later.
"Anything you give us is great and appreciated," Delilah assured him. "It's the thought that counts."
"But, if you really do wanna get us something extra nice, I've wanted to treat Delilah to a special New Years dinner," I said leadingly and Sam giggled.
"Yeah, I can do that for you two," she said.
"Great! Have I told you how glad I am to have a professional chef as a friend? Because I'm very glad," I told Sam. She swatted my arm and Delilah rolled her eyes at my antics.
After that, Sam gave us the presents she'd gotten for us. Sam knew what I liked and got me a bunch of fancy dice and a couple new table top figurines I was going to have a fun time painting. Delilah got a bunch of hair and skincare products Sam had brewed herself.
"Thank you," I said to Sam and Deliah. "This has been a great Christmas."
"Shush, the queen is on," Delilah said, nudging me. I nodded and turned back to the TV to watch the queen give her traditional Christmas speech.
'Yes, this is a fine end to the year,' I thought to myself. Yet I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps something unpleasant was about to come after a string of successes.
111 &&& 111
Harry POV
The Boy Who Lived had been surprised when so many people had decided to stay at Hogwarts this year. With the Dementors prowling the grounds, the very idea of sticking nearby should have scared off most students.
'I only did so in order to spend time with Remus – I mean Professor Lupin,' Harry thought to himself. Ron and the Weasleys were sticking around, as were Susan, Hannah, the Patils, and Neville, to name a few.
'Though in Neville's case, I think his Gran wants to make sure he's safe. And with the man who helped torture his parents on the loose, she probably doesn't want Neville to be somewhere without heavy duty wards,' Harry mused. 'And despite what had happened last year… and the year before that… come to think of it, Hogwarts actually isn't that same at all.'
He frowned to himself as that thought crossed his mind, but shook it off in favor of diving into the Christmas lunch that had been prepared. The tables in the Great Hall had been replaced with a single one, and everybody left in the castle, student and faculty alike, was sitting at it as they tucked into a mountain of food.
Duck, turkey, roast beef, potatoes in a dozen different styles, and of course puddings and pies had been provided by the House Elves, and Harry was pretty sure they'd gone all out this year.
Harry then chuckled as Ron popped a cracker and was immediately attacked by a big, Christmas colored goose that honked, stole his pie, and then ran off before anyone could catch it.
"Bleh!" Ron coughed, spitting out a feather. "What is with all the birds this year?!"
"Dunno," Harry shrugged. His own popper had created a pink rooster while Neville had a miniature vulture perched on his head.
"According to Professor Trelawny, birds are representative of transformation," Parvati suggested, glancing over at the Divination teacher who was drinking a bottle of sherry.
"Indeed, indeed! The avian form is a herald of transformation, but also transcendence! Depending on the species, it could mean great fortune approaches… or great doom!" the Seer declared, sounding a little sloshed.
While Parvati gushed over her teacher, Padma – and a few other people – rolled their eyes at her proclamation.
"It's probably doom for me," Neville sighed as the vulture pecked at his head. Hannah tried to shoo it away but it refused to budge.
Silently thanking Ed for suggesting he not take Divination this year, Harry instead turned to Remus. "Is there any chance we can have another lesson?"
"Certainly," the secret werewolf replied. "I think after tonight, there will be plenty of cheer and pleasant memories to draw upon."
Harry nodded, pleased by that. He'd been trying for more than a month to get somewhere with his Patronus. So far, he'd found he could create a couple silver sparks, but that was it. The spell was hard, but he was determined to master it.
'And, since the full moon is a couple days away, this will be the last time Professor Lupin will be able to help before then,' Harry thought to himself.
The cursed teacher always got 'sick' during and a day after the full moon. But even before that, a few days leading up to it he got… twitchy. As if the curse could sense it was almost time to awaken. And it was much harder for him to focus on something as complicated as the Patronus spell with the wolf clawing at the back of his mind.
"Harry! Did you get my gift?"
The Boy Who Lived turned his head to look at Susan, who was looking at him expectantly, and he nodded.
"I did. Thank you, it was a useful present."
It really was. The Hufflepuff had given Harry a Quill of Many Colors, which could create ink in over seven different colors. A fun little enchanted object, but the gift was special because it had been Susan giving it to him.
"I also liked yours," she informed Harry, and that made him smile in relief.
"That's great. I wasn't sure if you'd like an enchanted hat."
"It keeps my hair perfect and dry? What's not to love?" she replied with a giggle.
There was some more chatting with the others, but most were too busy eating to do much small talk. Afterwards, people ended up lazing around the castle for a few hours, until the mid-afternoon rolled around, and somebody suggested a game before dinner.
"WOOO!" Fred called out as a snowball came flying. "Missed me!"
A dozen more came hurtling towards him, propelled by spells, and the red-headed twin cackled as he leapt away, countering the flying snowballs with some of his own.
Yes, the students had decided to have a massive snowball fight. And Harry was having a great time trying to catch the Weasley twins who had decided to challenge everyone to a fight.
And they were winning. Of course, when someone cast jinxes onto the snowballs or mixed potions with funny effects into the snow, it created some, dare Harry say it, interesting effects?
"We need to win," Susan muttered as she watched the red-heads beat everyone back. "Get your cloak."
"Don't you think using an Invisibility Cloak to win a snowball match is… cheating?" Harry asked. "Or overkill?"
"No," she replied, shooting him a glare. "I am not going to lose my last bottle of Phoenix Peach shampoo to them!"
"I'm not the one who bet that," Harry pointed out. "If you didn't want to lose it, you shouldn't have challenged the twins."
"That's a lot of excuses I'm hearing and not a lot of helping," Susan said with a pout, and he winced, feeling his face heat up a little at the innocent expression she turned on him.
Harry tried to resist. Really, he did! But his burgeoning hormones betrayed him and the cute pleading look Susan was giving him made his stomach do kickflips. With great reluctance he nodded.
"Fine, I'll grab the cloak," he muttered. Why did he think it was a good idea to tell his friends he had one? They always wanted to borrow it! Even Hermione! Though she just wanted to use it to sneak into the restricted section of the Library.
"I'll wait for you," she replied, before looking up at the sky. It was getting late and the sun was going down. And was it getting colder, too?
Harry shrugged and went up to the Gryffindor tower and fetched his cloak. It shimmered in the light, and he couldn't resist running a hand over the silken surface.
After admiring it for a bit longer, he brought it with him outside, and noticed two things: Susan had decided to hang around near the entrance to keep warm, while the snowball fight had drifted a bit, heading away from the edge of the lake and was now closer to the Forbidden Forest.
'And it's definitely gotten colder and darker all of a sudden,' Harry thought with a shiver. The sun was gone, hidden behind dark clouds, and a stiff breeze was sending a biting chill through the area.
"We should end this quickly," he suggested to Susan.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna let the twins take my hair care products!" she declared.
Harry rolled his eyes but threw the cloak up around them, and began to make their way across the snow-covered field. They left a trail of footprints, but Susan used her wand to cover their tracks.
As they got closer, and undetected by the twins, she began to create several snowballs. When the duo got too close, Susan acted, and unleashed a barrage of ice and snow upon them, and the twins yelped in shock as they were pelted and buried under a small hill's worth of frozen water.
"Gah! Cheaters!" George cried out as Harry lowered the cloak, revealing the two of them to the rest.
"You never said we couldn't use Invisibility Cloaks!" Susan laughed. "And that means it's legal! Victory is mine!"
"She got us there, brother of mine," Fred groaned as he pulled himself out of the snowdrift.
"Bah! She won the battle, but not the war!" George declared as the rest of the students began to gather together. "Tomorrow shall be different!"
"Bring it on!" Ron declared, his competitiveness enkindled, and Neville nodded along, a surprisingly determined expression on his face.
Cheerful laughter rang out as everyone began to make their way back to the castle, though when another cold gust of air blew past, the mirth died out as everyone couldn't help but shudder.
"Temperature dropped," Parvati commented, blowing on her hands.
"Sure did," Ginny agreed. "Pretty fast, too."
"Sun's gone. Probably had something to do with it," Neville suggested.
"The Nargles are scared," Luna suddenly announced, looking around worriedly.
"Pardon?" Hannah asked, squinting at the Ravenclaw.
"Ignore her, she says things like that," Padma said, waving it off.
Harry frowned, and not just because he disliked how dismissive that sounded, but also because he felt something… wrong in the air.
"We need to get back to the castle. Now," he announced as he suddenly took off faster.
"Harry?" Susan asked, hurrying along after him.
"There's… I dunno, something bad is coming," Harry replied.
And then the icy chill wrapping around them dug even deeper, sinking into their bones and chilling their blood.
"W-what's going on?" Susan gasped, her breath turning to icy mist in front of her, eyes darting around fearfully.
"Dementors," Harry hissed in horrified realization. "Dementors! Run!"
Nobody needed any further encouragement and the students booked it, rushing for the safety of the castle. Yet the monstrous guards of Azkaban had predicted this, and a group of the shrouded creatures flew out of the Forbidden Forest, cutting the stragglers off from Harry and Susan, who'd pulled ahead of the group earlier.
"No!" Susan screamed. "Hannah!"
"Run! Susan, run! Get help!" her fellow Hufflepuff shouted back as they began to cluster together, the temperature plunging. Frost began to creep across every surface as the Dementors, all thirty-three that had been assigned to guard Hogwarts, began to circle around the other students. They ignored Harry and Susan, content to menace the others they'd trapped for now.
"E-Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted, whipping out his wand and trying to blast the Dementors, but the spell sputtered and failed, wisps of silver smoke seeping from the tip of his wand.
Unfortunately, that failed attack seemed to attract their attention, and a trio of Dementors broke off from the main group and began to glide towards them.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry tried again, but again, it did not work, the magic fizzling out into nothingness.
"Stop them! Harry, please!" Susan begged.
"I-I'm trying!" Harry shouted, waving his wand wildly. Silver sparks and mist spurted out but nothing like the impressive quicksilver beast Professor Lupin had been able to conjure in their lessons.
"GAH!" Susan exclaimed, partly in fear, partly in annoyance, and she grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pulled him in, planting a deep kiss on his lip. When she pulled away there was a loud pop. "There! Did that help?!"
"Wuh?" Harry burbled, before blushing heavily. "Wh-why would that help?!"
"Didn't you say a Patronus needed good memories?!" she shouted back.
"I did, but-!"
"Are you saying that you didn't enjoy it?!"
"Maybe this isn't the best time to do this!" Harry shouted back, before moving to keep himself between the Dementors and Susan.
The cloak-wearing creatures continued to float forward, the chill of winter growing increasingly worse and the shivering just wouldn't stop. The students suddenly began to collapse into the snow, unable to handle the cold and the mind-numbing terror anymore.
Harry gasped in horror as he saw one of them start to lower itself towards an unconscious Neville, and the rest continued to circle around his fallen friends like ragged vultures.
'No… No! I won't let them!' Harry thought to himself, determination pushing away the fear.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry screamed. Fear for his friends. Love for them, too. And overall, a desire to protect. It overwhelmed him, flooding through his body and into his wand, and from the tip an explosion of silver fire enveloped the field.
The Dementors screamed in pain and terror, recoiling from the flames that writhed across the snow but did not melt it. The same could not be said of the soul-sucking abominations. The cloaks of the ones closest to the blast had ignored, and were devoured by the silvery blaze, turned into screaming pyres that were turned to ash and shadows.
However, as impressive and satisfying as the sight was, Harry couldn't tear his eyes from the Patronus that had appeared in the snow.
It was a deer. It had dappled hide, like a fawn. It had a slender, almost feminine body shape, yet also had a rack of antlers like a stag, made from burning golden fire. When it exhaled, spurts of silver sparks escaped its nostrils and mouth.
"Harry!" the voice of a woman called out to him, a voice he'd only ever heard once: in the dream-like Limbo after his near-death experience at the fang of the Basilisk.
"Attaboy!" the voice of a man called out to him, and though he'd never heard it before, Harry knew it was filled with paternal pride and love, just as the former was suffused with motherly love.
"FATEBREAKER." This voice was deep and rumbling, one that stabbed into his skull and drove him to his knees, all other noises drowned out by the single word. It had no gender. It was simply power and the essence of WINTER and the HUNT mingling into a singular entity.
It was the Ceryneian Hind, sacred cervid of Artemis and one of the beasts hunted by Hercules for his Trials.
It was the Horned God of the Wild, Cernunnos, hunt master of the Wild Hunt.
It was the hunted, the hunter, and the embodiment of one who denies their fate to be solely one or the other.
It glanced down at the Invisibility Cloak that lay at Harry's side, discarded in the panic. The mystical artifact shimmered with reflected moonlight… and something else, before the Beast of the Hunt turned away, its attention on the Dementors.
"Demons who refused to return to the Other Side at the Dawn of Man's Age… BURN."
It leapt at the Dementors, goring one and causing the rest to flee in terror as the impaled monster ignited with golden fire. They did not get far, and were pierced and trampled without mercy. Within ten seconds, thirty-three Dementors ceased to exist.
When it's work was done, the Patronus turned back to Harry and Susan, the latter trembling as she clutched onto Harry's side, but refusing the flee.
"You summoned me," it uttered, the voice no longer like a spike driving into his skull. It was still unpleasant, though, and the Boy Who Lived had his vision start to spin. "Do not do so again."
"Y-yes," Harry muttered, still not sure how he'd done it in the first place. Sensing his confusion, the God-Beast let out something that was like a chuckle.
"I am a relic beyond time, from a bygone age. Only a powerful artifact attuned to the Other Side could call for me again. And you possess such a thing. The Shrouded Deathly Hallow. Your spell latched onto it, summoning me. A minor Avatar, instead of my full radiance, but an impressive feat for a mere mortal… though given you've been touched by Death and Fate, I suppose it makes sense."
The golden horned creature shook its head before dissolving away into sparks of silver and gold. "Should you ever make it to the Other Side, I will gladly welcome you into the Wild Hunt."
And with that, it was gone, as if it'd never been.
"D-did that just happen?" Susan whispered.
"I dunno. Maybe," Harry wheezed out. "Are they… okay?"
The Hufflepuff looked over at the unconscious bodies lying in the snow and winced, pushing herself to her feet to check. A quick examination to see if they were still breathing (they all were) was followed by a few Warming Charms to ensure they weren't going to freeze.
"They're fine," she assured Harry. "They're gonna be okay."
In the distance, shouting was coming from the castle, and the duo turned around. They saw the teachers spilling out of the front gates, rushing towards them with wands drawn.
'Better late than never,' Harry thought to himself in relief. He did take a moment to stuff his Invisibility Cloak into a pocket, all while wondering if maybe, it wasn't something… more.
'What did the deer call it? A Deathly Hallow?' Harry thought. He needed to look this up and find out more. Hermione would certainly like the chance to do some research, at least.
For now, though, he had to take care of his friends – and answer the questions of the professors as best he could. He really didn't think they would accept 'Oh, I summoned a magical deer-god that burned the Dementors to death after they tried to eat our souls' as an answer.
Chapter 75: Chapter 75: New Year's Date
Chapter Text
Chapter 75: New Year's Date
I rubbed my eyes, feeling incredibly exhausted.
'I supposed that's what I get for staying up for nearly 48 hours straight,' I thought to myself, stretching a bit.
Still, I'd had no other choice. I'd spent the time researching everything I could on the events that Harry told me had happened on Christmas. And while I'd gotten some information… it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough to answer any of my questions.
'I can't believe Harry summoned some sort of god-like entity after nearly getting his soul nom'ed on by a Dementor – learning about the Deathly Hallows in the process – and they didn't think to alert me, his guardian.'
The fact I'd had to learn about this incident from a letter Harry sent me, and not an official correspondence from Hogwarts, had made me angry, and was partially what had fueled my multi-night research fugue.
This was the first evidence I'd heard of since arriving in this world of beings that could be considered 'divine.' I could never forget that this was not my first world. That my death on one world had led me to appearing in this one.
'Was there more to it than luck? Was I sent here by something… or someone?'
I didn't know, and not knowing bothered me. It had been a long time since I'd bothered to think about this topic.
Not even Flamel's journal contained much on this topic. He had plenty of intel on the Deathly Hallows – he'd encountered all three of them over his long life, though never owned any himself – but he'd had even less on the matter of gods and spirits.
They had existed in some form, that much Flamel seemed certain of. Records from ancient magical civilizations spoke of them, evidence of their presence could be found in the oldest ruins, and powerful rituals had once existed that could summon… things that weren't entirely natural or of this world.
But at some point, an event known as the Dawn of Man's Age had seen a rapid decrease in their presence. Eight thousand years ago, such entities had been rare, but visible. Three thousand years ago, they all but vanished, with only some things like the Dementors lingering.
'That's around the time of the Bronze Age Collapse and the fall of Atlantis,' I mused.
The magical societies had experienced a massive upheaval during this era as well, with magical nations falling left and right. Indeed, most magical scholars agreed that the age of mage-kings and countries ruled by magic users had ended around this time.
'The most I can find are mentions of some sort of otherworld known as the Other Side. Some kind of land of pure magic. Sort of like the Fae Realms spoken of in myths,' I thought as I closed an ancient tome that had been stuffed at the bottom of a chest the Hunches had been holding onto for generations.
It contained a decent amount of information on the Other Side, though much was speculation and hearsay from people who'd supposedly visited it. Or, more accurately, escaped, as the fae were not kind creatures and not very fond of uninvited guests.
So. Gods were real. Or, at least, something akin to them had been, at one point. They could be summoned into our world, but the ability to do so had dwindled significantly in the last few thousand years. Remnants of this 'Golden Age' still existed, the Dementors being one such vestige, but for the most part, the world had moved on.
'Right now, though, the question is what I can do with this information.'
The practical answer was 'nothing.' There were no rituals I could perform, and I wasn't willing to experiment on a Deathly Hallow to try and replicate what Harry had done. Especially as the spirit had explicitly warned Harry against doing so.
'In the end, it seems I'm back to square one,' I sighed tiredly.
There was one last thing I could try to do in order to summon a 'god'… but not yet. In another year or so, maybe. But not until then.
A jaw-cracking yawn broke me out of my thoughts, and I grumbled a little. I'd already drank too many Pepper-up Potions to take any more, and so with great reluctance I decided to end my research into this topic. For now.
With another yawn, I staggered into my bedroom and threw myself onto the bed. I needed some rest, and there wasn't much else to do for a couple more days.
When I woke an unknown amount of time later, I felt hungry and dirty, and after cleaning up in the showers I ate a large breakfast.
"Inky, how long was I asleep?" I asked when I'd sated my belly.
"Fifteen hours, young master," Inky informed me as he popped into existence next to me, and I grimaced.
"That's going to throw off my sleep schedule," I grumbled.
But complaints weren't going to solve anything, so I got to work. First, I penned a letter to Harry, telling him I had no idea about what he'd done, but not to do it again. I also suggested he ask Ron or other magicals who grew up in Magical Britain about the Deathly Hallows. Then, I told him to stay safe.
'Hopefully he won't get into a near-death situation at the end of the year,' I thought. Seeing as he'd faced the Dementors months early I felt it was a good chance he'd either have smooth sailing going forward, or something even worse would occur. I knew which option I'd prefer, but Fate was a cruel and cantankerous bitch.
After sending that letter off via Inky – I still didn't have an owl, something I felt I might need to correct eventually – I got ready for the other things I had to do.
I had a day and some change before New Years and my date with Delilah, and a bit of paperwork that my businesses had accumulated while I'd been stuck in my research.
Deciding I better get the latter done before New Years Eve, I let out a heavy sigh, diving into the annoying amount of bureaucracy that was trying to smother me.
111 &&& 111
"How do I look?" I asked Inky. The House Elf inspected me, snapped his fingers, and my tie straightened out.
"Please stop fiddling, young master," the old and loyal elf said. "You is ruining all my hard work!"
"Okay, okay, sorry," I apologized, taking my hands off of the frustrating neck piece. Inky huffed, but then he waved his hand, removing any lint or dirt that might have lingered.
"There!" he declared.
"Thanks," I said. "You don't think this is too… much, do you?"
I gestured at my outfit, but Inky shook his head.
"Young master wise to wear defenses," he replied, and I nodded slowly.
He wasn't entirely wrong. And to be fair, I had been attacked enough times that wearing clothing with protective runes wasn't paranoid, it was common sense.
"Better add some extra bits just to be safe," I muttered, putting on the shield cuffs Remus had made for me a while back a gift.
I took a deep breath, checked myself in the mirror one final time, grabbed a bouquet, and turned to Inky. "I'm ready to go."
He snapped his fingers, and I vanished, appearing in front of Delilah's apartment. She rented one so she could spend time closer to the campus, and shared it with a couple other college girls. She didn't really need to share in order to save money, but she liked it because it was 'the normal thing to do.'
I valued that about her. She didn't do whatever she wanted just because she could with her parent's money. Delilah wanted to experience life, and was willing to do it from the ground up.
Knocking on the door, it opened a minute later revealing one of Delilah's flat mates.
"Well damn, Eddy, you clean up nice!" she said with a whistle and a wink.
"Evening, Grace. Delilah ready yet?"
"Nah, but come on in and wait on the couch or something. No need to stand around like a handsome wall all night," she said, waving me in, and I followed her inside, leaning against the wall as I waited for Delilah. Her flat mate went to her room and went inside to 'help,' though I knew the real reason was to tease my girlfriend.
A few minutes of waiting later, and the door to Delilah's bedroom opened, and a cheerful, "She's ready!" came out from within, courtesy of Grace.
"Good evening, my dear," I said, giving a gentlemanly bow as Delilah stepped into the living room. "You look ravishing."
I took her hand and kissed it, and she giggled a little.
"You charmer, you," she declared.
"I have to be, in order to be worthy of such a beautiful flower such as yourself!"
"Alright, alright, slow your roll, you've already seduced me. Anymore and I won't be able to last until dessert," Delilah chuckled, blushing cutely.
"Wooo! Go Delly!" Grace hooted, ruining the intimate moment with her catcall. Delilah rolled her eyes at her antics, before giving me a nod.
"Take me away," she requested, and we left her apartment together.
Then, after checking to make sure nobody was around, I brought out a handkerchief that had been turned into a Port Key. She held onto one corner, and with a simple utterance of "Dining Hall, Pretty Please" from myself, we vanished with a muffled pop, reappearing in the place I'd set up for tonight's date.
"Oh, wow," she breathed out, staring at the area. I grinned at her reaction, feeling a flicker of pride. It had taken a bit of work, but I'd turned one of the greenhouses I'd set up for growing potion ingredients into a picnic spot.
Snow fell onto the glass, which had been enchanted to be completely transparent. Whenever a snowflake hit the glass, a glowing illusion of the snow flake would appear in the same spot and fall down onto the plants, which would shine a little when the mote landed.
The whole thing left the place nice and warm and cozy, and I brought Delilah over to a blanket that had been laid out in between rows of Singing Roses and Golden Dragon Orchids. On it, a basket full of delicious food courtesy of Sam sat, along with a bottle of wine.
"How did you set this up?" Delilah wondered as she sat down.
"Runes, and help from Sirius and Remus," I admitted. "It wasn't easy… but it was worth it to see that look of awe on your face."
"Magic is truly amazing," she murmured, before giving me a fond smile. "And you're just as incredible, making this all just for me."
"Naturally," I said in a faux-snobbish voice. "Now, what do you want to start with? Soup or salad?"
Our dinner was a proper five course meal, and Sam had outdone herself. She'd also taken advantage of the magical cookbook she'd picked up in France. Now that she had actual magic she could make use of the recipes, and created a bunch of truly magical dishes.
The wine was a bottle I'd taken out of the cellar from the Flamel's summer home, and had a nice note of strawberry that complimented the dishes.
"This has been wonderful," Delilah sighed happily as a Singing Rose hummed Mozart after dessert. "Thank you, Ed."
"The night's not over yet," I told her.
"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"It's almost midnight," I announced, pulling out a pocket watch and glancing up at the moon. "You're going to want to see this."
She looked in the direction I was staring, and as she did, I began to count down. "3… 2… 1~!"
The moment the hands of the pocket watch all pointed to 12, the greenhouse lit up as the plants started to glow. The light they radiated beamed upwards, mixing with the moonlight and creating a kaleidoscope effect that turned the world around the two of them into an endless rainbow.
"Whoa!" Delilah breathed out. She then smacked her lips, eyes widening. "Wait… I can taste blue! And red! Ed, I can taste colors!"
"This was a fun little spell I've been working on in my spare time," I told her with a grin. "It's a Synesthesia charm, that lets people discover what colors taste like. I also have a sound-based variant. Translating color into taste was a fun challenge. You like it?"
"Moonlight… it tastes… why does the moon taste like gouda cheese?" Delilah couldn't help but wonder as she stared at the moon. I shrugged.
"I have no idea. I think it's weird that the color salmon tastes like salmon the fish, and gold tastes like venison steak. Fun, though."
"It is!" Delilah giggled, "It's amazing!"
For a few minutes we just sat there, watching the light as it danced and tickled our tastebuds.
"I have so many ideas," I said softly, breaking the silence. "So many plans… the world will never be the same if we succeed."
"I know," she said, leaning against my shoulder. "I'll admit, some of it scares me. If magic returns to the world, so many things we've considered to be 'normal' will be upended. Businesses will rise and fall as fortunes are won and lost. The average person's life will change drastically, and the very political landscape will shift…"
"Do you think it's worth it?" I asked her. "Do you think we're doing the right thing?"
"I do," Delilah confirmed. "There's going to be… a learning curve. People will get hurt. But in the end, there's really no other choice, is there?"
"Yeah… if we do nothing, then magic will continue to fade. It will be a quiet extinction. Assuming mundane technology doesn't find a way to discover the magical world early," I muttered.
"Who knew saving the world was so much work?" I joked after a moment of silence, and Delilah smiled, snuggling into my side.
"You know, Ed… I didn't wear anything under my dress," she whispered into my ear, and I blinked.
"Oh… oh!"
"Happy New Year," she said as she reached for my shirt.
Happy New Year indeed!
111 &&& 111
? POV
"How foolish you were. What were you thinking, Nicholas? Giving such power… such responsibility to a child who knows nothing."
A figure moved through a darkened atelier. Artwork in various states of completion littered the area. Some were broken, others had simply never been finished.
"Why could you not leave well-enough alone? Now… now I am forced to act."
A hammer was picked up from a workbench, and the figure approached a sculpture depicting a pair of lovers. With vicious blows it was destroyed, the hammer shattering stone with contemptuous ease, leaving naught but rubble behind after a few minutes.
"Damn you, Nicholas. Why won't you let me die?!"
Chapter 76: Chapter 76: I have the Power!
Chapter Text
Chapter 76: I have the Power!
"I DID IT!"
"GAH!" I exclaimed, jerking in shock as Delilah screamed at me.
She had just barged into my apartment out of the blue ten days after our date on New Years Eve, causing me to throw the sandwich I'd been eating at her in reflex. She dodged, the meat and cheese sandwich nearly smacking her in the face.
"Whoa, watch where you're throwing things! That spicy mustard could put a person's eye out!"
"Sorry! Also! Volume!" I complained.
"Sorry, sorry!" Delilah apologized. "It's just… I did it! I finally did it!"
"What did you do, exactly?" I asked. "You had a couple projects going on."
I motioned for her to sit down at the table with me, and she did, smiling widely. "Project Tethys! I finally made a working prototype!"
At that, I sat up straighter. "You did?" I asked her intently. When she nodded, I grinned widely as well, matching her own expression.
Project Tethys was something Delilah had taken up herself to familiarize herself with magic, and experiment with how it could work. She had several projects, but this one, named after the Greek Titaness who'd been the mother of the river gods and the Oceanids, was one of the big ones.
Simply put, it was an attempt to create a form of hydro-electric energy generation using the Aquamenti spell.
The water created by the Aquamenti was not suitable for drinking and evaporated faster than non-conjured water, but it was useful for cleaning or putting out fires.
"I made a generator using water-creating runes and an electric motor, sorta like the kind used in dams," Delilah said excitedly. "It took ages to figure out the right combination of runes and the proper materials to set it up with, but I made a prototype, and it worked! I was able to power my TV a few other appliances with the electricity it was creating!"
"Does it scale up?" I wondered. "How much magic does it require to produce a megawatt of electricity?"
"I have notes you can read," she replied. "But for the first question: yes. It's why it took so long. Making water spray out to move a turbine isn't that hard, but the tricky part was figuring out the proper runic sequence for varying sizes and outputs."
Delilah tapped her chin. "As for magic-to-watts… not sure. We need a way to accurately calculate how much magical energy is produced by a spell – or is required to cast one – before I have accurate numbers. But based on current observations… the generator I finagled together was able to produce one hundred watts a day. Give me time and materials, and I can make one that generates a megawatt's worth of power over the course of a year right now."
"Interesting," I mused.
One hundred watts a day wasn't bad for a prototype. That was more than enough for a TV, microwave, or a fridge. Maybe even a combination of two. And a single megawatt could power approximately five hundred houses – give or take a hundred – for around a year.
"We need to test this," I declared.
"Obviously. That's why I came to you," Delilah said. "Not just to brag… but I need money and supplies to make anything more."
I nodded. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Make a new company to make the generators and then build them into the different buildings we own?" Delilah guessed.
"You know me so well," I grinned.
"Of course I do," she smirked back. "I already have a name: Camelot Energy. Like it?"
"It fits the naming scheme I like to use, so, yes," I chuckled. "You'll obviously be the lady running the company."
"A CEO before I've even graduated… never thought I'd see the day," Delilah sighed happily. "So. What else?"
"Paperwork," I told her, and she groaned.
"Joy," she grumbled.
"Don't worry, I'll arrange everything so you just have to go over it with a lawyer and sign on the dotted line. Your parents could probably help speed things along, too," I said.
"If I ask for help, they'll want to know how I plan to do this," she pointed out. "And how I made it in the first place."
"You think it's time to tell them about magic?" I asked, and Delilah nodded.
"Yes. I'm worried about how they might react… but I also know father is greedy enough he'll keep it a secret since it will give him a leg up on the competition," she scoffed. I said nothing against her.
Mr. Hunt was an unpleasant man, but he was predictable, and Delilah was likely correct in that his greed would, for once, be an asset.
"When do you want to do this? Next month?" I suggested.
"Yeah, some time in February would work best," Delilah agreed.
I nodded, and then leaned over and gave her a peck on the check. She blushed and I smirked.
"You're incorrigible," she grumbled, but she didn't look like she minded.
"I think this calls for a celebration," I declared. "What do you want to eat? I'm buying."
She leaned over and whispered into my ear, and I blushed.
"Oh. I see… well, who am I to deny my lady?" I replied. She just took her shirt off and threw it onto the couch.
We didn't leave the apartment at all that day.
111 &&& 111
"I have to admit, it's very shiny," I commented.
"That's the gold talking," Delilah replied.
"Right… I'll admit, I didn't think the Tethys Hydro-electric generator would use so much gold."
"It doesn't. Comparatively speaking, at least," Delilah stated. "The runes need to be etched into or made of gold. That's non-negotiable. They just won't channel mana at the proper level otherwise. But the rest of the machine can be built using mundane materials."
I nodded slowly, looking at the miniature proof-of-concept version my lovely lady had made. "Okay… but why did you make this one out of gold?"
Seriously, the whole thing would make a rapper drool with envy! Golden frame, mostly golden turbine, and gold plating and gilding to decorate the rest of it. The fact that it was the size of a desk chair meant that even though it wasn't solid gold it was still worth more than an entire house!
'If it wasn't sitting on the concrete floor of a warehouse I'd be worried about the weight of the thing breaking the ground it's lying on!' I thought to myself. Gold was pretty… and pretty heavy.
"Because I wanted to," Delilah replied, before nudging me. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to make something out of a bunch of gold!"
"Fair enough," I shrugged. "And I did give you access to the recycling center's supply depot without telling you what you couldn't use, so that's on me."
I folded my arms as I watched the Tethys conjure a jet of water to spin the turbines, generating a few dozen watts worth of power. The liquid itself rapidly evaporated, leaving the floor nice and dry. The runes themselves functioned by constantly drawing in magic from the surroundings.
It'd work better near a Ley line or some other locale with plenty of ambient mana, like my potion workshop or apartment complex due to all the wards. But like she'd promised, the Tethys could be scaled up to produce megawatts worth of power.
'Assuming it's built somewhere that it can syphon enough magical energy, of course,' I mused silently.
Yet it worked. And that was what mattered. This relatively small version could power a house, and I already had plans to have the dwarves install larger versions in the buildings I owned. I would never have to pay a cent for electricity again!
"I know that look," Delilah commented with a smirk. "You're thinking about money again."
"I am," I confirmed. I then shot her a sultry look. "I'm also thinking about how sexy I find the fact you were able to build this."
"Seems like you find saving money sexy," she drawled. I laughed, and she giggled. "But no hanky-panky right now! We have things to do today and we can't exactly do it if we get busy."
"A shame, but you're right," I told her, tearing my eyes away from her to look back at the Tethys generator.
"It's beautiful. Now let's make more!"
"I have a list of materials we'll need to do just that, as well as the permits we'll need to fill out if we want to get these suckers installed," Delilah informed me. I couldn't help but grimace at the idea of more paperwork.
"Right," I sighed. "Okay, let's go and deal with this first."
She nodded, and we departed the warehouse via Portkey back to my office.
I'd begun using Portkeys a lot more often these days. They were mostly safe, more so than Apparition, at least, and could be reused repeatedly. They also cut down on the chances of being trapped, tracked, or otherwise kidnapped.
And boy howdy did I need something like that. So far, nobody had tried to capture me since the start of the year, but it'd only been two weeks since the start of January, and it didn't mean Sir Briar and others weren't watching. Two break-in attempts at the recycling plant had been thwarted by the night guard, and some mad lad had tried breaking into a warehouse in the middle of the day. The wards had knocked him out, and he didn't know who'd hired him, but it was worrying all the same.
'Not to mention the wiretaps,' I thought with a flicker of annoyance.
Someone had managed to bug my phone's landlines. I hadn't even noticed! Only thanks to my secretary complaining about the recent phone bill did I notice that somebody was using more than their fair share and trying to sneakily steal information using the phones.
Clever. And not something I could easily deal with since I had no idea how wiretaps worked at all, or how to go about undoing them. For now, I'd left it alone, since it let me control the intel I let my eavesdroppers know. As long as they didn't know that I knew, I was able to infiltrate and trick them.
But that was an issue for another day. Right now, Delilah and I had paperwork to go over and sign. We spent several hours cooped up with a stack of documents and files, hands cramping from signing and rubber stamping everything we had to in order to begin the process of setting up Camelot Energy.
Even with the bureaucracy sated, we weren't going to be done for a while. And even when we did submit everything it would be months before anybody got around to us. Trying to set up an energy corporation, even one that would only be providing electricity for a select few businesses, was not simple.
"…and that's it for now," Delilah declared, nearly putting her pen down.
"For now," I echoed with much less enthusiasm.
"Once I tell my parents about… everything… there will be more," she agreed.
"Do you want me to be with you when you spill the beans?" I wondered.
"That's sweet of you, but I think it's best that this is a family thing," Delilah replied softly. "I will bring a few magical items to help make them believe, but for now…"
"Right, I understand," I said, feeling a little disappointed I couldn't spend more time with her.
"There, there. Don't be sad. I'll see you soon, Ed," Delilah promised, kissing me on the cheek.
"I'm looking forward to it," I declared with what I hoped was a confident smirk, and she giggled before leaving the office.
Once I was alone, I felt tiredness sink down onto me, my shoulders slumping a bit. Paperwork was hard. It was boring. And while it had to be done, I really, really needed more time in my day.
'Considering the way things with the Dementors went down, things might not go the same way the Time Turner as in canon,' I thought, mind drifting to Hermione's little trick for attending more classes than physically possible.
But there was no way for me to get my hands on Hermione's Time Turner anyways,
'I either need a time machine the Ministry doesn't control… or I need more help,' I thought. The former was unlikely. The latter would need a lot more than just one or two people to pick up the slack.
Knowing I wouldn't get anything done by moping, I sighed before busying myself with my job, some more documents needing my signature. When that was done a couple hours later, I stretched, feeling like I'd earned a break.
"Inky? Can I get a snack?" I asked aloud.
"No, Master Eddy. You will spoil your appetite," my House Elf scolded me as he popped into existence in front of my desk.
"Ah, come on, it's… oh, wow, it's already five twenty? Where did the time go?" I wondered in disbelief. "I thought time was supposed to fly when I was having fun, not doing drudge-work!"
Inky chuckled softly at my reaction, before tilting his head to the side. "Perhaps Inky can make Master Eddy's frown turn upside with something else."
I blinked at that, a bit bemused by hearing Inky use that phrase, but also curious about what he had in mind.
"Sure, go ahead, Inky," I said, urging him to explain.
"Master Eddy, Inky cannot do everything," the House Elf began. "And even with Dobby, it isn't easy. Furthermore… Inky will not be around forever."
I frowned at the reminder of my loyal friend's age, yet he simply smiled back at me, albeit sadly.
"That is why Inky has prepared… alternatives," the House Elf continued.
He then snapped his fingers and four loud pops announced the arrival of four new House Elves. All of them were younger than Inky – although considering he had to be over a hundred years old at this point, that wasn't saying much.
Even so, the oldest of the quartet was only half Inky's age, at best. Though trying to tell a House Elf's age – and gender, come to think of it – was tricky.
The other thing that caught my eye was that two were wearing pillow cases with Hogwarts' livery, while the other two had black pillow cases as toga-like shirts. The eldest member was wearing one on the latter, and he bowed politely to me.
"Greetings, Master Eddy. I be Rainy, Inky's fourth son," the elf introduced. "I be here to take over Inky's place when it is time."
"What?" I uttered, shooting a confused look at Inky.
"When I die, my son will replace me," Inky confirmed with a soft bob of his head.
"I… I see," I muttered. "And the others?"
"I be Salty! Inky's granddaughter!" one of the Hogwarts Elves said cheerfully, her voice higher pitched than the others.
"I be Windy," her fellow Hogwarts elf introduced, bowing low.
"And I be Shoe," the other black-clad House Elf said in greeting. "We alls being Inky's grandchildren."
I blinked at the odd name before nodding slowly as a realization hit me. "Inky… are all four of them here to work for me?"
"Yes," Inky said. "They be good elveses."
"Alright… I suppose my next question is 'how?'" I inquired. At that, Inky gained a mischievous smirk.
"Inky knows the rules. Unattached elveses can choose their own family," Inky told me. I knew that, though, and was still confused.
"Okay, but doesn't the Ministry regulate who owns which House Elves?" I asked.
"Ministry can regulate… but the old laws still apply," Inky said, snapping his fingers and causing a book to fall into my lap.
"I haven't seen this book before," I mused, running a finger over the golden filigree of the cover.
"Only the Head of House Hunch - or House Elf bonded to him - can summon the book," Inky informed me, before snapping his fingers again and causing the book to open to a specific page.
"On the Rites and Honors of the Ownership of the Brownie Fair Folk?" I muttered, reading aloud the chapter title. My eyes widened as I realized what I was holding. "This… is this a copy of the Laws Immutable?"
When Inky nodded, I felt my grin stretch across my face and gain a feral quality. The Laws Immutable was the name of the book in which every single law, rule, and regulation within the Wizengamot was recorded! It was even enchanted to automatically update with every new addition or amendment!
This was something only the Ministry and the Noble Houses had access to. Copies owned by the former were kept under strict lock and key, rarely allowed to be looked at outside of for legal cases. The ones owned by nobles… well, they were also heavily guarded by the Purebloods.
These restrictions were another measure through which the bigots controlled the Wizengamot and magical society as a whole. Without knowledge of what your rights or the laws were, it was hard for the average citizen to fight back or demand justice.
Oh, the lawyers had some access, but since the firms tended to be run by Purebloods, who only allowed the minimum amount of information to trickle down to the lawyers. Lawyers who could pick and choose what cases they deemed 'worthy of their time.' Which meant Muggleborn had no chance of even getting their day in court if a Pureblood said so.
The inherent biases and faults in the system could be addressed later, though. For now, it was time to figure out what Inky wanted me to know.
Fully invested, I started to read the chapter. It took some time to parse the dense, old English legal jargon, but after half an hour I had enough information on what I needed to know.
Simply put, neither the Ministry nor Hogwarts legally owned the House Elves who lived and worked there. Instead, they were simply 'held in trust,' for a proper legal master to claim them. These unattached House Elves sustained themselves on the spare magic of the Ley Lines built near the two sites, and could choose their own masters whenever they wished. Additionally, if the elves were related to an elf already serving a master, then they didn't even need to inform anybody!
While this sounded archaic and was worded in a way that made the House Elves – or Brownies as they were originally known – sound less like slaves and more like tools, it was clear to me that because the four House Elves were related to Inky, the Head House Elf of House Hunch, they could choose to work for me whenever they wanted and nobody had to sign any paperwork or tell the Ministry. Of course, once the contract was sealed such a bond could not be broken without the traditional gift of clothing, but that was covered in a different section of the book.
"How many other House Elves could I legally have?" I wondered aloud, mostly as an idle thought.
"There be no laws on numbers of House Elves a single family can have a bond with," Inky said.
"Okay, that's interesting," I muttered, glancing down at the book in my lap, before dismissing the idea to look through it. There was no reason to do so right now. I trusted Inky. And if he said there were no hard limits, then I believed him.
"If I can have as many House Elves as I want… how many could I realistically hire? Like, right now?" I asked them. "I understand that House Elves tend to follow familial lines, so how many House Elves are related to Inky that I could potentially recruit?"
"Aside from us? Grandfather Inky has two sons, three daughters, eleven grandsons, seventeen granddaughters, twenty-nine great-grandsons, and forty-two great-granddaughters that are currently without masters and could join you right now," Rainy helpfully informed me. I stared at him, before glancing over at Inky, who shuffled his feet, embarrassed.
"…Inky was very popular in his youth," he murmured.
"Grandpa was a 'player,' in the modern parlance," Shoe said, the other grandchildren grinning cheekily.
"Damn… and those are just the elves who don't have a family to serve?" I inquired. When I received a round of nods, I chuckled. "Good job, Inky."
Flushing with embarrassment, he mumbled "Yes, master," under his breath. I snorted, before turning back to the others.
"I think, for now, it would be best to only have you four join me. Even if it's legal, someone at the Ministry might notice two dozen elves suddenly leaving," I commented.
"Yes, Rainy agrees," the House Elf said.
"Of course, I plan on getting the rest," I informed them. "I won't leave you in the incompetent hands of the Ministry forever."
That caused the black-clad House Elves to perk up. Apparently, working for the government was unappealing. How unsurprising.
"Now, has Inky told you about the… other stipulations for working with me?" I inquired.
At this, they nodded, but with noticeable hesitance.
"It not be right," Salty mumbled.
"Paying people who work for me – as well as ensuring they wear something decent – is very much the right thing to do," I sternly told them. "Even in backwards Magical Britain you can't not pay your employees. Just because I provide you with magic to keep you alive does not mean I don't have other obligations to you. If anything, I have even more! So that means you'll earn a paycheck and like it!"
Again, they nodded, still hesitant, but with a glint of interest and hopefulness within their large, wide eyes.
"Ah, I almost forgot… what about Hogwarts?" I inquired. "Do I have to worry about Dumbledore wondering why I have two of the castle's Elves with me?"
"No," Salty assured me. "Hogwarts elveses are free to leave if they have a family. Some elveses even use Hogwarts as a place to find young masters or mistresses to serve!"
"I see," I mused. "Okay, good to know, thank you."
The House Elf blushed and wiggly happily at the praise.
My questions answered, I stood up, before pausing. "Inky… can I support more bonds?"
"Yes, Master Eddy," Inky assured me. "Youses not be using magic with wand, so you have more to spare. Inky thinks you could support ten elveses all by yourself!"
'Odd. Does that mean a bond with a wand is sort of like a House Elf bond? A limitation of some sort? Wonder how that works,' I mused.
I didn't know, but decided that such things could come later. Still, ten was a bit… let's see what happened with five.
Without hesitation, I stuck my hand out, offering it to Rainy in order to seal the deal, so to speak. Inky's son nodded, and took my hand. There was a buzz, and the air filled with magic for a moment as the House Elf's soul became intwined with my own.
"It is done, Master Eddy," my new companion announced with a bow. I nodded and repeated the process with the other elves, offering them my hand and shaking the other three elves' outstretched limbs.
Gold sparks burned in our palms, and I felt a tingle as all of them bound themselves to me, but that wasn't anything else that happened. No tiredness, at least, so there was no obvious sign of me being weaker due to multiple bonds.
"Well, that's that, then, welcome to the family," I said, giving the four new members of the team a winning smile I hoped would reassure them. Then, I looked over towards the oldest member of the group.
"Inky, show them what their uniforms will look like and provide the materials so they can sew them," I instructed. "And afterwards, introduce them to Dobby and the different locations I own, then fill them in on what their duties will be."
"Yes, Master Eddy," Inky said with a bow before vanishing with the pop, the other four following him a second later.
"That was a surprise," I muttered. "Heh, seems like Fate took heed of my pleas and now I have more help."
There was a faint worry in the back of my brain that this was just the prelude to something else. Something bad. But that couldn't be the case, could it? Life wasn't a story, defined by the whims of a higher power… right?
111 &&& 111
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Also, I have a new story! "Smoothing Sailing," a One Piece adventure where the main character ends up in Iron Mace Alvida's body post-Devil Fruit!
Chapter 77: Chapter 77: Break-ins and Mishaps
Chapter Text
Chapter 77: Break-ins and Mishaps
A week later, and things were going well. Fine, even! The dwarves had informed me that the apartment complex – now renamed to Pendragon Heights – would be fully warded by August, possibly even sooner depending on some factors, and the money they were making working for me had tempted a few other dwarven Thanedoms (they called them 'Seters') had approached me with offers.
I was working on a couple of ideas to incorporate them into my grow magical business empire. Construction was obvious, and could be moved to the mundane side of things easily enough. Letting them sell their runes and enchanted items through me as an intermediary was another way to get the dwarves on my side. That option would be tricky, as the Ministry of Magic would definitely take note. Dwarves were still 'sub-humans' and 'Dark Creatures,' little better than bearded goblins, and the Ministry loved to ruin and meddle with any businesses that tried to make fair contracts with them.
'I may have to move any hypothetical businesses with them overseas,' I mused. I was already working with Cyrus Greengrass to expand into the Americas, and I had a feeling he would leap at the chance to get genuine dwarven-quality on his side.
It'd be worth it, though. My hiring practices had made me more renowned in the non-human community as well. A dozen more hags and vampires had approached me, and I'd hired them all. I always needed more people with some understanding of magic and the ability to use it.
There were a few issues with non-human workers, though. Hags liked to eat human flesh. Obviously, I told them they'd have to give that up. They didn't need to consume people in order to survive. Any raw meat was fine with them.
At least the vampire's dietary issues could be solved with trips to the blood banks and 'donations' from the other workers who knew and weren't worried. I did have to remind the blood-suckers that they couldn't turn people in new vampires, though. Vampirism was basically just a blood-based lycanthropy curse. So no drinking from the tap, so to speak.
My rules were accepted and had been obeyed so far. I had no doubt somebody was going to screw up at some point, either by accident or maliciously, but until that happened all I could do was wait and watch.
That made me happy, and I had a few ideas to recruit new people if I ended up expanding into North America. There were a lot of near-humans who'd migrated there over the centuries, turning it into a melting pot as diverse as the mundane side, to say nothing of the native magical species.
'I should ask my maids about that… and isn't it weird I actually have those,' I thought, amused.
"Mr. Rose? You have a call on Line 3," my secretary informed me, taking me out of my daydreams, and I gave her a nod.
"Of course, thank you, Gladys," I said as I returned to my office. 'Let me think… Line 3… that's the connection Mark Fetters has to my office.'
Sitting down at my desk, I grabbed the phone's receiver and pressed the button next to the flashing light.
"Mark? What's up?" I asked. "Something up with the recycling plant? Or the club?"
"The latter," Marky replied with a grim tone.
I nodded slowly at that. So, it was something to do with the information network he ran using his night club's connections, then. And if he was calling me about it, then it was big.
"Go on."
"I've had some people asking around about you, and I think something big is being planned."
"Ugh, why can't they just leave me alone?" I wondered.
"That's the thing, boss. They aren't going after you directly," Mark informed me, and I froze.
"What?" I hissed.
"Word on the street is some inquiries have been made. Not about Miss Hunt, your girlfriend is still off-limits after what happened to the last bunch who tried to make off with her. But anyone else related to you. There's nothing about your own family since they don't live nearby… but they've been looking and snooping all the same."
I clenched the receiver tighter at that as I realized what Mark had left unsaid. Somebody was snooping around my connections, and they might be trying to go after
Could Sam and her family be in danger? What about the Dursleys? As much as I hated them, I didn't want them dead, which is exactly what would happen to the Dursleys if they got caught by criminals.
'They'd off Vernon and Petunia the moment either of them started to mouth off,' I thought grimly.
"Mark, send me the information you have about this the usual way," I instructed him, not trusting anything else to be mentioned over the phone.
"Already on its way," he assured me.
"Keep this on the downlow," I ordered before hanging up. He hadn't spilled too much information over the phone, and he knew enough not to say anything incriminating while we were still dealing with a way to track the wiretaps.
'Still, he may have tipped off somebody. Though even that will be useful, as we can find out who is responsible for the wiretap based on who makes use of the information Mark let slip.
If I wasn't so busy I'd definitely find a way to use it… but there's nothing else I can do. Someday, though. Someday.
'For now, I have see what exactly Marky had learned about,' I thought to myself before standing up from my desk.
Then, I approached the bookshelf and removed a single tome from one of my bookshelves. The title on its spine, "Advanced Economic Theorems," gave a hint to the dry and bland contents within. But it also served as a distraction.
Opening it to the last page, it was blank, but not for long. After folding the corners of the empty page inwards, words began to spill across the surface and the information Mark had gotten for me was soon revealed, replacing the contents of the economics textbook.
The intel my unofficial spymaster had uncovered was worrying. People had been spotted in Sam's neighborhood. People who had no business being there. Petty criminals whose sole purpose was to case joints, acquiring info on security. These bastards would sell the information to other people instead of robbing the place themselves. Safer that way.
Of course, it wasn't just thieves who bought this knowledge. Information brokers like Marky Fetters would do so as well, obtaining valuable data on the habits and lives of people that they could use later for one thing or another.
'And according to some of Mark's contacts, these scumbags have been very active where Sam and the Dursleys live,' I thought as I continued to read.
That wasn't all that Mark had managed to scrounge up. There were also details on something I'd asked for him to investigate months ago and had only recently found more about. And they did not make me happy.
"Son of a bitch!" I hissed angrily as I read everything. Sir Briar was behind the hostile takeover of Mrs. Parson's old workplace? But why?
I ran a hand over my face. 'No. I already know 'why.' Mrs. Parson was just a convenient target so he could go after me.'
Had he planned to manipulate things so he could hold this over my head? Use my friendship with Sam and her family to force me to do things in exchange for making sure Mrs. Parson would keep her job?
'Well, jokes on him! I offered her a new job as manager of my PR team, and she leapt at the chance! He never had a chance to use this disgusting bit of extortion!' I thought with a hint of vindictive glee.
And that, I realized after a moment to think it over, was the problem. I'd ruined Sir Briar's scheme, and now he was no longer content to play around and do things sneaky-like. Instead, he was going to be a lot more direct going forward.
'I need more information on this old bastard,' I thought with a grimace.
Sir Briar was too dangerous to confront without a lot of intel and a surefire plan to take him down… or make him agree to stop going after me and my own.
Drumming my fingers against the spine of the enchanted book, I eventually closed it after I'd committed everything Mark had reported to memory. Occlumency was truly the gift that kept giving… so long as I didn't go overboard with it again.
This was not good, and I headed back to my desk, pressing a button on the phone.
"Gladys? Do I have any other appointments for the day?" I asked, speaking to my secretary.
"No, Mr. Rose. You have nothing else scheduled," Mrs. Calloburgh assured me, and I thanked her before hanging up and grabbing a Portkey in the form of a pen from my desk.
"Time to make sure Sam is okay and warn her," I muttered. "Pop-pop, gotta go."
The passphrase uttered, I vanished from my office, appearing in the hallway near Sam's apartment. I hurried over to his door and knocked, hoping she was in. She should have been, her classes were over for the day.
Thankfully, my guess was right, as a voice called out, "It's open!"
I went inside, the door unlocked, and I found her working on something in the kitchen, batter all over her apron.
"Sam, we need to talk," I told her seriously, and she frowned before nodding.
"Alright, lemme just turn on the oven," she requested, turning a switch before glancing back to me. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, actually. Some problems have arisen I need to talk to you about," I said.
"It's like the only thing you wanna talk about is bad news," Sam grumbled, and I winced. It wasn't entirely true… but not by enough.
"Some bad people have been observing your parent's house," I informed her, and Sam scowled.
"Who?"
"Sir Briar," I replied. "He's also the one responsible for getting your mother fired from her job."
"He did what?" Sam hissed angrily. "Why?"
"I'm sorry," I said, bowing my head apologetically. "It's my fault. He's going after you because you're friends with me."
"He's trying pressure you into something by holding my family hostage over you?" she demanded, and I nodded.
"By doing this, Sir Briar hopes to force me to sell him everything. To steal majority control of my products and companies for himself," I explained. I was simplifying it, but that was the gist of the old man's thinking.
His motives were based on greed, pure and simple. There really was nothing else. At least, none that I could find, although I had my suspicions about how he had access to magic. He wasn't a Squib, I was pretty certain of that. But perhaps he had married or known one.
"Are you going to protect us?" Sam asked, and I nodded.
"Of course! I'll have a House Elf keep an eye on you, and I won't let anything happen!" I promised whole-heartedly.
"Good," Sam said. I winced a little at the tone of voice she was using.
"You're mad at me, aren't you?" I said hesitantly, and Sam snorted.
"A little bit, yeah. But really, I'm mostly pissed off at Sir Briar," she huffed. "I know you'll keep Kate and my parents safe. I trust you. But I really, really don't like all of this cloak and daggers stuff."
"I don't either," I agreed, but Sam shook her head.
"It's not that I dislike it when others do… Ed, how long will it be before you start doing the same? Hell, you're already doing it in some ways with the magical side!" Sam said, annoyance tinging her words.
I grimaced, wanting to deny her… but found I couldn't. She wasn't entirely wrong. My work was important. I knew it was, because if I didn't do something, the magical world would die, and possibly drag the mundane world down with it. Yet I was conducting business moves that were ruthless, and making decisions that would influence the entire world without really know what would happen.
I knew that this was the right thing to do. That this was the right path… but sometimes I felt like I was becoming more and more like the monsters I'd once claimed to never be anything like.
'Was this how it started for people like Dumbledore? The 'Greater Good…' it's too tempting. too slippery a slope, to just say I know best when others don't,' I thought to myself.
I had the unique perspective of seeing the future of two worlds, but I couldn't be certain that the ripples I'd made wouldn't become tidal waves that'd destroy everything in their path.
"Am I heading down that road already?" I asked Sam, looking at my oldest friend with a hint of worry in my heart.
Thankfully, she shook her head. "Power doesn't just corrupt, it reveals what is already there," she replied, causing me to snort.
"Didn't I use that line in one of our D games?" I asked.
"You sure did. But it's true, for all that it was said in a campaign about slaying an evil dragon," she stated, before patting my shoulder. "Ed, you've been a good friend. And you want to be a good man. Just don't loose sight of the fact that your goal is going to affect more than just yourself and I believe you will avoid losing your way."
She then smirked. "Besides, if you ever do start to go crazy, we'll be there to drag you back to the right path."
"Well, maybe not Sirius. He'd probably help cause the chaos," I mused, causing Sam to snort.
"Yeah, he's a wild animal. He needs to get laid. Bang the goofy out of him."
"I don't think that's how it works," I said, even though I was smiling a little in amusement.
Sirius had had a few one-night stands so far, but I couldn't see him settling down anytime soon. Though in his defense, a decade in Azkaban would make anyone want to party like a rockstar for a while, just to revel in life.
"Let's talk about something else," I said, and Sam looked surprised. Seeing that, I raised an eyebrow. "What? You're the one who complained about us not hanging out except for emergencies anymore."
"Alright. What do you wanna talk about?"
"Sooo… how did your family take the, uh, belt thing?" I asked, trying to find a topic and discuss something else not related to business and the fate of the world. It'd been a while since Christmas but I hadn't had a lot of time to spend with her recently so I was curious to know what exactly had been going on in that instance.
"Kate liked it," Sam said with a shrug. I nodded, having expected that. She'd been fine with Sam being trans, after all. Having a 'big sister' had been a lot of fun for her.
"And your parents?"
"Well, at first they thought I'd been 'cursed,' which, yes, technically, but they finally understood after a bit that I wanted to be this way," Sam replied. "I suppose it helps that, thanks to the curse, none of our neighbors or family members remember me being a guy. My parents only remember because they are now magical."
"As expected," I said. "So, what are you baking today?"
"I'm preparing for the cooking show," she replied, her tone switching over to one of excitement. "I've a great idea for a souffle using a few magical tricks in my cook book that, on the surface, seem mundane and can pass as such."
"Well, be careful with that," I warned, before grinning. "But remember, Delilah and I expect to be your taste testers leading up to it."
"I'll make sure there's plenty of food for you to enjoy," Sam promised. "You'll be sick of pastries by the time I'm done."
"I doubt that," I scoffed. She narrowed her eyes, taking that declaration as a challenge. I just grinned back.
"I know you're playing me," she admitted after a moment. "But damn it, I wanna wipe that smirk off your face!"
"I can't smirk if my mouth is full of cake," I replied. At that, Sam rolled her eyes at me.
This was nice. Just two friends hanging out after way too long. I hadn't realized how much I'd needed this.
111 &&& 111
With Sam and her family now being watched over by a rotation of House Elves – and occasionally having some tidying up and chores secretly done – I turned my attention to the Dursleys. They were still unpleasant people living in their cookie-cutter house that reminded me of a surreal horror movie setting with how identical everything on Privet Drive was.
There was some good news about this set-up. Anybody who wasn't part of the 'in' crowd would immediately get spotted, so there were rarely watchers and informants. Break-ins did happen, but rarely, and they were spontaneous matters.
'Plus, with the Stepford wives all snooping on each other all day it makes it very hard for anybody to do anything suspicious without being spotted right away and then gossiped about,' I thought with a snort.
But yes, the Dursleys. Vernon was still a manager at Grunnings. Petunia was still a housewife, though her beloved rose bushes had fared poorly since Harry had stopped living with them. And Dudley was still a brat, though without Harry to bully his antics were significantly less tolerated by the rest of the people around him. I didn't know a lot, but 'Dudders' had gotten his ass handed to him at Smeltings Academy and learned that he was not top dog anymore.
'Hopefully it humbles the kid and he ends up a better person than his parents,' I thought to myself as I went over the information I had on the Dursleys. Keeping them safe was secondary to the Parsons, so I wasn't going to have a House Elf watch over them, but some protective and monitoring charms were slapped onto them that'd alert us if they were in trouble.
And, there was another person in Privet Drive I was interested in. A part of me wanted to approach Arabella Figg. She was a fellow Squib, after all and she deserved better than a moth-eaten house full of ugly cats. But I dismissed the idea as she was too firmly in Dumbledore's pocket.
I had reasons to believe that her home had been purchased for her by the old wizard, as she hadn't lived in Privet Drive until Harry had shown up, at least based on records. And I knew that being given a house for free would make anybody loyal, especially if they were a Squib, who would likely struggle to make ends meet.
So, no, I couldn't approach her. It was best to let her live her own life. That was the only kindness I could offer at the moment. And who knows? Maybe she'd still be around when the global ritual would be enacted and everyone would gain magic. Then I might catch up with her again.
I held back a sigh as I leaned back in my car. I was parked near Privet Drive, waiting for Shoe to finish putting the charms on the Dursleys. A second after I thought that, a pop in the back seat alerted me to the appearance of the floppy eared fellow I was bonded with.
"Is it done?" I inquired, turning around to face the House Elf. "Any troubles?"
"Yes, Mr. Rose," Shoe said, and I nodded, pleased.
"Good. You also remembered not to call me 'master,'" I said, a smirk on my face.
"You asked us not to," Shoe pointed out, and I chuckled.
"I sure did. Now if only Inky and Rainy would take the hint," I replied with a shake of my head.
"That might take a while, Mr. Rose," Shoe said with a wince. I agreed. They were very traditional. Not entirely a bad thing, but going around calling people 'master' didn't sit well with a lot of people nowadays. Me included.
"I'm confident they'll overcome these challenges," I replied, before starting the car.
Driving away from Harry's old home felt freeing, and I wondered if I should get somebody to TP the Dursley's house next Halloween. Such pettiness was supposed to be beneath me, according to Delilah, but honestly, rich people were just as petty at times. They just had more options for getting revenge.
Returning to my apartment, I felt a sense of unease creep over me, and I looked around cautiously. One of the House Elves would have warned me if something was wrong, but I couldn't shake the feeling.
I made some lunch and did a bit of paperwork, but my mind simply wouldn't settle down. Something was wrong, and I didn't know what, or why. Eventually, I could wait no more and slumped in my seat.
"Let's see what the future has in store," I muttered to myself, handing reaching for a small velvet drawstring bag I kept on my person at all times. More than any other piece of magical equipment I owned, this was one of the oldest and most important.
Getting out one of my Divination Dice from their velvet bag, I took a deep breath. "Will something bad happen to me within the next twenty-four hours?" I asked, and tossed the carved bone across the table. They came to a halt, the rune 'No' looking back at me.
"Will something bad happen to one of my friends or family members?" I inquired aloud, and tossed the die again. This time, the rune for 'Yes' glared back balefully, and I swallowed nervously.
What followed over the next few minutes was a barrage of questions and rolling dice as I desperately tried to narrow down the exact person something bad was about to happen to.
"Will something bad happen to Scarlett?" I asked, having run out of immediate friends and family. To my surprise, the die showed "Yes."
I frowned at that, confused. The red-headed werewolf was an employee, and I did think well of her, but was she really a friend? More of an acquaintance, really. And while Remus was at Hogwarts, she was in charge of security.
'According to the runes she's close enough to a friend for it to count, though, and I'm not going to argue with the magical fortune-telling artifact,' I thought to myself. 'Still, I have to find out what happens to her!'
Before I could roll the dice and find out, the phone rang, and for a moment I considered ignoring but, but when it rang a second time, I went to answer it.
"Edward here," I said as I picked up the phone. A frown crept onto my face and I grimaced. "What? A break in?! Scarlett is confronting them?! …I see. I will be there soon."
Hanging up, I summoned to Inky with a mental command, and he appeared next to me.
"Take me to Warehouse 3," I instruct tersely, and the House Elf bowed and complied, sensing my anger.
There was a pop and rushing of air, and I found myself outside of my apartment and near the warehouse that stored the experimental potions and products.
Several people were standing around nearby, but I recognized them as people who worked for me: a pair of security guards, a janitor, and Merula Snyde.
"What the hell is going on?!" I demanded, growling at my employees in a very good imitation of a werewolf.
"Ve have a problem," one of the vampires on my payroll said as he stepped forward, his eerie pale skin. He was one of the vamps who liked to play up the vampire stereotypes. Popped collars, capes, ridiculous accent… he knew it was stupid but it was his way of coping.
I was surprised to see him out during the day, though. He'd slathered himself in sunscreen, but Vampirism was a curse, like Lycanthropy, and even covered up the sunlight could harm him badly.
"Where's Scarlett?" I demanded, walking over to the group.
"Still inside," the vampire replied.
"Is she hurt?" I asked.
"No, but she's not alone," the janitor spoke up.
"Elaborate," I ordered tersely.
"Well, it's like we called you about. There was a break in, and Scarlett went in after them!" the other security guard, a werewolf, claimed. "There was a lot of banging and crunching, and I think a few potions got disturbed."
I grimaced at that. Warehouse 3 was where the experimental products were created, tested, and stored. There were some weird things in there, a few which could be volatile and potentially life threatening.
'We need to up the security and defenses around it when this is resolved,' I thought to myself.
"Do we know why Scarlett is taking so long?" I inquired, switching to another topic.
"Dunno. The warehouse isn't that big," Merula said. "She got me out and started chasing the guy who broke in. Even though I could have helped."
The young woman huffed, annoyed at being sent out of the building despite having a wand, and I shrugged.
"Probably didn't want spells going off around unstable potions," I pointed out, and Merula grimaced.
"Yeah, probably," she sighed. "So, how it happened is the wards got triggered, alerting me. I was working with a new recipe, and contacted security. Scarlett got the call, and wanted to use her nose to sniff out the culprit since the wards couldn't locate the guy, we just knew we had an intruder. She sent me out, called more guys to watch the exits, but it's been twenty-ish minutes and the place is not big enough for it to take that long!"
"How many exits does this place have?" I inquired.
"Only vone, aside from zhe entrance," the vampire explained. "Bobby is vatching it."
I didn't know who Bobby was, but I nodded all the same. "Okay, you two are coming with me. We're going in to find out what happened. Merula, come with us. We might need your expertise in case something got spilled."
"Gotcha, boss," Merula nodded.
"Couldn't you just use your House Elf?" the janitor asked, and we all paused, as we hadn't thought of that.
"Right," I muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "Inky?"
The House Elf, who hadn't left my side after teleporting me here, nodded his head.
"Inky shall go find Missy Scarlett," he replied, before vanishing with a pop. A few seconds passed before he returned, two people appearing on the ground alongside the House Elf.
"So, that's the intruder?" I guessed, looking down at the man Inky had brought along.
"Smells like it," the werewolf guard confirmed.
However, my attention was more focused on Scarlett, and what had happened to her. And, I supposed, to the chuckle-fuck who'd broken in. Both of them were unnaturally still, not even breathing, with their eyes wide open while a faint yellow glow surrounded them. They were alive, if the light in their eyes was any indicator, but beyond that, I couldn't tell anything else.
"Merula?" I asked, turning to the Potions Mistress.
"The two of them got doused in an experimental potion," she said with a grimace after inspecting the duo. "Something I stopped trying to work on a while ago."
"Alright, what exactly did you make?" I inquired, feeling like I was not going to like what I was about to hear.
"I created a potion that creates temporal distortions," she explained, and I ran a hand over my face.
"You made a potion that can mess with time?" I demanded incredulously.
Though, a part of me was jealous. I'd been trying to figure out a way to mess around with time for a while, and she came up with something on her own?
"Sorta? It's more of a stasis potion," Merula said. "I was inspired by this movie, Star Wars, that Scarlett showed me. You know, the scene where they seal Han Solo in Carbonite to transport him? Well, I was thinking I could make a potion to do something similar. Well, more along the lines of a potion to put somebody in suspended animation."
"Doesn't the Draught of Living Death already do that?" I asked, confused.
"Well, yeah, but not as good. You're still alive, just in a coma. Time still passes, meaning you get older, and if you're hurt, you'll heal at a normal rate. You just don't suffer the hunger, thirst, or the usual muscular degradations while under the effect of the draught, at least if the potion is of a high enough quality. This potion, though? It's like you're trapped in a bubble of stopped time. Nothing can happen to you, meaning people can be taken in for healing without issue if they're too hurt for side-along apparition or Port Keys," Merula informed me.
"That sounds incredibly useful, actually," I commented, wondering why it was in the failure warehouse.
"Yeah, but the problem with the potion is that it's bloody volatile around magic," Merula explained, frowning all the while. "Even just casting a Lumos in the same room as it will cause it to explode and catch everybody nearby in the effects. And it cannot be stored near other potions. That's why I stopped experimenting with it. Too unstable, especially around a workshop like mine. There's also some other problems, but I'm not gonna get into the technical details right now."
That caught my attention, and not in a good way.
"What?" I uttered. "How did it explode, then? And where were you keeping it?"
"I'd kept the only sample of the stuff locked up in a lead-lined safe in the floor of my office. No magic at all!" Merula quickly stated. "And if it exploded… I guess he used magic near it."
"Magic, huh?" I looked over at the intruder, frowning.
"How did he know where the safe was in the first place?" the janitor spoke up, which was a very pertinent question.
"I can think of only two people besides myself who know it even exists," Merula admitted. "The guy who installed it, and the person who helped renovate my office so the damn thing could even fit."
"Vell, that helps narrow it down," the vampire guard muttered, and I nodded.
"Technically, three people besides yourself," the old janitor admitted. When we looked at him for clarification, he just shrugged. "I clean up in there, after all. Not hard to notice when one part of the floor is fake and concealing something beneath it."
"Ah. Yeah, true," the head of my potion brewing business agreed, looking embarrassed to have forgotten about the help.
"So? Did you tell anyone?" I asked him, cutting to the heart of the matter.
"No, sir, Mr. Rose! Never mentioned it to anybody in any way! And if I'm lying, the contract will let us know! I swear on it!" he proclaimed. When the contract he'd signed didn't activate after swearing on it, we all nodded, though I resolved to keep an eye on him. It was a bit suspicious in my opinion.
'Yes, he'd come clean, and claimed he hadn't done anything with the knowledge, but that could just be a ruse to make himself seem innocent,' I thought to myself. 'And there are ways around the Oath-binding effects of the contract. It's not foolproof, after all. Nothing is.'
Also, why was the janitor here, now, in the middle of the day? Didn't they usually do work later, closer towards the evenings? That was how I set things up, at least.
Making a mental note to have his background checked latter, I turned back to the young woman with dual-colored hair.
"We can deal with security leaks in a moment. Can you fix whatever is wrong with them?" I asked intently.
"Oh, sure, it's not that hard. A Finite will undo things in a jiffy," she replied. "And don't worry, it's no longer volatile once the potion's affected somebody."
"Well, that answers my next question," I replied. "Undo Scarlett, please. Don't bother with the intruder just yet. We'll put him somewhere safe for interrogation, and then undo the effect."
"Yes, sir, mister boss man," Merula said, giving me nod, before pulling out her wand and muttering "Finite Incantantum," over the red-headed werewolf.
The glow around her body vanished like a soap bubble popping, and with a jerk, Scarlett sat up, raising her hand.
"Stop right-!" she began, clearly thinking she was still confronting the thief, but blinked and looked woozy when her surroundings weren't as they'd previously been. "Huh? What's going on?"
"You got caught in a magical accident when the thief broke in," Merula explained as she cast a diagnostic spell on the security chief. "Hm. All good, no lingering issues."
That was a relief, and I kneeled down next to her. "Scarlett, can you tell me what happened?"
"Where is he?" she asked, ignoring my question to look around. When she spotted him next to her, frozen in place, Scarlett sagged in relief. "Oh. Good, he didn't get away."
"Scarlett, focus," I requested, injecting a note of authority into my voice. "Explain what happened here."
She blinked, but then blushed a little when she realized I'd been here the whole time, and she hastily cleared her throat.
"I got a heads up from Merula that somebody was snooping around," Scarlett replied. "There wasn't supposed to be anybody inside Warehouse 3 at the time beside her, so I came down to check on the situation with a Portkey. When I arrived, I alerted the other security guards on duty, had Bob go around back to keep him from trying to book it from the rear, and then came straight here. I got inside with the master key, escorted Merula outside, and then went back inside. I found the intruder easily with my sniffer."
She tapped the side of her nose with a smug smirk, before frowning. "He was in Merula's office, and I'd just kicked the door down to confront him when there was this flash of yellow… and the next thing I know is I'm waking up out here."
"Yeah, sorry about," Merula apologized. "The intruder used magic near a volatile potion I'd stored in my safe, so it kinda blew up and caught you in the blast radius."
The potioneer rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Though it's weird that the explosion reached you. The safe was underneath my desk, and that's five meters away from the door. In the previous tests, the potion's area of effect was only two meters, max!"
"Could it have gotten stronger vith age?" the vampire wondered, and Merula frowned thoughtfully.
"Maybe? Chronomancy is not something I know much about. Potions don't usually get more potent with age. They weaken. Still, that's an interesting thing to test."
"Do so later, and with strict defenses," I ordered, before looking back to Scarlett. "It's good to know you're fine. And excellent job rushing out to confront the thief. Just bring more back-up next time and don't have them sit around outside."
"Yes, boss," she replied with a nod.
"Good. Now, Merula… stun the janitor."
"What?!"
"Sure thing."
There was a sizzle and thump, and the janitor collapsed, stunned.
"Nobody was supposed to be here at this time, you said?" I asked Scarlett for confirmation, and she nodded slowly.
"That's right."
"Then he shouldn't have been here, either," I said, before turning to the other security guards. "Can one of you get me the schedule for today?"
The werewolf of the duo nodded and hurried off, while the vampire called out for the third member of the team who'd been guarding the rear entrance.
A moment later, a sheet of paper that had this weeks work schedule for Warehouse 3 was handed to me, and I looked it over closely. "Someone tampered with this," I uttered darkly after a moment of scrutiny.
Indeed, somebody had placed the janitor's name – which I knew now was Clint thanks to the patch on his shirt – onto the work schedule for today in the time slot from noon till five pm.
Curious, I had Inky fetch me the master copy of the work schedule from my office, and compared it to this one. Nobody was supposed to change these without permission from a manager or higher, and any changes had to be noted down onto the master copy as well.
Having a master copy for every week's work schedule allowed me to better see where and when my employees were supposed to be working. It also helped ensure there were no mix-ups and everyone had their allotted time noted down for overtime and rates. Also, any changes made to the master copy would magically be placed onto every other one, so nobody would miss out.
Not many people knew about this ability of the master copies, though, so trying to change the regular work schedules to try and run a 'clerical error' scam wouldn't succeed.
Now, this wasn't an iron-clad sign of foul play on the janitor's part, but it certainly painted an unpleasant picture.
"What do we do with them?" Scarlett asked, looking from the thief to the traitor.
"Separate them and interrogate them," I ordered. "Find out what they know, then erase that from their minds, and come up with a story for them. We'll turn the thief in to the police as we caught him in the act, but the janitor will be allowed to go free."
"Even if he's a traitor?" Merula asked.
"Especially if he's a traitor. Better the turncoat you know and can feed false information to than the spy you have no idea of," I replied, and Scarlett and the other guards nodded in agreement. I then gestured towards the thief. "Before that, though… undo the stasis. I want to check something."
Merula shrugged and did so, and when he jerked around and came back to his senses, I hit him with a Stunner Ofuda, knocking him back out.
Why did I do this, you ask? Because the wannabe thief had a ring on his right hand that had caught my attention, and I bent down, prying it off his hand.
"This is a magic ring," I said.
"You sure?" Scarlett asked.
"Yes," I confirmed. "See these markings? They're runes."
"What does the ring do?" the werewolf inquired.
"Lock and unlock things," I replied as I examined the runes closely. "The person would have to be a Squib to use it, but it could easily undo any mechanical lock, and could even open objects sealed with minor anti-tampering charms."
"A powerful artifact," Scarlett mused. "Not something an average person would have."
"Indeed. It's also old. Look at how worn the metal is? It was made over a century ago, at least, based on the corrosion and wear-and-tear I can see," I stated.
I would need a proper jeweler to check and give me a better idea, but it was interesting all the same. And if this thief was connected to Sir Briar, like I suspected he was, that just told me he knew about magic and had access to some of it.
My security team led the two fools away, and I gave a nod at Merula. "Well done."
"No problem, boss."
"Now, let's discuss some of your 'experiments' and the importance of informing people about what you're doing, hmmm?"
Merula paled, and she winced. "Yes, boss."
I had Inky port us back to my office. She would get a stern talking to, but it'd be a slap on the wrist at worst. Her experiments hadn't caused any major harm, and just might help lead me to the secrets I sought regarding finding a way to manipulate time for my own purposes.
Chapter 78: Chapter 78: Confronting Cruel Schemes
Chapter Text
Chapter 78: Confronting Cruel Schemes
"As I expected," I said with a sigh, running a hand over my face. I was frustrated at having my suspicions be confirmed. Both men had been working for Sir Briar. The interrogation report said so in black and white.
I was glad it didn't take long, just a couple hours to extract everything we needed and then wipe their memories. But I'd missed dinner in order to deal with this mess and my rumbling tummy was making me cranky.
Scarlett just gave me an apologetic look, but I waved her concern off. "It's fine. On to more important things. Did you find out how the janitor managed to get around the Oath he made when signing his employment contract?"
Alastor Walker was the man's name. A Squib, one who'd been given away to the foster care system and hadn't known he was magical until he was in his twenties, when he noticed things were under Muggle Repelling and Notice Me Not charms. Poor man had thought he was going crazy, though, and was institutionalized. He got out after six years thanks to some help from some other Squibs, one of whom worked in the mental institute and recognized the signs of magical awareness, but had a hard time finding work after that.
Odd jobs off and on since then, until he was recommended to me. He was in his forties, and was a hard worker. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd also been approached by Sir Briar, or one of his minions more likely, and agreed to do some good old fashioned industrial espionage for a few thousand quid.
He'd tried to be sneaky about it, attempting to fake a schedule change for the work shifts to cover for his presence. Then, he'd snuck David Carmighton, our little thief, into the warehouse, unlocking it to allow. The only reason the janitor had been caught was because he hadn't counted on Merula being a workaholic and working during her lunch break, which gave her time to contact security.
Or maybe he'd have gotten away with it if he'd just waited for when it was actually time for him to go in for work and given if uniform to the thief, pretended to be robbed, and nobody would know he'd been working against me. But he'd gotten greedy and had tried to stage the break-in literally the day after he'd been approached.
Come to think of it, the janitor had screwed up quite a few times. Not that he'd known about some of the security measures in the first place, but it didn't make me happy.
"Yes. He did not go against the contract directly. All he did was deliver a man to where he needed to go in order to break into the warehouse, and change a few things on the work schedule to make it look like he was supposed to be there at the time," Scarlett informed me.
"Wouldn't that have triggered the intent of the contract at the very least?" I asked, confused. Mr. Walker knew he was working against me! He'd been paid to do so! That should have caused some reaction to the magic within him!
"It would have… if he hadn't also put in his two-week notice… two weeks ago. As of yesterday, he was technically no longer employed."
"That… that does make sense, unfortunately," I muttered. "The contract only works while he's under it. But if he quit, then it doesn't work. And somehow, Sir Briar, knew this."
"Why did Mr. Walker quit?" I asked after a moment to think it over. "Was he unhappy with his position?"
"Nobody wants to be a janitor," Scarlett huffed. "And with those House Elves, his position was mostly superfluous."
"Not everything can be cleaned up by elves or magic," I reminded her, but couldn't deny her first point.
"Anyways, he wanted to get a promotion, but didn't get it due to his lack of schooling. We assumed he would try to get a degree or take lessons part-time, but he chose to quit so he could focus on classes full-time."
"But that would cost money," I finished for her, and she nodded.
"Yeah. He took the deal when he was approached after work yesterday, and the contract didn't activate because he wasn't under it anymore."
That was annoying, because it was a loophole I couldn't really close that easily. Oath Binding Ink was powerful, but it only worked so long as the contract did. If it was broken or simply ended naturally, then all of the power it held vanished.
Some elements of the contract lasted even after it dissolved. Even if they quit or were fired, they couldn't speak about the presence of magic in my businesses. Though that was partly because I was piggybacking off of the Statute of Secrecy. Technically, the Statute had no real power, but it had still been attached to a ritual that had affected the whole planet, so the Oath Binding Ink was empowered by it.
There was a lot of arithmancy and high-concept magic involved that I didn't fully understand, but I trusted Remus and Sirius when they explained that to me.
"He didn't try to get inside, so the wards weren't triggered by him, but he did inform people about the layout of Warehouse 3, including the location of the safe," I said, going over the facts one more time. "And all because he quit, meaning the contract didn't affect him. Is that all?"
"That's it," Scarlett confirmed.
"What about Mr. Carmighton?" I asked. "What else did you get out of him beyond 'works for Sir Briar?'"
"As the report states, we had to use Veritaserum mixed with a Babbling charm to get him to talk," Scarlett said. "He's a hatchet man for Sir Briar, working under Hugo Farton."
"And Hugo is guy who makes sure Sir Briar gets what he wants. A real spooky bastard with mafia ties," I added, recalling what I knew about him from previous investigations.
Hugo was the polite face Sir Briar used when he spoke with the criminal elements. And Mr. Carmighton was one of the many agents he had at his disposal.
"Carmighton is a free agent. Takes jobs from other people, but always comes back to Sir Briar and Hugo if they ever ask for anything. He's also a Squib," Scarlett explained.
"Which is where he got the ring," I mused, pulling the rune-engraved artifact from my pocket. "His magical family."
"Not quite. It appears Carmighton received the ring from Sir Briar as a reward for a job he did long ago. But, according to Carmighton, Sir Briar did know it was magical, and was aware of what it could do."
"He would never give something like that away if he could use it," I muttered. "Sir Briar isn't a Squib, then. But he knew one. That's how he got all those magical items in the first place."
"That was Carmighton's assumption, too," the werewolf nodded.
"But why would Carmighton go along with this?" I muttered. "Why would Hugo and Sir Briar go along with this incredibly rushed and reckless plan?"
Trying to break into a warehouse in the middle of the day was already risky, and pretending to still be employed at the place you used to work at while pulling off a heist was extra layers of risk added to that. Yes, it might work, but too many people were aware of the janitor's status for it to work when it inevitably came under scrutiny.
Mr. Walker had even put his name onto the schedule for today even though he'd quit the day before, meaning he would be the obvious suspect. Even the local mundane constables would find it suspicious and pay him a visit. So how did anyone involved in the plan think it was a good idea?
"They weren't planning on this succeeding in the first place," I realized in shock, and Scarlett blinked in confusion.
"What do you mean, boss?"
"Sir Briar never expected some random janitor to be able to plan a heist that would benefit him," I explained. "It was a distraction!"
This had all been a trick! A scheme to get us to look at something else while another plan was in the work! And I'd played right into their hands!
Scarlett grimaced, starting to nod along with my assumption. "I think I see where you're going with this, boss. He wanted our eyes here while he went after us from a different direction."
'But what was he aiming for? What did Sir Briar actually want to target?' I wondered, mind racing. 'And did I disrupt his plans by catching the thief so quickly, or am I still playing into his hands?'
I didn't know, and it concerned me greatly. Looking up at Scarlett I began to issue instructions.
"Set the security teams on high alert. But don't let the regular people know something is going on. Keep it on the down-low. Only inform the inner circle that there may be problem and have them keep an eye out."
"Yes, boss!" Scarlett said, hand snapping up in a salute, and I couldn't help but snort at that.
"And don't forget to drop Walker off at his apartment, and Carmighton at the bobbies," I added as an afterthought. "After wiping their memories, of course."
My temporary head of security nodded and left the office, hurrying away to do as I'd requested. That left me alone to continue doing business long into the night, waiting for any word to come in.
It was nearing midnight before I got a call from Marky Fetters.
"Boss, bad news! I got wind of some right bellends about to make a move on your apartment!" Mark exclaimed, all but shouting into the phone. "It's a rush job, looks like! You went and spooked somebody when you caught Carmighton, and now they're sending in the goon squad to ransack the place!"
"Jokes on them, that place is trapped to hell and back," I smirked, before frowning. "That can't be all, though."
"Yeah, I'm having my boys look into things. Roaches coming out of the corners, now. Be careful!"
"Will do. And you stay safe as well. Don't let anyone know you're leaking information to me. I don't want my best contact in the criminal underbelly to get caught," I told him.
"Doing my best, boss!" Mark replied, before hanging up.
"Sir Briar has made his move," I mused aloud to myself as I put the phone back in the cradle.
There was something wrong bubbling in the background, I could feel it! Still, I wasn't worried about anyone getting inside my apartment. Inky, Sirius, and Remus had made sure it would be nigh impenetrable to mundane means.
All of a sudden, Inky popped into the room, looking frantic. "Master Eddy! There are bad men at Missy Sammy's! And Rainy says more are trying to go after the Dursleys!"
"Shit, he's going for everyone!" I realized. Did Sir Briar panic and just decide to grab every potential hostage? "What about the Parsons?"
"Mister and Missy Parson are fine at home, but Missy Kate is out!"
"Find her!" I urged.
"What about the others?"
"Sam has a Portkey, if she's in danger she'll end up at the safehouse, but Kate doesn't have that, so she's the priority," I said. "As for the Dursleys… where are they?"
"They are currently driving around trying to find an ice cream shop that is still open."
I resisted the urge to groan loudly upon hearing that. "Are they that stupid and gluttonous? Who goes out this late at night for ICE CREAM?!"
I knew why, of course. Neither Petunia nor Vernon could say no to 'Dudders' and would always go along with his whims, no matter how ridiculous. Seriously, what kind of parents let their kid eat ice cream at midnight? And what sort of irresponsible adults actually go out of their way to cater to his whims?!
'I'd have thought the Dursleys would have settled down without Harry around, but it honestly seems like they've been getting worse without him,' I thought darkly.
Had Harry somehow been holding back the worst of their excesses? That thought was hard to fathom, but the proof was there in the pudding. Or ice cream, in this case.
"Alright, tell Scarlett to send some security over to the Dursleys," I sighed, running a hand over my face.
"And where will you be going, master?"
"I'm going to find Kate," I replied. "If Sam uses her Portkey, tell her I'm already looking for Kate. Sam can help look for her sister is she wants."
"Yes, sir!" Inky saluted. He then popped me away back to the apartment, and went down to my car, getting in and deciding to drive around, doing some searching on my own. I didn't think I'd find anyone, but that didn't mean I couldn't help.
'I should really start putting tracking charms on everyone,' I thought to myself. 'That would make it so much easier to find people when their in danger. Perhaps I could incorporate it into their clothing? Oh! Maybe a tracking tattoo! That would be harder to remove than just a piece of jewelry or clothing.'
While I was contemplating new ways to ensure the safety of my friends, family, and employees, my pager beeped, and I saw the code for 'Mark' and 'Club' flashing on the screen when I checked it. Concerned, I started driving towards the nightclub.
When I got there, one of Mark's guys ushered me into the back towards some private rooms. Inside, I found Delilah sitting on a couch while stroking the head of a sleeping Kate. Leaning against the wall was Mark himself, a thunderous look on his face as he glared down at a man lying on ground, face bloody and hands ziptied behind his back.
"Delilah?" I muttered. What was she doing here?
"Ed!" she exclaimed, relieved to see me. She didn't try to move, though, as Kate's head was still in her lap and she didn't want to wake her.
Though given how soundly asleep Sam's sister was, she must have been drugged.
"What's going on?" I asked, walking over to their side and sitting on the couch next to Delilah.
"Kate and I were attacked," she said. "Mr. Fetters protected us."
I narrowed my eyes at that. "Explain, please."
"I was having a girl's night out with Hildagarde and my friends, when we ran across Kate," Delilah explained. "We decided to hang out together."
I looked over at Mark to confirm this, and he nodded.
"She was partying in the club when I got the head's up from Scarlett," Mark explained. "As soon as I learned about that, I had somebody watch her."
He kicked the ziptied man on the ground. "This dirtbag slipped a roofie into her drink. He was working with the guys in the other room. They paid him to do it, so they could kidnap her."
"Huh. Good job," I said, giving Mark a nod. "How'd you avoid Kate drinking the drugged drink?"
"My guy acted drunk and bumped into her. Made her spill it. Played it up, had him 'thrown out' of the club for making a scene and apologized to her with a new drink," Mark explained. "Then I had my boys drag the guy with the roofies into the back for a bit of discipline."
"It was great!" Delilah said, giggling despite the dangers she'd just narrowly avoid.
"And then what happened?" I inquired. How did that lead to… this?
"When their plan didn't work, the kidnappers tried to do things a little bit more forcefully," Mark said with a grimace.
"How much more forceful are we talking?" I asked in concern.
"One of them pulled a knife and tried to stab Miss Delilah, causing a commotion," Mark replied, and my eyes narrowed.
"I see," I said darkly.
"The Runeweaving protected me," Delilah assured me, putting a hand on my arm. I sagged a little in relief, glad that I'd insisted that Hildegarde put protective runes into all of the clothes we owned. Expensive and time consuming, but it proved to be worth every quid.
"Good. Good. What happened after that? I didn't see any cops, nor did the club look like there had just been a failed stabbing," I pointed out. The nightclub looked completely fine. No panicking patrons in sight.
"Ah, that was because of a little Memory charm," Delilah admitted. "People did start to scream when they saw the guy draw a knife on me. But I had an Obliviate Ofuda that I supercharged. Blasted the whole club."
"How'd you avoid being affected by the spell?" I asked. The light was just a side effect of the spell, so not looking at the flash wouldn't actually protect you from being brain-wiped.
"I didn't," Delilah admitted, blushing a little in embarrassment. "I forgot a whole minute because of the Ofuda."
"Then, the man with the knife was caught some other way?" I guessed.
"Yeah, he forgot he was carrying it and stabbed himself when he tried to cover his eyes with his hands from the flash," Delilah said with a snort, and I smirked in amusement.
"That must have sucked."
"Yup. Blinded himself. Of course, the sight of blood caused a bit of a panic, so it was almost like I hadn't even used the Ofuda in the first place," Delilah said dryly. "Now, since I didn't remember 'why' he had a knife I kept my distance. The other three members of his party tried to rush us, thinking I'd attacked him, though."
"Alright, that makes sense," I muttered.
"My boys noticed – kinda hard not to with the screaming and blood – and stepped in. But you'll never guess what happens next," Mark drawled.
"Something stupid? Well, stupider than stabbing themselves in the eye with their own pocket knife?" I guessed, and Delilah and Mark both laughed. It was not a nice laugh, being full of venom.
"Oh, yes. Absolutely stupid," Deliah sneered. "One of the two tried to rush me, but slipped on some spilled drinks and hit his head on a table, passing out instantly. Then, the last fellow tried to grab me, but he fail to do so and I managed to give him a proper knee to his groin."
"Ouch," I winced.
"Yes, the stupidity continued when the man who'd stabbed himself ripped the knife out! He's not dead, though. We managed to get some first aid before he bled out. Still, he lost an eye for that recklessness," Mark scoffed.
"So, how did you deal with all of that? Surely somebody would have tried to call the police?" I asked.
"Eh, I'm sure somebody might have tried, but I locked down the landlines in the club. Nobody made any calls from here, I can assure you of that," the club owner promised. "Throw in a couple of Obliviate Ofuda, and nobody should remember the events of the night if we don't want them to."
Belatedly, I remembered that cellphones weren't exactly common yet at this time. There was thus very little chance anybody managed to call for help without finding a landline, and if Mark really did have complete control over access to them, then it was probably safe. Possibly.
"Anyways, the men who tried to cause trouble aren't going to be a problem again," Mark vowed.
"Good to hear. What about Kate, though?" I asked.
"She's tired from all of the excitement," Delilah replied. "I provided her a Calming Draught and she was out like a light when all the adrenaline stopped flowing."
"At least she's safe and secure," I muttered, before turning to Mark. "Thank you for keeping them safe."
"Of course, boss," he replied.
"And rip everything you can from the bastards," I ordered, and he smirked darkly.
"Sure thing. Been a while since I've had to do this. Time to remind a few people I'm still in the game and got all my teeth, even if I've been leashed."
I nodded at him, well-aware of what he'd do to the wannabe kidnappers. It was distasteful to use these methods, but in this case, Mark's criminal background was helpful for me.
"What about the others?" Delilah asked me. "If they were willing to stage an abduction here, are the Parsons alright? How's Sam?"
"Haven't heard anything from Sam yet, so I believe she's fine. Her emergency Portkey would have saved her in any case," I pointed out. "Still, I sent some security to her apartment. Just in case. As for Mr. and Mrs. Parson, I also ensured they'd be protected. A House Elf is watching over them in secret. Anyone who tries to break in will not like it."
I then frowned. "There's also the Dursleys. I don't know where they are, but they were driving around last I checked. They should be fine. Hopefully. I'll have to check."
Rubbing my chin thoughtfully, I decided I'd worry about them later. Right now, Sam, Kate, and the rest of the Parson family were the important ones right now.
"What should we do?" Delilah asked him.
"I think taking Kate home is the best idea," I suggested after thinking it over. "Do you need a ride as well?"
"Yes, that's probably for the best," Delilah agreed, flashing me a smile. I smiled back before leaning down to shake Kate awake.
"Come on, Kate. I'm not gonna carry you to the car so you can wake up, now!"
She grumbled in annoyance and refused to stir, but a few pokes from Delilah finally caused her to sit up and rub her eyes.
"I was having a nice nap," she complained, before yawning loudly.
"Sorry about that, but it's time to get you home," I told her. She blinked sleepily at me before gasping, only just now realizing I was standing in front of her.
"Ah! E-Ed?!"
"That's me. Delilah called me to come take you home. And to make sure you were safe," I told her, hiding an amused grin.
"Oh… okay," she muttered, embarrassed to have been seen sleeping. She then looked down at the man who'd been left tied up on the floor. "Um, what about him?"
"We'll take care of it," I told her. Kate didn't look like she believed me, but Delilah put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"It will be fine," Delilah assured Kate. "There is nothing that will happen to you."
"I was… it was a shock," Kate admitted, a note of nervousness in her voice. "I don't understand why they did what they did."
"They're criminals who think they can push Delilah and I around. But they will learn that trying to do such a thing isn't going to be easy to get away with," I declared firmly.
Kate nodded her head at that, though she still seemed uncertain about everything. That was fine, though. In fact, it was probably a good thing that she was skeptical. There was a lot going on behind the scenes and I knew Sam would be happier if his little sister didn't know about how deep the rabbit hole went when it came to dark side of business.
Delilah and Kate followed me out of Mark's office, and after the two of them said farewell to their friends who were still in the club and explained they were going home, I led them outside to where I'd parked the car. It wasn't the best parking job I'd ever done, but thankfully didn't spot any tickets.
I drove the duo back to their places, dropping Kate off with her parents first.
"Thank you for bringing her back, Ed," Mrs. Parson said, flashing me a relieved smile, before giving Kate a disappointed look. "She should really know better than staying out this late."
"Sorry, lost track of time," Kate said, pretending like that was issue, and not the fact she'd gone to a club she was definitely too young to get into legally. As far as her parents knew, she'd been hanging with friends somewhere much more acceptable.
"Well, keep the time in mind going forward," Mrs. Parson sighed, before shaking her head and giving her youngest daughter a stern look. Seeing that gaze aimed straight at her, Kate meekly entered her house and retreated to her room.
I had a few more words with Mrs. Parson before bidding her farewell and a goodnight. Returning to my car, I turned to Delilah.
"What next?" I inquired. "Straight to your place?"
"I mean, I suppose I could go there… or! You could offer a poor, frightened maiden the comforting safety of your home," she said, giving me a sad, pleading pout.
"Well, how can I say no to a face like that?" I chuckled. "Sure, we can go back to my place. I'll need to check in with all of the others, though. Make sure the people who tried to go after the Parsons and Dursleys and yourself get what's coming to them."
"Of course. But you can do that with me right by your side," she offered. I smiled. That sounded like a grand idea!
111 &&& 111
"You know, when most people meet in an abandoned warehouse, it's for nefarious reasons," Marky Fetters said with an awkward laugh. He was trying – and failing – to keep from showing any of his nervousness.
Two days had passed since Sir Briar had panicked when his plan to steal from me was thwarted, almost by accident, and he sent a bunch of thugs to kidnap and rough-up the families of the people closest to me.
Though the problem had been resolved, things still needed to be taken care of. First, was that Sir Briar had to be taken down a notch. He could not be allowed to do this again! What if he caught us off guard next time? What if we couldn't react fast enough and somebody got hurt?
Secondly, there was the issue of rewarding everyone who'd been involved. The people who had helped keep the thugs away from the Parsons and the Dursleys got a hefty bonus in their pay cheques for that.
The only person who had yet to be properly rewarded was Mark himself, and I tried not to show too much amusement at his nervous reaction to being escorted to an abandoned warehouse.
"I'm sure you'd know all about that," I drawled, and he nodded weakly.
"I've had to take care of a few finks in my time," he admitted.
"So have I. I've gotten very good at it," I said, somewhat ominously, before flashing him a reassuring smile. "But that's not why we're here."
"Oh? That's a relief," he said, though the man's shoulders were still tense.
Ignoring his fears, I led him to the ritual chamber, because yes, this was where the magic granting ritual had been conducted in the past.
"You've been a big help, Mark. You protected my friends and family, and shown your loyalty," I informed him. "As such, it was decided that you deserve a proper reward."
I gestured towards the ritual circle. "Stand in the circle, if you please. No need to undress."
"What, uh, what does it do?" Mark asked cautiously, not stepping forward.
"That is the future," I replied. "Given to me by Nicholas Flamel himself."
I folded my arms as I looked at him. "Do you want magic, Mark Fetters? Because I can give it to you."
He stared at me, disbelief written across his face. A scowl soon spread, replacing his previous expression, and he glared at me angrily.
"Do you think that's funny? Dangling something like that in front of me?" he demanded.
"It's not funny, because it's true," I replied. "You see, Nicholas Flamel was also a Squib, and he spent his centuries of life trying to find a cure."
Mark looked shocked by that, and I plowed on, taking advantage of his unbalanced mental state.
"He left it behind for me to complete. A ritual to turn Squibs into mages," I revealed. "Sadly, it isn't perfect. People like us won't be able to use wands or other direct-casting foci. But it will make it so we'd be considered 'magical' by the Purebloods' demented ideals and measurements. And it will boost whatever magic we can already do. To say nothing of the fact it will give any future children of ours a much higher chance of acquiring magic for themselves as well."
To demonstrate I pulled out an Ofuda and activated it. It flashed with bright light, and a miniature Lumos sphere floated over my head. However, it was clear that I hadn't needed to use my own blood to activate it. I'd simply willed the talisman to work.
I handed another Ofuda to Mark to test for himself. He had to cut his thumb and smear his own blood over the paper to get it to work, and his Lumos was much weaker. Smaller, dimmer, and clearly different.
Glancing between the two examples of magic, he swallowed and licked his lips nervously. "I… it works? Really works? Permanently?"
"Delilah and I were Squibs. Now? We're not," I replied. "And someday, there will be no more Squibs in the world."
"You're mad," Mark whispered. "They won't…"
"The Ministry can do nothing," I said, cutting him off. "Magic is our birthright. Claim it!"
"What do I have to do?" he eventually asked, staring at the circle.
"Step inside, and drop some blood onto it," I instructed, and he did so, making his way to the ritual.
He used his cut thumb to put some of his own blood onto the circle, and it glowed brightly. When it faded, he looked down at himself, concerned.
"Did it work?" he asked hesitantly.
I said nothing and just handed him an Ofuda as he stepped out of the circle. The moment his fingers touched the paper, the Lumos talisman burst to life. Or rather, light.
Tears sparkled in his eyes, and I politely pretended not to notice them.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"I reward my people when they do good. Especially when they go above and beyond," I assured him. "Now, let me give you a crash course on what you can expect from your newfound magical essence."
As I promised him, I took him into another room and gave the man a quick rundown on what the benefits from the ritual would be. Once his soul stabilized in a couple months, he'd be able to activate runic arrays with just a touch and a thought instead of using blood to trigger the magical effects.
And even until then, there were things Mark could do right away, such as use magical artifacts or brew better potions. While it wouldn't change much in his day to day life, the hardened criminal still had tears in his eyes at finally obtaining what should have been originally his.
"Thank you," he repeated when I was finished. I simply nodded, then had Inky teleport him back to the club.
Alone in the warehouse for the moment, I stared down at the ritual circle on the floor.
'So close,' I thought to myself. I was so close to finishing the ritual! Just a couple more tweaks to ensure it could affect multiple people at once from greater ranges. 'It won't be long, now. The world will have magic again.'
There would be problems, of course. Suddenly having billions of people capable of magic would change a lot. People would panic. Magical diseases would run rampant and accidental magic would do untold damage. Religious fundamentalists would go crazy and tens of thousands of innocents would die in the chaos.
But I had time to make preparations to ensure it wouldn't be too bad. And, in the end, it would be for the greater good. The world would be better off with renewed magic in the entire populace, whether it wanted it or not.
"Fuck," I sighed, covering my face with my hands as the realization hit me. "I'm becoming just like Dumbledore."
Chapter 79: Chapter 79: A Thorny Path
Chapter Text
Chapter 79: A Thorny Path
Sir Briar did not let the matter lie. I hadn't expected him to. A man like him cannot stand being made a fool of or defeated. He needed a win, and he was getting desperate for one.
That was why, following the attempted break-in and follow-up kidnapping attempt, Sir Briar decided to stop trying to do things the criminal way, and instead focused on what he honestly should have been doing from the start: leveraging his legal connections to crush me via the law.
A dozen lawsuits were delivered to my office three days after I thwarted his schemes. Four were completely hooey, the sort of thing even a crooked judge would throw out for being ridiculous. The other eight, unfortunately, were not so easily dismissed.
One was about zoning law violations for one of the warehouses connected to Cauldron Remedies, three were about discrepancies in the taxes for my waste removal business, another two were about contract disputes for some my employees, and the final pair of lawsuits were from people who claimed my products had caused some sort of life-threatening allergic reaction.
Of them, the latter two were the most worrying as they could balloon into bad publicity for me and my company, followed by the taxes being the next biggest threat. You do not mess around with the government's money!
The others I had a good feeling I could handle without too much issue… assuming Sir Briar didn't try and do something to draw them out.
"Get my lawyers on this," I instructed, and my secretary nodded briskly.
I had contracts with Archibald Tarworth's legal practice, with several lawyers and attorneys on retainer, and I was glad I'd maintained a relationship with him over the years, even after no longer needing his help to set up my identity or establishing my first businesses. They would handle the frivolous cases, while also looking into how bad the others would be for me.
'This… could become a problem,' I thought bitterly, drumming my fingers on the desk as I looked at the documents that had been served to me. I had a feeling more would appear soon, even if I did get rid of these current lawsuits.
A few minutes later, the phone on my desk rang, and I grabbed it off the cradle. "Hello. Edward Rose, here."
"Ed, it's me, Archibald," my lawyer said over the line.
"That's quick, I only just contacted your firm," I said, though I felt a tingle of unease run down my spine.
"About that," he began, and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "My partners and I have been contacted by certain people, and some… suggestions were made that we do not represent you during the lawsuits."
"So, that's how Sir Briar is going to do things," I muttered.
"I am sorry," Archibald said, voice laced with misery. "There is not much I can do when the pressure comes from my own partners alongside from outside forces."
"If you cannot help, then I will have to find another way," I declared firmly. Then, a thought struck me. "Wait, if you cannot offer official help… what about something off the record?"
"That may be doable," Archibald replied. "So long as I do not actually agree to take on your cases, I can still look over them and see what they are up to. And, I can offer advice on how to handle them."
"Sneaky. I like it," I chuckled, before getting serious. "There is nothing else you can do?"
"Not right now," he replied apologetically. "And not beyond what I've already offered."
"Then that will have to be enough," I grunted.
"Again, I am sorry," Archibald sighed. "Will you be alright?"
"I'll find a way to deal with this. That old man doesn't know who he's messed with!" I declared, though the bravado rang a bit hollow without any legal representation to work with.
Archibald apologized a third-time, then hung up, leaving me with more problems to deal with. Only this time, my legal team had just been gutted by a single phone call. I still had people on staff whose job was all about legal matters, but without Archibald's firm, I had much less ability to deal with this.
'And I still have that meeting to attend to tomorrow,' I thought, running a hand over my face. My co-conspirators needed to discuss what was happening, and what to do about Sir Briar.
'Soon,' I thought to myself, grabbing one of the files on the desk so I could see what sort of crap I was faced with. 'For now, though, I have to deal with the problems piling up in front of me.'
111 &&& 111
'Finally!' I thought as I locked up my office for the night. 'I thought it would never end!'
For the past day, I'd been running around, putting out fires. So many problems had been cropping up, all of it due to Sir Briar and his antics. The lawsuits were straining my small legal team without Archibald's help.
'Not to mention, some vultures are starting to circle,' I thought.
Certain people believed that because I was in a pickle, I was an easy mark. Quite a few 'concerned investors' offered to take the companies off my hands and deal with the legal issues themselves.
I hadn't been born yesterday, though, and declined them all. Some had been Sir Briar's patsies, others had been working with Delilah's father, and others were just opportunistic scumbags.
Of course, I made sure to make notes of who had made offers so I could crush them later for their arrogance. Once I'd bested Sir Briar, they'd feel my wrath. I wasn't going to let anyone think I could be bought out so easily. Or at all!
However, that was something for later. Even though I was free for the evening, I still had places to be. My work wasn't quite over yet.
I bid farewell to some of my employees on my way out, greeted the vampires who were starting the night shift, and walked outside with a smile. My car was waiting for me in its parking spot, and I climbed inside.
Half an hour later, I was pulling up outside of Grimmauld Place. The place was as gloomy as ever, even if Sirius had tried to spruce up the exterior so it no longer looked like a crumbling, neglected townhouse.
'Hope they don't mind I'm a bit late,' I thought to myself as I got out of the car. I must have hit every red light on the way over!
Walking up to the front, I used the doorknocker, which was shaped like a dragon, to let them know I was here. When I let go, it suddenly reared up, the dragon's head twisting to stare at me.
"Name?" it demanded in a terse, Cockney accent.
"Uh, Edward Rose," I replied. It grunted and turned back into a regular doorknocker, and a second later the door swung open, letting me inside.
I passed by the wall where the portrait of Sirius' mother had previously been, glad to see he'd removed it and replaced it with a cheerful landscape portrait of a sunflower filled horizon.
Hearing voices up ahead, I followed them, and reached the dining room, where the others were waiting for me.
Quite a few people were sitting around the dining room table, and I nodded at them. Sam and Delilah were there, but so were Sirius, Nymphadora, Andromeda, and Edward (the other one). There was also Remus. All the members of the inner circle of our little conspiracy to change the world, gathered in one place.
"Sorry I'm late," I said apologetically. "Traffic didn't want to work with me today."
"Ah, no sweat," Sirius assured me. "We haven't been waiting long."
Relieved, I took my seat.
"Remus! Glad you could make it," I said, shooting a small smile at the werewolf as I plopped down in between him and Delilah. He'd popped over for the meeting by making use of the weekly Hogsmead trip, which was a time nobody would notice he was missing, or mind that he was using the floo at the Three Broomsticks. "How are things with Hogwarts and Harry? No more problems since Christmas?"
There had been no further news regarding the strange spirit Harry had summoned during Christmas. If Remus and Harry hadn't told us about it, we'd have never known. Right now, the Ministry was downplaying everything, but we knew what was going on.
"Harry is fine. Confused and curious, but in one piece. The Ministry though was acting like a bunch of billywigs and doxies after Christmas, all running around without knowing what to do for a while," Remus admitted. "Then spooks from the Department of Mysteries showed up at the school. They tried to 'interview' Harry and Susan, but Dumbledore for once did something right and limited their access to them. They did take a few samples of the dirt near the site of the summoning and readings of the ambient magic, but that was it and they left soon after."
"They're suppressing all knowledge of what happened, but rumors are still leaking out," Andromeda Tonks commented. "People know a bunch of Dementors are gone, but they don't know why or how."
"Not like the Ministry or the Department of Mysteries would admit that there was a way to destroy Azkaban's unholy guardians," Sirius snorted. "It's too dangerous."
"True," I agreed, before suppressing a yawn. "Now, let's discuss the real reason we've gathered here today."
"Yeah. How are things going with the legal stuff?" Sirius asked, giving me a concerned look as I sat down. I must have looked exhausted with those bags under my eyes, and the Animagus wasn't the only one to shoot me worried glances.
"It's fine, I'm just busy. Sir Briar is throwing shit at the walls to see what sticks," I grumbled. "Most of it can be cleared up easily, but all of the noise that's being made is going to cause ripple effects."
"The sharks are circling," Delilah agreed. "And so are the hyenas and vultures. Show weakness in the business world and they descend on you to rip you apart. They don't care why it's happening, but they'll take advantage all the same."
"Sounds like something my old ma and pa would have liked," Sirius grumbled under his breath.
"I'd offer my help, Mr. Rose, but I'm afraid my expertise lies in the realm of magical law and contracts," Mr. Tonks said apologetically.
"The offer is appreciated. And we may need your help, so keep an eye out. After all, we aren't entirely sure how closely connected Sir Briar is to the magical side of things," I pointed out.
From what we knew, he had a lot of Squibs on his payroll and access to magical artifacts, so it was possible he had connections to the Wizarding World. It wasn't likely, but better safe than sorry.
"What do we do, then?" Sam asked. "How do we handle this?"
"I have an idea," I told them. "It's not… well, you probably won't like it."
"I will reserve judgement until you tell me the plan," Remus said, though from the way he'd folded his arms, the werewolf was ready to scold me the moment I proposed something stupid. Or dangerous. Or both.
"By now, I think it's obvious that Sir Briar will not stop," I said, and everyone gave solemn nods at that. "So, in order to stop him, what we need to do is change is mind. Permanently."
"With magic?" Nym asked sharply.
"Yes," I admitted.
"We'd need to get close to him to do that, though," Sirius pointed out. His expression was grim, but he didn't seem as opposed to the idea as some of the others.
"That's why I also suggest we let him think he's won," I revealed. "By doing so, he will lower his guard. And, knowing him, Sir Briar will invite me over to a private setting so he can gloat about defeating me."
"Yeah, that sounds like something he'd do," Delilah agreed. "My father, too, come to think of it…"
"And that would be the opening I'd need to put him under our thrall," I said, finishing my explanation.
"Are we seriously considering putting somebody under mind control?" Remus asked, looking around at us when nobody said anything against that aspect of the plan.
Sirius and Andromeda made sense. No matter how much they tried to distance themselves from the Black family, they were still Purebloods and raised in an environment where magic was the solution to every problem. Edward Tonks' acceptance of the idea was a bit odd, but he did marry Andromeda, so… yeah. He probably knew the risks going in. Delilah, of course, would want any threat to us eliminated, and Sam… her reason was perhaps the most understandable.
Nymphadora looked uncomfortable by the idea of messing with somebody's mind, but she was also holding tightly onto Sam's hand comfortingly. Clearly, the events of a few days ago had spooked her, and Nym, despite being an Auror trainee, was willing to bend a few rules to keep her girlfriend safe.
"He went after my family!" Sam said as she clenched her hands into fists with barely suppressed rage. "I can't… he could have hurt them! Killed them!"
"Not to mention the 'accidents' and kidnapping attempts he's ordered, to say nothing of all the theft and legal troubles he's been throwing our way," Delilah pointed out, her own face marred by a furious scowl. "Sir Briar is not a good man, Remus. Ed is right. He won't stop unless we stop him first. And it's either mind control or murder."
Remus's face twisted in disgust, but he couldn't deny that those were our only real options. We lack the political and economic clout to buyout or overturn the old bastard's businesses, and there was simply no way we'd be able to stand up to Sir Brair if he pressured us any further.
"What exactly did you have in mind to make Sir Briar think he finally has the upper hand?" Sirius inquired, bringing the conversation back to the salient point.
"We stage something. Let one of his schemes come to pass and make it look like it hurt us badly," I told them. "I was thinking we stop fighting against one or two of the lawsuits that I know Sir Briar is discretely backing, and give him the chance to swoop in and 'save' us."
There were plenty to choose from, too. Anti-monopoly lawsuits, patent infringement cases, zoning law violations, false claims of harm from misuse of products… Sir Briar had way too many options and far much time on his hands to try and hurt a medium-sized business owner like myself.
"That's risky," Delilah warned.
"Yeah. But we can't exactly get close to him otherwise. It'd be too suspicious if he suddenly changes his tune, after all. Would Sir Briar ever do that?" I asked her, and my girlfriend grimaced.
"No. If he stops trying to hurt you without gaining anything from it, then people will want answers as to why. And they might not suspect brainwashing, but they will certainly think you had something to do with it. Likely underhanded, too," Delilah admitted with a sigh.
I nodded at that, glad that we all seemed to be on the same page. Well, except for Remus. Letting him go to Hogwarts had been a risk. Dumbledore could have sunk his hooks into him, turning the werewolf into a double-agent, or just twisted his mind enough to make him see things his way.
"Well, Remus? Are you with us?" Sirius asked his friend, likely fearing the same thing I had just imagined. The werewolf was silent for a while, and I understood his struggle.
'Was it better to just kill a man rather than make their mind and thoughts no longer their own?'
That was a question I have had for a while. And honestly… mind control was my greatest fear. Moreso than death. With death, there was, to paraphrase a famous old man with a beard, a chance at a new adventure. Yet to lose your mind and freedom and never know if you were truly in control… that was true horror.
Taking away some of Sir Briar's free will was crueler than killing him, in my opinion, but it was the best option, since the old bastard's death would just mean somebody else would replace him and we'd have to have the same conversation again if his successor was no better and kept doing the same things as before.
'At least with mind control I can influence his decisions in a way that benefit us in the long term,' I thought, nervously waiting for Remus's decision.
"So long as you do not use the Imperius Curse to influence Sir Briar, I will support this course of action," Remus eventually said, and I nodded, relief and gratitude in my posture.
It was good to have lines we would not cross, and I was absolutely fine not messing around with souls like with the Unforgivables.
Remus didn't look happy with his choice, but I think he knew as well as I did that it was the best option out of a bunch of awful ones.
"Absolutely," I agreed. "I have ideas that don't involve that at all, and should be just as effective, if not moreso."
Everyone looked interested, and I raised a hand to stall the questions I knew were coming.
"There are some things we need to discuss before I tell anyone my plan. And I want to do this before Harry and the others return from Hogwarts," I told them, and received a round of nods in agreement. "So, how do we do this?"
We went around the table, discussing plans and ideas for how we could trick Sir Briar into thinking he'd won. Eventually, after much back and forth and some heated words between everyone, we settled on one.
It was currently early March. We had a few months before June and the end of school at Hogwarts, which meant we'd be have to work quickly to set everything up.
Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup to consider. How closely would things conform to the past events that I knew of? Too many variables to consider. Would the Death Eaters show up this time?
The Dark faction had been thoroughly shamed by Sirius' exoneration and Peter's punishment, but so had the Light. It was just as likely that the Death Eaters would act up just because they felt they had to 'regain' some 'pride' as much as it was possible they'd keep their heads down and avoid trouble now that Amelia Bones was on the warpath and just waiting for anyone to do something stupid.
'I should warn Remus about this,' I mused.
"Now that we've discussed the mundane matters, let's talk about something more… magical," Sirius suggested, leaning forward, interrupt my thoughts.
"Oh? And what's that?" Andromeda inquired.
"What else? The ritual, the ritual!" Sirius replied, grinning widely. At that, people began to nod in understanding.
"That's something I'm more than willing to discuss," I said happily.
"We know it works," Edward said, looking at me. "Sam, Delilah, and yourself, are all proof. And so far, no problems have arisen. So, what's the next step?"
"Finding a way to spread it across the entire world is what we need to research next," I claimed. "Though there's going to be a few issues with that."
"Yeah. Making sure it's kept secret won't be easy," Delilah sighed.
"Not to mention, we have to try and find a way to make its effect spread as far as possible," Sam pointed out. "Though that's going to be difficult. It affect my parents from a distance, but that was also because they were Kate's parents."
"Yes, that seemed to be the case," I confirmed. "If a parent is standing within a hundred meters of their child when said child undergoes the ritual, they proximity will be enough to also trigger the ritual within them. But this drains a lot more energy from the environment to do so."
"Sounds like we're going to need a boatload of power," Nym mused, rubbing her chin.
"Leylines and Nexus Points are going to be the key," I agreed. "Unless we find a way to convert electricity into magical energy or can mass produce Philosopher's Stones to store excess energy. And use 'em as batteries."
"Talking about using the Miracle of Alchemy as a battery just sounds weird," Andromeda muttered, and I shrugged.
"Well, we've already figured out a way to mass-produce electricity using magic thanks to Delilah's brilliant hydro-electric generator mock-up," I pointed out. "And to make a Philosopher's Stone, a huge amount of energy is needed, so it's possible we could make them with electricity."
"Not a bad idea," Edward said, Sirius and Remus nodding along.
"I think the next question is 'how long?'" Sam asked. "When do we need to have this project ready to go?"
"Ten years," I declared. "Fifteen at the most. Any further than that, and we truly risk the mundane world discovering magic's existence. Technology is growing even faster than we – or the progress resistant wizards – can keep up with."
Expression turned grim at my predication. Of the naturally born magicals at the table, only Edward and Remus looked like they truly believed my warning. Though that made sense, seeing as the former was a Muggleborn and the latter had lived a decent chunk of his adult life in the muggle world. Both knew how quickly society could advance, and it'd only been happening more rapidly as the technology got better, which of course lead to faster improvements.
"I'd say aiming closer to two decades should be our ultimate goal, but yes, it needs to happen sooner than later," Edward agreed.
"We'll need seven sites," I continued, having already thought this over. "One for each continent. We'll also have to place the rituals at the most powerful Leyline Nexi in the regions, so the ritual will be carried throughout the world by the Leylines themselves."
I fished Flamel's journal out of my pocket and extracted a map of Europe I'd tucked away in it. "I've begun mapping out the Leylines in Europe. Most of the information on them is public, and I've gotten all of the UK done. Still working on the mainland, but with my contacts in France, that should be no trouble."
"Smart," Sirius commented.
"Your preparations are well-done," Remus agreed, peering at the map. "And your investigations seem thorough."
"Thankfully, most of the world's Leylines are already decently known. For instance, the Nazca Lines in South America seem to be mapped to some of the major Leylines in the area," I claimed, taking out new maps for North and South America. "And in North America, the largest Leyline concentration is actually in Ohio of all places."
Why it was there, I had no idea. There didn't seem to be anything special about the place, but almost all of the Leylines in Canada and the USA passed through the Ohio Super Nexus, or were connected to Leylines that did.
"Australia's major Nexus point is below Ayers Rock, and Asia's is located in Tibet at Mount Everest," I continued.
"And Europe's?" Sam asked curiously.
"Albania, interestingly enough," I said. "I think that might be why Moldy-Shorts went there when he was defeated. The strongest source of free-flowing magic in Europe would have helped sustain his wraith-like existence."
The Tonkses all shuddered at my mention of the Dark Lord, even though I'd deliberately messed up his name.
"The real problem is going to be Antarctica and Africa," Delilah sighed. "The former because nobody's really explored it with the intent of magical research, and Africa… is Africa."
Everyone grimaced at that. The mundane side of the continent was in a state of upheaval, while the magical side was doing its best to ignore it. Muggleborn warlords were even stirring the pot, taking bites out of the war-torn continent.
It seemed that the primary Leylines within Africa were guarded by Uagadou, the main magical school in the continent, and they had done their best to obscure all information about their school's location. It was somewhere in Uganda, in the Mountains of the Moon, but beyond that, no European wizard or witch had ever been allowed to learn more.
'Even Flamel never learned of the school's exact spot. I think only the Supreme Mugwump would be allowed to know the secret, but beyond that, I'd have to try and make a deal with the African magical governments, and those aren't fans of the rest of the world… for obvious reasons,' I thought to myself bitterly.
'Actually, if I'm not mistaken, the Rwanda Genocide will be occurring soon,' I realized with a horrified grimace as another thought surfaced in my mind while thinking about Africa. 1994… that was the year it happened. This year.
I immediately took a dip into my mind via Occlumency and soon had the exact date from a history class in a previous life: April 7th to the 19th of July this year.
'Shit!' I thought. Could I do something about this? I couldn't stop it… but could I save people?
"Ed? Is everything okay?" Delilah asked, having seen my face turn pale.
"I-I just…" I stammered, before swallowing. "A vision. About atrocities in Africa."
"Africa?" Nym asked with a frown.
"In Rwanda. There's… there's going to be a civil war. And a genocide," I revealed, and the group paled.
"What?" Sam gasped.
"Are you sure?" Andromeda asked, and I nodded weakly.
"I might be wrong. Some of my predictions haven't come true… or happened differently to what I'd seen. But I have a bad feeling about this one," I explained.
"Rwanda… I don't know much about that country," Delilah admitted, and Sam nodded at that.
"I know it's somewhere in Africa, and they make coffee, but that's it," Sam said.
"We need to find a way to stop this," I declared firmly, earning a few nods of agreement.
"Hold on! Is this really something we should concern ourselves with, though?" Andromeda asked, and everyone's heads twisted to look at her, expressions of disbelief and shock on several faces.
"Mom!" Nym exclaimed. "What the heck?! How can you say that?!"
"I'm just saying that we have many problems of our own here!" Andromeda shot back, trying to defend her words. "And just because we know of the tragedy doesn't mean we can do anything to stop it!"
"So it's wrong to want to help people?!" I retorted angrily. "If I know about this, I can try and save people, can't I?! Shouldn't I?!"
"Of course not!" Andromeda responded hotly. "But we're already overwhelmed with matters regarding the Dark Lord and these bloody legal shenanigans! A foreign, mundane issue is not something we can drop everything for!"
"Are you serious?!" I uttered. "Of course we need to do this!"
"You still haven't told us what your plan for dealing with Sir Briar even is!" the furious older woman reminded me. "How can we stop everything to do this?"
"Okay, okay, simmer down, everyone," Sirius called out, raising his hands as if to physically separate me from his cousin, even though we weren't sitting next to each other. "This isn't productive!"
We did, in fact, simmer down, though there was still anger and frustration bubbling away inside me due to Andromeda's dismissiveness. I knew that we were stretched thin, but how could I possibly not help when I knew what was coming? Some disasters I couldn't predict, and some were too difficult to stop, but that didn't mean I should give up!
"So, we've all taken deep breathes, right?" Sirius inquired, and after a moment we all nodded. Seeing that, he grinned. "Great! So, let me tell you all that I'll be heading off to Rwanda to do what I can to help."
That caught everyone off guard, none of us having expected him to volunteer to do this!
"Y-you're really willing to go to Rwanda? On just my word?" I asked, disbelief and hope warring in my voice.
"The reason I'm trusting you about this is because so far, you've shown you care about the well-being of other people… and your 'visions' have all come true," Sirius told me. "So, let me help you out."
He then smirked. "Besides, having a sunny vacation in an exotic locale? That's exactly the sort of thing that's expected of Sirius Black, the roguish ruffian head of House Black."
"More like 'buffoon,'" Andromeda sniffed haughtily, but it was all to cover up her worry towards her cousin's safety.
"I'll be fine, Andy," Sirius assured her gently. "This might just be what I need to get back into shape, too. I haven't exactly gotten much practice with my magic since returning from Azkaban."
"If you're sure," she muttered, and he just nodded.
"I also think the kid is right. If we can help, why shouldn't we?" he replied.
"Thank you, Sirius," I said gratefully.
"No problem," he said breezily. "Now, let's not talk about that, and instead, discuss dinner! We haven't eaten yet!"
That brought some snorts of laughter from the group, and the mood lightened up a bit after the bombshells I'd dropped on them.
"I'm not up to cook anything," Sam said, and Andromeda and Delilah both nodded.
"And I don't trust Kreacher's cooking at all, so takeout it is, then! There's this Indian place nearby, and I'm on a first-name basis with the delivery drivers!" Sirius said with misplaced pride.
People chuckled at that, and everyone seemed content to let things end here. Yet even though everyone agreed that Sir Briar had to be taken down, and that there was a chance we could save tens of thousands of lives by intervening in Rwanda, I felt worried.
Something was coming, but I wasn't sure what. The first ripples of change had already happened, as the Dementors were taken care of by Harry well before the original time.
'And the ripples will eventually become tidal waves,' I thought philosophically. 'Am I going to be drowned by them, or will I ride them to a newer, brighter future?'
Chapter 80: Chapter 80: Laying out Bait
Chapter Text
Chapter 80: Laying out Bait
"…and that's the plan. Any questions?" I asked, looking around the room. Besides myself, there were my three lawyers and a couple people from the financial sector.
"Uh, are you sure, Mr. Rose?" one of my lawyers hesitantly inquired.
"I am," I confirmed with a nod.
"It will result in quite a few hefty costs," he warned. "And the hit to reputation may impact sales… and other matters."
"I know, but it is for the best," I assured him. "The problem is that I have to know when to pick my battles right now."
I waved a hand at the numerous files and documents on the desk between us. "These lawsuits are frivolous, and contesting them will simply result in more money being wasted, especially if certain people try to tie us up in litigations. But that is the point. I want to ensure these are drawn out for as long as possible. Any PR hits we take because of it will fade in time and be forgotten quickly."
"Why, though?" another legal advisor inquired, sounding somewhat incredulous. "We can easily get some of these dismissed! I mean, this one right here! The lawsuit claims that your hair growth cream caused hair to grow in somebody's ears and he's now deaf because of it! So easy to challenge this!"
I snorted, amused. Yes, anybody stupid enough to put hair growth cream so deep inside their ears that they went deaf definitely deserved what happened to them. But it was exactly the sort of thing I needed.
"Yes, we could easily get a judge to overturn some of these lawsuits, but you see, the point of all of this is to loose money," I claimed. "The worse we do in court, the better!"
One of the lawyers nodded slowly, starting to see where I was going, but the others still looked skeptical, especially the guys from the financing department.
"There is a method to my madness," I told them. Picking up one of the files, I continued, "See this right here? This zoning law issue for my waste disposal and recycling center is being pushed by some easily bribable government goons whose pocket are being filled by people who want me to fail. Now, I could just bribe them right back. But the more I struggle with dealing with it, and the longer everything is drawn out, the better it will be because that's what certain individuals want."
"You want to lose money… to convince people to bail you out?" one financier asked, his tone a mix of incredulity and intrigue.
"Absolutely," I replied. "I know it may seem odd, but it needs to happen this way. Once I am approached with helping hands, the problems will all just… evaporate. Like dew under the sun."
"This is quite risky," the first lawyer warned me. "If this 'help' does not manifest soon, then your businesses may suffer bankruptcy."
"Really? That's even better!" I said cheerfully. "Bankruptcy will definitely make 'helpful' people crawl out of the woodworks. Can you arrange things to make this go along faster?"
The lawyers and money-men shared disturbed looks, but one of the guys who handled the money for my various businesses nodded slowly.
"I… yes, it's possible. But the risks to the company and especially the employees-!"
"Don't worry, nobody will lose their jobs and there will be no pay cuts," I interjected. "I have… alternative sources of cash that don't need to be mentioned right now. Just make it look like we're spiraling towards bankruptcy. Understood?"
"Yes, Mr. Rose," they said in unison.
Oh, I knew they didn't fully understand. I didn't blame them, though. The only times somebody wanted to run their business into the ground on purpose is when they plan on cutting loose and stealing a ton of funds.
Scams like that weren't exactly uncommon, and if that's what they thought I was doing, then I would let them think that for now.
'They won't be able to tell anyone what I'm planning, regardless,' I thought to myself as I watched them leave the meeting room. The contracts they'd signed would keep them from spilling the beans to anybody outside the company.
'I don't need Sir Briar finding out what I'm doing. Not yet,' I mused.
Hard to believe that just yesterday I was explaining my plan to the others in know. I was excited, because things were finally coming to a head. We were going to deal with this! Sir Briar was going to wish he'd just left me alone!
Or maybe he wouldn't. Hard to say, considering that I was going to be manipulating his mind.
I shuddered, still a little skeeved out by the thought of having to deal with the old man by using magic to twist his free will, but I couldn't do anything else. Giving in would result in me losing direct control over my businesses, and the risk of all the magic I used being revealed was too much.
There was also the fact that I need access to the resources Sir Brair and Gladstone Financial had at their disposal. Researching and creating a globe-spanning super-ritual was not going to be cheap.
'I've spent over a million pounds on materials and supplies to create the ones I've already used,' I thought to myself with a wince.
Dragon's blood wasn't cheap, and yet it was one of the cheapest substances with a bountiful amount of magic I could use to create the special ink that was necessary for the ritual.
Despite my cavalier attitude towards the loss of money I'd shown to my advisors, I really needed this gamble to succeed, or I'd be in deep trouble. I was pretty sure Sir Briar would leap at the chance to get me indebted to him, but there was still the danger of him actually letting me go bankrupt before swooping in and stealing everything from me.
'Of course, if that does happen, Sir Briar loses the secrets of how my medicines and other businesses work,' I thought. This was the key to the gamble, really. I was betting on Sir Briar knowing about magic, and that he knew that my products were so successfully because of this.
If my companies were stolen from me, I'd make sure that Sir Briar wouldn't get the most important parts: the enchanted and runic equipment that allowed me to infuse everything with magic, or the employees who knew how to make and operate everything. I'd destroy the former and my magic contracts ensured the latter would forget everything to do with magic.
'Should that happen, I could always start over again. But Sir Briar cannot, and he'll have wasted a lot of money on a lemon,' I thought, sneering a little at the idea. 'And I have a feeling he knows all of this. I just have to wait and be patient, and that greedy old man will act sooner or later.'
Another idea then hit me. 'Should I get Delilah to help stir things up? If Sir Briar learns that Mr. Hunt will try to step in and help his daughter's boyfriend's company, then the old man will definitely act sooner.
No idea why Sir Briar and Mr. Hunt were such bitter rivals despite being business partners, and I honestly didn't care. Regardless of my opinions towards Delilah's father, if I could use him to my benefit, I would, and I had a feeling Delilah would leap at the opportunity to do so as well.
'I'll bring this up with her later,' I told myself. The idea was a solid one, and if I could play two enemies off of each other to make it better for me, then I'd certainly try.
'Now, it's time to move on to Phase 2,' I thought to myself as I stood up and left the meeting room, taking the files and folders with me.
"Gladys, can you make some calls for me?" I requested from my secretary as I returned to my office, and Mrs. Calloburgh nodded primly in response.
"Yes. Same ones from the list you gave me this morning?" she inquired.
"That's right. No need to make any additions. Just schedule meetings with them," I replied.
"I'll see to it immediately," she assured me and I smiled gratefully. Mrs. Calloburgh was definitely a treasure. So helpful!
111 &&& 111
The next step was controlling the narrative and making it seem like I was bothered by all of these problems hitting.
See, I knew about leveraging technology to get my message out. Interviews in the newspapers, on the radio and TV. I would manipulate perception about me, and ensure that people were sympathetic to me, a poor, struggling start-up businessman, and not taking the side of the litigious assholes trying to sue me.
To that end, I was I'd had my secretary set up a lot of interviews with journalists and a few spots on talk shows. Minor ones, not big news stuff, but it was a start, and I had no doubt I'd be snowballing soon.
Hence why I was currently sitting in a booth at a radio station, preparing to have an interview with Big Ben, one of London's popular DJs and radio hosts for the local radio channel. It was listened to by a large number of people, and was easily the best person Mrs. Calloburgh had managed to book me with.
"So, you ready?" Benjamin "Big Ben" Carlton asked me as he finished his set-ups.
"Sure am," I replied confidently as I adjusted the headset microphone I'd been asked to wear.
"You do seem cool as a cucumber," Ben commented, eyeing me closely. "It's always a toss-up for people I interview."
"I've gotten used to it," I chuckled, causing Ben to snort.
"Suppose so. You know, you're not really the type of person I invite onto the show," he admitted. "I've interviewed actors, musicians, football players, even a guy who saved people from a fire. But no politicians or business tycoons."
"Thank you for the compliment. But I'm not a tycoon. Not yet," I replied and Ben laughed.
"You really are confident!" he said. "Well, let's get this show started!"
A few lights in the studio turned green, and Ben let the intro sound clip play before launching into his speech.
"Wooo! London, it's me! Big Ben here! Sure hope you enjoyed "I Would Do Anything For Love" by Meatloaf! It's still a banger, after all! But you all know that already!" Big Ben said, his on-air persona filling the recording booth. "Now that we've had some fun, it's time for Tall Talks with Big Ben! My guest for today is somebody you may have heard about in the news! He went from selling homemade remedies at Farmer's Markets to the owner of a multi-million-pound medical company, it's Edward Rose!"
"Thank you for having me here today, Big Ben," I said, leaning in so the mic could pick up my voice. "And may I say that Meatloaf really outdid himself with that song? It's going to go down in history, mark my words!"
"That's Big Praise coming from a Big Man like yourself," Big Ben said, and I chuckled softly.
"Just telling the truth. And I'm barely a man, really."
"That's right!" Big Ben said, clapping his hands. "You're only twenty years old, aren't you?"
"Actually, I'm still nineteen," I replied with a smirk. "My birthday is in two weeks."
"Damn! And already a millionaire!" he whistled.
"I had a lot of luck," I replied.
"Is that so?" Ben inquired.
"I met my investors through a tutoring job. One of my clients happened to be the son of some very nice, but also very rich, people. Through their connections I met a lot of helpful people, including the love of my life," I said, smiling fondly.
"I'm sure the single ladies will weep, knowing you're off the market," Ben winked.
"Probably, but I wouldn't have it any other way," I replied. "Still, I am immensely grateful for their help."
"So, it's who you know, eh?" Ben inquired.
"Such is life," I shrugged. "Oh, hard work and a few good ideas doesn't hurt, but you need to make connections. Humans are social creatures, and friends help friends. It's just the way of the world."
"So, if things are hunky-dory, then what's up with all the lawsuits?" Big Ben inquired. "Is it true that your concoctions are, ah, 'unsafe and dangerous?' And that they 'are the work of the devil?'"
"Ah, yes, I remember those two particular claims," I drawled. "I suppose hair growth cream would be dangerous if, say, inserted into the ears, or any other orifice they don't belong. But really, I have clear warning labels saying not to the do that!"
I shook my head as Ben hit the laugh track. When it ended, I continued. "As for the devil comment, well, I'm devilishly handsome, but my Vicar assures me I am not a demon of any sort."
Ben gave a polite chuckle while hitting the laugh track button again, before folding his hands in front of him, his expression switching over to a serious one.
"What's the deal, then? Why do you think you are being targeted like this?"
"Well, obviously, it's because I'm the new player in the game," I replied. "Several of the lawsuits are quite frivolous, and any decent judge would have thrown them out, yet the fact they've stuck around this long proves that somebody is keeping them around for some reason."
"You think this is an attack against yourself?" Ben asked, sounding intrigued. "By the bigger medical players out there?"
"Absolutely," I confirmed. "They're just jealous of my products, and how much better they are. I've gotten death threats from several people I know for a fact are connected to Horton Hair, the biggest name in wig and toupee making in the UK, and Solutien, a hair growth scam product that's existed well before my own, actually useful, hair-growth creams were even introduced."
"Quite the claim," Big Ben said, but the grin on his said told me he was loving the juicy gossip.
"Perhaps, but it's quite easy to find these things out. It's like they weren't even trying to hide how many palms are being greased," I snorted. "Now, I won't name any names out loud, because that would be 'slander' and 'libel,' but I know. And that's the most important part."
"Sounds like you know a lot of things," Ben commented.
"As a certain American hero likes to say, 'knowing is half the battle,'" I said with a dry chuckle. Ben laughed along with me, before turning serious again.
"So, what's your plan, then?" he asked me. "What exactly are you doing to get these problems resolved?"
"Part of that is getting my side of the story out there so certain people can't get the facts twists is Step One," I told Big Ben. "But the other part is going to be making sure my products are as useful and safe as can be so nobody can try to accuse me of selling unsafe products again."
"I see, I see, that makes sense," Ben hummed, before switching topics. "Let's leave that dull and dreariness behind, and talk about something more interesting. Like, what's your company's next big project going to be?"
"Big project, huh? Well, we're not really moving forward with anything right now due to the legal issues hitting us left and right, but before this happened, we were working on something very special," I claimed, and I knew I'd hooked Ben.
"Oh? What would that be? Assuming you can tell me about it, of course."
"Certainly. It's not a secret, just a long-term project that's been put on the backburner for now," I replied. "So, you know my headache and hangover cure?"
"I sure do!" Ben confirmed. "It's damn good stuff! It starts working much faster than anything else I've ever tried. Really helps after a night of partying!"
"Glad to hear I've got one satisfied customer," I smirked, before turning serious. "One of Cauldron Remedies' long-term projects has been to try and create a medicine capable of helping reduce the effects of Alzheimer's and other mental problems, such as concussions."
"R-really?" Ben uttered, and for the first time in the interview I managed to catch him off-guard. He was surprised, and yet there was a hint of… desperation? Or longing? I hid my satisfaction at having found his weakness, and knew I now had an ally in the media.
"Yes. The brain is a delicate thing, and the research was purely in the preliminary phases. But the medicine for fixing hangovers and headaches has revealed some interesting and promising results. We think it may be possible to find a way to eventually help the brain recover from any damage it's suffered by using that medicine as a base," I said, before sighing sadly. "Unfortunately, we had to cancel some of the funding for it, and pause the research while we handle the lawsuits. We simply can't handle all of that at once."
"I-I see," Ben said with a slowly nod, before shaking his head and getting back into his carefree persona. "Well, if you manage to do that, I know a lot of rugby players who will be very excited for any other results."
"And plenty of grandmas and grandpas," I added, and seeing Ben flinch a little, I knew that someone in his family was suffering from some sort of dementia.
"Yeah, yeah, them too," Ben agreed. "Let's hope this silly legal stuff gets cleared up quickly so you can get back to the important things, eh?"
"I hope so too," I said with a nod.
The two of us spent a few more minutes talking about different topics, such as other stupid customers doing stupid things with my products, and what sort of movies we were looking forward to seeing this coming summer.
But, eventually, our time together drew to a close, and Big Ben made a gesture at me, then at the people in the sound booth.
"Damn, man, it's been real, but we're almost out of time," Ben said. "Before we go, Mr. Rose, is there anything you want to say?"
"Two things, Ben: First… I really enjoyed that iced tea you got me when arrived. I would really like the recipe," I replied with a tiny amused grin. "Second, is that this isn't the end. It's just a setback. I'll be bouncing back and better than ever sooner or later."
"How confident," Ben chuckled. "And I'm afraid Stacy has never told anyone her secrets to making the best iced tea in England."
"Darn," I said in mock disappointment. "I suppose I'll just have to console myself with my fabulous wealth."
Ben snorted at that. "Well, you heard it here, folks! Despite the opposition facing Mr. Rose, he's not surrendering, and is getting ready to make the comeback of the century! Thank you for being here today, Mr. Rose!"
"No problem, Big Ben, I enjoyed it a lot," I replied.
And with that, the interview was over. There was a bit more to do, but I wasn't going to be involved as the radio station did some edits and prepared to slot it into upcoming airtime.
When it was time for me to leave, Ben shook my hand, but pulled me off to the side for a quiet, private conversation.
"So, that thing about a cure for Alzheimer's…" he began.
"Yes, it's true," I told him. "I wouldn't lie about something like that."
Indeed, I'd been working on a way to create something to cure the human brain of its ills for a while, now, and I had high hopes that Merula Snyde would be able to create something using her knowledge of the forbidden Mind Potion.
Of course, it was slow going, as the brain was easily the least understood organ in the human body. Not even magic could know all of its secrets. The mind was fragile, but I had a feeling that in a couple years I'd have a way to slow or even halt the degradation of the think-meats.
"I see," Ben said slowly. "I see."
He then nodded. "Well, you've got my support, Mr. Rose. I'm rooting for you."
"You can call me 'Ed' if you," I replied. "It feels weird to be called 'Mr. Rose' so much. Like I said, I'm only 19. Makes me seem old."
"Sure thing, Ed," Ben chuckled. "Well, again, good luck."
"Thank you," I replied, and with that, I knew I'd found a new ally. Who knew where this might lead? But any ally was a good one, especially those in the media.
'Now, to see what Sir Briar's reaction will be?' I thought to myself as I got into my car. I was very interested to find out!
111 &&& 111
It wasn't all fun and games for me. Oh, sure, I had fun spending time doing interviews and sharing my side of the story, but in between these moments I had plenty of less pleasant tasks.
Not just paperwork, though that did take up a significant portion of my time (when I wasn't doing homework and preparing to graduate from university next year). There were
And, of course, speeches to make.
"…and to address the rumors about cutting benefits or letting some of the workers go, no there is no truth to any of that," I said, having repeated this same speech a couple times already with my other enterprises.
Some employees had been getting antsy and worried as the lawsuits piled in, and I'll admit, I sorta forgot about them and their morale when putting together my plan. So now I was scrambling to calm them down and assure everybody that no, I wasn't going to be firing anybody or taking away the end-of-year bonuses.
I looked out at the truck drivers and other workers of Citrine Services, the waste disposal business the last one I had to handle. A couple people remained skeptical, but relief was present on a majority of faces.
"Now that that matter is out of the way, onto other things," I continued, clapping my hands to get their attention again. "So, it has come to my attention that some people are using the 'repair' functions here, and then taking items home with them."
Several feet shuffled nervously, and a couple awkward coughs rang out. I couldn't blame them, really. People threw out lots of stuff that was barely damaged and still usable. And the Reparo talismans could fix up a lot of the superficial damage, as well as internal issues.
"To be clear, I don't mind if you do this," I informed them, much to their relief. "The repair shop is supposed to fix things up, after all. Just make note of the usage of the items, okay? We're running out of 'repairs' because people would try and sneak them out and not record them when they'd be used."
"Another thing I wanted to remind everyone about is to stay away from the 'recycling' pit when it is in use. Smithson fell in last week and nearly got 'recycled' so keep your distance! We'll be installing guard rails around the pit so this doesn't happen again!" I said, and the garbage man in question blushed at being called out for his mistake.
"Alright! Any questions?" I inquired, looking around the assembled workers.
"There's a bunch o' rats making a nest in the cafeteria!" somebody called out.
"Not a question, but thank you for letting me know, I will deal with it promptly," I promised. "Anything else?"
"When are we getting new trucks?" somebody inquired. "We're doing our best but the hauling is slowing down! We need more vehicles for the new routes!"
"That issue is known, and if things go well, we should have eight new garbage trucks by the end of April," I told him.
"Is there a way we can get more parking?" another person wondered.
"I will look into it," I said. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem, though."
This went on for a bit longer, but eventually I answered their questions and satisfied their curiosity, and met up with Mark in his office at the recycling plant.
"Well done keeping things on track while we've been dealing with the suits, Mark," I said, pleased by how smoothly the operations were running.
"No worries, boss, here ta help," Marky Fetters replied. "And thanks for letting the guys go dumpster diving."
"Hey, if they want an old couch or TV and don't want to pay for it, they can have it," I shrugged. "Not like we lose anything by not recycling the items. Not when we have literal tons of trash still coming in for processing."
"True. Still, it means a lot to the blokes," Mark said. "Though, uh, speaking of 'recycling…'"
"Yes?"
"We might have a problem," he said. "With, uh, some of the other Squibs on the payroll."
"What happened?" I pressed, feeling concerned.
"They noticed I don't need to use my blood to activate the alchemical stuff," he informed me, and I frowned.
"Should have expected that," I muttered to myself, before returning my attention to Mark. "What have you told them?"
"Nothing. I've deflected and waffled. But they ain't idiots, boss. They know something is up and they're getting pushy," he warned.
"Hm. I better deal with that," I hummed. "Actually… what do you think I should do, Mark? Should I let them take part in the ritual, like you did?"
"Part of me wants to say 'no,'" the night club owner admitted. "They haven't earned it yet."
He then sighed. "But at the same time, I know that they won't stop pushing. Plus… they're Squibs. Like us, boss. Don't they deserve their birthright, too?"
"A lot of good points," I murmured. "In that case… I will tell them about the ritual. But only after they sign another contract with Oath Binding Ink. Having the other Squibs know about it will motivate them and cement their loyalty even further… and I do need more experimental subjects to see how far away a person needs to be for the ritual to work."
If I wanted to change every person in the world into a mage, I first had to find a perfect vector for it. And while I had a feeling the Leylines would be key, I still needed to see what else I could do.
"I'll tell 'em you want to speak with 'em, then," Mark said.
"Just let me get the ink ready, first," I requested. "And while I'm at it, I'll make enough for all of the Squibs in my employ."
"Alright. Let me know when you can do it. And, uh, try to do it soon? Not sure how much longer I can keep them from asking more pointed questions," Mark warned, miming a stabbing gesturing.
I winced, not liking that at all, before coughing nervously. "Yeah, I better put in a rush order with Merula."
Mark nodded at me. We went over a few more things, before I had to leave. There were things I needed to do.
'Including letting my Potion's Mistress know she'll need to whip up a new cauldron of Oath Binding Ink,' I thought as I left the recycling center. No rest for the wicked, or the good.
Chapter 81: Chapter 81: Rituals and Birthdays
Chapter Text
Chapter 81: Rituals and Birthdays
"What do you think this is about?"
"Dunno. I was just told to come here."
"Did you have to sign an NDA, too?"
"Of course."
"Then it's probably about magic."
"Think it's about whatever happened to Fetters?"
"Could be. Fetters can suddenly use runes and the talisman thingys without having to cut himself? Something is definitely up."
"I hope it's not about the company going under. This is the best job I've ever managed to get my hands on!"
"Yeah, I was barely getting by before I got hired. And I get to work with potions again, too, which is nice. I missed this after I was… thrown out."
"Your parents tried to see if you could brew potions, but when you could barely do that they kicked you outta the house?"
"Yup."
"Damn. Same."
"I barely knew my parents. Ditched me on some orphanage's doorsteps when I was just two. Got to say, I'm starting to think I was one of the lucky ones, not having to grow up around such bloody arses."
"Oh, totally. Mum was a slag who married for money and never hid the fact I was a stain on the family for being born like I was. Almost relieved to be kicked out when I was fourteen."
I lurked in the shadows, watching and listening as the seventy-nine people in the building chatted with each other, an anxious, nervous energy in the air.
All of them were Squibs that I'd hired, and who worked in the various businesses I owned. Thirty-four worked in the potion warehouses, eighteen were part of the recycling center crew, twenty were part of the Rune Department, the group that was working on applying runes to different objects and researching new ways to use them, and seven were part of the shipping company.
With Mark and myself, there were eighty-one Squibs in my employ, and that was, from what I'd been able to gather, a significant chunk of the Squibs in the country.
It didn't seem like a lot, and really, there were maybe around three hundred more Squibs across the UK, but when you took into account the number of mages, it was a worrying number.
Nearly four hundred people were Squibs out of a population of ten thousand or so magicals. About four percent of the total magical population! That was utterly insane, especially considering that the numbers of Squibs being born to Purebloods was rising rapidly, and that the actual data was likely skewed because so many of us had been brutally murdered during Voldemort's reign of terror. Wasn't just Muggles he and his death-suckers had gone after.
I glanced at Mark, who was also listening in with an amused smirk on his face. He shot me a thumbs up, and I rolled my eyes before taking the talisman on my chest and tearing it.
Immediately, the Notice-Me-Not charm I'd been under vanished, and I strode to the front of the room, people now able to see me.
Some jumped in surprise, others whispered even louder, but when I reached the podium and stepped up onto it, I smiled at the crowd.
"Hello, everyone. I'm glad to see you all here today," I said. Every one of the Squibs working for me had agreed to sign the contract and was here. It was insane, and I was touched by their trust in me.
'Or perhaps it is their curiosity that drives them,' I mused, before dismissing the thought. It didn't matter. They were here, and that was the important part.
"Now, I'm well aware you all are wondering why you're here. In fact, I've heard quite a few rumors about the reason," I continued. "And I can confirm that it is indeed about Mark Fetter's recent… changes. Come on up here, Mark."
The night club owner, manager of my recycling center, and underworld contact tore his own obfuscation Ofuda and walked up to join me.
I handed him another Ofuda, this one containing a simple Lumos. He held it up, and with a flex of his mind and magic, it crumpled up and turned into a ball of light.
The people in the room stared, and I grinned at their shock. Then, I held up an Ofuda of my own, and activated it. This one was a Nox spell, and it wrapped around the Lumos orb, turned black, and extinguished it, the two pieces of paper falling to the ground, inert, the magic-infused ink burnt away.
"Yes. We both are able to use the talismans without having to sacrifice our blood or a potion, as was once necessary," I told them, enjoying the utter disbelief on their faces.
"How?" somebody asked.
"Please don't speak up without permission," I said. "And I will explain everything."
I drummed a finger on the podium as I swept my gaze over the gathered Squibs. "Two years ago, I went to France. There, I met Nicholas Flamel and his wife. While there, they took a liking to me, and taught me many thing. Including some interesting truths. One of which being they, themselves, were Squibs."
That brought a wave of awed mutterings from the listeners. Everyone knew the legendary alchemist. And to hear he too had been a Squib? It was hard to imagine.
"One of the other things they taught me was a ritual. One they themselves had created," I went on. "A ritual… to turn Squibs and Muggles into Witches and Wizards."
This time, the silence was deafening. You could hear a pin drop, and the fly buzzing in one of the corners was the loudest thing in the room. And then, it exploded with noise as the Squib began to shout, scream, and demand answers.
"ZIP IT!" Mark shouted. "Calm yer tits everyone!"
"You have a way to give us magic?!" somebody shrieked. "And you kept it from us?!"
"How did you do it?!"
"Does it work on anybody?!"
I tried to get back on track, but my voice was overpowered by everyone elses. I held back the urge to sigh and roll my eyes, and used a Silencing Ofuda, the room descending into blissful silence, I continued.
"Thank you for being so calm about this," I drawled sarcastically. "And yes, I have a ritual. I can recreate it, and I have done so for a few people already. However, there are caveats. It's not perfect."
I held up a finger. "For one, an adult Squib with this ritual being done on them cannot use wands or other foci to perform active magic. We can only use runes and pre-made magical artifacts and rituals, such as the talismans and enchanted objects. The reason for this isn't fully understood, but as best as can be determined, we're too old to take advantage of it. A Squib would have to be young, very young, to actually be able to use a wand for spells after receiving the ritual."
A second finger rose. "Another thing that must be understood is that while you gain access to magic through the ritual, it is limited and takes a few weeks for the magical energy to fill you, so you can't use it right away."
People looked like they still had questions, but the Silencing spell made them keep ahold of their tongues, and I nodded, pleased by their restraint, and raised a third finger.
"Now, you will have some benefits once fully infused with magic. Namely, using items, wards, and rituals without needing to use your own blood or some other magical source to jumpstart it. And your bodies will become hardier and healthier than a Muggle or Squib. Indeed, it seems that even though we cannot use magic actively, our passive magic supports our body, making us even more durable and resistant to damage, with our natural healing also growing by leaps and bounds."
This was a fact I'd only discovered by accident after getting a nasty cut from a kitchen knife. It had started healing in front of my eyes, and an hour later, it was completely gone without needing Wiggenweld potions or creams to speed up the healing process.
I healed faster now, much faster than even Harry, Sirius, or Remus could with similar injuries. And my strength… I was physically stronger. At least twice as much compared to before. Stamina was nothing to sneeze at, either.
Mages were already a lot more durable than regular folk, but now, Magi-Squib (I needed a better way to call Squibs and Muggles who'd gone through the ritual) like Mark and I were significantly better than that.
'Likely due to the magic having nowhere else to go, so it's passively reinforcing our bodies,' I thought to myself.
The information stunned the assembled Squibs, and I repressed a grin before raising a fourth finger.
"Now, the final thing to keep in mind is the cost. The ingredients necessary for the ritual are bit expensive. Dragon's blood isn't cheap, same with some of the other materials." Disappointment flashed across their faces, and I decided to cheer them up a bit.
"However, I have been working on improving the ritual and tuning it up, so to speak. I should be able to have the ritual affect more people at once. Though I can promise you this: all of you here will have the opportunity to go through with the ritual. You will be able to have magic."
This caused them all to perk up, and I didn't bother to hide the smile that crossed my face. Then, I tore the Silencing Ofuda, allowing noise to return to the room. "I will now answer questions. One at a time, though! And only speak when I point to you!"
Seeing that they were following my instructions and raising hands, I pointed at a middle-aged woman.
"If we become witches, what about our children?" she asked. "My daughter is a Muggle, she has no magic."
"The ritual does affect Muggles. But I am not planning on using the ritual on too many Muggles just yet. If you want to have your family members obtain magic, you'll need to wait for the ritual to be improved. However, any children you have after the ritual will have the same chance of becoming a mage as any other naturally born magical person conceiving a child," I told her, before turning to another person.
"How does the ritual work?" the man asked. He had greying hair and a stubbly beard.
"Nicholas Flamel discovered the gene that determines Squibhood. To be more precise, he discovered what gene determines whether a person is born a mage, and devised a potent transmutation ritual that is designed to change the DNA of a person to contain that particular gene. Squibs have this gene, but it is non-functional for whatever reason," I explained.
"Won't people notice if a bunch of Squibs suddenly get magic?" a younger man asked when I pointed at him next.
"Possibly. But there won't be any major outward changes. Perhaps you might unlock a latent magical ability, like a Metamorphmagi skill, though that is unknown if it's possible. We certainly haven't encountered something like that yet. But anyways, Squibs still won't be able to use wands, and I think we all know that the magical folk don't exactly see other forms of magic as anything worthy of note."
Some heads nodded in agreement. For European witches and wizards, magic was determined by the ability to use a wand, and nothing else. It didn't matter if they could suddenly use runes better or make potions easier. If you couldn't waggle a stick and make a chicken turn into a feather duster, what was the point?
"Then, are we all going to get the chance to undergo this ritual?" another person inquired.
"Yes. You will, of course, have to sign a second contract beforehand and consent to undergoing a few medical evaluations to make sure nothing goes wrong with you, but that's all. Before that, if you're interested, you'll be put on a waiting list that may take a few years to get through due to all the reasons I mentioned earlier," I explained.
There were a few more questions, and I answered them as best I could. Most were easy, but a couple stumped me.
"No, the ritual cannot give you bigger pecker. I don't think we're going to create a ritual to do so, either," I said, giving the man who'd asked that a disappointed look.
"Are there any other questions? Ones that aren't as ridiculous?" I inquired, and a couple hands went down. "Alright. Guess that's that."
I clapped my hands, pleased by how many of them looked to be eager and excited by what I was offering. A couple were disappointed it wasn't full wand-waving magical power, but they'd take what they could get.
'And I might have to make a few extra stipulations in the contract to make allowances for sudden inheritances,' I thought idly.
So many magical families got wiped out in both magical wars that odds were pretty high that some of the Squibs here were the last of their respective families, and could be set to be restored after they gained magic.
The goblins kept close track of everything to do with the money, and if an heir to a dead family appeared, they would know as one of their precious vaults would suddenly activate after being closed for a while. They wouldn't like that, as dead vaults belonged to the Goblin Nation according to the (very stupid) treaties that had granted them control over the wealth of Magical Britain and Europe and they wouldn't want to have to hand it back over.
Investigations would be made, and if they discovered there was a way for Squibs to obtain what had been lost to them for so long, well, there would be problems.
'But that is Future Ed's problem to deal with, not mine,' I thought. Future-Me wouldn't be happy, but he could suck it.
'Lousy future-me. Hasn't invented Time Travel yet to warn me about anything pitfalls or dangers that might be coming soon,' I huffed.
Some time later the meeting was done, and I was free. I held back a yawn as I turned to Mark and shook his hand.
"Good work," I told him. "Keep it up. And keep your ear to ground."
"Can do, boss," he replied. "Thanks for this. Lotta hope got rekindled with this."
"Just doing what I gotta do. Squibs gotta Squib together," I replied, and he nodded seriously.
"Damn straight," he agreed.
We soon parted ways, and I had Inky pop me back to the office. I still had things to do.
111 &&& 111
"Happy Birthday, Ed!" Delilah said, giving me a peck on the cheek as I opened my apartment door. She was dressed simply in jeans and a light jacket, but if one looked closer, they were all designer brands worth ten times the amount of a normal outfit.
"Thanks," I said happily, returning the kiss. "Ready to go?"
"Sure am!" she said eagerly. "I can't wait for you to show me around!"
"Alrighty, then. Grab on," I said, offering her my arm. She took it, and then, when I held out a handkerchief embroidered with red diamonds, she placed her hand on it.
"We're not in Kansas anymore," I said with a grin, and then, with a pop, we were no longer in my London flat, but a lush garden that was in full bloom with spring flowers.
"Welcome to my little home away from home in New Orleans," I said, waving a hand around the garden.
Yes, that was right, we were across the pond in the USA for a bit of a birthday dinner. Well, technically, it'd be lunch since it was ten in the morning here right now. New Orleans was six hours behind the UK, but we were still looking forward to it all the same.
"So, this is your new place?" she asked, looking around the garden, before examining the manor it was connected to.
"It is," I said with a nod, tucking the Portkey away into a pocket. "Let me show you around."
We wandered through the garden paths for a bit. I showed her the ponds as well as the greenhouses where the more exotic and magical plants were grown, before heading to the manor. The doors swung open when we got closer, revealing a young, bespectacled blonde woman in a proper French maid's outfit.
"Welcome, Master Rose," Carlotta, the head maid-slash-secretary for the former Flamel estate, said in greeting as we approached the back doors of the mansion.
"Morning," I said. "This is Delilah. Though you likely already know that."
"Yes, we know," Carlotta replied, coolly appraising my girlfriend. "We know all of your associates."
I snorted at that, and Delilah giggled. "I like her," she said. "Reminds me of mother's head of staff."
"That the one who threatened me with a potato peeler if I ever made you cry?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes," she said with a grin, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I led her inside.
"It's a nice mansion," Delilah commented as I showed off the interior. "Wouldn't be out of place as a house I'd go to for a party back home in London."
"I probably won't be having too many house parties here, if only because it'd be tricky to get all of the guests here without revealing magic to them."
"Yes, such a shame," Delilah hummed. "I suppose you'll have to settle for that penthouse suite you're working on."
"That should be finished before September," I told her. "The dwarves do good work. Fast and efficient."
"That is fast," she hummed. "I'd have expected renovations for an entire apartment complex to take quite a bit longer."
"Well, the dwarves don't exactly have a lot of other business contracts right now, so they can spare the extra hands," I said with a shrug. "Anyways, I want to show you the dinosaur bones."
Seeing her face lit up in glee as she examined the massive collection of fossils the Flamels had collected over the years was truly staggering. They had been a major force in the world of archeology for centuries. Partly due to being interested in it, but also to keep certain fossils out of the hands of mundane scholars. They didn't need to stumble across dragon bones, after all.
After she'd toured the private museum and been shown the arcade and home theater, we left the house for a trip into New Orleans. We had the chauffeur drive us around, and toured a few of the sites visitors were always encouraged to visit. In general, we enjoyed having the day to ourselves without worrying about kidnappers and assassins.
When we were done, it was almost two in the afternoon local time, and we headed back to the estate for a hearty meal of authentic Louisiana gumbo made by Jumbo, the Ruby Manor's chef.
"That was delicious!" she said, thanking him as the dishes were removed by Song and Aoi, the other two maids.
"He's very good," I agreed.
"Always glad to hear compliments," Jumbo chuckled. "So, when are we gonna see that kid again?"
"Harry's busy at school, but he will come over when he gets a chance. I'll make sure of it," I promised.
"We saw what he did in the papers," Song, the Kumiho, said with sparkling eyes. "Did he really summon a spirit of yore around Christmas?"
"Didn't know that information had reached this far," I muttered.
"Of course it would, master," Aoi, the Yuki-Onna, said. "Magical Britain may be backwards as a cat going the wrong way, but news of a genuine spirit summoning – the first in over a century! – would end up being spread around."
"First he killed a Basilisk, then called up a spirit," Delilah muttered. "And in his first year he confronted Quirrelmort. What's in store for him next year?"
I snorted at her use of the possessed teacher's nickname, but eventually overcame my mirth.
"Nothing, if I have anything to say about it," I replied. Sirius, Remus, and I had… plans for curtailing anything that might happen during his 4th Year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
"That's a relief," Delilah said. "Honestly, the more I hear about Hogwarts, the more I think it was a relief I wasn't born a witch."
"Probably," I agreed. "It will need serious reforms to be considered up to par with modern educational matters."
"Well, I'm sure you also have plans for that," Delilah teased, and I smirked right back at her. She then gained a look of curiosity. "Speaking of plans, what about Sir Briar? How have things been going on that front?"
"It's going well," I said, politely ignoring how the rest of the household discreetly began listening in. "I'm down seventeen percent stock-wise, and I've had to sell some things to 'break even.'"
"That sounds like things are going poorly," she noted.
"They are. But that's the point, isn't it?" I assured her. "I give it another fortnight before Sir Briar approaches me. And then, the stage will be set for step two."
The illusion of weakness I'd woven was complete, mostly because it wasn't really an illusion. I was losing money, and fast.
Officially, and based on public records available to the mundane factions working against me, I could hold out for another three months assuming nothing changed, for better or worse. In truth, it was closer to two years thanks to my 'secret' accounts with Gringotts and the fact that most of my ingredients and resources came from the magical side, which had significantly cheaper prices in comparison.
My enemies would circle, thinking me to be weak, only to discover I was merely using the blood as bait.
"Now, enough business talk! Jumbo said something about beignets for dessert, and I adored the ones he made last time I was here!"
111 &&& 111
"That was quick," I murmured, looking at two things as I sat at my dining room table. It was rather late and I should have been getting ready for bed by now, but I had important work to do.
One of the items I was looking at was a series of documents detailing my current financial situation, at least in regards to Avalon Industries. Thanks to some… reckless spending and unwise decisions, stocks had tanked across the board. I didn't exactly have a lot in the first place, being so new, but it was clear investors were spooked by so many whammies hitting me all at once.
On the other hand, my PR blitz had shifted public perception just as I'd hoped. People loved me, or at least they hated the idea of the big, bad government stepping on a self-made man. I was trending well, and the highly publicized legal cases were making my name well-known in London.
Next to the documents was a single letter, delivered by hand by a man in an expensive suit who'd worn a very smug and condescending smile. It contained exactly what I had thought it would: an offer from Sir Briar for a 'meeting' with me to discuss 'the future path my business with Gladstone Financial should take.'
I knew what it really was: a 'generous' offer to take control of my companies in exchange for getting all of the problems currently plaguing me to disappear.
It had also been delivered this evening, on April Fool's Day, officially my twentieth birthday in the mundane world, right after Delilah left the apartment.
'I should have expected something as petty as this from him,' I thought to myself. Yes, dropping this in my lap not only when I was supposedly at my lowest but on a day I should be celebrating another year was like a one-two punch.
Were I naïve and unaware of the schemes happening the dark, I would have considered it a birthday wish come true to have all of my problems taken care of my somebody who was, ostensibly, on my side.
Yet I wasn't a fool, despite the day of my birth, and I knew exactly what he was doing.
'Though I have to admit I didn't expect this to happen so soon,' I thought to myself.
Bad as things were for me and my businesses, it wasn't actually nearly as dire as it seemed. I could easily hold out for another few months, no sweat. I just wanted to create the illusion of struggling, and he must have bought it wholesale.
'Sir Briar must have been spooked when I began talking with his business partner and rival, Mr. Hunt,' I mused. To help sell it and make it seem like I was doing badly, I'd asked Delilah to speak to her father and set up a few meetings with him so we could discuss 'business.'
Sir Briar must have been worried that I would take an offer from Mr. Hunt instead of himself. Not exactly wrong, either. In another world I might have swallowed my pride to ask my girlfriend's father for help had I no other choice.
The bitter old man couldn't allow that to happen, though, hence the invitation sent my way earlier than expected.
Or perhaps he'd been influenced by the radio interview I'd done with Big Ben? My claim of working on a cure for Alzheimer's, only for it to be put on the backburner by politics and dirty business… well, it had stirred up a shitstorm not even I'd expected.
I'd really underestimated how much the public would react. Nobody wanted their elderly relatives to suffer a slow, painful descent into dementia, sure, but the outpouring of support had caused over a dozen government officials involved in the 'investigations' into the allegations of tax evasion and zoning law violations to suddenly be 'reassigned' and a few were now being investigated themselves.
Half of the lawsuits against me were dropped as well. Lawyers were ditching clients and those who weren't were a lot more polite to my own legal teams, where before there had been sneering contempt.
The sheer speed of the turnaround after Big Ben's interview aired a couple days ago was astonishing to me, and I couldn't help but think that this had also influenced the bitter old man into reaching out to me sooner than he'd likely planned.
And, maybe, Sir Briar was also worried about losing out on a medicine that could potentially keep his mind razor sharp. He wasn't getting any younger, after all.
'Still, this was the whole point in the first place. Get Sir Briar to invite me over so I can get close enough to manipulate his mind,' I thought as I absentmindedly tapped on the desk. 'Well, no reason to keep waiting any longer. Time to finish this.'
I reached over to my phone, and patiently dialed in the number that had been included with Sir Briar's message.
"Ring… Ring… Ring… Click!"
"Mr. Rose. I was wondering when you would call."
"Hello, Mr. Briar," I said, suppressing a grin and trying to make my voice sound contrite and desperate. "I'm sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I'd like to talk about taking you up on that incredibly generous offer of yours."
"Of course, Mr. Rose," the old man said, and I could hear the barely smugness in his tone. "I am truly sorry that it had to come to this."
"Thank you," I breathed out, stifling my own smirk. "When should we meet?"
"I can make time tomorrow evening… if that works for you?"
"Yes! Absolutely!" I replied. "Thank you, again, Sir Briar! You've truly made this a wonderful birthday!"
"Anything for my business partner," Sir Briar said, before hanging up on me.
Once the call was over, I put the phone back into the cradle and smiled happily. I recognized the way he'd hung up before me as a common power play tactic, to show who had control in the situation. I didn't mind. Everything I wanted was achieved.
"Seems like I have a dinner party to prepare for," I said aloud to myself, not bothering to hide my satisfaction.
Tomorrow, I would be in control of my destiny once more.
Chapter 82: Chapter 82: Roses have Thorns
Chapter Text
Chapter 82: Roses have Thorns
'Alright, everything is in place and in order,' I thought to myself as I checked myself out in the mirror. Yes. Everything was ready. My tie was in place, and my rings were on my fingers. I was going to succeed tonight.
I left my apartment and got into my car, and drove towards my destination at five p.m. sharp.
At five forty-six p.m. on Saturday, April 2nd, 1994, I stepped out of my car having arrived at my destination, and handed the keys to the valet.
At five forty-eight p.m. I straightened my tie and rang the doorbell of the opulent Byronic Apartment Complex within Knightsbridge, one of the most affluent districts within London.
At five fifty-one p.m., the door to the complex opened, and I was allowed in by a plains cloth security guard, before being escorted to an elevator.
At five fifty-four p.m. I left the elevator, stepping out onto the top floor of the building, where the most exclusive and expensive penthouse suite was located. As I left, I was greeted by two more security guards, these in black suit and tie with sunglasses on. Very stereotypical. I approved.
At exactly six p.m., after being thoroughly patted down and vetted by the guards, I was finally allowed entry into the personal apartment of Sir Jonah Briar, the head of Gladstone Financial and my most important business partner and patron. And, the man who had gone too far.
"Welcome, Mr. Rose," the wizened voice of my nemesis said in greeting as I stepped through the doorway. "Right on time."
"Punctuality is not to be praised. It is the least I can do, especially when meeting with a man such as yourself," I replied, and he nodded at my 'sage' words.
"Yes. Too many in your generation are lazy. That you show some modicum of understanding that time is money puts you above the rest," he said, delivering the backhanded compliment as if it were some wisdom I desperately needed.
"You're right, of course," I nodded back. "I do apologize, though. I know guests are expected to bring wine, but I wasn't sure if your minders would allow a bottle through without it being checked first. Instead, all I can offer you are these."
I took an envelope from my pocket, and handed it over. Not to Sir Briar, but to his henchman standing nearby. Said minion took it, opened it, and read the contents, before passing it over to the ancient man.
"I suppose this will do," Sir Briar said, feigning indifference, but I knew he was giddy with glee based on the glint in his eyes.
And why wouldn't he be? After all, I'd just handed him signed documents confirming he was now the majority owner of Cauldron Remedies' shares, and owner of a full twenty percent of Avalon Industries.
I'd signed over everything he wanted from me, and in his mind, he'd won whatever shadow war we'd been fighting.
"Shall we adjourn to the dining room?" Sir Briar inquired as he handed the envelope over to his manservant.
"I would be delighted," I replied, and was led into a finely appointed table with a long dinner table set out for two people. I took my seat, as there was only one chair, while Sir Briar was wheeled in to his spot.
"Do you have any wine preferences?" Sir Briar inquired.
"Perhaps some Champagne to celebrate?" I suggested, and he snapped his fingers, one of his servants making it so.
Drinks were soon served, along with a lobster bisque, and we made small talk. Then, the main course came after that, and it was time to discuss something I'd had on my mind for a while.
"So, how long have you known about magic, Sir Briar?" I wondered, causing him to raise an eyebrow and the servants to go still.
"Oh? What makes you think that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with feigned nonchalance.
"I think it's obvious," I replied. "You seem to be aware that my medical creams aren't natural. But you've never pushed to try and figure out the 'secret recipe' so to speak. Or rather, you did, and found they were completely ordinary materials. So, how could they work so well as they do?"
I tapped a finger on the table. "Now, most people wouldn't immediately assume it is magical. After all, who would believe in something like that? But then again, when there's no other answer, the impossible becomes more probable."
"Then there's the fact your rings are clearly enchanted," I continued, pointing my fork at his hands. "Yet you yourself are neither a mage nor Squib. So you know of it, but are not part of the world."
Sir Briar stared at me, then waved a hand to dismiss his servants. "You are sharp," he said. "Yes. I am aware of magic. Have been ever since my son's first birthday."
I blinked at that. He had a son?
"My wife, Eunice, was what she called a 'Squib,'" he continued, ignoring my reaction. "I only found out after little Peter began to display signs of magic. Small things. Cushions changing color. Milk bottles heating themselves."
"I see," I said slowly. "You were introduced to the magical world through your wife."
"Yes. Eunice… she was wonderful. Always trying to find the bright side of things," Sir Briar said. "And Peter… Peter was a ball of sunshine."
"…What happened?" I asked.
"War happened," he said. "Nazi fuckers. I was drafted. Royal Air Force. I was damned good, too! Shot down six of them in a single mission! But while I was gone… Eunice sent Peter to live with her parents."
The old man slammed his fist against the table. "They'd wanted nothing to do with her, kicking her out at fifteen because of her lack of magic, but the moment Peter revealed to have magic of his own, all they cared about was him, and 'continuing the family name.'"
He spat to the side. "To this day, I believe they tricked her. Forced her to hand over Peter to them for 'safe-keeping' while the Blitz was going on. They thought that their precious magic would keep them safe. It didn't."
I winced. Magical wards for protecting homes were all about misdirection. Muggle Repelling Wards, Unplottable Charms, and if there were any shields, they would cause solid objects to bounce off. Good for defending against a catapult, but not so great for a bomb.
"Yes. You know it. During the Blitz, the Nazis were dropping bombs indiscriminately all over London. What good is magic to make people avoid coming near if they are too high to even be affected by it? What use is a shield that protect against the bomb shell, but not the explosions?" Sir Briar asked darkly. "Nothing. Nothing at all. The blasts destroyed the house, and killed Peter and her parents. And the grief… it killed her. Slowly, painfully, over the months and years of the war and afterwards. We couldn't have any other children, either. Peter's birth had been difficult, and I took some lead poisoning from a Nazi too close to the lower parts. In the end… she died too young because of magic."
I wanted to say it hadn't been magic. It'd been assholes. But that wasn't the right thing to say, so I just nodded.
"My father tried to kill me," I admitted in the silence. It wasn't something I liked to talk about. "He got drunk, and beat me. All because I was a Squib. So… I killed him."
"I see," Sir Briar said. "Did you enjoy it?"
"A little," I admitted, revealing one of my darkest secrets. "I didn't want to do it… but I wasn't going to let him kill me for his stupid, worthless pride. And since then, I've been living in the Mundane world. Thrown out of the family, forced to live on my own. I took a few things with me. A recipe book, that contained the potions I've brewed. Experimented a bit, turned them into something anybody could use and make, and, well, here we are."
"You made the right choice," Sir Briar assured me. "Nobody would blame you."
"Some might," I muttered. "I have a younger brother, you know? He has magic. I don't. He… well, mother tried her best, but we'll never see eye to eye after the times he helped father do things to me. He doesn't know what I did. Mother suspects. But it doesn't matter. I've left the magical world behind. There's more here in the mundane for me."
Sir Briar nodded at my words. "Yes. I think, together, we can make your family regret… everything."
"I would like that, sir," I replied.
Dinner ended with a delightfully sticky toffee pudding, and then we adjourned to the old man's office. He was a lot more open and friendly with me, now. After we'd spilled our guts, there was definitely a sense of… not quite closeness, but rather, understanding.
Oh, his sad backstory didn't excuse what he'd done to me and to others. Kidnapping people to use as leverage was a few steps too far towards 'evil' to ever let me forgive or forget. But for tonight, I would tolerate him.
"Tell me, do you like whiskey?" he asked as he was brought over to his desk.
"For special occasions," I replied as I sat down across from him in a plush arm chair.
"Well! Our new business partnership certainly sounds like that!" Sir Briar said with a dusty cackle. "Benjamin, please get us some glasses. And pour us some of the good stuff!"
The man who'd wheeled Sir Briar into the room – and was likely a Squib, like the other staff members who'd reacted to my revelation of magic existing with wariness rather than shock – nodded his head and busied himself with playing bartender for his employer. While that happened, I spared a quick look around his office.
There were dozens of old books on a nearby shelf, and I recognized some of them as tomes of magic. Fake ones, of course. The sort written by wannabe alchemists and crazy people like John Dee who thought they could do magic, but weren't even Squibs.
'Although, John Dee was a Squib,' I thought to myself as I accepted the glass of whiskey from the servant before he was dismissed by Sir Briar. 'And some of his books did contain secrets of alchemy and some minor enchanting. Though it would take another Squib to actually do anything with them.'
I made a mental note to search through some more 'magical' books and search for Squib authors. If Nicholas Flamel could still be remembered in the mundane population despite the Statute of Secrecy Obliviating the entire planet, then others could have also had magical knowledge slip through the cracks.
Aside from the books, the study was filled with antiques. There was a dinosaur fossil, likely from one of Mary Anning's own digs, mounted on the wall, and his war medals were kept in a glass case next to a painting I think I saw in a museum in my last life. The desk Sir Briar sat behind was made of an old warship from the 1700s, the windows were drawn with velvet drapes taken from a Victorian era mansion, and there was a tall grandfather clock made by hand that was ticking away next to a cabinet full of expensive alcohol.
It was a display of wealth that was carefully made to be subtle, and only those in the know would appreciate. Quite simple, but effective. I said as much, which had Sir Briar nodding along at my words, pleased as punch that I could tell as well.
"You have a good eye," he praised while taking small sips of his drink. "Most do not appreciate the care I put into making sure everything is precisely the way it is. Feng Shui, the Orientals call it."
"I've heard of it," I confirmed. "I actually did a bit of research on it when I was trying to find a way to use magic without a wand. It requires a bit too much preparation to be useful short term, but it does have uses when given time to build up the energy."
"Oh? How so?" he inquired.
"Well, one of the problems of using Feng Shui for magical purposes is that you need access to Leylines or a Leyline Nexus," I explained, taking a sip of my own whiskey. "Then, you need to spend days if not weeks attuning the location to the specific energies of the Leylines and the different magical catalysts. The process can take a while as you need to be very careful with how you arrange the various objects in your domain. And, of course, Feng Shui isn't mobile. Once you put it down, it's like that forever unless you spend even more time and money resetting everything."
It had advantages, of course. Feng Shui could create powerful barriers and magical ward-like effects that rivaled the most advanced Western techniques, like the Fidelius, without needing to use Wardstones or vastly complex runic anchors. It was even capable of boosting the vitality of the inhabitants or bestowing luck-based effects to the owner of the site which Western ward magic cannot do.
Yet the downsides were just as numerous. It was finicky and very particular, for one. Make even a single mistake and it would create a cascading effect leading to bad outcomes. And once the Feng Shui was set up, it was difficult to change it to a new effect. Not to mention, if the site was damaged, or something messed up the Feng Shui, like moving a chair or rock to the wrong spot, then you could end up with a cursed location that would actively try to kill anyone who entered it.
There was a reason even modern Asian mages only used it on a small scale and preferred to rely on more stable Western style wards these days.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "I did some research myself, you know. Investigated Druids and Wiccans. Studied the old shamanistic rites. Hired Squibs and learned from them. Hardly anything worked for me. The most I got were tiny sparks and confirmation I would never be able to use magic myself as an ordinary person."
Sir Briar then sighed, and emptied the contents of his tumbler. "What a waste. To think, all I needed to acquire magic of my own was to wait and it would fall into my lap."
"Let me fix you another drink, Sir Briar," I offered, the ice cubes clicking in my own glass. "A man should never be bone dry."
"Yes, yes, very true!" Sir Briar chuckled, handing me his own empty tumbler.
I got up and headed over to the cabinet where all the bottles were kept. Opening it up, I made a show of browsing the options before selecting one of the nicer whiskeys in his collection.
As I grabbed the bottle and filled up his tumbler, I idly fiddled with one of my rings. It was an enchanted ring, with a small sapphire embedded in the top. However, the magic was inside the gem itself. Using a variation of the Expanded Space charm, I'd stored a vial's worth of a special potion inside the gemstone. By squeezing the gem, I could squirt the potion out. The two of us were currently alone, but that could change at any moment. Now was the best time to strike and complete my plan.
Yet, I hesitated. Was I really about to do this? I looked down at the whiskey glass, and time seemed to slow down. Didn't even need my Bullet Time ring, either.
I had always wanted to do things the right way. To be on the side of angels and help people without dirtying my hands too much. I couldn't delude myself into believe I would keep my hands blood-free forever. Certainly not after what had happened with Delilah's kidnappers several Christmas' ago. Or the way I'd dealt with my father. But there was a line I'd always told myself I wouldn't cross.
Yet here I was, about to poison a man's drink. And yes, 'poison' was the only word to describe it. What else would you call it when you were drugging somebody with the intent to manipulate their body and mind?
But Jonah Briar had crossed a line as well. He hadn't just gone after me, or Delilah. He had tried to kidnap Harry and Sam and went after their families, to boot! Two of the people that I cared most about in this world!
In his greed to obtain the secrets behind my 'medicine' he had been willing to harm the people I loved, and I was not willing to let him do that again, or get away with it. The law couldn't punish him. He was too rich and had covered his tracks too well. But magic could help me do what the law could not.
So, here I was. A bottle of extra-concentrated Compulsion Potion hidden on my person, ready to be added to his whiskey. And with it, he would never be able to hurt me again. Not with his will twisted and bent to my own.
Drinking the Compulsion Potion would force Sir Briar to obey every order I gave him. At least for a short while. But I had plans for when it wore off. Still, I hesitated.
My plans were accelerating faster than I'd expected, or even wanted to happen, but here I was. About to cross the line I'd always claimed I would never allow myself cross. All because I was afraid.
'Is this how it starts?' I wondered as I squeezed the sapphire on my ring, allowing the contents of the vial I'd magically hidden inside of the gem to fall into Jonah Briar's whiskey filled glass. 'Is this how men like Dumbledore and Grindelwald began their descent into tyranny? By trying to rationalize their evil?'
I could try and delude myself into thinking this was the best option. The only option. But it would be a lie, and I'd already told so many lies in this life, that I was afraid of lying to myself. Because that would lead to a never-ending downward spiral.
In the end, I was doing this for myself. Because I was selfish, petty, and above all else, afraid of being weak and alone again.
I brought Sir Briar his glass, and sat back down facing him with my own helping of amber colored spirits.
"You know, Mr. Rose, I hadn't expected you to know what to do," Sir Briar chuckled a he accepted his refilled glass. "The young people these days… they don't understand how the world works."
He waggled a finger at me. "You, though? You know how it is supposed to be."
"I'm honored," I replied. "Shall we make a toast, then?"
"Why not?" he shrugged.
"In that case… for the Greater Good," I said solemnly, raising my glass as I offered the man a toast, and he nodded back, amused by my choice of words.
"Yes, indeed. The Greater Good," he chuckled, before draining his drink.
The effect was almost instantaneous, and a few seconds after swallowing, his expression turned vacant.
"Sir Briar, please follow my commands from now on," I requested, and he nodded slowly, glassy-eyed and oblivious to the world around him. The Compulsion Potion was strong, but wouldn't last forever, and I needed to work fast while he was still in his susceptible state.
"For my first order! You will never again try to bring harm to myself, Edward Rose, Harry Potter and his family, Sam Parson and her family, Delilah Hunt and her family, any employee I've hired, or their families. Nod if you understand this order, and all future orders."
He did so, blankly obeying as his head bobbed up and down.
"For my second order! You will think fondly of me from now on! You will consider me to be your grandson in all but blood," I instructed him, and again his head bobbed.
There was a reason I was doing it like this. I wanted him to keep following my orders, even when the potion was no longer affecting him.
To make sure I could get away with this, I'd mixed a tiny bit of Forgetfulness Potion in with the Compulsion Potion, so when the latter's effects eventually faded, he would forget what had happened while under its influence.
Furthermore, mixing potions was always risky, and this particular combination was extremely dangerous and highly illegal.
Compulsion Potions were like weak, bottled Imperius Curses, so brewing them was already an illegal act. The main weakness of them was that whoever drank one would be forced to obey any orders given to them. That meant anybody could give the drinker instructions, and they would obey them immediately, new instructions overriding older commands.
Additionally, the drinker of a Compulsion Potion was still partially aware of what they were doing. Hence the need for some Forgetfulness Potion to make it all seem like it never happened. Otherwise, when the effect ran out, the compelled drinker would remember and thus be able to stop whatever they were doing and take revenge.
But adding a Forgetfulness Potion to a Compulsion Potion resulted in a very unique situation, where the person who was being compelled would enter an extremely deep receptive state where they would unconsciously want to keep doing any orders given to them, even after the magic ran out and the potion's influence ended.
The effect would be far, far weaker compared to the actual potion, and could be ignored, fought or shaken off, but it would always be there, lurking in the back of the mind. Because the human mind cannot truly forget anything. Not even with magic. Magic only made it harder to recall information. Locking it away, so to speak. But that knowledge is still there. It's why people who are Oblivated till nothing is left still retain the same personality and muscle memories.
The amount I'd given Sir Jonah Briar was enough to put him into this hypnotic trance for only a couple of minutes. So I had to make every second and every order count. And ensure that in the future, he would never try to do anything to me or my own ever again.
"My next order! Tomorrow, you will make me your heir, rewriting your will to include me in it," I instructed Sir Briar. "In your will, you will pass on to me the majority of your assets, including but not limited to your stock options, bonds, and any liquid assets, as well as name me your replacement on the various business boards you are part of."
"You will also stop trying to look into or steal my secrets and recipes. You will ensure nobody else tries to do so either, and inform me when you learn of such attempts," I continued, eyes darting to the grandfather clock as the minutes ticked down. Not much time left! I had to hurry!
"Last, but not least, you shall never mention what happened here in the past half-hour to anybody, not even me. If you understand and will comply with all of my instructions, then shake my hand!" I ordered, sticking my right hand out for him to shake.
Slowly, Jonah Briar reached out with his right hand. Was he fighting it? Or was it just his old aching joints acting up? I didn't know, and didn't care. As he shook my outstretched hand, I knew that I had done what I'd set out to do.
This old man was mine, forever more.
May God forgive me for what I have done.
Chapter 83: Chapter 83: Sirius Black, Dog of War (Part 1)
Chapter Text
Chapter 83: Sirius Black, Dog of War Part 1
Sirius POV
"Flight RA991 to Kigali International Airport is now boarding!" a pleasant young woman's voice called out over the speakers. "All passengers, please proceed to the gate and prepare your tickets!"
Hearing that, Sirius yawned and stretched before standing up and making his way through the London Heathrow airport towards his flight's gate, his carry-on backpack thrown over his shoulder.
He showed off his ticket to the lovely attendant was ushered to the First-class seats he'd booked for himself, smiling a little at her which caused the young woman to flush.
'Yup, I still got it!' he thought with amused satisfaction as he walked onto the aircraft.
Sirius mentally went over the information Ed had provided for him as he boarded the plane to Kigali, capital of Rwanda.
Based on what he'd seen in his 'visions', Ed had said that the genocide would begin early in the morning on April 7th, following the assassination of Rwandan president, Juvénal Habyarimana the day before when his plane would be shot down.
The odds of it being a plot orchestrated by Hutu extremists was high, according to Ed. After all, Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana, the next in line, was murdered in her home along with her husband and ten Belgian guards by the so-called Presidential Guard almost immediately afterwards. And the Presidential Guard were under the authority of Colonel Théoneste Bagosora, head of Rwanda's military.
And, considering he would immediately take control of the government under the guise of heading the 'Crisis Committee,' it was obvious to anyone with a brain that the colonel had his fingers in this entire scheme. He might not have given the order to shoot down the president's plane, but he had taken advantage of it.
Worse, though, were the atrocities that would be committed by the Rwandan Army under the colonel's orders. Rape and murder would affect nearly a million innocent people according to Ed.
The plan, then, was simple: infiltrate the Prime Minister's protection detail and protect her, keeping her alive and help her take control of the country. Unfortunately, they couldn't stop the assassination of the president.
Partly because they had no idea where the shooting would take place, or where the weapons used to do so would be hidden. But also because the president was partly responsible for delaying and enacting certain laws which exacerbated the racial tensions in the country. Better to have him die as fate intended, or so Ed claimed.
Sirius wasn't exactly a fan of that idea, but he agreed that they couldn't really scour the entire country searching for the anti-aircraft missiles. Not without advanced Divination at least, and the only one in their group who could pull something like that off would be Ed and his rune-bones. Protecting the prime minister was, logically, the easiest thing to do since her location was known and it could be fortified with wards and enchantments.
The possibility that rogue African witches and wizards were involved in the uprising was also unfortunately quite high. Ed hadn't seen any in his visions, but with the state of Africa and the way certain Muggleborn mages in the continent had begun acting, it was quite likely he'd end up fighting a few who wanted to take advantage of the chaos that would arise in Rwanda.
As he waited for the plane to take off, Sirius decided to get some more reading done. There was a lot of complicated history lessons on why the genocide would even happen, and Ed had made sure he had a book's worth of information to go over so he understood the situation on the ground.
'Jeez, the situation is a lot trickier than I thought,' Sirius grunted as he read the history docket Ed had compiled for him on Rwanda's history.
Three tribes had once lived in the region now known as Rwanda: Tutsi, Hutu, and Twa. The Tutsi had been the dominant ethnic group, led by the Tutsi monarchy which took over in the mid-18th century, and then were supported by Germany and Belgium during the Scramble for Africa in the 19th and 20th Century. But then the Hutu tribe took over after World War 2, which led to many Tutsi becoming exiles and refugees in neighboring countries.
Now, it was clear that both Tutsi and Hutu had problems. Neither group was without fault. The Tutsi monarchy had forced the Hutu into subservient roles, stole land from them, then sold it back to them in exchange for labor and other things. The Tutsi had also crushed rebels with help from European armies.
But on the other hand, the Hutu had seized power over the country through riots and arson against Tutsi homes due to false rumors and fear mongering. They then drove the Tutsi king out using Belgian aide, who'd sided with the Hutu due to sympathies for their downtrodden and oppressed nature. Ever since, it was the Hutu on top, and they simply repeated what was done to them upon the Tutsi leading to, guess what! More political and racial tension throughout the country.
The dossier also included information on Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana, though it was a bit more limited, but still contained plenty of useful facts. She was the first female Prime Minister of Rwanda and while a Hutu was a firm moderate. When she'd been the Minister of Education she'd done away with certain racial quotas and let pure merit determine who should get spots for scholarships. This made the Hutu hardliners and extremists furious with her, because they had benefited the most from the crooked educational quotas.
She also had quite a bit of antagonism with President Juvénal Habyarimana, neither liking the other. He'd even tried to get her to resign from her post, but she'd been kept in her position by the combined efforts of the cabinet and the political parties.
But there were other, external pressures on the country that were exacerbating the issues. Neighboring countries were suffering from an influx of Tutsi refugees who'd fled Hutu reprisals in Rwanda, which naturally made them unhappy with the Rwandan government.
Of course, there were a lot of problems that'd been created when the Belgians withdrew from the area. Plenty of industries in the country were also trying to play catch up with the rest of the First World nations, but a lot of it was still focused on a semi-agrarian, cash crop-based economy. Plenty of coffee, tea, and sugar was grown in Rwanda, but it was a fragile system leftover from the colonial days that would absolutely collapse if conflict broke out, bringing economic ruin to the country.
'Really seems like a lot of problems can be traced back to Belgium and Europe in general,' Sirius mused, disquieted by the sheer amount of information Ed had gathered on the troubles plaguing the tiny country. 'And not just in Africa.'
Though thinking about Ed's help caused Sirius to wonder about what the heck he was. It was obvious to the Animagus that the eldest son of Erroneous Hunch was not a Seer. What he had was too clear-sighted. But Sirius had no idea about what else it could be. Time travel? No, the only known method was the Time-Turners, and those only went back 72 hours at most and couldn't alter the past or future.
He'd searched the Black library for weeks trying to uncover something that could explain it, and the only hint was a brief mention of 'Those Chosen by Death could do many things beyond the ken of mortal mages,' in an ancestral journal talking about the Deathly Hallows. Sirius dismissed it, though. The idea that Ed had discovered one of the mythical artifacts was laughable.
'Honestly, it's more likely that Harry's Invisibility Cloak is one of the Deathly Hallows,' Sirius snorted to himself. 'I mean, it hasn't faded since its time with James, and that was decades ago… and even the best Invisibility Cloaks only last two decades at most…'
Sirius quickly shook his head, trying to get that crazy notion out of his brain. Harry, having a Deathly Hallow? No way! Sure, he may have asked to borrow the cloak during his trip to Africa, and when he got it from Hedwig it was still as powerful as it'd been when he'd last seen it as a kid doing pranks with the Marauders… but it wasn't a damned legendary artifact forged by Death itself! The very idea!
'I wonder how Ed is doing?' Sirius instead wondered to himself.
Hunch's boy had proven himself to be genuine in his desires to help, and repentant regarding the secrets he'd had and used behind their backs. Though the animagus was still a bit worried about the current situation. He'd heard that Ed had gotten a letter on his birthday from the very guy who'd been pressuring him, and wasn't sure what would happen.
It was why he'd offered to stick around a little bit longer in case he needed an extra wand while Remus was unavailable, but Ed had told Sirius that he'd be fine. And so, at seven-twenty in the morning on April 3rd, Sirius' flight took off and began the long trek to the capital of Rwanda in Africa.
One eight-and-a-half-hour-long flight later, and Sirius was finally at his destination. Stifling a yawn as he left, he winced a little at the heat. It was hotter in Rwanda than England, and he wasn't used to so much sun.
'Wish I could have taken a Portkey,' he grumbled as he felt a bit of jetlag hit while he waited for his luggage.
Sadly, for the sake of secrecy, he'd had to travel the Muggle way. The African Tribal Coalition was quite anal about magic users coming into their territory, and unless you had a damn good reason, the waitlist for an African Portkey could be weeks, if not months.
He could have Portkeyed into Magical Egypt, as their travel laws were much less severe, especially for tourists, which he was technically posing as, but trying to cross the border deeper into Africa would have drawn unwanted attention.
When he finally grabbed his luggage, he grabbed a taxi and went to the hotel he had booked a room in: the Hotel des Mille Collines. According to the data Ed had provided, the hotel would become a refugee center during the genocide, with over a thousand people taking shelter in it during the early days of chaos.
'No wards,' Sirius noted as he looked out the window at the building. 'I'll have to throw a few up. Take a bit of work to protect the whole place, but if it makes it safer, it's something I just gotta do.'
He had a few runic Wardstones in his luggage which he could use to help with the barriers. Not very potent Wardstones, just cheap, temporary ones that would make it harder for people with negative intentions for the inhabitants to find it, but that was exactly what the hotel needed right now.
He grabbed his room key from the receptionist at the desk, and went up to the Presidential Suite. Admiring the décor for a moment, Sirius put his bags down and got to work double-checking everything.
Sirius reached into his backpack and took out the Mokeskin pouch that had been hidden inside. Within the magically expanded bag were a couple of runic guns, a pair of sunglasses enchanted to blur his features and make them forgettable, and one of the new prototype body armors.
He admired the black vest, nodding in approval at it. In the past year, new experiments had been done to improve them, resulting in the Avalon Mark 2 Body Armor.
They had been enhanced with a two-fold defensive array incorporated into the body armor. The Protego was now a constant, full body shield, rather than forming a tiny shield every time to block the shots. This allowed it to take multiple attacks from different directions at the same time and it now covered the legs.
The improved shield charm also included inertial dampeners to reduce ricochet chances, and had the flickers of light removed to avoid blinding the wearer. A Bubblehead Charm was also incorporated into the armor, ensuring tear gas and other chemical weapons wouldn't affect the wearer.
In order to accommodate all of this, a Compression Charm was used on the runic sequences to shrink them down into a manageable state, and the armor itself was given an Unbreakable charm to reduce the amount of damage it would take if the Protego was bypassed. The Unbreakable charm could protect from a few shots on its own, though enough force could go through it entirely.
All of the runes and enchantments could be powered by the magic in the air, ensuring even a Muggle could wear it and not be hurt too badly, with the Protego lasting for upwards of a dozen shots from small arms fire before needing to recharge, and provided half an hour's worth of fresh air from the Bubblehead Charm. But if a Squib or Wizard wore one, then it would be even more effective. A Squib could double or triple the effectiveness, while a wizard like himself might see a five to even tenfold improvement.
The Mark 2 Avalon Body Armor was highly effective, though it still needed work to make it cost effective. Right now, a single Mark 2 cost upwards of five thousand galleons to produce based on material and labor costs. That was too expensive, and it couldn't be made entirely with runes, which had been the whole point of the project in the first place: to make weapons and armor that didn't have to rely on actively cast enchantments. Aside from those issues, though, it was still an impressive piece of work.
'Wish we had some of these back during the war,' Sirius thought to himself with a faint melancholic sigh escaping him as he put it down onto the hotel's bed.
Guns and body armor weren't all he'd brought along, either. Some Ofuda Talismans, medical potions and cremes, and a couple of emergency Portkeys had been packed as well.
'Hopefully I won't need all of this,' Sirius thought to himself as he checked his personal sidearm.
The Merlin was just an ordinary 10 mm handgun, but it had runes for Piercing hexes inscribed onto it. The rounds could punch through tank armor at close enough range, and it was a truly lethal weapon. It also had an Unbreakable charm applied to it.
The next gun he inspected was the Excalibur Mark 1, a prototype rune-enhanced rifle. It has a Piercing hex array, but also had a scope attachment that had the Homenim Revelio charm applied to it, so he could see people even through solid objects like a wall.
There was also a silencer attachment that had Silencing runes on it to completely mask the sound of a bullet, and another couple of runes that could turn ordinary shots into explosive rounds. Last but not least, an Unbreakable charm was slapped onto it.
The whole thing was enchanted with runes, making it a deadly weapon in the hands of a trained soldier. Sirius wasn't one, but he didn't really need to be. With the guns and the body armor, he would be almost untouchable by mundane means.
'Gonna be one hell of a live fire test run,' he thought to himself with a snort before putting everything back into the Mokeskin bag, and putting it onto his belt, ready to be used at the drop of a hat.
With his wand holster strapped to his wrist, letting him cast spells without having to draw it – an innovation of Moony's, in fact, born from his time having to live in the Muggle world due to his curse – and the various enchanted objects like the Bullet Time Ring Ed had given him, Sirius was confident in his chances of completing many of the objectives here.
'First things first: gotta scout out the place. Get a grasp of the city and the locations I'm gonna need to be,' Sirius thought as he left his room.
He got a couple tourist maps and brochures from the lobby, then proceeded to wander around Kigali. It was currently late afternoon, and he was able to look for places to eat as well.
As he acted like a typical tourist, Sirius kept an eye on the mood of the city and its people. There was definitely tension in some places, people trying to pretend everything was fine when it was clear things weren't.
It reminded Sirius far too much of the Dark Lord's reign of terror. The fear, the tension, the attempts to play dumb… he didn't like it. Not one bit.
Getting hungry after walking around, and since the sun was starting to set, Sirius decided to try some local cuisine. He enjoyed it quite a bit, and made a note to have Kreacher try to replicate it.
The thought of forcing the bitter old elf to cook something that wasn't British food made him smirk.
It was a good way to end the day in his opinion.
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The next morning, Sirius read a newspaper while eating a continental breakfast in the hotel lobby. He was seeing what he could about the politics in Rwanda, and had already learned more than what Ed had been able to tell him.
'The situation is a lot worse than I thought it was,' Sirius thought with a barely hidden grimace. Trying solve the problems the little Seer had brought up weren't going to be easy. 'Might even have to call in some back up.'
For the moment, he didn't think he would need to summon reinforcements from Crucible Security, but a niggling worry in the back of his head wouldn't leave him, and he made a mental note to see who Ed could send over last minute.
For today, though, Sirius was going to be finishing his exploration of Kigali. The city was nowhere near as labyrinthine as London, but it was still quite sprawling and needed effort to cover it all.
'I've got three days to get my preparations set up properly,' Sirius mused, directing his thoughts to his plans for the next few days. 'Lemme see… scout out the presidential palace, the other seats of government, Prime Minister's home, UN camp, other important sites… got my work cut out for me. Probably going to have to do some of this on the fly, too, in order to avoid notice. Thankfully, I can slip about undetected.'
Thanks to recovering a bit from Azkaban, his animagus form no longer looked like a gaunt Grimm. Still was a big dog though, but it was too well-fed and groomed now to pass as a wild street mutt.
'Still, it will give me a closer look at things without being noticed,' Sirius thought to himself as he sipped at the excellent coffee. Seriously, if this was what the local Rwandan beans were like, he was definitely making sure the country got saved for the sake of good coffee!
Once he was done with breakfast, Sirius left the hotel wandered around Kigali a bit more, eventually coming to a place that he'd noted as being of interest last: a heavily warded district.
The local mages living in Kigali had turned a few streets into something not unlike Diagon Alley and the other mystical avenues in London. It was nice and colorful, with the smells of exotic spices in the air.
However, the magical government of Rwanda did hold meetings within the city. No, they had a secret spot elsewhere in the country, far away from the Muggle population. In fact, the magical society of Rwanda was descended from the Kingdom of Rwanda and retained many old customs that put them at odds with the rest of the modern nation, more so than even the divide between magicals and Muggles in the British Isles.
'Which means that the magical society is predominately still run by Tutsi tribesfolk, while the Muggleborn are mostly Hutu,' Sirius thought with a barely hidden grimace. That meant the civil war would become a lot more brutal and bloody with magic thrown into the mix.
'Odds are there are going to be Tutsi Purebloods fighting against Hutu Muggleborn when the coup kicks off,' Sirius guessed.
After a moment he entered the magical street, passing through the Muggle diverting wards. 'I need to see what things are like in the magical side of things.'
Kigali's magical sector was not very lively. It was, like the rest of the city, tense, as if they could sense the chaos about to break loose. Though it was more colorful than magical London, with bright and cheerful colors on display in every shop window. Red and green striped pavilions were set up next to stalls run by witches and wizards in yellow, red, and green robes.
Being a white wizard drew a lot of attention his way, and Sirius found that the merchants were suddenly very eager to make his acquaintance.
Sirius decided to play the tourist, glad he'd changed his hair and appearance before entering in order to prevent anybody connecting his currently blond appearance with Sirius Black, British Lord.
He did notice a few things while browsing. Some storefronts had blue and green stripped banners while others had pure blue banners, and the way the people moved around these stores showed that there was something important about those markers. He also saw that the striped banners belonged to the stalls and vendors who did not operate out of buildings and instead set up on the sides of the road.
"What's the deal with the banners?" Sirius inquired as he stopped at a vendor selling enchanted pottery.
"That?" the stall's owner inquired, following the European wizard's gaze, which was currently fixed onto the man's own blue and green banner.
"Ah, it is a small thing," he said, trying to wave it off, but Sirius simply shook his head while putting a silver sickle down in front of him.
"It doesn't seem that way," the Animagus replied.
"Well, you see…" the man stammered, before glancing around discreetly and taking the coin. "The striped banner is for people like myself. Hutu. The pure blue means they are Tutsi."
"There is bad blood between your two groups, right?" Sirius pressed.
"Some," the seller admitted. Sirius, sensing his reluctance to continue, put another coin down.
"It has been… difficult in recent years for Hutu like myself to make a living in Rwanda. The Tutsi seem to think that just because our Muggle counterparts control the other side's government, then they can order us around and make it harder to do anything."
"The Tutsi used to dominate the monarchy, yeah? Must mean there are a lot of old Tutsi blood wards and magical defenses," Sirius guessed.
"Yes, yes, the Tutsi use those to, um, keep the peace," the vendor said, though Sirius could hear the disdain in his voice.
"Unfortunate," Sirius sighed. "Are there many Hutu Muggleborn?"
"About half of all Muggleborn are Hutu," he confirmed. "Though almost all Tutsi are Trueborn. Ah, that would be 'Purebloods' in European, yes?"
"Sounds right," the disguised wizard said with a nod. He then picked out an enchanted clay pot that would magically purify any water put into it, making it safe to drink. "I'll take this one, if you don't mind."
"Of course, of course, good sir!" the merchant said, his smile becoming genuine as Sirius paid in gold for it.
'I bet Ed would be interested in these enchantments,' Sirius mused to himself as he walked off, his purchase tucked into another expanded bag that didn't have any of his weapons or gear.
He also found a shop – Tutsi aligned – selling magic carpets and he decided to indulge and buy one. He needed a way to get around that could carry multiple people if he ended up having to evacuate the Prime Minister, and a flying carpet would suit that role perfectly.
When he was done shopping around noon, Sirius had explored the magical parts of Kigali and come to learn some important facts. One, the Tutsi Purebloods owned or controlled the best stores. They owned more buildings as well. Two, the magicals were indeed divided into Muggleborn and Pureblood. Three, said Hutu magicals were oppressed by the Tutsi, prevented from holding office in the magical government.
It was a worrying inverse of the situation on the Muggle side of the country. The Tutsi were a subjugated minority while the Hutu ran the government. It looked like the Tutsi mages were getting back at the Hutu mages for this.
'When the coup erupts, the Hutu magicals are going to aid their Muggle counterparts and try to take down the Tutsi controlled magical government as well,' Sirius thought. He was absolutely sure of this.
The Statute of Secrecy might not be able to hold up if open conflict between two different groups of mages end up fighting each other while also intervening in the fighting amongst the mundane factions.
There was a chance, albeit small, that the magical community of Rwanda would stay out of the uprising and subsequent genocide in an effort to preserve the Statute and ignore the racial tensions, but Sirius wasn't going to hold his breath.
War was going to sweep the country, and magic was going to end up being used by both sides in the Muggle coup.
'I need to prepare,' he thought to himself as he found a place to eat some lunch. 'When I'm done, I need to inspect the Prime Minister's home and scout it out. See what I can do there.'
So much to do, so little time! At least the food was good.
111 &&& 111
Chapter 84: Chapter 84: Sirius Black, Dog of War (Part 2)
Chapter Text
Chapter 84: Sirius Black, Dog of War (Part 2)
Sirius POV
The night was not silent in Kigali. There were lots of noises that caused Sirius' ears to twitch. Sirens. Shouting. Gunfire.
'It's started,' Sirius thought to himself, rising from his spot on the roof, pausing to scratch one of his ears.
It was early morning of April 7th. Last night, President Habyarimana's airplane was shot down. Emergency government meetings had occurred and Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana had been meeting with the government committee trying to establish some sort of control.
Not too long ago, the Prime Minister had returned home after illegally being denied the presidency by the committee. They claimed she had 'no support.' A lie. Sirius had eavesdropped in many places and learned she was a respected leader amongst the Hutu moderates and even the Tutsi. She would have ensured calm, if this was happening in a vacuum. But it wasn't. This was all part of an evil plan.
Coup forces were amassing in the streets, whipping up mobs, and the butchery was starting. Sirius had done what he could do to rescue as many members of the moderate government as possible late last night.
He had snuck into homes and Transfigured the inhabitants into marbles to protect them. The list Ed had given him was used, and Sirius also helped plenty of people who hadn't been named thanks to his investigations, and he'd managed to ensure the Minister of Agriculture, the President of the Constitutional Court, the Arusha Accord's negotiator, and dozens of lesser officials and their families would not be dragged out of their beds and butchered in the street. More than a hundred were now safely secured in their tiny spherical forms within a bag.
Now, it was time to act to protect the Prime Minister. He'd saved her for last, for a couple of reasons, but the main one was that he'd run out of time getting the rest of the people to safety.
Currently in his Animagus form, Sirius was perched on a roof close to the Prime Minister's residence. He glanced around, making sure nobody was nearby, and turned back into a human, making sure to put on his identity scrambling sunglasses.
'Heh, I look so cool!' he thought to himself, still able to see through them normally thanks to a secondary enchantment on the lens.
Once he was back in his regular body, he fished out his Mokeskin bag, and got dressed in the body armor while taking out the Excalibur and Merlin firearms and laying the flying carpet down before getting onto it.
Making sure the bag full of the Transfigured people was safely secured, he cast some Disillusionment spells to prevent being spotted and took off into the air, circling the home he was protecting.
Ten Belgian UN soldiers and five Ghanese had been sent to protect the Prime Minister, along with several members of the Rwandan presidential guard. But Sirius knew thanks to Ed's foreknowledge that around 7 am, the presidential guard would begin to act, surround the UN soldiers. The UN forces would foolishly throw their weapons down and surrender, only to be tortured to death by the coup forces later on.
Prime Minister Agathe would escape, but her mistake would be to head to the UN compound in Kigali. Then, at 10 a.m., the PG would invade the compound and, without resistance, start searching for her and any other 'undesirables.'
Back in the present, a Hutu extremist mob had reached the gates of the Prime Minister's home, and this seemed to be the sign for the traitorous PG. They started to act, rounding up and surrounding the UN troops. It began as a stand-off, the troopers refusing to surrender – for now.
'Not on my watch,' he thought, picking up the Excalibur and looking down the sight. Through it, the walls were practically non-existent as he could see the outlines of people through them thanks to the Human Revealing charm the scope was enchanted with.
He pulled the trigger, and a presidential guard dropped dead as a Piercing hex enhanced bullet went through the wall, and then the man in question. That cause an eruption of chaos, nobody sure what was happening, and the PG and UN both unsure of what to do or who to blame.
There were still enemies he had to eliminate, and Sirius began to open fire onto the traitors, killing them with well-placed, magically infused bullets. After eliminating all of the PG, the gunshots and bloodshed seemed to spook the mob outside in the street, and a few shots into them, targeting those who held blood-stained weapons, sent them scattering.
"That takes care of that," he muttered to himself, before soaring down to land in the courtyard.
Naturally, his presence, and that of his 'unorthodox' method of transportation, startled the Belgians and one of them tried to shoot him. It didn't work, and Sirius Banished the gun from his hands with a flick of his left wrist, where is hidden wand was sheathed.
"So, you won't shoot murderous rioters or traitorous soldiers, but you will shoot the guy who saved your bacon," Sirius snorted. "As expected of a Belgian."
"You-! Who are you?!" another soldier demanded, his voice shaky.
"Stand down! Stand down, you idiots!" the sergeant in charge of the UN soldiers snapped, striding in between them, before glaring at Sirius. "You! What the hell is going on?!"
"Call me… Agent Black," the Animagus said, a tiny smirk on his face. "And I'm here to rescue the Prime Minister and her family, since you guys cannot handle such a simple task."
'Yes, no one will suspect my code name is actually my real name! It's so stupid it's genius!' he thought to himself, mentally patting himself on the back.
"Who sent you?" the sergeant demanded suspiciously. "And how did you… do all that?"
He was eyeing the flying carpet still hovering an inch or two above the ground, and Sirius chuckled.
"I was sent by… let's say interested parties who will go unnamed for now," Sirius replied. "As for this? Well, you want the truth? Or do you want the lie?"
"The truth, obviously," the sergeant spat out.
"Magic," Sirius said, his grin widening as the officer spluttered at that response. "Now, let's go! We don't have a lot of time."
"You cannot expect us to believe that!" a soldier asked angrily, but was prevented from saying or doing anything else by a newcomer interrupting.
"Enough of this!" a new voice called out, and Prime Minister Agathe appeared in the doorway of her house, glaring at everyone, though a flicker of unease ran through her as she took in Sirius and his carpet.
"Ma'am, we have this under control…" the sergeant tried to say, but was cut off by her hand.
"Do you? Or was the mob about to break down the gates to my home a hallucination?" she demanded sharply.
"I, well, that is," he stammered. "We have orders-!"
"And so do I," Sirius spoke up. "And it is to protect the Prime Minister and her family through any means necessary. I've already secured a large number of the moderate government and their families as well, and she's the last one."
"You want me to evacuate?" Agathe asked, turning to Sirius.
"We need to get you to the UN headquarters, it's the safest place… for now," he confirmed. "I can get you all out, but we need to leave now."
"What of the committee?" she inquired, a tone of wariness in her voice.
"Colonel Bagosora is behind the coup and has issued an order for Hutu extremist militias and the army to butcher every Tutsi in the country," Sirius informed her. "Death squads have been tearing the city apart since the president's assassination at his hands, and it won't be long before more of them come this way after news of the presidential guard's failure is learned about."
"Bagosora killed him?!" she gasped.
"Yes. Who else would have access to military grade anti-air missiles, or the knowledge of where the president's plane would even be at the time it was targeted?" Sirius asked rhetorically.
"That… that is just speculation…" the UN sergeant began, but trailed off.
"You promise to guarantee the safety of my family?" Agathe asked hopefully. It was telling that she didn't disagree with Sirius' claim of Bagosora's actions.
"I will personally send your husband and children out of the country if need be," Sirius vowed. It wasn't quite a magical oath, but it had weight behind it all the same, and she seemed to sense this before nodding. Slowly at first, but then with greater determination.
"Very well," the Prime Minister said. "Give me a few minutes."
"I can do that," he assured her, before turning to watch the gates. Nobody was coming just yet, but he could see some people further down the street starting to recover their bravery and regain their mob mentality.
Thankfully, before they could reform into a new group, Agathe and her family emerged from the house, a few pieces of hastily assembled luggage in their hands.
"Will it fit?" she asked, looking from her family to the carpet.
"Sure," Sirius said, and he Shrunk the suitcases until they could fit in their pockets, to the shock and awe of everyone assembled.
"How…?" she whispered.
"Like I told soldier boy over there… Magic!" Sirius grinned.
"Ma'am, this… I must protest this decision!" the sergeant said, trying to stop her, but she shook herself and denied his request.
"No. You've done enough," she said disdainfully. "Come along, children."
The family boarded the carpet. It was a tight fit, but they all made it on. Sirius then had it rise into the air and the enchantments kicked in, ensuring they couldn't fall off. The UN soldiers were left behind, jaws dropped open, and if they knew what was good for them, they'd skedaddle quickly.
As the carpet flew towards the UN compound in Kigali, Sirius would occasionally shoot down at checkpoints that had been set up in the streets and along the roads, blowing them up and killing the Interahamwe and Impuzamugambi, Hutu militia groups, who'd been manning them.
Sirius and Agathe could both see piles of bodies of Tutsis and Hutu sympathizers who had been gunned down on the spot when their ethnicity was discovered strewn about, and it caused the Prime Minister to clench her fists furiously while her husband covered their children's eyes.
"How… how could this happen?" she whispered in horror.
"This was planned for a long time," Sirius informed her sorrowfully. "Weapons were stockpiled, militias and army officials informed of the 'culling' months in advance, and the extremist elements have been indoctrinating the regular citizens for a while. The president's assassination was just the starting bell."
"Can we even stop this?" Agathe asked, uncertainty in her voice.
"Yes," Sirius said. "But… I can't claim that it won't require more blood."
He gestured to the north. "The RPF is going to be sweeping into the northern and eastern provinces soon, and will end the genocidal killings where they can, but it's going to result in a civil war. And some people… they will have to be killed to restore order, because if left alive, they will be able to control the extremists."
Sirius glanced at her. "However, with you still alive to push for peace, and to organize a legitimate government, it may be possible to end thing with much less loss of life and accompanying chaos."
"I- yes, you're right," Agathe said, sitting up straighter, a determined glint in her eyes. "Thank you, sir."
"Just doing my job," he replied, waving a hand through the air. "Now, get ready to land, Madam Prime Minister."
The UN camp could be seen up ahead, dozens of blue helmed soldiers guarding the area and doing what they could to rescue refugees. Sirius – or rather, Ed – knew that this wouldn't last. The UN would eventually stop trying to help people, afraid of angering the coup forces, but for now, some lives would be saved.
'It's also the best place to put the Prime Minister for now, because she can use their radios and what-not to communicate with others. And, if need be, I can evacuate them when the presidential guard come looking for her,' Sirius thought.
The wizard made sure to land away from the guns that could turn them into Swiss Cheese, and plopped the carpet down in front of one of the camp's entrances before dismissing the charms hiding them.
Obviously, a group of people on flying carpet appearing from out of nowhere startled a lot of UN soldiers and nearby refugees, but nobody opened fire this time.
"Stand down!" Prime Minister Agathe shouted as she stepped off, and the UN relaxed minutely, but still were nervous. The refugees, however, all began clamoring for explanations, or begging for help, or just acting glad to see she was still alive.
Sirius let her take over, and instead helped escort her family to safety.
"That was amazing!" one of younger children exclaimed.
"Right? I'll show you some more stuff, later," Sirius promised with a grin, before shooting her husband, Ignace, a nod. He returned it, albeit shakily.
Up ahead, Agathe was getting into a shouting match with whoever was in command at the compound's entrance, coming within inches of the man's face.
"…and get them inside, now!"
"Ma'am, we cannot," he replied. "We have our orders."
"Your 'orders' are to protect my people and my country!" she snapped back. "Now stand aside and let us in! All of us!"
The captain reluctantly stepped aside, and she swept into the compound as if she owned the place. Sirius followed behind, and eventually found himself in a tent with Agathe and a tired looked man.
Commander Dallaire, Sirius knew thanks to Ed, was a Canadian and Force Commander for the UN military assets in the country. He was a man who had tried to do the best he could with what he'd been given, but the UN had absolutely bungled the whole thing by not intervening at all, even after many of their own were killed and they witnessed the butchery themselves.
Oh, they could claim that they were following the rules, but it'd been a stupid move to wait until over a month after the genocide started to allow soldiers to protect civilians and themselves using lethal force, one that Dallaire had condemned repeatedly.
"I understand your anger, Ma'am…"
"Do you?" Agathe snapped angrily. "Because it sounds to me like the UN forces are not going to intervene as innocents are raped and slaughtered in the streets!"
"Those are our orders," Dallaire said bitterly. "Our mandate does not allow for direct intervention like what you are asking for."
"You know, I think I recall the Nazis made the same excuse," Sirius drawled, causing the people in the tent to finally pay attention to him.
"That was different," Dallaire bit out.
"Was it? They were only following orders, after all, and that didn't fly at Nuremburg, and it shouldn't fly now," Sirius pointed out, glad Ed had given him a few ideas of how to address this issue. "Sure, the situations are a bit different. They were obeying their superiors' orders to murder Jews and anyone else deemed 'undesirable,' and you are obeying orders not to get involved, but it all ends the same: with piles of dead innocents who could have been saved if you just acted!"
"So, what, you think we should start shooting the rioters in the streets? Fight the Rwandan army?" Dallaire spat. "We have only two thousand five hundred people, and not all of us are military personnel. We cannot fight an entire country alone!"
"You don't have to," Sirius retorted. "You just have to make it known that you are willing to put down coup forces if you come across them, and that you will protect the people being targeted. If that means shooting some extremists waving bloody machetes? So be it."
"Who even are you?" Dallaire demanded, realizing that something was off with his presence.
"I'm the man who knows what is going to happen if you don't act," Sirius replied darkly. "Consider me a free agent who's working to make sure this does not get any worse."
"He's the man who saved me and my family when the presidential guard began shooting at my UN protection detail," she snapped. "A protection detail who failed to fire even a single shot in my defenses, I might add!"
Dellaire grimaced and muttered under his breath, before glaring at Sirius once more.
"An analyst I trust with my life says that the genocide will end within four months," he stated. "And it will happen because the RPF sweeps into Rwanda and stops the slaughter as they defeat the unprepared Rwandan military forces. But between eight hundred thousand and one million innocent people will die before then."
Both the commander and Prime Minister winced at that declaration, and the other people in the tent all shared concerned looks. Some were skeptical, but they didn't speak out against the claims just yet.
"I will repeat my question, then: what do you think we should do with what we have?" Dallaire demanded.
"I managed to rescue a large portion of Rwanda's moderate government," Sirius said. "The plan I'm following is to deliver the Prime Minister and her supporters directly to the RPF. Failing that, escorting them out of the country to form a government in exile. That is a last resort, though. Best option for stopping the violence is to coordinate with the RPF and eliminate the coup forces, who are, to be blunt, disgusting monsters who deserve a bullet between the eyes."
"We cannot interfere," one aide spoke up. "Perhaps if both sides would be willing to negotiate peace…"
"There will be no negotiations!" Agathe spat at him. "This has obviously been planned! This is no spontaneous butchery but a coordinated massacre! Bagosora is orchestrating all of this, and your lack of support will cost lives!"
"The UN is going to dither and not come to a decision for a while, and your Chapter VI mandate means you won't be able to intervene militarily," Sirius added. "Plus, Belgium is a skittish country and if they lose even a single soldier to the coup forces they will withdraw all support. And considering they have the largest presence on the ground here..."
"We would never do that!" another aide, this one obviously Belgian, shouted angrily.
Sirius rolled his eyes. Based on the future report Ed had made, Belgium would indeed do just that. Following the torture and murder of the ten Belgian soldiers who'd failed to guard the Prime Minister, Belgium would pull out all support, crippling the relief efforts.
"Europe is going to be a problem, let's not beat around the bush," Sirius scoffed back. "Belgium will back out like cowards, England will protest but do nothing, and France is working with the coup forces, providing funding and backing in secret."
That statement caused a Frenchman to shout protests, but Sirius continued to ignore him. "And then there is the United States. They suffered causalities in their Somali mission and aren't keen to get bogged down in Africa. They could be convinced if there was proof the war would end quickly, or there was, say, a legitimate government, but generally speaking, the UN is going to be useless."
Sirius turned towards Dallaire. "You, Commander, have to decide to do something to help. My suggestion would be to keep doing what you've been doing, but with the added caveat of shooting anybody who tries to attack you. Oh! And maybe bunch up all of the foreign tourists and citizens in a few UN compounds where you're also keeping refugees? Gives you the excuse to use lethal force to 'protect the foreigners.'"
Dallaire actually looked like he liked that latter idea. Sure, using foreign civilians as meat shields and an excuse to shoot genocidal forces was a terrible idea that could easily backfire, but it would allow him to act beyond the stifling limitations imposed on him.
"What agency did you say you were working for?" Dallaire inquired.
"Never did," Sirius smirked. The commander huffed at that, but turned to meet the Prime Minister's eyes.
"Alright, it's not exactly a great idea, but it's all we have to go on. I'd prefer not to send you out to the RPF, but it could be a way to coordinate the legitimate government's movements, and ensure you're protected. It would also give the RPF legitimacy, and allow my men to do a bit more if we're acting together."
"Commander, that isn't wise!" a captain said sharply. "If we try to interfere, there could be consequences!"
"What is the UN going to do, Court Martial me?" Dallaire scoffed. "I happen to agree with the spook, there. The UN isn't going to be helpful. We're stuck here on our own without immediate supplies and reinforcements, and protecting ourselves and our charges is something we'll have to take into our own hands."
"You cannot mean you will actually allow the soldiers to fire on civilians!" somebody else protested. "Even if they are rioting!"
"They would be shooting illegal militiamen who are killing people," Agathe shot back.
"That will just cause retaliations and reprisal killings!"
"The coup forces are already going to be murdering any native Rwandan UN agents they find, be they Hutu or Tutsi," Sirius pointed out. "If you won't protect them, people who are employed directly by the UN, then what's the point of even being here? Should just take off your helmets and give your weapons to people who will actually use them."
There were a lot of angry faces glaring at him, but some actually looked ashamed and weren't able to meet his or the Prime Minister's eyes.
"So, what will it be?" Sirius asked, breaking the silence. "What's the plan?"
Before the commander could reply, a soldier rushed into the tent.
"The presidential guard are coming!" he shouted, sparking panic, and Sirius straightened up.
"You should have your troops start setting up in the front of the entrance and deny them entry if they ask for it," Sirius 'suggested' to Commander Dallaire.
"And what if they try to force matters?" the Frenchman from before demanded.
"Shoot them?" Sirius replied. "I mean, is that even a question or are you just stupid?"
"The UN compound has its own rules and adheres to the UN mandates," Dallaire eventually stated. "That means we will not allow the presidential guard entry unless they surrender their weapons and agree to act peacefully."
"Will they agree to that?" a Belgian asked.
"If they don't they won't be allowed in," the Canadian replied. The soldier who'd brought the message saluted and then left to relay the orders, and Sirius decided to leave the tent to check on things.
'Let's see if I have to do something,' he thought as he wandered towards the entrance, and discreetly slipped a Notice-me-not charm onto himself while keeping a hand on his Merlin.
There were presidential guard standing in front of the gate, armed and bloody. It was clear they had been involved in the killings, and recently at that.
As he was looking through the group of PG, he spotted one, in the back, who was not looking at the UN soldiers, but rather, he was mumbling something while staring at some of the Tutsi refugees.
'That man… he's using magic!' Sirius realized, eyes widening in shock.
Magic that solely relied on verbal incantations was rare and Sirius began to look more closely. Doing so, he also was able to see that the PG had something in his hands… no, it wasn't in his hands, rather, it was wrapped around his wrists, like a bracelet.
Made of some sort of bone, Sirius's nose twitched as he let his animagus side out and used it to discreetly sniff the air. It was faint, but he could just barely detect a stench of a curse of some sort.
Animals were far more sensitive to magic than humans, even non-magical ones, and combining the senses of a beast with that of his own magical awareness granted Animagus like himself an ability to detect magic in subtle ways.
It was a rare skill, something Sirius had only learned could be done thanks to Remus discovering he could do the same after practicing some Native American meditation techniques to control his inner werewolf.
'Must be an African curse, I don't recognize the words he's chanting,' Sirius guessed as he stared at the mage as they continued to mumble.
He quickly raised his wand, and while still under the influence of his Notice-me-Not charm, cast two spells in rapid succession.
The first was another Notice-me-Not, directed at the mumbling PG. Then, when he jerked in shock at being surrounded by a foreign spell, Sirius blasted him with an overpowered Transfiguration spell, morphing the soldier into a wooden cube that clattered to the ground.
Nobody noticed that one of the presidential guard had just disappeared, and Sirius uttered "Accio!" to summon the object to his hand.
'Won't last for long,' he thought to himself as he quickly pocketed the Transfigured soldier. 'I've got maybe an hour before I have to worry.'
Living things turned inanimate never lasted that long, and those with active magical abilities would passively resist the Transfiguration.
With the curse disrupted before it could do anything and the potential enemy mage dealt with for the moment, Sirius returned his attention to the PG, who were growing very loud and angry at being denied entry into the compound.
"…just stand aside!" the PG demanded. "The Prime Minister needs to be secured!"
"You have received the Commander's conditions for entry!" the UN blue helm replied curtly. "You can comply with them, or you can leave."
"This is illegal!"
"No, it is within the remit of our mission statement," the soldier shot back. "Even if you are here on the Prime Minister's behalf, we cannot allow entry if you refuse to follow simple instructions!"
"You-! The colonel will hear of this!" the PG officer snarled.
"Yes, I'm sure," the UN soldier said, unimpressed.
The PG decided not to push it, as his eyes darted to the numerous machineguns that had been set up to cover the entrance of the compound, and after some more empty threats he stormed off, leading their group away. People breathed out in relief once that happened, and Sirius decided to step away and interrogate his captive.
In a secluded area of the camp, Sirius dropped the wooden cube down, but before turning them back to normal, he set up a bunch of wards to deflect notice, and to prevent magical spying. Last but not least, he stuck one of Ed's Stunner Ofuda on top of the cube.
Once that was done, he turned the cube back into a human. Naturally, they were spooked and startled, and tried to start casting a spell of their own, but the Ofuda that had been stuck onto the cube hadn't transformed when the cube went back to being a human, and meant that Sirius was able to activate immediately. The mage collapsed to the ground, stunned.
'A surprising use of Ed's talisman,' Sirius thought with a flicker of amusement. He then hit the mage with a Petrificus Totalis to make doubly sure he couldn't escape.
Sirius then stripped the man of his uniform, and everything on his person, including a wand and the bone bracelet he'd used as a tool to channel the curse earlier.
Once he was done, he conjured up rope to bind his entire body from head to toe. Even if he wasn't paralyzed, he wouldn't be able to do more than wiggle his toes.
"Wakey, wakey, buddy," Sirius said, hitting the soldier with an Rennervate, waking him up. He spluttered loudly and he tried to sit up, but when he discovered he was trapped, he began to look around wildly.
"What is this?! What is happening?!" he screamed, hoping to be heard, but Sirius had taken care of that already.
"This is an interrogation," Sirius informed him. When the PG soldier saw who was standing over him, he growled angrily.
"One of the Tutsis' mercenaries!" he scowled. "What, did they call for aid from the ICW?"
He then sneered. "Heh. They knew they could not defeat us, so they had to beg like dogs to their European masters for help!"
Sirius just looked down at him silently, processing that. 'Okay, it seems the Hutu magicals have something against the European mages. Which, fair, but still, raises some questions.'
"Making sure the Statute of Secrecy remains intact is paramount," the animagus said, deciding to go with the cover the Hutu had provided him.
"Filthy white dog," the soldier replied.
"Since you're with the presidential guard, that makes you a Hutu," Sirius said, continuing to talk, mostly to himself. "And with the fact that you've got a wand, that means you're a wizard. With how easily you integrated into the military… also some sort of Muggleborn."
"What's it to you?" the bound mage spat.
"Just speaking aloud. Though I am somewhat surprised you have a wand. I thought African mages preferred other tools," Sirius hummed curiously.
"Of course I have a wand," the magic using PG spat. "The Truebloods do not allow us to use proper staves or foci!"
"Pretty sure a wand is better than a staff, but that might just be my European sensibilities talking," Sirius replied as he thought over what he'd just learned.
'So, the Tutsi mages don't allow anyone other than themselves to use certain magical foci,' Sirius mused. 'Must be one of the points of contention between the factions.'
Staves were strong, but they weren't as versatile as a wand. They need to be attuned to a specific user and a Ley Line. As a result, the staff becomes almost unbeatable in the land where it was created, and can perform spells far more efficiently. It can even be passed down through bloodlines, growing stronger with every successive generation.
Yet the downsides were just as severe. Staves lost a significant amount of power outside of their place of attunement, and in the hands of another person, was useless. They were also far more fragile. A wand could work even if cracked or broken. Not well, and with the risks of backfiring, but it still did magic. A staff that got cracked, though? It withered and lost all power… or exploded. And any spells, enchantments, or wards ever erected with the broken staff died with it.
There was a reason why Europe had turned away entirely from staff-based foci around two thousand years ago. It was a tradeoff of being capable of use anywhere in exchange for raw, overwhelming power.
"…and then we will butcher that cockroach loving woman and ensure that her bones will burn for eternity-!"
Sirius narrowed his eyes, returning his wandering attention back to the bound man.
"So, you've got more assassins coming after her. Magical ones, too," Sirius hummed.
The PG went still and silent as he realized he'd said more than he should have. It was too late, though. Sirius knew he had to act quickly, and he had a few ideas on how to do so.
"Bye-bye," he said, turning him back into a wooden cube and pocketing it. He'd toss it away outside of the compound's walls later. Maybe with a curse or two slapped on for good measure.
For now, he had a Prime Minister to protect.
Chapter 85: Chapter 85: Sirius Black, Dog of War Part 3
Chapter Text
Chapter 85: Sirius Black, Dog of War (Part 3)
"We need to leave," Sirius told Agathe as he slipped back into the command tent, who shot him a searching looking. It was shared by Dallaire, and a few other aides who hadn't yet left.
"Why? What's happened?" she demanded to know.
"Coup forces with, shall we say, 'special' tactics like my own are going to be coming after you and your family," Sirius warned the Prime Minister.
"Special tactics… there are others who can do as you do?" she asked, and Sirius nodded.
"There are quite a few of us. Enough to be a problem. So, in order to ensure your safety, we need to go. Now," the animagus declared.
"We are more than capable of protecting her!" a UN agent declared, annoyed at Sirius poking his nose in.
"You aren't. You really aren't," Sirius snorted.
"What about my family?" she asked, and he paused, thinking it over.
"If they are sending 'special forces' after you, they'll definitely go after your family, too. In that case… I think we should send them to safety before anything else."
"Yes! Thank you," Agathe said in relief.
"Let's go find them," he said, and they left the tent to go find the husband and kids, ignoring the demands from Dallaire to explain what was going on.
The UN base was filling up with a lot of displaced Kigali citizens as the chaos within the city spread, so the streets were packed. In fact, it was for this very reason that Sirius was given a hint that something was wrong as he and Agathe pushed and shoved their way through.
A Rwandan man, dressed like any other refugee, was walking through the crowd, and the people, UN and locals, walked around him, unconsciously parting to let him through. They did not notice him at all, and didn't shove, spit, or swear at him for getting in their way.
"Shit!" Sirius swore, realizing that the person wasn't just being ignored, they were going unnoticed by the Muggles around them. A potent Muggle Repelling charm had been cast upon their body, allowing them to move through the camp without detection.
Disillusionment or even a Notice-Me-Not would have worked just as fine. Even better, since those spells could force even magical folk to not see the user coming. But the Hutu assassin was overly confident that there would be no magical forces on guard and had used the bare minimum to sneak inside.
He was completely oblivious to the Transfiguration spell that slammed into him, turning him instantly into a rock. It then got Accio'ed over before anybody could trip over it and disrupt the enchantment.
'Gotten a lot of practice with Transfiguration spells recently,' he thought with a snort. 'If only James could see me now. He was always Minerva's golden boy in the class and never let me forget it.'
"Wh-what was that?!" Agathe gasped as she saw a stone just appear out of nowhere and drop to the ground before shooting into Sirius' hand. "Where did that rock come from?!"
"That used to be an assassin, one of the ones I told you about," Sirius warned her. "Had to transform him. Luckily, it doesn't seem like he had any friends. We need to hurry, though."
She nodded weakly and walked a little faster. Thankfully, Ignace wasn't far, though he looked like he was having trouble wrangling the children. They were with a group of other refugees, tired and scared, but trying to stay cheerful for the kids nearby.
"Ignace, it's time to go," she said softly, pulling on his hand.
"Go? Go where?" her husband asked bitterly. "The city is infested and the roads are cut off. The military has encircled Kigali and won't let us leave."
"Luckily, I have a way out for you and the kids," Sirius told him in a low voice, so just the two of them could hear.
"And what of the children here? What of the people we are leaving behind?" he asked pointedly, and Agathe gave Sirius a look. She was also invested in this and after a moment he sighed heavily.
"Shit. Fine, let me make a call," he grunted, pulling out a Black Mirror. He called up Ed, who answered quickly.
"Sirius? What's going on?" he asked sharply as soon as his face appeared.
"So far, it's gone the way you said it would," the animagus replied. "But, I got the Prime Minister here, along with her family, and a bunch of the government."
"That's a relief," Ed sighed happily. "What's the next step?"
"Well, the UN are about as useless as you feared. Coup forces also have Muggleborn mages assisting them in secret. Had to deal with two already. But now, we want to get them out. The Prime Minister won't leave with me to find the RPF and set up a Government In Exile until her family is safe."
"You have Portkeys," Ed pointed out.
"Not enough, though," Sirius replied. "They want… well, she wants me to help as many refugees get out of here as fast as possible."
"That's…" Ed muttered. "That's going to be thousands of people. I was prepared for a dozen or so. A hundred, max."
"If you can't do it…"
"No, I can," Ed said sharply. "While you were gone, I took care of the old man. He's mine, now. I can use his resources to help."
He let out a heavy sigh. "Start sending them over to the warehouses. I will get people on them. Might have to transfigure them so they don't take up space and cause a ruckus. Make it less suspicious for a bunch of refugees to show up. And it will buy me time to turn Sir Briar's connections to my aide."
"Yeah, I can transfigure them, it would make it easier," Sirius promised. "Okay, get ready. I'll start by sending a few over now along with the Prime Minister's family."
"Good. And Sirius… thank you. You're doing good work."
"I'll be expecting hazard pay," he partially joked, before disconnecting the call and turning to the couple who were staring at him with wide eyes.
"My boss said it's okay, but there will be stipulations," he informed them.
"Ah, yes, that makes sense," Agathe said in a daze while Ignace muttered, "What devilry have we gotten involved with?"
It took some time and a few charms to befuddle minds, but soon the majority of the Tutsi and Hutu refugees in the camp were ready for transport. Some had been turned into marbles, as there wasn't enough Portkey space to go around. Thankfully, Transfigured people didn't interfere with the magic, so the pockets of the rest of the travelers could be stuffed with them for ease of transportation. These Transfigured refugees were joined by the Transfigured families of the Rwandan government officials he had rescued earlier, and would go to London with the rest.
"Alright, normally these are only supposed to be for small groups, so bunch up. Everyone has to share the rope," Sirius warned, handing out jump ropes for the non-Transfigured people in the refugee camp to grab ahold of.
Many of them were confused and scared, but they did so, seeing that the Prime Minister's family was doing the same, and Sirius took a deep breath before uttering the password.
"The Rose Garden will use its thorns to protect the innocent."
With that code said, thousands of people who'd been crammed into the UN's base suddenly vanished with a roar of displaced air.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" Dallaire exclaimed, having come over earlier to see what was happening.
As much as he hated to do so, Sirius swiftly Obliviated his mind in a massive pulse that swept the camp and the surrounding areas. As far as anyone else was concerned, the refugees had been escorted to safety by a third party.
Only the Prime Minister remained unaffected by the mind wipe, and she stared at Sirius fearfully.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"Magic," he replied. "Now, come on."
He tossed out the magic carpet and after hesitating for a moment Agathe got on with the strange British gentlemen who'd saved her.
They then lifted off, departing the camp as the UN forces blinked and recovered from the daze of being brainwashed.
"My family…" she began as they flew away, but Sirius held out the mirror once more.
"Call Ed," he requested, and a moment later and the young man's face appeared, this time looking tired. There was a lot of shouting in the background, too. A few spell flashes as well, as the unruly were stunned or Obliviated.
"They're all here and accounted for," Ed said.
"Prime Minister Agathe wants to see her husband," Sirius told him, before passing the mirror to her.
She took it gingerly, as if afraid it would explode like a live grenade, only to break out into a smile of relief when she saw her husband on the other end.
"Ignace! Are you alright?"
"I don't know how, my love, but we're in London!" he replied, shocked by the change of scenery.
The two spoke in low tones for a bit, reaffirming that both children were safe, and after a tearful goodbye, Agathe handed the mirror back to Sirius, who turned it off.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Just doing what was right," Sirius replied, just as softly.
They flew out of Kigali's airspace, hidden by concealment charms. Sirius played vigilante a bit more along the way, shooting – and destroying – as many checkpoints and pieces of genuine military hardware he could.
Jeeps, tanks, heavy weapon emplacements and ammo stores were left behind as smoking wrecks, the coup forces scrambling to find what had happened, only for a couple of Memory charms to make them believe the damage was done by faulty equipment and maintenance. It wouldn't exactly last long, but it would cut down on the power the genocidal army could bring to bear.
"I will have to return to Kigali after dropping you off," Sirius told her. "Of course, I'll stick around to make sure you stay safe with RPF, but I still have tasks I need to do back there."
Ed's list had included a number of atrocities he could hopefully prevent, and he'd been given permission to send more refugees back to London in order to ensure as many of them survived as possible.
There was a lot of time on his hands as he flew towards the RPF lines, so Sirius couldn't help but wonder if the way forward Ed proposed was the right one.
'What are we going to do when everyone has magic?' the animagus couldn't help but wonder.
The Muggle world was… violent. Reading the history books Ed had provided showed him that. They were constantly fighting, quarrelling, and developing new ways to do so.
Oh, sure, wizards had been fighting each other and other species just as viciously at times, but their wars were spaced further apart and generally less bloody. The war against Grindelwald and Voldemort being exceptions.
Was it because the magical population was smaller? Or did it have to do with how long the magical folk could live? From what Sirius had overheard from Ed, the former Squib believed it was a combination of the two, along with a more interconnected world.
So, what would happen when every Muggle suddenly wasn't a Muggle anymore?
They'd be able to see magic, bypass the typical wards, and force the magical world to integrate. Enormous, world-shaking ramifications. And when the next generation was born? They'd be able to use wands as well.
Would the Muggles turned mages make warfare even more destructive? How much chaos would erupt with these changes? Was it right to let the Muggles get their hands on something that would change everything?
However, Sirius knew from Ed's warning that it wouldn't be long until Muggles would notice the magical world. They couldn't hide forever. In fact, the former Squib had shown Sirius examples of modern Muggle technology that could already pierce the veil.
Digital cameras could ignore most ward spells. So, while a Muggle wouldn't be able to see the Leaky Cauldron, a photo of the place would reveal its existence. And Muggles had developed portable video recorders. There was nothing stopping a Muggle from using one of those to find warded areas and potentially force their way through.
Sonar, satellite imaging, the Internet… so many more things were coming and changing Muggle society. They weren't going to stop inventing and improving. So, Ed's idea to get in on the ground level while it was still possible in order to influence things and prevent too many leaks of the Statute until they could finish the ritual was the right one.
"Was it the right thing to do?" Agathe asked, breaking the silence.
"Eh? To leave?" Sirius asked.
"Yes. I… it feels like cowardice to run away while people are being murdered in their homes," the Prime Minister bitterly spat out.
"You're not running, it's a strategic retreat," Sirius told her. "Besides, it's not like you could do anything if you did stay. Kigali is fucked and it's the center of the coup forces. It's not cowardice to know when you should leave."
"I see. Then, may I ask… are there… are there a lot of you?" she wondered.
"Not as many as non-magicals," he replied.
"Could the coup forces be using more magicals to influence things?" Agathe inquired.
"Most likely. From what I was able to learn, there are a lot of Hutu magicals who dislike the fact that the magical side of Rwanda is run by Tutsis," Sirius informed her.
"They do?" she murmured.
"Yeah. Most magical societies aren't exactly too influenced by modern Muggle, I mean, mundane politics. They tend to be more stable. Basically, anything before the 1700s in the magical world is the same as it is now," Sirius said.
"Will the magical Tutsis – and that is not a phrase I'd ever have to say – take offense with me knowing?" Agathe asked.
"Oh, absolutely. It's best that you keep you know this under wraps. They'll probably wipe your memories of me and any magic if they find out. So, when we reach the RPF, I'll have to make sure nobody notices me, because I will bet you a hundred galleons that they have a magical minder watching them."
"That will make things difficult," she muttered.
"Maybe a little. But it'll work out," Sirius assured her.
A few more hours of flying later, and they neared the militant revolutionary army's main camp. Sirius's carpet touched down rather far from it, as unlike the UN forces, these soldiers were a lot more likely to shoot first, ask questions later when a strange white man on a flying carpet appears.
At the same time, Sirius took out the remaining Transfigured government officials out of his pocket, and turned them back to normal one by one, doing quick memory modifications to make it seem like they had escaped Kigali while their children and families had been evacuated.
Agathe looked uneasy at how easily Sirius was able to do so, but it seemed to reinforce his warning to keep her mouth shut about magic, or else she could have the same thing happen to her.
Sirius then led the officials, many of whom were still in their pajamas, through the jungle towards the RPF's front lines. It wasn't long before the group was discovered by the patrolling Tutsi soldiers, who quickly surrounded them.
"Hands in the air!" one of them shouted, and everyone wisely did so, Sirius included.
"Who are you?" another rebel fighter demanded, but one of them nudged him in the side.
"Hey, don't you recognize the woman there? That's the Prime Minister!"
"Eh? I thought she was dead. The radios were all saying it," a third rebel spoke up.
"Word of my death has been greatly exaggerated," Agathe said primly. "I would like to speak with Kagame. We need to work together in order to take back Rwanda from Bagosora and stop the killings!"
Whispers and radio communications were undertaken, and after a bit, the collection of disheveled men and women were escorted through the jungles. They were led to a camp, with hundreds of other RPF soldiers gathered.
"Well, it is a surprise to see you alive," Paul Kagame said, the leader of the RPF walking forward to stare at the Prime Minister.
"And while it would be a lie to say it is good to see you again, I am pleased to have a chance to take back our country," Agathe replied. The two leaders stared at each other, sizing each other up, before Kagame snorted.
"Are you truly willing to work with me?" he asked sharply a moment later.
"I disagree with some of the things you've done, but you have an army, and working together we can stop the butchery," Agathe stated. "I can give the RPF a sense of legitimacy, and we can force the UN and other countries to recognize us as the proper government. I am, after all, technically the president now."
"True, true," Kagame nodded. "So, say I am willing to support your return to Kigali and prop you up as President-in-Exile, what are you going to offer me?"
"Change," the Prime Minister declared. "I am a woman of my word, and I will promise you here and now that laws will be made to end discrimination between ethnicity. There shall be rough roads to overcome. Wounds like what has happened here won't fade easily. But I am not going to let Rwanda be ruled by racial ideologies or madmen. Rwanda cannot become yet another dictatorship. We stand to lose too much."
Kagame looked at the woman standing defiantly before him, before nodding to himself. "Pretty words. Words won't solve much, though. However, I am impressed you managed to escape from Kigali, and you rescued so many members of the moderate government."
He then offered Agathe his hand. "Fine. We shall band together. I know you are a good woman who has worked to help us Tutsi, and having you on our side will be vital for our efforts."
"Then we should have the Prime Minister do a radio announcement," one of Agathe's supporters said. "Let people know that the proper government does not condone these brutal acts, and the RPF is working with us to bring down that traitor Bagosora!"
"Not a bad idea," Kagame mused.
"Agreed, we should do this together. A joint announcement," Agathe said, looking towards Kagame, who seemed pleased by the offer to have his voice heard alongside hers. It was political, but for now, working together was important.
"Ah, before I forget… who is this man?" Kagame wondered, glancing at Sirius who just waved.
"Call me Agent Black," Sirius said politely. "I was hired by third parties to protect the Prime Minister and ensure the genocide does not go as badly as it is predicted to become."
"And how bad is it projected to be?" Kagame asked, a bit of morbid curiosity in his voice.
"A million dead in a hundred days," Sirius said grimly. "Tutsi and Hutu sympathizers alike. The Coup forces will not win, but it will be bloody and Rwanda will be ravaged and ruined economically for decades to come."
"Fuck," the RPF leader grunted, looking disgusted. "That's bad. Worse than I thought. How sure are you of this?"
"Best damn analyst I know is very certain this is what will happen," Sirius said. "I'm going back to Kigali to help rescue as many people as I can, but the sooner you guys can start working together and coordinating a push to eliminate the presidential guard and coup-aligned forces, the better. I'll do what I can to help, of course. Need something scouted out? Or enemy supplies destroyed? I'm your man."
"You are willing to help, huh? Out of the kindness of your heart?" Kagame asked skeptically.
"The people I work for are interested in saving lives and stabilizing the country. Of course, I'm also not a cold-hearted bastard. I wouldn't be able to stand by and watch this happen," the animagus declared firmly.
"A man of conviction, eh? Could always use more of those," Kagame mused. "Yeah, we can work together… so long as your bosses say you can."
"Looking forward to it," Sirius chuckled, before nodding at Agathe. "Stay safe, Prime Minister… Or, rather, I should call you Madam President, now."
"Thank you again for getting our families to safety," Agathe said, shaking his hand gratefully.
"Of course," he replied, and walked away, leaving the RPF camp.
He made sure to quickly disillusion himself, then turned into a dog and scampered into the jungle, hiding from the rebel fighters who were trying to trail him discreetly.
He then circled around, returning to the camp. He cast a few protection and detection charms on the newly promoted president and her fellow government officials, and made sure nobody magical was spying on the RPF.
There weren't any mages within them as far as he could see, but there were traces of magical interference here and there. Mind magic, mostly, but also tattered wards and broken enchantments alongside curse marks, hex-scars, and residue from jinxes.
'Looks like there was fighting here. The Tutsi Purebloods clashed with the Hutu Muggleborn, no doubt. And the latter lost,' Sirius mused.
It had happened last night from what he could tell, likely around the time that the coup was kicked off by Bagosora and his allies. A few well-placed Explosion curses could have crippled the RPF and given the coup forces time to rally. Without that happening, and with Agathe and Kagame working together, hopefully the civil war would end sooner, with fewer lives lost.
'Best to make sure of it,' Sirius thought to himself, and he quickly left on his carpet to return to Kigali. And, also, to blow up some presidential guard bases along the way, to soften them up for the rebel forces.
Without an accurate knowledge of where the Rwandan military forces actually were, Sirius had to rely on the age-old method 'Fly around until he found something' which worked, but was very slow.
He located several bases taken over by the coup forces and dealt with them by Vanishing the explosive components from the missiles and other explodey things. This rendered them utterly useless and didn't cause massive damage to the surroundings, which was a plus.
For regular weapons, he ruined them by Vanishing firing pins, or fouling the guns with a couple Jamming jinxes. Normally, the Jamming jinx was meant to cause doors and drawers to jam, but it worked just fine on firearms as they'd learned while experimenting on their own gun-based projects.
Six vehicle depots were targeted as well, and he dealt with them in a similar manner by Vanishing spark plugs and other tiny components. Without them, the cars, jeeps, tanks, and motorcycles wouldn't work until they got replacements. And with an uprising and civil war going on, that could take days if not weeks due to disruptions in the supply lines.
By the time he was done with the military targets around Kigali and Sirius returned to the city proper, it was almost evening, and he headed back to his hotel.
Nobody had broken into the Presidential Suite while he'd been gone, the wards and charms on the door and room had ensured that, but the building was now jam-packed with terrified refugees and foreign tourists.
'I'll have to work hard to get all the innocents out of the building,' Sirius thought, feeling utterly tired at the thought of all the casting he'd have to do in the future. His own reserves were starting to flag as well, and he yawned loud before sinking onto the bed for a nap.
A loud knocking woke him up, and he grumbled a little at being disturbed, before realization about what was going on hit him.
'Nobody should be knocking on my door!' Sirius realized, eyes shooting open. He pushed himself up and checked his watch. 4 a.m. He'd slept through dinner and was now up before dawn.
A bit annoyed, he went to answer the door, and opened it, finding a Rwandan man in a blue robe looking back at him, a staff of wood and bone clutched in his right hand. The visitor looked exhausted, dark bags under his eyes that spoke of a little sleep. He'd likely been awake since the coup started.
"Good evening… although I suppose now it is morning, isn't it?" the man said in heavily accented English.
"Ah, I was wondering if you guys would show up at some point," Sirius said, holding back a yawn. "You're with the Rwandan Magic Council, aren't you?"
"Yes," the Tutsi wizard replied with a curt nod. "Your actions have not gone unnoticed."
"I figured," Sirius shrugged. "So, what can I do for you?"
"The presence of a British wizard has raised… questions," the representative of the local magicals said. "Does you being here mean that the Confederation has decided to intervene in our personal matters? Is the Supreme Mugwump going to interfere with our sovereignty?"
"What makes you think I'm not a lone agent?" Sirius wondered, mostly out of curiosity.
"Hah! A lone agent would not have dozens of Portkeys on their person, or go out of their way to disable Hutu insurgents, both Muggle and magical," the Tutsi snorted.
"Fair enough. But no, I'm here for the innocents. Just trying to get as many as I can out of here," Sirius replied.
"Why?" the Rwandan asked, bewildered. "What does their survival benefit you?"
"If magic is used to kill Muggles, it will be noticed," Sirius retorted. "The UN observers here will wonder how some people died, and that will cause problems. The Statute of Secrecy could be damaged, and I doubt you have enough Obliviators to mess with everyone in the country."
"The blue hats are no matter," the wizard scoffed. "And if the Statute is your mission here, why are you interfering so openly?"
"I told you, the innocent lives I can save are my mission. Keeping the Statute alive is merely common sense," Sirius stated. "Now, come on. Why are you really here?"
"Very well," the mage huffed, stomping his staff onto the floor and releasing a burst of magic that wrapped around Sirius. "You have overstayed your welcome. Like the rest of the foreigners currently in our country, you are ordered to depart. We have Portkeys ready for you…"
"No need," Sirius cut in. "I have my own."
The Tutsi official glowered at the disguised British wizard, but nodded curtly. "So be it. You have until six a.m. to leave the country before the curse upon you activates."
"Two hours, huh," Sirius muttered. "Fine. I'll be gone in one."
The man nodded and popped away, using some sort of transportation spell that was similar to Apparation but was subtly different.
'Hmm… Leyline traversal? No, not quite. Must be something else… tied to the staff he was wielding, no doubt,' Sirius mused as he looked at the area where the man had just been. 'Ah! Now I see! He is using the attunement to the land! So long as he is within a territory under his control that is connected to his staff, he can go anywhere within it, ignoring most wards in the way.'
A clever use of staff magic, in his opinion. That meant that the man he'd just met was the local wizard in charge of Kigali, or at least a part of the land the city itself rested on.
Of course, just because it was impressive didn't mean he wasn't annoyed at being slapped with a curse out of nowhere. It was quite rude!
A quick examination of the magic binding him revealed he could break it… but not easily. It was easier to obey and leave the country.
'After all, the curse is going to force me to leave before six. As long as I comply, I can come back after that time limit is up without the curse affecting me,' Sirius noted.
It was honestly a rush job, only hard to undo because of the method used to put it upon him. Like he'd noted, staff magic had its advantages, and one such was enforcing curses or other enchantments. So long as he stayed within the territory the staff was attuned to, he couldn't break the curse in a timely manner.
'The poor wizard must be dead on his feet if he forgot to add 'and don't come back!' to the curse's requirement,' the animagus mused. Seriously, that was Cursing 101!
…Or maybe he just had a skewed sense of the do's and don'ts of cursing people thanks to dear old Mum and Pops teaching him that, mostly by casting said curses on him as 'practical lessons.'
Either way, he could just leave and come back. Easy-peasy!
'Still better make sure I have a Plan B just in case,' Sirius mused. Then, after closing the door to his room, he uttered "Kreatcher" out loud.
The ratty old House Elf appeared, scowling at Sirius, but notably not as deeply or bitterly as before. Eliminating the Horcrux that his brother Regulus had given his life to try and destroy had earned Sirius some good will from the Black Family House Elf. Add in finally establishing a proper Bond with the dying elf, and it ensured that Kreatcher was utterly loyalty to Sirius Black alone.
"Yes? What does master want?" Kreatcher demanded tiredly. Had he been sleeping? Eh, whatever.
"Kreatcher, pack my bags and clean the room," Sirius ordered. "Then, in an hour, I want you to teleport me back to Grimmauld place."
"It will be done," the elf declared.
"Then! An hour and a half after that, pop me back here," Sirius requested. "In the meantime, you are not to leave the hotel. You may, however, deal with any Muggles who are carrying weapons and trying to break into the building as you see fit."
Kreatcher looked up sharply at that, trying to find some trace of trickery in his master's face, but Sirius was serious, and a cruel smile flickered across the elf's face.
"Yes, master!" the House Elf said gleefully.
'Boy, I sure hope I don't end up regretting this,' Sirius thought as the room was cleaned up properly and everything was put into its proper place. Unleashing an evil old elf whose idea of 'fun' was dusting the severed and stuffed heads of his fellow elves on the world was probably not a good thing… but then again, they were murderers, so, eh.
When the time came to leave, Sirius was sent hurtling across the continent via magic, appearing back inside Grimmauld place in a single dizzying second.
"Going to have to get a new disguise," he muttered to himself. "And I should call up my reinforcements. We will need to work double-time now that the Rwandan Council has their eyes on me and any other magic users in the country."
They would not be amused by his trickery of coming back to interfere with them, but it was the only way to save more lives.
After his time there, Sirius was fully onboard with Ed's desire to rescue the people. Oh, he still had doubts about giving everyone magic, but this? This was unequivocally 'good' and he was eager to do it.
Maybe there was a bit of rebelliousness to it, knowing dear old mum would absolutely hate the idea of using magic to save Muggles, but hey, guess what? He didn't care what she thought!
As he prepared, he double-checked the list Ed had given him regarding a head-up on the worst of the atrocities that would be perpetuated if he couldn't stop them in time. He was not going to let any of it happen. They deserved better!
'Oh, James. If you were here, you'd be right beside me,' Sirius thought, nostalgia entering his mind as he thought about his best friend. 'And Remus and Lily would be helping as well. This sort of thing… it's right up our alley, isn't it? Saving people and doing good… We could never just sit around and let other people fight our battles.'
Voldemort was not going to come back, not if they had anything to say about it. And after the genocide was stopped… there were always more villains out there that needed to be fought. Evils to be opposed.
'You know, I think I finally found my calling,' Sirius thought to himself as he grabbed some magical items to help hide his presence from the Rwandan mages. 'You'd be proud of me… right?'
The dead could not speak, but Sirius had a feeling they approved all the same, and with a determination burning in his heart, he prepared to return to the fires of war. He would save them. Nothing would be able to stop him from doing so!
Chapter 86: Chapter 86: Moving On
Chapter Text
Chapter 86: Moving On
"And that's the last of them," I huffed, my wrist sore as I put my pen down, before moving the file I'd just signed to a growing pile in the OUT box on my desk.
'For now,' a traitorous part of my brain told me, and I grunted, unable to deny that as I glanced at the IN box that was currently empty, but which I knew would soon be full again.
The last three days had been busy for me, as it had seen a steady trickle of Rwandan refugees being Portkeyed into my warehouses which I naturally had to discretely deal with.
Obviously, most couldn't just leave. Not right away. It took time for normal people to travel anywhere, even with the fastest planes. So naturally people would be suspicious if a bunch of Rwandan refugees appeared in London mere hours after the genocide began.
For now, they were being dosed with a potent Draught of Living Death and Transfigured into miniature statues of themselves for safe keeping. When it was time, I'd turn them back to normal, fiddle with memories so they imagined they'd come in on a ship, one of my own Waverider cargo vessels that 'happened' to be in Africa at the time to be precise, and then they would be the government's problem.
Well, okay, I was definitely going to be helping them settle in and wouldn't leave them to the wolves. I'd get them passports, visas and jobs if need be, help them avoid being taken advantage of and make sure they didn't slip through cracks and get treated as illegals.
Some, like the Prime Minister's family, and the families of the other Rwandan government officials, were already in London, as they were important enough people that it wouldn't be hard to alter some paperwork to make it look like they'd fled via airplane out of the country and modified some memories to make them think just that.
Right now, they'd been granted asylum in England by the Queen herself, but for the rest of the people currently in my warehouses (and still coming in every so often) they'd need a bit more of a cover story before I could release them.
Add in the Foreign Affairs Minister of Rwanda who'd be acting like an ambassador to the UK, and the Rwandans would be able to get some help.
'Going to have to pull heavily on my newly acquired fortunes to get it all done without issue,' I thought with a faint grimace. A week later and Sir Briar had yet to display any disobedience to me, though I did not want to push it. Drugging him with potions only went so far.
'I'll have to frame it in a way that makes him want to take in several thousand refugees. Good publicity on the surface, but beneath that, access to cheap labor? Yeah, he'd probably go for that,' I mused.
At least Inky and the other House Elves were having a blast. They loved having things to do, and boy were there a lot of them!
Since I now secretly controlled one of the largest investment firms in the world, I had a lot of new property to go over. The House Elves were busy sorting through most of it, but there was also paperwork galore for me.
Apparently, suddenly being put into the will of one of England's wealthiest men sent shockwaves through the business world and generated a bunch of documents to be signed, notarized, and so on. Who knew?
All the people who'd thought I would fall prey to Sir Briar and be left with nothing had pulled out of my companies, allowing me to buy the shares back for myself, were now left reeling. Those who had stuck by me were smug as bugs in a rug, and the news that I was now the prickly old bastard's sole heir had people circling me again, but for a whole bunch of new reasons.
They wanted to be my 'friend' now that it was clear I was going places other than the poorhouse, and yes, it was painfully obvious to me that this was what they wanted.
I didn't outright refuse any of them, though. Couldn't really afford to make enemies like that, not so soon after my plan went off without a hitch, but once I was more secure and my power base more sturdy, I'd be able to sort out who was a true friend, and who needed to be made an example of.
'And speaking of friends, I need to send a gift basket to Delilah's mom for helping me out with her husband.'
After Mr. Hunt learned I'd become Sir Briar's heir, he had very nearly broken ties with me and forced me to break up with Delilah. His hate for the old man ran so deep he'd have ruined our business relationship – and the relationship between me and his daughter.
Thank God and Merlin Mrs. Hunt knew just what to say to convince him otherwise. I wasn't entirely sure what it had been, but knowing the man, it was probably something about using me to take over Sir Briar's businesses and ruining his legacy by having me do so as proxy.
So, good news: I still had a girlfriend. Better news: said girlfriend had finished her experiments and was now confident she could upscale her magical hydro-electric generator to a size capable of sustaining our own energy needs.
'She is surprisingly good at engineering. I wonder if she missed her true calling,' I mused.
Delilah was attending business school because of her father, but I could tell her true skill lay in designing and building things. 'Maybe I should pass her the other projects I've been working on, see if she could find a way to building some of the magic using machines I wanted to incorporate into my new holdings.'
Of course, that would have to wait, as a clock began to ring gently, announcing it was almost time for me to leave for an important meeting.
I stood up, stretching a little as I did, and put on my suit's jacket and straightened my tie, before taking a rubber duck out of a briefcase.
"The Grass is Greener on the Other Side," I declared, and the duck-shaped Portkey whisked me away to America.
The magical transportation dropped me off on the roof of a building, and I squinted a bit as the bright noon sun beamed down on me. I made my way off the roof and down a couple floors, before opening a door to an office.
"Good afternoon," I said politely to the witch sitting behind a desk. "I'm Edward Rose, here to speak with Carmichael Bluegrass."
"Yes, sir, of course," the secretary said politely, typing something into her typewriter before pulling out some documents. "He will see you now."
I tipped my hat to her in thanks and walked on through, heading deeper into the office, fighting to keep a smile off my face at the name of the Greengrass's branch family.
Today, I was not in New Orleans, but rather New York City, specifically a building located within the magical district of the city. Here, some of the companies that did business in the MaCUSA had offices, and one of these was for the Greengrass family owned Greengrass Sundries.
It was run by a branch family of the UK based Greengrasses, the amusingly named Bluegrasses, and I was meeting with Cyrus' cousin. The main thing was to discuss a deal that would let Avalon Industries take our first steps into both the magical and mundane markets of the New World.
I wanted warehouses and farmland. I needed access to docks, shipping yards, and the Panama Canal, as well as space to build magi-tech factories and alchemical recycling facilities.
I sought to set up ranches and greenhouses for producing magical ingredients. I desired to expand across North America and make my products and services household names, used by everyone and anyone regardless of their magical status.
Of course, that was all going to take a lot of time and effort to obtain. Odds were I wouldn't be able to get any of this in the first meeting. But I had a good feeling about it all the same. My Rune Dice had given me very positive readings on Carmichael Bluegrass, and a foot in the door here would led to more doors opening in the future.
And speaking of meetings, I came to stop in front of a door and knocked on it, a spell causing it to swing open. Taking the invitation, I stepped inside and spared a quick glance about.
The office was a bit bigger than the waiting room out front, and had a very Old World style to it, with rich wood paneling and furnishings, and plenty of decorations that looked like they came straight out of a catalog catering to Old Money families.
However, the man behind the big solid oak desk was definitely not what somebody would expect when they saw the office.
Carmichael Bluegrass was in his late forties and was dressed like a stereotypical American as portrayed by European media: big white cowboy hat, real leather cowboy boots with golden spurs kicked up on top of the desk, leather chap pants over a pair of blue jeans, and a white button-up Western wear shirt that had a white leather jacket thrown over the back of his chair. Last but certainly not least, a snakeskin belt with a big golden buckle.
"Howdy," he said in a thick Texan accent with an amused grin as I stared at him.
"Howdy," I said back, still stunned by his appearance. How exactly was this man related to Cyrus Greengrass, the prim and proper Pureblood?
But then I realized! He was doing a bit! Playing a role!
"Oh, you almost got me, Mister Carmichael Bluegrass," I told him. "How many Pureblood businessmen and women fall prey to your little trick?"
He snorted and took his feet off his desk and his grin became smug. "So many," he replied. "They all see me and think I'm a chump. Then I rob 'em blind while they think they got the better deal."
"Bloody brilliant is what that is," I said, genuine praise coloring my voice. "I've done the same, you know. They always underestimate me because of my age."
"No doubt," Carmichael said. "I'm surprised at how young you actually are. When Cyrus told me about you, well, I knew you were younger, but not that much!"
I snorted. "I am a bit of an anomaly. But we're not here to talk about how amazing I am. Let us get down to the brass tacks."
I sat down across from him, and the businessman nodded. "I understand you are looking to acquire land here in the States. You want to spread your wings, and for that, you need space. You are working closely with my cousin and have helped him, so I am willing to act as an intermediary between you and the real estate companies. What exactly are you looking for? What do you want?"
"I have a long list," I informed him, and took a thick sheaf of paper from my business briefcase. It contained all of the requirements my different businesses would need. Warehouses, factories, office spaces, the works.
Carmichael took it, raising an eyebrow as he took in the size. "Why don't you give me a summary?"
"I need a lot of everything," I said simply. "But for the purposes of this meeting, I'll only bring up two things: buying land and buildings to construct the facilities I wish to use, and investing into the Greengrass ingredient business here in America."
"For the latter, I have no issues. You'll need to bring it up with Cyrus, though. The former, however, I have some questions. What sort of buildings? How much space? And where?" Carmichael inquired.
I told him. The amount of square footage I desired, as well as the number of warehouses, buildings, and the locations for them, had Carmichael staring at me in disbelief.
"I was under the impression you were in the potion business," the distant member of the Greengrass family said slowly. "What in Merlin's name do you need so many warehouses near docks for? Or the different zoning permits for off-the-grid power sources?"
"Cauldron Remedies is but one of my businesses. I have expanded, and have shipping concerns, stakes in real estate, and waste disposal services. To say nothing of the other industries I am working on getting into."
"I see," Carmichael muttered. He was looking at me differently now. Before, he had given me respect due to my connection with his cousin. Now, though, he saw me as a legitimate businessman.
"Regarding investment opportunities with House Greengrass, I would like to focus on the agricultural and magical ingredient markets," I continued. "So, we'll need to construct farms and greenhouses, and some factories to help process everything will also be needed."
"On that, I fully agree," he told me. "We have a few spots like that already set up in Texas, Louisiana, and Pennsylvania, but they're old and haven't been expanded in a long time."
He paused, and gave me a curious look.
"You know, I've tried for years to convince my cousin to invest more over here, and yet only after getting into business with you did he change his mind," Carmichael said, shaking his head in wonder. "How'd you do it?"
"We both share the same goal," I replied.
"And what exactly is your goal?" Carmichael inquired curiously, leaning forward in his seat.
"Money. Or, rather, the power that comes from money. I see clearly that the world is changing. That magic has much to gain by mixing with the mundane," I explained. "Cyrus can see the same thing."
"Hmm, I think I understand," the branch member of House Greengrass murmured. "But that can't be all. What else are you up to?"
"I'm just preparing for the day that we cannot hide anymore," I stated, and at that Carmichael sat up straighter.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded suspiciously.
"Mr. Bluegrass, you are no fool. After all, you backed the revolutionary forces when, by all rights, you should have backed the Purebloods due to your connections back in Europe. And I believe you did so because you can read the writing on the wall. Surely you can see how quickly the technology of the mundane side has progressed?" I inquired. "You aren't like the Purebloods overseas. You've lived here your whole life, and you don't spend all your time hiding away in the magical enclaves."
"You're talking about Breach Theory," he said, all but hissing it out.
"Is that what you call it here?" I hummed. "Not a bad name for it. I've been referring to it as the Unveiling. But yes. I'm a dab hand at Arithmancy and Divination, and I predict in a mere decade or so that there will be evidence of magic circulating on that newfangled internet thing. People will take pictures of us. Videos. And through sheer numbers some will slip through. We cannot contain every instance. There simply aren't enough Obliviators in the world! The mundane people will see through our wards, and the Purebloods running the ICW member states will not act until it is too late."
"Cyrus did not seem to believe in it…" Carmichael muttered.
"He might not. He just sees the chance for profits in an untapped market. But I do see, Mr. Bluegrass. And that is what I am doing. Buying. Selling. And creating, all so I can control things when it does come to light," I explained.
I waved a hand. "If we do not act now, then super-massive mundane corporations will swoop in once they know about magic. They will try to buy up magical resources without understanding it. They'll try to exploit it. And in doing so, strangle it to death. But! These corporations cannot act if there is already somebody who owns most of the important things. They might be able to muscle out mom and pop shops or small, independently owned farms and ranches, but not a financial juggernaut like Avalon Industries will become, or what Gladstone Financial currently is."
"That…" he stammered. "That is rather… ambitious."
"It is. But it is necessary," I claimed. "We have at least ten years to establish trade unions, worker's unions, environmental conservation efforts, and to set-up laws and regulations for the purchase and sale of magical resources. We must unite the small farms and shops into co-ops so they can weather the might of the mega-corps, ensure we set good and proper precedent on how magical goods can be used, made, and sold, and create limits on how much we take so we do not abuse or deplete the gifts of magic. Otherwise, the magical world will be snuffed out and consumed by the mundane."
I spread my arms wide. "And to that end, we need money and power. Both to set up everything, but also to influence politicians and government officials to see things our way, within both the magical and mundane communities. That way, we will be able to ensure the two sides can eventually learn to coexist."
Carmichael sat there, staring at me with wide eyes.
"You… are you sure you're only twenty?" he asked incredulously.
"I've had a lot of time to think about this," I replied with a tiny smirk, before becoming more somber. "Now that you know what my ultimate desires are for the future, what do you say? Shall we work together?"
"I think so," Carmichael nodded. "I certainly see why Cyrus has such respect for you."
"I'm glad he thinks so highly of me," I commented, somewhat flattered.
"Hm. Indeed. Well, I shall look over your… proposals and see how I can best help you," Carmichael said, glancing at the thick booklet full of numbers and data I'd given him. "I may have to bring in other specialists, though."
"That's fine, so long as they can get things done," I replied easily.
Carmichael nodded, looking a little relieved, and he bobbed his head. "Now, was there anything else?"
I shook my head, and he offered me his hand to shake. He had a firm grasp, and when he let go, he seemed invigorated.
"Haven't had a chance to stretch my legs like this in a while," he claimed as he picked up my documents. "I'll get back to you on this."
"The contact information is included within, on page two," I let him know.
When he flipped to that page, his eyes widened. "I… is this address…"
"Yes, it's the Ruby Manor," I confirmed.
"How did you get your hands on the Flamel's estate?" Carmichael demanded in disbelief.
"I met them once. They were very impressed with my drive and ideas," I replied dryly, a smirk slipping onto my face.
He stared at me, before shaking his head. "Well, if I wasn't convinced you were a man of mystery and importance before, this certainly would have."
He then offered me a hand to shake once more, and I took it. We shook on the deal we'd be working on together, and I had a feeling I'd made a new ally in my mission to save the world.
111 &&& 111
After my successful meeting with Mr. Bluegrass and having Sir Briar on my side, I expected things to be relatively smooth sailing for the foreseeable future.
I should have known that things would change, though. I can't have nice things.
"Alright, explain to me why I have to wake up so early on a Monday?" I requested, raising my mug of black tea to my lips. I only drank the stuff when I needed to wake up, and having a meeting with Merula Snype at six fifteen in the morning was not something easy to do.
I was sitting across from Merula in her office at the Potion Research Warehouse, and she fidgeted at her desk.
"It's two things, I'm afraid," Merula said with a grimace. "First off is something that's annoying but can thankfully be fixed with money."
"Is it an issue with the equipment?" I inquired.
"Yup. The potion vats are troublesome to clean. A Scourgify or two makes cauldrons good to go, and the really tough stains and potion messed can get Vanished, but these vats are too big and need a lot of heavy duty spellwork to fully cleanse," Merula said. "It hasn't been that much of a problem, but those of us with wands are going to have to spend a lot more time doing nothing but clean-up if you keep expanding without figuring out a solution."
"Right. And you can't use water to clean up potion spills or residue because that just dilutes them and can have odd reactions," I muttered, seeing the problem.
If I used regular water to wash out the vats, there was a chance some potion residue, even diluted, would stick around in the water, and if washed down into the sewers, well, who knew what would happen if something like a Hair Growth potion splashed onto a rat? We'd be overrun by fluffy rats, that's what!
Some potion stains couldn't be cleaned with magic, though, and needed to be mixed with stuff like sand, acid, or even blood to get rid of. But there were a few ways to handle this situation.
"I can work on creating some objects with Scourgify and Vanishing runes to make magical items that do the spell for us," I said after thinking it over. The runes would be triggered by the latent magic inside the potions, so the people with wands wouldn't have to waste their time constantly cleaning the vats.
"Oh! Smart!" Merula praised.
"Now, the other issue?" I inquired.
She coughed and looked a bit nervous. "So, one of my friends contacted me recently… and they said we need to look out for, uh, people who might be snooping around."
"Snooping…?" I muttered to myself. "Who would be snooping?"
"Uh, you know how I kinda, sorta, did things back in school?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes, I am aware of how you ended up in a cult trying to overthrow the Ministry," I drawled.
"Right. Well, some people at the Ministry haven't forgotten, either, so there may be Aurors coming around at some point to try and catch me doing something illegal?" Merula warned me.
I blinked, then sighed and ran a hand over my face. 'I should have expected this,' I thought with an annoyed grunt.
Of course Merula would still be on Ministry watch lists after her involvement in a plot to brainwash the Minister and a bunch of other people. She was, technically, a criminal, even if she got off on a technicality and due to eventually turning against the other plotters.
"This friend of yours… they work in ROCC, don't they?" I inquired, and she nodded.
ROCC, or to be more precise, the Rare, Obscure, and Confounding Case Division was a branch of the Ministry of Magic that dealt with problems that even magic couldn't easily solve. They worked closely with the Aurors and Obliviators, even if they weren't part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
'And the main character of the Hogwarts Mystery games would end up working for them. That must be who Merula's friend is,' I guessed.
"Alright, that… yeah, that's no good," I said aloud. "If the Aurors catch a whiff of what we're doing here, it could turn into a major problem."
"Yeah. How do we prevent that?" Merula asked anxiously. "Because I really like this job, boss. The pay is great and the chance to experiment with potions all day… it's like a dream come true!"
"For now, as far as the Aurors know, I own a potion business. Let's keep that illusion going. If anyone does come snooping around here, let's try to make sure they think this is the only building that exists. Don't visit any of the other labs or warehouses for a while. Not until we know for certain what will happen next."
"Yeah, that's a good idea," she agreed with a nod. "Don't wanna tip 'em off or anything."
I nodded back, while feeling a twinge of worry. The Ministry was full of problematic people, and while Remus had Madam Bones' ear, that wouldn't help me much if somebody investigated my actions too closely.
'I can try to bribe them,' I thought to myself.
Under Minister Fudge, bribery was pretty much the go-to way to get rid of problems. But there was also the issue of my Squib status. Even if I'd used the Flamel's ritual on myself, as far as the Ministry cared, I was a second-class citizen at best.
Even if they did accept my bribes, there was nothing keeping them from just turning around and turning me in. I would need to come up with some ways to solve this problem.
'Should I ask Greengrass for help?' I wondered to myself as I left the office.
I didn't like the idea of doing so. That would put too much strain on our relationship. We were supposed to be equal partners, but relying on Cyrus to get me out of trouble with the Aurors could skew that relationship and give him too much leverage over me.
No, unless absolutely necessary, I would have to protect myself with my own efforts. I just prayed to God and Merlin I wouldn't have to take too many more actions that might compromise my morals in order to achieve my goals.
Chapter 87: Chapter 87: Cops on the Prowl
Chapter Text
Chapter 87: Cops on the Prowl
Thanks to Merula's warnings, I was able to set up a couple of plans for the eventuality of Aurors showing up.
First of all, I got rid of most of the wards surrounding my research warehouse. Yes, that was risky, but you know what's even riskier? Having high-quality wards that professional wardmasters would nod in approval of. For a mere Squib to have anything like that, it would be absurd. Hopefully I wouldn't need them for the next couple of weeks, but it made me nervous all the same.
The next thing I did was request for my security teams to avoid the area unless contacted by one of the workers at the warehouse – or the wards alerted them. I didn't know how deep the racism and bigotry went, but it went pretty deep all the same, and having werewolves and vampires out in the open would not do me any favors.
Finally, I moved anything 'Muggle' out of the warehouse. No need to really make it obvious that I was dealing with the mundane world.
I was also highly grateful for the fact that the potion labs in the research building all looked like regular wizarding potion rooms, just like you'd find in Diagon Alley: brass and pewter cauldrons, mortars and pestles, jars full of weird, unknown things in them on shelves while the whole place was lit by candles or enchanted lamps… it looked nothing like the nice and clean production facilities with rune-etched stainless steel mixing vats and people in white protective gear.
'Plus, Merula's added her own touch to the place, making it even more magical and resembling a potioneer's workspace,' I thought. She'd brought her own supplies and equipment, and set it up in a corner of the warehouse as her personal laboratory.
Silently praying that the Auror's wouldn't show up, but knowing in my heart they would, I headed to class at Oxford. I would be done soon, but there were still plenty of essays and exams to go before I could receive my diploma.
My happy thoughts didn't last that long, though. When I finished my classes for the morning, I felt a tug on one of my artifacts tied to the wards around the research lab.
With a frown, I slipped away to the bathroom. Once I was in a stall and out of sight of anyone, I took out a handkerchief from my pocket and muttered "Smelly Poprocks."
The Portkey whisked me away to my office in the docks, and I strode out to find my employees.
"Boss, boss! There's an Auror here!" Merula said nervously when she spotted me walking down the hallway towards her workspace. "He wants to see you!"
"Yes, so it seems," I said. "Hang back for now."
My Potion Mistress nodded nervously and steeped aside, letting me past so I could get to the entrance of the warehouse.
The Auror standing out front was a middle-aged man with only a few wrinkles around the eyes to show his age. Knowing how wizards aged, he could be anywhere from forty to seventy years old, but I estimated he was on the lower end given he was here in person. An older Auror likely wouldn't show up in person unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Good morning," I said, trying not to sound annoyed at his presence here. "How can I help you?"
"Mr. Hunch, was it?" he inquired, taking out a cigar and lighting it with his wand. "I'm Auror Kipper."
"Mr. Rose, actually," I replied, correcting the name he'd used.
The Auror raised an eyebrow at that. "I see. Well, in any case, I am here because of some… complaints."
"What complaints? I'm afraid you must be mistaken," I replied. "I've received nothing of the sort."
"I do not know why these matters weren't brought up to you in person, but I am not here to answer that in the first place. I am merely here, as a courtesy, to give you a warning," Kipper said, before blowing out a bit of smoke in my direction.
"Sir, look around you," I drawled. "This is a potion's workshop in the middle of an abandoned warehouse district. Who could possibly be making complaints about me? The rats? Or perhaps the pigeons?"
At that, Kipper snorted, and he rolled his eyes. "These complaints are not about your choice of… locale, nor from any neighbors, but rather, a more pertinent one regarding your business conduct."
"I apologize, sir, but how has my conduct with my potion business earned any complaints?" I asked, wondering what their angle was. How would they be trying to influence me and force my hand?
"Are you aware that there are laws against monopolies in the potion making business, Mr. Hunch?"
"Monopolies?" I uttered incredulously, while trying not to react to him calling me 'Hunch.'
"Quite. You see, by purchasing potion ingredients from the Greengrasses, then selling directly to Greengrass affiliated stores, you are creating what is known as a 'monopoly.' This is illegal, because the Ministry prefers a free market approach to businesses, especially an essential one such as potioneering," Kipper said, talking down to me like I didn't know a core component of economics.
"People are upset… because I am buying ingredients from the Greengrasses, and then selling the potions back to them?" I inquired. That was not what I'd thought the Ministry would believe I was doing.
I mean, there was no way they'd be giving me the soft approach if they knew what I was actually doing, but I found it odd they thought I was doing something with the Greengrasses.
'Unless… they think it's a money laundering scheme,' I guessed.
To whoever was looking at my business, it must have seemed like I 'bought' things from the Greengrasses, then 'sold' the potions to them. The Greengrasses would pocket the profits from this and resell my products, perhaps under the table since there was no evidence that the market was being flooded with cheap potions.
As I was thinking all of that, Kipper continued on, unaware or perhaps uncaring of my internal thoughts.
"There's also a slight issue with your head of brewing," the Auror claimed. "A one Merula Snype."
"I admit, I was hesitant about hiring a person who was previously a waitress at the Hog's Head, but she's proven to be an integral part of my operations here," I told him smoothly. "I have absolutely no complaints about her."
"I see. Mr. Hunch, are you aware she has been blacklisted from working in any capacity with potions?" Kipper asked me.
"I was not aware of that," I said slowly, trying to make it seem like I truly had been unaware. "She did not inform me of this. Good thing she doesn't work with potions at all. She oversees things here. As an administrator. Not a brewer."
"But her title is 'head of brewing,'" the Auror pointed out.
"She is the head of the brewers, yes. She is in charge of keeping them in line. No touching any cauldrons for her."
'Acting classes, don't fail me now!' I thought to myself, urgently pleading with the man to leave my excuses be.
Auror Kipper tilted his head to the side, clearly not believing me at all.
"Mr. Hunch, I will need to inspect your workshop, to make sure that it is up to spec, and that Ms. Snype is not handling any potions or their byproducts."
"Afraid I can't let you do that," I replied, folding my arms. "It's a potion's lab. Full of volatile liquids. Can't risk a man who knows little about the procedures we use here."
"I'll have you know I received Exceeds Expectations in my Potion OWLs," the Auror scowled.
"And does that make you qualified to judge the safety of my workshop?" I retorted. I knew it didn't. "Under Code 12 of the Potion Safety Act, you need an official, licensed Potion Master to conduct a safety inspection and investigation on any properly licensed potioneering lab. And I am, in fact, properly licensed."
A neat little trick of bureaucracy, really. I'd slipped a couple galleons to a clerk or two and gotten my paperwork slotted into a couple different places, and had Sirius and Harry lean on a few people to get it all squared away properly. Far as anyone knew, I was completely legit.
Normally, a Squib like myself would never be able to get something like that from the Ministry, but with bribes and the backing of Harry Potter, Sirius Black, and the Greengrass family, a lot of things were possible.
Of course, just because I had the paperwork didn't mean the Auror here wouldn't be above ignoring it all and fabricating some excuse, so I pulled out a galleon and tossed it his way.
"Perhaps you should come back when you have that Potion Master," I suggested, and he took the coin before nodding.
"That would be for the best," Kipper replied, before Aparating away.
'That's taken care of. Now I have to find a way to get these monkeys off my back,' I thought.
Any Potion Master that Kipper brought with him for the inspections would likely be in on the scam the Auror was trying to pull off, so I couldn't count on him being unbiased and even-handed in his review of the workshop.
Both would likely have to end up bribed, and I mentally began to tally up how many people I'd need to pass money to under the table before this issue went away.
The answer I came to was 'far too many.' Even a single person taking a bribe was too many for my taste, because they'd always come back for more later on, thinking they had you by the balls.
Unfortunately, there was no real way to deal with them easily. Unless I was willing to take extreme measures, the Auror would remain a problem for a while.
'For now, I have to play along,' I decided as I walked back into the warehouse to let Merula and the others know it was safe to relax. For now. But I'd really need something to help me out sooner rather than later.
111 &&& 111
At quarter past six, I pulled up to a pub, looking it over as I parked in a free spot nearby. It seemed like a nice and cozy place, great for having fun times with friends. Which was exactly why I was there, in fact.
'I need this,' I thought to myself as I got out of the car. Between my classes and the Aurors prowling around, my nerves were frayed and I needed the ability to feel normal after so much work.
"Oi, wotcher, Ed," Tonks called out, raising a mug towards me.
"Wotcher, Dora," I replied. "And Sam, good to see ya. You both doing well?"
"The best!" Sam said, raising her own mug. "I got word that the British Baking Battle should be finished with editing and everything, then I can get my prize!"
I nodded. I'd almost forgotten that he'd participated in a cooking competition earlier in the year. "When can we expect the show to finally air?"
"Well, the recordings and editing for the tryouts is done, so it shouldn't be long now. Gonna take prime time airing for the Summer television season," Sam explained.
I was eager to finally see the show on TV. It took a while for the edits to be made, but I'd underestimated how long the filming and everything would actually take without the more advanced software and such in my old timeline. Here in the 90s, it took a lot longer for things to be recorded and edited.
But we'd soon get to see our loveable chef kicking ass and taking names!
"No Delilah tonight?" Sam asked as I slid into my seat across from the duo.
"Afraid not," I replied with a sigh. "She had a last-minute thing pop up. Her father, or something. Not sure what is up with him, he's been running her ragged for a while."
"He doesn't like the fact she's taking those engineering classes," Sam huffed.
"The success of her hydro-electric generator designs has spurred her creativity," I agreed.
"Sounds like a right bellend that man does," Tonks huffed in disgust.
"He is. Useful, though," I agreed.
"Oh! Before I forget, I need to warn you!" Tonks suddenly spoke up.
"About what?" I asked.
"I heard some people in the office talking about a potions warehouse in the docks getting visited soon by an Auror or two," Tonks warned me. "Only place like that I know of is yours."
"Ah, if you mean Kipper, then we've already met," I said, not bothering to hide my distaste.
"Ugh, that guy," Tonks scowled. "Yeah, he's one of the bad ones. Everyone knows he takes bribes under the table, and it's an open secret that he works for Malfoy, too."
"Malfoy… let me guess, the white-haired arsehole uses Kipper to go after people 'legally,'" I guessed, and Tonks nodded.
"That's right."
"Come on, you two, let's not talk about work, school, or depressing shit right now," Sam requested, her face scrunched up a bit. I shared a look with Tonks and we both nodded.
"Alright, we can do that," I replied. "Come on, then, we should discuss something else: like if you two want to attend a party Delilah and I are throwing next month."
"A party? Sure, that sounds great!" Tonks said.
"What's the occasion?" Sam inquired.
"Her birthday," I said with a grin. "She's gonna have a lot of fun and what-not. Of course, it'd be even better with friends."
I held up a finger. "There's gonna be two separate events. A mundane one, and a magical one. For the latter, I was thinking of inviting Fleur."
"Her French penpal?" Tonks queried.
"Yup. Would you be able to do some catering for her birthday, Sam?" I wondered.
"Sure, that sounds fun. I've got some magical recipes I want to try out," Sam claimed eagerly, a glint of excitement shining in her eyes.
"Great! I know Delilah will be looking forward to it," I said, certain of it.
We chatted a bit more about minor things – and nothing to do with work or school. It was nice to kick back and relax with a pint after the stressful day I'd had, and pretending things were normal.
111 &&& 111
The next day, Auror Kipper returned to the warehouse, as I'd expected he would. The wards alerted me to his arrival and I got up to greet him. At his side was an older gentleman who wore a pair of pince-nez eyeglasses and had greying hair done up in a rat tail.
An odd choice for hairstyle from a man pushing late middle-age, but not something that odd for wizards. He reeked of stale potions and carried himself like a bureaucrat, and there was no doubt the man Kipper was going to use to try and get my operations shut down.
"Ah, Mr. Hunch, good morning," Kipper said, greeting me as I exited the building.
"Auror Kipper," I replied blandly, trying not to get riled up against at my old name being used. Instead, I sent a glance at the gentleman beside him. "And this is the man who will be checking my workshop?"
"Quite. Potion Master Donahue," the man said with a sniff. He didn't even offer me his hand, which irked me a little as well.
"Come on in, then," I said, ushering them inside. "I sent the workers away for the day so you two can have the whole place to yourselves as you 'inspect' everything."
By my tone, it was blatantly clear I didn't believe for one second they were here to do any of that, either, but neither of them called me out on it. Instead, they just swept into the warehouse like they owned the place and began poking their noses everywhere.
"If there is anything I can do to help the process along – anything at all – just let me know," I told Kipper while not so discreetly letting a couple of galleons drop into one of the pockets of his robe.
"Very good. I'm pleased to hear that you have some semblance of how things are supposed to go," the Auror said in a condescending tone as he patted his now-filled pocket, letting it jangle a bit. I ignored him. He sucked and I hoped he got eaten by a dragon.
'No, wait, death by dragon is too good for him. Puffskeins! Yeah, being eaten by a ravenous horde of Puffskeins sounds a lot more degrading as a way to go,' I thought to himself. And since they only had long tongues like an anteater, such a death would likely be as drawn out as it was humiliating.
"Mr. Hunch, what is this?" Potion Master Donahue called out, drawing my attention, and I turned to see what he was inspecting.
It turned out to be a collection of fans designed to remove any fumes from the area. I'd installed them above the workshop so nobody would choke to death in case a potion exploded. And since this was where the experimental stuff was made, it was a wise decision. Only had to be used twice so far, but it'd saved lives both times.
"Ah, that? Those are Scent Suction magic tools. The Vietnamese use them to remove bad smells from an area without interfering with the potions. As you no doubt know, some potions can be finicky, so no spells can be cast around them, but they make a rather rank smell. Don't want the Muggles to come sniffing around, eh?" I lied through my teeth.
They weren't magical at all, they were perfectly normal electricity powered exhaust fans. But I doubted the man would like that answer, so I made up some Mooncalf droppings about Vietnamese mages. He probably had never seen a Vietnamese person in his life, and likely knew even less due to the isolated nature of magical communities.
"Ah, yes, that's what I assumed they were," Donahue blustered, pretending to know what the heck I was saying and inadvertently going along with my lie.
"You must be a truly skilled potioneer to recognize such obscure Oriental magic," I praised back-handedly.
He preened a little and moved on to another part of the workshop, checking the ingredient stockroom next.
"Hmm, you are well organized," Donahue hummed, checking the labels on a glass specimen jar. It had the name of the ingredient suspended within, the date it was obtained, and the date it would no longer be viable to be used in potions. It also included, in color coded dots, the different danger levels of the substances.
Red dot meant restricted materials that could be lethal if handled incorrectly, yellow was ingredients that needed very specific preparation methods, and green dots meant you'd have to be an idiot to harm yourself with it, or screw up the prep for it.
I also included a numerical code on all of the labels so, if somebody needed to use, say, three Grade-2 newt tails, they simply wrote down '3x NT-2' on the requisition forms. It improved the speed at which we did bureaucracy by a fair bit.
"Do you have receipts for everything?" Donahue inquired. "And the certification necessary for some of these products?"
"I certainly do," I replied with a smug smirk, taking some papers out of a pocket to wave in his face. He took them, blinked, paled a little and coughed awkwardly.
"Well… good. Good! Everything is in order," he stammered, handing them back.
Kipper only got a brief glimpse over Donahue's shoulder, but even he could only grimace as he saw the Greengrass name and seal upon my receipts and on the certificates I'd gotten to authorize my ownership and use of them in making potions.
"May we have a moment?" the Auror requested, putting a hand on the Potion Master's shoulder and steering him away to have a private conversation.
Curious, I twisted a ring I wore, and felt my ears tingle a little as my hearing sharpened to be something closer to superhuman than it was before.
"Are we going to have a problem, here?" Kipper whispered furiously at Donahue.
"N-no, we shouldn't," the older man denied.
"Because if he actually has the backing of the Greengrasses and this isn't some minor scheme like I was led to believe-!"
"If he truly does, then they, or one of their agents, would have already been here to meet with us," Donahue replied, becoming a bit more confident. "The Squib has a business agreement with the Greengrasses. That's all this is."
"You better hope you are right," the Auror hissed, before stomping back.
I undid my ring's enchantment, my hearing returning to normal. "Is everything alright?" I inquired.
"Yes," Kipper replied curtly. "Now, Potion Master, let us finish the inspection."
The older man nodded and the trio went through the building once more, until they'd seen everything, and Donahue was finally able to tell me the final results.
"So, how was it?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be already.
"Hmm… While your organization skills are decent, I'm afraid that the rest of your workshop does not meet the minimum requirements of safety set by the Ministry," the Potion Master claimed, and I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
I knew that was a lie. My safety standards for the research lab were better than typical safety procedures used by potioneers in the Wizarding World.
"Yes, that could be a problem," I said slowly, letting none of my skepticism leak out. "I will endeavor to get that corrected if you could provide me a list of what needs correcting."
"Ah, yes," Donahue replied, not having expected that. Why? Had he assumed I would just take him at his word and then do nothing if there had been actual problems? What an idiot.
"Now, while I'm sure you'd want me to 'close down' for a few days to 'assess the safety' of my workshop, I'm sure we can come to some other arrangement," I said, and two pouches of gold coins were slipped onto the table. I wasn't really being subtle about it.
'I know why you are really here,' was what I was saying without actually doing so. 'So take the money and leave.'
"I'll check back in a month," Kipper said, pocketing his bribe. "I hope your safety has improved by then."
'Oh, so you're going to try and extort me on a monthly basis, is that it?' I thought, narrowing my eyes at the Auror. 'I am going to enjoy crushing you when I can.'
However, I simply nodded, and gestured at the two that they may leave my property already. Both men left, Apparating away, and I folded my arms with a scowl. I was frustrated, and quite annoyed.
'I cannot allow them to dictate terms for me for longer than a year,' I thought. 'And that means I need a way to deal with both of those scumbags.'
Could I get the Aurors to investigate one of their own, I wondered? But some more thought made that a bad idea. If they did so, they'd likely discover that I was one of the people bribing him, and while I could spin it as being extorted, it could bring too many unpleasant eyes onto me.
'I need somebody powerful on the side of the law to help me out,' I thought bitterly.
Honestly, I already had a candidate in mind: Madam Bones. But she took certain oaths, and even if she was dating Remus I didn't know if she'd be willing to listen to me or work with a criminal like myself.
'If I could provide irrefutable proof that my actions are for the benefit of the Magical World, then perhaps she could be brought over to our side,' I mused. 'Or maybe… Voldemort could be useful for that. If I can prove to Madam Bones he is still alive, and that he is still a threat, maybe I could ease her into the rest of things I've been doing and preparing for.'
Having her join the little secret society I was building would be helpful in the long run. Not only because of her status, but also due to her relationship with Remus. I liked the werewolf, and I also knew he really liked Madam Bones, and that keeping all of this from her would slowly but surely begin eating at him, especially once we got closer to certain… events, like the World Cup, Tri-Wizard Tournament, and the return of Voldemort.
'Though I wonder how he plans on doing his resurrection this time?' I wondered to himself, returning to the office to think and plot.
I strongly believed he would use the same ritual from the books to come back. It was simply too convenient for him, as the material components were fairly ease to source, aside from whatever went into making the base potion.
To that end, I'd already had a team set up in Little Hangleton to observe the area. All they knew was that it was a potential Death Eater gathering site, so they knew to keep an eye on anything 'weird' happening nearby, and it let me watch over the evil shed where the Deathly Hallow and potentially final Horcrux was, and ensure that if somebody did move into the old Riddle Manor and graveyard, I'd know.
'And now that I'm thinking about it… Sirius, Remus, Harry and I really need to decide what we're going to do about this,' I thought with a grimace.
Do we let Voldemort return to a body so it would be easier to gather up his followers and kill them all in one fell swoop? Or did we just end the threat right now by eliminating his final Horcrux and then blasting him and Crouch Jr. the moment they return to England?
I just didn't know what to choose. I knew Remus and Sirius were against the first option because it put Harry too close to danger. Even if Harry didn't get his name thrown into the Goblet of Fire by a disguised Death Eater he would still be at risk as one of the main components for the ritual.
Oh, sure, Voldemort could use any old 'enemy' for the ritual, but the snake-faced git was a damned dramatic edgelord. He'd choose Harry for the symbolism if nothing else.
However, Harry and I both rather liked the first plan for a couple reason. Harry didn't mind putting himself into danger if it meant we could eliminate dozens of Death Eaters in a single go, and we had ways to extract him if it got too hot. And I really wanted to plant a bunch of C4 beneath some graves and then blow it all up when Lucius Malfoy and the other scum-suckers appeared.
Of course, that all hinged on Voldemort following the books, and after having distorted Fate by removing the Horcrux early and resolving the prophecy well before the original timeline, we had no clue if he'd do it exactly like that anymore, so the second option just might be safer all around since it was something we could do right now.
'Damn it,' I groaned, putting my head into my hands in frustration. 'Why can't this be easy?'
For a moment I sat at my desk like that, before deciding to test my luck. I reached into the velvet bag containing my runic dice bones and grabbed seven at random before tossing them onto the table. They clattered about and I closed my eyes as I focused intently on what I wanted to know.
'Come on,' I pleaded to myself and whatever spirits or deities might be listening. 'Tell me what I need to do in order to keep Harry safe.'
When the dice finally stopped making noise I opened my eyes and looked down at the quintet of polished knucklebones.
'Flowing water,' I read off the first dice, the symbol depicting a river.
'Crossroads,' was what I saw the second dice's symbol meant.
The runes of Ice and Death appeared for the third and fourth die, while runes for Fire, the World, and the Tree of Yggsdrasil could be found on dice five, six, and seven.
Taking it all in, my mind quickly parsed the information and came up with the following bit of prophecy:
'The original path has split. Two choices lie ahead of you. The Path of Ice will ensure as little blood as possible is spilled, but nothing changes. The Path of Fire will spread chaos to the world, but the ashes will grow something greater.'
It was vague, like all such matters of Divination. Yet I was able to piece together a bit of it.
The Path of Ice was the first option, of letting Voldemort revive himself and then using that moment to kill all the Death Eaters he gathered. But doing so would ensure nothing would actually change afterwards. Bigots would remain in power. Evil would continue to dwell in the hearts of men and women of the British Isles as they'd want to keep their heads in the sand.
The other choice was the Path of Fire. It was eliminating the Horcrux now, and causing Voldemort some sort of setback without eliminating his allies in Britain. Such a thing would lead to a war, one that would drag in all of Magical Europe. And just like Ragnarök, the war would provide a chance for the rot within the magical society to be cleansed by fire, and ensure something new, something better, would emerge afterwards.
With a groan I swept the dice back into their bag. This… this was big. I needed to tell the others about this.
'Why couldn't I just have dealt only with corrupt Aurors?' I wondered to myself with a mental whine. Damn Riddle Junior, making more work for me to deal with it!
Chapter 88: Chapter 88: Solutions to Problems
Chapter Text
Chapter 88: Solutions to Problems
"Thank you for coming over to help, Edward," my mother said, wearing a faint smile on her face as she dug through several old chests.
"Sure, it's no problem," I replied as I sifted through a wardrobe full of robes that'd fallen out of fashion three hundred years ago.
Mother had wanted to do a bit of late Spring Cleaning in Lumpkin Patch before Rudy came home from Hogwarts, and I'd wanted to spend some time with her after only a few brief interactions at New Years and Easter, so here I was, on a weekend in May, looking through old odds and ends that'd been gathering dust for untold generations.
Inky could have done it – and he'd already done a lot – but there were some things we had to look through personally, to decide whether or not to keep any of it.
Magical Families tended to be hoarders for a couple different reasons, so we had plenty to go through. And the boxes and crates around us were a fraction of everything the Hunches had collected over the many, many years.
'You can almost see the progression of the family's fortunes in these piles,' I thought to myself as I browsed the items.
The oldest items were of a higher quality than the rest. You knew by looking at them the Hunch family had been Old Money. And we had been around for nine hundred years or so. Our family traced its lineage to a Norman mage in William the conqueror's court, who'd been given land in Ottery St. Catchpole when old Bill had crowned him King of England. Apparently, my ancestor's magic had helped the ships cross the English Channel safely.
Also, another fun fact, but the Norman invasion and conquest is what spurred the creation of Hogwarts! Over a hundred thousand people (both magical and mundane) were displaced or fled to Scotland when William came a-knocking, Gryffindor and Slytherin being two of them. The former was a noble and part of Harold Godwinson's court and thus on the losing side, while Slytherin… well, records are sparse, but he seems to have just been a regular dude living in London who lost his home to the invaders.
Which, honestly, explained why he didn't exactly like Muggles, and also why Hogwarts ended up being built in the hinterlands of Scotland and not near any major population center, like Beauxbatons being near Paris.
As for the Hunches, we were properly made into magical nobility around three hundred years later in 1389 A.D., which was when the Wizengamot really started to take off. It had first been formed in 1212, but didn't get popular until a century later.
However, in the 18th century, our fortunes changed, and if you knew the timelines, you could tell this was a result of the Statute of Secrecy. After it was established, the 1700s were a downward spiral for the Hunches as we had previously used our magic for magical landscaping and construction. Our name, Hunch, was related to the hills we used to conjure with magic.
Without being able to sell our services to the wealthy Muggles who'd been our biggest customers, our fortunes dwindled, leading to our current status as Pureblooded nobles without a seat on the Wizengamot, or any real land or wealth of note.
Still, we had kept a crap-ton of antiques. Why anyone needed a stuffed Mooncalf, a painting of fruit that made you hungry when you looked at it, or a morbid Butterfly-esque collection of Doxies was beyond me, but there was some cool stuff hidden amongst the junk.
"Mother, do you want this?" I asked her, holding up a red and silver dress.
"Oh, no, dear. You can give it to Delilah if you want," she told me, and I nodded gratefully before setting it aside.
I honestly wanted the dress for the runes that'd been woven it: an enchantment designed to turn the clothing it was applied to impervious to stains of any kind. The dress also had an ingenious way to disguise the runic arrays amongst the lace, and I knew Hildegarde would be interested. Though I supposed Delilah would also like it when the dwarf was done studying the runes.
In the pile of stuff I was taking for myself were some more unicorn horn potion stirrers, a collection of cutlery made of dragon bone, a pair of Manticore leather boots, a writing quill made from an actual Pegasus feather (not an Abraxan, which was like comparing dogs to wolves), six enchanted goblets that purified any harmful substances put into them, several interesting pieces of magical jewelry that I wanted to study more closely, a magical portrait of cute baby animals playing together that created an aura of peace and tranquility in whomever viewed it, and a bunch of books, including some that detailed old family potion recipes, botany guides, and instructions on magical creature husbandry, as well as family secrets regarding magical architecture and landscaping.
The books were definitely going to be useful as I expanded into North America with my businesses, and the rest of the stuff was going to look very nice in my penthouse apartment.
'The place will be ready before Harry comes back for the summer!' I thought happily. 'He's going to love his new bedroom!'
I moved on from the wardrobe to a wooden chest that looked like something pirates would fill with treasure and then bury. I paused as I lifted aside couple of old top hats, and found a book staring back at me. The cover was some kind of leather, but what really caught my eye were the precious gems set into it, along with the gold and silver chains binding it and keeping the pages closed.
The tome seemed old. Really, really old! But the magic preserving it was also incredibly potent, and I carefully extracted it from the bottom of the chest.
Looking at the chains, I carefully prodded them with a finger, and they glowed a little before snapping apart, allowing me to access the contents of the tome. Curious, I opened it up, and found myself graced with page after page of colored ink. It was closer to an illuminated medieval manuscript than the grimoire I'd expected, and the little pictures in the corners and margins were moving around.
'This isn't paper, this is vellum!' I realized in shock as I ran a finger over the slightly yellowed pages. This was ancient! So old, in fact, that even the preservation spells hadn't been able to keep it fully untouched by the passage of time.
Now thoroughly intrigued, I began to read, and found it contained a bunch of Latin and Old English. Yet the further in I went, the more the words changed, becoming Middle English and then Early Modern!
I flipped all the way to the end, and found perfectly legible – if still a bit old – English detailing that somebody called 'Jerome' had tried to plant some mistletoe trees on 'their' side of the boundary line.
'Let's see what else is here… ah, here's an entry about a woman named 'Witherspoon' who is having an affair with the heir of Sandwich… wait? As in, the Earl of Sandwich?' I wondered in surprise. 'And hang on, here's a page that just talks about a fellow named 'Dellson' who bought eight jars of premium honey from… Lumpkin Patch Apiaries? We used to own bees?'
I read some more, curious about everything, and soon came to a realization: this was a journal! And not just any journal, but a diary written in by every single member of House Hunch, dating back to before even the Norman invasion!
Gossip… rumors… business transaction data… and perhaps most importantly, blackmail material. So much blackmail material!
'Oh-ho-ho! Someone was being very naughty, weren't they, Lord Cruxis Nott?' I thought with a sinister grin. 'To think that your family made their fortune by illegally poaching unicorns! Oh, if this came out now, they'd string up the entire Nott family and purge them from the Rolls of Nobility!'
It did explain where all the unicorn horn stirring sticks came from, though. They were the price for my ancestor, Tarbelion Hunch, keeping his mouth shut. So much dirty laundry help within this book! So much information that would gut the Pureblood faction.
After all, the Parkinsons would never want the truth that the Lord had married a Muggleborn in 1897, and simply fabricated her birth status by claiming she was a disowned bastard child from a Romanian Pureblood house! If this came out, they would lose their vaunted 'Pureblood' status amongst their peers.
I quickly added the journal to the pile. This was probably the most important object in the entire house! And it had been lying under a bunch of hats, forgotten for decades if not centuries!
'How can I take advantage of this, though?' I thought to myself. I'd have to research it, see what was hidden within.
There were a lot of old rules nobody really followed anymore but were still technically on the books and thus still considered official. These Dead Letter Laws could still be of use. After all, magically enforced laws operated differently.
I thought about how Malfoy had been trying to snipe the Greengrasses through some taxes, and I wondered if there was a method for me to help my allies out.
Then, I recalled how a couple Aurors and Ministry goons were sniffing around me as well. They seemed to think that all these potion ingredient purchases were some sort of scam or money laundering scheme.
'Hm. I might have need of this sooner than I expected,' I thought to myself. 'Better get it to my lawyers.'
They should be able to look through it and figure out what sort of legal defenses I could muster in case I couldn't bribe or mind-wipe the problems away.
'Boy, I'm really starting to get used to using underhanded means to keep my secrets,' I realized with a pang.
A month ago, I'd been stressing over using potions to drug an old man. Now here I was thinking about how to best get rid of problematic government officials who were only doing their jobs!
'I'm going to have to keep an eye on myself,' I thought with a grimace. I did not want to become another Dumbledore, no matter how much better I'd be at it.
Instead, I shook those ideas out of my head, and picked up another item from the sorting pile, and held it up to my mother. "Hey, mom, do you want this charcuterie board that makes it impossible for cheese to get stuck in the wood? Because if you don't, I will definitely take it!"
111 &&& 111
I sat in a waiting room, resisting the urge to kick my legs like a child. Or jiggle my leg impatiently. The 'tick-tock!' of the clock sounded far too loud in my ears, and I wondered why time seemed to be moving so slowly.
'If only I could replicate this effect on purpose to give myself extra time in the day,' I thought to myself in annoyance.
At my side, Edward Tonks sent me a knowing look. He knew I wanted to get this over with, but I couldn't help it! I was excited and waiting was so annoying!
"Mr. Tarsworth with see you now," the secretary said politely a moment later, ending my torment, and I quickly stood up, gave her a grateful nod, and went inside the office to speak with my lawyer with Mr. Tonks following behind.
"Mr. Rose, Mr. Tonks good to see you," the older Squib said, giving me a small smile. "Especially when there aren't some terrible legal matters hanging over your heads."
"Same," I agreed, shaking his hand. "I appreciate you doing what you could while I was dealing with Sir Briar."
"Of course, you're my client," he said with a nod. "Now, you said you needed a consultation?"
"Of course," I replied. "Mr. Tonks and I wished to speak with you about a couple matters relating to magical law."
"Magical law? I'm afraid I am not experienced in that matter at all," he said, blinking. "Mr. Tonks here would know far more than I."
"True, but your insight would be appreciated, especially as somebody so close to the Squibs as you are," I claimed. "After all, this is what that is about."
He tilted his head, then blinked. "Are you… Ah, I see. You want to see if you can get access to the dead vaults in Gringotts."
"Yes," I nodded. "A lot of magical families were wiped out in both magical wars, and their wealth and possessions were either seized by the Ministry of Magic or the goblins. But, if there were actual heirs…"
"Only magical individuals can inherit magical titles and property," he reminded me.
"But that's no issue with my ritual," I reminded him. Archibald nodded slowly. He had been one of the first people I'd used it on when I was certain it wouldn't hurt to use repeatedly. After all his hard work helping me and others, he deserved it.
"Still, it would be rather suspicious for some unknown magicals – especially those who never attended Hogwarts or were registered to the Ministry – to come out and demand their birthright."
"Which is why we won't be going to the Ministry, but the goblins," I replied. "Their heritage tests don't have to be conveyed to the Ministry. Not if we just want to see if anybody actually can inherit. And for now, that's all we want to do. To check and see if any of the Squibs we know can potentially be used to throw some wrenches into the Ministry's inheritance schemes."
"Won't be easy," Archibald said with thoughtful frown. "And there is also the problem that without knowing the exact laws we cannot be sure the Ministry won't block our attempts in the first place if they catch wind."
"And that is where this baby comes in," I said, nodding to Mr. Tonks who took a certain golden book out of his briefcase and handing it to me.
"Is that…?" Archibald gasped, staring at the book in my hands as if he was seeing a holy relic.
"Yup," I said, popping the 'p' at the end loudly. "A genuine copy of the Laws Immutable, the codified lawbook that contains every single law and legal code ever conceived of by the Wizengamot."
I flipped to a random page, and showed my fellow Squib the royal seal on it. "See? And it's even got an enchantment that updates the book, so any laws that are added or removed automatically get recorded within."
"I never thought I would see a copy myself, let alone hold it," Archibald murmured as he took the book from me. "How do you have one of these?"
"The Noble House of Hunch used to be a lot more important than it is now," I replied. "A significant amount of our power has disappeared, it's true. Apparently around the time of the Statute of Secrecy, to be precise. Seems like my family wasn't prepared for the sudden separation from the muggle world and lost a bunch wealth and influence. But, before that, they were one of the founding members of the original Wizengamot, and thus had the right to keep a copy of its laws. I don't think my father or mother knew we had it, though."
'If father had known, he'd have definitely leveraged it among his Death Eater buddies,' I thought darkly. 'Best that he couldn't abuse it. There are definitely a few laws in there that need to be changed.'
Yet as dangerous as it could have been for the Death Eaters to have a copy of Wizarding Britain's laws, it was just as dangerous in the hands of myself and anyone opposed to them and their pureblood agenda. Because the Laws Immutable wasn't just a catchy name, it referred to a series of laws that could not be changed without the reigning king or queen of England's permission.
The Wizengamot was originally an independent council based on even older Druidic customs that was modified by Merlin himself into forming the basis of the modern Ministry of Magic. Its laws were old and literally untouchable by anyone other than the right and proper sovereign of the land.
After some time, the Wizengamot evolved to become basically Magical Britain's version of the House of Lords. Even the position of Chief Warlock was originally that of the Court Magician, meaning they answered directly to whomever sat on the throne.
One law I'd found was a simple one: any citizen had the right to request a heritage test to see who they were related to. This mostly applied to orphans, bastards, and if people were trying to settle disputes over who could inherit when the line of succession wasn't clear.
We could use it to get the goblins to test the Squibs and see if any of them were related to any nobles houses, alive or extinct, and there was nothing the Ministry could do about it.
And there was one other law among the Laws Immutable that could be used to crush the Death Eaters using their own backwards legal system.
This law in particular was part of the Crowne and Kith Code, which stated that magical citizens were not above the law of the mundane world. There was a lot of legal jargon, but it boiled down to, 'if a magical person uses magic to kill someone without magic, or harms their person, property and/or livelihood, the victim (or their family) has the right to seek compensation from the perpetrator.'
Basically, it meant that magical folk could be sued by Muggles and taken to court if they did something, like Obliviate a Muggle after raping them, or used magic to commit murder and terror like what the Death Eaters did.
It might seem minor, given how few magical folk actually adhered to the rules of the Muggle world, but the Laws Immutable were backed by old magic, and if invoked could not be denied. Even if the Statue of Secrecy made this law moot for the most part, since Muggles wouldn't even know they could do this in the first place, and it wouldn't hold up in the international magical courts, it was still on the books in England, and thus was still viable to be used in the isles.
The local Purebloods had done a lot to remove knowledge of this and other laws over the years, making it very difficult for anyone except old magical families to actually know what their rights were. I'd done some discreet checking, and there were less than a hundred known copies left of the original Laws Immutable in all the world, and more than 90% were kept in Ministry or Pureblood vaults, locked away from the world.
I grinned evilly at the thought of what I could do to Voldemort and his cronies. For a moment, I daydreamed of what sort of look Voldemort would have if he got a magical subpoena in the mail. But I shook that off and got to the point.
"This won't come into play for a while," I told both lawyers as I outlined my ultimate plan. "Maybe even years. But the more time we have to build up a case against the Pureblooods and Death Eaters, the better."
"It will cause chaos," Archibald noted, but he didn't seem that put-off by the idea. Just stating the facts. Mr. Tonks also seemed enthusiastic.
"I know," I said grimly. "But that chaos is necessary. Things need to change. And they will, with or without our input. So, best to get on top of things so we can control what happens."
"Is this related to… You Know Who?" Archibald asked darkly.
"Yes," I confirmed solemnly.
"It's true, then. He's not dead," the old lawyer said with a grimace. "The rumors…"
"Rumors?" I asked after sharing a look with Mr. Tonks.
"My family… I've kept in contact with them, you know? And they've heard… things. Rumors amongst the darker aligned families," Archibald revealed. "Just whispers for now, but the fact remains that certain people have begun… moving, again. Old members of a certain masked snake club have been seen meeting up more frequently than ever. A few of my family believe it is to try and counter the sudden rise of the new Gold faction in the Wizengamot after it split from the Grey faction, and I do believe that to be the case, but it feels like there is something more to it than that."
'That's not good,' I thought with a scowl. This was a major change.
Rumors hadn't started swirling about Voldemort's return until after Harry's Fourth Year and his resurrection. But now… perhaps it was because it had been Barty Crouch Jr. who'd found the Dark Lord, and not Pettigrew?
Junior was an insane psychopath, a true believer. He wouldn't hide and skulk like a rat, keeping his head down until it was time to reveal themselves. Junior would keep to the shadows, but he'd also try to reach out to those who could aid the Dark Lord's return. Former Death Eaters who went free. People who could get access to certain things.
Barty Crouch Sr. was dead, murdered in his own home. I knew it was done by his son whom he'd kept hidden all this time. But had Senior stayed alive, like in the books, Voldemort could have used him to obtain the different materials necessary for the ritual under the guise of needing them for some task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Without that Ministry access in this timeline, Junior had to rely on either his own acquisition abilities, which would be limited by the fact he was supposed to be dead and thus had no access to the family fortune and contacts, or he could go the easy route and get a Death Eater or two involved.
Whether or not these people knew Barty Jr. was helping Voldemort or not was immaterial. The Death Eaters were stirring once more, and it was a bad idea all around to let them do as they pleased.
"This job just became a lot more important," I said with a grim tone. "Mr. Tarsworth, Mr. Tonks, I'll need you both to work as hard as you can on this to get a legal case set up. We're going to need it sooner than I'd hoped."
We'd still need at least a year to have everything prepared, so the quicker they got to work, the better.
"Find out who amongst our circle of allies can take a heritage test, and then dig even deeper and find out who we can get in on a Class Action Lawsuit against the Death Eaters. I want them to be strung up by their balls the moment they do something criminal and stupid," I ordered, and both men nodded. They also knew just how important this was.
Satisfied by the two of them agreeing to work with me, we went over a bit more legal stuff that I needed to discuss with them about expanding Avalon Industries even further. There was just so much paperwork to do when it came to running a business, it boggled the mind!
111 &&& 111
Author's Note:
Also! I recently published three new stories! Star Wars: Ripples of the Void, Pokemon Mercury, and Velvet Worm (Worm x Persona).
Chapter 89: Chapter 89: Wrapping Up The Mission
Chapter Text
Chapter 89: Wrapping Up The Mission
"Is she here yet?"
"Shush! She'll hear you!"
"Did somebody remember to put out the macaroons?"
"Quiet! Here she comes!"
I held back a sigh as I stood in front of the door to Delilah's apartment. Next to me, my girlfriend was smirking my way.
"A surprise party? Really?" she asked, very amused.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" I replied, defending myself poorly.
"Uh-huh," she drawled. "How did you get my flat mates to go along with this?"
"They were surprisingly eager to do this," I admitted. "The, uh, cookies Sam baked may have also helped."
"Were they the red velvet cookies with homemade cream cheese icing?" she asked, and I nodded, earning a nod. "Hmm. Understandable. I'd have set up a surprise party for you, too, if I was bribed with those."
I squinted at her suspiciously. "Do I need to be on the lookout next year on my birthday?"
"You'll just have to wait to find out~!" she teased, before getting her keys out and unlocking the door to her apartment.
It was dark inside, but despite that, the light spilling into the room from the hallway revealed a bunch of figures huddling together in the dark near the couch and dining area.
"Oh, no, why is it so dark?" she wondered aloud, playing along, before reaching for the light switch.
Turning it on, a bunch of people sprang out of hiding, shouting, "SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" at her. Somebody even pulled a party cracker, shooting a bit of confetti at Delilah.
"Wow, I'm shocked, truly," Delilah drawled, and one of her roommates pouted at her.
"Come on, couldn't you pretend to be surprised?"
"Not in my contract, sorry," Delilah replied with a chuckle, looking around at the people who'd gathered in her apartment.
Aside from her two roomies, there were Sam and Kate, Hildegarde, and a familiar silver-haired beauty that had Delilah grinning.
"Fleur!" she said happily. "You made it!"
"Oui," the French Veela said with a smile of her own as the two women hugged. "It was just a quick hop across the channel with a Portkey."
Chatting with each other, the gaggle of gal pals (and one boyfriend tagalong) made their way over to the table where a bunch of delicious baked confections were laid out.
"Oh, Sam!" Delilah breathed out in joy as she took a bite of a fudge brownie. "You always make the best desserts!"
"How do you not get fat eating this good food all the time, Sam?" Delilah's other roommate wondered as she held back a moan in between bites of a vanilla cake.
"Exercise, mostly," Sam replied with a chuckle. "It helps that I usually don't have many leftovers to tempt me."
'Magic also probably plays a role,' I thought as I nibbled daintily on a red velvet cookie.
Most mages could consume quite a bit more food than normal people, as evidenced by the Weasley family's eating habits and the Hogwarts feasts, and I suspected that casting magic used up calories as well.
Sure, there were some overweight mages, but it general seemed like magical energy helped ensure healthy bodies no matter what happened to them.
Once we'd eaten our fill of junk food, we went over to the couch and began to binge trash TV shows while making fun of them – and also eating more snacks from time to time. British TMZ was hilarious, in a dumpster fire sort of way.
As the day turned to the evening, Sam and I whipped up a massive dinner full of deliciousness. It had all of Delilah's favorites: cordon bleu, Scotch eggs, and of course, grilled asparagus.
"No idea how that can be one of your favorite foods," I teased her as we ate.
"Just because your palate is unrefined, doesn't mean mine also suffers," Delilah scoffed playfully as she speared some of the asparagus and enjoyed it immensely.
"Yeah, Ed," Kate teased. "Refine your palate!"
"Oui," Fleur nodded in agreement. "Seeing as mon ami understands the joy of a French dish, it is only to be expected her tongue is superior to yours, non?"
"Hilarious," I said as I rolled my eyes.
When that was done, we moved on to next part of the party: gifts!
Everyone got her something. Sam's present was some new cooking stuff. Everyone needed a multi-purpose vegetable and potato peeler, according to her. Kate's gift was homemade shampoo. Ever since she'd gotten her magic, she'd dived head first into the art of potion making and started to get very good at it. If she kept it up, I'd be offering Kate a job when she graduated!
Delilah's room mates had gotten some new clothes for her. Hildegarde got Delilah a handmade golden bracelet with some runes that would keep her clean and comfortable no matter where she was. Fleur's gift was a collection of fancy magical French perfume that could change scents depending on the surroundings, making sure they'd always smell just right and not mix poorly with background scents.
And then, last but not least, it was my turn.
"I hope you like it," I said, passing her the present I'd picked out for her.
It was a red box, and when Delilah opened it, found it contained a necklace inside. Said piece of jewelry was made of a dozen pearls with a single teardrop shaped opal in the middle. The whole thing was beautiful, of course, but the real worth of the gift were the enchantments.
The pearls were multi-use Portkey, designed to take her to one of twelve different locations depending on the code words used (included in the birthday card I gave her). One went to the Ruby Manor, another to my penthouse suite, and two of these locations were safe houses that were known only to me (and now her).
As for the opal, it possessed the finest toxin and disease cure charms I could find. Short of something insanely potent or magical, like Basilisk venom or Dragon Pox, it'd protect Delilah from pretty much anything. Add in a Curse protection charm to the metal of the necklace itself, and my girlfriend was now the most protected woman in London, magical or mundane.
"Beautiful!" she breathed out, before hugging me tightly. "Thank you!"
"Anything for you," I replied truthfully. She smiled and gave me a kiss, which earned some hooting and catcalls from her friends, before releasing my lips.
"Later," she whispered, and I licked my lips unconsciously.
"Yes, ma'am!" I chuckled.
This had definitely been worth it!
111 &&& 111
I got a call I'd been expecting for a while a bit later in the week, while I was in the office. After making sure I was secure, I fetched the enchanted mirror, and soon was looking into the tired, haggard face of Sirius Black.
"Hey, Ed," he said, and despite the weariness in his voice, he sounded as smug as ever.
"Sirius," I replied. "You look like shit."
"Been a while since I had a chance to do more than cast Scourgify on myself," he grunted. "Wish I learned that shaving spell when James did. Apparently, Lily hated stubble…"
The animagus trailed off for a bit, lost in memories, before snapping back to the present. "Ugh, sorry about that."
"It's fine. How are things in Rwanda?" I asked him.
"Not bad. It's been rough, but the NATO troops have been able to keep things in check on the mundane side of the fighting, while the ICW has sent observers to watch over the Tutsi wizarding forces. Things are still bad and I have to run counter-assassination operations every week or so to ensure no Hutu mages manage to curse Agathe and Kagame, but so far, it looks like the war is winding down. Should be finished by the end of the month."
Right now, it was June 11th, and according to the timeline I knew, the Rwandan genocide and civil war would be over in July.
However, things had changed thanks to our intervention. With Sirius' help in getting the non-genocidal members of the government out, they'd been able to coordinate much more closely with the RPF and establish control of the territories quicker with legitimate backing.
There were tensions between the RPF's leadership and President Agathe, mostly due to the fact she was Hutu and the RPF were Tutsi, but Kagame was a pragmatic man, and he knew that working with the one person who truly believed in cooperation between the tribes was the only way to go forward.
Colonel Bagosora and the coup government had tried to decry the president as an imposter, then a traitor, but their efforts failed miserably, and they were declared terrorists by the U.N.
That was another change. With an actual legitimate leader in charge of Rwanda's government-in-exile, the U.N. was a lot more willing to play ball and label Bagosora's lackies as illegitimate usurpers.
From the news I'd overheard on the T.V. and radio, the RPF and NATO forces had gutted the coup forces, and had pushed even deeper into the country than the original timeline. Now, they had already retaken the capital of Kigali, and were circling the final holdouts of enemy resistance.
'Not to mention, the dear ol' colonel has been arrested and is going on trial for war crimes soon,' I thought, pleased by the outcome of my intervention.
"Tell me more about the magical side of the conflict," I asked. "Is it… contained?"
"The Tutsi mages have managed to crush most of the Hutu magical cells, though several are still on the loose," Sirius informed me. "They still don't like my presence and are trying to banish me, but I'm too slippery for them."
"Has the ICW approached you?" I wondered.
"Oh, yeah. A bunch of stuffy bureaucrats at first trying to find out who I was and trying to get me deported, but then they started sending their Hit Wizards after me."
"They really don't like mercenaries," I hummed.
"More like they object to me intervening on behalf of the regular people," Sirius said, and his expression turned dark. "I've seen a lot of shit, kid. Stopped more rapes than I care to remember. More senseless murders, too. But I can't be everywhere at once. And they just… leave the bodies to rot in the streets…"
The Animagus had a haunted look, and I winced before making a mental note to have him finally go see a damned therapist. He'd refused to go to one after his stint in Azkaban, but I was not going to let this fester any longer. I didn't tell him that, though. He'd just protest.
'I'll get Hildegarde to help out on this,' I thought.
Sirius and the dwarf were definitely dating at this point, though I think neither of them wanted to call it as such. But if she made the suggestion to him about getting help for his mental health, Sirius would treat it better than if I did.
Instead, I asked, "The ICW is really ignoring what happens to the mundane populace?"
"You know how it goes, Ed," Sirius said tiredly. "The Statute of Secrecy is sacred to these people. That's all that matters to them. Worse, I've encountered some ICW observers who are very clearly in the Anti-Muggle faction."
At that, I could only sigh. It was sadly a given that plenty of magical governments would look down on Muggles as 'lesser.' Grindelwald wouldn't have been so damn successful if that hadn't been the case. But to hear that members of the ICW were actually dismissive of genocide? It disgusted me.
"Have you been able to get away from these Hit Wizards?" I asked, and Sirius scoffed.
"Please, who do you take me for?"
"A reckless man who learned how to become an Animagus so he could play with werewolves," I drawled in response.
"Okay, got me there," Sirius snorted, before shaking his head. "Nah, the ones they sent after me were clearly the bottom of the barrel. Add in the fact that Magical Europe has been at peace since the fall of Grindelwald, and the only Hit Wizards you have to worry about are the older ones who escaped the Communists. The younger ones are too green, and never actual fought. They're more like Aurors."
"Sounds like Magical Europe isn't ready for a war," I said, and earned a nod.
"I'd need to see the situation there for myself, but based on the goons I've shaken off my tail? They're going to be ripped apart when Voldemort decides to go to war," he said, and I nodded.
At this point, we all agreed that Voldemort would probably try to do some recruiting in Europe first, and maybe even set up a terror campaign or two, before coming back here.
"Are you going to be coming back soon, then?" I wondered, and Sirius nodded.
"Yes. I think I've done all I can, here. President Agathe is in power, Kigali is back in her hands, and the country is getting a lot of aid from the U.N.," Sirius summarized. "I'll give her a couple magical items to protect her, some anti-curse stuff and a shield or two, but after that, I'm returning home. I want to be there when the pup comes back from school."
"Of course," I said. "And, I hate to ask…"
"Yes, yes, I have the notes on how the equipment worked," Sirius said, rolling his eyes at me.
"Hey, this is the best damn field test our magically enhanced military gear could ask for," I told him in a mock-scolding tone. "You will shoot your guns and like it, young man!"
"Heh, sure thing, 'pops,'" Sirius drawled. "I'll say this, though: it all worked damn good. We will need to work out some kinks, though."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Biggest one was that too much magic on the guns caused them to start deforming," he warned. "The runes to improve the way they shoot seemed enhance every aspect of them, including the heat generated when they fired. This caused the barrels to deform over time, and any jams or misfires would be a lot worse. Nothing a Reparo couldn't fix, but it's still an issue."
"Odd, I haven't noticed anything like that with any other rune sequences," I muttered, confused. "Was it due to the amount of runes? Would a smaller number help?"
"I dunno, I just made the notes like you asked."
I hummed to myself before nodding. "Suppose that's all I can ask for," I muttered. "When will you be back, then?"
"Fifteenth at the soonest, twentieth at the latest," he informed me.
"I'll have everything set up and made ready for your return," I assured him, and he grinned at me.
"Can't wait!" he said before hanging up.
I tucked the mirror away, thoughts racing. Why had the runes caused the guns to heat up and start to deform? Was this a danger my other runic projects could suffer? I'd need to do an examination of everything that used runes and check to ensure that this wouldn't impact anything else, like the Tethys hydro-electric generators.
This needed more research and investigation!
111 &&& 111
"Well, the good news is that things aren't as dire as I feared," I told Delilah, Remus (who was connected via Magic Mirror), and the head of my Runic Applications and Inventions Department.
Since they were the members of my company most connected to the rune-based projects right now, I'd called them all together for an important meeting about what I'd discovered regarding the degradation Sirius had noticed.
"Sounds like it was still worse than you'd hoped," Delilah pointed out.
"Very true. Apparently, when magic flows through runes, there is very little heat being produced. Even the 'light' that comes from the glow they let off isn't real, so to speak, as it does not generate heat," I explained. "However, when runes are being used to connect with or power something that is creating a type of energy, like flames or, in the case of the Tethys, electricity, they start to heat up."
I leaned back in my chair with a frustrated frown. "It appears that magic has a sort of amplification effect on other forms of energy. Fire gets hotter and brighter, and electricity gets more… excited? It generates a lot more heat as a result regardless."
"And electricity can already produce quite a bit of heat on its own, so this increased efficiency is what causes the damage to the runes and the surrounding materials," Delilah finished. "Meaning we need to find better insulators if we want to build anything with runes going forward. If we want them to last after prolonged use, at least."
"Explains why the guns were getting warped," one of the scientists of the rune lab mused. "Firing a bullet produces quite a bit of kinetic energy, and if this energy is being increased by the magic within the runes, I'm not surprised there's damage."
"Yes. I looked at the other runic inventions. So far, the potion stirrers are fine, with the only damage coming from prolonged contact with the potions themselves. And that is easily fixable. For things with delicate wires and other parts? Some already need replacements," I informed them.
"We're going to need to do a massive revamp of everything that uses runes right now," the head of RAID, Rigel Nosbell, said with a shake of his head.
Rigel Nosbell was an older man and a Squib whose knowledge of Runes was vastly superior to my own, but due to his status, was constantly being denied his rightful Mastery in the subject. Disgruntled, he'd been an easy fellow to convince to work with me, and he loved the idea of using Muggle technology to create runes faster and easier.
"And a list," Remus added. "We use runes in a lot, from the wards to the safety equipment, and everything in between. If there's a chance they could be damaged from prolonged use, we need to know now."
"I'll have somebody get right on that," Rigel promised. "Thank God and Merlin we've been keeping track of everything we put runes onto in the first place so we don't accidentally let them get seen by Muggles."
Everyone nodded in relief at that. For once, stringent bureaucracy saved the day!
111 &&& 111
Author's Note: I'm back, baby!
Chapter 90: Chapter 90: Summer Break, Take 3!
Chapter Text
Chapter 90: Summer Break, Take Three!
Harry POV
"Open," Harry hissed, and the wall groaned and creaked as it pulled back, revealing the long, winding staircase that led into the Chamber of Secrets.
"Thanks, kid," one of the Curse Breakers said, while another whistled.
"It's impressive every time I see it," a third figure commented. This one had an all-too familiar mop of red hair, and combined with the freckles and similar facial features it was easy to tell he was a Weasley. William "Bill" Weasley to be exact.
The fourth person in the girl's bathroom (who wasn't Harry or Myrtle) was a goblin, and he had a pinched expression. He'd had the same one the entire time Harry had known him, so he didn't pay it any mind.
The quartet (plus Harry) descended into the Chamber of Secrets, following the path. It had gotten scrubbed and cleaned up with dozens of magical lights attached to the walls providing illumination.
Compared to the first time Harry came down here, it was like night and day. So much brighter, so much cleaner, and so much less… snake-y.
The Basilisk's shed skin had been collected – one of the first things to go – and there were a bunch of other places that had been carefully combed and inspected by the various Gringotts Curse Breakers that had been hired to ensure it was safe.
After an entire school year, most of the Chamber had been fully explored, and most of the traps disabled. The reason why Harry was still with them was because some spots still couldn't be broken into easily and needed a Parseltongue to open the way.
He didn't mind helping. Exploring the Chamber was fun, and he was getting extra credit in History and a bunch of House Points from the teachers (mostly thanks to Professor's Flitwick, Vector, Binns, and Babbling). By now, Gryffindor was a clear shoe-in for the House Cup this year.
'Can't wait for the end of year feast tonight,' Harry thought idly as he stood in the center of the Chamber of Secrets, where just last year he'd fought Tom and the Basilisk. He could still see patches of discolored stone where the Horcrux's ink had stained the ground alongside the giant serpent's blood and venom.
His Third Year had been a wild one. Yet another near-death experience under his belt courtesy of the Dementors, and of course there was the legions of historians, researchers, Curse Breakers, and more who'd come to Hogwarts to explore and study the Chamber of Secrets (which of course necessitated his participation).
'Thank God and Merlin that it's almost over,' Harry thought with relief. 'Hopefully next year won't be so bad.'
For some reason, he could almost hear somebody laughing at him from the distance. Looking around, he couldn't find anybody, so the Boy Who Lived shrugged and went back to standing around waiting for something to happen.
Ever since he'd summoned a spirit around Christmas he'd been having these weird flashes, like something was watching him. He couldn't prove it was more spirits who'd taken an interest in him, but that definitely seemed like something they'd do.
'Just ignore it,' he told himself. 'They can't do anything to me and they're just annoying voyeurs.'
"Harry! Can we get a hand with this statue?" Bill called out, and Harry snapped out of his thoughts and wandered over to the red-head.
Bill and one other Curse Breaker were standing at the foot of the giant statue of Salazar himself, eager to
"Speak, Greatest of Hogwart's Founders!" Harry hissed out, and the mouth of the statue creaked open. It was big enough to let a Basilisk through, so it was also big enough to let a
"Are you almost finished mapping the tunnels?" Harry wondered curiously. The mouth of the statue led to a series of giant tubes and tunnels which snaked (heh) throughout the castle and its grounds.
"Not quite," Bill said. "We discovered a new set of crossroads that stretch out towards the west, so we think we've only discovered a third of the total number of passages!"
"That's… seriously paranoid," Harry said slowly. "Didn't you already find fifty individual tunnels?"
"Forty-two, actually," Bill's companion spoke up as he floated a rope ladder up into the mouth so they could climb inside. "With eleven crossroads and sub-chambers, with one as far as the mountains to the north of Hogsmeade!"
"The man was definitely prepared to bugout if anything ever happened to Hogwarts," Bill agreed. "Some of the sub-chambers have enough supplies to feed to an army, too. Or, they did. The Basilisk ate most of them, the rest spoiled after the preservation spells faded."
"Lots of treasure, too," the other Curse Breaker said eagerly. "Bunch of old artifacts and tomes! And a bunch of magical traps!"
"Yes, and lots of traps," Bill confirmed with a nod. "We'll be gone for a bit."
"Could I come with you?" Harry wondered, bored with just standing around.
"Err, alright," Bill said after sharing a look with his friend. "Lemme just check real quick. OI! Garbok!"
"What is it, Curse Breaker Weasley?" the goblin inquired, looking up from a pile of documents and treasures he was sorting through with the other Curse Breaker.
"We're gonna take Harry with us if that's alright!"
"I can open doors and disable traps if they need Parseltongue," Harry said, trying to convince him.
"That is fine, we are just going to be cataloguing the discoveries from the last expedition into the tunnels," Garbok replied dismissively. "Be sure the youngling doesn't get stabbed or eaten or anything."
"Yeah, I've had enough of that for one year," Harry drawled. The goblin shot him a fang-filled grin, which Harry returned, barring his teeth like a shark at the dentist's office.
The goblins were a war-like race, and they respected violence and those capable of enacting said violence. Slaying a Basilisk, a creature that didn't lose out to dragons or nundus, as well as destroying a Horcrux, had made the Boy Who Lived quite famous amongst the goblins.
Having gotten the go-ahead from the man (goblin) in charge of today's exploration, Harry followed along behind Bill and his friend into Salazar's mouth.
Once inside, the throat opened up into a tunnel large enough for two Basilisk's side by side to pass through, which then led to a three-forked crossroad. One branch led to the Forbidden Forest, another went to a series of tunnels beneath the lake, and the final path went under Hogwarts itself.
From here, it was possible for a traveler to go wherever they wanted, and secret supply caches had been built into hidden rooms all throughout.
It spoke to Salazar's paranoia that many of the tunnels were laden with traps, many of which were nasty yet ingenious.
One trap contained a curse that targeted anyone with a few pounds of iron or steel. The exact amount of weight of a longsword, in fact. So, Muggle knights were the target. Or Godrick Gryffindor, who was known to use a sword of his own. Another one was a curse that caused any vermin like lice, ticks, or fleas that might be present to go wild and attack anything nearby. Essentially, it was a trap for 'dirty Muggles' who might be infested with parasites.
And then there were the purely mechanical traps, like a pitfall, a rolling boulder, and a fake tunnel primed to collapse if too much weight entered. The founder of House Slytherin was a madman whose hate for non-magicals was on display with every trap and curse they came across.
'I would call it impressive if not for the fact his pet nearly killed me,' Harry thought as he moved slowly through the passageway behind the Curse Breakers.
They eventually reached a section that was covered in glowing mushrooms, the fungi providing enough illumination to see that they were in a circular crossroad that had four paths. One had caved in, but the others were still intact.
"So, this is the new section of the tunnels we found," Charlie said, gesturing to the area. "Keep heading down that tunnel next to the collapsed one and you'll find yourself in a cave that's in the mountains. And over there, to the right, there's a supply cache down that way that we're investigating. Got some traps we'd like to see if you can do anything about."
"Sure, I'll take a look," Harry said, walking towards the spot the Weasley had indicated. "Show yourself!"
By uttering that phrase in Parseltongue, it caused a couple sections of the tunnel to shift and light up, the curses laid upon the stone to reveal themselves.
"Bill, we should definitely try to get him to join us when he graduates," Mark (that was his name!) whispered to Bill Weasley.
The red-head snorted. "Good luck with that. He's the best damn Quidditch player here at Hogwarts I've seen. Merlin, he's better some professionals. He's born for the sky. No way he'll want to spend his days down below the ground."
Mark whined a little, disappointed by the lack of Boy Who Lived accompanying them on future trips into deadly, trap-filled tombs and ruins.
"Let's see… a metal rusting curse, and some sort of transmutation spell," Bill said, waving his wand as he checked the spells that had been revealed.
"Odd that he combined them," Mark muttered. "No, wait, hang on, I figured out why he included those curses. See that part, there, where the spell lines connect? After the metal has rusted away, some of the rust is transmuted into a sort of primitive thermite, designed to obliterate the bodies completely in a sort of spontaneous combustion event."
"That's nastier than the trap we saw a week ago that collapses a tunnel and then fills it with Fiendfyre," Bill winced. "If the smoke didn't get ya, the heat and flames would."
"He knew what thermite was?" Harry asked, surprised. He only knew about it thanks to Ed.
"The man wasn't an idiot," Mark replied. "And it's likely he stumbled across it by accident. Seen it before, too. Sometimes people just invent things that are convergent developments. Egyptians invented a spell that makes something as smooth and shiny as a mirror, and the Indians created something identical around the same time."
"Interesting," Harry murmured.
"Well, let's get to disarming them," Bill suggested, and Mark nodded. The two took a few minutes to disable the curses, and when they were done, they carefully cast a few more spells to check the way forward.
"Nothing," Mark announced.
"Yeah, not seeing anything else," Bill agreed. "Move up."
They kept going along the tunnel, slowly but steadily while Harry trailed behind. Both Curse Breakers cast spells every couple of steps to make sure there was nothing else hiding.
"Hang on, got something up here!" Bill suddenly announced three minutes later, stopping short as a red barrier suddenly appeared and blocked them from continuing.
"A blood ward?" Mark wondered, wand waving.
"Looks like it," Bill replied. "The spell is only anchored to the stone, though. We can tear it down by damaging the tunnel itself."
"Strange, that seems lazy based on what we've seen so far," Mark murmured. "Harry, could you check for us?"
"Show yourself," the Boy Who Lived declared, and used the magic in his voice to cause runes to appear on the floor and ceiling.
"Ah-hah! I knew it!" Mark crowed. "Old bastard hid some runic enchants that would trigger if the blood wards were removed in any way!"
"What do they do?" Charlie asked as his partner knelt down to examine the runes.
"Bombarda runes," Mark said after a moment. "They'd bring the tunnel down on top of anybody here. And turn anyone nearby into chunky salsa at the same time."
"Delightful," Charlie grimaced while Harry felt sick to his stomach at that visual image.
The runes were erased after some effort, and the tunnel walls were broken to destroy the blood ward.
That done, they made their way through, finding a small, square chamber carved out of the solid stone. Six entire bookshelves lined the walls filled with books and specimen jars, with a duo of silver mirrors in between on the right and left walls. A wooden worktable stood in the center, laden with potion making and alchemical equipment, some of which that Harry recognized from Ed's laboratory.
However, there was a gap between two of the bookshelves opposite the entrance to the room, containing an elegant mural of a green snake made with the scales made of malachite, emeralds and peridots and the eyes were red garnets.
"Whoa," Harry whispered in awe.
"Another supply cache," Mark noted as he looked around.
"Nah, this is something else. A personal study of some sort," Bill replied with a shake of his head.
He then cast diagnostic spells around the room. Several spots lit up, revealing areas where curses were hidden. Mark did the same, and his spell showed where less magical traps were placed.
"This must have been one of Slytherin's workshops," Bill said after they disabled everything left in the room.
"Seems like it. Potions, mostly, but some alchemical research equipment, too," Harry claimed.
"Think you're right, kid," Mark agreed. "And… yes! Check this out!"
He approached the workbench and shifted some things, revealing a petrified toad sitting atop a bunch of broken pieces of shell.
"This is where he made the Basilisk," Bill realized, awe and terror dripping from every word.
"Wow, okay, we gotta get out of here and let the boss know," Mark said quickly, though his own eagerness shone through. "This room is probably trapped to high hell with stuff we can't even recognize!"
"Or notice," Bill said, suddenly suspicious. "Harry?"
"On it," he said, and whispered "Show yourself!" to the room.
Immediately a dozen spots that hadn't been revealed during the first scan of the room revealed themselves, and both Curse Breakers winced.
"That's a Time Trap! I thought those only existed in old Greek tombs!" Bill uttered in disbelief, pointing his wand at a curse shining within one of the mirrors. "And over there, by the shelf! It's a Druidic curse that hasn't been seen in centuries that causes thorny vines to erupt from every orifice!"
"Yeah, definitely need the boss to bring in more people," Mark said, looking around nervously.
"Hey, why is that wall glowing?" Harry asked, confused by the fact that the mural of the snake had lit up as well.
"Now that's interesting," Mark murmured. "Hey, Billy, you think this might be a door?"
"The other side is either hollow or leads to a tunnel," Bill said as he waved his wand at it.
"Only one way to find out," the Boy Who Lived said, stepping up to face the wall.
"Open!" Harry hissed, and the bejeweled carving on the wall seemed to squirm before the entire structure pulled back, revealing a long passageway.
Unlike the other tunnels that had been found throughout the Chamber of Secrets that were crudely carved out of the earth and left bare, this one was had smoothed out walls and tiled, with what appeared to be the moldering remains of a carpet on the floor, and rusting torch sconces on the wall.
"This looks like an entrance," Harry said, eyeing what he'd uncovered, and an idea struck him. "Hey, do either of you think that perhaps this is the real entrance to the workshop? Because I don't think I see Slytherin crawling through his own mouth to get here."
"I think you're right, kid!" Mark exclaimed gleefully. "This must be the reason entrance to the Chamber of Secrets! Or one of them, at least."
"Well reasoned, Harry," Bill said, patting the dark-haired 3rd Year on the shoulder.
"Then that means this leads back to the Basilisk den!" Harry guessed.
Charlie and Mark grinned at that, and double-checked to make sure no traps showed up inside the tunnel. Once they were sure no curses were going to hit them, the trio moved through the corridor that had been made, and eventually came to another wall.
A quick whisper of Parseltongue opened it up for them, and when they stepped out, they found themselves back in the main area. In fact, they could see the goblin overseer and the other Curse Breaker staring at them in surprise.
"Well, it seems you had an adventure," Garbok replied dryly.
"Sure did. Best part is that we found a new way into the tunnel system," Bill said.
"Yeah, climbing into a dude's mouth isn't the best way to do it. Get's weird after a while," Mark agreed. "Heard so many jokes about it that it's gotten stale."
Bill nodded in agreement, before looking at Harry. "Why don't you head on up, now? It's almost time for the End of Year Feast, isn't it?"
"Oh! You're right!" Harry nodded in agreement.
He made his way out of the Chamber, not wanting to be late for the feast.
'Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, and we probably did the same for the House Cup,' he thought to himself as he headed through the hallways. All those extra credit points had really piled up over the year, despite Fred and George's best attempts to undo it all.
A few hours later, Harry wondered if perhaps some of Ed's Divination talent had rubbed off on him, because things happened exactly as he'd predicted.
Also, to pretty much everyone's surprise, Professor Lupin was still sitting at the teacher's table, completely untouched by any issues that might force him to retire at the end of the year.
Silently, Harry prayed that the secret werewolf would stay on for another year. He'd been the best teacher they'd ever had. And it would piss off Snape, which was always a good thing in his books.
111 &&& 111
The train pulled into Platform 9 and after a long ride through the countryside, and Harry felt a mix of emotions as he stared at the milling crowd of people waiting for their children to disembark.
Harry always felt a little jealous seeing other kids with their parents, but spotting Sirius standing off to the side waiting for him brought a spark of fondness into his lonely heart.
'I have a family of my own, now,' he thought to himself, smiling softly. He then looked over at his friends. For the ride back, the boys of Gryffindor had decided to ride together while the girls had their own cabin to themselves. The way they'd giggled had worried him great.
'I just hope they aren't talking about us,' Harry thought with a wince.
"Well… the year is finally over," Ron said, stretching a little as the train came to a stop and let out a whistle blast. "Those exams were brutal! I thought Care of Magical Creatures and Divination were supposed to be easy classes!"
"They were easy. But the tests sure weren't!" Dean huffed in agreement.
"I'm just glad the unspeakable evil this year happened so early. Maybe next year we won't have to deal with anything at all!" Nevile said hopefully, shivering a bit as he recalled the Dementor attack around Christmas.
"Sucker's bet, Nev," Dean said with a shake of his head.
"Yeah, you've gone and jinxed us," Seamus commented. He then looked around. "Got any plans?"
"Besides the World Cup? Nah," Ron replied. "Might have to de-gnome the garden, though. They always come back around this time of year."
"I'm looking forward to the Cup!" Seamus agreed. "The Irish are gonna win against the Bulgarians this time!"
"Know what? We should all meet up there," Harry suggested, Dean and Neville nodding along in agreement.
"Does sound like fun," Dean agreed. "Might be tricky to convince my mum, though."
"We can help," Neville promised. "And maybe we can also go do something else this summer?"
"That might be possible. Sirius has a castle out in the countryside. We could go camping there!" Harry suggested.
"Another castle? I dunno," Ron muttered. "And we'll be camping at the Cup…"
"We'll come up with something," Seamus agreed. "But it's time to disembark."
The doors to the train had opened, and the dozens of passengers had begun to spill out, unleashing a tide of youth upon the unsuspecting streets of London.
At that, Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage, and the group of friends made their way out of the cabin onto the platform, meeting up with the others from Hogwarts.
"See you at the World Cup!" Ron said, slapping Harry fondly on his shoulder.
'You know it!" Harry replied with a grin.
He then shook hands with Neville, Dean, and Seamus, and said his farewells to the girls afterwards, Hermione giving him a hug before she hurried over to her parents.
"Are you gonna miss me?!" a tiny blonde ballistic missile demanded as it tackled him.
"Astoria!" Daphne scolded her sister, rushing over. "Behave! And let go! You're causing a scene!"
"No~!" Astoria whined. "I won't see him for weeks!"
"Hey, come on," Harry said delicately, trying to extract himself from the tiny girl's surprisingly tight grip. "We'll see each other at the World Cup."
Eventually, Daphne peeled her sister off of Harry, dragging Astoria over to her parents.
"She's a handful, huh?" Susan said, walking over, the last of his friend group he had to bid farewell. "I feel like I've gotten over the desire to have a sibling of my own after seeing how Astoria runs Daphne ragged."
"She means well," Harry said awkwardly.
"I'm sure she does," the Hufflepuff said with a snort. She then leaned in.
"Bye, Harry!" Susan said, giving him a hug.
"See ya later, Susan," he replied, returning the hug.
She smiled, then let go and ran off to meet with her aunt, who was waiting for her over by the exit.
Harry shook his head, trying to get his thoughts off of his friend. It was hard though, made worse by the wide, knowing smirk Sirius was giving him as he walked over.
"Zip it," he muttered.
"Didn't say a thing, prongslet!" Sirius replied.
"You were thinking it though!" Harry grumped. "Susan is just a friend!"
"Sure," the Black drawled, before shaking his head. "Come on, then, Mr. Just Friends, we got something special planned for ya for your homecoming!"
Sirius led Harry out of the train station and over to the parking lot where a few other parents were departing with their children. One particular car stood out because Harry recognized it, and the person in the driver's seat.
"Ed!" Harry said excitedly upon seeing who was behind the wheel.
"Hey, where's the love for me, huh?" Sirius whined.
"Ed didn't make insinuations about me and Susan," Harry huffed.
"Not yet," Ed replied cheekily, and the Boy Who Lived shot him a look of betrayal. Ed then popped open the trunk. "Put your stuff in there, then slip on into the front seat. You get to sit up next to me."
"So I have to sit in the back like a child, is that it?" Sirius asked in mock hurt.
"Yes. Harry doesn't smell like wet dog," Ed retorted, and the animagus clutched his heart.
"How cruel!" he cried out, even as he slipped into the backseat of the car.
Harry then got into the front and buckled up. Once safety was acknowledged, Ed drove out of the station's parking lot. They started going through London, and Harry noticed they weren't going to Ed's apartment.
"Where are we going?" he wondered.
"First, we're getting lunch," Ed replied. "What do you want? You can choose!"
"Ummm… hamburgers?" Harry inquired. He ate a lot of different foods at Hogwarts, but there was something alluring about greasy fast food.
Ed nodded and drove them to a diner where they ordered plenty of deliciously greased up burgers and fries. Harry enjoyed it, though the company was the best part. Sirius asked him how his time at school was, while Ed wondered if he had learned anything new.
For his part, Harry was eager to answer, and told them all about the extra credit he got for helping out in the Chamber of Secrets.
"To think that paranoid old coot had built an entire maze beneath the school," Sirius muttered. "That's insane."
"It's a major security risk is what it is," Ed claimed. "Dumbledore is going to have to find a way to extend the range of the wards to cover these secret entrances. Otherwise anybody could sneak inside. Especially now that it is being mapped."
"Good point. I'll bring that up to Madam Longbottom and we'll discuss this at the Board of Directors meeting later this week," Sirius declared.
"I didn't know you were on the board," Harry said, surprised.
"It was one of the things the Malfoys stole when I got shoved into Azkaban," he said grumpily. "The Blacks have a seat, and as Draco's proxy, Lucius took it for himself. Mine again, now, but it's taking a lot of work to untangle the mess he left it in."
"At least you have it back," Ed commented. "Now, dessert anyone?"
"No, I'm good," Harry replied.
"Too many Chocolate Frogs on the Express?" Sirius asked knowingly, and the Boy Who Lived pouted.
"Well, then, I suppose it's time to head back home," Ed said. He paid the bill and everyone got back into the car.
Once more, though, they didn't seem to be heading back to Surrey and were staying in London proper.
"Where are we going?" Harry wondered.
"You'll see soon," Ed promised. Then, a couple minutes later, he pointed off into the distance.
"There it is, our new home," Ed announced as they drove towards a large apartment complex.
"You finally finished refurbishing the penthouse suite!" Harry realized as he stared up at the building.
"The dwarves worked hard to get it done before you returned," Ed said. "Fine job they did, if I do say so myself. Behold! Pendragon Heights! Finest apartment complex in the land."
Ed parked the car in a reserved spot, and then led Harry and Sirius into the building followed by a quick ride up an elevator.
"Welcome to my new home," Ed said proudly as he led everyone inside the penthouse, showing it off.
Large windows let in a lot of natural light, and the penthouse was given wood paneling that provided a soft, cozy feeling to the whole place. Tables and chairs were set up in a dining room, and beyond that there was a living room with a giant home theatre entertainment set-up, and an assortment of antiques and artwork, both magical and mundane, filled several alcoves next to shelves full of books.
Ed gestured to the surroundings. "The glass was enchanted to be capable of repelling anything short of a tank round, and wards ensure that nobody will ill intentions can cause problems inside the entire building. There are runic arrays that provide temperature control and keeps the air pollution non-existent, and the entire building is powered by one of Delilah's Tethys hydro-electric generators, so we don't need to worry about the power bill."
"Best part is that the runes and enchantments are all powered by the Ley Line, and the House Elves have their own rooms and they love taking care of the whole place, so the upkeep is low," he continued. "I'm considering offering a House Elf maid service to the renters who live here as a cheap housekeeping option. It'll just be a few pounds, and the money goes directly to Inky and the rest so they can buy the contracts of other House Elves to get them away from the Ministry's control."
"It's amazing," Sirius whistled.
"The other apartments and penthouses lack the same level of modifications, but it isn't hard to apply after the fact," Ed said. "If you're still interested in buying a place here, Sirius."
"Hell yeah I am!" he declared. "No more dreary Grimmauld Place for me!"
"Oh, and before I forget! This way, Harry!" Ed called out, ushering the recently graduated Third Year to a door that had a brass name plate shaped like a lightning bolt.
Opening it, Harry gasped as he saw it was filled with his stuff! He didn't have much, but it was everything he'd left at Ed's and Sirius's places while he'd been at Hogwarts!
"Is… is this…?" Harry whispered, staring at the interior beyond the door.
"Yup," Ed said with a nod. "This is your room. If you want it."
"I… you really want me living with you?" he asked, feeling tears prickle within his eyes.
"Of course," Ed said kindly, offering a genuine smile. "You deserve to have a place to call your own. Now, you never have to return to Privet Drive ever again."
Harry had to hold back his tears as he gave Ed a hug. This was the best day of his life!
Chapter 91: Chapter 91: Hallowed Victory
Chapter Text
Chapter 91: Hallowed Victory
"So, that's the situation. Any questions?" I asked, looking at the group who'd gathered in my apartment.
Under the guise of a dinner party to celebrate Harry's return from Hogwarts, my allies who were in the know about the Horcuxes had assembled, and after an excellent dinner made by Rainy, we all sat around the table as they digested both my food and my words.
I had decided to drop the bomb on them now rather than later, and wanted to know their opinions on what we should do next. And so, Harry, Sirius, Remus, Sam, Deliah, and the three Tonkses were staring at me or their glasses of after-dinner wine.
"So, you're saying that the two path's you've foreseen are either let things play out as they do in your original visions, which solves the problem short term, but will lead to even greater problems down the line, or we eliminate the final Horcrux now, and let Voldemort drag the world into a war that will lead to a better future," Dora said slowly, skepticism audible in her voice.
"What sort of problems are we talking about, though?" Sirius asked me pointedly.
"I can only make educated guesses, but the first path, the Path of Ice, means that we eliminate the Death Eaters and Voldemort before they can reform their group, but it leads to nothing really changing in meaningful ways. The Purebloods stay in power, and the bigots in the Ministry continue to do everything they can to maintain the status quo even as the Muggle world gets closer to discovering them," I explained.
This option had a bunch of scowls from the group pop up. They liked the idea of eliminating Voldemort and his goons, but not at the cost of letting a corrupt government continue to rule and make terrible decisions to the detriment of the magical world.
"Meanwhile, the Path of Fire will see another magical war erupt by destroying the Horcux now. Voldemort and the Death Eaters will find out and make their escape, dragging all of Magical Europe into conflict down the road. This will cause a lot of bloodshed, but will allow us to purge the corrupt forces within the magical community and allow us to better prepare for the inevitable discovery of the magical world by the Mundane populace," I finished.
"Neither of those are pleasant," Ed Tonks grumbled. "We let the Ministry keep running the country into the ground or we let a war sweep across the world in the hopes it cleans the slate. Both lead to terrible outcomes."
"I suppose it was too much to hope that this situation could be resolved without bloodshed," Andromeda groaned.
"Come off it, cuz," Sirius scoffed. "We all knew that if Mr. Snakeface came back it would mean we'd have to pick up our wands and start cursing the masked bastards, because the Aurors would be completely useless."
"Oi, I take offense to that!" Dora huffed, arms folding as her hair turned into an orange afro in outrage.
"How many Aurors would side with the Death Eaters if the Ministry decided to sit on the fence?" I asked her pointedly. "And if the Death Eaters somehow take over, how many would do whatever the Ministry tells them to do, even if it means rounding up 'undesirables?'"
She glowered at that, not at all happy with my completely valid point.
"To make an informed decision, we need to take into account what the mundane governments will do," Sam said. "If a war now means smoother integration in the future, then… shite, I hate to say it, but maybe that's what needs to happen."
"True. The Berlin Wall fell a mere five years ago, and the governments like the United States are still working off of a Cold War mentality. It would be for the best that the magical communities don't give them a reason to use nukes," I commented, agreeing with Sam.
"Are you both hearing yourselves?!" Dora demanded, looking between me and her girlfriend. "You want to start a war! Hundreds of people will die! It won't just be Auror's like me fighting, either, innocent people will get caught in the crossfire or get drafted!"
"I hate it as much as you do, Nym, but think about it," Sam pleaded. "You don't know the mundane world like I do! A war between magical and mundane will see the world burn! Get rid of the rot now by having a civil war amongst the magicals, and then we can strive to work together more closely!"
"He's right, Nymphadora," Ed Tonks said, siding with Sam.
"Ed!" Andromeda gasped.
"No, Andy, please, listen! There are billions of Muggles… I mean mundanes," Mr. Tonks reminded her. "If they have to step in to sort out our messes, then it will become bloody. And everyone knows the Yanks love to meddle."
"Think about what the Ministry is like right now," Remus added. "We just barely avoided an anti-werewolf bill passing that would require all people who are like myself to be forcibly relocated to an 'isolated reserve' to ensure we won't be a threat to anyone. We'd be treated as prisoners! And this topic will keep coming up so long as people like Umbridge are allowed to stay in power."
"Agreed. I mean, the mundane governments aren't perfect, but the Ministry of Magic sounds more and more backwards every time I heard something new about it," Delilah spoke up.
"Still, war? That seems extreme," Sirius spoke up, somewhat surprisingly. "I'm fine with killing Death Eaters, but provoking a continent spanning war isn't… it seems like a waste. Why can't we influence the Ministry without something like that tearing us apart?"
"Agreed! There are plenty of Purebloods who don't think like Death Eaters! If we work with them, we can change things!" Andromeda added.
"And that's the problem with that line of thinking," Mr. Tonks spoke up, giving his wife a pitying look. "You're looking at this through the lens of 'only Purebloods can make decisions and change things.' And that is one of the very problems that will cause friction with the mundane governments. Nobility and un-elected officials making all the choices hasn't been popular for more than half a century in England and Europe. Longer, in some places."
"Yes, that would make things difficult," Delilah said, nodding her head.
"Harry, what do you think?" I suddenly asked him. He'd been silent the whole time, an intensely thoughtful look on his face, and I wanted to know what was going on in his head. "Your life is entwined in this matter as much as anyone else thanks to Moldy Shorts. What is your opinion?"
While the adults looked a bit put off at me asking for Harry's thoughts, seeing him as just a child, I knew he was smarter and more insightful than many of his peers.
"I-I don't know," he admitted after a moment to think my question over. "I don't know enough about the situation to make a decision. Part of me wants to just take out Tom and his minions, end it all then and there. No muss, no fuss."
He sighed. "But then again, I've seen what the Ministry is like, even if it was just a brief glimpse of the surface. And I didn't like what I saw. So many politicians doing nothing to help people and more concerned with favors and bribes, the suppression of Muggleborn, the sheer bloody incompetence… the ingrained corruption won't be removed with a please and thank you."
"Muggleborn aren't oppressed in the Ministry!" Dora protested.
"At the award ceremony, I didn't meet a single Muggleborn Ministry official," Harry claimed. "There were none of them in positions of power. Not to mention the unsubtle comments about me overcoming my mother's 'low birth' a few Purebloods made."
The Metamorph winced at that as Harry shook his head.
"I suppose, though, that if I had to make a decision… it would be for the Path of Fire," he finally replied. "I don't like the idea of so many people getting hurt… of the death and pain and destruction that this will cause. I can't even imagine it! But I agree with Ed, Sam, Remus and Mr. Tonks. It… it might be necessary. To ensure mages aren't treated poorly in the future by the rest of the world. To ensure mages don't end up being treated like I was by the Dursleys."
At that, the people around the table winced. "There… surely there's a better way!" Dora weakly uttered.
"Is there?" I shot back. "I don't know if there is. At least, not one that doesn't involve copious amounts of assassination, blackmail, and extortion."
The Ministry of Magic had plenty of positions that were not hereditary, but the Wizengamot, which voted on the rules and laws that society had to follow, was very much a family business, and that made it harder to get things done since it would be hard to convince them to vote on reforms that would remove their power.
'Not to mention the nepotism and cronyism that infest the bureaucracy of every strata of the government means that even if the Wizengamot passed reforms they'd keep Purebloods in power through sheer lack of inertia and upwards social mobility,' I thought grimly.
"If we are going to decide the fate of the Wizarding World, then I want Amelia brought in on this," Remus said abruptly, laying down his own ultimatum.
Such a thing caused a minor commotion, as Dora didn't want her boss brought into things, same with Sam and Mr. Tonks. They feared she was too close to the problem to see it objectively. And I felt the werewolf just didn't want to keep more secrets from her.
However, Andromeda and Sirius were onboard with his plan. Probably a hint of Pureblood bias going on, but I could also see the advantages of such a thing. Having somebody who was only one or two steps below the Minister in terms of power could be the difference between success and failure.
'And if Amelia is brought in, then it might be necessary to have the Greengrasses read into the situation as well,' I mused, and voiced this thought, to an expected amount of hesitation.
The argument continued long into the night, but in the end, Harry's words swayed the rest. Perhaps it was a part of the Boy Who Lived mythos influencing them, or maybe they'd always known that the Path of Fire was the only option we could possibly take to ensure a better future, but the decision was finally made.
'After all, the Path of Ice – eliminate only key targets, extend mercy to those undeserving of it, and hoping it never happens again while changing absolutely nothing – was the option Dumbledore chose in the first fight against Voldemort, and look how well that turned out,' I thought spitefully.
And thus, the Path of Fire was the only option remaining that could possibly change things for the better, instead of acting like ostriches and hoping events would pass us by. We did not choose it lightly. The inevitable war would be on all of our hands after this. But what else could we do that hadn't already been tried?
Additionally, Amelia Bones and Cyrus Greengrass would be given part of the puzzle. They'd be told about Voldemort, his Horcruxes, and my seer abilities to explain it all away. Mention of my Muggle industrial endeavors would be kept secret for now.
Nobody was happy with everything, but that was the nature of a compromise. We got most of what we wanted in the end, though.
The final Horcrux (Nagini didn't count as I wasn't sure if she'd been turned into one yet) would be destroyed. It was time to remind Voldemort that all things have a time to die.
111 &&& 111
"You must be joking," Cyrus said, the head of House Greengrass staring at me as if I'd tried to make a funny joke but failed.
Seated next to him, Madam Bones was drilling Remus with a glare that had the poor guy shrinking in his chair.
"Afraid not," I said, taking a sip of tea. We were all seated at a table in my apartment a couple days after the big discussion.
On my side of the table were Harry and Remus, the duo sitting on the right and left of me, respectively. Across from us were the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the spokeswizard of the Wizengamot's latest political block, the Gold Faction.
Both were ignoring the delightful tea I'd set out for them. Well, actually, it was Dobby who'd done it, but still. Quite rude to let it go cold.
Right now, we were all digesting dinner. I'd invited the duo over for a private discussion, and we'd all eaten a lovely roast with gravy. Neither Bones nor Greengrass had been expecting the reveal I'd told them after a light and fluffy souffle for dessert, and were still trying to process everything.
"You expect me to believe that, that You Know Who is not only alive, but he created SIX bloody Horcruxes to do so?!" he demanded angrily.
Madam Bones twitched angrily at the mention of those horrid creations, but didn't let up on her glare.
I wasn't surprised to hear that both of them knew of this particular brand of Dark magic. Their houses were old, with their own skeletons in the closet and archives no doubt full of forbidden secrets. Hell, I'm pretty sure the reason Madam Bones knows what they are is because one of her ancestors had made a Horcrux! They had been necromancers in the distant past, after all.
Instead, I simply gestured at the objects lying on the table in front of them: the ruined Diadem of Ravenclaw, and the charred remains of Slytherin's Locket. We didn't have the Diary or the Goblet anymore, Dumbledore and the goblins having confiscated what was left.
Harry also lifted his bangs, revealing his altered scar. And with the Ring still locked away… yeah, six Horcuxes was a lot, especially with Nagini being an unknown factor still.
"I had heard… rumors of such a thing," Madam Bones finally admitted. "Those who work closely with Gringotts, and were brought on to inspect the Chamber of Secrets were… loose-lipped. But they remained that. Mere rumors."
Shen then switched her glare to me. "But if you knew of this, why didn't you bring this up to the proper authorities?!"
"Can you blame us?" I asked, unphased by her stink-eye. "The Ministry has a bad track record with… anything, really. And with Death Eaters still free and bribing everyone this way and that… it was deemed safer to do it this way."
"It's worked, too," Harry piped up, only flinching a little when Madam Bones looked at him. "We managed to get rid of most of Voldemort's Horcruxes."
"That's the other thing," Cyrus said, tapping a finger against the rim of his teacup. "The way you found this all out is questionable as well. You? A seer?"
"I know, it's hard to believe," I said with a shrug. "But I've proven my credentials, haven't I?"
I'd rolled the dice and done some other Divination to show off my abilities, plus let them in on secrets I couldn't possibly know.
For Madam Bones, I'd told her about the layout of the Department of Mysteries, something I shouldn't be aware of at all, as well as the fact Lucious Malfoy hid some Dark artifacts under the floorboards in a certain room of his manor. To convince Cyrus, I'd had to dig a bit deeper into my bag, but letting him know about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, something he only knew about due to his position in the Wizengamot and through his trade deals, had helped a little.
"Those parlor tricks were far too accurate to be the work of a Seer," Bones retorted. "I don't know how you know all of that, but it's not because you have the Sight."
"Are you so sure about that?" I responded.
"There's also the matter of your status," Cyrus pointed out. "A Squib has never been confirmed to be a Seer."
"Well, as it turns out, I'm not actually a Squib," I declared, taking another sip. "It's just that my oracular abilities were too strong, and I cannot use wand magic as a result."
I wasn't lying about my Squib-ness, not anymore thanks to the ritual, but I still couldn't use wands, so this was a convenient excuse. Seeing the two of them gain thoughtful looks made me smile.
According to Flamel's notes, true Seers were generally far weaker in magic than most mages. Still strong enough to use wands, but barely. Professor Trelawny was a perfect example of this. She barely used a wand in the books, save for a moment in the 7th when she'd been dropping crystal balls on Death Eaters.
By explaining the lack of a wand and Hogwarts education as a result of my Farsighted abilities suppressing my regular magic, it allowed me to better insert myself into the Wizarding World, and get the two Purebloods on my side. They, like Sirius and Andromeda, still had their biases, so I was working with those to get them to believe me.
"If you are telling the truth, then this is incredibly serious," Madam Bones said darkly. "If I had known sooner…"
"You'd have been able to do nothing," I replied, cutting her off. "Fudge has already cut the Auror's budget several times since the end of the last war, and him and his cronies want nothing that might ruin their beloved 'peace.' Not to mention Malfoy and the other Death Eaters benefit from a weakened peacekeeping department. Worst case scenario, you'd have been canned if you tried to convince that potbellied buffoon of Voldy's return."
The truth hurt, and she grimaced at my words, unable to refute them.
"I could have sent Aurors to watch Crouch, or gone after his son-!" she tried to protest instead, but I shook my head.
"Not without tipping them off you were onto their scheme," I said.
"Still, a war?" Cyrus asked, desperately hoping for it not to be the case. "Another one in less than two decades?"
"It's the only way," I claimed solemnly.
"The world won't change unless it's forced to do so," Harry added. "I hate it as much as you do, but what else is there? I trust Ed. He hasn't steered me wrong yet."
"We are planning on destroying the final Horcrux soon," I informed the duo, offering an olive branch. "Come with us, and see it for yourself."
The duo shared a look, before nodding slowly.
"When?" Amelia asked.
I checked my wristwatch. "Now, if you wish," I announced. "The original plan was for a midnight operation, but it's late enough there should be no witnesses about."
They blinked, not having expected that, but I didn't want them to leave, get cold feet, or bring onlookers with them who might spill the beans.
We'd planned to eliminate the Horcrux tonight, with or without Bones and Greengrass, but having them be there would be a great way to prove our sincerity.
"Let's go, then," Cyrus said, draining his teacup to fortify his nerves. "Are we Aparrating or going by Floo?"
"I have anti-Aparation wards around the building, and it's not hooked up to the Floo Network," I said, not trusting either method at all. "We're going by Portkey."
I stood up, still holding my teacup. "The password is 'Snake Eater.'"
At that, I vanished, and went from my cozy apartment to the cool countryside, the stars twinkling overhead. A couple seconds later there were more pops as the rest came through, blinking a bit at the change in light levels.
Inky and Dobby, sensing our departure, would be sending the messages about our change in plans right now, and as I expected, a minute later the entire conspiracy had gathered together for this monumental event.
"Bit earlier than expected," Delilah said in a slightly scolding tone.
"Sorry, but I saw an opportunity and took it," I replied, gesturing to the two newcomers. Poor Dora was cringing under Madam Bones' glare, and Sirius was awkwardly chatting with his fellow Pureblood and member of the Gold Faction.
"Fair enough. Now, why are we in front of a rundown shack?" she asked, something that the rest all wanted to know, if the way they quieted down and turned to me was any clue.
"Welcome to Little Hanglington! And behold! The Gaunt Manor," I said mockingly, introducing the decrepit building. "Home of the Gaunts, the last House directly descended from Salazar Slytherin himself."
"They've fallen on hard times," Cyrus muttered, eyeing the place.
"They're extinct," Bones stated. "The last living member of the House was sentenced to Azkaban for murdering Muggles and then died there decades ago."
"Not entirely true," I informed them. "See, this is where a young girl named Merope Gaunt was born, and lived most of her life. She was a Squib, but she was also in love with a nearby rich, young dandy named Tom Riddle. Of course, He didn't love her. Didn't know she existed at all."
I raised a finger. "So one day, she brewed a love potion."
"I see where this is going, but not the point," Andromeda muttered.
"She drugged poor Mr. Riddle, and conceived a child in a scandalous, whirlwind romance that shocked the sleepy town. Of course, since the fumes of a love potion can harm a fetus, she stopped making it and was unable to keep dosing her lover. He was soon freed and left her, and since her own family had kicked her out for the 'sin' of bedding a Muggle, she was forced to pawn her belongings and sell herself to make ends meet."
I shook my head. "Didn't matter, in the end. She died giving birth to Tom Marvelo Riddle Jr. in the bed of an orphanage. Or, as the world would know him…"
I pulled out an Ofuda and tossed it into the air. Magical flames formed letters, which made the name, before rearranging themselves just as had been done in the Chamber of Secrets.
Gasps rang out from Amelia Bones and Cyrus Greengrass. The rest were already aware of this secret, but seeing it like this really drove it home how pathetic his portmanteau had been.
"He who would be Voldemort was named shortly before his mother died, and he grew up in the orphanage. The rest of his youth is of little concern, but know he grew up cold, spiteful, and cruel. And one day, he learned of his heritage as the last true Heir of Slytherin and unleashed the Basilisk fifty years ago in Hogwarts. That was when he made his first Horcrux using the death of Myrtle Warren."
I sighed. "He didn't stop there. Years later, he confronted his uncle, Morfin Gaunt. He stole the Gaunt Family Ring, then turned it into a Horcrux by murdering his own father and the entire Riddle Family. Afterwards, he Imperiused Morfin and Oblivated him, making the poor bastard think he was responsible for the deed. Then, after his uncle was carted away, Tommy boy hid the Horcrux here, in the place his mother was born."
I waved a hand at the building. "That's why we are here. To destroy the Horcrux hidden within. Best to burn the whole place down, honestly. Some nasty curses are in there to trick and trap anyone foolish enough to enter. Sirius? Remus? As we planned."
The two walked up and began casting spells. First, they set up wards to redirect attention and block sound. Then, they started forming a large, earthen dome around the shack. Only two small holes were left open: one at the top, like a chimney, and another at the front, facing the door.
Without needing another word from me, they pointed their wands at that opening, and uttered "Pestis Incendium!"
Tongues of Fiendfyre in the form of griffons, dragons, and manticores shot forth before Amelia or Cyrus could do or say anything, and they struck the entrance of the shack. A hissing scream echoed forth from the undead snake nailed to the door, and it soon turned to ash, ending its cry.
The rest of the building quickly caught fire, and Sirius and Remus both raised more earthen walls to block off the front hole and surround the cursed flames so they couldn't spread.
Fiendfyre could devour anything, even magic, but just like regular fire it took a while to burn through solid stone and packed barricades of dirt. It could even burn out once it ran out of oxygen to fuel it. Although water couldn't extinguish it, depriving the cursed flames of oxygen was the only mundane way to stop the spread.
A couple minutes later, as we were watching sparks and smoke spew from the hole at the top of the dome, a horrific, deathly wail tore through the air, setting everyone's teeth on edge. A black wisp, darker than the smoke around it, began to rise into the sky, illuminated by the moon.
It writhed, trying to do something, anything, to escape its fate, but after a moment the dark cloud collapsed in on itself, vanishing forever. Yet even though it was dead and gone, its presence had left its mark.
"That… that was a Horcrux," Amelia uttered in a shaky voice.
"Sure was," I said grimly. "Remus, Sirius, cover it up."
They nodded and plugged the hole on the top and reinforced the dome by piling more earth onto it. In a few hours the Fiendfyre would be extinguished completely, only ash remaining of the Gaunt's domain.
'When Voldemort comes back, he is definitely going to notice,' I thought with a grimace.
He might not check up on his Horcruxes, but he'd need to come to this place to steal his father's bones for his ritual. Odds were him or his minion would notice the lack of a shack, and then he'd panic and try to look for his other Horcruxes, discovering the deception. There was always the chance he wouldn't notice. But I wasn't going to bet on that.
'It could be a good thing. He might panic and start creating more to try and make back-ups, and go over the limit, further destabilizing his soul. Doing so might even kill the snake-faced bastard. But I can't count on that,' I thought.
I decided to just roll with it for now. And curse the bones of Tom Riddle Senior to ensure that his resurrection would go poorly. Yeah, that was the best course of action.
Amelia and Cyrus were still shaken, and even the other witches and wizards looked stunned that their mission went well, and that Voldemort had been dealt a major blow.
On the other hand, Sam and Delilah looked pleased everything had gone well without any incidents, while Harry had a vicious, vindictive grin.
"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" I said, clapping my hands to get their attention. "I think we all deserve something sweet. Lemon Drizzle Cake and tea is on me!"
We all went back to my penthouse suite for a late night, post-mission victory party. And yes, the cake and victory were both delightfully sweet.
Best of all? Amelia Bones and Cyrus Greengrass decided to join up with our little conspiracy. It was a good day. But it wasn't over quite yet.
'I still have one more thing to do,' I thought to myself as I bid my guests goodbye for evening, leaving just me and Harry alone in the apartment. Soon, though. After I tucked Harry into bed.
111 &&& 111
There was a pop, and once more I was back in Little Hanglington. It was well past midnight, the witching hour to be precise, which I found quite fitting, and everyone else was asleep or at their own homes.
"Is it gone?" I asked Inky, my loyal House Elf at my side.
"Yes, Master Eddy," he said.
I nodded. "Good. Make a hole, please."
Inky snapped his fingers, and a part of the giant dome fell apart, allowing me to see inside. The Fiendfyre was indeed done burning, not even embers left.
Walking inside, my boots crunching on the ashen remains, I headed to the center and began to blinding sift through the soot, a single Lumos Ofuda providing light over my shoulder.
Finally, after a few minutes of searching, I found what I'd been looking for: a black stone, with a few white marks upon it: a single line inside of a circle which was itself inside of a triangle. I swallowed, cradling the tiny stone in my hands, and rose, walking out of the dome.
"Inky, close it," I requested. "Then leave me for a bit."
My House Elf sealed the dome back up, making it so none would know it had been opened, and then he left me alone with a pop.
Staring at the stone that was utterly pristine despite the cursed flames that had surrounded it earlier, I suddenly felt nervous. This was reckless. Foolish. An idea I'd had for years. But now that it was finally in my hands… I hesitated.
'You can do it, Ed,' I thought softly. 'I can… I can do this! All you have to do is turn it three times.'
Taking a deep breath, I turned the stone over thrice, before uttering the name of the spirit I wished to commune with.
"Death."
For a moment, nothing happened, and I wondered if perhaps it hadn't worked. But then a chill ran down my spine, and everything suddenly seemed muted. Colors dimmed, the wind stopped blowing, and I couldn't shake the feeling of somebody peering over my shoulder.
"H-hello?" I called out.
"Hello, child," something replied, and I stiffened. The voice was old and young. Man and woman. Hispanic, Chinese, British and a thousand other accents and ethnicities rolled into one. All whispering in my ear.
"I must say, I did not expect to ever be summoned by you… or by anyone, really. Not after those three brothers," the voice of Death admitted, causing goosebumps to cover my arms.
Something touched my shoulder, and I felt like it would be a very bad idea to try and look at it.
"I-I have questions," I said, trying to find my courage. "And I was hoping you might answer them."
"Hmmm… very well. I suppose I can grant you this boon for being the first soul to ever try to call upon me this way," Death replied. "But only three! So ask wisely."
I licked my lips. This was better than I'd hoped, but also not nearly enough to satisfy me. Still, I'd never have a better chance, and began to arrange my thoughts, trying to phrase my limited questions to get the best outcome.
"Why did you reincarnate me with all of my memories?" I finally queried. It was the one question I'd had ever since I realized just what had happened.
"I found your soul traveling through the Spaces Between," Death informed me. "How you got there, I have no idea, but you slipped through the cracks, so to speak, and were unable to reach your designated afterlife. And considering the size of Creation, or the Multiverse as you know it, there was no easy way I could find out where you originated from. Not without invasive and destructive methods of inquiry your soul likely wouldn't survive."
Though I couldn't see it, I somehow knew Death had shrugged. "As for why I saved you and granted a second chance with all of your memories? I might be Death, but Life is still precious. To allow a precious spark of Creation to fade in the Void would be a terrible thing to allow to happen. So, I slipped what was left of you into the stillborn body of Erroneous Hunch Junior. Your soul needed time to settle, which is why it took three years before your previous memories began to appear."
A chuckle that echoed through my very soul rang out. "Though I admit I was surprised to discover your world knew of mine. Not impossible, given the nature of the multiverse, but still interesting to watch how you have changed the path it should have originally taken. That is why I left your memories intact. Curiosity, and nothing more."
I took a shuddering breath at that. 'So, it was all just a mistake. Happenstance. There was never a greater purpose.'
In an odd way, that was actually a relief to hear. There was no grand destiny for me to fulfill, no Fate I had to fight against. I was me, and everything I'd done was because I'd chosen to do so.
That didn't mean I had no worries, though, so for my next question, I decided to find out more.
"Am I doing the right thing?" I asked. Was the path I was leading Harry and the others down the right one?
"A question with no real answer, I am afraid," Death replied, sounding apologetic. "Right? Wrong? For whom? Who decides this? I am Death. I am the end. I am reviled, but also inevitable. I cannot exist without Life, so does that make existence evil for allowing Death to exist?"
Another ethereal chuckle rang out from the twilight around me. "But that doesn't answer your question, does it?"
For a moment, more silence, then finally Death responded. "What you are doing will lead to several potential outcomes. One is the extinction of all Life upon this world. Those with and those without will clash, and destroy each other. Another is the Death of Magic itself, and Science will reign supreme with mankind seeking the distant stars. There is also the chance that Magic will be victorious, and the mundane will be drowned beneath a resurgence of spirits as the Veil breaks, allowing the Old World to return. But just as equally possible is Magic and Science walking hand in hand into the future."
"I believe it is the latter outcome you desire," Death mused, the millions of voices sounding oddly excited. "And while I cannot interfere, I must admit, that is the one that appeals the most to me. So, yes, child, I do believe you are on the right path, even if it is paved in blood and bones and hardship for you and others."
I almost asked 'why' but held my tongue, not wanting to waste my last question. Even so, I couldn't help but wonder what Death wanted from a world where magic and science were united.
Silence fell once more, and a couple minutes passed before I figured out what I wanted my final query to be.
"How can I create a Philosopher's Stone quickly, cheaply, and easily?" I asked. It wasn't the real question I wanted to know, but all of the other inquiries I'd desired to make were too difficult to utter, or too stupid.
'Was it possible to return to my old world and life?'
'Could I commune with the spirits on the other side of the Veil?'
'What is the meaning of life?'
'Is God real?'
So many questions, yet none of them were good enough to be asked. In the end, I settled on something that was simple, but necessary for me. I could eventually find a way to create the pinnacle of Alchemy through Flamel's notes, but I feared it would take years I did not have.
I was running a bunch of businesses that were going global, and helping out with a secret conspiracy to save the Wizarding World! I did not have the time to waste! So, if there was a way to have the most important thing all of my plans required given to me right now, then I'd spend my last question willingly for it.
Death, it seemed, found my query to be most amusing, if the mirthful laughter it let out was any clue.
"So selfless," Death said fondly. "I know this is not what you wanted to ask, but you still do so in order to help others. I do not hate that."
Something pressed against my back, and I felt hands caress my cheeks. Eventually, Death leaned in and whispered the secrets of Alchemy into my ear, and I finally knew what I needed to create a Philosopher's Stone.
"Thank you," I murmured, bowing my head.
"You may continue to use my Stone for as long as you wish," Death said, and I felt a hand pat my head. "However, do not summon me again. Not unless you are finally ready to begin your next Journey."
With that blessing and warning given, I felt Death receded. The stars and moon returned to their full brightness, and the wind began to blow once more.
I shuddered and collapsed to my knees, tears spilling down my face. I didn't know why I was crying, exactly. Perhaps it was the relief of knowing some of the question's I'd longed for. Maybe it was due to meeting an entity on a much higher order of existence than myself. Whatever the reason, I wept, letting the tension seep out of my body.
It took a while, but I eventually recovered. Calling for Inky to take me back home, I just wanted the day to finally be over.
'At least I get to keep the shiny rock,' I thought with bit of amusement as I tucked one of the Deathly Hallows into a drawer on my nightstand. I'd figure out what to do with it later.
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Author's Note: Pardon the lateness for this chapter. Currently on vacation in a place with a pretty different time zone than I'm used to
Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Rubedo
Chapter Text
Chapter 92: Rubedo
"It all seems so simple in hindsight," I said with a sigh, looking down at my workbench. There, resting in a gold bowl, was a thumb-sized piece of what appeared to be ruby.
However, it was not a mere ruby, but rather my first successful transmutation of a Philosopher's Stone.
"Nick and Perry must be laughing at me up in Heaven," I thought with a grimace, running a hand over my face.
Thanks to Death whispering the secrets of alchemy into my ear, I now knew how to create a Philosopher's Stone. More to the point, I knew how to make them cheaply, efficiently, and as often as I wanted.
'And it is incredibly easy to create a Philosopher's Stone. It's not difficult at all!' I thought in a bit of frustrated bemusement.
It was the transmutation process itself that was the hardest part for making one. The ingredients? Incredibly easy to obtain. What I needed? Aluminum powder, diamonds, fine white sugar, and perfectly round pearls.
I could see why it was seen as a legendary item… in the distant past. These days, I could buy everything for less than a hundred quid! The diamonds were super easy to get thanks to lab-grown synthetic crystals. Or, you know, making them myself out of alchemy using some coal. Same with pearls, sugar, and aluminum. Mass production and industrialization had made everything quite easy to obtain.
Even the process itself wasn't that complicated once Death had explained it in layman's terms I could understand. Alchemy was just breaking matter down and recombining it when you got to the nitty-gritty details. Infusing the substance with magical energy and granting it new and unusual properties was the hard part. Now, I knew how to do all of it in a simple, streamlined manner!
'I understand why the Flamels kept the knowledge of how to make a Philosopher's Stone cryptic and encoded,' I mused. It would be so easy to abuse this information in the modern era, and it was too expensive when they first discovered the secret.
I decided to stop kicking myself and instead think about the ways I could use it. Just as Nicholas and his journey described, the Philosopher's Stone was a mystical battery crossed with an information storage device.
A single Stone contained a set amount of magical energy that was determined at its creation, along with a form of information that usually took the form of a spell. This spell was imbued into the Philosopher's Stone at creation as well, though the method for this varied. It could be implanted with a wand by casting it at the moment of formation, or one could use a complex combination of runes and arithmancy to essentially 'code' the spell into the Stone.
Then, by using the magical energy within the Stone to power the spell, it was possible to perform magic without a wand or foci. In this way, the Flamels had simply imbued a Transmutation spell into the Stone so they could transmute water into Elixir of Life based on a sample stored within the Stone itself, as well as change base metals into gold whenever they wished with another Transmutation spell.
It wasn't just spells, either. Ward and rune schema, samples of potions, and entire pre-made rituals could be stored inside the Philosopher's Stone indefinitely, only using them when needed. To say nothing of other things, like memories. Or, in other words: data. Lots and lots of data.
Inside of the tiny ruby-like stone in front of me, I safely could keep several hours' worth of memories. This meant in time I could probably find a way to store electronic information as well, creating crystal-wafer microchips with more RAM and storage than any supercomputer on the market today – or in the future.
Perhaps the most important aspect of the Philosopher's Stone, though, was that it was 100% efficient. There was no degradation of the materials or energy stored within. A single ounce of Elixir of Life had been able to be stored by the Flamels for centuries, replicated endlessly without any issues, even across multiple Stones. The original Elixir sample was long gone, but it still worked as if it had been freshly brewed all those years ago.
I also theorized that if I put, say, a million watts of electricity into a Philosopher's Stone, or the magical equivalent, then I could just leave it alone for a century and still have a million watts inside when I came back to it, ready to be used. There was no loss of energy during transfer, either. Normally there was always a bit of energy lost when it was being used. That wasn't the case for the Philosopher's Stone. It was, simply put, the perfect battery.
Furthermore, figuring out how to create the Philosopher's Stone had given me insights into finding a way to turn magic directly into electricity, and vice-versa. I'd need more tests, but I had a feeling I'd be able to power runes and wards by hooking them up to an electrical grid in a year or two.
'Combined with the ritual to convert thermal energy, like from a volcano, into magical energy, I now have a way to reliably create as many Philosopher's Stone as I need,' I mused. With this, I'd be able to finish the ritual to turn all of humanity into mages!
A new idea hit me, and I began to think it over. 'Actually, I could use the Tethys generator to create electricity, then convert a portion of that into magic which would go back into powering the runes themselves, which would create more conjured water to turn the turbines and make more electricity, repeating the whole thing again…'
I paused mid-thought and sat there, blinking slowly and incredulously. Had I just invented a perpetual energy generation method?
Swallowing a bit, I started to run through the numbers in my head. The Aquamenti rune sequence installed on the current model of Tethys hydro-electric generator drew in enough ambient mana from the Ley Lines beneath the building to passively produce enough water to turn a turbine that was able to create a whole megawatt of power per month.
Take a bit of that, maybe a hundred watts or so, off the top to turn back into magic so it could power the runes without relying on the Ley Lines, was something worth looking into. If it worked, of course.
'I need to find out how efficient it would be to turn magic into electricity, and vice-versa,' I thought to myself.
The idea of perpetual energy was incredibly tempting, but I needed to know how much magic would actually be produced from a single watt of electricity, and if the ritual to convert the two types of energy would even be worth it.
'Yet if this works, then aside from the initial energy costs of starting up a generator, they'd become self-sufficient relatively quickly afterwards.'
My excitement was almost too much to contain, but I forced myself to calm down. Right now, I needed a cool head so I didn't rush into anything without thinking it through.
'First things first, I need to show off my successful alchemical experiment,' I thought, holding up the Philosopher's Stone I'd created. The ceiling light passed through it, making a kaleidoscope of a dozen different shades of red appear on my face, and I grinned widely.
I got up and left my workspace, and as I stepped out into the living room I found Harry watching the big screen TV… with Susan?
'When did he invite her over?' I wondered. They were sitting quite close together, too…
I scratched the back of my head before shrugging. I'd been cooped up in my lab for close to a week now getting the Philosopher's Stone made, so I guessed I might have missed a thing or two.
"Hello, Harry, Susan," I said, announcing my presence. Both of them jerked in surprise, not having expected me to emerge from my lair so soon.
"H-hey Ed," Harry stammered, scooting awkwardly away from Susan, and I realized I must have just interrupted something. Had he been leaning in for a kiss earlier when I walked in?
'Oops,' I thought. 'I think I just cockblocked him.' I'd make it up to him later. For now, I just greeted them with a smug, knowing smile.
"Hello, Mr. Rose," Susan said politely, trying to keep a blush off of her cheeks.
"Hope you two aren't doing anything Delilah and I would do," I said as I walked over to the kitchen. I suddenly felt rather thirsty.
"Shouldn't it be 'wouldn't do?'" Susan asked, confused.
"Nah, because anything my girlfriend and I would do is definitely not something I'd want you two to be doing right now. Certainly not on the couch, at least. Harry has a room, after all," I drawled, and grinned smugly as they both flushed bright red.
"A-are you done with your experiments?" Harry asked, trying not to stammer too much and change the subject.
"Sure am. Well, for now, at least. I accomplished what I set out to do," I said, tossing the ruby red rock into the air and catching it a few times.
Naturally, that drew their eyes, and Harry was the first to recognize it. After all, he had one just like it hidden in his sock drawer.
"I-is that…?!" Susan gasped, catching on a moment later.
"Oh, this little thing?" I hummed, unable to suppress the grin I had. "Not much. Just a Philosopher's Stone."
"Oh, wow!" Harry gasped. "You finally did it!"
"You made a Philosopher's Stone?!" Susan shrieked.
"Sure did," I chuckled. "It took forever. Finally figured it out thanks to some help."
I'd have to thank Death the next time I saw them. I wonder what psychopomps (or whatever the Hell it was) liked as gifts?
Susan continued to imitate a fish on dry land for a few seconds before recovering from her shock.
"HOW?!"
"Magic," I replied.
She shot me the most deadpan glare a fourteen-year-old could muster, and I just snorted.
"Seriously, it was magic. Technically, it was alchemy, but that's a branch of magic," I said.
"What are you going to do with it?" Harry wondered.
"More experiments, for starters," I told him. "After that? Probably nothing."
"Nothing? You have one of the most legendary artifacts ever created, and you won't do anything?" Susan asked in disbelief.
"Well, yeah. It's not exactly useful as it is. Needs more refining," I said. "It's empty. There's nothing inside of this, just raw magic. I suppose it could help sustain a ward or runic sequence, but that's it."
Madam Bones' niece still looked at me as if I was both a genius and a moron, before shaking her head incredulously.
"Okay, you've done the impossible and consider it nothing special. Whatever," she huffed.
"That's the spirit!" I chuckled. "I don't mind if you tell your aunt, but don't make too much of a fuss, alright?"
Susan rolled her eyes at me, and Harry patted her sympathetically on the back.
"Let's talk about other things," I suggested, moving on to a new topic. "Susan, will you be going to the Quidditch World Cup?"
"Yes! With Hannah. Auntie is too busy. She'll be with the Minister, and will be in charge of the security detail for him and the other VIPs," she said, sounding a bit wistful.
"That moron is having the head of the entire department acting as a mere security guard?" I demanded incredulously.
"Yes, I think it's some sort of powerplay to punish her for all of the 'I told you so's' she gave him when he stationed the Dementors at Hogwarts and… well…"
"Yeah, I heard. Harry summoned a spirit and wiped 'em out," I said. I then tapped my chin. "How many Dementors are even left, now?"
"I don't know," Susan replied with a shrug. "Auntie says the Dementors are being unusually secretive… more so than usual, at least. But according to records in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, there were around four thousand Dementors in 1921. Their numbers were probably falsified or they were miscounted, so probably twice as many as they claim. Or more, since it's been nearly a hundred years after all."
"Makes sense," I muttered. "Despite being called 'creatures' they are as smart as any witch or wizard. More, perhaps, given the average intelligence of most Ministry officials."
Susan and Harry both snorted at that but didn't make a word against my statement.
"Well, enough doom and gloom. It's getting close to dinner, so who wants curry?"
That perked the duo up, and I got out the ingredients for some nice homemade food. Inky helped a little (and by that, I mean he made most of it), and when it was ready, Harry and Susan were ready to dig into the plates of curry and rice. It was nice having a meal with family again, and I raised a cup of sparkling cider in a toast.
"Here's to the end of one school year and the start of the next, kids," I said. "And here's to the Irish winning the Quidditch World Cup next week!"
"I'm hoping for the Bulgarians to cinch the win, actually," Harry replied, and I gasped and clutched my chest in mock despair.
"Abandoned by my own brother! Oh, how you wound me!" I swooned.
"My penpal likes them, so that's who I'm rooting for," he replied with a laugh. "He's gonna be at the Cup, too. We're hoping to meet up before the match."
"Good for you two. Oh, and speaking of penpals, guess who finally got back to Delilah and confirmed they'd be here for the Cup?" I asked him.
"The Delacours?" Harry guessed.
"Got it in one!" I said, shooting him finger guns.
"Who are the Delacours?" Susan inquired.
The Hufflepuff looked intrigued by this talk of foreign friends, and I let Harry explain that a couple of cute French girls were going to be there. Watching the way her face gained a look of jealousy when he mentioned Gabrielle made me stifle a snort of amusement.
'Poor, poor girl. She has it bad,' I thought. 'And Harry is as dense as ever.'
I'd let them figure their own relationship out on their own though. Better that way. Funnier, too!
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"This is a Philosopher's Stone?" Merula asked, holding up the red rock skeptically.
"Sure is," I said with a grin.
"Huh. Thought it would be… I dunno… shinier?" she mused.
Eventually, the Potion Mistress shrugged and handed it back to me. "It's neat, I guess. Not really one for Alchemy, but it's impressive you made one."
"You're taking this surprisingly well," I commented.
"Yeah, well, I figured that you'd do something ridiculous like this at this some point," Merula snorted.
"So, what did you call me here for?" I asked, putting the ruby red stone away.
"Well, boss, I think I did it," she said with a grin.
"The cure for Dementia and Alzheimer's?" I inquired eagerly, and she nodded.
"I borrowed a bit from the Legilimancy Potion, mixed it with an altered Memory Potion recipe, and figured out a way to have the brain restore lost memories and heal some scarring and degradation," Merula explained. "It's not a perfect cure. If the patient is too far gone it won't reverse what's already happened, but it will effectively stop any further loss of mental faculties."
"That's incredible!" I praised, and she preened.
"You know it," she said with a smirk.
"Do you think it's possible to ever create a potion to completely reverse the effects?" I wondered, and she shrugged.
"If you'd asked me a year ago, I'd have said no. But if I can make a potion that stops somebody's brain from turning to mush, then I can make something to unmush it," Merula declared proudly.
"Excellent," I said, resisting the urge to rub my hands together. "Now comes the important question: can you mass produce it?"
"No," she replied. "I can whip up a giant batch if I have the ingredients, and the shelf life is pretty damn long, but it's never gonna be more than a bespoke, limited quantity product."
"And you can't substitute non-magical ingredients for it?" I inquired, just to make sure.
"Absolutely not," Merula said with a shake of her head. "I've cut it down as best I can: replaced dragon's blood with salamander blood, Whomping Willow Bark with regular willow bark, and Century Ginseng with gingko biloba, but I cannot replace the two key ingredients with anything less than something equally magical."
"And those are?"
"Alihotsy leaves, and Exploding Fluid of an Erumpent," Merula stated.
"Damn," I grunted. "How effective is it?"
"With just the two magical ingredients… I'd say half as effective at best," she replied after thinking it over. "It also doesn't last as long."
"How long does the semi-magical potion last?" I asked.
"Without precise testing I can't be sure, but maybe… five years? Let's say four to be on the safe side," Merula told me.
"And if I were to keep using only magical ingredients for this Anti-Dementia Potion?"
"Oh, forever," she said. "Or at least for the rest of their lives."
"You sure?" I asked in surprise.
"No, not entirely," she admitted. "Again, without testing it on people, I can't be sure. But I am fairly confident the effects would last at least fifty years, if not more."
"Hmm… well, we have options, then," I said.
I didn't like the idea of selling people a potion that wasn't a full cure. It felt too much like the American health insurance model. But I didn't have unlimited money, nor were there unlimited amounts of materials…
I paused as I realized I could, in fact, have infinite materials on hand, and I took out the Philosopher's Stone from my pocket, staring at it.
Samples of Dragon's blood, Erumpent fluid, and many other magical ingredients could be stored inside of a Philosopher's Stone upon its creation, alongside with a Transmutation ritual. That way, ordinary matter could be converted into new magical ingredients as needed!
'Just like how the Flamels kept an endless supply of Elixir on hand!' I thought to myself.
"I don't like that smile you're wearing on your face, boss," Merula said nervously.
"Oh, just thinking that I might have invented a post-scarcity society completely by accident," I replied, letting out a chuckle that had her cringe.
I then turned to face Merula. "Okay, go with the five-year semi-magical version for now. I'll send samples of it up the chain so it can be approved for medical testing. Though with Sir Briar's support I won't have too many troubles in that regard. Keep on doing great work!"
I then let out a laugh as I walked out, all new ideas swirling around in my head.
"Still creepy, boss!" she shouted at me as I left.
I didn't care. I'd just found the cheat code for civilization!
Chapter 93: Chapter 93: Quidditch World Cup (Part 1)
Chapter Text
Chapter 93: Quidditch World Cup (Part 1)
"Everyone ready?" I asked, looking over at the large group who'd assembled in an empty football field.
Harry had wanted to see the Quidditch World Cup with his friends, and I wanted to ease the integration of Muggleborn families into the magical culture, so invitations had been sent out to every Muggleborn student in his year at Hogwarts. Second and First Years were also invited.
There were a lot of people standing in the field with bags and packed supplies, but between Sirius and Cyrus, I had plenty of tickets to spare. Many parents were accompanying their children, and I knew this would be the first taste of magic for most of them outside of Diagon Alley.
Several misdirection spells and a couple 'Not My Problem' charms ensured that nobody would question it when they all suddenly vanished.
"We're ready," Harry said eagerly. A couple other parents and children nodded, and I pulled out a long length of rope from a pocket.
I enjoyed the way the eyes of the people widened as they watched me pull it out like one of those endless handkerchief stage magicians.
"Alright, then! Everyone, grab onto the rope!" I urged as I held up the disguised Portkey. "One hand on the rope, and don't leave anything behind! Keep your bags on you on held in your other hand!"
Everyone shuffled around, grabbing ahold of the rope. It was just long enough for everyone to do so, and I grinned before checking my watch. Almost time.
"Okay, everyone! You're going to feel a bit of vertigo, so I suggest closing your eyes. When you feel like your stomach isn't in your mouth anymore, you can open them again," I said.
Most of the people followed my instructions. Not everyone did, but I didn't mind. If they wanted to feel like they'd done a flip while standing on their heads, they could.
The hand of the clock ticked down, and then, finally, a tugging sensation in the depths of my chest. It was over as quickly as it happened, though I still heard a few groans from those who hadn't followed my advice.
Opening my eyes, we found ourselves in the countryside, standing in a field of tall grass that had been trampled down by thousands of feet before ours. In the distance, I could make out tents as well as plenty of witches and wizards, many in bizarre 'Muggle' get ups.
"Welcome, welcome!" a couple of witches called out, clipboards in their hands. "You are the Rose party, yes?"
"That's right," I confirmed.
"Wonderful, right on time!" one of the women said. "Here's the map where your plot is located. Please do not go beyond it!"
I took the parchment slip, eyeing the number and size of the lot. Thanks to magical tents we didn't need that much space, even with over a hundred people in our group, but it was still a sizable plot of land near the edge of the site itself.
"Thank you," I said.
I then walked off, leading the party off from the site we'd teleported to, and approached the giant city of tents that was steadily being assembled.
It was half past nine in the morning, as the group had come quite early in order to set up. The match wasn't until this evening, meaning we had several hours to explore and have fun.
Personally, I had a shopping list of things I wanted to get. The Omnioculars were at the top, because those were incredible pieces of magical engineering. I had plans to buy as many as I could. Some to experiment with and see if I could make some sort of magical security cameras using them, others I was going to give to Crucible's security guards, because the different settings and features they had were really useful for military purposes.
As we got closer, it became clear to see that some witches and wizards had very loose definitions of 'blending in.' It wasn't just an elderly wizard wearing a woman's skirt instead of a kilt or regular trousers, there were some who thought the 1920s had never ended and were dressed up in that era's fashion.
Others had dressed up in bright, flamboyant colors, and a couple of Polish mages were wearing what appeared to be live foxes around their necks. It was all very chaotic, and add in the obviously magical tents, camping sets, and stalls? Hiding the existence of magic from the uninitiated would need dozens of Obliviations by day's end.
'So glad I moved the family who lives here away from this mess,' I thought with a hint of relieved exasperation.
Based on advice I'd offered Madam Bones, she had removed the mundane family who owned the farm and land where the World Cup was being held, relocating them to London for a 'vacation' they'd won through a radio raffle.
I'd personally put up the money for this, and even sponsored the radio competition through my company. I did not want the poor man or his wife and children to be repeatedly Obliviated, or to end up in the sight of the Death Eaters if they showed up like they did in the original timeline, and Amelia agreed, having them relocated for a few days before and after.
"Okay, folks, this is our spot!" I called out as we came to a stop in front of a large, roped off rectangle with my name on it in a rather empty clearing in the woods.
There were a few other roped off zones for other groups, and I knew the Weasleys, Abbots, and Greengrasses would be in the area with us. Cyrus had pulled some strings to allow all of us to stick together, so we didn't have to worry about having our tents set up next to any Death Eaters or the like.
Some of the parents eyed the space we had, clearly thinking there wouldn't be enough room for all of us. Their tones changed when the mages in the group started setting up the expanded tents.
Buying enough high-quality ones to fit the entire group cost a pretty knut, but it was a worthy expense. And I'd write it off as a charity thing on my taxes. Which wasn't even a lie! I'd set up a couple charities, one of which was meant to help integrate Muggleborn into the Wizarding World more easily, and these tents were just a part of that process.
"Now remember, boys in the blue tents, girls in the red tents," I said as the parents stared in shock at the vastly different interiors of the seemingly mundane tents. The adults would have to share with the kids. Gender segregated, of course. For the parents' peace of mind.
"The bathrooms work the same as they do anywhere else, no need to worry about digging holes or outhouses, or running out of hot water," I continued. "The kitchens are also fully function, so kids should stay away from the stoves and ovens unless accompanied by an adult. There are bunkbeds for the kids, and plenty of space on the floors for sleeping bags if you want the full camping experience."
"And food?" one of the parents asked.
"Should be some in the pantry and fridge, but that's just snacks. We will order more when lunch and dinner roll around," I informed them. "If you're need anything else, I have gallons you can exchange for pounds."
That made some of the adults (and a couple kids) sigh in relief. I'd seen fourteen different food stalls selling a variety of street food on the way here, and there was no doubt a bunch more near the stadium itself.
'Not to mention all of the crazy toys and trinkets,' I thought with amusement. There would be a lot of money changing hands in the near future.
With that done, everyone rushed about, claiming rooms and bunks in the tents for themselves. They wanted to see what there was, while the adults, still unused to magic, were a bit more cautious as they entered the expanded interiors.
"Everything seems to be going well so far," I commented to Delilah, who nodded.
"Yes, you appear to have things in hand. I'm going to go find the Delacours," Delilah said. "When I do, I'll bring Fleur and Gabbi over here."
"Sure thing. Harry wants to find his pen pal, so he's gonna see if he's here yet," I said. "I'll be here, watching over everyone. And the Weasleys and other magical families should be arriving around noon so we're going to meet up and have hotdogs and other camp stuff for lunch, so invite the Delacours over for that."
Delilah nodded then waved to Harry as she left. The Boy Who Lived, meanwhile, was getting Hedwig out of her cage.
"Here's the letter," Harry said, giving it to his beautiful snowy owl. "Take it to Vik for me, please!"
She made an owl noise of confirmation and took off, and a few of the mundane families watched it with interest and a hint of disbelief. I understood, honestly. Owls? When I'd just shown them instantaneous movement was possible?
'Yeah, I feel the same,' I thought privately to myself. 'But one day I'll modernize these Victorian LARPers. Just not anytime soon.'
"Alright, everyone!" I called out, clapping my hands to get some attention on me. "The game starts this evening! Keep ahold of your ticket to ensure you can actually get into the stadium when its time! If you need anything, just come find me! And have fun!"
My words were met with some chuckles and excited murmurs, and the Muggleborn dragged their parents off to explore the growing festival grounds.
With everyone off to do their own thing, I was left with a couple parents and younger children who hung back. Deciding I'd do something fun, I gathered some magical toys and games and laid them out.
"Who wants to play Gobstones?" I asked, rolling the enchanted marbles around inviting. "Perhaps Exploding Snap would be more your speed?"
Curious children gathered around, and I grinned as I began to teach them the rules for some of the silliest games magical folk had come up with. Seriously, marbles that squirt people with smelly slime? Playing cards that explode like firecrackers? Definitely something only a mage lacking common sense would come up with.
Thankfully, I wasn't lacking that particular skill. Instead, I'd had Sirius modify several copies of these games so they were decidedly less lethal and annoying. Instead of slime, the Gobstones squirted conjured water. Exploding Snap cards just released colorful light and loud noises. And Wizard Chess… well, I kept that the same. Watching a Bishop brutally execute a Knight was still damn cool.
A little bit later, and some of the parents had gotten involved in the games as well. They seemed intrigued by the toys I'd brought, while others were reading copies of my magical history books to familiarize themselves with the world they were now involved with.
I was pleased to see so many people eagerly learning, though I could tell more than a few adults were less than impressed with some of the things they were reading. I made a mental note to discuss some of those things with them to assuage their worries. Nothing else I could really do other than that, sadly, but I hoped it would at least provide some relief to them.
Harry had also wandered off at some point after Hedwig had returned with a reply letter, and he'd gone to find his penpal and the other friends who had also come along to the World Cup.
After checking with a couple of kids who'd nearly lost their eyebrows to a very intense game of Exploding Snap, I noticed that it was starting to get close to noon, and I got up from my lawn chair to grab the iceboxes where I'd stored the cooking ingredients.
While I was getting hot dogs and buns out, my girlfriend returned, several familiar people trailing behind her.
"Ed!" Delilah called out as she returned, and I flashed her a grin before look over at the family accompanying her.
"Mr. and Mrs. Delacour," I said politely, standing up and shaking their hands. "Good to see you again. The same to you, Fleur and Gabrielle."
"Bonjour, Ed," Fleur said, flashing me a smile. "It is good to see you again."
"Merci, Monsieur Rose," Fleur's mother said. She then glanced at the adults nearby, some of whom, both male and female, were staring and drooling at her and her eldest daughter. "Zey are not used to ze Allure, I see."
"Nope. Muggles and Muggleborn," I replied apologetically. "Family of some of Harry's schoolmates. Thought they should see the world they've gotten involved with. Sporting events seemed like a fun way to do so."
"A clever idea," Mr. Delacour commented as Delilah went around to the Allure stricken parents and helped snap them out of it.
"Where is Harry?" Gabi asked, looking around hopefully for the Boy Who Lived.
"Off to find a pen pal," I replied. "He should be back soon."
I then waved a hand for the four of them to join the group. "Come on over. When noon rolls around we'll be having hotdogs and other camping food. Until then, pull up a chair and relax."
The Delacours nodded, and Mr. Delacour waved his wand, conjuring some wooden chairs for them. That, of course, got a reaction out of the onlookers, who were very impressed and began to talk with the French couple about their magic and what it was like in the mystical side of France.
Smiling a little to myself, I watched the situation happily. This is how it was supposed to be! Mundane folk and mages, just hanging out together without any issues.
'Someday,' I vowed to myself. 'Someday, this will be the norm.'
If I wanted such a thing, I would need to work even harder! Later, though. Today was my first vacation in a long while, and I didn't want to suffer burnout. I couldn't help anyone if that happened.
"Who wants hot dogs?!" I called out, holding up a pack of wienies.
Cheers rang out and I laughed as I was soon swarmed by children hungry for processed sausage tubes full of mystery meat.
111 &&& 111
Harry POV
Following Hedwig through the campsite for the Quidditch World Cup, the Boy Who Lived admired the sights as he did so.
Walking through the crowds, Harry was glad he was wearing a baseball cap to cover up his scar. So many people were around that even one person recognizing him could have created a cascade effect that would have trapped him.
Yet even as he moved through them, Harry couldn't help but notice just how many people weren't from England. There were countless groups and individuals from so many different magical cultures!
He recognized only a few of them thanks to Ed's lessons. There were mainland Europeans, of course, and he heard everything from Bulgarian to Dutch to Italian, but there were also swarthy Arabs from the Arabian Ministry of Magic and tanned Asians and Middle Easterners from the Golden Horde. Japanese mages wearing the robes of their magical school mingled with mages from the remnants of the Chinese Jade Empire.
'So many people,' Harry thought, impressed. He'd only had a chance to visit Magical France and the United States so far, but seeing countless other cultures made him want to explore them all!
Harry's daydreams about exploring the world took a backseat as Hedwig let out a "Prek!" and began to circle somebody standing off under the shade of a tree, trying to avoid being seen.
They were a tall person, with baggy clothing that looked like it had come straight out of the seventies. He also wore a hat to cover their face, though theirs was a large, floppy sunhat whose brim drooped heavily.
Given how Hedwig was circling him, and that the young man seemed to recognize the owl, gave Harry confirmation just who he was.
"Vik!" Harry called out, waving a hand towards them.
"Harald?" Vik inquired, using Harry's penname. His accent was thick, and Harry wondered where he was from.
"Yup!" the Boy Who Lived said, holding out a hand to shake.
"You are much shorter than I thought you would be," Vik smirked, looking down at Harry as he shook his hand. "Even moreso than I thought when you said you were still in school."
"Not everyone can be as tall as you!" Harry huffed. "Besides, I'm still growing! A lot taller than I used to be, too!"
It was true! Harry had begun to shoot up like a weed after Christmas! Ed thought he'd hit his teenage growth spurt, and Sirius agreed, mentioning that his dad, James, had also begun to get taller around his 5th year in Hogwarts. Harry was a year early, but that was fine. He was just tired of being the shortest person in his group!
"Did you get here okay?" Harry asked, changing the topic.
"Yes, me and my comrades made it without incident," he replied. "We have been here since the morning. Very early."
He looked around. "Have not seen much of your country, though. Very green and hilly from what I have had a chance to look at."
"Yeah, it can be," Harry agreed. "You should see the Highlands! You haven't seen 'green and hilly' until you've been to Scotland!"
"Heh, I suppose I will," Vik chuckled. "I might just have the chanced to do so later in the year, in fact!"
"Oh! Are you going to be at Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Harry asked, and Vik blinked.
"How do you know about that?" he asked. "I only know because my headmaster had to tell my… manager… about it, so he knew not to push me too hard and give me time off."
"My big brother has connections with a lot of people," Harry said, waving a hand dismissively. "Ed knows some folks in the Ministry, and he told me about what he'd heard."
He then squinted at Vik. "Why do you have a manager? Are you famous?"
"A little," the tall student chuckled. Sensing Vik didn't want to talk about it, Harry just shrugged and changed the topic once more.
"Are you hungry? Ed should be making lunch, soon," the Boy Who Lived offered. "Want to join us?"
"Why not?" Vik agreed. "I have some time before I must speak with my… traveling companions before the match."
"Come on, then," Harry said, and led the way back to his campsite.
They took a bit longer to get there as both of them kept stopping to look at interesting things that caught their attention, but eventually they made it, and just in time, too, as Harry could smell the hotdogs roasting over an open fire.
"Hey there, Harry!" Ed called out, spotting him – or rather, Hedwig – as they emerged from the woods and rows of tents. "Do you want ketchup or BBQ sauce? And what about your friend?"
"Harry?" Vik asked, looking down at the Boy Who Lived in confusion.
"Ah, yeah," Harry said awkwardly. "Knew I was forgetting something…"
He cleared his throat and took his hat off, brushing his hair aside. "So, my real name is Harry. Sorry, forgot to tell you."
Vik stared, before snorting in amusement. "To think I was friends with a celebrity!" he teased. "Though I understand why you would want to keep that on the downlow, as you English say."
He took off his own sunhat. "Viktor Krum, at your service."
To Harry's embarrassment, it took him a whole minute before he remembered that that was the name of the youngest professional Seeker in history, and the star of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team who'd be playing later that day!
"Now I get it," he sighed, and Viktor laughed at Harry's expression before slapping him on the back.
"It's alright! Now, I hear a hotdog call my name, yes?" he smirked.
Before Harry could answer, a missile of pale-blond hair rushed over and tackled him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist and giving him a crushing hug.
"'Arry!" a girl's voice with a thick French accent exclaimed happily.
"G-Gabi?" Harry choked out, looking down at the petite French girl who'd glomped him.
"Oui!" she said, nodding happily.
"This must be your other pen pal," Viktor said, smirking at Harry.
"Y-yes," he confirmed, before patting the younger girl awkwardly on the back.
"Hello, Gabi, nice to see you, too."
"Harry?"
Harry froze, terror surging down his spine, before he turned his head slowly to the side. There was Susan, staring at him with an expression that made him shiver while Hannah and her parents looked on with expressions that were a mix between amused and pitying.
"Who is this?" Susan asked in a sickly-sweet tone that had Harry very worried for his safety.
Viktor, the traitor, wisely got out of dodge and went to introduce himself to Ed and get a free hotdog, leaving his pen pal to face the wrath of his girlfriend alone.
'And isn't that a strange thing to have?' Harry thought to himself as he scrambled to find his tongue again.
After saving everyone from the Dementors last Christmas, Harry and Susan had gotten closer. Finally, during Valentine's, they both had awkwardly tried to ask each other out. Both had spoken in circles until Hannah, fed up with their antics, and shoved the two into a broom closet and locked the door, refusing to let them out until they agreed to go on a date with each other.
Of course, Harry and Susan both knew the Alohomora spell, so they weren't locked up for long, but after punishing her best friend Susan had agreed to Harry's stammered request to go to Hogsmeade together on the Valentine's weekend.
Ron had laughed and said it was about time when he heard the story, as even he'd noticed, and Hermione had shoved a five-foot-long list of dating activities he could take Susan on. Neville had just asked Harry if he could borrow the list for his date with Hannah.
Only now, Harry had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to have a girlfriend anymore if he didn't come up with a satisfying answer soon!
"Um, Susan, this is Gabi – I mean Gabrielle, my, uh, other pen pal," Harry said slowly. "You know? We met in France after our first year at Hogwarts? I think I told you about her?"
Susan's expression simply continued to darken as she folded her arms and began to tap her foot impatiently, and Harry couldn't help but swallow nervously at the sight of those two gestures.
'Listen close, Harry, because I am going to tell you a couple secrets about relationships and women,' Ed's voice said as a memory resurfaced in the back of Harry's mind. 'When a woman wants to express her anger towards you, there are two big signs to look out for: folded arms, and tapping her foot. A single one on their own means you've really stepped in it and need to find a way to make it up to her ASAP! If she combines both? You better start groveling.'
Before he could say something – anything! – to salvage this situation, another blonde missile streaked towards him.
"HARRY!"
"Oof!" he uttered as Astoria Greengrass bulldozed into him from behind.
"Who are you?!" Gabi exclaimed, scandalized as someone else began to hug Harry closely, completely ignoring the fact that she'd done the same thing a minute ago.
"I'm Astoria! Hi!" the youngest Greengrass said.
"ASTORIA!" an irate Daphne called out to her sister, the older Slytherin rushing after her, stumbling to a halt when she saw the position she was in.
"Hi, Daph!" Astoria said, waving cheekily at her sister even though she was still wrapped around Harry's waist like a limpet.
"Get off of him!" she exclaimed.
"There's room for one or two more, you know~!" Astoria teased, and Daphne's face turned crimson while Susan's expression darkened further.
"Yay! Group hug!"
"Luna?!" Harry exclaimed when a third blonde ballistic glomped him from the side.
"What? Everyone else was doing it," the pale-haired, dreamy-eyed Ravenclaw said, tilting her head innocently as if she didn't have a clue what she was doing.
Laughter rang out from several sources, and Harry realized with a sinking heart that he was currently the center of attention for the entire group, and several others were snickering, giggling and openly commenting on his 'misfortune.'
"Seems like you have a type, pup," Sirius said with a wide grin, walking over with a hotdog. "Blondes, huh? James was more into redheads, but to each his own. He'd be proud of you all the same for catching the fancy from so many ladies!"
He then took a bite out of the dog. "Mm. Lily would be proud, too, though she'd pull your ear something fierce afterwards and warn you about breaking their hearts."
"Da," Victor agreed, wandering over with his own hotdog. "It is interesting to see it from the other side. I now get why my team laughs at me when it happens to myself."
"Don't worry, I already told him about the birds and bees. Or, uh, Unicorns and Mooncalves, as it were," Ed, the traitor, spoke up, causing Harry to blush even redder.
After finding him and Susan on the couch together, his big brother had decided it was time to educate him on puberty and all that it entailed, and Harry could still feel the embarrassment from seeing all the graphs, charts, and pictures.
"Okay, okay!" Remus called out, deciding to help Harry out. "I think we've teased the poor lad enough."
His words caused the parents and siblings of the girls currently clinging to him to finally approach and pry their relatives off of him.
"Honestly! You should know better!" Fleur scolded Gabi as she dragged her sister away.
"Don't do that again!" Daphne hissed at Astoria, who just shrugged.
"Did you have fun?" Mrs. Lovegood asked her daughter, who bobbed her head happily.
"Thank you!" Harry breathed out in relief.
"No problem," Remus said, patting him on the shoulder. "Now, better take care of that."
He gestured towards Susan, who was glowering most fiercely, and Harry nodded weakly. Why was this scarier than facing down the Dementors?!
Chapter 94: Chapter 94: Quidditch World Cup (Part 2)
Chapter Text
Chapter 94: Quidditch World Cup (Part 2)
"Ah, cheer up, pup!" Sirius said, trying to get Harry out of the dumps. "It'll be fine!"
"She's not talking to me," Harry said despondently as they walked into the stadium.
"It's one fight, your relationship isn't over," I reassured him. "Trust me, I know. Delilah and I fight, and it's not the end of the world for us."
"You do?" Harry asked, looking up at me in disbelief. "I've never seen you two argue!"
"We argue plenty. Like, Ed insists on wearing the same thing every time we go out to dinner at my parents! He has other things, he just refuses to switch it up a little!" Delilah huffed at my side.
"And Delly doesn't like it when I call her 'Delly,'" I added, causing her to pout and poke my sides.
I chucked, then continued. "We just don't fight around other people. And we make up afterwards."
"Yeah, we do," she said with a saucy grin, and I chuckled while Harry turned red as a beet.
"Sometimes, though, a bit of space is necessary before you start trying to apologize and make it up to someone," I cautioned. "Give her a day or two to cool down. She didn't immediately breakup with you, so there's still a chance."
"Okay," Harry said, still somewhat down, but no longer moping around completely.
Seeing his spirits get lifted, I passed him a pair of Omnioculars. "Go and have fun with your friends," I urged. "And don't forget to cheer for your pen pal."
Harry nodded at that and scurried off to find Ron, Neville, and Hermione.
"Here," I said, passing out a couple more Omnioculars to the others around me.
I'd cleared out the entire supply of Omnioculars at three different stalls, netting me nearly one thousand copies of the incredible things! I of course gave some to the families who came with us, and to anyone else in the group who needed one, but that still left me with hundreds to tinker and experiment with, as well as outfit my security forces with a couple.
The Omnioculars were quite fascinating standardized enchanted items. It was an interesting thing to see, as you rarely saw magical objects made in a uniform way. Outside of brooms, self-stirring cauldrons, and magical paintings, most enchanted artifacts were bespoke and custom crafted.
How these 'mass produced' items worked was the instructions for making them were given to apprentice enchanters to replicate, who'd then make them and sell them. As for the person who owned the original patent for making them? They received a portion of the profits made from their sale, and could also sell access to the patent for a fee.
It was sort of like how the Potters received royalties from potioneers who used the Fleamont Potter-brand Sleekeazy hair potion recipe. Harry didn't need to make the potions himself, people paid him for the privilege.
'Considering how many I've bought, I've probably paid for quite a few retirements and holidays,' I thought to myself with a tiny, amused smile.
I then began to help the Muggleborn and their families find their seats, and swapped mundane money for wizarding cash so they could buy snacks and stuff.
The sun had set and the stars were out, but magical lights made it so the whole arena and the expanded space it rested inside were fully illuminated with dozens of orbs of starlight and floating lamps.
'I wonder how the game will turn out this time?' I wondered to myself as I wandered the stands a bit, ensuring everyone was where they should be.
The odds of the Quidditch match ending the same way, with Krum catching the Snitch but Ireland still winning overall, were quite low, thanks to my meddling with history.
The last time I bet on a sporting event, things changed slightly. How? I wasn't sure, as I certainly never met the players before, but regardless, tiny butterflies had flapped their wings and altered events enough that Denmark did not win the Football World Cup uncontested with a 2-0 score.
It had been a warning, and one I understood well. Events would not follow the same path I knew, especially not with me having destroyed the Horcruxes early and Harry's fate being broken in his Second Year.
And then I spotted the Weasley Twins speaking with Ludo Bagman, and frowned. I hastily made my way there before they could get scammed. As I got closer, I was able to hear the tail end of their conversation.
"…and it will be over before they can react!" Fred said proudly.
"Ah, so eager, so enthusiastic!" Bagman chortled. "Well, if that's the bet you want to make…"
"Hold on, boys," I said, stepping in between Fred and George before they could give their money to the debt riddled Ministry official.
"EH? Ed?!" George gasped when he saw who I was. "Wh-what are you doing here?"
"Making sure Mrs. Weasley doesn't tan your hides when she finds out you're gambling," I said, before flashing Bagman an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sir, but these boys' mother wanted me to make sure they wouldn't get into trouble, and I fear underaged betting would be one such thing she'd have my head for if it happened."
"A-ah, yes, of course," Bagman said, coughing nervously. "W-wouldn't want that!"
He then quickly left, causing the twins to glare at me.
"Oi, what was-"
"-That for, Ed?" the twins demanded in tandem.
"Ludo Bagman is a debt riddled fool on the run from goblin moneylenders," I said in a low voice, leading them away by the shoulders. "If you gave him any cash you'd never seen your winnings."
They looked shocked at that, before gaining angry and frustrated looks.
"But then how are we supposed to-"
"-Get money for our…" they began, but I held up my hands.
"Your prank items are amazing, you two, and your dream is just as ambitious, but trying to use unofficial betting rings is asking for trouble," I warned them.
"But we're underaged," Fred complained.
"None of the legal ones will accept us," George added.
I sighed, then looked around to make sure nobody we knew was nearby. "Fine. Come with me."
I led them to the bookie stalls, where some last-minute bets were still being made.
"I'll put money down on your behalf," I told the duo. "Give me your coins and I do it for you."
They blinked at me, surprised, and I smirked. "Just because I'm an adult now doesn't mean I have to stop having fun. But there will be conditions for me doing this."
"What are they?" George inquired cautiously while Fred looked eager to agree right away.
"First off, never tell your parents – or Percy – that it was me," I urged them, and they nodded solemnly. "Second, try to spend a bit of your winnings on some nice things for your brothers and sister, okay? And third, if you ever do plan on starting your own business, come to me or Sirius. We'll help you with the contracts and legalese."
The duo shared a look then agreed to my words with a "Deal!" and shook on it before handing over their coin purses.
"So, what bet do you want me to make?" I inquired as I jingled the hefty pouches.
"Based on the data-"
"-and the evidence-"
"and our own gut feelings, it will be a draw," the twins explained in low voices. "Right before Ireland gets a hundred and sixty points, Krum will catch the Snitch."
"Interesting. What makes you say that?" I wondered.
"Bulgaria's team sucks," the twins said in unison.
"Only reason they got this far was thanks to Krum," George claimed. "Their Keeper can barely stop a Quaffle, and their Beaters are strong but too inaccurate to aim the Bludgers properly. The Chasers are decent, but only due to their speedy brooms. Krum may have joined them last year at the age of sixteen, but he's shown to be a natural Seeker, with a lot of skill and talent."
"In contrast, Ireland has the best team it has had in decades," Fred continued. "The Keeper used to be a Beater and can punch Quaffles if he has to, while the Beaters are lovers and know how to coordinate properly. As for the Chasers, they are insanely talented. They are triplets, and share the unique bond we do, letting them coordinate in ways nobody can compete with. Ireland's only weak point is their own Seeker, whose eyesight is beginning to dull. He'll need corrective lens or surgery soon, but is too proud to admit it."
"Thus, if Krum manages to shake Ireland's Seeker off and see the Snitch first, then it will be a draw," they concluded.
I nodded slowly. I wasn't as up-to-date with Quidditch as the twins seemed to be, so I only had their word to go off of, but it seemed logical, and they had correctly predicted how the game would go in the original timeline.
Deciding to trust them, I made my way to the bookies. There were several of them, all officially licensed to do business. One was with the Quidditch World League, and some were run by the various magical governments and their sports departments. Lastly, there were the private yet legal gambling rings, such as the Las Vegas stall all the way from the United States.
Checking the numbers, I put the boy's money down at two of them: the QWL's bookie stand, and the Las Vegas one. The former had ironclad, magically enforced contracts to pay out, and the Las Vegas bookies had better odds.
Lastly, I slapped a couple bets of my own down with different bookies, before taking the receipt stubs with me.
"I'll hold onto these, and pay you after the Cup so your parents don't wonder why you are walking around with fists full of galleons," I told them as I carefully tucked the slips of parchment into pockets. "But if you win, remember to uphold your side of the bargain!"
"Roger!" the twins saluted, and we hurried back to the seats before anybody missed us.
We returned just in time, too, as the advertisements were wrapping up and the mascots were about to come out to play. Everyone was impressed by the Leprechauns and the gold coin shower, though I – and a couple others, mostly women – had to snap our fingers loudly to get the menfolk out of the Allure-induced daze when the Bulgarian cheerleaders came out.
"What was that?" Mr. Creevy asked, cheeks red as his wife pinched them.
"Those are Veela, and that was their Allure," I explained. "Veela are a race of magical people, similar to goblins and centaurs and giants. They can, among other things, create an aura that makes people attracted to them."
"Really?" Mr. Finch-Fletchley asked. "That seems a bit… dangerous."
"Eh, it's not that bad, so long as you have a decently strong mind. The Allure is simply an inherited ability, like Parseltongue or Metamorphmagi. It doesn't make them any different from normal people." Seeing the skeptical looks, I added, "You met the Delacours, right? The ladies were Veela, but they could suppress this ability. All Veela can, with training. Completely like you or me, they just have some extra bits."
Hearing that the lovely French housewife and her children had been magical people capable of this 'Allure' was a surprise, but the Delacours had been perfectly nice, and aside from being a bit more beautiful than normal, there hadn't been anything wrong with them.
"Though I always wondered why Bulgaria's team had Veela mascots when they lie in the domain of the Nordic League," I mused, mostly to myself as the game began.
"What do you mean?" Mrs. Thomas asked, and several other parents leaned in curiously.
"The Nordic League consists of many Germanic and Slavic countries," I explained. "And they are quite racist and speciesist. That means they dislike Muggles and Muggleborn, and all non-humans, no matter how intelligent they may be. Seeing Veela like this… it's like seeing the Nazis have Jewish cheerleaders."
That comparison had the Muggleborn families all wince, and give the scene below another look in a different lens.
"That would be because Bulgaria is currently experiencing a bit of a political and cultural shift, young man," somebody commented, and I looked over at the speaker a couple seats over.
It was an older woman, greying hair and wrinkles, and with hard eyes who had seen dark times. A handknitted shawl was draped around her shoulders, and she had cane in her hands that likely doubled as a staff or wand. She also had a strong Eastern European accent, which told me about where she came from.
"I did not know that, ma'am," I said politely. No reason to be rude. "Could you explain what you mean?"
"The current Bulgarian political landscape is changing, in parts thanks to the fall of that Wall of Berlin," the grandmother explained, her thick accent slurring some of her English. "Many youths grew up in country while Soviets ran thing, having to hide from red sickle bastards, remember the fear of not knowing if we could trust the Muggleborn, but also experienced what freedom is like when that Wall fell."
She spat at the mention of the Communists before continuing. "Is true, we see cruelty of Muggles, but also see what else can be done with open policy. We survive, we see what things are like with evil, and what they are like without evil. Many older people remember Grindelwald, too. See how there no difference between evil men. No need magic or wands to do bad things. Just a bad heart."
The grandmother spat again as she spoke Grindelwald's name. "Youth want change. Is their nature. And some politicians see that old ways kill. Less magical children born every year. Have to accept Muggleborn and their ways, or we sink underneath tides of future."
I nodded slowly, intrigued to hear firsthand what it was like in another magical community right now. I knew that the magical community in Russia had been gutted thanks to the Red Revolution, just like the Chinese mages, but what about the other people, the ones who lived in the Soviet Union's satellite states?
'Seems like the Cold War affected things more than I expected,' I thought.
I could only imagine how much more secretive and fearful the Eastern European mages would have had to be in order to survive the USSR death squads and secret police. It sadly made sense how this fear could turn to hate for the Muggles.
"And the Veela cheerleaders are an attempt to change things? To showcase that Bulgaria is willing to leave their Nordic sensibilities behind?" Delilah inquired curiously.
"What better way than show we willing to leave past behind than by letting people we used to shun stand with us?" the grandma asked rhetorically. "Is not the best way, but better than nothing, eh?"
"That makes sense," I murmured. Gotta start somewhere, right?
"Edward Rose," I said, offering her my hand to shake. "Pleasure to meet you. And thank you for the explanation. It was enlightening."
"Polite young man," she chuckled, taking my hand with her own. "Maria Khavan."
We exchanged a few more pleasantries, but soon had our attention taken by the whistle that announced the start of the game.
I was not exactly the most knowledgeable about Quidditch, nor did I really like the sport, but after hearing from the twins about their analysis of the two teams, I had to agree that they knew what they were talking about.
Bulgaria… Bulgaria kinda sucked. Their teamwork was awful, Krum nearly getting hit by his own Beaters, and more than once a Chaser got in the Keeper's way, resulting in the Quaffle going in and Ireland scoring a point.
'Is their lack of skills a result of the heavy restrictions they've been under in order to avoid being spotted by the Communists?' I wondered. I couldn't get the words of the old lady out of my head. Perhaps the Cold War had done a lot more damage to the magical communities than I was aware of.
The game continued, and slowly but surely the Irish team scored goal after goal. By the time they hit a hundred points, it was clear the Bulgarians were panicking.
When the Irish Chasers managed to land their fifteenth goal in a row and hit a hundred and fifty points, I sat up straighter in my seat. Now was the moment of truth. Would the twins' predication come true? Would something else happen?
Krum was zipping around, leading the Irish Seeker on a wild goose chase. It was interesting to watch the crowd go wild as the two men weaved through the air, chasing the faintest glimmer of the Snitch.
Then, just when the Irish Chasers got ahold of the Quaffle once more, Krum suddenly began to dive down, aiming at a flicker of gold dancing around the base of the Bulgarian hoops.
"There he goes," I murmured. Would he snag the Snitch before the Irish scored? Or would the Bulgarian Keeper fail to stop his sixteenth goal in row?
Seeing Krum zooming full tilt, the Irish Seeker took after him, trying to rush in and snatch the golden orb, but Krum did some sort of corkscrew spin that had him speed up somehow. Nearby, I heard Harry say something about Krum using his trick, but I was too busy watching what was about to happen.
I saw the lumpy red ball soar through the air, and the Bulgarian Keeper screw up his positioning, meaning the Quaffle would soar past him and through a hoop. I also saw Krum's finger close around a golden orb with wings.
Referee whistles ring out through the stadium, shrill and loud, and a tremendous roar goes up from the audience as the World Cup match ends in a draw.
"Wow," I muttered, leaning back in my seat. I felt the adrenaline leave me. "The twins are rich, now."
The odds for a draw had been ridiculously low, thus the payout for such a thing was absurd. Draws were extremely rare in this sport for a couple reasons, mainly due to how the Snitch gave so many points and ended the game outright. In fact, I don't think there were protocols for what happens in the event there's a draw in an official match. Did they have a sudden death match or would they just split the trophy?
'Has a World Cup ever ended with a draw?' I wondered to myself. Surely it had to have done so at one point?
Either way, Fred and George had just won several tens of thousands of galleons, each.
We watched the awards ceremony where both teams were given a golden trophy (apparently they just considered both teams winners in the event of a draw) and the crowd just keep cheering and going crazy. I heard comments that this would go down in history, and I was glad I'd recorded it with a pair of Omnioculars. I bet I could sell the memories, too.
Once that was all done, we headed back to the campsite. We'd eaten dinner before heading to the stadium, but watching the game had worked up an appetite, so I got out ingredients for smores and passed them around.
The campfire quickly got crowded with kids wanting their turn, and I laughed as I watched a couple run around in a panic as they set their marshmallows on fire.
"That was fun," I said to Delilah, putting an arm around her, and she nodded.
"Very exciting," she agreed. "And a great way to introduce people to the magical side of things."
Delilah then blinked and spotted somebody nearby. "Hey, is that the old lady you were talking to earlier?"
I looked towards where she was pointing, and indeed, the nice old Eastern European granny was sitting in front of a tiny little cooking fire, a cauldron of stew bubbling away.
"I didn't know she was in our section," I hummed. I didn't see a tent, but maybe she was going to set up later? Or go home soon now that it was over.
Deciding to be neighborly, I walked over to her spot and greeted her. "Evening, ma'am."
"Ah, hello, hello," Maria Khavan replied, looking up with a smile. "You're the young fellow from the match, yes?"
"I am. My group is over there, and I was wondering if you'd care to join us," I offered.
She tilted her head and then nodded, waving her cane. The pot of stew she was cooking floated up and followed us as we returned.
When we arrived, some other familiar faces showed up. The Weasleys had somehow found us, perhaps led there by the Lovegoods, and the Delacours were there as well. I also spotted Neville and his grandmother.
"My, how lively," Maria said with a fond smile.
"Not one for big crowds, but sometimes it's nice. From time to time. On rare occasions," I said, and she cackled a little.
"Indeed!" she chortled. "Now, who wants stew? It's a family recipe!"
She proceeded to pass out free stew to everyone who wanted any, and I had to say, it was very good. The beef was tender, the stew itself was rich and creamy, and somehow the potatoes and carrots were just the right amount of soggy yet crispy at the same time.
"Did you put an expanded space charm on the cauldron?" I asked her. It hadn't depleted at all, even after feeding several dozen people.
"Why yes, I did," Maria confirmed.
"I wasn't aware you could put them on things that are always open to the elements," I admitted. "I've only seen Expansion charms used on things that can be closed, like rooms, bags, and trunks."
"There's a trick to it," she revealed. "Not only expanding, space can be folded. So, what you do is create an expanded space, then fold it. After that, you anchor the folded space inside an object."
"Oh! Because the space is folded, it's a self-contained pocket dimension, and thus not at risk of unraveling or having everything inside spill out, but it still works like an expanded space!" I realized, seeing how it worked. "It would make the whole thing far more stable, too!"
"You're a clever young man, aren't you?" Maria said, reaching up and pinching my cheek fondly.
I chuckled a little at that, pleased but also somewhat embarrassed by the praise. The old lady smirked, and then wandered off to chat with Madam Longbottom. Grannies chatting with each other won't lead to anything terrible, right? How much trouble could the two of them get up to?
'And speaking of trouble,' I mused, glancing at Harry and his friends.
Hermione was, with far too much Schadenfreude, retelling the events between Harry, Gabi, Astoria, and Luna to an amused Ron and Neville.
Harry just looked absolutely done with everything, his expression dead and full of despair. Even as Gabi and Luna both hung off of both of his arms.
'Poor boy,' I thought sarcastically. 'Well, at least this will help train Harry to get used to woman cozying up to him.'
He was going to have to deal with wily women who only wanted him for his fame, money, and status as a noble far too soon. Knowing how to identify it, and get used to women throwing themselves at him in various ways, would only help in the long run.
"Sooo!" Fred said, sidling up to my side.
"What did we win?" George asked, arriving at my other side.
"You two are rich. Congrats," I drawled. "Come on, let's go get your money before you burst at the seams."
The two nodded excitedly, and while Molly and Arthur were distracted by the mundane adults, we snuck off to the betting tents.
Quite a few people were crowding around them, some angry at their loses, other bubbling with excitement as they cashed in their receipts.
I managed to push my way to the front and slapped the parchment slips down at the League booth. Then, once they gave me the winnings in discreet mokeskin pouches to hide how much they were actually giving away, I repeated this at the Las Vegas booth.
That done, I took the twins away from the rowdy groups and made our way to a spot that was mostly empty.
"Here you boys go," I said, handing over their winnings. "Keep the receipts, just to make sure they didn't stiff ya. Shouldn't have, but you never know."
The twins eagerly opened up their bags, eyes wide as they took in the glimmer of gold coins. Thanks to their bet of a draw, the red-headed duo were now the proud owners of thirty-one and a half thousand galleons. Each.
I may have added some money of my own to the Weasley twins' as a sort of late Birthday gift, but honestly, the odds for a draw had been huge. A thousand to one, at the Las Vegas booth.
Chuckling at the way the two of them were staring with dropped jaws at the money that would be able to bring their dreams of a store to life, I checked my own winnings. Going off of the twins' advice, I decided to drop a substantial bet. And now, I had a little over half a million galleons thanks to putting down money at a bunch of different bookies! Not in cash, of course. That much money would be hard to handle. Instead, it'd be sent to my account in Gringotts directly.
'Let me think… I should invest this money into my alchemical studies,' I thought to myself.
I was currently researching a way to create an alchemical ritual that combined the Philosopher's Stone ritual and the energy transmutation ritual. This way, I could create magical batteries for charging and powering wards, runes, and other rituals. Once this happened, I wouldn't need to use Leylines for all of my different magical properties and projects.
Putting the receipts away, I glanced at the twins. "Pleased with the outcome?"
"Yes," George said, still somewhat dumbfounded. Fred remained speechless.
"Remember what I said. If you're really determined to turn your joke items into a business, Sirius and I will be happy to help," I told the two of them. "Now pick your jaws off the ground and hide those purses. Don't want your parents finding out you were gambling."
"You were gambling. We were just impressionable youths swayed by your criminal wiles," Fred said, snapping back to normal at the mention of Molly Weasley.
"Cute," I drawled. "But that won't work on me."
The twins shrugged, but wisely followed my instructions and put their winnings away out of sight.
Satisfied by that, we started to head back, when all of a sudden there was a loud scream that ripped through the air, followed by lots of shouting.
A green blast of light shot upwards from somewhere off in the distance, and at first I thought it was a firework, but the sinister green energy exploded into the symbol of a skull with a serpent emerging from it.
"The Dark Mark! Death Eaters!" I hissed, recognizing the emblem of Voldemort's minions.
What was happening?! This was happening earlier than in canon, and the Death Eaters hadn't thrown up the Dark Mark. That had been Crouch Junior's thing when he stole Ron's wand!
Where the spell had come from, I could see a commotion happening, with pointed black hoods just barely visible over the heads of the crowd.
I grabbed the twins by the arms and began dragging them back to the campsite, not wanting to get caught up in whatever was about to happen.
Thankfully, several more spells were shooting into the sky. Flares, and what appeared to be a heavy-duty Finite that was erasing the Dark Mark from the sky.
The chaos was getting worse, though, spreading in ripples out from the center of the action, and more and more people were panicking and throwing themselves as far away from the incident as possible. This, unfortunately, only resulted in more chaos as the people who didn't know what was happening just followed the herd and panicked because others were doing the same.
Not daring to stop, I kept pulling the boys along until we reached the campsite again. Sirius, Remus, Molly, and Arthur had reacted by drawing their wands, their memories of fighting in the war against Voldemort reminding them what to do whenever the Dark Mark appeared.
They were ushering the rest of the group back to the tents, where it would be somewhat safer to be if a firefight broke out.
"Where's Maria?" I asked, looking around in concern as I delivered the twins to their worried mother.
"She left a few minutes ago, said she was going to visit a friend," Remus said, eyes darting around. "Ed, what happened?"
"Death Eaters – or people dressed as them – sent up the Dark Mark near the stadium," I told him. "Before that, though, I think they did something else, because there was a lot of screaming. I wasn't close enough to see what happened, though."
"Well, somebody is already taking the ugly thing down," Sirius grunted, glancing up at the ugly green mark that was already fading away.
"Amelia set up a bunch of Aurors before the match. I believe she is taking control of the situation right now," Remus said, pride but also a hint of worry in his voice for his lover.
"For now, all we can do is wait," Arthur claimed, joining the conversation. "We should stay here and prepare."
"Yeah. Some barriers, maybe a quick ward or two," Sirius agreed.
Nodding at each other, the men began to throw up a few enchantments that would keep people away from the campsite. It was more of a crowd control thing, designed to push somebody back if they got too close, or urge them to run around instead of straight through.
Watching them work was inspiring, and after a bit they finished, minor protective charms all in place, alongside a couple alarms that would warn us if something broke the other wards.
"Won't keep anybody out who is determined enough, but it will give us a heads up," Arthur said with a satisfied nod.
"Then we better keep watch," I said, earning a nod.
For several minutes we waited nervously for something to happen. I half expected some Death Eaters to try and rush us in an attempt to attack the Boy Who Lived, but to my relief, nothing like that happened.
Half an hour later, we were starting to relax when a broom flew overhead, a witch riding on it.
"ATTENTION! ATTENTION! THE DISRUPTION HAS BEEN TAKEN CARE OF! I REPEAT, IT IS ALL SAFE, NOW!"
She continued to shout this, informing everyone that the problem was over, but noticeably not saying anything else.
"No mention of it being Death Eaters who caused the chaos," I noted.
"Ministry probably wants to keep it quiet," Arthur said.
"Can they?" Sirius wondered. "This is an international incident!"
"Well, they'll probably be able to keep it quiet here," Arthur replied. "Might lean on some people to keep it out of the papers, or downplay it."
"We'll see about that," I muttered, sharing a look with Sirius.
Between us, we controlled many shares of various magical magazines and publishing companies, to say nothing of the Daily Prophet. The Ministry wouldn't be able – or allowed – to cover this up. Not on our watch!
Now that the chaos was dying down, we let the rest of our group out of the tents, reassuring them that it was just a bit of drunken post-game shenanigans gone wrong. Consider we were all British, we were all used to our fair share of football hooligans kicking off riots in the wake of a game.
I decided to keep an ear to the ground, though. I wanted to know what exactly had changed this time around thanks to my help in throwing canon off the rails. I needed to be prepared for anything!
Chapter 95: Chapter 95: Not all Fun and Games
Chapter Text
Chapter 95: Not all Fun and Games
Amelia Bones POV
"Is that the last of them?" she demanded, glaring at the dozen or so men in black robes with pointed hoods that lay gagged and bound in the dirt, their silver skull masks put in a neat pile along with their wands.
All of it was evidence, alongside the marks on their arms, and she was going to make damn sure they all ended up in a nice, chilly cell within Azkaban.
"We gave chase to the ones who fled, but we likely won't be able to get them. They scattered too quickly," Rufus Scrimgeour said.
Amelia grunted in disappointment, but wouldn't blame him. The Death Eaters had been grouped together in small teams spread out through the camping grounds, not in one singular large and disorganized mass. It meant that trying to catch them all in one fell swoop hadn't worked.
As soon as the Aurors had appeared and the Anti-Portkey and Apparition wards went up, the cowardly (or perhaps smart) Death Eaters had scattered, shedding their garb and dispersing into the rest of the panicked civilians, hiding in plain sight.
The dozen or so the Aurors had caught had been the idiots too drunk on their own superiority and cheap fire whiskey to realize they were doomed. Some had fought back with lethal spells, or tried to go after civilians who turned out to have no qualms about fighting back. Most of those masked wizards were now dead because of it.
'I won't weep over them, but it is going to cause a big problem in the Ministry when their names are revealed,' Amelia thought bitterly.
There were a few high-profile names among the deceased. Both Carrow twins, a Rosier, and none other than Walden MacNair were now corpses, the latter two little more than charred flesh because they'd tried to go after the Veela cheerleaders.
Thinking about the now ex-executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, Amelia knew she was going to have a fight on her hands with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and the rest of the Ministry. How many more of them were compromised? She knew the various Department heads would demand to be allowed to handle their own internal matters, but Amelia wasn't going to let that fly.
This was not a mere matter of office politics, this was an act of domestic terrorism that had been perpetrated on British soil by British citizens against foreign nationals during the biggest international event of the year!
If they failed to do their job and sentence as many of the bastards as possible, then Magical Britain would be the laughing stock of the international community. Only the lack of death or injury among the foreign guests would keep the other Ministries from leveling sanctions onto her own administration for this cockup.
'Damn it all… Another thing Ed was right about,' Amelia thought to herself, her scowl now due to thinking about the annoying Seer who'd dropped this latest load of work into her lap.
He'd given her a list of names of people who were definitely Death Eaters and definitely branded, alongside a warning that the Quidditch World Cup had a very strong chance of being attacked by the masked bastards.
She hadn't wanted to believe him, but Edward Rose had proven to be disturbingly accurate with his predictions, far more so than any other Seer she'd ever met. And the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement knew a few, as most of the ones in Magical Britain were employed by the Aurors to help solve crimes with their Divination skills.
Such people were rarely accurate, though. Like Veritiserum, Divination wasn't perfect or accepted as the sole evidence for a trial, and the Seers were generally only used to help locate, corroborate, and confirm actual evidence or assist in connecting the dots, rather than being used to outright solve cases.
'So how is Edward so damn good at what he does?' Amelia couldn't help but wonder. 'How does he know so much and put every other Seer and Divination expert I employ to shame?'
He'd likely never tell. It frustrated her. The boy was keeping secrets. Big ones, and not just ones related to You-Know-Who. She had strong suspicions about his 'job,' too.
Officially, Edward Rose was working under Cyrus Greengrass to produce potions, but there should have been some sign of more potions entering the market than there currently were. Not to mention the times she'd met them both, the former Squib acted like an equal with the head of the Greengrass family.
And that was another thing! He was supposed to be a Squib! Yet now he was an actual Seer so powerful it had suppressed his magical abilities for years and even Hogwarts' famous Book of Students had failed to detect this and made the appropriate adjustments in order to send the acceptance letter?
Something wasn't adding up.
'For now, though, he's a useful person to keep around,' Amelia thought bitterly.
Edward Rose was powerful asset, and while she was loathe to let a potential criminal run around freely, she had nothing besides her gut feeling to work off of. So, she would let him be. For now.
'Besides, arresting him would make Remus upset,' a traitorous part of her mind whispered, which had her flush a bit and stamp the thought down into the recesses of her mind with Occlumency.
Now was not the time to think about what her – admittedly rugged and charming boyfriend – thought about one of his acquaintances being arrested!
"Madam Bones?" Rufus inquired.
"Round them up, stun 'em, gather the evidence, and double check their bindings, then send them to the holding cells," Amelia ordered Scrimgeour, snapping back to the present. "Ensure that they are put into individual solitary cells, I don't want them trying to talk to each other. And make sure only people who are given a minimum of Merlin-2 clearance can be allowed access to them."
"Merlin-2?" Scrimgeour asked, confused. "That's quite high…"
"Of course it is," Amelia shot back. "These men are stuffing Fudge's pockets, or have relatives who do so. I refuse to let them escape justice just because of who they know… or who they've bribed."
"Some won't like it," he warned, and she snorted.
"I don't care. Merlin-2 or higher. And make sure everyone passes through a Thief's Downfall before entering the cells. No disguises!"
"Understood," Rufus nodded, and he began to bark orders at the nearby Aurors who started to cart off the unmasked Death Eaters with the pops of Portkeys.
"Somebody needs to go and sound the all-clear," she said a moment later, looking around at the different Aurors standing around. "Partridge, Schooner, Woolcoat, get on some brooms and tell everyone that the danger has passed."
"Yes, Madam Bones!" the three Aurors she'd called out replied, saluting before running off to reassure the people everything was under control.
'And now that that's done, I have to discuss these matters with Fudge,' Amelia thought, holding back a sigh.
She was going to have to make sure he didn't do anything stupid again, like the time he allowed the Dementors to leave Azkaban.
'I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, am I?' she thought bitterly. And she'd promised Susan she'd spend breakfast with her. Another broken promise. Amelia hoped her niece would understand.
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Unknown POV
"Shit… shit! Why in Merlin's hairy sack were the Aurors out in force tonight?!" the man in the black robe with a pointed hood demanded as he tore off his silver skull mask and threw it to the ground in frustration and fury. "Crouch said it was supposed to be easy!"
The entire plan had been to sow a bit of fear, show those Muggle-loving fools that the true inheritors of magic had never left, and to prove their loyalty to their lord, who'd escaped death's embrace to return to them and lead them to glory!
'And yet that Bones bitch had her Aurors all over the place, just waiting for an excuse to start knocking heads!' he thought furiously. 'How did she know?! A mole? A traitor? An idiot who let something slip?!'
Any of those options were possible, and he vowed to discover who had been responsible, and make them regret it!
A twig snapped nearby, and the Death Eater froze, going still as he waited for the source to reveal itself. The man sagged in relief when he saw it was just an elderly old woman with a cane wearing some sort of knitted shawl over her robes stepping out of the bushes.
His eye twitched when she glanced at him, scoffed, and then just kept walking, completely dismissing him. Such a disrespectful act from some foreign crone was not going to be tolerated, and he raised his wand with a twisted snarl, preparing to 'discipline' the old witch, when she stopped, turned her head, and raised an eyebrow at him.
The Death Eater froze once more, although this time it was because every cell had turned to ice, and every cavity and gap within his body had filled with frost and snow. He was dead before he hit the ground and shattered into a million pieces that melted away into nothingness.
The old witch didn't even care to glance at his remains, and simply continued on her way once she'd confirmed the last of corpse had melted.
"What an interesting young man," the woman who'd introduced herself as Maria Khavan mused to herself as she walked through the woods.
She was not talking about that poor excuse for a wizard who'd tried to hex her, no, but rather, the child whom she'd had a lovely chat with at the match, and had shown remarkable hospitality to many, not just herself. For one such as herself, where hospitality was still considered a sacred rite, it was a good mark on him.
Erroneous Hunch Junior. Or, as he preferred nowadays, Edward Rose. A Squib who'd managed to do the impossible and give himself magic! Oh, yes, she could tell! Her nose was never wrong!
The air began to grow colder around her as a cackle slipped out of her. Her back straightened, her hair turned white as snow and lengthened until it trailed in the dirt behind her. Her teeth sharpened and turned to iron while the cane she walked with became a giant pestle, and the hunched crone that had previously been walking along in the dead of night vanished, replaced by a fearsome old witch.
The mortals knew her as Baba Yaga, Eternal Witch of Winter. She couldn't remember the name she had been born with, and instead chose new ones every century or so to blend in. In fact, even most magicals had forgotten she was real these days!
Not that she minded. So many people had tried to bother her with this or that over the years, that being left alone was quite pleasant. And she'd never really been a 'people person' to begin with. Why else would she spread so many tales of terror and make sure her house could run away whenever she got noisy neighbors?
Right now, though, she was considering moving back into civilization, at least for a decade or two. The Witch of Winter wanted to see what would happen with the young man in the coming years, and being up close to the action was the best way to do it.
"He reeked of Death, so I know he met the Ferryman, yet I do not believe he has climbed to the same heights we have," Baba Yaga mused aloud to herself. "In that regard, he is much like the fate breaking boy at his side. Perhaps they have found one of the Deathly Hallows?"
When an immortal found a way to cheat Death, the ancient being always visited the rulebreaker, even if it should have been impossible due to the Liminal Boundary separating the truly mystical from the rest of the world. Not to claim their soul, no, but more as a way to greet them, judge them, and warn them.
Death did not care if somebody found a way to extend their life beyond what was natural. Nor did it ever come for them personally. After all, Death claimed all, eventually. It need only wait. Instead, Death simply greeted them like a parent would when they know a child has done wrong, and waits for them to confess their misdeeds.
Such an encounter left an indelible mark upon one's soul, that manifested as a stench only another immortal who'd experienced the same thing could detect. There were other ways to earn Death's scent, of course. The artifacts, the Hallows, could cause this to happen. And those who delved deep into the Darkest magicks could be stained by it as well. But generally, it was only the claiming of immortality that summoned Death and its odor.
Baba Yaga had seen much, and met many cheaters of Death. She was one of the oldest immortals alive. Only a handful, like the pitiful trophy in Constantinople and the wandering idiot-king of Uruk were older. She'd met several wielders of the Hallows, including the Perevals, and she had known the Flamels even before they found their own secret path to eternal life, so she knew the difference.
Thinking about the Flamels made her feel a bit melancholic. It was always a sad thing to know that another immortal had succumbed to the ennui of life. She had liked the couple. Perenelle's tea had been delightful, and Nicholas could talk with such enthusiasm about magic!
And earlier that night, Baba Yaga had seen that same joy for the mystical arts in the child they'd entrusted their secrets and legacy to.
"I begin to see what they saw in that Edward fellow. He is odd, and with a keen insight for magic," the iron-toothed witch announced to the world, uncaring of who might overhear her.
She wondered if he could possibly complete the Flamels' Magnum Opus. Their ultimate dream to cease the slow decline of magic.
"I'll be keeping an eye on you, boy," she decided, another cackle escaping her.
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Barty Crouch Jr. POV
'This was not part of the plan,' he thought bitterly. Barty had thought his scheme had been rather inspired, but it seemed he lacked his master's intellect, and had thus failed his mission.
Sneaking back into England had been quite easy. So many people coming to see the World Cup. So many ways to pretend to be somebody else. Even with his master in tow, Barty had found a path back home.
They could not return to London, though. Too many eyes. And the further they were from the site of the World Cup, the better. To that end, the Dark Lord commanded Barty to take them to a Muggle's manor, claiming it for themselves.
The old groundskeeper had been easy to eliminate, and Winky did a better job at cleaning up the mess than the Muggle ever could.
Though Barty hadn't understood why he'd been ordered to bring his master to some abandoned dwelling on the outskirts near the manor, nor why the sight of the charred and destroyed hovel had sent the Dark Lord into such a rage.
Barty had thought his master had been furious when he heard that some sort of book in Malfoy's possession had been destroyed and the Basilisk within Hogwarts slain, but seeing the remains of that shack had been so infuriating that the homunculus the Dark Lord had been possessing had exploded with Accidental Magic.
Being used as a host for the wraith afterwards had been… painful, but Barty was strong, faithful, and had endured long enough to build a completely new body for his master to inhabit after the anger had burnt the original vessel to ash.
Following that, Barty had taken the Dark Lord to another site, this one some hidden cave in some cliffs. Seeing a locket resting in a bowl filled with potions surrounded by an army of Inferi had calmed his master's agitation, though he'd been brooding recently.
'And now, the news of his minions failure to remind the world that he is far from gone has only further displeased him,' Barty thought with a grimace.
After returning to England, the last member of House Crouch had visited in secret the Death Eaters too cowardly to admit to their sins and who had bribed their way out of Azkaban. Barty had 'persuaded' them to reaffirm their loyalty to their master by sewing chaos at the World Cup.
The darkening of their marks had helped convince most, and others had needed to have a private meeting with the Dark Lord in person to get the remainders on their side, but it seemed that a decade of peace had weakened them, and the Aurors had caught onto their plans and halted the fun before it had time to properly spread.
Barty had been forced to escape without much to show for it, and now, he was back in the manor they'd appropriated, giving his report.
When he was done, Voldemort was silent, fuming in anger but thankfully not so much he might explode again. Nagini curled around him protectively, the massive serpent they'd picked up in Albania hissing at Barty for bringing such terrible news.
"What now, my master?" Barty asked tentatively, still kneeling before the homunculus containing his master's soul.
"We shall take the ingredients we need for the ritual, but we shall not do it here," Voldemort declared, his voice low and wheezing. "We'll return to Albania for now. And, we will be forced to abandon Potter. A substitute will be required."
"Master, we could still grab him!" Barty protested, but his lord sent Barty shocks of pain for his impertinence.
"No," Voldemort whispered once Barty was done screaming. "We will not be able to snatch him away anymore. The plans for infiltrating the Tri-Wizard Tournament won't work. If the Aurors are this quick to respond to even the slightest bit of provocation during the World Cup for the sake of 'international relations,' then they will no doubt make sure to double-check all of the preparations for the tournament. And replacing Mad-Eye will not go unnoticed for long if they are on the ball."
Barty wasn't so sure of that. Amelia had shown herself to be more competent than usual, but that was rather out of character for the Ministry as of late.
Instead, he voiced a suggestion. "Could we not convince Snape or Karkaroff to plant the Portkey?"
"A turncoat and a coward?" Voldemort sneered. "No. I will not risk it. Much as I would have preferred to use the boy in the ritual, some other foe's blood will have to suffice. And I have many enemies."
Barty bowed his head. It was true, after all. And was it not the mark of a great man to have many enemies? He wasn't sure if that was how the saying went, but it fit well enough given the situation.
"I shall fetch the bones from the graveyard, then, master," Barty vowed.
He wasn't sure why his master needed the remains of some Muggle lordling, but if the Dark Lord said they were necessary for the ritual, then he'd obtain them.
This was a setback, but a minor one. A tactical retreat in order to return stronger than ever! Soon, oh so soon, Voldemort would rise again, whole and mighty beyond measure! And then the world would tremble before the Death Eaters as they took their rightful place as masters of it all!
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Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope you all stay safe and warm as the year comes to an end!