Harry Potter and the Angry Grim Reaper - TomHRichardson - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: Sixth Time Dead

Chapter Text

Date: 2nd May 1998 (or was it?)
Someplace eternal and unearthly

In a small office with white-painted walls, Harry Potter was sitting on a grey-painted metal chair in front of a grey-painted metal desk. On the desk were six piles of manila folders, each pile being three feet tall.

Behind the desk sat Harry’s personal Grim Reaper, a right git. The git’s name was Gerhardus, and he was wearing quite old-fashioned clothing—centuries old. At the moment, Gerhardus was acting angry at Harry. Harry was feeling just as angry at Gerhardus.

To Harry’s left, on the wall hung a calendar—for April, 1823. Only through 11th April were day-squares crossed out on the calendar page.

Behind Gerhardus, the wall had two doors. The door on the right was covered with pearlescent paint. The door on the left was painted red; round the red door, the doorjamb and the floor all were dirtied with black soot.

****

“So, Gerhardus, let me get this straight,” Harry growled. “I’m dead. In fact, I’ve died five times before today—starting with Ripper ripping my throat out. The next time I died, I snapped my neck when I fell off my broom during a Quidditch game. Killed in the graveyard once. Followed Sirius into the Veil once. Once I got Kissed on the Hogwarts Express, then my mindless body died of heart failure. Today I let Voldemort AK me so that my friends would be safe, and now you are acting like Snape after a Potions accident. Whatever you think your nasty problem is at the moment, your problem can’t be as bad as mine—I’m dead.”

Gerhardus snapped, “This is your sixth death. The Big Boss now will be reviewing my work. I might be demoted, all because of you.”

“Sod that!” Harry yelled. “You’re like Ron, you’re like Draco—blaming everybody but yourself for your mistakes. You tell me that I’ve sat in this chair five times before, that I’ve been sent back to relive my life five times before, but I don’t remember any of this! How do you expect me to fix my mistakes when I don’t remember my mistakes? What’s the use of giving me advice when, the moment I leave here, I forget the advice?”

Gerhardus glared at Harry, then pulled down the top folder from one of the piles. Gerhardus said, “Despite my better judgement, I shall give you one more chance.”

From the folder, Gerhardus pulled out a preprinted contract and began filling in its blanks. Halfway down the second page, Gerhardus crossed out a paragraph and wrote “Memory fully retained” in the margin.

Once Gerhardus had filled out the contract, he tossed it at Harry. Gerhardus snapped, “I’m sending you back one more time, but this time with your memories intact. The horcrux shall be gone from your scar. Now sign this and get going, because I have other souls I must process today.”

Harry did not reach for the contract. Instead, he said, “Remind me: What do I win if I go back and I fulfill my destiny?”

Gerhardus huffed, then replied, “You kill Voldemort, you hook up with your soulmate, who is some Granger girl with a weird first name, and you live with her till you’re 184 years old. Fame and riches might be included, but they’re not guaranteed.”

“And if I go back but I mess up again? If I get killed as a Hogwarts student?”

Gerhardus glared at Harry. “In that case, I as your Grim Reaper can recommend to higher-ups that your soul be Annihilated. So don’t get killed again, you hear me? Now sign that and get out of my office—I’m backlogged even more now than when you walked in.”

Harry said sweetly, “So what you’re saying is, right now I’m taking up your valuable time?”

“Yes!”

Harry said sweetly, “Let me help you with your backlog problem.” Then—r-r-i-p—Harry tore the contract in half. Harry stared-down Gerhardus and said, “Rather than suffer through Snape’s bullying, Ron’s envy and Dumbledore’s manipulations once more, I think I’d rather walk through yonder pearly door and be reunited with my family and friends.”

“No!” yelled Gerhardus. “You must go back! You’re the Chosen One of prophecy, the only one who can stop Voldemort!”

“Hm,” Harry said as he pretended to stroke his chin, “getting hugs from Mum, ten minutes from now, or risking my soul being Annihilated forever. Oh my, what should I do?”

Gerhardus gulped. Then his face turned sly. “I know someone who can persuade you.”

Gerhardus dug about in a desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of gold foil and a silver quill. Gerhardus’s writing left silver ink behind, as he wrote “Attention Department 2: request Albus P Dumbledore.” In tiny silver letters that Harry was almost unable to read, Gerhardus added, “Use the sideways trick.” Gerhardus waved a hand over the silver ink, then the ink disappeared, leaving the gold foil unmarked again.

Harry and Gerhardus waited several minutes—Gerhardus did not explain why.

Then Harry heard a thump noise, which came from either the red door or the pearly door. Gerhardus immediately said, “Ignore the noise. It’s not important.”

But Harry did not ignore the noise. Harry was looking at both doors when Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the red door, hurriedly shut the red door, then stepped sideways so that he was standing in front of the closed pearly door.

“Harry my boy!” smiling Dumbledore called as he walked towards Harry.

Harry made a show of sniffing deeply. “They must burn lots of matches in Heaven, headmaster. You reek of burnt sulphur. Either that, or you were sent to Hell but you’re trying to mislead me, hm?”

Dumbledore asked Gerhardus lowly, “Why have I been called up here?”

Gerhardus replied lowly, “I need for Potter here to go back in time and this time fulfill his destiny. This is his sixth screw-up. If he doesn’t fulfill his destiny, I’ll be demoted to British Isles Grim Reaper for Roadkill. But instead of going back to Earth and back in time, Potter wants to claim his Reward. The boy is selfish, I swear.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry, his eyes twinkling. “Harry my boy, I’m so disappointed in you.”

“Go to Hell,” Harry replied.

“Harry, that was rude.”

“I meant it literally—go back to Hell.”

Then Harry stood up, walked around Dumbledore and walked past Gerhardus’s desk. Harry walked up to the pearly door and put his hand on the handle, but did not open the door. Harry said, “Sod your head-games, both of you. Gerhardus, either Mr Twinkle-Eyes walks back through the red door that he just came from, or I walk through this pretty door right now.”

Gerhardus’s face went tomato-red then, perhaps because Harry was no longer acting like how a “proper” soul was supposed to act in front of that soul’s Grim Reaper.

Seeing Gerhardus’s anger, Harry added, “I truly don’t care if you’re sent to seize the souls of squashed squirrels for the next ten thousand years. Now choose.”

Gerhardus quickly dismissed Dumbledore—who could not hide the fear on his face when Gerhardus pointed to the red door.

When Dumbledore, with clear reluctance, put his hand on the handle of the red door, he and Harry were only a few feet apart. Harry said to him, “According to Gerhardus, my destiny is meant to be killing Voldemort, marrying Hermione and living to 184 years old. That’s impossible to do if the supposed only way to kill Voldemort is to let him AK me, so that the horcrux in my scar is killed. You sodding piece of sh*t, I sacrificed my life needlessly because of your lie!”

“Harry my boy—”

“GO TO HELL!”

When Dumbledore had returned to his next great barbecued adventure, Gerhardus looked at Harry and sighed. “Tell me what you want.”

Harry said, “I want more than just keeping my memories, and the horcrux gone from my scar.”

Gerhardus said, “I’m listening.”

****

Harry said, “Whilst they were alive, Dumbledore and Snape routinely read the minds of students—do you see what a disaster it would be if the Master Manipulator and the Dark Lord knew the future?”

Gerhardus gasped; his face looked horrified.

Harry said, “My first demand, and this is nonnegotiable: I want some kind of bulletproof protection against mind-magics. Legilimency, Imperius, mind-affecting potions, et cetera—they all fail, all the time, when someone tries them on me. Only the Sorting Hat may come in.”

Gerhardus nodded. “This one I can agree to.”

Harry said, “I’m serious about no mind-affecting potions affecting my mind. As I’m sitting here, I’m realising, ‘I was never truly in love with Ginny Weasley. How could I have thought so? She’s a stalker.’ And whilst I’m talking to you, I’m also wondering, ‘Why did I always do what Ron wanted, whenever Ron wanted to do it? When Ron snogged Lavender and Hermione was so upset, why did I not even try to tell Hermione how I felt?’ I’m angry right now, realising that both Ginny and Ron potioned me whilst I trusted them.”

Gerhardus said, “Agreed. We’ll ‘bulletproof’ your mind when you go back. Anything else?”

Harry nodded. “On the first page of that contract I tore up, it said something like, ‘You can’t tell anyone that you’re from the future or why you’re here.’ I want Hermione Granger to be the one person in the past whom I’m allowed to tell, and I want her to have the same no-mind-magics protection that you give me. Bloody hell, that wanker Ron potioned Hermione beginning in sixth year, and I won’t allow her to be mind-raped during my second run-through!”

Gerhardus said, “But every person you tell...” His voice trailed off, then he was silent for a long time. At last he said, “Agreed.” He sounded hesitant.

Harry said, “Before I leave here, I need to know things—more things than I know now. Because of Dumbledore, I was starved for years, I was beaten way too many times and I was ignorant. How many mistakes did I make, how many poor choices did I make, because information that I should have been told beforehand, I didn’t know? Also, Dumbledore has lied to me at least once—how many lies has he told me that I still believe?”

Gerhardus grunted in reply.

Harry continued, “After all, when I time-travel to the past, my remembering stuff from now does me no good if I’m still ignorant and I’m still believing lies.”

“True,” Gerhardus said, in a Where are you going with this? tone of voice.

Harry added, “In addition: Making important events turn out right, this takes planning, but I’m bugger-all at planning. Usually I ad-lib on the spot. All of these things I’ve told you, lead up to my next demand.”

“Go on,” Gerhardus said cautiously.

“And don’t tell me it can’t be done; you just proved otherwise. Before I go back in time and try again to save Wizarding Britain from Mr Noseless, I want advice from some experts.”

Harry chin-pointed at the pearlescent-painted door. “From some dead experts.”

Chapter 2: Harry Meets Thanatos

Chapter Text

Gerhardus asked, “Who are the dead experts whom you wish to consult?”

Harry answered, “James Charlus Potter, my father; Lily Marie Potter née Evans, my mother; and the Hogwarts founders: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin.”

Ten minutes later, the six requested experts were standing in Gerhardus’s tiny office. Harry was surprised to see the man who wore green-and-silver robes, walk through the pearly door instead of entering through the red door.

****

As soon as Lily Potter was in the same room as Harry, she ran to him and kissed him over and over, whilst she Hermy-hugged him. James Potter did not run to his son, nor did James kiss Harry, but James’ hugs were just as tight as Lily’s. James pounded Harry’s back, which Lily had not done.

As soon as the four founders plus the two parents all were in Gerhardus’s office, Gerhardus led everyone else to a room that was dominated by a seven- or eight-foot-diameter round wooden table. Gerhardus conjured quills and handmade paper, then hurried from the room.

As soon as Gerhardus shut the door behind him, Lily turned to Harry with a sad face. “Harry, when James and Sirius and I came out of the Stone, just before you dueled Voldemort, I am so sorry for what we said to you.”

James’ face also looked sad. “Lils and I sacrificed our lives for you, so that you would live a long life. The last thing we wanted was for you to sacrifice yourself, nobly or otherwise! But the magic of the Stone compelled the three of us to lie to you and say, ‘Go ahead and sacrifice your life; we’re fine with it.’ ”

“What Stone are you talking about?” Godric asked.

Harry answered, “Remember the story of the three brothers who outsmarted Death, and Death gave one of the brothers a Resurrection Stone that let him call dead people to him?”

The four founders nodded.

“The Stone is real; Cadmus Peverell originally owned it. However, the children’s story doesn’t tell you that when you call forth a soul, he or she hurts, like you’re hitting him or her with the Cruciatus.”

Lily said, “The pain wasn’t that bad—more like a full-body sunburn. Painful, yes, but I still could talk. But Harry, I could tell that you were feeling guilty, seeing the three of us in pain.”

James nodded. “The pain was bad enough, but I hated making you feel guilty, besides me giving you ‘fatherly advice’ that I didn’t mean.”

Salazar said impatiently, “Is this touching parent-and-child moment over? Then please, young man, tell us why you have called the six of us away from Heaven.”

Harry said, “We seven are here to figure out how to defeat Voldemort, how to defeat him many years before 1998, and how to stop my life from being a nonstop pile of offal before Voldemort dies.”

****

Harry began, “The first thing I need advice on is, When should I mind-travel back to? The latest suitable time, I think, is just before the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament during my fourth year. Voldemort was resurrected at the end of the Third Task; this happened in June of 1995. The earliest suitable time would be 24th July, 1991, a week before my eleventh birthday. This was the day I received my Hogwarts letter.”

“Actually,” said Lily, “rather than mind-travel back to the day you got your letter, you should go back to the day before, when you’re off everyone’s radar.”

James said, “Please explain the Muggle term radar, Lils.” Harry got the impression that this was a sentence that James had spoken many times since he and Lily had met.

It was a shock to Harry that besides the two Muggle-raised magicals, Lily and Harry, knowing what radar was and how it worked, Rowena Ravenclaw also knew. Rowena made as much explanation to the other three founders as did Lily.

After the radar side-issue was dealt with, Harry asked his mum why he should go back to the day before he got his letter, not the day of the letter.

It was James who answered: “Son, between the minute you arrive and your eleventh birthday on 31st July, there are things you need to do and questions you need to ask. Thanks to ten years’ worth of Dumbledore’s plots that go back to 1981, you didn’t know to do those things the first time, and you didn’t know to ask those questions. Merlin, simply claiming the Heir Potter ring when you were eleven, and the Lord Potter ring after the Triwizard Tournament, would have improved your life so much.”

Lily nodded. “But you never knew. You never were told. But this time, we’re fixing all that!”

Harry asked, “What things was it important to know, that I didn’t know?”

James replied, “For one thing, as a Potter, you own several houses in various countries. The ancestral mansion, Potter Manor, was damaged enough during the first Voldemort war that it’s uninhabitable; but there is many times enough money in the Potter family vault for you to repair Potter Manor. Also, the Potter family has bonded with four house-elves, the leader of whom is Greyclay. You can call Greyclay anytime, from anywhere, and Dumbledore can’t command him.”

Lily added, “Dumbledore, acting as Chief Warlock, sealed our wills that were filed at the Wizengamot. The same wills that spelled out who your guardians were supposed to be: Sirius Black, then Alice Longbottom, then Amelia Bones. You were never supposed to have a ‘Muggle guardian,’ much less Petunia being your Muggle guardian; nor did we intend for Dumbledore to be your magical guardian.”

Harry scowled. “Why am I not surprised?”

“As soon as you can do so, after you’ve travelled to the past, run to Gringotts and get copies of our wills. Send a copy of our wills to Amelia Bones, tell her that Sirius could not be guilty and he was never given a trial. Meanwhile, get the goblins to hold the readings for our wills.”

Lily added, “New topic. I want you to summon Greyclay, have him bring you my student trunk, and have Greyclay put my student trunk under a Notice-Me-Not charm so Petunia’s family won’t bother it. Touch the wooden square at the top; since you’re of my blood, the trunk will unlock for you. I want you to read at least two of my seven Hogwarts diaries, before you meet with anyone from Hogwarts. Which segues nicely into...”

Then Lily mentioned Severus Snape, and the arguing began, whilst the four founders quietly listened.

Lily strongly urged Harry to involve Snape in his plans to defeat Voldemort; James was, just as strongly, opposed to Harry and Severus Snape ever laying eyes on each other outside of a Potions class—

At one point, James yelled, “Lils, why are you defending Snivellus? Why are you saying anything nice about him? Have you forgotten him calling you that word, right after you were trying to help him? That ingrate git! And for how Professor Snape treated Harry in his classes, the man should have been publicly Crucio’d. Snivellus was a man who completely hated Harry!”

Lily snapped back, “He didn’t hate Harry, he hated you, and Harry, my poor boy, looks just like you—”

“Except Harry has Lily’s bright-green eyes,” Godric Gryffindor noted.

Lily gave her former House’s namesake a quick smile, then she glared at her husband. “You don’t know this, but hours after Sev called me a mudblood and I ended our friendship, he was in the corridor outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. Sev was weeping, and he begged me to forgive him. Want to know what I told him? ‘Go away. Why don’t you become a Death Eater now? After all, you’ve shown the world that you think like they think. Now excuse me, I have homework to do.’ Then I turned my back on him and ran back through the portrait hole. Merlin, Harry, I made Sev what he is today!”

Harry was torn. He understood the logic of his mother’s arguments, and normally her arguments would be persuasive. “But Merlin, Mum, we’re talking about Snape!”

Right after this, Harry announced the date that he would mind-travel to. Then Harry and the other six people in the conference room began to plan the next seven years (if so many years were needed) that would lead to Voldemort’s defeat.

****

Harry, to be honest, was starstruck at talking with the Hogwarts Four. He was amused when he noticed that his parents likewise were awed by the four founders of Hogwarts.

Harry was especially intimidated by Rowena Ravenclaw, who had the black hair and facial beauty of Daphne Greengrass, combined with Hermione’s genius mind.

Salazar Slytherin, Harry learnt, did not hate Muggle-borns. No, Slytherin hated Muggle-borns who had helped their Muggle friends and family with witch-hunting.

Harry tried to imagine the Doctors Granger, each dressed in a snow-white dentist uniform, waving torches and pitchforks and yelling Kill the witches! Harry snickered at the thought. He was sure that Salazar Slytherin would find no fault with Hermione Granger if they somehow could meet.

Something else Harry learnt: Rowena had opposed having a Restricted Section at the library, because she had believed (and still believed now) that “Knowledge should be free.”

So how did the Hogwarts Library get a Restricted Section? As Helga Hufflepuff explained, “The other three of us believed strongly that there were certain books that younger students should not be allowed to read. But Rowena would not listen to our arguments! So finally we shunned her—we didn’t speak to her, and we ignored her whenever she spoke. I don’t know about Godric and Salazar, but it killed me to shun my best friend. But after a week of shunning, Rowena agreed to restrict some of our books.”

At this point, Helga walked over and hugged a crying Rowena.

At one point during the planning session, Salazar cursed in Parseltongue. Harry was surprised to discover that not only could he himself understand what was said, but so could his mum—who rebuked Salazar. “§Language, sir!§”

****

Later

The planning session in the conference room was ending; Harry had written seventeen pages’ worth of notes and plans.

But before the planning session ended completely, the four founders briefly conferred—then they, jointly, told Harry several amazing (and useful!) bits of information.

This ended the planning session.

After the seven people walked out of the conference room and into Gerhardus’s office, Rowena and Helga hugged Harry goodbye. Godric both shook Harry’s hand and gave Harry a hug that ended with a backslap. Salazar settled for a handshake. Then the four founders walked away from Harry and through the pearly door.

James hugged Harry, then Lily both hugged and kissed her son. Then both Potter parents hugged Harry again. Lily was crying when James led her away from Harry and towards the pearly door.

Now only Harry and Gerhardus were in Gerhardus’s office.

Gerhardus stood up from his chair. He said stiffly, “My boss, Thanatos, wishes to speak to both of us.” Gerhardus picked up Harry’s folder and led Harry out of Gerhardus’s office, along a corridor and to a bone-white-coloured door. Gerhardus knocked.

On the wall next to the door were several hundred words, going from ceiling to floor in tiny writing. The words were in every alphabet that Harry had ever seen, including Oriental writing, Cyrillic writing, and many Roman-alphabet words. Amongst the words that Harry did not know, and the words that Harry could not even read, he spotted the words Θάνατος, Mors, Mort, Muerte and Death.

Gerhardus had knocked on the door. On the other side of the door, a male voice yelled words in a language that Harry did not recognise. Gerhardus opened the door and walked in; Harry followed.

In the gigantic room were many, many filing cabinets, which were being tended by winged angels in white robes. In a corner of the room was a huge, wooden desk, into which were carved dancing skeletons. Behind this desk sat a man.

The man was head-shaved so that he was shiny-bald. He was wearing what clearly was intended as armour, though it was made of brown leather that was held in place by bronze rings.

Behind the man, a cowled black robe hung from a peg in the wall. A large wood-and-steel scythe rested again two walls in that corner of the room. Near where the black robe was hanging, a round, wooden shield, about two and a half feet in diameter, and a stubby bronze sword both had been mounted on the wall. The shield had many gouges, and the edges of the sword had many nicks.

Whereas Gerhardus’s desk was messy, the only thing on Thanatos’s desk was a pair of skulls, back to back. The skull whose face that Harry could see, had pink, healthy lips and flesh out to its (nonexistent) ears, all covering its lower face.

Thanatos spoke in his language. The half-face skull that was facing Gerhardus and Harry said, in Thanatos’s male voice, “This man is willing to make his seventh try to fulfill his destiny, but he makes conditions. You have given him a warning.”

Gerhardus replied, “Yes, I warned Harry James Potter here that if he fails a seventh time, his soul shall be Annihilated.” The skull that was facing Thanatos now spoke with Gerhardus’s voice, but spoke in Thanatos’s native language.

Thanatos yelled, “O Antonia-nib, something-something-something Harry James Potter something.” This was magically translated as “Antonia, bring me the revised contract for Harry James Potter.”

A brunette-haired female angel walked up to the desk and laid a filled-out contract on the otherwise clean desk, then she walked away. Thanatos waved a hand, and the English words of the contract changed to different text, which ran from top to bottom, left to right, in an alphabet of wedge-shapes, big dots and crazy letters that Harry had never seen before.

Thanatos read both pages of the contract, then waved his hand. The text of the unsigned contract turned back into English that was in the Roman alphabet, and that was read left to right. Thanatos pushed the contract towards Harry.

Thanatos said to Harry, “The key terms of your contract are these: the horcrux that is in your scar in your younger body shall be immediately destroyed. You keep your memories when your mind goes back to the past. You and your soulmate Hermione Granger are immune to all mind-magics, except that you each can be mind-read by the Hogwarts school’s enchanted hat. You may tell Hermione Granger, but nobody else, that you are from the future and that you have been dead six times before. Are there any other terms you wish to add to the contract?”

“No, sir.”

Thanatos said, “Your terms are acceptable. But Gerhardus’s threat, of soul-Annihilation if you fail again, also is acceptable. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“No, sir, I don’t understand at all,” Harry said, then waited whilst strange words were spoken in Harry’s voice. “I understand what happened to my parents—they lived a good life, then they died, then they went to Heaven. Whereas Albus Dumbledore did wicked things, he died, and he was sent to Hell. Where does Annihilation figure in?”

Thanatos sighed, then replied, “If you were not the subject of a prophecy, it would be as you say.” Thanatos looked questioningly at Gerhardus. “You described this man as ‘virtuous’ in his six lives, did you not?”

Gerhardus replied, “Yes, sir. He has died a virgin every time; but considering that he has dated Ginevra Molly Weasley during his last life, this shows he has amazing self-control. Miss Weasley makes Lucrezia Borgia seem like a nun, especially with Weasley’s fondness for potions.”

Thanatos stared hard at Harry. “The prophecy gives you a destiny you must fulfill—sorry, but this is one of the rules. If you would fail to achieve your destiny and you were wicked, the rule would be simple: Upon your death, you would be sent to Hell. If you were like everyone else you know, with no destiny to possibly fail at, and you were virtuous, again your Judgement would be simple: Heaven. But if you fail at your destiny, you ruin what Fate has decreed, so why should you be rewarded for this when you die? Even if you are virtuous? Hence, soul-Annihilation if you fail.”

Harry muttered, “Married to Hermione for 160-plus years if I succeed, and Annihilation if I fail. No pressure.”

Then Thanatos smiled at Harry. “But not all the news is bad. As soon as you arrive in the past, Albus Dumbledore will lose control of the Deathstick to you, and you can summon all three Deathly Hallows to you, anytime you want. As soon as you touch the Gaunt ring that has the Resurrection Stone attached, all curses on the ring will end without harming you, and the horcrux that is attached to the ring shall be destroyed.”

Harry grinned. “That’s great! The hardest of the seven horcruxes to find and destroy, now becomes the easiest. Thank you!”

Then Harry’s grin faded. “May I ask you something that might make you angry? In the story, the brother who was given the Invisibility Cloak was able to hide even from Death.”

Thanatos scowled.

Harry asked, “So why is it that when I was at Hogwarts, Dumbledore the headmaster always knew when I was in the room?”

Thanatos laughed. “He knew because that son-of-a-tanner cheated. The Cloak itself cannot be spelled—but the Cloak is silver-coloured, is it not? Dumbledore sewed a silver-coloured cotton thread into the Cloak, then put a tracking charm on his impostor thread. If you want to stand one cubit away from Dumbledore and he doesn’t know you’re there, find and remove the cotton thread in the Cloak.”

Harry nodded. “Knowing Dumbledore as I do, this doesn’t surprise me. He thinks he’s entitled to know everything, whilst telling everyone else nothing.”

Then clearly everything that needed to be said, had already been said. Harry signed the contract, then he watched as Gerhardus and Thanatos also signed.

The only thing left to do was for Harry to tell Thanatos what day and time in the past, Harry’s mind would be sent to.

After Harry stated his choice, Thanatos said, “As I said a minute ago, I permit you to summon all three Deathly Hallows to you, any time. But on this date that you gave me, Albus Dumbledore owns two of the Hallows, and he quickly will notice if they disappear. So give thought to when you claim the Invisibility Cloak and the Deathstick; it would be unwise to rush.”

Harry nodded.

****

Seconds later, Thanatos, at Harry’s request, placed a Notice-Me-Not charm on Harry’s seventeen pages of notes and plans. With this done, Harry shoved the papers into a pocket of his pants.

Then Thanatos pointed at Harry and spoke formally in his native language.

Colours swirled, as Harry’s body felt strange.

****

Then everything turned black—but Harry was still conscious. He now was in someplace dark.

BAM-BAM-BAM. Aunt Petunia yelled, “Wake up, boy, and fix us breakfast!”

One minute ago, Harry had been three months away from his eighteenth birthday. Now the time was early morning, the date was 23rd July 1991, and Harry was eight days short of his eleventh birthday.

Chapter 3: The First Day Back

Chapter Text

6:35 a.m., Tuesday, 23rd July, 1991
Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

BAM-BAM-BAM. Aunt Petunia yelled, “Wake up, boy, and fix us breakfast!”

****

Most of Harry’s day was taken up by chores, whilst fat Dudley either sat in the sitting room watching the telly, or Dudley went out to hang out with Piers and his other friends—bullying neighbourhood children in the process.

Harry did all of his chores without complaint, and worked his chores up to his aunt and uncle’s high standards. Why not? The Dursleys’ happy world was about to end; let them enjoy their last day with everything “normal.”

Tomorrow, Harry would get a quite special letter, addressed to “The cupboard under the stairs.” The last time this happened, Petunia and Vernon had felt panic, and Harry himself had been too bewildered by events to take advantage of his terrible relatives. But not so, this time.

****

Whilst Harry was working on chores, he made two pleasant discoveries.

The first was that with the horcrux in his scar now dead, his glasses blurred his vision till he took the glasses off. As soon as Harry discovered that his bad eyesight was gone, he “accidentally” stepped on his glasses and broke them. He was sure that the Dursleys would not offer to replace them.

Besides the fact that the glasses had made his vision worse this morning, Harry had another reason for getting rid of them. On 1st September, Wizarding Britain would be expecting a boy who wore glasses. Would they still recognise this same boy without glasses?

Harry’s other happy discovery of today also related to the horcrux in his scar: For the first time that he could remember, touching his scar no longer hurt.

****

When Harry finished his chores, he climbed the stairs to the attic. He did not visit the attic often—the attic in winter was arctic cold, whilst the attic in late July was an oven. Aunt Petunia did not forbid Harry from visiting the attic today—perhaps she secretly hoped that her freak nephew would die of heatstroke.

What Aunt Petunia did not know was that Harry would be spending only a few minutes in the attic.

As soon as Harry shut the attic door and switched on the naked lightbulb, he said lowly, “Greyclay, Harry Potter calls you.”

Pop.

Harry had never seen this house-elf before. Greyclay was a bit younger than Kreacher, and much older than Dobby. Greyclay’s eyes were grey. He was wearing a shrunk-down grey tuxedo and black cumme*rbund, with what must be the Potter crest on his left breast.

The house-elf was looking at Harry with total hope.

Greyclay all but begged, “Master Harry Potter is ready to lead the Potter family now?”

Harry smiled. “In eight days I will be eleven, and I plan to claim my Heir ring. As soon as I can get a key to the Potter family vaults”—Harry did not tell Greyclay that this might happen when Harry was fourteen, not seventeen—“I plan to return Potter Manor to its former glory.”

Greyclay was beaming. “We Potter elves are ready to serve Master Harry Potter!”

“My first order is to let me meet my other house-elves, and I want to see for myself how badly damaged Potter Manor is.”

Greyclay held out a hand and Harry took it. An instant later, Potter stood in the kitchen of Potter Manor, with Greyclay and three other excited house-elves in front of him.

The house-elves were grinning, Harry noticed, but their legs were shaky. Harry recognised the symptom: his house-elves were magically weak. Harry pushed magic from his core into each of the four elves until he started to feel dizzy—but by then, the house-elves’ shaky-legs problem was gone.

When Harry was given a tour of Potter Manor, he learnt that the wards all were down. A corner of the roof was gone; underneath that collapsed roof, there was a ground-to-roof slit where two sides of the house were supposed to meet. Several rooms of the manor house were exposed to rain and snow, and to small animals. But at least the library and the kitchen were undamaged.

Harry gave the house-elves his thoughts: “It will be years before I’ll be given a key to the Potter family vaults; until then, the only money I can spend on home repair is what’s in my trust vault. But whilst I can’t fix the manor house yet, I’ll gladly fix you loyal Potter elves. Anytime, if you need a magical recharge, come see me. Now, the only limit on this is that if I’m at the house of my relatives in Surrey, I ask you to come with a Notice-Me-Not spell already applied on yourself, otherwise life will quickly turn nasty for me.”

****

Next, Harry used part of the power that Thanatos had granted him. Harry walked over to the kitchen table and said, “I summon the Potter family Invisibility Cloak, which Thanatos once gave to Ignotus Peverell.”

The Invisibility Cloak appeared, folded, on the kitchen table. When not worn, the Cloak appeared to be made of silver-coloured satin.

Harry said, “Elves, hurry! Sewn into this Cloak is a cotton thread that is the same colour of silver, but which has tracking charms and maybe other spells on it. Find that thread, get it away from the Cloak without damaging the Cloak, then cancel all the charms and spells on the thread!”

It took only seconds for four house-elves, working together, to do this.

When Greyclay told Harry that the cloak was completely spell-free, Harry said, “Let’s test it out.”

Harry unfolded the Invisibility Cloak and laid it atop his head. The three youngest house-elves gasped.

Stepping as quietly as he could, Harry walked away from the kitchen table. None of the house-elves turned to watch him move; they all were staring at the spot by the table where he had been—

—until one of his trainers scuffed against the floor. Then all four elves turned to face him.

When Harry pulled the Cloak off his head, he was laughing. “Elves, I am so pleased! Now, let’s make the test harder. Greyclay, please put silencing charms on my trainers.”

When this was done, Harry said, “Now, I promise I won’t leave the kitchen. When the Cloak makes me invisible, Potter house-elves, I want you to use every spell you can think of, to find me when you know I’m in the kitchen but invisible.”

The house-elves failed totally. Even when Harry stood two feet in front of a house-elf, that house-elf had no suspicion that Harry was anywhere close to him.

Harry gave to his four house-elves, thirty minutes to find him. They did not find him. When Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak the second time, he was grinning like Luna Lovegood being given a gallon of pudding. As Harry walked over to the kitchen table and folded up the Cloak, he said aloud, “Oh my, Albus and Tommy, I can have such fun with you lot—but you’d never know it, would you?”

****

Whilst at Potter Manor, Harry went searching for an ancestral wand that was compatible with him. The wand of Haroldus Cyrus Potter turned out to be the most compatible. This made Harry happy. Not only was Harry spared the expense of paying Garrick Ollivander for a second wand, but Haroldus’s wand did not have the Trace on it.

****

Back in Gerhardus’s conference room, Lily had told Harry that her student trunk was in the attic of Potter Manor. Now Harry told Greyclay to fetch this trunk. Sure enough, just as Harry’s mum had predicted, Harry only needed to touch the square at the top of the trunk, and suffer a momentary finger-prick, and the trunk unlocked for him. Inside this trunk, Harry found his mum’s diaries as a first-year and second-year Hogwarts student, and laid those two diaries on the kitchen table. Then Harry locked his mother’s student-trunk.

****

Now it was time for Harry to be returned to his relatives’ house. Harry looked at his house-elves and said, “I’m leaving the Invisibility Cloak and my mum’s trunk here for now, but I’ll be calling for them soon. In the meantime, forget whatever is written in the Ward Ledger—don’t let anyone in here except for me and anyone I directly tell you to let in. Nobody from Hogwarts is allowed in here, whether wizard, witch or house-elf. Am I clear?”

Greyclay said with determination, “We Potter elves will fight to the death to keep intruders out of Potter Manor.”

Harry stared for several seconds, then made himself say “Erm, thank you.”

****

Greyclay elf-popped Harry from the kitchen of Potter Manor to the attic of Number 4. Greyclay also brought along the wand of Haroldus Cyrus Potter and the first two of Lily Evans’s Hogwarts diaries.

After Harry said goodbye to Greyclay, and before leaving the attic, Harry used his ancestor’s wand to cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself and his mum’s diaries. He walked down two flights of stairs and walked into the sitting room, where Dudley was watching the telly.

Dudley said nothing to Harry, and did not look at him.

As an experiment, Harry stood directly between Dudley and the television screen. Dudley’s only response was to lean sideways till he again could see the screen.

Harry sat down in the comfortable armchair that Uncle Vernon favoured, cast a Silencing spell so that he would not be bothered by the sound of the telly, and started to read Lily’s first-year diary.

About half six, Uncle Vernon walked into the sitting room. He neither sat down in “his” armchair, nor did he angrily order Harry to leave the armchair. Instead, he sat down on the couch, his face showing confusion for several seconds.

****

Harry found something startling in his mum’s first-year diary—

Sev saved my bacon in Potions class today.

As usual, Slytherin Sev was partnered with Gryffindor me, even though both of our Houses hate this.

We were making the Headache Relief Potion, which if you do it right, turns a pretty lavender colour. The recipe says that after you add the chopped pumpkin seeds, you’re supposed to stir the potion anticlockwise for five turns. Simple, right?

Sev was who added the pumpkin seeds, because he really has a knack for chopping, dicing, slicing, etc. I stirred the potion once, anticlockwise, like I should. But then Timothy Brown started arguing with Paulus Yaxley about—who knows? Who cares? Anyway, I stopped stirring, because I got distracted. Sev cleared his throat. I realised I’d stopped, so I resumed stirring. THE WRONG WAY. I MADE FOUR STIRS CLOCKWISE.

The potion turned a horrid green colour! I thought, “Oh no, Prof. Slughorn is going to give Sev and me each a TROLL for this potion.”

But then Sev said, “I’ve an idea!” He took one of our extra pumpkin seeds and REALLY chopped it up. Basically he turned it into pumpkin-seed dust. Then Sev told me, “Stir the potion SIX AND A HALF turns anticlockwise, and I’ll add the fine pumpkin seed after you’ve stirred six turns.”

We did this, and the potion turned lavender! Saved!!!

Prof. Slughorn gave us both E’s, even though the colour was perfect, because we DID mess up. But E’s are a hundred times better than the T’s that I THOUGHT we were going to get. Prof. Slughorn also gave twenty points to Slytherin—I think because Sev AMAZED Prof. Slughorn.

After class, I asked Sev how he knew to do what he did. He shrugged and said, “I can’t explain it. I just saw it in my head, and it worked.” I then called him “my friend, the grumpy Potions genius.” This ALMOST made Sev smile.

****

When Harry got sleepy, he walked out of the sitting room, brushed his teeth, crawled into his cupboard and went to sleep.

His last thought before he fell asleep was, My Hogwarts letter comes tomorrow. Won’t the Dursleys be surprised! And I have a few surprises for Dumbledore too, you bet!

Chapter 4: The Letters from No One 2.0

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 24th July; early morning
Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

When Harry walked into the kitchen, he saw Uncle Vernon sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. Dudley also was sitting at the table, waving his Smelting stick about. Aunt Petunia was standing by a metal tub in the kitchen sink, where she was dyeing some of Dudley’s old clothes grey.

Clearly Aunt Petunia intended for these grey clothes to be Harry’s uniform at Stonewall High.

Harry thought, Those clothes are way too big for me, and they’re elephant-grey besides; all they need is a “Kick Me” sign sewn onto the back of the shirts.

Everyone in the house heard the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

Uncle Vernon was reading his newspaper. Without putting the newspaper down, he said, “Get the mail, Dudley.”

“Make Harry get it.”

“Get the mail, Harry,” ordered Uncle Vernon, still not looking up from his newspaper.

“You heard him, Harry,” said Dudley, poking Harry with his Smelting stick.

“Fine,” Harry said, sounding annoyed. But actually, Harry was happy, because he knew what was about to happen.

Harry went to the doormat and gathered the mail—

• A postcard from Aunt Marge, who was on holiday on the Isle of Wight;

• some kind of bill, in a brown envelope; and

• Harry’s Hogwarts letter, which was addressed, just like before, to “the Cupboard under the Stairs.”

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. On the back side of the envelope was a purple-wax seal with the Hogwarts crest on it.

“Hurry up, boy,” Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen. “What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke.

Let the games begin, Harry thought.

Harry walked into the kitchen, handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard—then stepped far away from the fat man’s reach.

“Oi, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said, as he held up the envelope so that she could see it clearly. “Who would write a letter to an almost-eleven-year-old boy? And not put a stamp on it?”

Aunt Petunia looked sick. Uncle Vernon was beginning to.

“The strangest part of all,” Harry said, “is that it’s addressed to ‘the Cupboard under the Stairs.’ ”

Two out of three Dursleys went chalk-white.

Dudley laughed scornfully. “The letter’s a fake. How could someone outside the house think that’s where you sleep? They got lucky that they’re right.”

Harry laughed just as scornfully back. “How did Hogwarts know my fully correct address? Magic.”

****

Harry continued, “Aren’t I right, Aunt Petunia?”

“Shut up, boy!” Uncle Vernon yelled. “I will not have talk of any fre—”

Suddenly Uncle Vernon’s newspaper became newswater—for a tiny instant, he was holding flat rectangles of water; but one second later, Vernon’s part of the kitchen table was wet. Meanwhile, Dudley’s Smelting stick flew out of his hand and began beating both the fat boy and his fat father about the head.

The metal tub in the sink, that held grey dye and Harry’s would-be Stonewall High uniforms, vanished—along with the dye, along with the grey-dyed clothes. Aunt Petunia screamed.

Harry said calmly, “I don’t need to open this parchment envelope to know that it’s from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The same school that both my parents fully attended, starting from age eleven, and which they left at age eighteen after they sat their magical A-levels. Only magical children are invited to this school. Dudley doesn’t rate a letter.”

Dudley said, “I don’t want to go! Who’d want to go to a school full of freaks?”

Dudley was smacked across the face by his Smelting stick.

Meanwhile, Harry said, “That’s a good question. Who’d want to go to a magical school if they weren’t magical?” Harry looked straight at Aunt Petunia.

Uncle Vernon said, “You are not going to this Hoggy school! I forbid it! In any case, we’re not paying for it!”

Harry laughed scornfully; Vernon scowled. Then Harry said, “No sh*t, you’re not paying for Hogwarts? You can’t even be bothered to buy me a new Stonewall High uniform—and that’s what, fifty quid maximum? And this is when anyone can look at you and Dudley and see that you have money enough to buy food.”

Uncle Vernon jumped up from the table, his fist co*cked. “You ungrateful—”

“Stay back!” Harry yelled. A red beam shot out from Harry’s outthrust right hand, and Uncle Vernon dropped limp to the floor.

“What have you done—?” Dudley yelled as he jumped up. His eyes promised murder.

A red beam shot from Harry’s left hand. Dudley dropped limp, back into his chair.

****

Aunt Petunia sounded scared: “They’re breathing, they’re not dead, right? Are they going to die?”

“No,” said Harry. “I didn’t want them dead, I just wanted them to back off.”

“Could you have killed them?”

“If I thought they were going to kill me? Yes.”

Harry glared at his mum’s Muggle sister and said, “How many of their bones have I broken? How many scars have I put on their backs? Don’t worry about me being a murderer, aunt. Worry about one of them, or both of them, being guests of Her Majesty for the rest of their lives.”

“Dudley isn’t violent.”

“Dudley intended to kill me, one minute ago. Dudley regularly beats up smaller kids in the park.”

Aunt Petunia sighed. “I don’t want the disgrace of having a family member convicted of murder. How can I get you sent to Hogwarts for ten months a year?”

Harry answered, “Sign whatever I ask you to sign.”

Then Harry, well aware that his aunt had no defences against Legilimency by unscrupulous bearded wizards, lied to Aunt Petunia: “But whilst I want to go to a magical school, it might be Manchester Magical Academy instead of Hogwarts. I have a big problem with Hogwarts, so long as Dumbledore is running it.”

Then Harry said, “Now excuse me, I have to go outside and tell an owl to stay here.”

Harry walked out the front door and looked about. No owl. Harry walked around the house and into the back garden. There he saw a barn owl perched in a tree; the owl was watching him.

Harry said to the owl, “I’m writing a letter now, which I want to be delivered to Hogwarts this morning. Will you wait for me to come into the back garden with a letter?”

“HOOT,” replied the owl.

Harry entered the house through the back door, which immediately brought Harry into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was standing there, and she looked nervous—perhaps because Vernon on the floor and Dudley in his chair still were unconscious. Aunt Petunia asked Harry, “Can you wake them up?”

Harry lied to his aunt again: “Whatever I did, I don’t know how to fix it. All I can tell you is that I didn’t want to hurt them any—so maybe they’re only asleep.”

****

Then Harry borrowed paper, envelope and a Biro pen from Aunt Petunia, and sat down to write a letter to Hogwarts. Harry had no problem writing this letter only a few feet away from his two wandlessly Stupefyed relatives—

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

My name is Harry James Potter. Today I got a letter from you, telling me I had “acceptance” at your school for magical children.

I’m confused. I also got a letter from Manchester Magical Academy (handed to me by someone called a “home elf”). MMA’s letter told me that I was accepted at their school too. I’m confused because I didn’t write to either school and ask to be your student.

That last paragraph was pure balderdash—but would Dumbledore know this?

The only reason I knew what the sentence “We await your owl no later than 31st July” means is because I read my mum’s diary from her first year at Hogwarts. To use Hogwarts words, I’m raised by my Muggle aunt and uncle, so I know nothing about wizards and witches and your world, except what my mum’s diary as a “firstie” taught me.

Let me be honest. Just from reading my mum’s diary, I don’t want to go to school at Hogwarts. Do you still have a boring ghost teaching one of your classes? Do you still have one of your classes cursed, so that no teacher lasts more than a year? Is “Muggle Studies” still taught by someone who has not lived even one day in the Muggle world?

Also, after hearing some things that my uncle and aunt have told me about how I came to be with them, I hate Albus Dumbledore, even though I’ve never met him. If the words at the top of your letter are out of date and Albus Dumbledore is not your headmaster anymore, forget this last part.

I haven’t decided yet whether I’ll keep going to school in the normal world or I’ll go to MMA. But Hogwarts? No thank you.

Harry James Potter

P.S. I want to hear from any of my parents’ friends. If you have a way to contact Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew or Severus Snape, please ask them to write me (by using Royal Mail please, not owls).

Harry put down his pen and grinned. He knew exactly what Dumbledore would do when he read Harry’s letter—which was exactly what Harry wanted Dumbles to do!

****

Two minutes later

Harry watched the owl fly away, clutching in its claws Harry’s paper-envelope letter to McGonagall.

When Harry walked into the kitchen, he saw that his uncle and cousin were awake after having been wandlessly Stunned, but they were groggy. Harry made no apology for Stunning them.

Harry noticed that Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley were giving him wary looks.

A half-hour later, after Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had gone into their bedroom and talked, they walked out and announced to both boys that Harry’s “bedroom” would be moved to Dudley’s second bedroom. Harry was not surprised that Dudley threw a tantrum, but Harry was shocked when Dudley was told, “Be silent, this is happening, deal with it.”

The first thing that Harry decided to do was to move his no-Trace wand from his old “bedroom” to his new bedroom. But how could Harry do this without his three magic-hating relatives knowing that Harry had the wand?

Harry could not use the Haroldus Cyrus Potter wand to cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on the wand itself. Instead, Harry stuck the wand inside Harry’s pants and hid it under his loose shirt. None of the Dursleys commented on any wand-shaped bulge in Harry’s clothing, during the minute that Harry had this bulge.

****

A half-hour later
Hogwarts SOW&W, Headmaster’s office

Minerva McGonagall strode into Albus’s office, and she made Albus think of a hellcat on two legs. She slapped a rectangle of paper—not parchment, paper—on Albus’s desk and yelled, “Look what you’ve done, Albus!”

Albus smugly thought, Whatever she’s angry about, it can’t be all that bad.

Then he picked up the letter and read it. It was worse than he could have ever imagined.

Harry Potter refused to attend Hogwarts? He was considering Manchester Magical Academy? And worst of all, Harry personally hated him? How could Albus Dumbledore possibly guide Harry to his suicidal destiny now? This was a disaster!

Albus considered apparating to Little Whinging and doing some Imperiusing of the Dursleys and of Harry—for the Greater Good, of course.

Minerva interrupted his thoughts. “He knows, Albus! He knows you left him with those horrid Muggle relatives of his, and he blames you! Merlin, what kind of Muggle cruelties did you and I abandon him to?”

Albus said, his eyes a-twinkle, “Now Minerva, they’re his relatives. I’m sure they’ve treated him kindly.”

Unfortunately, by now Minerva knew Albus’s verbal tricks. She pressed him: “ ‘I’m sure’ isn’t the same as ‘I know,’ Albus. How often have you checked on him?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve the situation well in hand. I’ve a Squib who reports to me about Harry. Arabella Figg, you might remember her.”

“This isn’t what I asked. How often since 1981 have you checked on Harry?”

“Minerva, you know the demands on my time—”

“Have you visited Harry Potter even once?” Albus was silent. Minerva pushed: “You need to talk to him now or you’ll never see him again.”

“If I show up at his doorstep now, he’ll spit in my face!” Then Albus got an idea: “I have the perfect solution. I’ll send Lily’s former friend Severus there, to talk-up attending Hogwarts and to talk me up.”

Albus felt so proud of himself at that moment, and Minerva’s negativity didn’t diminish this even a little. Albus amazed himself sometimes, how brilliant he was!

Of course, Lily had loudly ended her friendship with Severus, back during their fifth year, then eventually had married Severus’s enemy, James Potter. And Albus had to acknowledge, reluctantly, that Severus was by far the most hated professor at Hogwarts. Still, Albus had complete confidence in Severus.

Albus was not a bit worried about what might happen when a boy who already hated Albus, met Albus’s fiercely-hated underling who hated the boy’s father.

****

Albus did not feel like kneeling down in the fireplace and floo-calling Severus. Instead, Albus would use the Elder Wand to send a message-Patronus to Severus: “Come to my office.”

This was the plan—till Albus pulled the Elder Wand out of the pocket of his robes. He managed to send off the message-Patronus, but the task was much harder than it would have been, even last week. The Elder Wand was no longer hot in his hand; instead, it now was barely warm. Magically, the Elder Wand now was weak, it was ordinary. Albus frowned. What’s wrong with the Elder Wand, and how do I fix it?

****

Meanwhile at Number 4, Privet Drive

Harry had carried all his worldly possessions up the stairs to his “new” bedroom. This had not taken long. The moving process was made easier because the door of Harry’s new bedroom did not have a cat flap (yet) or a zillion locks on the outside of the door (yet).

As soon as all of Harry possessions were carried upstairs and were put away, Harry locked the door and called out lowly, “Greyclay.”

When Greyclay appeared, Harry asked his house-elf to fetch Lily’s student trunk that Harry had left at Potter Manor. Greyclay did this. Harry asked Greyclay to put an elf-magic Notice-Me-Not charm on his mum’s trunk. Greyclay did this too. Harry thanked Greyclay for his help, then Greyclay elf-popped away.

Harry picked up the Haroldus Cyrus Potter wand, from where he had hidden it in his room. Harry used the wand to cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself.

With the Dursleys not noticing Harry for the moment, he walked from his bedroom to the bathroom, whilst carrying his no-Trace wand.

****

In the bathroom

Harry stood in front of the sink and mirror and, using his left hand, he pulled his bangs up to uncover his forehead.

Harry had been returned to 1991 for a bit over a day—which meant that it had been only a bit over a day since the horcrux in his scar had been killed—but Harry noted that already his lightning-bolt injury was less red and inflamed.

With the horcrux dead in Harry’s scar, the lightning bolt on his forehead was now a three-part, uniquely shaped laceration. A laceration that was infamous throughout Wizarding Britain, because of those ridiculous Harry Potter books that Gilderoy Lockhart had pseudonymously written—but still, the lightning-bolt wound now was merely a laceration.

The Episkey spell, Harry had remembered Madam Pomfrey saying, was designed to heal lacerations (amongst other minor injuries).

Now Harry pointed his wand at his forehead, using his mirror-reflection to guide his wand’s aim. “Episkey,” he said. Harry’s lightning-bolt laceration felt burning-hot for a second, then ice-cold for a second.

A few seconds later, Harry said it again: “Episkey.”

The lightning bolt on Harry’s forehead now was gone, without a hint that it ever had been there.

****

Harry walked back into his bedroom, and casually stowed his no-Trace wand in his mum’s school trunk.

The doorbell rang then. Harry ran out of his bedroom, not even bothering to shut his door.

When Harry looked over the balcony railing, he saw Aunt Petunia walking out of the kitchen, towards the front door.

“Aunt Petunia,” Harry called down, “don’t open the front door till I get there.”

Aunt Petunia turned about and looked up at Harry. “Why should I do this?” she snapped.

“Because I’m willing to bet money that it’s a Hogwarts person at the front door, and I’m whom he’ll want to talk to.”

“Fine. Hurry,” she said. In the meantime, she pulled a key from her pocket and locked the cupboard under the stairs.

This annoyed Harry, but then he grinned evilly. You’ve never heard of “Alohom*ora,” have you, dear aunt?

As Harry thought this, he hurried down the stairs, then stood himself at a place where he was near the front door but could not be seen by whoever was standing on the doorstep. Harry then gestured to Aunt Petunia, Continue.

Aunt Petunia opened the door. Immediately she snarled, “You!”

“Petunia,” a man’s voice drawled. That voice packed more hurtfulness into the one word of Harry’s aunt’s name, than Draco Malfoy could have caused with a hundred schoolboy words of insult.

The man’s voice continued, “Or do you prefer I call you ‘Tuney’?”

Chapter 5: Snape Visits Privet Drive

Chapter Text

Severus Snape had an image to maintain. He knew that black wizard robes would be out of place in a Muggle area; instead, he was wearing a black, white-pinstripe suit with black shirt and black tie. To the amazement of the headmaster and Minerva, Snape had washed his hair this morning.

Now Snape stood on the doorstep for Number 4, Privet Drive. He pressed the button to ring the doorbell. About twenty seconds later, the door opened.

“You!”

Petunia Evans, still as nasty-hearted as ever, Snape thought sourly. If Muggles could cast a Killing Curse just from a look, Snape would be dead now, from the way the horse-faced blond woman was looking at him.

“Petunia,” Snape said, in the voice that made Gryffindors quake with fear. Snape contemptuously continued, “Or do you prefer I call you ‘Tuney’?”

****

A few feet away

Aunt Petunia and Professor Snape were on opposite sides of the front doorsill, exchanging hateful words. Harry, unseen by both adults, rolled his eyes.

The former “Golden Boy of Gryffindor” now put on a Slytherin smile of cunning. Harry thought, And the BAFTA Time-Travelled Seventeen-Year-Old Actor award goes to Harry Potter, for Professor Snape, I’m Only a Kid, and I Know Little about You and Little about the Wizarding World.

Harry then ran over to the front door, to stand where Snape could see Harry clearly.

****

A boy ran up and stood next to Petunia. From how small the boy was, Snape’s first impression was that this was a younger son of Petunia’s—

“Hello!” the boy said cheerfully. “Are you from Hogwarts? Which are you, Sirius, Remus, Peter or Severus?”

Snape stared in shock. The boy has Lily’s eyes, and Potter’s messy black hair. This tiny boy is Harry Potter? At least he doesn’t wear glasses, like his father the tosser.

Distractedly, Snape replied to the boy’s question with “I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

In his head meanwhile, Snape the former abused son was noting that the boy had scars on his hands, and he was dressed like a street urchin.

Still distracted, Snape asked, “Are you Harry Potter? Your father wore glasses—”

“Really? Nobody ever told me.”

“—but I see that you do not.”

“Not any more, no.” The boy now was beaming at Snape. “I’m Harry Potter, yes, and I’m glad to meet you! Come”—then Potter looked at Petunia. “Are you going to let him stand there, where the neighbours can see, or are you going to invite him in?”

“If I must,” Petunia said grudgingly. Then Petunia pasted on a fake smile and said, “Sev, please come in.”

Petunia immediately stepped back; it was another second before the Potter boy did. In that one second, bright sunlight showed the Potter boy clearly.

The boy’s trainers were in such wretched shape, they likely would crumble to dust if Snape breathed on them hard. The boy’s clothes were way too big for him—in the legs, in the arms and in the width. Potter looks like a fourteen-year-old boy who was de-aged to nine years old, but nobody charmed his clothes.

Smiling Potter bowed, and his gesture bade Snape enter. Meanwhile, the boy was saying cheerfully, “Mum was right! In first year, she called you ‘My friend, the grumpy Potions genius,’ and now you’re a Potions Master! Erm, are you still grumpy?”

“Sometimes,” Snape said.

Then emotional pain seared Snape’s mind, he felt intense sorrow, and it was all Snape could manage to not squeeze his eyes shut. The boy’s guileless reminder of a time when “Sev” and Lily were friends, made Snape mourn anew the friendship that one moment of stupidity had cost him forever.

Snape stepped inside the house. A few feet from the front door was a staircase; now corridors passed to the left and right of this staircase. Harry led Snape along the right-hand corridor to the entrance to the sitting room. Petunia was standing there, tapping her chin with a fingertip.

“When Dudley gets home, he might want to watch the telly,” Petunia said. “Let’s go talk in the kitchen.” She turned and hurried away.

Potter explained to Snape as they followed, “Heaven forbid that anyone try to sit in the sitting room for important talk if Dudley wants to use it for telly programmes.”

As the three people walked from almost the sitting room to the kitchen, Snape noticed the triangle-shaped wall under the stairs. On that wall hung several (unmoving) photographs that showed Petunia, a fat and mustachioed man and a fat boy. None of the photos showed Potter.

As soon as Snape and Potter walked into the kitchen, Petunia’s voice snapped, “Boy, make tea for our—”

“Tuney,” Snape’s voice growled, “you have two good legs and two good arms. You can make your own tea. And thank you for your kind offer, Mr Potter and I would like some.”

Petunia huffed, but said nothing more. She filled the teakettle with water.

Potter stood there frozen for several seconds, then said, “I’ll run upstairs now, and grab my mum’s diary and the Hogwarts letter.”

Soon Potter was back in the kitchen, holding a pink-cover book. Casually the boy laid the pink book on the table in front of Snape, then casually opened the book to reveal the Hogwarts letter, which the boy was using as a bookmark. Potter laid the Hogwarts letter on the table, near the diary, with the letter turned so that the address could be read. But Snape glanced at the address only long enough to read the first line: “Mr H Potter.”

Snape’s attention was much, much more focussed on the open pink book, which showed a girl’s handwriting—

—a girl’s handwriting that Snape had not seen in sixteen years. “Lily,” he breathed.

Then Snape came back to himself, and noticed that Potter was standing way too close on his right side, instead of sitting down. “Mr Potter,” Snape said, with more patience than Snape ever showed to any child who was not a Slytherin, “I see three empty chairs at this table. Please sit in one of them.”

Potter murmured lowly, “The Dursleys don’t like me sitting at the table when anyone else is in the kitchen.” But then he sat down in the chair at the end of the table, to Snape’s right.

Now the boy’s voice was cheerful again: “In first year, you saved my mum from getting a zero in a Potions class. I thought you’d like to read what Lily wrote about that. This was when Lily called you ‘My friend, the grumpy Potions genius.’ ”

Petunia, meanwhile, had been leaning against the cooker, waiting for the teakettle to boil. Now she walked over to the table. “Lily kept a diary about Hogwarts?” Petunia bent down, and her hands reached for the book—

“No!” Potter yelled, and the pink diary flew off the table and into Potter’s hands. “This is mine, Aunt Petunia! No way will I let you bin it, or toss it in the fireplace and burn it! You don’t touch anything of Mum’s, you hear me?”

Snape was shocked. This ridiculously dressed, undersized almost-eleven-year-old now looked dangerous.

“I just wanted to see her handwriting again,” Petunia said lowly.

“I just wanted a family who would love me,” Potter snapped. “We don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Petunia glared at Potter, and Snape was sure that Tuney was about to do something nasty.

“Accidental-magic Summoning,” Snape said, trying to calm the other two people down. “You are definitely a wizard, Mr Potter, and you deserve your letter.” Snape tapped a finger on the boy’s Hogwarts letter—

—then he noticed the words that his finger was partially covering. “Your address, Mr Potter, is ‘the Cupboard under the Stairs’?”

At the moment, Petunia was pouring water into the china teapot, but now she spun round and said angrily, “Boy, don’t you answer that!”

The boy defiantly told Snape, “The cupboard under the stairs has been my bedroom from November 1981 till a few hours ago, when that Hogwarts letter came. I’d love to show you the cupboard, but...”

Petunia said triumphantly, “It’s locked, unfortunately.”

Potter smiled then—a smile that would fit perfectly on the face of Snape’s godson Draco. As Potter tapped the diary, he said, “Aloha-mora is a first-year unlocking spell, right?”

“Alohom*ora,” Snape corrected, then he stood up from the table. Whilst Snape’s eyes bored into Petunia’s, Snape said, “Mr Potter, please show me the cupboard.”

Petunia’s face, Snape was pleased to note, was chalk-white.

On the kitchen-side of the stairs, under the stairs was another triangular wall. This triangular wall included a cupboard door and more (unmoving) family photographs. Again, none of the photographs showed Potter. The cupboard door had two locks on the outside.

Snape pointed his wand. “Alohom*ora.”

Click-click.

Snape was a tall man, and so he had some difficulty in crawling into the cupboard under the stairs. When Snape had backed out and had stood up, he began magically cleaning himself. As he did, he said, “Mr Potter, please explain why your clothes do not fit and your shoes are long past needing replacement.”

Snape added, whilst glaring at Petunia, “When Petunia, Lily and I were children, Petunia used to sneer at my clothes. Yet this same Petunia, Mr Potter, has you looking worse than ever I was dressed.”

Potter answered, “These are my cousin’s clothes. He’s taller than me, and he’s fat. My uncle and aunt have never bought new clothes for me, not once.”

Petunia said, “That’s not true! We regularly had to buy clothes for you until you were five years old. But after that? Freaks”—now Petunia was glaring at Snape—“don’t deserve new things.”

Snape asked lowly, “I suppose Lily was a ‘freak’ too?”

“Yes, she was.”

“And yet, when Lily received her Hogwarts letter, Tuney, you wrote the headmaster and asked whether you also could attend Hogwarts. I gather that being surrounded by several hundred ‘freaks’ did not bother you when you were thirteen. We magicals only started to bother your fine Muggle sensibilities when the headmaster turned you down.”

“Your tea is getting cold,” Petunia replied.

No sooner had Petunia, Potter and Snape returned to the kitchen table but Snape heard the slam of the front door, followed by two boys’ voices.

“Bloody hell,” Potter muttered, “Dudley’s home. And he’s brought Piers Polkiss with him.”

****

Two boys walked into the kitchen then, each about Potter’s age. One boy was scrawny, and had a face like a rat; Snape was reminded of Pettigrew as a first-year. The other boy was shaped like a poorly-rolled marijuana cigarette; no boy this young should be this fat, Snape decided.

The rat-faced boy said, “Oi, Dudley, is your cousin allowed to sit down at the table with normal people?”

The obese boy, who was—no surprise—walking towards the refrigerator, looked at Potter and yelled, “Freak! Get out of the kitchen unless you’re working! You know the rules.”

No way would Snape allow Muggles to disrespect a wizard—even if the wizard was James Potter’s son. Snape immediately sent a Stupefy at the rat-faced boy, to knock him out. Then Snape turned his wand on the freezer door—

The freezer door, all by itself, opened with enough force to knock a bludger into the opposite wall of the kitchen.

Except that the freezer door did not hit a bludger. The freezer door—

WHAM!

—hit the fat boy’s nose and face, and knocked him to the floor. The boy screamed in pain.

“Ma! My nose hurts! And it’s bleeding!”

Petunia shot out of her chair, clearly intending to comfort the fat lump—but Snape was faster. Within two seconds, Snape stood astride the boy; scowling Snape’s wand was pointed at the fearful, fat face.

Most people, no matter whether magical or Muggle, were sensible enough to keep quiet when they were helpless and when an angry wizard was pointing a wand at them. But how did Petunia’s spawn react? “You hurt me! You bullied me!”

Snape replied, “The downside of picking on people who are smaller than you, is that you have no right to complain when someone bigger than you turns the tables. Apologise to Harry, and I will heal your broken nose.”

“You’d better, ’cause it was you who broke it in the first place!”

“I do not hear an apology. I hear whingeing and entitlement from a piggy boy. Perhaps I should give you a pig’s tail as well as a broken nose, piggy boy.”

Dudley looked at Petunia and asked, “Can he do that, Ma? Can he make that happen?”

Petunia bit her lip. “Your Aunt Lily gave someone donkey ears, her last two years in school, so I suppose he could.”

Dudley’s lower face and shirt were covered with blood when he stood and faced Harry. “I’m sorry I called you a freak, Harry.”

Harry replied, “I’m sorry I laughed when the freezer door knocked you down. Even though it was funny.”

Snape chided, “Mr Potter, you are not helping here.”

In the end, the rat-faced boy was Rennervated, then immediately was hit with a Confundus Charm. Snape told the rat-faced boy to wait for Dudley outside the house, and the dazed boy obeyed. Petunia watched in horror.

Dudley the fat boy was not Imperiused, Confundused, or otherwise mind-controlled. But after his nose was instantly healed and all of the blood was cleaned from his face and clothing, he agreed to Petunia’s suggestion that he immediately leave the house and not return for two hours.

When the Dursley house again had only three people in it, Potter looked at Snape admiringly. “That was brilliant.”

Black-dressed Snape shrugged. “I found his lack of respect disturbing.”

Snape looked over at Petunia and said, “Magical school will not make Mr Potter become magical when he is nonmagical. No, magical school will keep Mr Potter from accidentally killing you when you anger him, and he has good reason to be angry with you.”

“The freak wouldn’t dare hurt us,” declared Petunia. “He knows what would happen to him if he did!”

“Do not be a dunderhead, Tuney. If you do not send Mr Potter to Hogwarts, it is obvious that all three of you Dursleys will be dead soon.”

Petunia’s face turned white.

Potter, who had been silent for the last two minutes, now spoke up: “I’ll go to magical school, you bet; I want gone from the Dursleys. Manchester Magical Academy? We’ll see. But Hogwarts? No bloody way.”

****

Snape told Potter, “The headmaster informs me that your parents paid for your entire Hogwarts education before your first birthday.”

Potter shrugged. “I hope I can ask for the money back. If not, that’s how the mop flops.”

Snape tried a new argument: “Hogwarts School is the best magical school in the world.”

Potter gave Snape a long look. “Don’t be a dunderhead. Though it’s nice that you’re showing your loyalty—Whatzername Hufflepuff would be pleased.”

Snape started to speak, but Potter overrode him. “Even if Hogwarts were the best, I refuse to go there whilst Dumbledore runs the school. Aunt Petunia, would you please find the letter that Dumbledore left in my basket, so that Professor Snape can read the letter?”

Petunia stood up from the kitchen table. “I’ll need to run upstairs then. I’ll be back soon.” She hurried out of the kitchen.

As soon as Petunia’s feet were making sounds on the stairs, Potter growled, “The Dursleys have worked me like a Caribbean sugar-plantation slave since I was four—food prep, cooking at the hot cooker, washing dishes, hoovering, and gardening in the summer sun. I’m given five minutes to shower. They starve me. Dudley hits me; my uncle hits me hard enough to break bones. I never get new clothes. Meanwhile, the great Dumbledore has never come here and checked up on me, not once. You hear me? In ten years, not once. Nobody in the Surrey government or the MOM government has checked on me either. I think Dumbledore paid them off, or magicked them, or something.”

By now, Petunia was standing in the kitchen doorway, with a parchment-envelope letter in her hand. Harry, noticing where Snape’s eyes were looking, turned in his chair and saw his silent aunt.

Potter said, “Professor Snape, you say you’re so worried about me killing my relatives—not my family, my relatives—with magic I can’t control? It’s at least just as likely that one of them will kill me. Really, I’ve been lucky up till now. And I’m to believe that wise Dumbledore decided that none of my father’s relatives would make a good guardian for me? Didn’t my parents have wills?”

****

Seconds later

All three people again were sitting at the kitchen table. Petunia had placed on the table the parchment envelope, whose entire address was “Mrs Petunia Dursley née Evans.” The envelope had no other address, and no stamp.

Snape removed from the envelope, and unfolded, a two-foot-length parchment.

The parchment-letter read—

2nd November, 1981

Dear Mrs Dursley,

I am saddened to inform you that your sister, Lily Potter, and her husband, James Potter, both were killed by the evil wizard Voldemort.

Somehow Harry Potter survived Voldemort’s attempt to kill the child, and somehow Voldemort’s body disappeared just after his attempt to kill Harry. Whatever happened between the evil wizard and the toddler wizard gave Harry the lightning-bolt scar you see on his forehead.

For defeating Voldemort, your fifteen-month-old nephew is a hero in the Wizarding World like no other.

I am concerned that if Harry were raised in the Wizarding World, being hailed as a hero from toddlerhood would make the boy conceited and shallow. This is why I am placing Harry with you, Petunia, rather than with any of his magical relatives: In the nonmagical world, nobody has heard of either Lord Voldemort or Harry Potter.

Your sister’s remains were found next to Harry’s crib, and it is clear that she sacrificed her life to save his. Besides giving you a reason to take pride in Lily, her sacrifice has magical effects.

To protect Harry from Voldemort’s evil followers, and to protect you and your family, I have erected wards (magical walls) round your house. Because Lily sacrificed her life for her son, blood-wards that protect Lily’s son have extra magical power. The blood-wards protect your house only so long as Harry lives with you and he is younger than seventeen. Voldemort’s followers are vicious, and they will torture you, then kill you, if they can get inside your house, so it would be wise not to negate the blood-wards.

It is natural to resent being forced to spend both time and money to raise a child that is not yours by birth. Perhaps you still resent the Wizarding World itself, which beautiful Lily could join but you could not. But I ask you to put aside your resentments and to raise Harry as though he were your own child. Harry needs you, Petunia, and wizards and witches throughout Britain need Harry, though I regret that I may not explain why to you.

Yours truly, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Potter commented, “Want to know what leapt out at me when I read this letter the first time? Dumbledore wrote what seems to say ‘Don’t resent this boy who I’m leaving on your doorstep.’ But then he turns about and reminds Aunt Petunia of all the reasons that she’d want to resent me. I’ve been treated worse, for the past ten years, than if Dumbledore had written only ‘Your sister and her husband are dead. This is their son. Now he’s yours. Good luck.’ ”

Snape nodded in agreement. The letter was typical manipulative Dumbledore: kind and grandfatherly on the surface, but worded to ensure that Petunia mistreated Harry, whilst Petunia was convinced that mistreating Harry was her own idea.

Then Snape felt a magical tingle. He pulled out his wand and ran diagnostics over the letter. Then he magically zapped the letter.

Petunia and Potter were looking at Snape curiously. Snape explained to them, “The headmaster put Compulsion Charms on the letter. Anyone named Dursley who touched the letter would react hatefully to anyone named Potter. I have now cancelled those compulsions.”

Potter snarled, “And you want me to spend the next seven years in a school that’s run by this man?”

Then he said to Snape, “The letter said that in November of 1981, I was a big hero. Am I still a big hero to wizards in 1991? Hopefully not.”

Great, Snape thought. The boy is, to my shock, not arrogant, but I might be the person to make him so.

****

Snape stared into the boy’s eyes. “Potter, you’re known as ‘the Boy Who Lived’ in the magical world.”

“ ‘The Boy Who Lived’? What does this mean?”

“You’re a marvel because somehow you survived the Killing Curse, which nobody else has ever done; and you’re a hero because you killed the Dark Lord who everyone feared was unstoppable. Your scar and your glasses are famous.”

The boy smirked then, but did not explain why.

“The boy is still considered a hero?” Petunia asked, her voice sceptical.

Potter said, “Well, well. Manchester Magical Academy sure didn’t mention any ‘Boy Who Lived’ nonsense.”

Then Potter looked at Snape and asked, “This evil wizard, he killed lots of magical people? So he’s killed some of my magical relatives, besides my parents?”

“He indeed killed many magical people. I am sure some of them were related to you.”

“But if I magically ended this magical war as a baby, then some of my magical relatives must have lived through the end of the war, right? Magical aunts and uncles of mine, magical cousins. Again I ask: When my parents were killed, why wasn’t I put with some of them? Why am I stuck here in Dursleyton?”

Snape mentally cursed Dumbledore—Potter’s placement with the Dursleys was beginning to smell more and more like one of the headmaster’s secretive plots. Aloud, Snape said, “I cannot answer your questions, nor can I guess.”

Then Snape frowned. “Unless...”

Potter frowned too. “Unless what?”

“When Muggle-born students go to Hogwarts, their Muggle parents are considered incompetent to make decisions about their child in the magical world. So each Muggle-born student is assigned a magical guardian—normally, the child’s Head of House. Wizard-raised students don’t need this. You are Muggle-raised, Mr Potter, so need to have a magical guardian appointed for you when you begin magical school; but you also are the Boy Who Lived, famous hero of Wizarding Britain. It would not surprise me if the headmaster pulled strings to be named your magical guardian back in 1981.”

Potter scowled. “Can I get this changed? Can I protest this? Can I tell a judge, ‘I want Aunt Almira to be my magical guardian’? Or you, Professor Snape?”

Petunia choked. “You’d want him?”

Snape was stunned (and flattered) that Potter would want him as his magical guardian. Aloud, Snape replied, “Alas, I suspect it would be politically impossible. Albus Dumbledore is himself a hero, as the wizard who defeated Gellert Grindelwald, who is another evil wizard. I suspect that if you asked to drop Dumbledore for cause as your magical guardian, the response would be like if you claimed Winston Churchill kicked your puppy—even if you had proof, nobody would want to see it.”

Potter scowled again. “I still don’t see it. If I’m the Boy Who Lived, this famous magic child, why aren’t my magical relatives trying to shove Dumbledore aside and grab me themselves? Even my twenty-third cousin Bertha?”

****

A minute later

Snape had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, as he stared at Lily’s pink diary. At last he asked Potter, “How much time does that cover, Lily’s diary?”

Harry answered, “Just one year, but I found seven of them. But this one, Mum’s first year, is the only one I’ve read so far.”

“So you have Lily’s diary for her fifth year, but you haven’t read it yet.”

Potter asked, “Is there some reason I should read it?”

Snape squirmed. “Mr Potter, one day in fifth year, your father and his friends were pranking me. I was ashamed and embarrassed, because I was helpless to stop it. Lily yelled at the pranksters, demanding that they stop. I was embarrassed, but this is no excuse. I said something enormously stupid to Lily, something I regret to this day. But in ten seconds, I threw away the friendship of my first friend. Forever.”

“Blimey,” Potter murmured.

“Then four years later, I did something even more gormless, the result of which was that your parents died, one and a half years after that. When you wrote your letter to Professor McGonagall, you referred to me as your mother’s friend, but I have proven myself to be no friend of hers at all. Now I apologise to you, Lily’s son. I am bitterly sorry and regretful for the harm I have caused your mother.”

Potter went silent then, and stayed silent awhile. Amazingly, Petunia stayed silent too.

Then Potter asked, “Why did Mum yell at Dad and his friends?”

“She felt they were bullying me.”

“Was she right? Were those boys bullying you? Or were they paying you back for you bullying one of them?”

“I was not a bully then,” Snape replied.

“But are you a bully now? Now that you’re a professor?”

Snape cursed himself for his slip. Grudgingly he admitted, “Many students at Hogwarts feel I bully them.”

“What would Mum say? If Mum from fifth year could watch you teach class, would she say you were a great teacher? Or would she say you were a bully, just like Dad and his friends were bullies?”

Snape spoke lowly: “Lily would say I was a bully.”

“And I don’t like bullies,” Potter said. He broke his stare-down with Snape to look at the ceiling, threw himself back in his chair and sighed.

Snape felt shame. How many times during the past ten years had Minerva said to him, “My Lions tell me you’re bullying them in Potions class. Stop it”? Yet every time, Snape had stood there, scowling and unmoved, and with excuses in hand.

But the mental picture of Snape snarling at a frightened student in Potions class, “Ten points from Gryffindor for breathing too hard,” only to look up into the angry malachite eyes of sixteen-year-old Lily Evans—Snape had no excuses to make.

“I promise I will stop bullying students in my classes,” Snape now said to Potter and to Petunia. He meant it.

Both Potter and Petunia stared at Snape.

Potter then said, “Professor Snape, if you’ll make a promise to stop bullying students so that the promise means something, it’s not just words like a New Year’s resolution, and if you’ll be my ally against Dumbledore, then I’ll go to Hogwarts. Otherwise I’ll find a different magical school.”

Snape pointed his wand at the ceiling; he swore on his magic that from now on, he would stop bullying students. Then Snape made another vow on his magic that Harry Potter could count on the help of Severus Tobias Snape during any conflict with Albus Dumbledore, even when Dumbledore threatened to sack Snape.

Petunia looked surprised as Snape gave his two vows. But oddly, the reaction of Potter was stronger: Potter was openmouthed and staring.

****

That night, in Harry’s bed

Harry smiled to himself. He was sure that he had convinced Severus Snape that Harry Potter was merely a diary-informed ten-year-old who was quite cheesed off about his life at the moment, not a time-travelled seventeen-year-old who had lived through the Second Voldemort War. Harry believed that neither Snape nor Aunt Petunia suspected that Harry had been playing a part today.

But not all of today had followed a script. Once today, Harry had been truly surprised: Snape repenting of his cruel and bullying teaching-methods had shocked the time-travelled boy.

But even with this surprise, today Harry had achieved what he had wanted to achieve—and more. Now Snape was sure that Harry, only quite reluctantly, had agreed to attend Hogwarts, and Snape was sure that Harry had agreed only after Snape had vowed to make a major change in his life and had allied himself with Harry against Dumbledore. Little did Snape know that because Hermione Granger was about to attend Hogwarts, Harry learning magic at Hogwarts actually was a sure thing.

Tomorrow Harry, chaperoned by Snape, would make his second “first trip to Diagon Alley.” Harry hoped he would not be bored.

Chapter 6: Harry “Meets” Hermione

Chapter Text

The next morning (Thursday, 25th July)

When Snape had come to pick Harry up from his relatives’ house, Snape had been wearing black jeans and a black “Rolling Stones” t-shirt. The plan for the day, eventually, was for Snape and Harry to go to Diagon Alley and to buy Harry’s school supplies. But that shopping trip would come later, Snape announced.

The immediate task, so Snape informed Harry, was that Harry would buy Muggle clothes that were new and that fit, from Muggle shops. Snape explained his thinking: “When we go to Diagon Alley, wizards and witches will take their first look at the Boy Who Lived. It would embarrass us both if you looked like a street urchin. As the saying goes, ‘You never get a second chance to make a first impression.’ ”

Harry laughed. “You want me to dress up to impress people? That sounds cunning.”

Snape then reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wallet. Seconds later, he announced, “I have £215 in my wallet to spend on your Muggle clothing. Later on, when we get to Gringotts...” Snape looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

“Gringotts is the goblin bank, in Diagon Alley somewhere,” Harry said.

“Very good. When we get to Gringotts, whatever I have spent on your Muggle clothing, I expect you to repay me in galleons, out of your trust vault. The conversion is, one galleon is the same as five pounds sterling.”

Harry said, “So if we spend all the notes in your wallet, I’ll need to pay you back ... erm, don’t tell me, don’t tell me! Forty-three galleons.”

Snape gave Harry no smile, but Harry did rate a nod.

Harry asked, “To buy my Muggle clothes, where are we going, and how will we get there?”

The “where” turned out to be the Little Whinging Shopping Centre. The “how” turned out to be the Knight Bus. Snape generously covered the twenty-two-sickles (£6.47) charge; no need for Harry to pay Snape back.

At the shopping centre, Harry eventually bought a pair of black dress shoes; a pair of black trainers; three pairs of dress slacks in different colours; three pairs of jeans, in blue and black; four casual shirts, two of which were green; three dress shirts, one of which was green; socks, both dress and casual; and underwear.

The oddest part of the shopping trip was that Snape had to teach Harry how to recognise whether clothing fit or not. Not since Harry had been a toddler had anyone tried to dress Harry in properly fitting clothes!

At the end of Harry’s time at Little Whinging Shopping Centre, Professor Snape only had seventeen pounds left in his wallet. Meanwhile, Harry was grinning, because every stitch of clothing that Harry had walked out of the Privet Drive house wearing, every one of Dudley’s castoffs, now was shoved down a rubbish bin.

****

Diagon Alley

The professor and the boy just had stepped past the Leaky Cauldron’s archway of bricks, and now were in Diagon Alley proper. Snape transfigured his black casual Muggle clothes into the black wizard robes, with fifty thousand black buttons, that Harry was used to seeing Snape wear.

“That’s cool that you can do that,” pretending-to-be-a-kid Harry said to Snape, “but why would you want to?”

Snape did not tell Harry the truth, that wizards often were rude to anyone dressed Muggle. Instead, Snape answered, “Because I am a Hogwarts professor, magicals in Diagon Alley expect me to dress this way.”

Harry noticed, during the walk from the Leaky Cauldron to Gringotts, that he got a few disapproving looks from passersby because he was dressed Muggle. So what? At least Harry, unlike his first trip to Diagon Alley in his previous lifetime, was not dressed like a Muggle ragamuffin.

Another thing that was different from the previous lifetime—quite different, in fact: With Harry not wearing glasses and showing no forehead scar, not one person in Diagon Alley recognised Harry Potter as Harry Potter.

****

In Gringotts

The first thing that Harry did in Gringotts, supposedly following Snape’s advice, was to buy a bottomless, feather-light magical bag to put coins in.

Harry had to work hard to act amazed when he was first shown his trust vault, which contained mounds of gold, silver and bronze coins. Needless to say, it was no problem at all to find forty galleons so that Harry could repay Snape for buying Harry’s Muggle clothes.

It was no surprise to Snape and to the goblin cart driver when Harry dumped many galleons into the bag, so he could buy school supplies and school robes today—

—but Harry also, with no explanation, dropped many sickles into the bag.

Why the sickles? With the Knight Bus charging eleven sickles a trip, Harry now could take many trips about Britain without drawing the attention that an Apparating eleven-year-old would draw, and without Harry needing to ask an adult to magically take Harry someplace.

Harry had plans for the time between now and 1st September; and those plans would be helped greatly if Dumbledore thought that Harry was stuck at Privet Drive, when nothing could be further from the truth.

The most important of Harry’s upcoming secret plans: On 31st July, Harry’s eleventh birthday, Harry intended to return to Gringotts.

****

As Harry and Snape were walking down the steps of Gringotts, Harry held out his hand. “My Gringotts key, please.”

Snape said, “The headmaster wishes the key to be returned to him. Do I wish to anger the headmaster, or to anger the goblins?” Snape then stopped walking, turned to Harry, bowed and, with great pomp, held out the key.

After Snape ended his bow, Harry saw that the Potions Master’s face showed a tiny smile.

****

Once Harry had left Gringotts, the magical shopping trip began for Harry (and for Snape). First stop: buying Harry’s wand.

At Ollivander’s wand shop, Harry, just like in his previous lifetime, was shunned by the first twenty or so wands that he waved. Eventually Mr Ollivander was obliged to fetch dusty wand-boxes from the back of his shop. Soon after this, Harry was handed a wand that was made of “holly wood with a phoenix feather as its core.” In Harry’s hand, the wand felt burning hot.

Harry waved the wand.

The wand exploded. A tiny wand-chunk hit Harry’s left cheek, hard enough to sting.

Snape asked in droll tones, “Must you continue to be different, Mr Potter?”

Thankfully, Harry found a suitable wand soon afterwards: elder wood and thestral heartstring, eleven inches. This wand had been made not by Garrick Ollivander, the old man who owned the wand shop, but by Pliny Ollivander.

“What does it mean,” Snape asked Mr Ollivander, “that this unique wand is a match to Mr Potter?”

“It means that Mr Potter has a great task to accomplish. A task that involves death. A task that only he can achieve,” the wandmaster replied.

Snape looked sharply at Mr Ollivander.

Mr Ollivander then looked at Harry. “I hope that when the time comes, you will overcome the challenge you face.”

“So do I,” said the time-travelled boy.

“Else you shall die untimely,” Ollivander said sombrely.

After Harry and Snape left the wand shop, Snape asked, “Your birthday, Mr Potter, is it at the end of July or at the beginning of August?”

Trying to keep his voice casual, Harry replied, “It’s 31st July. The last day of this month.” Snape has figured it out, Harry thought.

Snape said, “I know something that you urgently need to hear, Mr Potter, but not for some hours yet. I need to choose my words carefully.”

****

At Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, Harry bought four black school robes, not three as Hogwarts required. Furthermore, Harry paid extra, for better material for his school robes and for one year’s worth of Resizing Charm. Harry also bought a formal robe with Resizing Charm.

At the trunk shop, Harry went all out. He bought the shop’s most expensive trunk, which had enough security spells on it that only a team of goblin cursebreakers could open his trunk. Snape, despite a raised eyebrow, did not ask why Harry wanted such a secure trunk. Nor did Harry tell Snape his reason: that if Harry wound up sharing a dorm room with Ron Weasley, no way was Ron going to break into Harry’s school trunk!

At Eeylops Owl Emporium, Harry bought a female snowy owl. Harry told Snape that he was naming the beautiful bird “Hedwig.”

The time soon came when Harry had only two shopping stops left to make: at Flourish and Blotts, the bookshop; and at the apothecary.

****

In Flourish and Blotts

As soon as Harry and Snape walked into the bookshop, Snape pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to Harry. “The magical quill that writes letters to prospective Hogwarts students, has no instructions for someone from a wizarding family who is Muggle-raised. The letter that is sent to Muggle-borns suggests certain books to buy so that those children can fit into this world. I suggest that you buy all the extra recommended books, and read them all, plus every book on wizarding-world etiquette that you can find. The money you spend today will save you from embarrassment in the future. Wizard-raised people, especially children, will not spare your feelings when you act Muggle.”

Harry was touched by Snape’s thoughtfulness, and spoke heartfelt thanks. Snape looked like he did not know how to accept thanks that were not part of some calculated scheme.

With Snape’s additional list in pocket, Harry stepped forwards to begin his bookbuying.

Ten feet inside the front doors was a special display of Harry Potter books. A sign that floated above the books read, “The Boy Who Lived starts Hogwarts this year!”

The real Harry Potter picked up one of the books on offer, Harry Potter and the Terrible Trolls by Roy Locke. What disturbed Harry greatly was that the boy on the cover wore round, black glasses (like what Harry had worn, until yesterday), and had a lightning-bolt scar on the right side of his forehead (like what had defaced Harry’s forehead until yesterday). The boy on the cover, like Harry himself, had messy black hair and bright-green eyes.

On page 2 of Terrible Trolls, the time-travelled Harry Potter read that the Harry Potter in the book lived in a “blue palace” with a distant relative and his wife, “George and Rowena Potter.” Disgusted Harry Potter (the real one) closed the book with a bang and put it back.

****

Harry found the textbooks that had been listed on page 2 of his Hogwarts letter, and Snape used his wand to pull the books off the shelves, then to move the selected books into the shopping basket that Snape carried.

Whilst shopping, Harry caught a glimpse of a well-dressed Muggle man who was carrying his own shopping basket, and Harry assumed that this man had been assigned pack-mule duty just like Snape. Harry figured that the man was Justin Finch-Fletchley’s father or a second-year student’s father.

In the “Herbology and Potions” section of the bookshop, Snape had just pulled One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and Magical Drafts and Potions from their respective shelves, and had placed those two books in the shopping basket. Snape asked Harry, “Are you willing to spend more money, in return for not seeming like a dunderhead?”

“You see other books that I should buy? Sure, drop ’em in.”

Snape wanded two more books, A Beginner’s Guide to Potions and Basic Potion Preparation, off a shelf and into the basket.

A minute later, the last book on the Required list for wizard-raised children, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, dropped itself into the shopping basket.

As Harry folded up the list of required books and other things to bring to Hogwarts, he said, “I still need to buy a cauldron and brass scales. I’ll need your help with that.”

Snape nodded. “After here we go to the apothecary, then home.”

Harry pulled out the other list, the one that Snape had given him when they had entered the store. “Where would I find these books written for Muggle-borns?”

“In the ‘Muggles and Muggle-borns’ section. Follow me.”

****

Harry and Snape turned a corner, and Harry gasped. Standing in front of Harry was the well-remembered bushy-haired, eleven-year-old girl of last lifetime’s firstie train. Now she seemingly had been hit by a double-strength Cheering Charm. Hermione was chattering to the well-dressed Muggle man whom Harry had spotted carrying a shopping basket. Hermione had a book in her left hand, and she was waving the book about, like a conductor’s baton.

Harry wanted to laugh in delight. At the moment, Hermione was acting so Hermione-ish!

“—doesn’t teach maths, science or nonmagical history, and that’s sad, but when I go to school here, I’ll learn so many things I could never learn back in Crawley! How to brew healing potions, and make light without a candle or a torch, and how to transfigure rubbish into roses. Dad, I can’t wait! Oh, and Harry Potter is coming to school this year—I hope I meet him!”

In the shopping basket that Hermione’s father was carrying, Harry was dismayed to notice that the top book was Harry Potter and the Scary Inferi.

Harry reached into the Granger shopping basket, grabbed the Scary Inferi book, and dropped it onto a nearby chair. “Save your money. This book is nothing but lies.”

Both Grangers stared at Harry in shock. Then Hermione picked up the Scary Inferi book and threw it back into her shopping basket.

“How can you say such rubbish?” Hermione demanded of Harry, her chocolate-brown eyes flashing. “If what Mr Locke wrote wasn’t true, they wouldn’t have printed his book!”

Harry said, “I know this Harry Potter book is lies because I’m Harry Potter.”

“No you’re not!” Hermione said. “You’re not wearing glasses. And”—the hand that wasn’t holding a book, now shot forward to pull Harry’s bangs up—“you don’t have a lightning-bolt scar on your forehead either.”

“He doesn’t?” Snape said. He peered at Harry’s forehead. “Indeed you do not, Mr Potter. How did this happen?”

Harry shrugged. “I got the scar ten years ago. It faded. These things happen.” Harry thought, I’m not about to tell Snape that I magically erased the scar myself, only hours before he visited me.

Meanwhile, Hermione was interrogating Snape: “You called him ‘Mr Potter.’ Why did you call him that?”

“Easy, professor,” Harry warned. Harry knew well that Snape was quite able to verbally eviscerate young children, and Harry did not want Snape tongue-lashing Hermione.

Hermione’s anger vanished instantly. She asked Snape, “You’re a professor at Hogwarts?” in a fangirl voice.

Snape replied, “I shall answer your questions in reverse order. I am Severus Snape, and I teach all seven years of Potions at Hogwarts, besides doing work as a Potions Master. When time permits, I also perform original research in potions. How do I know Mr Potter? I visited him yesterday at the house where he lives with his Muggle aunt and her Muggle family. I knew Mr Potter’s aunt and his mother when both girls and I were children.”

Hermione looked confused. She asked Harry, “You live with your mum’s sister? Not your sixth-cousin George?”

Harry said, “I told you the book was a lie.”

Hermione looked utterly shocked, gobsmacked and flabbergasted at the idea that a book could lie.

Snape said, “However, the boy on the cover has messy black hair, like the real Mr Potter and like his father; and the boy on the cover has bright green eyes like Mr Potter and his mother. I do not like the implications of this.”

Harry thought, Neither do I. Dumbledore has no problem sending wizards and witches to Little Whinging to see what I look like, but sending magical people to check on whether I’m treated well by my relatives? He can’t be bothered.

****

Hermione, it turned out, had bought her school supplies, textbooks and Hogwarts: A History last September—almost a year ago. Hermione and her pack-mule father had made a second trip to Flourish and Blotts last December, to buy more books. The two Grangers had made a third trip to Flourish and Blotts a month ago, the first Sunday after summer holidays had begun for Hermione. What Harry and Snape had stumbled upon was Hermione’s fourth trip to Flourish and Blotts.

Snape began to pull all the books on the “Supplemental Reading for Muggle-Borns” list, plus two books on wizarding etiquette, off shelves and dropped them into the shopping basket he carried. As Snape was magicking the books (and as Dr Granger was staring), Snape said to Harry, “Mr Potter, we need to finish up here. After the apothecary, I need to get you home, then the headmaster and I need to have,” he paused, “a conversation.”

Of course Hermione then asked Snape if there were any Potions books she should buy, besides the one required textbook. When Snape gave his two recommendations, Hermione’s eyes lit up. Clearly she was eager now to drag her father to the “Herbology and Potions” section of the bookshop, to buy the two extra books.

But before she did this, she looked nervously at Harry and said, “I hope I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express, Harry. I’m sorry I called you an impostor.”

Harry smiled at her. “If I get there first, you come find me. If you get there first, I’ll come find you. Either way, then I’ll get to know your name.”

“My name? You want to know my name?”

“Well, sure! How can we be friends if I don’t know your name?”

“You want to be friends with me?”

Dr Granger said, “Her name is Hermione”—he pronounced the name slowly, enunciating clearly—“Granger. G-R-A-N-G-E-R. Hermione’s brain gets stuck sometimes.”

Harry said, “Glad to meet you, Hermione Granger my friend.” The girl and the time-traveller shook hands. “You heard Professor Snape, I need to go. See you on the train!”

Hermione was grinning. “Pleased to meet you, Professor Snape. I’m looking forward to Potions class. Goodbye, Harry Potter my friend.”

Harry said, “Look for my owl, I’ll write you soon.”

Harry was grinning as he and Snape walked towards the cashier to pay for Harry’s books. Whether he and Hermione were soulmates or not, the fact remained that in the other timeline, Hermione was the first person to do him a kindness after his parents died: she had repaired his glasses. Now Harry repaid that kindness with a kindness of his own: giving the formerly friendless girl his friendship, three months early.

****

Fifteen minutes later

After Harry and Snape walked out of the apothecary shop, Snape Disillusioned himself and Harry, then Snape Side-Along Apparated Harry to the park near Number 4, Privet Drive.

But before Snape ended their almost-invisibility and they walked back to Harry’s relatives’ house, Snape added the Muffle Charm to their Disillusionment.

Snape then told Harry the Prophecy—or rather, as much of the Prophecy as Snape knew: “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...”

Then Snape said, “I do not know the rest of the prophecy. I do not know whether the prophecy is fulfilled or is still active, though Mr Ollivander’s words imply that the prophecy still is in play. I believe that the headmaster believes the Dark Lord still is alive, though Dumbledore has not outright told me this—the headmaster is secretive. But the subject of the prophecy, ‘the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’? It is you, Harry Potter. I am sure of this.”

Harry paused, seemingly to think, then said, “I’ve started to read Mum’s second-year diary. She mentioned a place where prophecies are stored, in little glass balls, but she didn’t write down where the place was. Do you know?”

“The prophecies-room is part of the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic building.”

“Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic. Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic. Got it.”

“Would you like me to take you there, then wait outside?”

“Thank you but no, Professor Snape. You’ve already helped me more than enough. Somehow I’ll figure out a way to get there.” Harry spoke not even a hint about riding a loud, purple, magical bus.

Chapter 7: Hedwig Delivers to Hermione

Chapter Text

7:30 p.m., Thursday, 25th July
Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

Snape and Harry entered the Dursleys’ house and went straight upstairs to Harry’s bedroom. Snape unloaded from his pockets many teeny-tiny shopping bags, both Muggle and from Diagon Alley; Snape then enlarged these shopping bags to normal size. When the enlarging was done, nobody could see the top bedsheet on Harry’s bed, because of all the clothing, books and other things (such as an empty owl cage) laying atop the bed.

Harry thanked Snape for his help, then walked Snape downstairs to the front door.

Snape gave Aunt Petunia a long look but said nothing. Then Snape opened the front door and walked out.

Immediately Uncle Vernon waddled up to Harry and demanded, “You bought freaky things today, boy. Where did you get the money?”

Harry replied coolly, “From the Tooth Fairy. We magicals stick together.”

Harry walked upstairs then, whilst expecting an attack from behind. None came.

Once Harry was back in his bedroom, he used Haroldus’s wand to magically lock his door. Then Harry had the happy problem of putting his new purchases away. Most of his purchases went into his super-secure trunk.

Once everything was put where it should be, Harry quietly said, “Greyclay.” Pop—the Potter Manor head house-elf appeared.

Harry told Greyclay to bring the Invisibility Cloak from Potter Manor. Then Harry stored the Invisibility Cloak in his super-duper student trunk.

After Harry put away the Invisibility Cloak, he looked at his snowy owl and said, “Hedwig, let’s give you something to do.”

Harry started a message to Hermione.

****

7:30 p.m., at Hogwarts SOW&W

The headmaster let Snape walk through the front gate of the castle.

The headmaster let Snape walk across the courtyard and enter the Great Hall.

The headmaster let Snape walk through the corridor to the professors’ quarters and enter his own apartment.

Snape had asked Swotty, a Hogwarts house-elf, to bring him dinner in his sitting room. Pop—a tray of hot food appeared. Snape was bringing his first forkful of food to his mouth when pop, Wrinkly the head Hogwarts house-elf appeared. “Professor Snapey,” said Wrinkly, “Beardy headmaster wants you to come to his office immediately.”

Snape sighed, and put a Stasis Charm on his tray of food.

Then Snape performed a small act of rebellion: Rather than go through the floo and appear in the headmaster’s office instantly, Snape told Wrinkly, “I shall walk to his office. I’ve been standing most of the day and my legs are stiff.”

Wrinkly nodded and popped himself gone.

****

“Ah, Severus,” the headmaster greeted Snape genially, “did you discover that Harry is much more than James Potter’s son?”

Snape spotted the attempted manipulation: Harry Potter is James Potter’s son. You hate James, so be sure to hate Harry.

Snape replied, “The boy is not Potter’s son at all, except for his hair. After the boy learnt that his father had been a bully at Hogwarts, the boy asked no more questions about James Potter.”

“Harry didn’t want to know about his father? I find this hard to believe.”

“I made it clear that I was not the person whom the boy should ask about James Potter. Now, the boy’s mother, on the other hand—Lily wrote seven diaries, one for each year at Hogwarts. Potter has read the first diary, which apparently goes into detail about Lily’s first year, and he has read part of her second year.”

Dumbledore looked ill. “Harry is reading about his mother’s entire life at Hogwarts?”

Snape thought, Ha! You cannot very well use information control to manipulate the boy when he has a trusted source of facts and opinions that you cannot stop, can you, headmaster?

Then the headmaster added with fake cheer, “Hopefully Lily wrote nothing but good things about me.”

“She probably did,” Snape replied. Not that this will help you when it comes to her son.

The headmaster now leant forwards and adopted a businesslike air. “So tell me about today’s shopping trip to Diagon Alley with Harry.”

Snape said, “Before we went to Diagon Alley, I took Potter to Little Whinging Shopping Centre—”

“A Muggle shop?”

“A group of Muggle shops. Potter desperately needed new Muggle clothes before he entered Diagon Alley—the only clothes that Potter owned till this morning were his fat cousin’s castoffs.”

The headmaster looked disbelieving.

Snape continued, “I was not about to let the wizards in Diagon Alley take their first look at Lily’s son with him looking like a nine-year-old child vagabond.”

“Severus, I’m sure Harry was exaggerating about his clothes. Playing on your sympathies. I’m sure he had nice clothes in his wardrobe before you two bought more.”

“How would you know, Albus?” Snape’s disrespect was meant to shock the bearded one. “You have not been to that house once in ten years—why do you think Potter hates you so much?”

“Hates is a strong word, Severus. Surely Harry’s feelings for me aren’t so bad.”

“Potter wrote in his letter to Minerva, ‘I hate Albus Dumbledore, even though I’ve never met him.’ Did you miss that part?”

The headmaster waved this away. “I took that sentence as showing a child being overdramatic.”

“Headmaster, you have an annoying habit. When someone tells you something that goes against your preconception, you never say, ‘Well, well. I guess I was wrong.’ No, you tell yourself that the other person is lying, or exaggerating, or mistaken or playing a prank. So why am I wasting my time now, and my food getting cold, so to speak? It is obvious that you refuse to hear what I have to say, and what Potter has to say. I am trying to warn you.”

“Severus—”

“When I agreed to visit Potter at home, you neglected to tell me that Potter’s guardians are Lily’s magic-hating sister Petunia and Petunia’s magic-hating husband. Yesterday I saw that they starved Potter, and I would swear on my magic that he has poorly-healed broken bones. Their son, who weighs twice what Potter does, is as cruel to Potter as his parents. All three Dursleys treat Potter like, in his words, ‘a Caribbean sugar-plantation slave.’ ”

“Surely, Severus, Harry—”

“And Potter blames you for all his troubles—during our conversation, he mentioned Manchester Magical Academy twice, and Potter told me that he would ‘never’ attend Hogwarts so long as you were headmaster.”

The headmaster smiled. “Yet now Harry has accepted a place in Hogwarts, so obviously you persuaded him. Good job.”

Snape shook his head. “I did not persuade him by logical arguments, because all the logical arguments I could make, said that Potter should not attend here. Nor did I bamboozle him inside a cloud of beautiful words.” Like you like to do, Albus went unsaid. “Instead, I made oaths to Potter. After I made my oaths, he agreed to come to Hogwarts.”

“What oaths?” the headmaster demanded. “What was the wording?”

“That is between him and me. You have no need to know my oaths.”

“I insist you tell me, Severus! I am Harry’s magical guardian!”

“Truly? I think not. A guardian helps the child whom he is guardian of. You have abandoned the boy to relatives who hate him on principle, then you have given Potter no help at all. The only way I see you doing the work of being Potter’s guardian, headmaster, is that you grabbed up the key to his Gringotts trust vault. Which reminds me: Potter has the key now, and he was not at all pleased that you could spend his parents’ money for the past ten years.”

“Everything I’ve done concerning Harry, I’ve done for the Greater Good. Now again, Severus, don’t be childish and balky—I insist that you tell me what oaths you made to Harry.”

Snape said, “Albus, a bit of advice: Do not tell Potter in the Great Hall, during mealtime, that you left him in a hellhole for ten years ‘for the Greater Good.’ You will not like Potter’s response, which will likely be quoted in full in the Daily Prophet. Now excuse me—I am hungry, and this meeting is pointless.”

Snape walked out of the headmaster’s office. As he descended the steps, he thought, I wonder how the headmaster would have reacted if I had told him that I told Potter part of the Prophecy?

****

Fifteen minutes later
8 p.m., at the Granger house
Crawley, West Sussex, England

Emma Granger and her daughter Hermione were in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. Whilst the clock said it was evening, the sun was still up in July.

Hermione was quite talkative and peppy tonight, even hours after she and Dan had returned from the wizard bookshop. If sugar was not all but banned from the Granger house, Emma would be convinced that Hermione was caught in a sugar rush.

Emma gathered that today Hermione had met a famous wizard boy named Harry Potter, and the two of them now were friends. Hermione had never had a friend before, poor girl.

Ta-ta-ta-ta-tap.

“What’s that sound?” Emma asked, looking about the kitchen. She was sure she had never heard this sound before. Was the refrigerator going bad?

Ta-ta-tap.

“It’s an owl!” Hermione exclaimed. “An owl is at the kitchen window.”

Whilst Hermione ran off to fetch the stepstool, Emma peered through the window that was above the sinks. Sure enough, on the other side of the glass was a fifteen-inch tall, all-white owl. But the owl was not looking at Emma, the owl’s face was tracking Hermione as the girl hurried up to the sinks, stepstool in hand.

Hermione had not spoken her plan, and her mother had not guessed the plan till too late. Hermione dropped the stepstool onto the floor next to the sinks, climbed the stepstool and, with her extra height, bent forward, unlocked the window and opened the window. The owl—

“Hermione! Why did you do that? The bird could have diseases!”

—flew to a corner of the kitchen table, then landed so that the owl was facing Emma and Hermione. The white owl stuck one leg out.

The owl was not looking at Emma, she noticed, the owl kept looking at Hermione.

Emma took a few steps towards the bird, moving her hands and arms about in (what Emma hoped was) a threatening manner. “Bad bird! Bad! Go away! Fly out the window!”

The white owl looked only briefly at Emma, and Emma interpreted the owl’s look to mean Are you on drugs or what? Then the owl’s gaze returned to Hermione, who now was fearlessly approaching the big white owl.

“Hermione, don’t! This isn’t safe!”

“Mum, I think this is a postal owl.” At Emma’s blank look, Hermione explained, “An owl that is magical and delivers letters. I think Harry Potter sent it! See, there’s a strip of paper wrapped round its leg.”

Hermione removed the elastic (the rubber band) that was stopping the rolled-up paper from unwinding, then she removed the strip of paper that was surrounding the held-up leg and unrolled the strip of paper. The owl reclaimed its leg for standing on, but made no other moves. All of the owl’s attention was on Hermione; Emma continued to be ignored.

Dan walked into the kitchen. “What’s all the excitement?” Then Dan must have noticed the open kitchen window and the big white owl on the kitchen table. “I’m guessing that when Harry Potter said ‘Look for my owl,’ this was what he meant. What does the note say?”

Emma blurted, “This doesn’t bother you? Hermione being delivered a message by a bird? Which could be diseased?”

“Emma, I’ve met the boy. I quite doubt that he would send Hermione a diseased anything. Anyway, Hermione, what did Harry write?”

Hermione commented, “The writing is small.”

Then she read aloud, “Dear Hermione, I’m glad I met you earlier today, and I’m glad you want to be my friend.

“I’m conducting an experiment now. I want to see if you receive this, then I receive a message back from you, without us needing to buy stamps and to use Royal Mail.

“I ask that you write me back, then wrap your message round Hedwig’s leg, then put the elastic round the message to keep it from falling off her leg. It doesn’t matter what you write—‘Message received’ is good enough.

“Owls are meat-eaters, and it’s traditional to tip the owl with meat after you collect its letter. Owls apparently love bacon. But since you probably don’t have any bacon lying about except at breakfasttime, do what my mum’s family did: When Mum was sending school owls to her parents, my grandparents kept an open tin of chicken chunks in the refrigerator.

“When I send an owl off with a letter, I’ll tell the owl either ‘Wait for a reply’ or “No reply is needed.’ If I had told Hedwig ‘No reply expected,’ she’d have flown out the window as soon as you’d collected the message.

“Hermione, I’m eager to be your friend. How eager? My first-ever owl-mail message, I sent to you. I hope to hear from you soon.

“Harry Potter

“P.S. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in your house in Crawley, or at Hogwarts or on holiday in Marseille, a postal owl always will find you. Same with me, if you’ve given Hedwig something to take to me. I love magic.”

Hermione then looked up, locked eyes with the white owl, and said, “Please, Hedwig, stay here!”

Seconds later, the Doctors Granger heard the thu-thu-thu-thu-thump of their daughter running up the stairs at flank speed. Less than a minute later, Hermione rushed back into the kitchen with a blank sheet of paper, a pair of scissors and a Biro pen.

****

Fifteen minutes later

It took Hermione a long time to write a half-page of words, Dan Granger saw. For minutes at a time, his daughter’s pen did not move; and during those times of motionlessness by the pen, Hermione was scowling. If Dan had to guess, Hermione was agonising over what to write her new friend.

All the while, the white owl waited, with no signs of impatience.

When Hermione finally huffed, and used the scissors to cut the half of the paper that had writing on it, away from the half of the paper that was blank, Dan asked his daughter, “May I add something?”

Hermione handed her father the pen and the half-page. The upper-right corner of the half-page had a tiny little blank place; Dan wrote there, “Turn over=>.” On the blank back of the half-page, Dan wrote, “Dear Harry, Dan and Emma Granger invite you to visit our house in Crawley sometime this summer.”

After Dan wrote that, he got a hug from his daughter—but this hug was nuclear-powered.

****

A half-hour later

Harry smiled as he read the owl-mail from Hermione—

25th July, 1991

Thank you for using your owl to write to me.

Nothing much is happening in my life till term starts. When your owl came, Mum and I were washing dishes. My mum freaked out when I let Hedwig in our house!

According to the books I’ve read this year, every magical kid does accidental magic before they receive their Hogwarts letter. What accidental magic have you done? Here’s my story.

I was six or seven years old, and I was watching Return to Oz on video, and it was near the end. My parents told me that I had to stop the film and go with them someplace for a short time. (Butcher shop? Greengrocer?) Anyway, I really wanted to stay in the house and see the end of the film, but they said no, no. I was angry, because I’d already proven myself mature enough to be left home alone for short periods (at least I thought so). Dad ejected the tape and turned off the VCR, then he turned off the telly and said, “Come on, Hermione.” That’s when the telly screen blew up.

Mum claims that when I was four years old, a storybook came off a shelf in my bedroom and floated across the room to my hand, but I don’t remember this.

Your friend, Hermione Granger

(In different handwriting) Turn over=>

Dear Harry, Dan and Emma Granger invite you to visit our house in Crawley sometime this summer.

Harry soon sent back two messages: one to the elder Grangers and one to Hermione. The message to the Doctors Granger said, “My birthday is next Wednesday, the 31st. Would this work as a day for me to come to your house in the evening? I turn eleven then.”

Harry gave the three Grangers no hint that he had other events planned for 31st July. Harry’s eleventh birthday was when Harry would show Wizarding Britain that “the Boy Who Lived” was not “just Harry.” Harry thought, Albus Dumbledore, beware. Your comfortable life is about to turn uncomfortable.

Chapter 8: Harry’s Eleventh Birthday

Chapter Text

Six days later: Wednesday, 31st July

The past six days had been different for the three Dursleys who lived at Number 4, Privet Drive. The Dursleys had picked up that the contempt that Harry had held for them, a contempt he had previously hidden, was now unveiled. Harry’s uncle and cousin also had picked up that Harry was no longer scared of them—and that if they continued to act like tossers, there would be a reckoning in a few years.

Harry was contemptuous of Aunt Petunia too—and this bothered her, it seemed. She apologised to Harry for trying to read Lily’s diary without asking permission first. Harry decided he would like it if Petunia would start to act like a true aunt to him from now on, but he did not hold out much hope.

This morning at 9 a.m., Harry told Aunt Petunia, “I have wizarding business today, and I’ll be gone all day. It’ll be up to you to prepare today’s meals and to wash the dishes. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Harry did not ask his aunt for permission to leave, he simply told his aunt that he was leaving, then walked out.

Two minutes after Harry walked out to the kerb, he was stepping onto the Knight Bus.

As Harry rode the dangerous purple contraption, he was smiling, because life was good. Since Harry had both a method of sending a letter in a short amount of time, and a workaholic owl, Harry and Hermione had exchanged many letters over the last six days. In her last letter, Hermione was rereading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Hermione’s book report was from the viewpoint of a little-girl witch who also was an avid reader.

Hermione had begun writing her letters with a quill pen on parchment. (“I need the practise before we go to Hogwarts.”) Hermione had written that her parents “fell down laughing” when they discovered that Hogwarts was so old-fashioned this way.

****

Ten minutes after Harry boarded the Knight Bus, he was walking through the Leaky Cauldron.

Nobody recognised him in there, because Harry wore no glasses and showed no scar. A minute later, nobody recognised him in Diagon Alley, either.

In his other lifetime, this had been the day that Hagrid had taken Harry to Diagon Alley to buy books and school supplies, and everyone had recognised him. His memory of that day’s visit to the Leaky Cauldron, with strangers reaching for him and touching him, had been frightening.

****

In Gringotts

Harry’s teller looked bored. Or annoyed. Or both.

Harry said in a clear voice, “Good morning, Teller. May your gold flow and your enemies’ blood pool at your feet. I’m Harry Potter, and I wish to speak with the Potter account manager, please.” Harry presented his trust-vault key.

These words yielded very helpful service from the teller (once Harry dripped some blood droplets onto a parchment and his identity was confirmed). Harry mused how nice it was that the 1991 goblins did not know about him breaking into Gringotts in 1998, then smashing his way out of Gringotts on the back of a dragon.

The teller soon escorted Harry to the “Potter account manager”—the Potter family crest was on his door. Walking through the door, Harry braced for battle—

Spirit-James and Spirit-Lily had warned Harry about Bronzedagger, the Potter account manager. Harry’s parents had warned him: Bronzedagger was in Dumbledore’s pocket.

****

“Tell me how Gringotts can help you today, Mr Potter,” Bronzedagger said.

Harry replied, “Today is my eleventh birthday. I want to claim my Heir Potter ring, read my parents’ wills and organise an audit of my trust vault.”

“Erm, auditing a vault requires a fee—”

“Which I’ll pay.”

“—and requires Director Ragnok’s signature. I’ll get that now. Please wait here.”

Bronzedagger hurried out the door of his office, to the corridor outside. Quietly, Harry followed Bronzedagger into the corridor, and watched the goblin hurry away.

Mounted to the corridor’s ceiling were signs in Goblintext. Most of the signs were small, announcing who or what was behind a particular door.

A larger sign, besides showing Goblintext, had a right-arrow and a picture of an owl; clearly this sign said Here is the Message Centre.

A different sign had Goblintext, a left-arrow and a picture of a crown. Here is Director Ragnok’s office, Harry figured. But that was not where Bronzedagger was going. Either Bronzedagger could not tell an owl from a crown, or the goblin was about to send a message to someone.

Harry saw three goblin soldiers in the corridor, each holding a large two-headed axe. Harry pointed at Bronzedagger and yelled, “Stop that goblin! He intends to warn the wizard who is bribing him!”

All three goblin soldiers took off running—one ran after Bronzedagger, one ran to Ragnok’s office and knocked on the door, and the third goblin soldier headed for Harry. Two seconds later, Harry had the top of that soldier’s axe pressed against his chest. This did not hurt, but Harry was not about to make any sudden moves.

****

A minute later

“Wizard, tell me why you demanded that my soldiers arrest one of my people,” Harry was ordered by Director Ragnok. Ragnok looked annoyed. Meanwhile, that goblin axe still was pressed against Harry’s chest.

Almost all of the goblins at Gringotts wore Muggle business suits that were tailored for their bodies. Goblin soldiers, however, wore chainmail. Director Ragnok wore both chainmail and a black cape with white Goblintext words on it. Also, Ragnok wore a sword with a back-scabbard.

Harry kept calm. He replied, “Today is my eleventh birthday. I told Bronzedagger I wanted to claim my Heir Potter ring, read my parents’ wills and order an audit of my trust vault. He told me that for an audit, I’d be charged a fee—which I don’t mind paying—and that he’d need your signature.”

Ragnok snarled. The sound was inhuman.

Just then, there was a commotion by the Message Centre. Bronzedagger backed out of the Message Centre into the corridor, his hands up. The goblin soldier who had chased after Bronzedagger was now smacking him with the flat part of the double-axe. That goblin soldier yelled something angry, as he let a piece of paper drop to the floor.

The third goblin soldier, whose double-axe was held in parade position instead of threatening someone’s tender flesh, ran off to fetch the paper and to bring it to Ragnok.

Ragnok glanced at the paper, then yelled Gobbledygook words of command. The goblin soldier by Bronzedagger chopped all the way through his neck, then wandlessly vanished all the blood (besides vanishing the lower part of Bronzedagger’s corpse).

****

Two minutes later, still in the corridor

Ragnok and Harry still were standing outside the office of the late, unlamented Bronzedagger. Harry did not understand Gobbledygook, but apparently he and Ragnok were waiting for someone. The goblin soldier who had threatened Harry with his axe now stood two paces away, and his axe now was in the parade position.

The soldier who had severed Bronzedagger’s head had left immediately afterwards—along with the head.

Now the third goblin soldier walked up to Ragnok, along with a pinstripe-suited goblin whom Harry dimly recognised from his previous lifetime. This goblin soldier saluted Ragnok by thumping his fist against his breastbone, then he stepped back and moved his axe to parade position.

Ragnok spoke to the newcomer goblin in English, so that Harry could understand: “Senior Teller Axefrenzy, you are due a promotion. You now are the Potter Account Manager. Move into Bronzedagger’s office; he no longer needs it. Box up his personal effects and put them out in the corridor. Mr Potter has business with you—business which Bronzedagger failed to carry out properly.”

Axefrenzy thanked Ragnok, bowed deeply, then hurried through the door to Bronzedagger’s office.

Ragnok magically changed the sign above the Potter account manager’s office. Ragnok was turning to walk away when Harry said, “Director Ragnok?”

“No need to thank me, young Mr Potter,” Ragnok replied. “Time is money.”

“As you wish, director,” Harry replied. “But I wanted to tell you that it’s on my to-do list to talk to you today, after I talk with my account manager.”

Ragnok’s attitude turned wary—Harry, who in his previous lifetime often had been approached by people asking for a “favour” from the Boy Who Lived, understood this wariness well. Now Ragnok asked, “What do you wish to speak with me about?”

Harry replied, “In a Gringotts vault—not one of mine—is something that dishonours the entire Goblin Nation. But here in the corridor is not the place to discuss such a thing.”

“Very well. If the subject is as you say, I shall permit a meeting.” Then Ragnok looked meaningfully at Axefrenzy’s door. Mr Potter, don’t keep my employee waiting. Time is money.

****

In Axefrenzy’s office
(Office of the brand-new Potter account manager)

Harry said, as soon as he stepped through the door, “Congratulations on your promotion, Axefrenzy. May we both bathe in gold in the coming years.”

Axefrenzy replied, “Thank you. But in the meantime, please be patient with me, Mr Potter. I’m forced to familiarise myself with your account whilst you’re sitting right in front of me.”

Harry chuckled. “And I’ve turned eleven today, so all of this is new to me too.”

“Indeed? You know the traditional goblin greetings. Most magical humans don’t know them.” And can’t be bothered to learn them, Axefrenzy implied.

“I’ve been reading my mother’s diaries. As a Muggle-born, she thought most of the ‘time-tested ancient traditions of Wizarding Britain’ were balderdash.”

Axefrenzy grinned in agreement, as he closed a big ledger and set it aside. “How can Gringotts help you today, Mr Potter, on your eleventh birthday?” Axefrenzy’s toothless smile said I can guess quite well why you’re here today.

Harry also smiled (toothlessly). “As I told Bronzedagger, I want to claim my Heir Potter ring, read my parents’ wills and organise an audit of my trust vault.”

“May I ask why you want an audit of your trust vault? I can write you out a statement of deposits and withdrawals that goes back however-many years you want, and the fee is much less.”

Harry sighed. “But would the written-out numbers be accurate, or would Bronzedagger have doctored them? That’s why I want an audit.” Then Harry gasped. “Bloody hell, I just realised, the deposits to my trust vault come from the Potter family vault, don’t they? Looks like I’ll need the family vault audited too. Bollocks.”

Axefrenzy stood up. “I’ll go talk to Director Ragnok. Bronzedagger dishonoured you, and he also dishonoured the Goblin Nation. I’ll ask the director whether the fees for the two audits can be waived. I’ll return soon.”

For the second time today, Harry watched the goblin who was the Potter account manager walk out of his office whilst Harry was in the room. But this time, Harry did not give chase.

Two minutes later, Axefrenzy returned to the office, and to his desk, with a signed parchment. “Both vault-audit fees have been waived,” he announced.

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Your numbers of right now might be overstated, but what do your statements say is in my trust vault and in the family vault? Coinage only.”

“The latest figures I have are: trust vault, 49 999 galleons, 16 sickles, and 29 knuts. Family vault, 386 830 744 galleons, 1 683 sickles, and 350 knuts.”

Harry whistled, shocked. sh*t, no wonder Molly and Ginny worked so hard to love-potion me. I’ve a quarter-million pounds’ worth of coins in my trust vault alone!

Becoming the heir to the House of Potter was simple. Axefrenzy read out a particular magical oath, which Harry repeated with his wand pointing up. Light flashed, then Harry donned the Heir Potter ring.

The Heir ring was a gold ring with a square that contained a black ‘P’ against a grey background that was the colour of wet clay. As soon as Harry put on the Heir ring, two things happened: the ring shrank to fit his finger, and Harry knew things.

(One of the things that Harry knew was that if his hand came near a chalice, goblet, glass or cup, the ring would detect potions added to the liquid. Spirit-James had been right: If Harry had been wearing his Heir Potter ring in his previous lifetime, Molly and Ginny would not have been able to love-potion him.)

Axefrenzy then asked, “How else may Gringotts help you today, Heir Potter?”

“Please, Axefrenzy, call me Harry. But since now I am Heir Potter, I wish to read my parents’ wills.”

“Give me a moment, and I will summon them.”

When the two wills appeared on Axefrenzy’s desk, they were wrapped in a parchment that had Goblintext words on them. Axefrenzy scowled. “The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot has sealed these wills. Meaning, nobody in the Ministry of Magic may read them.”

“The Chief Warlock is Albus Dumbledore—a name you’re going to hear me saying often today. He’s my enemy. Anyway, the wills being sealed at the Ministry—what does this mean at Gringotts?”

Axefrenzy’s grin showed pointed teeth. “At Gringotts, it means nothing, because Gringotts is sovereign territory. You as the Heir may read these wills, you may pay for copies, then you may hand out those copies at the Leaky Cauldron if you wish—and neither the Wizengamot nor Chief Warlock Dumbledore can tell you no.”

“Great,” Harry said. “Let me read the wills, then let me decide what to do next.”

Both wills were short; and Harry already knew in general terms what the wills said, from talking with Spirit-James and Spirit-Lily. But it was one thing to be told that Dumbledore had illegally ruined his life, but it was another thing to read the written proof.

Harry growled, “Two wills, and in neither one is Dumbledore’s name mentioned anywhere except as a witness! And my father’s will refers to Sirius Black as my ‘oath-sworn godfather.’ Doesn’t this mean that if he truly did betray my parents and put me in danger, he would’ve dropped dead then and there? Yet he’s alive. He’s in Azkaban, yes, but alive.”

Axefrenzy scowled. “That is strange. I can’t explain it.”

Harry growled, “I think the ultimate explanation is that Dumbledore has been abusing his powers again.”

In Harry’s previous lifetime, Harry knew, Dumbledore kept on abusing his powers. Sirius left Azkaban not from anything that Dumbledore did, but by turning into a dog and escaping. Then, even after Dumbledore was convinced of Sirius’s innocence, the Chief Warlock never bothered to give Sirius a trial, which not even the Minister of Magic could have stopped Dumbledore from organising. Then, almost two years before Harry himself died, Sirius died when he fell through the Veil—still a wanted criminal for crimes that he had never committed.

Now Harry looked at Axefrenzy. “I would like three certified copies of each will, please, and I would like to schedule the wills’ public readings. Would 31st August be a good date?”

Harry thought, I’m sure Dumbledore will want to interfere. But if the wills’ reading is the day before the new term starts at Hogwarts, Dumbledore can interfere less.

Axefrenzy replied, “Saturday the thirty-first of August for the reading? This will give us plenty of time to notify the beneficiaries. I foresee no problem.”

Harry said, “I’m going to work on getting Sirius Black freed from Azkaban. Hopefully, he’ll be out of prison and be able to attend the readings, one month from today.”

Axefrenzy asked, “Is there anything else that Gringotts can help you with, Heir Potter?”

“Just a few things. Somehow Dumbledore has put an owl-mail-redirect spell on me. In ten years, the only magical mail I’ve received has been my Hogwarts letter. Whatever account statements Gringotts has sent, Dumbledore has read them, not me.”

Axefrenzy growled.

Harry told Axefrenzy, “Related to this, I’m about to call the head Potter house-elf. Greyclay.”

Pop—Greyclay appeared by Harry’s chair.

Harry said to Axefrenzy, “From now on, I want all Gringotts correspondence to be sent not by owl, but by calling my house-elf Greyclay. G-R-E-Y-C-L-A-Y.”

“I’ll make a note.” So saying, Axefrenzy wrote something on a piece of paper, folded the paper in half and dropped the folded paper into a slot in the desktop.

Harry said to Greyclay, “Please listen for Gringotts calling your name. When they give you a letter for me, wait till I’m alone to pop in and to hand me the letter.”

“Greyclay will do this.”

“Thank you, Greyclay. Return to whatever else you were doing.” Pop—Greyclay disappeared.

Axefrenzy said, “In the meantime, here are the three certified copies of the wills that you requested. The fees will be taken from your trust vault.” Axefrenzy took the will-copies from a black box on the desk that before then, Harry had not paid attention to.

Harry picked up the will-copies, then said, “This finishes my business with you. Now, Director Ragnok has agreed to meet with me sometime today. Axefrenzy, would you please walk me into his office, so that I don’t break some big goblin rule without knowing? I’ve already come way too close to a double-headed axe today, and I don’t want to wind up like Bronzedagger.”

****

Two minutes later, in Director Ragnok’s office

Harry said to Ragnok, “I’ve signed a magical contract, so I can’t tell you how I know this, but in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault is the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff. Which has a horcrux—a piece of Voldemort’s soul—attached to the Cup.”

“You’re sure of this? One of those abominations is in a Gringotts vault?”

“I am absolutely sure, no doubt at all. But you don’t need to take my word on it—go in that vault and check it out for yourself. Just don’t mention my name to anyone.”

“If there is such an abomination there, Gringotts will seize Bellatrix Lestrange’s entire vault. How much of her vault do you want as a finder’s fee?”

“None of it. I’m not asking you to do this so I can get richer. I have another reason for telling you, and maybe my reason is selfish, but it has nothing to do with money.”

“Very well. Gringotts will check out the vault, and Gringotts will write you a letter that either tells you that we found the item that you described, or that we didn’t. However, I warn you now that if we find nothing—meaning that you’ve wasted Gringotts’s time—we will fine your trust vault ten thousand galleons.” Ragnok was watching Harry’s face closely.

“That’s fair. But I’m certain you’ll find a horcrux in Bellatrix’s vault, just as I said.”

Harry continued, “Now, when you find that horcrux, is there any way you can use that horcrux to locate others? I’m sure Lord Voldemort made more than one horcrux.”

Ragnok snarled. “That is evil.”

Harry nodded. “Voldemort is an evil man.” Listen, from a 1998 perspective, I could tell you stories...

Ragnok asked, “Once we find the horcrux in our vault—if we do—I’m sure that goblin magic can create a locator spell to find other horcruxes of the Dark Lord.”

“Good,” Harry said. I already know where the other four horcruxes are, but this way, my explanation of how I know doesn’t require me to mention time-travel.

Ragnok asked, “Is there anything else Gringotts can do for you, Heir Potter?”

“Yes. Dumbledore. Since my parents’ wills don’t say Dumbledore is any sort of magical guardian, I ask that starting now, you block him from getting into any of my vaults, and you take back any stuff from my vaults that he’s taken.”

Ragnok replied, “Do you want us to arrest him and to put him in a goblin mine?”

“If you can make an airtight case, yes. Dumbledore claims to be my magical guardian? McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout are true magical guardians, with access to Muggle-born students’ vaults. Lightly audit those Muggle-borns’ vaults, just to find out what magical guardians normally do, then audit my vaults. If anything in my vaults is dodgy, then yes, arrest Dumbledore and work that wanker!”

When Harry’s meeting with Ragnok ended, Harry bowed to Ragnok and gave ritualised thanks; then Harry called Greyclay. Harry told the Potter house-elf to take him directly to his bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive. Pop.

Since Harry had come to Gringotts by riding on the Knight Bus, why did he not wish to ride the Knight Bus to get home? Today, Hagrid would be in Gringotts sometime, to fetch the Philosopher’s Stone from vault 713; and Quirrellmort would be in Gringotts later today, to try and steal the Philosopher’s Stone from this same vault. Harry did not want to run into either of them—which might happen if Harry had to walk out of Gringotts and through Diagon Alley, on his way to hailing the Knight Bus.

****

A minute later
Back in Harry’s bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive

Harry took out paper and pen (not parchment and quill), and wrote a letter to Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—

31st July, 1991

Dear Director Bones,

I am Harry James Potter, of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Today I turned eleven. I went to Gringotts, claimed my Heir Potter ring and asked to read my parents’ wills. (A copy of each will is included with this letter.)

Did you know that the copies of the wills that the Ministry has, have been “sealed” by order of the Chief Warlock? My understanding of this term is that not only has the Ministry not carried out what the wills say, but also you can be put on trial just for reading the wills. Now who was the Chief Warlock who sealed my parents’ wills? Albus Dumbledore. Remember his name.

This same Albus Dumbledore placed me with my mother’s Muggle sister and her husband, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, two days after my parents were killed. I was left with the Dursleys even after the wills of both of my parents said, “No, not Petunia as Harry’s guardian, no way!”

Also, Albus Dumbledore has named himself as my magical guardian, even though he appears in both wills nowhere except as witness. By the way, the wills name you as a possible guardian, after Sirius Black and Alice Longbottom.

As a supposed magical guardian to me, Albus Dumbledore is awful. He’s been my supposed guardian for ten years now, but I’ve never met him. So he carrying out his duties as my guardian—telling me about my parents, and about the House of Potter and the wizarding world? None of this has happened. The only reason I know anything at all about the wizarding world is because I’m reading my mum’s Hogwarts diaries, plus there are some books that Professor Snape suggested I buy and read.

I’m starved and beaten by Vernon and Petunia Dursley and their Muggle son Dudley, but not only has Dumbledore not caught this (because he’s never visited me), but whatever Muggle and magical agencies are supposed to check up on orphan children, have never visited me either. I suspect that Dumbledore somehow has blocked those government agencies from doing their job when it comes to me.

Earlier, I mentioned Sirius Black. I understand that he has been put in the wizards’ prison supposedly for committing many crimes, beginning with betraying my parents to Voldemort. But look at my father’s will, which calls Sirius Black “Harry’s oath-sworn godfather.” My understanding of this term is that if Sirius were in fact my oath-sworn godfather and then chose to do something to endanger me, he would’ve dropped dead on the spot. Yet he’s alive.

Something is quite odd about what happened to Sirius Black, but I don’t know enough to do more than to make vague accusations. But here’s what I do know: One, I have lots of money in my vaults, which my guardian gets to spend. (Dumbledore has had my Gringotts key for the past ten years.) Two, if Sirius Black weren’t in prison, then he would become my guardian, and Albus Dumbledore couldn’t stop this. This is why I think Dumbledore got Sirius Black thrown in prison, and somehow Dumbledore is keeping my godfather in prison.

Until I’m told otherwise, I believe that my godfather, Sirius Black, is innocent! Get my innocent godfather Sirius Black another trial, so that the man who is supposed to be my magical guardian, can be!

Harry James Potter

P.S. If you or someone you know has read the “Harry Potter” books that are written by Roy Locke, take it from one who knows: nothing in those books is true.

P.P.S. If you want to know the truth about how I’ve been raised, talk to Professor Snape. He’s been to my relatives’ house and he’s seen how they treat me. He also knew my Aunt Petunia as a child.

Harry used Greyclay to deliver a copy of the will for each of his parents, along with Harry’s letter, to Amelia Bones. Harry wondered what Madam Bones would think after she read his letter.

****

After Amelia Bones read Harry Potter’s letter, she drank half a bottle of firewhisky, trying to drown her shame.

As Director of the DMLE, it was part of Amelia’s job to investigate any allegation of someone being unjustly convicted of a crime. Even if the prisoner were Bellatrix Lestrange (whom Amelia loathed), if Amelia saw evidence that suggested the prisoner should not be in prison, Amelia was obliged to investigate.

Sirius Black’s arrest and imprisonment had bothered Amelia from that day, ten years ago, when she had first heard of Sirius’s misfortunes. But Amelia had never investigated Sirius Black’s case, even after she had been granted the formal authority to do so as Director of the DMLE.

But what was much worse for Amelia, what truly made her want to get drunk, was that Sirius Black was not a stranger to Amelia. He and she had dated—at Hogwarts, when he had gone through the Auror Academy, and as young Aurors. In October of 1981, Amelia had believed that Sirius was working up the courage to propose to her—and if he had asked that question, she would have said yes in a heartbeat.

So why had Amelia let Sirius rot in Azkaban? She had no excuse.

Drunk Amelia resolved that she would do right by Sirius Black, even if both Cornelius Fudge and Albus Dumbledore gave her pushback. Sirius Black and Harry Potter deserved nothing less.

****

Meanwhile in Harry’s bedroom

After Harry sent Greyclay off with his letter to Madam Bones, Harry petted Hedwig, flipped through his schoolbooks, and generally puttered about.

The simple truth was, Harry was procrastinating.

Harry was about to do something that the founders had advised him to do, that his parents had agreed that he should do, and yet it went entirely against his nature to do—

Talk to the press.

During the planning session, the founders had told Harry, “You desperately have wished to be treated as ‘just Harry’ by wizards and witches, but except for that bushy-haired girl, this has never happened. Here’s something you don’t know—”

“After Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, he wasn’t treated as ‘just Albus,’ any more than you’ve ever been ‘just Harry.’ Not only were students in awe of Dumbledore afterwards, but so were his fellow professors. The moral of this story? You cannot not be a celebrity, unless we somehow could Obliviate all of Wizarding Britain. So since you always will be a celebrity, plan how you will use your celebrity.”

Spirit-Lily had nodded, agreeing with the founders’ words. “Harry, ordinary magicals want to talk about you and know about you. Trust me, there was never a series of books in Flourish and Blotts about your father, or the other Marauders, or me! But if you don’t talk about yourself, other people will talk about you. Many of your problems in this last lifetime came because Cornelius Fudge talked about you, and that horrid Umbridge woman, and Rita Skeeter, and Draco Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy—they talked about you first, they talked about you often and, since you never spoke up at all, those people who hated you, shaped how other magical people thought of you.”

Spirit-James had said, “Always be the first to tell your story. Then when something noteworthy happens—troll in the lavatory, a sixty-foot basilisk, your name coming out of a magical goblet—you be the first to tell that story. Dumbledore will try to take over your story and claim that whatever brilliant thing you just achieved, you did only because of his ‘wise guidance.’ Speak up fast and speak up first, before Dumbledore does—that wizard loves the sound of his own voice.”

So now Harry took up pen and paper, and wrote to Xenophilius Lovegood, publisher and editor of The Quibbler—

31st July, 1991

Dear Mr Lovegood,

I am Harry James Potter. Today I turned eleven years old. I’m told I’m famous.

I found out a week ago that in Wizarding Britain, I’m known as “the Boy Who Lived,” and that I’m a celebrity because I survived the attack that killed both of my parents.

I remember a few things about that night, but not many. My strongest memory is of a green light.

I once magically moved to the roof of a school building when I was chased by bullies, and I can talk to snakes (which I’m told is rare even for wizards, though my mum could do it too). I don’t know how magically powerful I am, but I think that as eleven-year-old wizard kids go, I’m somewhere in the middle.

The first time I was officially told I was a wizard was when I received my Hogwarts letter a week ago, and the first magical person I ever met was Professor Snape, a week ago. It was Professor Snape who told me that people called me “the Boy Who Lived,” and he had to tell me what the term meant. The only reason I know anything at all about the magical world was that a year ago, I discovered my mum’s school trunk in my aunt’s attic, and I’ve been reading my mum’s diaries about her Hogwarts years. It was from reading my mum’s first-year diary that I realised I was a wizard.

Those Harry Potter books written by Roy Locke—I’ve only glanced through them, but from what little I’ve read, they’re malarkey. For one thing, I grew up with my mother’s Muggle sister and her Muggle family, not with “George and Rowena Potter.” I’ve never seen a troll or a dragon.

I’m writing to you because I’m told that you print a newspaper (but to be honest, I’ve never read it), and because your wife Pandora was friends with my mother (Lily Evans) at Hogwarts.

Anyway, would you be interested in me writing my story and you printing it? I’m not asking for money, but I insist that you don’t change or cut any of what I write.

I have a certified copy of my father’s will and my mother’s will, to back up some of my claims.

Harry James Potter

Harry also wrote a letter to Barnabas Cuffe at the Daily Prophet, with similar wording and with the same white lies.

****

That evening, at the Granger house
Crawley, West Sussex

Harry arrived in style—if the noisy, eyeball-stomping-purple Knight Bus could be considered “stylish.”

For Harry’s birthday, Hermione gifted Harry a copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (which Harry had not read). The Doctors Granger gifted Harry a hardcover dictionary and—unusual for dentists—a fancy box of chocolates.

At first Hermione was happy, because now she had a friend and she was having fun with her friend. Because Hermione was happy, Harry and the elder Grangers all were happy, though for different reasons.

However, Hermione was beginning to work herself into a “I haven’t studied enough!” panic—Harry recognised her symptoms. He said to her, “Do you realise that this is the only time over the next seven years that we won’t have homework during the summer? Enjoy your last month of leisure and freedom!”

“But—”

Dan Granger gave Hermione a Dad-look, then said, “Thank you, Harry.”

But then Harry himself brought Hermione back to panic when he shared with the Grangers that, according to Lily’s second-year diary, Harry’s mum had regretted not signing up for any correspondence classes for Muggle subjects. Lily in second year had found out that Muggle-borns seldom were hired for anything more than menial jobs in the wizarding world, whilst the total lack of any Muggle classes meant that Muggle-borns were unemployable in the Muggle world.

The Granger parents got angry when Harry said all this. They said that Professor McGonagall had misled them.

Hermione looked thoughtful.

****

Harry was telling the Grangers about his shopping trips with Professor Snape six days ago, which had led up to Harry meeting Hermione. But it seemed that Harry told more than he meant to.

“I don’t understand,” said Hermione, “why Harry bought new clothes, and had to change into the new clothes, before he went to Diagon Alley and did wizard-shopping.”

Dan Granger’s eyes were running a full diagnostic scan of the part of Harry that could be seen above the table.

Emma Granger patted Hermione’s hand and said, “Dear, let’s talk about something else. We don’t want to embarrass Harry.” Hermione gave her mother a puzzled look.

Dan asked Harry, “Are your relatives sometimes not nice to you?”

Harry, who was desperate to change the subject, asked the Granger parents what dental school was like.

****

Harry was talking about the errands he had run earlier today. He showed the Grangers his Heir Potter ring.

“I see lots of gold in that ring,” Dan said.

Harry nodded. “But what really makes this ring valuable is all the spells attached to it. For instance, the ring detects potions in any cup I’m holding.”

Emma asked, “Is this a real worry for you, someone slipping a potion into your drink because now you’re the heir to an ancient magical family?”

Harry thought of the sh*t that Molly, Ron and Ginny had pulled. Harry replied, “Are potions a worry? Sometimes, yes.”

Chapter 9: During the Next Month

Chapter Text

The next day (Thursday, 1st August, 1991)
Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry had just finished eating breakfast (after first cooking the breakfast). Harry was up in his bedroom, grabbing up his moneybag and his Haroldus Potter wand; Harry had plans to visit the goblin healers today.

Harry’s plans got adjusted slightly when an unfamiliar owl appeared at his window.

Amelia Bones wanted to know Harry’s Muggle address, because she wanted to meet with him at his house. Harry wrote out his address, and attached the strip of parchment to the owl’s leg. Rather than immediately leave for Gringotts, Harry sat down to wait for Madam Bones’s visit.

A half-hour later, the Dursleys’ doorbell was rung. Aunt Petunia tried to refuse letting Madam Bones in, till Madam Bones told Aunt Petunia, “I’m here on police business. If you refuse to let me in, I’ll arrest you, Mrs Dursley. Your choice.”

Madam Bones told Harry that she was there to take a good look at Petunia and Dudley (and at Vernon, but he was at work). Dudley did not disappoint Harry; he asked Madam Bones, “Are you a freak too?”

Harry took great pleasure in telling his aunt and cousin, “This is Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She’s Wizarding Britain’s top cop, and now she knows where I live.” Harry added cruelly, “Please, Dudley, go ahead and smack me in front of her.”

Harry likewise took great pleasure in showing Madam Bones the inside of the cupboard under the stairs, and explaining the importance of the cupboard. (Aunt Petunia, needless to say, looked panicked.)

Harry and Madam Bones went into the sitting room, where she put up a Silencing Charm. Immediately afterwards, she said, “You’re smaller than eleven-year-old boys are supposed to be.”

Harry smiled crookedly and said, “Tell me about it.”

The next thing that Harry said to Madam Bones was to ask for an in-depth, written report on what wards the house had. “When I was left in a basket on my aunt and uncle’s doorstep, a letter also was in the basket, and that letter implies that my mother’s sacrifice somehow made the wards on this house more powerful. But the price for me getting more powerful wards is that I must live with my mother’s sister till I’m seventeen. But why would this man who cares nothing about the Dursleys hurting me, talk about protecting me from Voldemort and his Death Eaters? I suspect Dumbledore is up to something.”

Harry then asked, “What is the latest with my godfather, Sirius Black?”

Madam Bones told Harry that she could not tell him much—the Sirius Black case was now under investigation—but what she had found so far was quite dodgy. She had ordered that Black be brought from Azkaban for questioning.

Harry and Madam Bones went outside. She did an analysis of the wards on the Dursley house, after Disillusioning the recording quill and parchment.

Harry could not understand much of what Madam Bones found, except that—

One, there was nothing groundbreaking or puzzling about the wards here. Which meant that these wards could be set up to protect any house anywhere.

Two, the wards at Number 4 were powered by Harry’s own magic.

Madam Bones commented, “If someone set up these wards as part of their N.E.W.T. Practical for Runes, he or she would get only an Acceptable. Wards should not be vampiric in order to work. Neither your aunt nor you need to live here for these wards to work.”

****

Ten minutes later, at Hogwarts SOW&W

At breakfast, Albus many-names Dumbledore was feeling good. All day yesterday, Albus had been a bit worried that he would get an owl-message from Bronzedagger saying, “Harry Potter is here and he wants to claim his Heir Ring.”

Albus did not think the boy would do such a thing so soon—and hopefully the Dursleys would have kept the boy so ignorant of his wizarding heritage that he would not know to claim his Heir Ring ever. But if Harry Potter had claimed his Heir Ring and then had asked to see his parents’ wills, Albus’s great scheme for Harry would be undercut.

But Bronzedagger had sent Albus no message yesterday, and Hagrid had not spotted Harry in Gringotts (or anywhere else in Diagon Alley). Even better, Hagrid had removed the Philosopher’s Stone from Vault 713 before Voldemort had broken into Vault 713. At the moment, Albus was happier than he had been in a long time.

So when Amelia Bones floo-called Albus in the headmaster’s office, Albus was smiling during the entire time he talked to her.

****

“Good morning, Professor Dumbledore,” Amelia said, “I have some questions for you today.” Amelia was not speaking like the Director of the DMLE who was questioning a dodgy suspect, she was speaking like the aunt of an eleven-year-old child.

Amelia continued, “You know those Harry Potter books that Roy Locke has written? Susan has devoured four of them, and her friend Hannah owns five. They can’t wait to meet Harry Potter in a month!”

“I’m sure Harry will be glad to meet them too,” Albus said with a laugh. Both Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were pretty for eleven-year-old girls.

Amelia said, “Anyway, Susan has questions, and she doesn’t want to wait a month till she and Harry Potter are face-to-face on the train, to ask her questions. Will you let me ask questions, and ask the questions to you?”

“I’d be delighted, Amelia.”

Albus waited for Madam Bones to correct him about calling her “Amelia”—but for whatever reason, she did not.

“First question,” Amelia said, her voice sounding relaxed, “Where exactly is Harry living now?”

Albus laughed. “For Harry’s safety, I won’t answer that, Amelia, not even for the Director of the DMLE! I will tell you that Harry and his family live in Pembrokeshire County, Wales. Harry’s home is less than a mile from the sea.”

“That sounds brilliant. And whom does Harry live with?”

“Amelia, anyone who’s read the books knows the answer to this question. Harry lives with his sixth cousin, George Potter, George’s wife Rowena and their house-elf Rappy.”

“How is Harry? How is his health?”

“Harry sometimes gets banged up from the adventures he goes on—but at home, Harry is safe and loved.”

“So nobody at home hurts Harry? Nobody loses their temper and hurts Harry?”

The question confused Albus; he could not guess why Amelia was asking him this. But Albus answered her question: “Nobody at home hurts Harry. He is safe and loved.”

“Have you visited Harry at the place where he lives? Gone to see if he’s doing okay?”

“I have. Harry lives in a twenty-room palace that is painted periwinkle blue. Rappy bakes a delicious apple pie. As for Harry, let me repeat: Harry is safe and loved. He loves his family as much as they love him, by the way.”

“How did Harry go from living with James and Lily Potter to living with his guardians?”

“After his parents were killed, I told Rubeus Hagrid to bring Harry to Hogwarts. We had the boy in the hospital wing—Madam Pomfrey was trying unsuccessfully to heal Harry’s lightning-bolt scar. Anyway, whilst Harry was at Hogwarts, George and Rowena owled me, volunteering to be Harry’ s guardians. On 3rd November 1981, the Potters took Harry to Wales.”

“What things in those books aren’t true?”

“Sometimes the books exaggerate things that Harry really has done. Please don’t ask for details.”

“But his family life in the books, is all that true?”

“It’s all true.”

“Those are all the questions I have, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome, Amelia! I look forward to beginning Susan’s magical education in a month.”

After Amelia’s face disappeared from the green flames, it occurred to Albus that telling fibs to the woman who was Director of the DMLE might have been unwise.

But Albus was not worried. He was sure that when he was eventually caught out by Susan or Hannah in a Harry Potter lie, Albus could fast-talk his way out of it. Albus was even less worried about Amelia causing him trouble. After all, Albus had no reason to believe that the Director of the DMLE might be investigating him.

****

A minute later
Hogwarts SOW&W, in the private potions laboratory of Severus Snape

Snape enjoyed the two months of summer that were between school terms. He was obligated to replenish Poppy Pomfrey’s stock of necessary potions, but after this, Snape was free to brew whichever potions he wanted to brew. Hopefully, inventing new potions in the process.

And the best thing about these two months? No young dunderheads to deal with!

From the next room, Snape’s office, Snape heard a woman’s voice calling from the floo fireplace, “Professor Snape? Professor Snape? Are you here?”

Snape put his current potion and its fire both under the Stasis Charm, grumbled about “old dunderheads,” then walked through the door to learn who wished to speak with him.

Snape knelt in front of the floo fireplace and stared in annoyance at the green woman’s face in front of him. “This is Professor Snape. Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m Amelia Bones, Director of the DMLE. Recently you met twice with Harry Potter. I wish to hear what you saw and heard.”

The Hogwarts wards did not allow anyone except the headmaster to invite someone to step through the floo. So instead, Snape asked Madam Bones, “May I come through?”

There were many things about Harry Potter’s treatment by the Dursleys and by the headmaster that Snape wanted to say to somebody—but Albus refused to listen. So why not tell those things to the Top Auror?

Less than a minute after stepping through the floo fireplace, Snape was talking to Madam Bones whilst an enchanted quill wrote down his words.

****

Later

As soon as Professor Snape stepped through the floo flames and left the DMLE for Hogwarts, Amelia took a hike through the Ministry of Magic building. Amelia carried a half-foot slip of parchment in her pocket.

Amelia walked into Wizard Child Services and asked about Harry James Potter. People there looked at Amelia blankly. Amelia asked to see the WCS folder on Harry James Potter. No such folder existed. Then the Director of the DMLE asked the Director of Wizard Child Services why there was no folder on Harry James Potter, Wizarding Britain’s most famous orphan. The answer was delivered in a monotone.

Amelia wound up escorting the Director of Wizard Child Services to Saint Mungo’s, so that the poor witch could get her mind-whammies removed. In the meantime, Amelia had given the Deputy Director of Wizard Child Services the little parchment that had been in Amelia’s pocket: Harry Potter’s home address in Surrey County, England.

****

A half-hour later
In hospital in the goblin village underneath Gringotts

Harry contracted with the goblin healers to get all of his magical blocks removed (magical core, animagus, metamorphmagus, and owl-mail-redirect). Harry also wanted his bones that were improperly healed, vanished and regrown with goblin Skele-Gro. Thirdly, Harry wanted the effects of starvation healed through nutrient and growth potions.

Harry figured he would be in goblin hospital for at least a day, because of his bones; and would be taking the goblin potions until at least 1st September.

Whilst in recovery, as his vanished bones were regrown, Harry got a letter from Gringotts (via Greyclay): “We found the item you pointed us to. It was just as you described. We separated the horcrux from the cup without harming the other magic on the cup, then put the cup in your trust vault. You turned down receiving an award, but Gringotts has given you an award anyway.

“You asked about other horcruxes. We have found four others; here are their approximate Apparition coordinates. Two of the four horcruxes are in places hidden under the Fidelius charm.”

Harry smiled. Now if Dumbledore asked Harry, “How did you find the horcruxes so fast?”, Harry could answer, “The goblins told me more or less where they were.”

****

That afternoon
In the office of Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic

Amelia Bones waved around several pieces of parchment. “Cornelius, tomorrow morning the Wizengamot meets in weekly session. Everyone expects a boring, normal session. I strongly urge you: Put Sirius Black on trial. When he is found innocent—which this evidence says he will—you’ll be a hero.”

“Hem, hem,” said the third person in the room, an ugly woman wearing all-pink. “Sirius Black already has been tried. And convicted. Rightly so. What you need to do, Amelia, is to send that evil criminal back to Azkaban. Actually, what he really needs is to be Kissed.”

“I agree,” Fudge said quickly. “Wizards and witches are counting on me to keep them safe.”

Amelia shook her head. “They’re also counting on you to find miscarriages of justice and to fix them. Millicent Bagnold”—the Minister for Magic ten years ago—“sent the Heir to an Ancient and Noble House to prison without a trial, when the evidence says he’s innocent. What’s to stop young Draco Malfoy, say, from winding up in Azkaban tomorrow? You standing tall, that’s what! Give Sirius Black a trial tomorrow, watch him be acquitted, and you’ll be a hero with the old families.”

Fudge said, “You really think Black will be acquitted? What’s your evidence?”

Umbridge opened her wide mouth: “Cornelius, you don’t want to show another Minister looking bad, because then magicals will start thinking that you make mistakes too!”

“Hush, Dolores. Give Amelia a chance to make her pitch.”

Amelia said, “Here’s the evidence: Ten years ago, Black’s wand was never checked for spells. When I tested his wand this week, I found many Point-Me spells and two Protegos—and no offensive spells. Ten years ago, Black never was interviewed, with or without Veritaserum—he went straight from arrest at the scene, to being thrown into Azkaban. He was never put on trial.”

“If he’s innocent, then who killed Pettigrew? Who killed those Muggles?”

“Black, under Veritaserum, says Pettigrew killed those Muggles. Black also is sure that Pettigrew is alive, because Pettigrew is an animagus. That night, Black said under Veritaserum, he saw Pettigrew turn into his form, which is a brown rat, and escape into the sewers.”

“Very well,” Fudge said, “tomorrow, Amelia, you may put Black—”

“I think you’re biased, Amelia,” said Umbridge, smiling cruelly. “Didn’t you and Black used to date? Wasn’t he your boyfriend? So of course you claim he’s innocent.”

Amelia sighed. “He was my boyfriend, yes. But today his voice was cold, and he never called me anything other than ‘Director Bones.’ But whether I’m biased or not, if Sirius Black is put on trial, he will walk free—which is what should have happened to him ten years ago.”

****

The next day (Friday, 2nd August, 1991)

The goblins had broken all the bindings on Harry’s magical core, except for the drain on his core which fed the Privet Drive wards. (Harry had told the goblins to leave this in place.) The goblins had vanished and had regrown—
• three ribs;
• Harry’s right upper arm and right shoulder;
• both of the bones in Harry’s left forearm; and
• two long bones in Harry’s left hand.

Harry’s trust vault now was G15 078 poorer, between the healing that had been done to him, and the sack that he was given that had six months’ worth of healing potions and nutrient potions in the sack.

Harry had Greyclay take him back to his bedroom at Privet Drive. But as soon as Harry and Greyclay arrived there, Greyclay apologetically elf-popped away. Greyclay returned, seconds later, with a Gringotts letter for Harry.

According to the letter, the goblins had completed audits both on Harry’s trust vault and on the Potter family vault. The coins in the trust vault were the same as what Gringotts’s records said were there; but from the Potter family vault, G107 000 was missing. I bet Dumbledore has it, Harry thought. The goblins promised to find the missing galleons and to put them back. We also promise to make the thief’s life miserable went unstated.

After reading the Gringotts letter, Harry grabbed his moneybag, and had Greyclay elf-pop him to the steps of Gringotts. From there, Harry walked to Flourish and Blotts, where he bought one copy of each of the seven Harry Potter books by Roy Locke. (Harry suspected that forty-eight hours from now, Roy Locke’s books no longer would be on offer; but whether this happened or not, Harry wanted to be able to give his solicitor a copy of every book.)

It amazed Harry, once again, that nobody in Flourish and Blotts recognised him as “Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived,” even when he was buying seven Harry Potter books.

As soon as Harry walked out of Flourish and Blotts, he told Greyclay to elf-pop him back to his bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive.

****

Half an hour later

Two owls were at Harry’s window.

One owl was Hedwig, with the latest letter from Hermione. Hermione did not understand what Harry had voluntarily hospitalised himself for, and was worried about him.

The other owl was from Amelia Bones, telling him that the trial of Sirius Black would start this morning in Courtroom Ten, at approximately 9:10. Harry glanced at his clock—the trial probably was already over.

****

Meanwhile, in Courtroom Ten of the Ministry of Magic

Albus Dumbledore was in a panic.

When he had learnt—after today’s session already had started—that Sirius Black would be put on trial today, Albus had tried to delay the trial indefinitely “so that the Wizengamot’s wise seat-holders could familiarise themselves with the new evidence.” In this, Albus was joined by Lucius Malfoy, who did not want Sirius freed either.

But Cornelius, who normally was indecisive (and easily bribed), was resolute today. “This wizard has been locked away in foul imprisonment for ten years. Should he have to wait another ten years whilst we dither?”

Then Albus tried to argue that “He’s innocent, but now he’s probably crazy and prone to vendettas, so let’s put him in the secure ward at Saint Mungo’s till he’s mentally healed.”

To which Cyrus Greengrass said sarcastically, “How is imprisoning an innocent Heir in hospital an improvement to sending him to prison?”

In the end, Sirius Black was acquitted and released and Amelia Bones gave her former Hogwarts boyfriend his wand back, right there in the courtroom. Sirius also was promised G100 000 in compensation for unjust incarceration, plus ten years of back pay as an Auror.

Albus followed, at a distance, as Sirius walked out of the courtroom and was waylaid by reporters. Albus overheard Sirius say that he now planned to voluntarily admit himself to Saint Mungo’s. Thankfully, Sirius did not mention Harry Potter, and none of the reporters mentioned the boy either.

With luck, Albus hoped, Sirius would never discover that his guardianship of Harry Potter was ten years overdue. With more luck, Harry Potter would not discover this either.

****

When Harry learnt that Sirius had been freed, he sent Axefrenzy a message (via Greyclay): “Sirius Black is my magical guardian now. Albus Dumbledore is not. Don’t wait for the Wizengamot to catch up.”

When Greyclay returned from this errand, Harry sent Greyclay off on another errand: to go invisibly to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, there to send a magically scrubbed message to Amelia Bones: “The traitor, murderer and rat animagus Peter Pettigrew is hiding at the home of Arthur Weasley, pretending to be the pet rat of Arthur’s youngest son, Ronald. None of the Weasleys know that ‘Scabbers’ is actually a Death Eater animagus.”

With this done, Harry returned his attention to the essay he was writing for the Daily Prophet and for Xenophilius Lovegood at The Quibbler, “What Kind of Life Has ‘the Boy Who Lived’ Lived?”—

The essay was easy to write, because Harry borrowed paragraphs from his previous letter to the newspapers and from his letter to Amelia Bones. Harry wrote many unflattering things about Albus Dumbledore—

“I’m told that the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, is my magical guardian. Really? If so, he’s shirking his job. In ten years, I’ve never once met him. When I needed the help of a magical adult, he was never there. He’s never told me, in person or in a letter, about the magical world or about my parents. What little I know about the magical world and about my parents, all comes from my mum’s Hogwarts diaries and from Professor Severus Snape.”

Harry also wrote many unflattering things about his Muggle relatives, “—n and —a and their son D—, whom I’m forced to live with in a Muggle house somewhere in the south of England.”

Harry also wrote, “By the way, the Roy Locke books that claim to be about me? They’re cover-to-cover lies. How could they be true? I never talked to a wizard or witch till nine days ago. Am I this great wizard, who defeated a powerful and evil wizard when I was fifteen months old, whilst my mum stood there helpless? NO. I don’t remember that night well (the thing I most strongly remember is a flash of green light), but I’m sure that I didn’t destroy Voldemort, my mother did. From reading Mum’s diaries, I can tell you: Mum was a genius. A Muggle-born, Parselmouth genius.”

All told, the essay would be explosive when it was published and, Harry hoped, would erase the twinkle from Dumbledore’s eyes.

With the essay, Harry also wrote a brief note informing each of the two newspapers that the other newspaper was being sent a copy of Harry’s essay, and reminding each newspaper that it had agreed not to trim or to change Harry’s words. Besides the essay, each newspaper would be given a certified copy of the will for each of Harry’s parents.

Friday afternoon, the 2nd of August, Harry sent off Greyclay yet again, to make deliveries to two newspapers.

****

Meanwhile, in a hospital room at Saint Mungo’s

“Again I say I’m sorry, Sirius,” Amelia said to the man in the hospital bed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Sirius Black did not speak for a time. Then he said, “At least you apologised, Director Bones. If you perchance see Dumbledore, tell him that I await his apology as well. Now, Director Bones, don’t you have work you need to do?”

Amelia wanted to kiss Sirius goodbye—but she suspected that he would turn his face away if she tried. Sorrowfully, she walked out of the room.

****

The next morning
Saturday, 3rd August 1991
The Great Hall, Hogwarts SOW&W

Albus was enjoying his breakfast—till owls delivered this morning’s Daily Prophet.

Merlin! The Prophet not only printed the words of the surprisingly well-spoken, eleven-year-old Harry Potter, but the newspaper also quoted from James Potter’s will and Lily’s will. How had the Prophet gotten those two documents, which Albus personally had sealed?

After the Hogwarts faculty read Harry’s piece in the Prophet, Minerva was furious with Albus. “You’ve lied to me about that boy from the start, you Sassenach! I told you ten years ago, ‘They’re the worst sort of Muggles,’ but did the great and wise Albus Too-Many-Names Dumbledore listen to me? No.”

Snape looked at Albus and said solemnly, “I tried to tell you a week ago that Potter was mistreated. But as usual, when my words disagreed with yours, you ignored them. I am curious, headmaster: When Potter comes to Hogwarts on First September, will you tell him to his face that he is mistaken about the past ten years, that actually his life was glorious? And if you do say such a thing, do you believe he will believe you?”

“But I’ve kept the boy safe! Safe from Voldemort, safe from Death Eaters!”

Flitwick steepled his fingers, gave Albus a grandfatherly look and said, “I am so disappointed in you, Albus.”

Albus fled Hogwarts then, looking for Harry. Albus had the naïve idea that he would persuade the boy to recant what he had written in the newspapers. The meeting did not go well—

****

Harry was at Number 4, in the back garden doing yardwork, when Albus walked up to him. Albus would have loved to take another look at Harry’s famous scar, but Harry was wearing work gloves and an old hat. Perhaps because of the bright sunshine, Harry was not wearing his glasses.

“Harry my—”

“Wow, wizards really are freaks, aren’t you?” Harry said. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look to someone Muggle-raised, Albus Five-Names Dumbledore?”

“Harry my boy, what you wrote about me in the Prophet was in error. I ask you to send them another essay in which you amend your earlier words, then make apology.”

“Wow, I finally get to meet my supposed magical guardian, ten years after you dumped me on the doorstep here! Are you here to tell me about my father, about his life and family? Are you here to tell me about my mother, about her life and family? Are you here to teach me wizard etiquette that Muggle-raised magicals often aren’t told till too late? No. You’re here to tell me”—Harry theatrically sniffled—“ ‘You said mean things about me and made me sad. You take all that back!’ Well, Albus Five-Names, I won’t rewrite and I won’t apologise.”

“Harry my boy, I am so disappointed in you. Your parents—”

“—are dead. So it’s easy to put words in their mouths, isn’t it? As for you being disappointed in me—somehow I’ll live with the shame.”

“Harry—”

“Look, you boot-sale Merlin, you’re keeping me from my gardening. If I take too long to perform any of my chores, my uncle will beat me. So leave.”

“Harry, I must insist that—”

“Leave, you bearded magical clown. I’m done with you.”

Frustrated Albus Apparated back to Hogwarts.

****

Two days later
Monday, 5th August 1991
In the Ministry of Magic

Harry met Madam Bones in her office; then together they walked to the elevator and rode the elevator down to Level Nine, the Department of Mysteries. In the Department of Mysteries’ Hall of Prophecies, Harry would grab the Prophecy and play it, and both he and Madam Bones would take notes.

This was the plan, anyway. As Harry and Madam Bones left the elevator on Level Nine, Harry said, “Pardon me for asking, Madam Bones, but you look sad. Is everything okay?”

Instead of answering, Madam Bones asked, “Has your godfather Sirius written you from Saint Mungo’s?”

“Yes, he owled me last night. I’m going to enjoy him being my guardian, because he’s such a funny man—but then, from reading my mum’s diaries, I already knew this.”

“How far have you read in your mum’s diaries?”

“Only through second year. Why?”

“When you get to her sixth year, she might mention me. Sirius and I started dating when he was in sixth year and I was in seventh. We dated steadily after that. In fact, he and I went on a date on the Wednesday before he was thrown in Azkaban.”

“This is great! Now that Sirius is free, you and he can go back to dating, and maybe you can marry? Then I’ll live with two married people who both are my guardians—for me, it’ll almost be like having parents again!”

“Not so fast, Harry. Sirius was sent to Azkaban ten years ago. I’m an Auror, I could’ve investigated his case at any time—but I didn’t. I didn’t investigate any of the evidence until after you wrote your letter on your eleventh birthday. As far as Sirius is concerned, you tried to get him free on the first day you could, whilst his supposed girlfriend sat in her chair for ten years.” Madam Bones added sadly, “I’m sure that Sirius now doesn’t want to marry me ever. And really, it’s my own fault. Enough—let’s go find your prophecy.”

In the Hall of Prophecies, Harry asked Unspeakable Croaker to tell him if there was a “trick” with how to listen to the prophecies. Croaker told Harry and Madam Bones that the orbs were magically protected so that the only people who could lift them off their stand were the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies, and the person or persons mentioned in the individual prophecy. Anyone else who touched the orb would be stricken with instant madness.

(Harry wondered, So in my previous lifetime, why didn’t Voldy walk in and claim the prophecy-orb himself? Why did he cook up his mad scheme involving me, Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters?)

Madam Bones’s comment, after she heard Croaker’s words? “Harry, I’ll lift you up if you need it, but I’m not fetching your prophecy for you.”

“Fair enough.”

Eventually, in Row 97, Harry “found” the prophecy labelled “S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D: Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter.” He and Madam Bones, together, listened five times to the Prophecy—

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”

Both Madam Bones and Harry wrote down exactly what the Prophecy said. But Harry, unlike Madam Bones, did not need the scrap of parchment; even before he had died this last time, he could recite the Prophecy in his sleep.

****

Four days later
Friday, 9th August 1991

In Courtroom Ten, Peter Pettigrew was charged with the crimes that Sirius Black had been sent to Azkaban for, ten years earlier. Pettigrew also was charged with being an accessory before the fact to the murders of James and Lily Potter and to the attempted murder of Harry Potter. Finally, Pettigrew was charged with being a Death Eater.

Pettigrew was found guilty on all counts. It was ordered that his Order of Merlin First Class be revoked, and that he be Kissed. Pettigrew lost his soul soon afterwards to a Dementor, there in the courtroom.

Sirius Black closely watched Pettigrew’s de-souling.

****

About three weeks later
Saturday, 31st August 1991
Gringotts

James’ and Lily’s wills were publicly read. Dumbles tried to shut down the reading—“These wills are sealed, by order of the Wizengamot.”

Axefrenzy gave Dumbledore a sharp-teeth smile. “In Gringotts your objection means nothing, wizard. The readings shall proceed.”

Dumbles then tried to get Harry excluded—“I’m his magical guardian, and I’m here, so there is no reason for Harry to be here.” Instead, at Harry’s request, it was Albus Dumbledore who was ejected from the room—by armed goblins.

Sirius Black was present at the readings. After the readings, he paid Gringotts for certified copies of James’ and Lily’s wills.

****

An hour later (still Saturday, 31st August)

Sirius Black petitioned the Wizengamot for the guardianship of Harry Potter that James and Lily Potter had wanted Sirius to have. Sirius, with his petition, included Gringotts certified copies of James Potter’s will and Lily Potter’s will.

Dumbledore was quick to file a written objection. He claimed that ten years in Azkaban has made Sirius crazy, so Sirius was unfit to be Harry’s guardian; and since he, Dumbledore, already was serving as Harry’s magical guardian, he should continue to do so.

Sirius’s written reply was made in under an hour: that Dumbledore’s guardianship of Harry was contrary to what both parents’ wills said, and so was illegal; and Dumbledore was trying to keep his illegal magical guardianship of Harry Potter so that he could continue to take money from Harry’s trust vault.

Harry Potter, though only eleven years and a month old, also submitted a written piece to the Wizengamot, this being in support of Sirius’s petition. “In ten years of being an orphan, I’d never met Albus Dumbledore till four weeks ago, after the newspapers printed an article I wrote about him, which made him look bad. Albus Dumbledore has proven himself to be a bad guardian. I want Sirius Black to be my guardian.”

****

Also on 31st August

Harry owled Snape, “I thank you again for the help and support you’ve given me. Tomorrow I’ll be Sorted, and there is a three-fourths chance I won’t go into Slytherin. If this happens, I hope that we can continue a relationship outside of Potions class.”

Snape owled back, “I am agreeable. Your mother would want this. Also, I have found you not to be a dunderhead.”

****

The next day
Sunday, 1st September, 8:30 a.m.

With a Bang! the Knight Bus stopped in front of the Granger house.

Harry stepped off the Knight Bus, hauling his freight (his school trunk and an empty owl cage). Harry was walking up the Granger driveway when the house’s front door flew open.

“Harry!” Hermione yelled, whilst showing a grin that was a mile wide. “Today is the day!”

Chapter 10: Not the Same Train Trip

Chapter Text

Ten minutes later
Sunday, 1st September, 8:40 a.m.

Harry was amazed that none of the Grangers, not even Hermione, remarked about what he had done with his hair this morning.

The Grangers plus Harry were in Dan Granger’s big BMW sedan, beginning the slog through traffic from Crawley (located a bit north of the English Channel and definitely south of London) to King’s Cross Station (in northwest London). The children’s school trunks were in the boot; the children themselves were in the back seat, with Hedwig’s empty cage resting on Harry’s lap. The mood amongst the four people was happy and excited.

Which was quite different from Harry’s previous lifetime, when Harry made his first trip to King’s Cross Station in the Dursley car, with angry Vernon Dursley driving. During that trip, not a word had been spoken during the drive.

Once the Grangers-plus got near King’s Cross Station, parking was a nightmare—Lily’s first-year diary had quoted her father making the same complaint. Yet by 10:17, two dentists and two children were standing on the platform for tracks nine and ten.

Emma asked, “So how do you get to...?” She knew better than to finish that sentence aloud.

Harry pointed to a solid-metal barrier between the tracks. “You run into that barrier. If you’re magical, Mum wrote that it’s not solid, it feels like cobwebs on your skin.”

Hermione looked torn. “Is it okay if we go through now? I want to board the train with plenty of time to spare—but Mum and Dad, I don’t want you to think I’m eager to get away from you.”

Harry said, “Why don’t I go first, since I already sort-of know what the process is? If you don’t follow me within a minute, I’ll come back for you.”

Harry passed through the magical barrier with no problem, then suddenly he saw the scarlet steam locomotive and its carriages. Few magicals were on Platform 9-3/4 at the moment, since the time now was forty-two minutes before the train would leave.

Hermione and her trunk came through the barrier about half a minute later. She took one look at the Hogwarts Express and said, “Brilliant.” She looked relieved.

Harry pulled Hermione away from where she and her trunk just had come through—on this side, the exit to the Muggle world was a wrought-iron archway with the words “Platform Nine and Three-Quarters” on top. But instead of pulling Hermione and her trunk towards the train, Harry pulled Hermione away from the train.

“Hermione,” Harry said, “before we are near other magical kids, and before we get to Hogwarts, I need to tell you two things.”

****

A second later

Harry pulled out his elder-wood-and-thestral-heartstring wand and cast “Muffliato,” intending for himself and for Hermione to not be overheard if anyone tried to listen in.

Also, Harry cast this particular spell to make a point.

Hermione gasped. “What was that spell you cast?”

“Muffliato. It’s a sixth-year spell—”

The question-bombing began: “Is this a spell in the diaries? How many spells do you already know? Why haven’t you taught me this?”

“Hermione,” he said. She quieted, though her face still was stormy.

Harry continued, “Two things I have to tell you now. First of all, from time to time I’ll know things—things that it is impossible that I know, yet I know them. It’ll drive you mad, and you’ll be desperate to know how I know X. But don’t ask. And especially don’t ask when anyone else can hear you asking.”

“Harry, why are you keeping secrets from me? I thought we were better friends than that.”

“I promise, I’ll tell you everything on your sixteenth birthday, 19th September 1995. I’ll even give you proof.”

Hermione asked, “Did my parents tell—?”

“Your parents have never told me your birthday. Your birthday is something else that I can’t know, yet I know it.”

Hermione looked confused now. “I don’t know what to say.”

Harry said, “I’ve one other thing to say to you here, then we’ll board the train. It’s something else that no way can I know this, yet I do—

“The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He left me on the Dursleys’ doorstep, instead of giving me to any of the magical people whom my parents wanted me to be raised by. He appointed himself my magical guardian, but has taught me nothing. However, over half a million pounds has gone missing from the Potter family vault, and I think he took it, but there is no proof yet. Anyway, rant over.

“Dumbledore isn’t kind and he isn’t caring, but he’s good at pretending he is. Everyone in the world, whether it’s Professor Snape or a Muggle-born firstie from Crawley, is just a chess piece to him. He feels no shame in moving you about the board to further whatever secret scheme he has. As soon as he realises that you and I are close friends, he’ll try to get you working against me—”

“Harry, I’d never betray you!” Hermione huffed. “Impossible!”

“Oh, he’ll never ask you to walk up and stab me in the back. He’s too subtle for such. No, he’ll say ‘Poor Harry is’—too stupid, too immature, too distraught, too something—‘and you must do X behind his back for his own good.’ That’s how you’ll know he’s trying to catch you in his web: the words ‘It’s for Harry’s own good’ and ‘We must keep this a secret from Harry.’ ”

Hermione looked unhappy now. “You don’t believe at all that Professor Dumbledore wants what’s best for you?”

“No, and there’s no doubt in my mind. If he were truly good and kind, he wouldn’t have left me with the Dursleys. As Chief Warlock, he would’ve ordered that Sirius Black be given a trial back in 1981.”

“I need to think about what you said.”

“One final thing I need to tell you. If Dumbledore asks you a question about me, tell him firmly, ‘Go ask Harry himself’ or ‘Go ask a professor.’ Don’t answer Dumbledore’s intrusive question. Another nasty quirk of his is that he’s greedy to know other people’s secrets—but the secrets he knows, he never tells.

“Now, let’s go board the train.”

As Harry dispelled the Muffle Charm, Hermione smacked him on the arm. “Will you at least tell me why, for the first time since I’ve known you, you’re wearing your hair in a pompadour?”

Harry grinned mischievously at his very best friend in two lifetimes. “Remember how freaked out you got when you realised that I didn’t have a forehead scar? I want several hundred people to also feel your confusion.”

****

As Harry and Hermione (and their freight) moved towards the train, they moved close to two Aurors. The tall, dark-skinned man in the Auror regular red robes was Kingsley Shacklebolt (though Harry pretended not to know this). The young woman standing next to Shacklebolt had grey robes, an Auror’s blue wand—and eyeball-stomping pink hair.

Harry asked her with a straight face, “Pardon me, are you Auror Cadet Nymph—Nympho—Nympho-dora Tanks?”

Shacklebolt chuckled as the now-red-haired woman snarled, “The name is Nymphadora—but don’t call me that, either! Call me ‘Tonks’! With an ‘o’! Now, what’s your business with me, first-year?”

“I’m Harry Potter. My grandmother was Dorea Black. Your mum is—she’s a constellation, she’s a constellation—”

“Andromeda. My mum is Andromeda Black Tonks. So you and her are related. Mum is a Healer at Saint Mungo’s; my dad is a law-wizard.”

“What does that mean? When someone lies in court, does he hit them with a spell?”

“No, you goofball! It means my father is a solicitor and barrister for legal stuff in the magical world.”

“Brilliant! I want to hire your dad.”

“Why? Why would an eleven-year-old need a law-wizard?”

Harry could not speak his real reason (because then Shacklebolt would tell Dumbledore to beware). Instead, Harry said, “You know those books by Roy Locke in the bookshop, about the supposed adventures of Harry Potter? Harry Potter and the Vampire Village and that lot? They’re all fake.”

“Fake, really?”

“Quite fake. ‘Dora Tonks is queen of England’ fake.”

“Too bad,” said Shacklebolt. “I like the idea of Queen Nymphadora the First.”

Tonks smacked him on the chest. “Worthless prat!”

Shacklebolt, standing next to Tonks, laughed as if he were Father Christmas. Then he said lowly, “I’m pleased to meet you, Harry Potter.”

Tonks peered closely at Harry’s face. “You’re really Harry Potter?” Her hair turned bright yellow, as her face showed a wide smile.

“Wait, what?” nearby childish voices asked. “Where’s Harry Potter?”

****

This was how Harry “met” many wizard-raised first-years—and “met” one Muggle-born first-year. Hermione had to explain to Justin Finch-Fletchley who “Harry Potter” was, and why him being here, now, was a big deal.

“Are you sure you’re Harry Potter?” Zacharias Smith said sceptically. “You’ve no scar.”

Hermione said, “This is definitely Harry Potter.”

“How do you know? I don’t know you. Are you a mu—Muggle-born?” challenged Smith.

“Lose the attitude, whoever you are,” Harry growled. “This is my best friend, Hermione.”

Hermione said, “I am Hermione Granger, daughter of New House Granger.” She curtsied to the mob of firsties—

—who went into shock. This was a proper wizard-etiquette self-introduction—done correctly by a Muggle-born.

(A Muggle-born who had borrowed two books on wizarding etiquette from her friend Harry, and who had read those books closely.)

The eleven-year-olds who now surrounded Harry and Hermione introduced themselves by the rules of wizard etiquette. The last to introduce himself was Zacharias Smith—

—who said, “You still haven’t convinced me you’re Potter.”

Hermione huffed. “He’s Harry Potter, don’t be silly. Professor Snape told me this boy is Harry Potter, and I’ve read three of his mum’s diaries.”

“What about the scar?” Millicent Bulstrode asked, looking confused.

Harry said, “I got the scar ten years ago, people. The scar healed.”

Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass shared a look. Then Daphne said, “Heir Potter, once the three of us grab a compartment, you’re welcome to sit with us during the trip to Hogwarts.”

Daphne was not so rude as to explicitly say that Hermione was not invited.

Harry replied, “Hermione and I plan to grab our own compartment, then we’ll drop in on everyone else during the trainride. See you later.”

As Harry started to move towards the train, with Hermione following, Harry called out, “Nice to meet you, Cousin Tonks! The pink hair is wicked!”

Minutes later, Harry and Hermione had claimed an empty compartment. Harry put his freight, and Hermione’s freight, in the overhead racks “the hard way”—without feather-light charms and without Wingardium Leviosa.

As Harry took his seat, Hermione said, “In three and half years’ worth of your mother’s diaries, she never mentions James Potter’s relatives’ names. I can’t imagine that Lily would write about such things in the three and a half years’ worth of diaries I haven’t read yet. So how did you know the name of that girl, her mum and your father’s mum?”

Harry grinned at her. “Would you believe, the Oracle of Delphi told me?”

Then Harry pulled out his wand. “And speaking of ‘Delphi knowledge’...” Harry wordlessly bespelled the compartment door, then put his wand away.

“Are you going to tell me what you just did?” Hermione asked.

“On your sixteenth birthday, yes.”

Hermione huffed.

Amazingly, neither Draco Malfoy nor Ron Weasley found Harry Potter’s compartment during the trainride, though they each searched hard to find it.

****

When the train had been rolling for a half-hour—long enough for Ron Weasley to give up trying to find Harry Potter and to park himself in a compartment somewhere else—Harry looked over at Hermione. Who now was reading a Muggle geology book.

****

The girl in front of him, the girl who sat in the compartment reading, was not quite twelve years old. But Harry remembered Hermione at eighteen.

It was during the horcrux hunt. Ron had deserted them. Harry and Hermione were in the wizard’s tent; outside the tent, it was raining. The Wizarding Wireless Network radio was playing music.

Harry and Hermione danced—a spur-of-the-moment activity. Harry ached to kiss Hermione. He got the distinct impression that she likewise wanted to kiss him.

Because Harry and Hermione were soulmates, amazing magic would have happened afterwards if they had kissed.

But because of the Loyalty (to Ron) potions in both their bloodstreams, they did not kiss.

Soon Ron returned, and was undeservedly forgiven. By the time, months later, when Harry walked out alone to face Voldemort, it was obvious that Hermione was Ron’s lapdog. Ron’s potioned lapdog, Harry found out after he died.

Ronald Bilius Weasley had a lot to answer for—even if right now, he could not even levitate a feather.

****

Harry cleared his throat. He said to eleven-year-old Hermione, “I’m headed out to visit all the compartments. Let all the other first-year students meet Harry Potter. Tell them that the real Harry Potter is not that boy with glasses and a scar, who vanquishes vampires when he’s not eating homemade apple pie in the blue palace he lives in.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Hermione smirked. “I wonder how many kids will look at you, the real Harry Potter, and say that you can’t be you because you don’t look like those book covers.”

“Hopefully, not many.” Then Harry looked at Hermione. “When I visit other firsties, I’d really like for you to come with me.”

“Oh? Why do you want me there?”

“Two reasons. One reason is quite Hufflepuff, and one is quite Slytherin—Salazar Slytherin. Hufflepuff first: I want to be loyal to you and to tell everyone, ‘This is Hermione, she’s my best friend, she’s brilliant in both senses of the word and my life is richer because she’s in it.’ ”

Hermione blushed and smiled, even as she asked, “What’s your Salazar Slytherin reason?”

“To let the blood-purity bigots know that yes, you’re a Muggle-born, but you’re a Muggle-born who is close to me, and whom I’ll fight to protect. By the way, Salazar Slytherin would be disgusted”—Harry almost said is disgusted—“by what Slytherin House has become.”

Hermione marked her place, closed her book and put it on the seat cushion. “Let’s go.”

****

Both George Weasley (closer to the door) and Fred Weasley (sitting next to Lee Jordan) were grinning at Harry. Together they held out a platter. “Here, innocent ickle firsties, have one of our special homemade candies.”

Hermione said primly, “No thank you. Sweets are bad for your teeth.”

Harry, grinning, said, “Likewise no thanks. Your reputation precedes you, Weasley Twins.”

Both twins put on faces of exaggerated disappointment.

George asked, “So if you’re real, Harry Potter, then the stories in those books must be real, right?”

Harry laughed. “I’m real, the last time I checked. Those books are cover-to-cover lies.”

George: “Gin-Gin will be—”

Fred: “—so disappointed.”

Percy sneered. “If those books are lies, why did you let them be published?”

Harry snapped, “Why did I let them be published? Let them? What kind of gormless pillock question is that?”

Perfect Prefect Percy got pissed off then, and looked like he would have docked points from Harry’s house if Harry had had a house then.

Ignoring Percy’s angry face, Harry continued, “Nobody asked me to tell my story, and nobody asked me if it was okay to use my name. However-much money those books make, all that money goes to the liar, not to me!”

The youngest Weasley male said, “So you’re already rich, but now you’re cheesed off because you’re not raking in even more money? That is, if you’re really Harry Potter. I see no scar, no glasses.”

Harry said, “What did you say your name was again? Bilious? Well, gosh, you’re right, Bilious, you caught me out. My real name isn’t Harry James Potter, it’s actually Fool Foodchomper. Come on, Hermione, let’s go.”

As Harry was shutting the compartment door, he heard Ron say, “I knew it!”

****

As soon as Harry shut the door to the Weasleys’ compartment, and Harry and Hermione were out in the carriage’s corridor, Hermione asked, “Why did you call the youngest redhead boy ‘Bilious’? He called himself ‘Ron Weasley,’ and the other boys called him ‘Ron.’ ”

“I called him ‘Bilious’ because One, his middle name is Bilius, B-I-L-I-U-S; and Two, bilious pretty much describes him, trust me.”

“But nobody in there called him that before you called him that. Is this more Delphi knowledge?”

With a sigh, Harry nodded. He’d been trying to score a cheap point off Ron, but he’d forgotten that Hermione was listening, and that Hermione had a mind like a supercomputer.

****

Harry opened up the compartment door and peered into the compartment. Harry saw Blaise Zabini, a homely brunette girl (Pansy Parkinson), two big boys (Crabbe and Goyle), and a boy with white-blond hair that was slicked back. Jackpot, Harry thought.

Harry looked at Draco and said, “Is it true? They’re saying all up and down the train that Draco Malfoy, Heir Malfoy, is in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

Draco puffed up. “I am he. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione snickered, then murmured, “Secret agent Double-Oh nine-and-three-quarters.”

Draco continued, “You have me at a disadvantage, sir. Who are you?”

Harry Potter introduced himself (as “Harry Potter, Heir Potter”), then bowed, then introduced “my best friend, Miss Hermione Granger of New House Granger.” Hermione curtseyed to the Purebloods. Draco properly introduced the other four first-years in the room to Harry and Hermione—though his introductions of Crabbe and Goyle clearly were halfhearted.

Then Pansy Parkinson curtsied to Harry and (clearly reluctantly) shook Hermione’s hand. Harry shook hands with the four future Slytherin boys. Each Pureblood boy kissed Hermione’s hand.

But now, with the obligations of etiquette out of the way, Pansy was free to be insulting: “Heir Potter, how can you be friends with a mudblood?”

Harry smiled. “Heiress Parkinson, I could just as easily ask, ‘How can I be friends with an ignorant inbred?’ Are you aware that these two words describe how the Muggle-born magicals see you Purebloods? Prone to genetic problems that cause problems with fertility and the birthing of Squib children, and laughably ignorant about the larger world?”

Draco said, “We Purebloods aren’t ‘inbred,’ we’re superior!”

“A funny thing about that, Heir Malfoy, Heiress Parkinson. My mother, Lily Evans, walked into Hogwarts, starting her first year, as a Muggle-born. Six years later, she walked into Hogwarts as Head Girl. Blood-purity doctrine says such is impossible, yet my mother did it. Then there was that little disagreement with Lord Voldemort on Halloween of 1981. Everyone gives credit to fifteen-month-old me, but I am convinced that somehow my mother defeated Voldemort.”

Pansy sneered, “ ‘Defeated’? Your mudblood mother died.”

“She did. But in the same room as her corpse, they found Voldy’s robes and Voldy’s wand, but no Voldy. Meanwhile, I was perfectly healthy, except for a scarred forehead.”

Draco took a breath to speak.

Harry continued, “And don’t try to tell me that Voldy didn’t try to use the Killing Curse on me, because I remember the green flash!”

Blaise asked, “Why are you here with us, Heir Potter?”

Harry replied, “First, to become friends with Draco Malfoy. I’m told that our Houses are enemies, so we might become enemies later in life; but as schoolboys, I want Draco and me to be friends. This is subject, of course, to the rule that, just as I don’t insult or otherwise disrespect Draco’s friends here in this compartment, Draco respects my best friend Hermione Granger.”

Seven people went silent as Draco stared intently at Hermione.

At last, Draco’s gaze shifted to Harry. “Agreed. Friends whilst we’re at Hogwarts, but no promises once we both leave Hogwarts or either of us becomes Head of House. I’ll respect your Muggle-born friend.”

Harry and Draco shook hands.

Blaise said to Harry, “You said ‘First.’ This implies a ‘Second.’ What’s your second reason for coming here?”

Harry’s grin was sharklike. “Blood-purity doctrine really offends me. It’s what he believed—the monster who killed my parents. I want to prove it’s wrong, so I want to make a bet.”

“What bet?” asked Draco.

Harry asked, “Am I correct that all five of you are considered to be Purebloods?” When all five future Slytherins nodded, Harry said, “Whoever of you wants to take the bet: At the end of the school year next June, I bet a hundred galleons of my money against a hundred galleons of yours, that Hermione will have higher marks overall than you.”

Hermione squeaked. Harry turned to her and said, “Relax, you’ve got this. And when I win, you’ll get half.”

Blaise asked, “What will you do if they cheat?”

Harry replied, “I trust that Professor Snape—or whoever your Head of House is—will keep you from cheating.”

In the end, Blaise wrote up a document about the bet, Draco, Pansy and Harry signed the parchment as participants, and Blaise and Hermione signed as witnesses.

“Merlin,” Draco breathed after all the signatures were written. “Wait till my mother hears about this. Her other sister married a Muggle-born.”

****

When next Harry and Hermione were giving their undivided attention to walking through the corridor in a train carriage, Harry found Neville Longbottom walking along the same corridor, with his eyes roving over the ground.

But Harry had to pretend he did not recognise Neville. “Hello,” he called out, “do you have a problem that we can help you with?”

“My toad, he’s escaped,” Neville said. “I’m looking for him.”

“That is a problem,” Harry said. “I’ll, erm, go and find a prefect. He or she should be able to help you.”

Hermione smacked his arm. “Honestly, Harry! Instead of you finding a phone booth to change in”—Neville’s face showed total confusion because of Hermione’s words—“let me handle this.” Hermione turned to Neville and asked, “What’s your toad’s name?”

“Trevor. He’s Trevor.”

Hermione waved her wand (correctly, of course) and called out “Accio Trevor the toad.”

Seconds later, Neville had his toad back.

Harry then asked him, “What’s your name?”

“Neville Longbottom, Heir Longbottom.”

Harry introduced himself and Hermione, then asked, “Are you related to Alice Longbottom?”

“She’s my mother. Why?”

“My parents wrote it in their wills that if a man named Sirius Black could not be who raised me, then Alice Longbottom was their second choice. Neville, we could’ve been brothers!”

Then Harry put his arm around Neville’s shoulders, and all but dragged the boy back to Harry’s and Hermione’s compartment. “Neville, I need to get to know you! I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted a brother.”

“Me too,” Neville said.

****

Hours later, in dark Hogsmeade Station

As Harry and the other first-years were attempting to gather round Hagrid and his raised lantern, Ron Weasley sidled up to Harry. “My brothers convinced me you really are Harry Potter. You and I are going to be best mates in Hogwarts.”

“No way, Bilious,” Harry snarled.

A legs-sweep—it is such an easy martial-arts move to learn, Harry learnt it from Godric Gryffindor, and practised it to expert level, in three minutes. Ever better, it leaves no magical signature. Best of all: Right here, right now, it was dark outside. So in no time at all, Ron was flat on his back—

But he promptly jumped back up. When Hagrid was loading Harry, Hermione and Neville into their boat, Ron was headed towards that same boat with a determined stride.

But Harry was likewise determined; he held out his hand to Millicent Bulstrode. “Miss Bulstrode, please join us.”

As Millicent stepped into the boat, Ron yelled, “Get out of the boat, troll! I’m sitting there.”

Harry said, “No you’re not. The boat is full now, Bilious, so sorry.”

During the boatride, Harry listened to the others ooh and ahh. Harry did not need to fake his own amazement; Hogwarts Castle at night, seen from the boats, was an amazing spectacle—even seen the second time.

As the four first-years were stepping out of the boat, Millicent asked Harry, “You preferred riding in the boat with me, who’s from a Grey family, to riding with Ron Weasley, who’s from a Light family? The Potters have been Light for centuries.”

Harry chuckled. “Correction: I preferred riding with you, who seems like a nice person, to Ron Weasley, who is an utter berk.”

As soon as Harry was out of his own boat, he made friendly greetings to the other first-years who had already arrived, or were arriving seconds later: “Now the fun starts, Justin. I hope you get the House you want, Heiress Greengrass. Chin up, Heir Malfoy, make your parents proud. Neville my godbrother, the Sorting will be a piece of cake for you—relax. You two Patil girls from India, your real adventure starts in a few minutes.”

Harry ignored Ron, pretending he did not see him.

Zacharias Smith was nasty and rude—Harry wanted to hex him, but smiled like a car salesman instead.

All the other children relaxed a bit. Harry Potter clearly was not worried about the Sorting, so why should they be?

Hermione Granger and Professor McGonagall, each for her own reasons, looked at Harry in amazement.

****

Minutes later, in the Entrance Hall

The firsties were waiting for Professor McGonagall to return and to start the Sorting. Everyone except Harry looked nervous—Neville and Draco looked especially nervous.

Harry spoke loudly: “At least one kid here is worried that he or she won’t match any House, that he or she will be sent home on the train. Don’t worry, I won’t ask for a show of hands.”

Harry heard much nervous laughter.

Harry continued, “But don’t worry, an hour from now, we’ll all have Houses, and we’ll all be eating a delicious dinner.”

Zacharias Smith snarled, “Yeah? How do you know, Potter? You’re a first-year like the rest of us!”

Harry’s smile was soft, calm. “My mum kept a diary during her first year in Hogwarts. Nobody got sent home during her Sorting, so I figure us fifty or so kids all are safe. Bottom line? Relax, you’ll sail through this.”

The rest of Harry’s yearmates looked calmer now. Hermione smiled at Harry, looking proud of him.

****

Harry thought back on what he had just done, speaking up to reassure the other first-years. Harry thought, I’m quite a different person than during my last lifetime.

In his last lifetime, Harry in Hogwarts wanted to be “just Harry,” but this never happened. He was famous at eleven, which was why both Ron and Draco sought Harry out on the firstie train. And in the years after the firstie train, sometimes Harry was praised and admired, and sometimes he was insulted and scorned, but never, not for one minute, was Harry ignored. In 1998, few of Harry’s yearmates had an opinion on what sort of person Morag MacDougal was, but the entire school had opinions on what sort of person Harry Potter was.

Then during his fifth year, Harry formed and ran Dumbledore’s Army. “Just Harry” did not want to be the one in charge—Hermione all but nagged Harry into taking the job—but Harry discovered that he excelled at teaching other students, and he excelled at leading students.

Now in 1991, with Voldemort skulking about, Harry’s yearmates needed a leader. In this lifetime, Harry resolved, he would be their leader, from the very beginning.

****

A bit later, in the Great Hall

The Sorting was in progress.

“Goldstein, Anthony,” McGonagall called out.

A half-minute later: “RAVENCLAW!” the Sorting Hat shouted.

“Goyle, Gregory.”

Five seconds after the Sorting Hat went on the boy’s head, the Hat yelled out, “SLYTHERIN!”

“Granger, Hermione.”

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. Harry chuckled.

In Harry’s previous lifetime, Hermione had caused a hatstall, followed by a Sorting into Gryffindor. This time, no hatstall happened; the Sorting Hat’s announcement came quickly.

Chapter 11: Surprises during the Sorting

Chapter Text

“Granger, Hermione,” Professor McGonagall called out.

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand, then watched her run to the stool. Unsorted Su Li called out, “Good luck, Hermione!”

Hermione did not wait for Professor McGonagall to place the Hat on the girl’s head with dignity; instead, Hermione grabbed the Hat off the stool and jammed the Hat on her head, even as she sat down on the stool.

Fifteen seconds after the Sorting Hat went on Hermione’s head, the Hat yelled out, “RAVENCLAW!”

At the moment, Harry was surrounded by between twenty and thirty unsorted firsties, who now looked at him for a cue how to react.

“Whoo-hoo for Hermione!” Harry yelled, as he clapped enthusiastically. “Perfect choice!”

The unsorted firsties, with one ginger-haired exception who was shunned by the group, all smiled and clapped along with Harry. Hermione, her robes now blue and bronze, curtsied to Harry and the other unsorted firsties, before she walked towards the Ravenclaw table.

Interestingly, just before Hermione took her seat on a Ravenclaw bench, Justin Finch-Fletchley stood up at the Hufflepuff table and bowed to her; and Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis all stood up at the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables and curtsied to Hermione. (Hermione, of course, curtsied back.)

****

As six first-year students bowed and curtsied to each other in the midst of the Sorting, Albus had to work not to show a scowl.

In most years, the unsorted first-years formed themselves into two lines—boys in one line, girls in the other. But occasionally the unsorted first-years formed a clump—and always at the centre of the clump was a charismatic student. This had happened two years ago, and the charismatic student had turned out to be Cedric Diggory—so even before Cedric put the Sorting Hat on his head, he showed Dumbledore that he was a natural leader.

Now, the evidence of Albus’s own eyes told him that this Muggle-born girl, Hermione Granger, either had charisma or was closely connected to someone who had charisma. Dumbledore dismissed the second possibility immediately—if this Granger girl had had a wizarding-world relative, Minerva would have mentioned it.

Which meant that now Dumbledore was looking at a charismatic Muggle-born. Horrors! Such a student would be a disaster for the Greater Good! She would push for changes, and get those changes, far sooner than Dumbledore felt to be wise. (Any and all major changes that happened during Dumbledore’s lifetime were too soon to be wise, he felt.)

The Greater Good demanded that this girl’s charisma be blunted, and that her optimism for the future be reduced.

Fortunately, the House of Slytherin had many people who were eager to explain the cold realities of Wizarding Britain to a Muggle-born eleven-year-old girl. And all Albus needed to do was to stand aside and to let events play out.

On the other hand, if Albus were to “rescue” the poor bullied girl, then were to ask her to use her charisma to mould Harry Potter for his own good, the girl could be quite useful.

****

As Albus watched Cyrus Greengrass’s daughter be Sorted, he wondered why Ronald Weasley was outside the clump of unsorted first-years. Looking more closely at the clump, Albus noted in confusion that the eleven-year-olds in the clump still were attentive and energised; always before, after the charismatic student was Sorted, the clump as a whole lost interest in the Sorting.

As minutes passed, and the clump lost children, Albus kept looking for the boy with messy black hair, bright-green eyes, glasses, and the famous lightning-bolt scar. Albus did not see him, yet Severus had assured Albus that Harry Potter would board the Hogwarts Express. Albus was puzzled.

Albus was even more confused when, ten minutes after Granger’s name had been called, Minerva called out “Potter, Harry!”—but Harry Potter did not step away from the clump.

Instead, a boy who was obviously a relative of Draco Malfoy’s walked towards the stool: this boy had black hair, which was combed back in a pompadour to expose an unmarked forehead; and this boy wore no glasses.

Judging by the smiles, waves and words of encouragement by the children left behind in the clump, this boy, not Miss Granger, was the charismatic child who held the clump together.

The older children, second- through seventh-years, were murmuring in confusion, “Where is Harry Potter? That can’t be him, right?”

“Who is that?” little Filius Flitwick asked. “Did Harry Potter hire a substitute for his Sorting?”

Albus looked over at Severus—who was looking back at him, and smiling. That smile said, You think you’re more clever than everyone else? You never even considered the possibility that Harry Potter would look different from those worthless books, did you?

Then a childish voice from amongst the Ravenclaw first-years called out, “Good luck, Harry!”

The returned Great Hall students gasped, then exploded into hundreds of conversations at once.

It was Miss Granger who had spoken, and the pompadoured boy bowed to her. Then the pompadoured boy turned to face Albus head on.

Albus knew Harry Potter was short and skinny; this boy was neither. But the boy looked at the headmaster with Lily Potter’s green eyes and with James Potter’s most frightening smile.

James sometimes had worn a particular smile when running a time-delay prank. That smile always had meant Everything seems quiet and peaceful now, but things won’t stay quiet and peaceful for long.

The boy then spoke loudly (without benefit of a Sonorus): “Remember, headmaster, you accepted me here.”

With those words, the boy picked up the Sorting Hat, turned his back on Albus, and sat down on the stool.

Five seconds later, the Sorting Hat yelled in shock, “MERLIN!”

****

The Sorting Hat had barely started reading Harry’s memories when the Hat blurted out, “MERLIN!”

Then the Hat said in Harry’s mind, “You’re from the future? And dead?”

“Correction: I was dead. I’m much healthier now. I’ve cut back on high-cholesterol foods, sweets and green spells.”

Then Harry’s mind-voice turned serious: “I wasn’t dead for long, but I ask you to read those memories of when I was dead—especially my memories of the end of the planning session.”

“Sure, I’ll read them now,” the Hat said.

****

Seven walking, talking dead people were in the conference room next to Gerhardus’s office: the four Hogwarts founders, both of Harry’s parents, and Harry (who was leading the planning session).

The planning session was wrapping up when Godric and Rowena looked at each other and nodded. Then all four founders walked away from the round table, to confer in a corner of the room. Nobody was becoming angry about whatever the others were saying, so the four voices were quiet; thus Harry had no clue what the founders were talking about.

Then the founders walked back to the table. They stood side by side as they all faced Harry. Four voices said at the same time, “Harry James Potter, tell the Spirit of Hogwarts that the Founding Four declare you to be our Designated Secret Substitute.”

Then Godric smiled reassuringly at Harry. “It’s a way to bypass the headmaster’s stupidity and to save the lives of your fellow students. The Sorting Hat will explain things to you.”

****

Now Harry mind-spoke to the Hat. “So explain. Let me see if my guess is correct.”

“The Designated Secret Substitute was an emergency plan that the Founders never expected to use. If the day came when the headmaster was causing harm to the school, and the deputy headmaster was unable or unwilling to stop or to blunt the headmaster’s misdeeds, then the founders reserved the right to give someone at the school the authority to override the headmaster’s wishes—to act in place of the founders. But know that the founders expected to give this authority, if the need arose, to a professor, not to a time-travelled student.”

“What can I say? I’m always full of surprises. How much authority are we talking about?”

“Anything from canceling the awarding or docking of house points, on up to sacking the headmaster and deputy headmaster both.”

Harry choked. “Blimey. So yeah, I have authority.”

“You could rework the castle wards, if you wished, to keep out left-handed people.”

“I think if the Hogwarts wards were reworked to keep out anyone, I’d faint in shock. Voldemort, his Death Eater minions and illegal animagi all could stroll into the castle whenever they wished, during the last seven years of my memory.”

The Hat said, “Anyway, once you tell the Spirit of Hogwarts your commands, whatever you command will happen within the castle.”

Harry said, “I’ve one last thing to say about the Spirit of Hogwarts for now. By the contract I signed with Thanatos, I’m forbidden to tell the Spirit of Hogwarts that I’m from the future and what my mission is; but now that you’ve mind-read the information out of my brain, nothing stops you from telling the Spirit of Hogwarts these things.”

The Sorting Hat laughed in Harry’s head. “Aren’t you cunning! I promise to tell the Spirit of Hogwarts everything that I learnt about you today. My ‘Don’t tell anyone a thing!’ rule applies only to the headmaster and other living beings, not to the Spirit of Hogwarts.”

****

Harry mind-said, “Since I’ve been given the responsibility to secretly run Hogwarts, I need to plan out how to do so. In the meantime, may I make some suggestions about this Sorting? Not my Sorting, other people’s Sorting.”

“Do you realise that we’re well on our way to an epic hatstall?” Silence from Harry. The Hat said, “Fine, you want to make suggestions? Like the headmaster’s ‘suggestion’ that I put you in Gryffindor?”

“Yes, like that. Since I’ve come from seven years in the future, I strongly urge you to put Zacharias Smith and Ronald Weasley this year, and Ginevra Weasley next year, all in Slytherin.”

Then Harry was compelled to involuntarily remember every interaction he ever had had with Ron, Ginny and Zacharias Smith.

“Done!” the Hat said. “Ron Weasley truly is a loathsome wizard, isn’t he? It should be fun putting him in the same dorm as Draco Malfoy for the next seven years.”

“Hopefully Draco will reform. I have no such hope for Bilious.”

“Now to decide, where to send you. Share your thoughts.”

“You’re not going to use whatever rules that the founders gave you, plus a thousand years of experience, to decide by yourself where to put me?”

The Sorting Hat laughed in Harry’s head. “All the normal rules for Sorting go out the window when a time-traveller shows up.”

“Which means what for me, exactly?”

“Which means, where do you want to go?”

“Didn’t you mention that Twinkle-Eyes wants me in Gryffindor? Let’s make him cry. But mainly I have to consider Hermione.”

Two seconds later, the Sorting Hat yelled, “RAVENCLAW!”

From the Head Table, Harry heard the headmaster yell, “WHAT?”

The Weasley Twins said mournfully, “We lost Potter?”

Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table, to shake hands with Neville and to slap him on the back. Then Harry headed for Hermione.

Before Harry sat down on the Ravenclaw bench, Hermione jumped up and gave him a long and strong Hermy-hug in front of the entire Great Hall.

****

Two minutes later, Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff in Harry’s previous lifetime, was Sorted into Slytherin. Smith did not take it well.

But then, Zacharias Smith had not taken anything well in the seven years that Harry had known him.

****

Two minutes later

Professor McGonagall called out, “Weasley, Ronald.”

Even from so far away, Harry could tell that Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling.

As soon as the Hat went on Ron’s head, the Hat scoffed, “You, be Sorted into Ravenclaw, Mr Weasley? I’d sooner Sort Rita Skeeter into Hufflepuff! No, for you, better be SLYTHERIN!”

“We don’t want him!” Draco yelled.

From the Gryffindor table, Harry heard, “Bloody hell! Mum will—”

“—go spare!”

Ron yanked the Hat off his head and threw it on the floor, even as his robes turned to green and silver. “I want a Re-Sort!”

Dumbledore stood up and, eyes twinkling, said, “I agree, Hat. Surely you can allow Mr Weasley another turn.”

The Hat said, “I remind you of the founders’ rule, headmaster: Re-Sorts happen only when I say, for whom I say, and both decisions are mine, not yours. There will be no re-Sorting of this boy.”

Snape stood up and said, “Mr Weasley! You have fifteen seconds to walk over and to sit down at the Slytherin table”—Snape helpfully pointed it out—“or you will serve detention with me tomorrow night, during dinner!”

Harry saw that Ron’s ears were red the entire time, and he was scowling, but he hurried to sit amongst Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, Theodore, Daphne, Millicent and Tracey—

—who all directed Ron, with slaps and punches, to sit at the very end of the table. Not much food was within reach there.

When Blaise Zabini was Sorted into Slytherin, Harry watched as Draco, Pansy and Daphne organised a place for Blaise to sit amongst them; but Ron still was forced to sit at the end of the Slytherin table.

****

Seconds later

Millicent Bulstrode was loading up her plate when Sam Flint, a third-year Slytherin, looked down the Slytherin table. He said, “So, firsties, some of you must have met the mysterious Harry Potter. What’s he like?”

Bilious said (from the end of the table), “Potter’s an attention-seeking git.”

“Be silent, Weasley,” said Pansy. “Nobody wants to hear from you.”

Millicent said, “There’s one thing you should know about ‘Bilious’ here. When we were getting in the boats, Bilious wanted so much to sit with Heir Potter that he tried to order me out of the boat, so he could sit with Heir Potter. This, after Heir Potter invited me to sit with his friends. I’ll bet Bilious got on the train carrying his big autograph book and his special autograph quill, hm?”

Weasley’s ears were red. He was scowling.

“Who’s Bilious?” asked someone wearing green.

Millicent answered, “It’s what Heir Potter called Weasley.”

Sam Flint asked Weasley, “Why does he call you ‘Bilious’?”

Bilious ate and glared, instead of answering.

A third-year Slytherin girl asked Millicent, “When Potter invited you into his boat, did you think he fancied you?”

“No way,” Millicent replied. “He’s friends with a Muggle-born girl, Hermione Granger, and those two are close.”

“Wait,” a boy said, “Potter is the last of his line, and the Heir to an Ancient and Noble House, and he’s close friends with a mudblood?”

“He is. You see my cousin Daphne over there, with the face like a goddess? She offered to share our compartment with him during the trainride, and Heir Potter turned Daphne down—he said he and Granger would find their own compartment.”

Blaise Zabini said, “To Heir Potter, Granger isn’t just any Muggle-born—Potter hates the other term, by the way. On the train, Heir Potter made a bet about Granger’s smarts. Draco, do you want to tell everyone about the bet?”

Bilious said, “If she’s a mudblood, she can’t have any smarts.”

Draco said, “Shut up, Bilious,” without even looking in Weasley’s direction. To the rest of the Slytherin table, Draco said, “Heir Potter bet Pansy and me each a hundred galleons that at the end of the year, Granger would have higher marks overall than we would.”

“Impossible!” Flint declared. “She’s a mudblood!”

“Impossible?” Draco made the rocking-hand gesture. “Before I boarded the train, I would’ve agreed with you. But Heir Potter reminded me that his mother was Muggle-born, then he told me that seventh year, his Muggle-born mother was Head Girl.”

Millicent heard gasps.

Draco said, “But this isn’t the part that knocked me flat.”

“Don’t keep us waiting, Malfoy,” Daphne growled.

Draco said reluctantly, “Heir Potter believes that it wasn’t he who killed the Dark Lord, it was his Muggle-born mother.”

Up the Slytherin table, Millicent heard gasps, and mutterings of disbelief.

Draco continued, “By the way, I made a friendship-pact with Heir Potter. As part of this, I only say Muggle-born now, not the other word.”

A second-year Slytherin boy asked, “Why do you firsties keep calling him ‘Heir Potter’? You firsties don’t call Mr Malfoy ‘Heir Malfoy.’ ”

Millicent said, “Because Heir Potter went from the front of the train to the back, and introduced himself and Miss Granger to every other first-year. Before the Sorting, he was relaxed, and he tried to relax the rest of us when we were nervous. I use the respectful title because, even though he’s only eleven like the rest of us, he seems to know what he’s doing.”

All the other Slytherin firsties nodded, except for Bilious.

****

A minute later

Harry and Hermione were eating at the Ravenclaw table, and were learning more about their new Housemates. Harry saw Sam Flint (third-year Slytherin) and Millicent Bulstrode stand up and walk to where the Ravenclaw firsties were eating.

Whilst Flint stared at Hermione like she were a three-headed dog, Harry said, “Good evening, Millicent! I hope things are going well with you. Are you liking Slytherin?”

The big girl grinned. “I am, Heir Potter! It’s a good fit for me. And it sounds like Professor Snape, our Head of House, fights for us.”

Harry nodded. “Professor Snape is a good man.”

Up the table, some Ravenclaw dropped his/her fork. Someone else at the Ravenclaw table spit out the mouthful of pumpkin juice he/she just had sipped.

“He is definitely a good man,” Hermione agreed. “Professor Snape has helped Harry a lot.”

A second-year Ravenclaw, looking confused, stammered, “But Potter isn’t in Slytherin.”

Meanwhile, Flint looked at Millicent and cleared his throat. Millicent said to Harry, ‘This is Sam Flint, in third year. He and some others at the Slytherin table were wondering why you call Ron Weasley ‘Bilious.’ ”

Harry replied, “Because first of all, it’s his name: Ronald Bilius Weasley, B-I-L-I-U-S.”

Flint looked sceptical.

Harry said, “Mr Flint, after you finish with me, go ask the Weasley Twins, since they’re third-years too.”

“I believe you, Heir Potter,” Millicent said.

Harry said, “The second reason I call him ‘Bilious’ is that the dictionary definition of bilious is—any other Ravenclaw want to take this? Hermione already knows the definition.”

Terry Boot said, “Having a peevish, ill-natured disposition; or sickeningly unpleasant.”

Harry smiled at Boot, then looked at the Slytherins. “This describes Weasley perfectly, I think. After the few times I had to deal with him during and after the train, all I could think of was ‘How do I put a hundred miles between me and this git?’ ”

“Okay, Heir Potter, thank you,” Millicent said.

The two Slytherins walked over to the Gryffindor table and spoke briefly with clearly unhappy ginger-haired twins, as another ginger-haired boy acted pompously. Then the two Slytherins returned to their table.

(From this hour forwards, for the rest of Harry’s second seven years at Hogwarts, only professors called Ron “Mr Weasley,” and only his family called him “Ron.” All students outside the Weasley family, regardless of House, regardless of year, called Ron “Bilious.”)

****

A half-hour later

“...And finally,” the headmaster said to the full-stomached students, “I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

Fortunately, Harry thought sarcastically, students are safe from all this death and pain, protected by first-year spells.

Dumbledore continued cheerfully, “And now before we go to bed, let us all sing the school song!”

Three minutes later, only the Weasley Twins still were singing the school song; they had set it to a funeral dirge.

At the Head Table, Snape stood up and removed a folded parchment from his pocket. He unfolded the parchment. “If I may, headmaster, I wish to say something to all of the students. It will take two minutes.”

The twins stopped singing. Dumbledore looked surprised and confused, and almost all of the other professors looked surprised and confused as well—only Professor Flitwick seemed unsurprised.

Dumbledore smiled at Snape. “Please.”

Snape looked across the room and into Harry’s eyes, before turning his gaze to the parchment in his hands—

“In the past, I have been a nightmarish teacher: showing blatant favouritism towards students of my House, and in many ways showing disfavour to students of other Houses. It was shown to me this summer that a close friend of mine, now dead, would be angry with me if she saw my disgraceful teaching.”

Harry caught McGonagall looking at him.

Snape continued, “You students deserve better than how I have treated you, and to all of you students who are second-year and older, I humbly apologise to you for my conduct in Potions class.”

The entire Great Hall was silent. Professors and students both—all looked gobsmacked.

Snape continued, “Potions is a dangerous class for accidents. Potions accidents can hurt you or another student, or can kill you. The three main causes of Potions accidents are One, being a dunderhead who fails to follow the instructions on the board; Two, tomfoolery whilst brewing a potion; and Three, sabotaging another student’s potion. Up till now, I have been remiss when punishing Slytherin students who sabotage potions of students in another House, but tonight I tell you that such favouritism ends now. Anyone who sabotages another student’s potion in Potions class will be sent to talk to the headmaster, with me recommending suspension, regardless of House.”

All the Slytherins looked angry, whilst three Houses, and all the other professors, applauded. Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised looks.

Dumbledore looked annoyed.

Then Snape dropped another bombshell: “I intend to continue teaching upper-years Potions classes and to continue as Slytherin Head of House, but I now resign as Potions professor for first through fourth years. I—”

Snape could no longer be heard over the cheering and clapping. Dumbledore had to fire a cannon charm in an attempt to silence the room. But silence came slowly.

“Poor man,” Hermione said. “The entire room is cheering him quitting half his job.”

A Ravenclaw second-year snapped, “You haven’t had Potions with Mr ‘The instructions are on the board’ yet, or you’d cheer too.”

Snape stood there, neither his expression nor his posture changing, whilst he waited for the noise to die down. At last he said, “I have already contacted Healer Andromeda Black Tonks about teaching lower-years Potions. She is qualified and she is willing, if the position is offered to her.”

Now Dumbledore was scowling. This was a surprise to Harry—the “kindly grandfather” never wore any expression but a smile.

****

The entire time that Harry was in the Great Hall, whenever he looked over at the High Table, he discovered Quirinus Quirrell looking back at him. Harry ignored Quirrell. Harry had plans for Quirrell—and Quirrell’s red-eyed stowaway—but not tonight.

In Harry’s expensive magical trunk, he had packed his seventeen pages of notes and plans, his Haroldus Cyrus Potter wand and his Invisibility Cloak, all under Parseltongue Notice-Me-Not charms. In short, Harry had the plans, and Harry had the means, for dealing with Quirrellmort.

****

After dismissal from the Great Hall

Gryffindor and Slytherin, two Houses otherwise quite different, used the same trick to get into their respective common rooms: a password. Ravenclaw was different. Harry and Hermione, along with the other Ravenclaw firsties, were shown that to enter the Ravenclaw common room, they had to answer a riddle that was asked by the eagle door-knocker. (The door had no doorknob, door lever or keyhole, so there was no “Plan B” if someone did not try to answer the riddle.) If someone could not answer the riddle, he or she had to wait for someone to come along who could answer the riddle.

This week’s riddle: “What gets wet as it dries?” The riddle answer: “A towel.”

****

Whilst Harry and Hermione were in the Ravenclaw common room, being addressed by Filius Flitwick, Severus Snape was speaking to seven years’ worth of Snakes in the Slytherin common room.

Most of what he said was no surprise. But two things were definitely a surprise—

“Whatever problems that you have with Weasley, and whatever problems that Weasley has with you, they stay here in Slytherin House. Once you walk out of our common room, all Slytherins present a united front. This is Rule One.”

(Pansy glared at Ron and said lowly, “But we’re still calling you ‘Bilious.’ ”)

The other surprising thing that Snape said in the Slytherin common room? “Harry Potter is not in Slytherin, but do not mistreat him, or you will anger me. His Muggle-born friend is off-limits too.”

Hearing this, Ron scowled and his ears turned red.

Chapter 12: First Day of Classes

Chapter Text

The next morning
Monday, 2nd September, after breakfast
The second day of term

Professor Flitwick just had passed out timetables for the Ravenclaws when owls descended with owl-mail. Harry was surprised when an owl delivered a letter from Andromeda Tonks to him.

“You got a letter, Harry?” asked Hermione. Her face looked like she was bursting with curiosity. “After less than twenty-four hours here? Who’s it from?”

“Remember Auror Cadet Tonks? With the pink hair? Remember that I’m related to her? This letter is from her mum, Andromeda Tonks.”

Cho Chang said, “You’re related to Tonks, the mad metamorphmagus Hufflepuff? I’ve heard many rumours about her. But she won’t be boring, I guarantee you.”

A Ravenclaw boy asked Harry, “If Andromeda Black Tonks mentions anything about teaching Baby Potions, will you please share—?”

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!” A Howler was screaming its paper lungs out at the very end of the Slytherin table. “WE RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! HOW CAN YOU BE PUT IN THE EVIL HOUSE—?”

Snape had run from the High Table to the end of the Slytherin table. Now, even before his feet stopped moving, he pointed his wand at the Howler. “Incendio.” The Howler burnt to ash.

With Ron Weasley’s Howler cremated, everyone in the Great Hall could clearly hear the other yelling Howler: “—CALL YOURSELF A HEADMASTER? POOR RONALD HAS BEEN OBVIOUSLY MISSORTED, PROBABLY AS A PRANK, BUT YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING! NOTHING! FIX THIS AND PUT RONALD IN GRYFFINDOR WHERE HE BELONGS!”

Dumbledore waited for the Howler’s entire message to play out, then he calmly vanished the exploded bits of the Howler. His eyes were twinkling; clearly he found the entire incident to be funny.

Or more likely, he wanted everyone to think he found the whole episode funny.

Snape, who was walking back to the Head Table, declared, “Gryffindors permit a mother to publicly humiliate her child, but in Slytherin, this shall not be tolerated.”

McGonagall made no reply, but pressed her lips together in anger.

After Snape sat down, Hermione blurted, “What just happened?”

A second-year Ravenclaw boy answered, “The screaming red thing was a Howler, a specialised sort of owl-mail. Hope that you never get one! The foghorn voice you heard—twice!—is Mrs Weasley. Last year she sent the Twins a Howler about once a month.”

Hermione asked, “The headmaster allows this? It’s bullying!”

Harry said, “The headmaster allows many things, including bullying. I should know.”

The Ravenclaw firsties, except for Hermione, pressed Harry to explain his statement, but he refused. Instead of pushing Harry with words, Hermione gave him a piercing look.

****

After breakfast was Charms—the Ravenclaw first-years’ first-ever class in magic. For Harry, the class was revision (review); but Hermione was trembling, she was so excited.

As Harry sat in Charms class, bored but not showing it, his mind wandered. The thought came to him, It’s been six weeks since I Summoned the Invisibility Cloak by the authority of Thanatos. I wonder if Mr Twinkle-Eyes has discovered that his stolen Deathly Hallows is missing?

****

Meanwhile, in the headmaster’s office

Albus was deeply disappointed in Severus. With no advance notice, Severus had sacked himself as teacher of the first four years of Potions.

When Albus this morning had tried to persuade Severus to reconsider, the usually reliable Potions Master had showed his “You are a moron” sneer to the headmaster. “If I announced I changed my mind and would teach Baby Potions after all, the fourth-year students from three Houses would AK me then and there. Meanwhile, every hour you delay hiring Andromeda Tonks means that her salary demands go up a hundred galleons a year.”

“You disappoint me, Severus.”

The Potions Master had shrugged. “I thwarted some secret scheme of yours, you mean. But my conscience is clear now—can you say the same?”

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the Greater Good.”

“I did not hear a ‘yes,’ I note.” Not waiting to be dismissed, Severus had walked away and had returned to his meal.

Albus had expected Minerva to loudly rebuke Severus for his disrespect, but she had said nothing. Indeed, in a thousand small ways, Minerva had demonstrated her own disrespect for Albus during this past month. The essay that Harry Potter had written for the Daily Prophet really had hurt Albus’s sterling reputation with all the Hogwarts faculty.

Now Albus realised that, for many reasons, he needed to bring Harry Potter to heel, in order for Albus to achieve his plans for the Greater Good. The best way to capture Harry? An unexpected gift. As soon as breakfast would end, Albus decided, he would go into the rat’s-nest of his office and track down the Invisibility Cloak that he had “persuaded” James Potter to loan to Albus “temporarily.”

****

A half-hour later

Albus was panicky. The Invisibility Cloak was gone! He had searched everywhere.

But then Albus remembered that he had thought of a way to put a tracking charm on the supposedly untrackable Cloak. Albus smiled in relief as he pulled the Elder Wand from his pocket, cast the tracker-location charm—

—and got nothing. Not only was the Invisibility Cloak now gone, but it was untrackable again.

Albus’s panic was twice what it had been seconds before. He knew that no spell would reveal the Invisibility Cloak, or would reveal a person hidden under the Cloak. The Summoning Charm (Accio) did not work on the Cloak, and so would not remove the Cloak’s protection from someone.

Albus suspected Lucius Malfoy of the Cloak’s theft. Albus suspected the goblins. Albus did not, for one second, suspect Harry Potter, and would have laughed if someone had suggested Harry Potter as the culprit.

****

As if his life was not difficult enough now, Albus remembered that Sirius Black’s petition for guardianship of Harry would be heard by the Wizengamot in four days. A month ago, Albus would have laughed at the idea that a former Azkaban prisoner would be awarded custody of Harry Potter instead of “the Leader of the Light.” But now? It just might happen. And if that did happen—

Albus would lose his access to Harry Potter’s annually refilling trust vault!

There was no time to lose! Albus Portkeyed to the steps of Gringotts, to make his possibly last withdrawal from Harry’s trust vault—then Albus remembered that he had given the key to Severus, who had given the key to Harry instead of giving the key back to Albus.

Albus spun around and hurried from the steps of Gringotts—not into the bank, but towards the Leaky Cauldron. In so doing, Albus missed seeing the goblin skull that was mounted on a tall pole.

Albus walked into the Leaky Cauldron. As he walked, he Accio’d a random customer’s dinner fork. His studies of Occlumency had given Albus a perfect memory when he wished; Albus now used his perfect memory to transfigure the metal dinner fork into a gold Gringotts key of the right shape and dimensions. (The magical signature of the key would be all wrong, of course, but Albus was sure he could charm his way out of any problems the goblins might cause.)

With the transfigured dinner fork in his hand, Albus strode purposefully from the Leaky Cauldron, back towards the steps of Gringotts. Albus purposefully climbed the stairs of Gringotts.

Then Albus saw the goblin skull on a pole.

The goblin skull had two pointed teeth broken off in front. Bronzedagger had had two broken teeth in front. This is Bronzedagger, Albus realised, and he has been dead for a while. If the goblins knew that Albus Dumbledore and Bronzedagger had been plotting together, and today Albus walked into the Gringotts lobby with a dodgy key, he would be dead before sundown!

Panicked Albus vanished the former dinner fork (since it was now magical evidence of his intended theft), then he Portkeyed directly back to the headmaster’s office from the steps of Gringotts.

This was not Albus’s day!

****

Meanwhile with Harry

Morning classes kept Harry busy—or rather, Harry pretending to be a completely ignorant first-year kept him busy. He was not able to read Andromeda Tonks’s letter till lunchtime.

Dear Mr Potter (or do you wish to be called Harry?)

I’m relieved beyond words that I’m able to write to you. For the last ten years, only Professor Dumbledore knew how to contact you. To everyone else in Wizarding Britain, your whereabouts were a complete mystery. Professor Dumbledore assured me, whenever I asked about you, “Harry is safe and loved.” I hope this is the case.

It’s unclear to me how much Nymphadora told you about your family, so let me write as if you were told nothing. Your parents are James Potter and Lily Evans Potter. Lily is what we call a “Muggle-born”—the child of two nonmagical people (called “Muggles”) who somehow was born magical. As I understand it, none of Lily’s relatives were magical, only she herself was. Your father, James, came from a distinguished wizarding family—the House of Potter is an Ancient and Noble House.

Before James and Lily were killed by the Dark Lord, James’ parents, Charlus Potter and Dorea Black Potter, were killed in the Blood War by Death Eaters (minions of the Dark Lord). Thus you, Harry James Potter, are the last of the Potter line.

Did Nymphadora tell you that you and I are related? My birth House is the House of Black, which also is Ancient and Noble. Your grandmother, Dorea Black Potter, is the sister of my grandfather, Pollux Black. I’ve two sisters, Bellatrix Black Lestrange and Narcissa Black Malfoy. Bellatrix, alas, is notorious as an enthusiastic follower of the Dark Lord. Narcissa is the mother of your year-mate Draco Malfoy. My cousin, Sirius Black, was a close friend of your father.

You need to know now that I did a “disgraceful” thing that I don’t think is disgraceful. My father wanted to arrange a marriage for me with Lucius Malfoy, but instead I married Edward (“Ted”) Tonks, a Muggle-born with whom I fell in love. For this act, I was disowned from the Black family. If I’m hired as a Potions professor at Hogwarts, I expect that some of the students from traditional families to say bad things behind my back; they’ll call me a “blood traitor.”

My daughter Nymphadora is a metamorphmagus (the Muggle term is “shape-shifter”). Normally she does nothing to change her appearance except to make her hair short and pink. A fun fact: When her hair is set to pink and she feels a strong emotion, her hair spontaneously changes colour.

My husband Ted is a law-wizard; he’s licensed to practise law in both Muggle Britain and Wizarding Britain. Enclosed with this letter is a lawyer-client contract for you to sign. (If you aren’t yet Heir Potter, your guardian needs to sign the contract for you.) Be assured that whatever legal business you are involved in with Edward, he won’t tell me or Nymphadora; he’s scrupulous about client confidentiality.

Welcome back to the wizarding world, Harry Potter, and welcome back to your family!

Andromeda Black Tonks (call me Andi)

Harry smiled after he read the letter. In his previous lifetime, he had no magical family till he met Tonks in his fifth year. Thinking back on this, it was obvious that once again, Dumbledore had worked to keep Harry feeling isolated and alone. But now Harry had Tonks and her parents as family; and soon his godfather Sirius would be his guardian!

****

In the Great Hall, after lunch

Hermione gathered up her things—though with difficulty; Hermione truly needed her feather-light, bottomless handbag that she would invent in a few years. No surprise to Harry, Hermione was headed to the library.

Harry told her, “I’ll catch up in an hour or less. I have some things I need to do first.” Hermione looked at Harry curiously, then left.

When the doors shut behind departed Hermione—

“Where are you going, Harry?” Cho Chang asked seductively (or as seductively as a twelve-year-old can act). “Would you like company?”

Fellow Ravenclaw second-year student Marietta Edgecombe, Harry noticed, was paying close attention.

Harry replied, “I’m good, Miss Chang. But thanks for offering.” Cho frowned.

As Harry walked out of the Great Hall, he thought about what just had happened. He decided Cho might be a problem in the future.

****

Minutes later, in the Room of Requirement

Nervous Harry said, “I call upon the Spirit of Hogwarts.”

This was entirely outside Harry’s experience in his previous lifetime; he had no idea what to expect.

The Spirit of Hogwarts, when she appeared, looked like a marble statue of a young woman—a statue which could move and talk, and which was wearing four-colour robes that displayed the Hogwarts crest.

The Spirit said, “Designated Secret Substitute Potter, how can Hogwarts help you?”

Harry felt relief then; now he could skip over the explanations (and the scepticism). “Please, call me Harry,” he said.

“As you wish, Harry.”

“Just so I’m sure I completely understand: I’ve authority to do anything and everything that a founder could do. I could change the Parseltongue password on the Chamber of Secrets, which Salazar Slytherin set.”

“Exactly.”

“More importantly, I can override anything that Headmaster Dumbledore says or does.”

“Yes.”

Harry pumped his fist. “Yes!” Seeing the Spirit’s puzzled expression on her marble face, Harry said, “Now I can start fixing the problems in this school that Noxious Stumblebum has caused.”

Then Harry said, “Tell me about house-elves. Hogwarts has its own house-elves. What other house-elves can be brought in or can be sent in?”

“Other than the Hogwarts house-elves, a house-elf can enter Hogwarts only when the human magical with whom the house-elf is bonded, may enter Hogwarts.”

“I’m sorry?”

“One-time visitors to the castle, member of the faculty, members of the Board of Governors and seventh-year students who are Head of House—any of them who have house-elves bonded to them personally, whenever these people may enter Hogwarts, their house-elves can enter Hogwarts.”

“And the same for first-year students who are Heir to their House and last of their line?”

The Spirit of Hogwarts smiled at Harry. “Yes, them too.”

“So I don’t need special DSS privileges to summon the head Potter house-elf here.”

“This is correct.”

“Lucius Malfoy, since he’s on the Board of Governors, can send any of his house-elves to anywhere in Hogwarts at any time?”

“Yes.”

“Nope, not happening now. New rule: Members of the Board of Governors no longer can send a house-elf to Hogwarts; and a Board of Governors member can summon a house-elf to Hogwarts only when the member of the Board of Governors is in the presence of the headmaster.”

“Change made,” the Spirit replied.

“Now explain to me how the headmaster knows exactly where in the castle I am, and how the Twins’ ‘Marauder’s Map’ knows.”

The Spirit’s explanation was technical, and Harry got lost at times—although he was sure that 1998-Hermione could have understood everything. The important thing was that except for the Chamber of Secrets (Salazar’s long-ago personal space) and the Room of Requirement (the founders’ long-ago research and recreation room), every inch of the floors of Hogwarts Castle detected who was where.

Harry said, “So even when I’m in a corridor with no portraits, no ghosts and no invisible house-elves, the headmaster knows I’m there if he wants to know?”

“Exactly.”

Harry nodded. This explained why the Marauder’s Map had only the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement as blind spots; for no place else in Hogwarts did students suddenly “disappear” off the map.

But what this also meant, Harry realised, is that when bullying students took a victim someplace where they thought they were free of surveillance (because no portraits were nearby), in fact they were discoverable by the headmaster whilst they were bullying the student-victim. So why did Dumbledore never stop the bullying?

Harry said, “New rule: When three or more students go to any part of the castle with no portraits, and the students remain there for more than two minutes, inform the headmaster of the students’ names and where they are. For as long as I’m attending Hogwarts, also inform me by sending a Hogwarts elf.”

“Change made.”

“Just so I’m clear: If the headmaster asks the Hogwarts magic where I am, I can get you to lie for me; but anytime I want, I can ask you to precisely locate Dumbledore for me.”

“Both parts of your statement are true.”

Harry rubbed his hands together and cackled. “Guess what, Fleecer of the Light? You and I soon will be having so much fun!”

“Do you have anything else to ask me or to tell me?” the Spirit of Hogwarts asked.

“Yes,” said Harry. “Doors and locks. No locking spell, even if the spell is in a foreign language or in Parseltongue, can work in Hogwarts if it would lock me in; not even if the headmaster casts the spell. When I speak the fake spell Fa Tratyeh Low, the door will immediately unlock. However, if I use a locking spell on a door within Hogwarts, only my unlock-spell can cancel my locking spell; nobody else’s unlock-spell shall work.”

“Change made.”

Harry smiled—he had plans for this particular change to the castle’s magic. Not to mention, it would be just like Dumbles to summon Harry to the headmaster’s office, then to magically lock the door till Harry agreed to the headmaster’s demands. So why not prevent this now?

“Thank you for your help, Spirit of Hogwarts,” Harry said to the robed statue. She curtseyed, then vanished.

Harry then called for Greyclay.

****

Seconds later

Pop. Harry, holding Greyclay’s hand, appeared on the steps of Gringotts. Harry dismissed Greyclay, then climbed the steps to enter the bank. During the stairs-climb, Harry stared at the hoisted fleshless skull of Bronzedagger; Harry’s smile was bloodthirsty.

In Gringotts, Harry asked to visit the goblin healers.

When Harry had been a toddler, Dumbledore had placed an owl-mail-redirect ward on him. Harry came today not to ask the goblin healers to remove this ward; rather, he wanted the mail-redirect ward redirected to Potter Manor.

Which the goblin healers did. This cost Harry ten minutes of his life, and a hundred galleons.

Harry then summoned Greyclay. After Greyclay elf-popped Harry back to the Room of Requirement, Harry warned the head Potter elf that Potter Manor would be getting owl mail from now on. Harry told Greyclay that he wanted the Potter house-elves to get rid of dangerous mail, and to elf-pop the rest of the mail to Harry once a week.

With this necessary but boring task out of the way, Harry headed for the library. Now that Hermione had made her first-ever trip to the Hogwarts Library, Harry was sure she was now happier than a seven-year-old on Christmas morning.

****

In the Hogwarts Library

Harry found Hermione working her first-ever Transfiguration essay, amidst two tall stacks of library books. She was radiant.

Harry set up at the same table as Hermione, near her, and began his own work. Like Hermione, Harry had a Charms essay and a Transfiguration essay to write—but even with Hermione having a thirty-minute head start, Harry finished his essays first.

Meanwhile, some other firsties approached and asked if they could sit with Harry and Hermione; as none of them were in Ravenclaw, they all were hesitant. But smiling Harry always waved them to the table.

Daphne Greengrass remarked on this, mid-afternoon. “Look at us! We’ve got you two from Ravenclaw, Neville from Gryffindor, Tracey and me from Slytherin, and Susan and Hannah from Hufflepuff—”

“Why is our House last?” Susan Bones asked with a grin.

Harry shrugged. “With one exception, I like all the first-years I met on the train—”

“Bilious, right?” asked Daphne. “Ugh, you are so right.”

Harry continued, “So long as there’s room at the table, I’ll let anyone but Bilious sit with me. Your House doesn’t matter. But you should know that in the future, if I’m sitting at a table by myself and a horde descends, I’ll always save a place for Hermione. Even when this means turning away somebody who came here before Hermione did.”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione said. She jumped out of her chair and hugged the seated Harry from behind him.

As Hermione was retaking her seat, Daphne asked Harry, “Does she often do this? Hug you?”

Harry replied, “Her parents are huggers too, which is where Hermione learnt it.” Turning to Hermione, Harry said, “I can never get enough of your hugs. Don’t ever stop them.”

Neville said, “So the only remaining question is, Where will their wedding be?” Everyone at the table laughed.

Daphne said, “Millie wants to know if you have a brother—ideally, a twin brother. She told me today, she wants the man she marries to be like you.”

“I have a cousin, but”—Harry had to work to keep his tone light—“I’m sure Millicent would not want to marry him.”

Then Harry added, “Nor do I have a brother. Which is just as well. With my luck, he would get the undeserved title of the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ and get all the love and fame and glory, whilst I’d get the same sucky parts of my life that I get now.”

Hermione gave Harry a sharp look; so did Susan Bones.

****

Whilst the other six first-years at the table worked on homework essays, chatted lowly or—in Hermione’s case—read library books for fun, Harry wrote a letter to Sirius.

Dear Sirius Black, my godfather,

I need to confess right now that I don’t remember you at all. I was fifteen months old when that part of my life ended.

Just about everything I know about you comes from reading my mum’s Hogwarts diaries. You and my dad made friends quickly (on the firstie train?), then Peter and Remus became friends later. You four boys called yourself “the Marauders,” and became famous at Hogwarts for pulling pranks, mainly on the Slytherins. You favourite Slytherin target was my mum’s friend, Severus Snape. (More about him later.) Whilst you four pranked Severus more often than he pranked you, he once got all four of you to stand up in the Great Hall and shout, “WE WANT TO BE SLYTHERINS! WE’RE SAD WE’RE NOT SLYTHERINS! PLEASE LET US BE SLYTHERINS!”

Anyway, now I’m at Hogwarts, after refusing to come to Hogwarts whilst Dumbledore was headmaster. (More about Dumbledore later.) I was Sorted into Ravenclaw, along with my genius Muggle-born friend Hermione. (More about her later.) We’ve had one day of class. We Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff firsties walked into Transfiguration today and found a cat staring at us from atop the professor’s desk—then the cat turned into Professor McGonnagill (sp?) We all were amazed.

Re Professor Snape—when I got my Hogwarts letter, I wrote back to tell them, “I refuse to go to Hogwarts.” (Because Dumbledore is in charge there, and Dumbledore has ruined my life.) But I also said in the letter, “If Sirius, Remus, Peter or Severus is at Hogwarts, I ask him to write to me.” Within hours, Professor Snape showed up at Aunt Petunia’s front door, with orders from Dumbledore to persuade me to go to Hogwarts. (By the way, Professor Snape and Aunt Petunia still hate each other.)

It turns out—I didn’t know this before—Professor Snape is famous at Hogwarts for bullying students, especially students from Gryffindor. When he was in the Dursley house, I asked him, “If Lily Evans from fifth year” (back when Mum and Professor Snape still were friends) “could watch you teach classes now, would she say you were a good teacher or a bully?” You should have seen his face then, it was as if someone had told him his dog had died. He said “A bully,” then he pointed his wand straight up and made a promise to not be a bully anymore, then there was a flash of light. Right afterwards, Professor Snape made another “wand up and flash of light” promise, to be my ally against Dumbledore, even if Dumbledore threatened to sack Professor Snape.

When Professor Snape made those two promises, he meant them. Last night, after the “Welcome to Hogwarts” feast, he apologised to the students for being a bad teacher to them (they were shocked), and he resigned as Potions professor for the first four years. (This brought cheers.) He recommended Andromeda Black Tonks (see below) as the replacement professor for Baby Potions.

What I’m trying to say: Having spent time near Professor Snape, I can understand why Mum called eleven-year-old Sev “grumpy.” But both Hermione and I deeply respect Professor Snape, and I ask that you do too.

I keep writing about Dumbledore. The simple truth is, I have good reason to hate him and to avoid any place he is at.

Harry then wrote another foot of parchment, all of it writing bad things about Dumbledore and the Dursleys. “Also, somebody has stolen G107 000 from my family vault, and I suspect Dumbledore.”

I’ve known Hermione (her-MY-oh-knee) Granger for only a bit over a month, but already we’re close friends. Professor Snape and I met Hermione in Flourish and Blotts, on the day Professor Snape took me to buy my school supplies. This was my first trip to F&B, but it was Hermione’s fourth. (Professor McGonnagill (sp?) handed Hermione her Hogwarts Letter last September.) Hermione loves to read and she’s much smarter than I am. Hermione is determined to catch up with the wizard-raised first-years, in terms of knowing magic, as quickly as she can.

Re Andromeda Black Tonks—Hermione’s parents drove Hermione and me to King’s Cross Station, so Hermione and I went through the portal ten seconds apart. Walking towards the train, we talked to an Auror and a pink-haired Auror Cadet. The Auror Cadet was named Nymphadora Tonks (but she hates her first name). She said her mother is Andromeda Black Tonks, and that Dora and her mum are related to Dorea Black Potter, my grandmother. Andromeda Tonks owled me today, and told me she’s been looking for me for the past ten years. (But Dumbledore blocked her and lied to her.) She also told me that I’m related to Draco Malfoy through Narcissa Black Malfoy. So less than two days after Hermione and I went to King’s Cross, I have a magical godfather in my life and four magical relatives!

Can you tell I’m happy?

Your trial to become my guardian is set for 6th September. I really, really, really hope you win, so that I don’t ever have to see Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley again. I also want you to win so Dumbledore can’t pull any more stunts (or steal any more money) as my supposed magical guardian.

Harry

****

Almost dinnertime

The seven first-years who had studied together, were walking from the library to the Great Hall. Daphne Greengrass looked sad.

“I’ve enjoyed this,” she said, “four different Houses studying together. Too bad kids from different Houses can talk to each other, not counting class, only on the train and in the library. But we couldn’t talk normally in the library.”

“Actually,” said Harry, “I know of one other way. In the Great Hall, the only time we must sit with our Houses is during official Feasts—the Welcoming Feast, the Yule Feast, and the Closing Feast.”

“Really?” said Hannah Abbott. “So I could eat dinner with—?” She glanced at Neville, then looked down at the floor as she blushed.

“Are you sure about this, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, it’s buried in the rules somewhere.” Not to mention, the founders told me they want kids in different Houses to mingle. “So the seven of us, let’s have dinner at the end of the Ravenclaw table.”

“Just so long as it isn’t at the end of the Gryffindor table,” Tracey Davis said. “No offence, Neville.”

When the seven studious sprogs walked into the Great Hall, six of them walked to the end of the Ravenclaw table and sat on the benches, which startled everyone else in the room. Harry said to Hermione, “Save me a seat,” then he walked to the Gryffindor table.

Harry walked to the first-years section of the Gryffindor table, and invited those firsties to join his dinner group at the end of the Ravenclaw table. Harry then walked to the Ravenclaw table and the Hufflepuff table, giving the same invitation to those tables’ first-years. At the Slytherin table, the process got a bit more complicated—

“...end of the Ravenclaw table,” Harry said, as he waved a hand to show where he meant.

Ron Weasley stood up from where he was sitting (again at the end of the Slytherin table).

“Sit down, Bilious!” Harry snapped. “You are not invited.”

“Oh, please take him,” Pansy said, “so we don’t have to watch him eat.”

“Why am I not invited?” Ron demanded. “Because I’m not famous? Because my family is poor?”

Harry stared down Ron. “You aren’t invited, Bilious, because you’re annoying, disgusting and disturbed. I don’t care if your mother sends me a hundred Howlers for saying these things and for not inviting you.”

Ron neither was moving towards the Ravenclaw table now, nor was he sitting back down. A Slytherin prefect walked over. “Sit down, Bilious. Remember what Professor Snape said about Potter.”

Red-eared, scowling Ron sat back down on his bench.

“What Slytherins are there already, at your Ravenclaw dinner?” Draco asked Harry.

“Daphne and Tracey,” Harry answered.

Up the table, Sam Flint sneered. “Is the mudblood there?”

Harry stared Flint in the eyes and said, “My Muggle-born friend Hermione was the first one there.”

Draco stood up from his bench. “This sounds like a good way to make connexions. Thank you for the invitation, Heir Potter.”

Millicent Bulstrode stood up. “I’m going too.” She curtseyed towards Harry.

A minute later, when Harry took his seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table (sitting across from Hermione), he discovered that the six other first-years from the library, plus new arrivals Draco and Millicent, were joined by Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff, Parvati Patil of Gryffindor and Su Li and Padma Patil of Ravenclaw.

****

Albus was watching as first-year students from four Houses sat down at the end of the Ravenclaw table. The fact that Harry Potter was masterminding this gathering, much annoyed Albus. The Greater Good demanded that Harry Potter be pathetically grateful to be accepted into any group, not creating a group where such a group could not exist otherwise.

When Harry, Draco and Millicent left the Slytherin table for the Ravenclaw table, Albus looked across the High Table to Severus. “This seems like something that James Potter would do if he’d thought of it.”

What Albus expected to happen: For Severus to jump up, to loudly order all the children back to their places, and to issue nasty detentions to Harry Potter.

What instead happened: Severus said, “No, this is entirely Lily’s sort of plan.” Then Severus went back to his eating.

****

During dessert, at the end of the Ravenclaw table

At the High Table, Dumbledore briefly spoke to McGonagall, who frowned.

Then Dumbledore left the table for his office. McGonagall left the High Table right afterwards, to walk between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables.

At the Slytherin table, Sam Flint laughed. “The Twins are in trouble!”

But the Deputy Headmistress’s intended victim was not a Gryffindor. McGonagall walked to the end of the Ravenclaw table, and up to Hermione.

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall said in her Scottish accent, “the headmaster wishes to speak to you in his office.”

Su Li asked, “Hermione, what did you do?”

“I haven’t done anything!” Hermione said, looking panicky.

Then Hermione said to the old witch, “Please, professor, do you know what this is about?”

“No, and you’d best be going. The headmaster doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Harry snapped, “And I don’t like to live with Muggle relatives who hate me. But we can’t always get what we want.”

McGonagall looked pained. Good, Harry thought.

Harry leant over towards Hermione, who leant over towards him. He murmured, “Remember what I told you on the train platform, what to say when he speaks his pretty words.”

At regular volume, Harry said, “You’d better go. I’ll be waiting for you in our common room.”

As old Professor McGonagall walked with tiny Hermione to the Great Hall double doors that led to the headmaster’s staircase, conversations broke out amongst students.

Those conversations got louder when Harry stood up and said, loudly enough to be heard in the entire Great Hall—

“Professor Flitwick, you are Hermione’s Head of House, and I deeply distrust Dumbledore’s motives for summoning my friend. Anything from tricky word-games to mind-control spells”—students gasped, hearing this—“could happen to Hermione if those two are alone. I ask that you’re there with Hermione when Hermione is with Dumbledore.”

Flitwick jumped down from his chair at the High Table, and ran after McGonagall and Hermione.

Harry hoped Flitwick’s presence would be enough.

Chapter 13: Snape Gets Mail

Chapter Text

During the walk to the headmaster’s office

Hermione was scared and confused. She was a model student, but only “bad kids” ever were summoned to the headmaster’s office.

What have I done wrong? she wondered, over and over. She wracked her brain and came up with nothing—she had not even raised her voice today.

But there was another reason for Hermione’s worry: Harry was convinced that Headmaster Dumbledore would do something evil to her once they were alone. Hermione imagined the headmaster pulling out a pocket watch and hypnotising her, then programming her like a computer. Would the headmaster truly perform such a wicked deed?

Soon Professor McGonagall and Hermione (and panting Professor Flitwick) were standing by stairs, which were completely blocked by a gargoyle statue. Professor McGonagall said “Licorice sticks.”

The gargoyle jumped aside, revealing a spiral staircase. As soon as Professor McGonagall and Hermione stepped on a step, the staircase’s steps moved up like an escalator.

****

“Ah, Miss Granger, do come in,” Dumbledore said genially. His blue eyes looked over half-moon glasses and twinkled at her. “Please take a seat.”

Then the headmaster’s voice changed: “Minerva, Filius, thank you for escorting Miss Granger here, but I’m sure you have other tasks that require your time. I’ll let you attend to them.”

Hermione heard imperiousness in those last words—the headmaster was not giving Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick permission to leave, he was ordering them to leave. Hermione felt scared.

Professor Flitwick walked to a chair and sat on it. “Right now my most important task, headmaster, is to advise and to assist a student in my House.”

Professor McGonagall did not bother to justify her presence. She simply sat in another chair and said, “Well, Albus?”

But the headmaster was not the next person to speak. Hermione asked, “Please, sir, why am I here? What did I do wrong?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Miss Granger, you have done nothing wrong. Perish the thought. You were pointed out to me as an interesting student, and I wanted to get better acquainted with you.”

Professor Flitwick said, “So you didn’t ask her here because she’s Harry Potter’s best friend?”

“Of course not,” the headmaster said. “So, young lady, what do you think of your first day of classes in magic? What do you think of the school?”

“They’re both brilliant, sir,” Hermione said, slightly relaxing. She smiled a bit.

“Good, good,” the headmaster said, his eyes twinkling. “Now, since Harry’s name has come up, let me ask you, Miss Granger: How did you and Harry meet?”

****

On the train platform, Harry’s eyes had stared earnestly into Hermione’s. “One final thing I need to tell you. If Dumbledore asks you a question about me, tell him firmly, ‘Go ask Harry himself’ or ‘Go ask a professor.’ Don’t answer Dumbledore’s intrusive question. Another nasty quirk of his is that he’s greedy to know other people’s secrets—but the secrets he knows, he never tells.”

****

Hermione was scared, but her spine stiffened. “I met him, sir, but the details are boring. Ask Harry if you wish to know.”

“Miss Granger, this is not the answer I was hoping for.” The headmaster sounded so disappointed in her!

Hermione continued bravely: “But since the boy’s name has come up, as you say, perhaps you could answer a question: Where in the town of Little Whinging, in Surrey County, does Harry live?”

Hermione thought, I’m asking only for a post address, not a military secret, and it’s an address I already halfway know. But if Harry is right and the headmaster is miserly at sharing secrets, he’ll invent excuses not to tell.

“What makes you believe,” Dumbledore asked in a careful voice, “that Harry Potter lives in Surrey?”

“Well, sometimes over the hols, Harry and I would agree to go somewhere, with my parents picking him up. But he refused to tell us where his house was. He always went to a park to be picked up. The park is in Little Whinging, and I figure it’s within walking distance of his house.”

“Miss Granger, Harry was wise not to tell you. There are bad wizards who could do bad things to Harry if they could trick from you the knowledge of where he lived.”

Professor Flitwick said, “Nonsense. Whatever Mr Potter’s reason was for not disclosing his address, it wasn’t worry about Death Eaters. Miss Granger, did Mr Potter tell you why he won’t tell you where his family lives?”

“Erm, first of all, professor, Harry always calls them his ‘relatives,’ never his ‘family.’ And whenever I suggested us playing together at his house, his face turned red and he said ‘No!’ really loudly.”

“Like he’s ashamed?” Professor McGonagall asked. Her hand covered her mouth in horror.

Professor Dumbledore said, “If Harry doesn’t want you at his house, you should respect this. So you see”—the headmaster’s eyes twinkled—“there’s no reason for me to tell you his address.”

“But it’s not only me who wants to know, professor. My parents want to know his address too.”

“Miss Granger, your parents are Muggles. It would be dangerous for Harry if they knew where he lived.”

“What I want to know,” said Professor Flitwick, “is why Mr and Mrs Granger want so much to talk to Mr Potter’s fa—relatives.”

“Mum and Dad wouldn’t say,” Hermione said sombrely. “They told me, ‘It’s not a topic for children, Hermione.’ ”

Professor McGonagall snarled, “I told you, Albus! They are the worst sort of Muggles!”

“Wait,” said Hermione. “Harry’s relatives are bad people, and you know this? Then why is he with them? Yesterday on the train platform, we met a pink-haired woman, and Harry is related to her. But he’s not living with the pink-haired woman’s family, he’s living in Little Whinging. Why isn’t Harry living with nice magical people instead of nonmagical people he doesn’t want me to meet?”

The headmaster steepled his fingers. “You’re too young to understand this, but Harry is where he is, because it’s safest for him.”

Professor McGonagall sighed. “I’m afraid, Miss Granger, that the only way you’ll learn the address is if Mr Potter changes his mind and tells you. Nobody here knows the address except for the headmaster and myself, and I’ve taken an oath on my magic not to reveal Mr Potter’s address.”

Hermione looked at the headmaster. “Does my telling you that my parents want to talk to Harry’s aunt and uncle, change your mind about giving me Harry’s address?”

“No. Truly this is a secret for Harry’s own good.”

Hermione sighed. “Erm, listen, if I’m not in trouble for anything and you’re not going to ask me any questions about me, may I go now? I’ve homework to do.” Hermione did not ask this question of the headmaster; rather, she asked it to the other two professors in the room.

“Yes, you may leave,” Professor McGonagall said, whilst shooting the headmaster a look of Don’t argue if you know what’s good for you.

Hermione was just about to open the door when the headmaster said, “Miss Granger! Tell me, what does Harry think of me? Does he understand that everything I’ve done has been for his own good?”

“He hates you, headmaster.” Hermione put her hand on the door handle. “Did you expect otherwise?”

“Why does he hate me? Tell me, what have I done to anger him?”

“I’ll let Harry answer that.”

“Please tell him I care deeply for him. Harry Potter is a special boy, and if you’re his friend, obviously you are a special girl. Sometime, I would like to talk to you again, about how you and I can work together behind the scenes to help your special friend.”

Hermione looked the headmaster in the eyes. Tears were running down from Hermione’s own eyes; her disappointment was gigantic. She said, “Sir, I can’t see that Harry needs any help from anyone. Already he’s shown that he’s someone who helps others. But from things he’s let slip, I think the last thing he needs is help from you. If you ‘help’ him any more than you have, he’ll wind up with an arm and leg missing. Sir.”

As calmly as Hermione could manage, she walked out the door—even as tears continued to fall.

****

Albus was annoyed. During the entire time that Miss Granger had been in his office, he had used the Elder Wand to try and do covert Legilimency on her. Part of Albus’s frustration was that the Elder Wand still was not working like it used to. But another reason for his annoyance was that when he tried to read Miss Granger’s mind, he heard nothing. He did not hear surface thoughts, he did not hear decoy thoughts, he heard nothing. As if he had tried to mind-read a rock.

So whatever secrets that Harry Potter might have confided to Miss Granger, Albus still did not know.

In any case, Miss Granger had been deeply disrespectful to Albus during their meeting. Albus snarled in his head, Child, now you are definitely not getting help from the headmaster when you are bullied.

****

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall

Harry and his new friends had lingered over dessert, but now were preparing to scatter from the end of the Ravenclaw table.

At the moment, Harry worried about Hermione in Dumbledore’s office. Harry’s worries were lessened because Professors Flitwick and McGonagall also were in the headmaster’s office—still, Harry worried about his friend. Would Dumbledore succeed at beguiling innocent, trusting Hermione?

“Hermione will be fine, Heir Potter,” said Su Li. Harry gave her a fake smile in reply.

Then Harry consciously put thoughts of Hermione aside. He smiled at the eleven other faces at the end of the table. “I’m glad I did this, holding this all-Houses firstie dinner.”

Harry was interrupted by words of agreement from the other first-years.

Harry continued, “Let’s do this every night. Any and every first-year is invited except Bilious. He creeps me out.”

Harry was answered with eleven smiles, to match his own grin.

****

That evening, in the Ravenclaw common room

Hermione told the story of her meeting with Dumbledore. More students than only the first-years listened closely. Harry saw frowns on many faces, to match the frown that Harry himself was wearing.

****

The next morning, after breakfast
Tuesday, 3rd September
In the Great Hall

As usual, after breakfast the mail owls delivered copies of the Daily Prophet. Harry discovered that the Prophet had much to say about the Sorting (starring Harry Potter, “the Boy Who Lived”). Surprisingly, the newspaper quoted Snape’s contrite speech, after the Opening Feast, in full.

****

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Great Hall

Severus Snape was shocked, then confused, when a postal owl landed on the High Table in front of his breakfast plate.

He was shocked because the pastel-yellow colour of the envelope told Snape that this was a personal letter. Snape never received personal letters!

Snape was confused when he saw the name written in the upper-left corner of the front of the envelope: “A Bones.” Amelia Bones was the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; also, she was the aunt and the guardian of first-year Hufflepuff student Susan Bones.

Completely unable to guess what he was about to read, Snape opened the envelope.

Amelia Bones’s note was short and to the point—

“I saw the story about you in the Daily Prophet. You admitted your terrible mistake, to someone who wouldn’t forgive you. I know your pain. In your case, it was the student body of Hogwarts to whom you confessed, but by whom you were not absolved; in my case, it was Sirius Black.”

After breakfast, Snape owled Amelia a note in reply. Afterwards, Snape could not explain to himself why he wrote what he did, acting like a brash Gryffindor—

“Thank you for the kind words of empathy, Miss Bones. Would you like to go out for tea sometime?”

****

Minutes later, in the DMLE

Amelia almost fell out of her chair when she read the owl-message from Professor Snape. He wants to go on a date with me?

Amelia’s first response was to say No, absolutely not, forget it! But then she thought about her situation.

She was the Director of the DMLE—which meant that everyone who worked in magical law enforcement was off-limits for dating. Nobody else who worked in the Ministry of Magic even slightly appealed to Amelia—or they already were married. Same with the wizards whom she met, who did not work for the government: they were unappealing, they were married or they preferred other wizards.

In short, Amelia’s dating options were limited.

Next, was Severus worth her time? He never had been charming; and he had joined the Death Eaters as a teenager; these were giant negatives to Amelia. But evidently, he had recanted at becoming a Death Eater—or had he? If Amelia went on a date with Severus, she would have to question him about this.

But Severus came with plusses. He had helped Amelia with NEWT-level Potions a few times, despite being a year behind her in school; which meant he was smart. He had been the friend of Lily Evans for five years. He had a dry wit that had made Amelia laugh whenever she had heard it. And he could insult someone, to deadly effect, without speaking louder than the librarian.

But one thing stopped Amelia from writing to Severus with “Yes, I’ll have tea with you”: Sirius Black. If Sirius heard that she had gone on even one date with Severus, any hope she had of reconciling with her one-time almost-betrothed would be lost.

Amelia used a Bones house-elf to send Sirius a note: “Is there any hope for us getting back together? I miss you.”

One minute later, Kreacher delivered Sirius’s reply: “Not in the foreseeable future, Director Bones.”

So Amelia sent an owl-message back to Professor Snape: “Severus: Yes, I want to sit down with you for tea. Not as Auror and professor, but as a woman and man who went to school together. Where and when do you want to get together?”

****

An hour later, elsewhere in Hogwarts Castle

Harry had his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class (in this lifetime); this time, Harry was surrounded by first-year Ravenclaws, not first-year Gryffindors.

Two-Q was just as unimpressive a teacher, because of his fake stutter, as the last time around. Even Hermione was fidgety in his class.

Because Harry no longer had the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, Harry’s forehead no longer pained him whenever Professor Quirrell turned his back on Harry. Thank Merlin for small favours, Harry thought.

Harry knew that Two-Q’s stuttering and timidity were all an act, so that everyone would believe Quirinus Quirrell was nobody to fear or to watch closely. It amused Harry that his own behaviour in Two-Q’s class, as a harmless eleven-year-old student, was just as much an act.

So Two-Q’s “passenger” had secret plans to kill Harry? Harry had his own secret and deadly plans for Tom Riddle.

But for now, Two-Q pretended to teach, and Harry pretended to learn.

Harry thought, Actually, a better name for Mr Purple Turban would be Four-Q.

****

Meanwhile, in the headmaster’s office

Albus was negotiating a contract with Healer Andromeda Tonks, for her to teach first- through fourth-year Potions.

The most startling thing for anyone who met Andromeda Black Tonks in person was how much she looked like her notorious sister, Bellatrix. Oh, Andromeda had ash-blond (light brown) hair, not the black hair of Voldemort’s groupie; Andromeda was a Healer, not a killer; and Andromeda believed so little in Blood Purity that she had married a Muggle-born (and had been cast out of the Black family for it).

Still, all three Black daughters had been beautiful and arrogant as Hogwarts students; and right now, Albus could not shake the feeling that he was trying to hire Bellatrix or Narcissa as a Potions professor.

At the moment, Albus was trying to bamboozle Andromeda not to talk to her young relative Harry, whilst they both were at Hogwarts. Albus fake-explained, “Harry is being hit by a flood of new information. All of the wizarding world is new to him, and he needs to ease into it. Your talking to him would overwhelm him.”

Andromeda sat up straight and asked archly, “Are you actually telling me not to talk to Harry Potter, who is family to me? Is this a condition of my employment?”

“Andromeda, I’m just trying to explain why it’s for Harry’s own—”

“This is a condition of my employment, yes or no?” Before Albus could answer, Andromeda continued, “Because if your answer is ‘yes,’ I’ll stay at my job at Saint Mungo’s and you can find someone else. Of course, such a search might take you a while.”

When Albus said “Yes, this is a condition of your employment,” Healer Tonks walked out without another word, and she walked down the stairs and most of the way through the Great Hall before Albus called her back—then he caved completely.

Healer Tonks would receive a hundred galleons a year less than her first counteroffer, but now she would be allowed to talk with Harry, and Albus now had his professor for Baby Potions.

It was a rotten deal for Albus, but Severus had forced Albus to bargain from a position of weakness—and Andromeda at the negotiating table proved to be as merciless as her black-haired sister.

****

At lunchtime, in the Great Hall

Snape again received an owl-delivered letter that surprised him. But this letter was not written by Amelia Bones, it was written by Sirius Black—

Dear Severus,

First of all, I owe you a fifteen-year-old apology. The prank I played on you in fifth year, telling you about the Whomping Willow corridor during a full moon, when Remus was fully the werewolf, could have gotten you killed. It was gormless and thoughtless of me. I can only imagine how frightening that night was to you, before James rescued you. I have no excuse. I apologise.

Harry has written one letter to me since my acquittal. He made a point to mention that when you were visiting him at Petunia’s house, you made two oaths on your magic: one to be a good Potions teacher, and one to be an ally of Harry’s against Dumbledore. I am pleased to hear that you made these two oaths without any prompting by Harry.

Harry also wrote in his letter to me, these words: “Having spent time near Professor Snape, I can understand why Mum called eleven-year-old Sev ‘grumpy.’ But both Hermione and I deeply respect Professor Snape, and I ask that you do too.”

In three days, the Wizengamot will hear my petition to become Harry’s guardian. My law-wizard tells me that this is sure to happen. When I am granted guardianship, I want to be a good guardian for Harry, one who doesn’t make him unhappy. But I realise, bad feelings between you and me would make Harry unhappy.

In short: It’s time I grew up. Again, I apologise for being a wanker to you.

Sirius Orion Black

Snape did not know how to respond to this letter. However, there was one response he was sure that he would not make: Unlike Amelia Bones, he would not suggest that Sirius Black meet him for tea.

****

Meanwhile, elsewhere at the High Table

Filius Flitwick eyed the headmaster and said, “Last night, when Miss Granger came into your office, you know that I came with her, as her Head of House. What you don’t know is why I did this. As Miss Granger was walking away from her seat, Mr Potter stood up and asked me to sit in; otherwise, quote, ‘Anything from tricky word-games to mind-control spells could happen to Hermione if those two are alone.’ ”

“ ‘Mind-control spells’? Harry actually said I would do this?” The headmaster looked hurt and disappointed.

Flitwick did not voice his suspicions that the headmaster several times had Obliviated him.

Instead, Flitwick said, “Last night, Miss Granger told the Ravenclaw common room that all of your questions for her were about Mr Potter, not about Miss Granger herself. This morning, I’ve been asked by many Ravens if you actually would Imperius Miss Granger to turn her into a spy of Mr Potter.” The headmaster looked alarmed. Flitwick continued, “I said I didn’t think you would go so far, but it was my opinion that you are obsessed with Mr Potter.”

Shocked-seeming Dumbledore said, “ ‘Obsessed,’ that’s what you called me?”

Minerva said, “You are obsessed with Mr Potter, Albus. It’s unhealthy.”

None of the professors who were involved in the discussion needed to mention that if a roomful of Ravenclaws decided that their headmaster was “obsessed” with Harry Potter, then by this evening, this opinion would be shared all over the school.

****

After lunch

This time, it was Harry who was summoned to Dumbledore’s office. Harry was prepared.

After Dumbledore’s usual offer of the potioned sherbet-lemon candy, followed by small talk, the headmaster asked, “What happened to your scar? It’s completely gone.”

Harry lied smoothly and said, “Goblins. Voldy put that lightning bolt on my forehead, but I had no intention of it staying on my forehead. I like my forehead unmarked, thank you very much.”

Dumbledore looked stunned. Harry knew that Dumbledore, giving the matter only little thought, had assumed that the horcrux in Harry’s scar could not be killed except by Harry dying. In fact, it had been Thanatos’s contract that had removed the horcrux from Harry’s scar; but Harry was sure that if he had gone to the goblins for horcrux-removal, the goblins would have succeeded at the task. But Dumbledore clearly had not given even a second’s thought to Harry visiting a goblin healer.

But then, Harry thought angrily, why should Dumbledore think of the goblins? To do so would require the whiskered wanker to admit that maybe he was wrong sometimes. Besides, he was not the person to be stuck with the results of having a chunk of Voldy’s soul stuck to his forehead.

“And your glasses, what happened to them?” Dumbledore asked.

“Oddly, after my scar was fixed, I no longer needed them.”

“Do you truly believe I use ‘mind-control spells’ on students?” Dumbledore asked, his voice dripping with disappointment.

“In a heartbeat. And on professors too,” Harry replied.

“You have no proof of any such claim, Harry.”

Harry, instead of replying, looked at the headmaster in a lengthening silence. When the silence was broken, it was by Dumbledore—

“Exactly why do wizard-raised kids call you Heir Potter?”

“Because I am Heir Potter. Want to see the ring?” Harry took great joy in showing Dumbledore the Heir Potter ring that Dumbledore had plotted so hard to prevent Harry from ever hearing about.

Dumbledore glanced at the Heir Potter ring, then put on his disappointed grandfather face. “Harry, there was no need for you to do this. You need to enjoy your childhood, free of cares and responsibilities.”

“Rubbish. Without this ring and this title, I would be defenceless against any kind of attack.” Harry’s green eyes bored into Dumbledore’s blue eyes in challenge. “By the way, G107 000 is missing from the Potter family vault; you wouldn’t know where those galleons went to, would you?”

Harry heard several portraits gasp at Harry’s thinly veiled accusation.

“Harry, I am disappointed in you, for making baseless insinuations against me. You shall apologise now.”

“ ‘Baseless’ insinuations? Does the name Bronzedagger ring a bell?” Harry stood up. “This meeting is a farce. I’m leaving.” Harry headed for the door—

—which would not open. “Harry my boy,” Dumbledore said smugly from behind, “I really must insist that you apologise to me before I let you leave. Believe me, if you had clear proof that I had stolen from your family vault, I’d be labouring in the goblin mines right now.”

“You actually will lock me in here till I ‘apologise’ to you for calling you out for your sh*t that we both know is true?”

“Language, Harry. You are overdue to learn that you and I do not have a relationship of equals. Well? I’m waiting.” Dumbledore’s smug grin was big on his face.

Harry smiled a smug grin of his own. “I’m going to show you a wandless-magic spell I know.”

Harry moved his open right hand towards the door, whilst making a twisting motion with his right forearm, as if he were turning a doorknob. “Fa Tratyeh Low.”

Harry pulled on the door; it opened. Harry shot a grin at Dumbledore over his shoulder, then walked out.

****

Albus stared in shock as Harry walked through the Elder Wand-locked door.

The meeting had been a total failure. Albus had tried to cast Legilimency on Harry, only to “hear” nothing. Just like with Miss Granger, either Harry was brain-dead, or he was a natural Occlumens.

****

Before dinner, in the Great Hall

Study in the library this afternoon had involved ten, not seven—Millicent Bulstrode, Su Li and Padma Patil had joined Harry and the other six from yesterday.

Now, as Harry, Hermione, and the eight other first-years entered the Great Hall, coming from the library, Harry spotted Professor Flitwick and a woman with light-brown hair standing just inside the double doors that led to Ravenclaw.

“Mr Potter, please come here,” Flitwick shouted, as he beckoned Harry over.

“Are we sitting at the same place as yesterday?” Millicent asked Harry.

“End of the Ravenclaw table, yes,” Harry said. “Please save seats for me and Hermione. Join me now, Hermione?”

As Harry and Hermione walked towards Flitwick and the light-brown-hair woman, Hermione murmured, “It’s ‘seats for Hermione and me.’ Honestly, Harry.”

Harry chuckled at Hermione being so Hermione-ish.

Professor Flitwick performed introductions, “since I understand that you two never actually have met. Healer Tonks, this is your second cousin, Harry Potter the Potter Heir, and Miss Hermione Granger of New House Granger. Mr Potter and Miss Granger, this is the new professor for ‘Baby Potions,’ as well as Mr Potter’s second cousin, Healer Andromeda Black Tonks.”

Harry bowed to his Cousin Andromeda and kissed her knuckles, as Andromeda and Hermione exchanged curtseys.

Harry asked Andromeda, “May I invite you to dinner with me and a horde of curious eleven-year-olds from all four Houses?”

Andromeda sighed. “I’m told it’s traditional that professors eat at the High Table during the meal. But how about I shave the tradition a bit and join you during dessert?”

“That would be brilliant!” Harry said. Hermione looked happy too—undoubtedly at the thought of chat with a Hogwarts professor outside of class.

****

Minutes later, at the High Table

When Dumbledore announced that Hogwarts had hired the professor for Potions for the first four years, Andromeda heard the second-, third- and fourth-year students clap and cheer. The first-years did not cheer, and clapped only politely—and this included a group of first-years that was sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table.

Andromeda leant over and asked Filius, “Do I truly spot all four Houses eating together in that group that Harry is sitting with? When did this start?”

“Yesterday,” Flitwick said.

“Yesterday?”

“Yesterday, and it was Mr Potter who formed the group. Already your cousin has shown himself to be a remarkable young man.”

Andromeda looked more closely, and noticed that her nephew Draco was in Harry’s group. At the moment, Draco, Harry, Hermione and Susan Bones were holding a four-way discussion.

Andromeda said, “A remarkable young man? Clearly so, if Harry can get Draco talking politely with a Muggle-born girl.”

Chapter 14: Harry Gets (Nearly) Naked

Chapter Text

2½ days later
Friday, 6th September; early morning
The Ravenclaw first-year boys’ dormitory

“Master Harry Potter must wake up now! Miss Herminny needs Master Harry Potter!” Harry heard these words as he was shaken awake.

Harry sat up and looked about quickly. The hand of Glaze, a Potter house-elf, was pulling on Harry’s pyjama top, and her worried grey eyes were staring into Harry’s own.

Harry had assigned Greyclay to send either Glaze or Daisy to follow Hermione invisibly, and to let Harry know if Hermione needed rescue. This unscheduled wake-up call was the result.

“I’m awake now,” Harry said. “What’s wrong with Hermione?”

“Bad girls have Miss Herminny tied up in her bed and they are saying mean things,” Glaze answered.

Harry jumped out of bed and rushed to dress. He was thankful that, unlike his older self at seventeen, now he did not need to spend time shaving. He tried to comb his hair, but soon gave it up as a bad job.

“Here’s the plan,” Harry said to Glaze as he took her hand. “Take me to where Hermione is, but we go there invisible. When I squeeze your hand twice, make us both visible again, then be ready for my orders. My wand is in my pocket, but I won’t be using it. Saving Hermione will be all on you. Understand?”

Glaze stood straighter. “Glaze will not let Master Harry Potter down. Glaze will rescue Master Harry Potter’s friend.”

“Energise,” Harry said.

****

In Hermione’s dorm room, minutes earlier

Hermione was rudely awakened from sleep by being shaken roughly. “Wake up, mudblood!” Hermione heard.

A different girl’s voice said, “Incarcerous!” Hermione felt ropes pull her arms to her side. She looked to her right and saw Cho Chang, a second-year Ravenclaw, pointing a wand at her.

“Oof!” Hermione said a second later, as another Ravenclaw second-year, Marietta Edgecombe, jumped on Hermione’s bed, astride Hermione’s magically roped body.

“Do we have your attention now?” Marietta asked, as she pointed Hermione’s own wand (which had been on the nightstand) at the younger girl’s face.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, resigned. She had hoped to escape bullying at her new school, but this happy state had lasted less than a week.

Marietta said, “We have a problem with you, mudblood. Every time we see Harry Potter in the common room, he’s with you. Every time we see Harry at the library, he’s with you.”

Cho said, “And eating in the Great Hall? You’re never more than three inches away from him.”

“Why do you care?” Hermione asked. “You both are twelve. Has menarche hit either of you yet?”

Cho sneered, “We’re not old enough to marry now, but one day we will be old enough to marry. And more importantly, one day Harry will be old enough to marry. And Harry Potter, when he marries, deserves better than a beaver-teeth mudblood with awful hair.”

Pop.

“What was that?” Marietta asked nervously.

Cho answered, “It sounded like a house-elf.” She looked round the room. “But I don’t see any.”

Hermione asked, “What’s a house-elf?”

Marietta slapped Hermione’s cheek with her own wand. “There you go, mudblood girl, asking ignorant questions! You don’t even know what a house-elf is? Why should Harry Potter spend even one minute a day with you?”

“Bring all three wands to me, and tie those two bitches up!” an angry boy’s voice said. Cho’s wand in her hand, Hermione’s wand in Marietta’s hand, and Marietta’s wand in her pocket, all flew off to Hermione’s left. An instant later, Marietta and Cho were tied up with ropes.

“Unrope Hermione,” the same boy’s voice commanded. Hermione’s restraints disappeared.

Hermione looked over to her left. Harry Potter, his face enraged and his hands holding three wands, was standing next to a three-foot-tall creature. The house-elf had huge grey eyes and an hourglass shape, and she was wearing a grey dress with a black ‘P’ on it.

“Potter!” said Cho. “You’re not supposed to be in a girl’s dorm. Leave now!” she said imperiously.

“And you’re not supposed to be bullying a fellow student,” Harry replied.

Then Harry spoke to the house-elf: “Increase the ropes on those two. Make them cocoons below the neck.” The house-elf snapped her fingers, and the lower 80 percent of Cho’s and Marietta’s bodies became hidden behind rope.

By now, Hermione had manoeuvred out from under rope-bound Marietta and was walking towards Harry. Hermione took back her wand.

“Did they hurt you?” Harry snarled.

“Marietta slapped my cheek with my own wand,” Hermione replied. “Which was more insulting than painful.”

“What’s going to happen to us?” Marietta replied.

Harry answered, “What do you think, Cho? You’re a second-year who used a fifth-year spell, so you’re smart—for an inbred. What do you think will happen?”

“Well, you could let us go, after we promise not to do it again,” Cho replied. Her face was way too hopeful.

Harry’s grin was evil. “You mean after you two each give a magical oath, on your magic and your life, that you won’t cause harm to Hermione Granger directly or indirectly? Sure, I can go with that.”

The bully-girls’ faces now were white.

Harry said, “No, what I’m going to do is to have Glaze take you inside Professor Flitwick’s office. Right now. And Glaze will leave your wands on the professor’s desk. And in a few minutes, I’ll write an entertaining note for Professor Flitwick to read—and I’ll bet I can persuade Hermione to add a paragraph or two at the bottom. How’s that sound?”

“We’ll miss breakfast,” Cho said.

“And also your first class, in a worst-case scenario. But you know what, bullies? I frankly don’t care if I make you miss class. And I am also completely unbothered about you missing breakfast.

“But before Glaze takes you away, Marietta asked a question and I’m going to answer it. Why should I spend even a minute with Muggle-born Hermione? Because Hermione, alone in this entire school, looks at me and sees Harry the eleven-year-old boy, not ‘the Boy Who Lived.’ Also because in seven years, Hermione will know how to do magic as well as any inbred. She’ll also know about maths, science, Muggle history, and all the subjects that you inbreds are proud to be ignorant of. I didn’t defeat Voldemort when I was a toddler, my Muggle-born mother did. You two inbred bullies think about that, whilst your bladders get full and your stomachs growl.”

Then Harry said, “Glaze, away with them! And their wands too.” Glaze snapped her fingers, and two older girls, and two wooden wands, all vanished.

Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek, after she hugged the stuffing out of him. “Thank you for rescuing me, Harry. It was quite Gryffindor of you.” For some reason, this made Harry laugh. “Now get out of here. I need to get ready for my day.”

Harry nodded. “Don’t forget that the first class for Ravenclaws and ’Puffs in flying a broom has been rescheduled for after lunch, because I’ll be in court this morning.”

Hermione frowned.

****

9 a.m.
Courtroom Seven, the Ministry of Magic

Harry, Sirius and Sirius’s law-wizard Ted Tonks walked into the courtroom. Ted murmured to Sirius, “One problem I see, right now.”

“What’s that?” Sirius asked.

“Look who’s sitting in the Chief Warlock seat,” Ted replied. “The wizarding world’s almost-emperor, Albus Dumbledore. But don’t worry, I’ve a plan.”

Minutes later, Dumbledore banged the gavel. “We’re here this morning in regards to a petition of guardianship for Harry Ja—”

“Objection!” Ted yelled.

“Ted, what are you doing?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling merrily. “We haven’t even started the trial yet.”

“We are holding a trial to determine guardianship of Harry Potter. You, Albus Dumbledore, claimed guardianship of Harry Potter ten years ago—contrary to the written wishes of both parents, I add—and thus I demand that you recuse yourself during this trial.”

“I’m a big boy, Ted. I’m sure I’m mature enough to hold an impartial trial, despite whatever personal interest I might take in it.”

Augusta Longbottom lit her wand and stood. “I move that the question of Chief Warlock Dumbledore recusing himself be put to a vote.”

“Seconded,” Lucius Malfoy drawled.

The vote passed easily. Cyrus Greengrass was made Acting Chief Warlock.

Ted Tonks tried to have the wills of James and Lily Potter read into evidence. Dumbledore objected, saying that the wills were “sealed by the Chief Warlock.” Ted pointed out that the wills became public record during Sirius Black’s public criminal trial, in which Black was acquitted.

Both wills said, in plain text, that Sirius Black was the Potter parents’ first choice as guardian.

“This was true when the wills were written,” Dumbledore argued, “but ten years in Azkaban have made this wizard mentally unstable. Right now he isn’t ready for the demands of guardianship.”

When Ted Tonks heard this, he grinned. “Tell me, Mr Dumbledore, when did you gain a certification as a Mind Healer?”

Ted then proceeded to show, oh so politely, that Albus Dumbledore was no more qualified to speak about Sirius Black’s mental fitness than he was qualified to give opinions about different brands of shaving cream.

Cyrus Greengrass said, “Mr Potter, since it is your guardianship under discussion, and you’re present in this courtroom, please share your thoughts.”

Harry said, “Well, sir, the fact that I’m sitting next to Sirius Black instead of next to my headmaster, should say something to every person in this room.”

“What do you especially like about Lord Black, or what do you especially dislike about Professor Dumbledore?”

“Sir, I’m not a law-wizard, but I read my parents’ wills, and I think I should have been raised by the Longbottoms. Or by Madam Amelia Bones. Instead, Dumbledore put me with my mum’s Muggle sister and her family—”

Lucius Malfoy blurted out, “Dumbledore made you be raised by Muggles?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. He stared into Dumbledore’s eyes and said, “Muggles who hated magic, who tried to beat it out of me. Several times, my uncle broke bones. And never once did Dumbledore check up on me.”

Lucius Malfoy moved for the vote then. Sirius’s guardianship over Harry was approved by a wide margin.

The eyes of Albus Dumbledore, Harry noticed, were not twinkling when the results of the vote were announced.

Ted left the courtroom immediately; Sirius told Harry he wanted to. Amelia Bones had been in the courtroom the entire time, but Sirius made no attempt to speak with her afterwards.

Before Sirius and Harry left the courtroom, Harry made a point to thank Lucius Malfoy for his help. Harry had plans how to kill Lucius Malfoy and the rest of the Death Eaters—but in the meantime, it never hurt to be polite.

****

“Wow, you’re Sirius Black!” a woman said when Sirius and Harry stepped into a Ministry of Magic elevator.

Harry was surprised. The usual in-person reaction to Sirius, after his time in Azkaban, was fear of a mass-murderer. Indeed, everyone else moved as far away as the walls of the elevator would allow.

“Level Five, please,” Sirius Black said. Then he turned around to face the woman. “Harry and I are going to grab a bite at the Executive Dining Room—”

“Harry Potter?” other voices said. “Harry Potter is here?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“—would you care to join us?” Sirius finished smoothly.

“Why yes, for a few minutes,” the woman said. “I’m Heather. Miss Heather Tidwell of New House Tidwell.”

“A Muggle-born,” someone muttered.

“A Mundane-born,” Heather corrected, her voice annoyed.

“Level Five,” the elevator announced.

Sirius, Harry and Heather stepped out of the elevator. Thirtyish Heather began stroking her brunette hair as she looked at Sirius (who also was in his thirties). She said, “I can talk only for five minutes or so, then I have to get back to work—”

“Oh? Where do you work?” Sirius asked.

“Obliviator Headquarters. I wanted to be an Obliviator, but I’m only the receptionist.”

“But you’re the perfect receptionist for the Obliviators—your face is unforgettable.”

And not only your face, Harry thought. Whilst Heather was not as bodacious as the 1998 version of Susan Bones, Heather was still an eyeful below the neck.

Meanwhile, this same Heather had smacked Sirius’s arm. “Flatterer.”

Then she looked Sirius up and down, and her voice became a purr: “You’re quite handsome yourself, Lord Black.”

Sirius’s voice was a lion’s purr: “Please, call me Sirius.”

Harry said, “Even though ‘serious’ is what he never is.”

Heather looked intently into Sirius’s eyes and said, “I’m glad you were given a trial. I’m glad they found you innocent. I’m glad you’re free now, though you should have been free the entire time.”

Then Heather looked nervously at the elevator call-rune. “I’m enjoying this, more than you can know, but I guess I need to get back to work.”

“No problem,” Sirius said. “Tell me how to spell your name.”

Harry smiled. Sirius was doing the wizarding-world equivalent of asking Heather for her telephone number.

Heather answered, “Heather Tidwell, H-E-A-T-H-E-R,” pause, “T-I-D-W-E-L-L. But are you sure you want to ask out a Mundane-born?”

Sirius’s voice turned, well, serious. “I was in the same year as Harry’s mother Lily. She was the finest kind of human being, and a genius of a witch. She invented spells—seventh year, I watched her do it. Both Harry and I believe that Lily invented the spell that saved Harry’s life. But Lily had never heard of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight’ till she came to Hogwarts. So to answer your question: I have no objection to dating a Mug—Mundane-born.”

Heather shot Harry—and especially Sirius—a big smile as she stepped into the elevator.

Before the elevator doors closed, Sirius called out, “I’ll definitely owl you.”

****

Minutes later, in the Executive Dining Room

Harry asked Sirius if he was still a member of the Order of the Phoenix. The Order had fought Voldemort and Death Eaters, back during the (First Voldemort) Blood War.

“Yes, technically I’m still a member,” Sirius answered, shrugging. Clearly Sirius thought that, because Wizarding Britain was at peace now, his membership in the Order was only boring trivia.

Harry pressed on: “And all of you Order members had to swear, on your magic, an oath of obedience to Dumbles, right?”

“Yeah?” Sirius answered, in a Where are you going with this? tone of voice.

“So I figure, the oath is still in play. If Dumbles orders you to take me to the Dursleys this Christmas and next summer, you must obey. If Dumbles orders you to fetch ten thousand galleons from my trust vault, hand it to him, and not tell me, you must obey.”

Sirius choked.

Harry continued, “So what’s the practical difference between before, with Dumbles being able to decide my life as my magical guardian, and now, with you deciding my life as my legal guardian except when Dumbles orders you otherwise?”

Sirius stared at Harry in horror. Then he asked Harry if he could borrow a Potter house-elf.

Within seconds, Sirius summoned Kreacher and ordered him to fetch a quill and ink bottle from home. Sirius scribbled briefly; then Sirius had Greyclay deliver Sirius’s written resignation from Dumbledore’s Order. (Sirius did not trust Kreacher with this job.)

Harry felt deep relief. Not only did Sirius’s resignation from the Order solve a big problem about where Harry would live, but it also prevented a future item of Harry’s distress. Harry of 1995 and 1996 had hated seeing Dumbledore stroll into Number 12 Grimmauld Place and in essence take it over, with Sirius soon thereafter getting disrespected by Molly Weasley in his own home. Now these things would never happen.

****

A half-hour later, back at Hogwarts

The Great Hall was holding lunch when Harry and Sirius, both of them grinning like loons, walked in. As soon as Dumbles saw the pair of them, he jumped off his golden throne as if his chair were on fire, murmured some words to McGonagall, then hurried towards his office.

Harry led Sirius to the Ravenclaw table. Second-year Ravenclaws Marietta Edgecombe and Cho Chang glared at Harry; he smiled cruelly back at them.

Harry had just introduced beaming Hermione and grinning Sirius to each other when McGonagall hurried up. “The headmaster wants to see you two in his office,” she said.

“We’ll get there when we get there,” Sirius said lazily. “I waited for that man for ten years. It’ll do him good for him to have to wait for me.”

McGonagall’s lips thinned in disapproval, then she walked away.

In the next five minutes, Harry dragged Sirius to other tables to meet his other friends, though Sirius meeting Susan Bones was clearly awkward for both. Oddly, Neville and Draco were missing.

Harry was not friends with the Weasley Twins (in this lifetime), but he introduced the Twins and Sirius, with Harry casually mentioning that “Sirius was known to his three other close friends as ‘Padfoot,’ and the four of them were unequaled at managing their mischief. Likewise, these two have the same uncanny ability to avoid professors at times.”

George: “You were one—”

Fred: “—of the Marauders?”

Sirius: “You two have the Map?”

Harry, the Slytherin-couldabeen, knew that he had just earned himself a Gringotts vault’s worth of goodwill from three pranksters. This ought to be worth something, right?

****

Just before Sirius and Harry walked out of the Great Hall to meet with Dumbledore, Sirius and Harry found both Potions professors, Snape and Andromeda, waiting for them.

“Lord Black,” Snape said coolly.

“Professor Snape,” Sirius said, just as coolly.

“I accept your apology,” Snape said to Sirius. “I agree that we should end our,” he paused, “enmity for the benefit of this remarkable young man. I apologise to you, Sirius Black, for my own excesses—which towards you four, were many.”

Sirius said, “Thank you, Severus. I accept your apology.”

“This is so cool!” Harry said. “I hope that one day, you two will be friends.”

Snape gave Harry the “Snape look,” then said, “He and I never will be friends. But I no longer will spit in my cauldron at the mention of his name.”

Andromeda Tonks grabbed Sirius by his shoulders—then pulled him in for a hug. Harry was amazed; in his experience, Purebloods don’t hug. Andromeda said to Sirius, “I’m so proud of you, stepping up to raise Harry. I remember you with little Nymphadora—you’re going to be a brilliant almost-father to Harry.”

“I hope so, Andi,” Sirius replied. “I sure hope so.”

****

In the headmaster’s office

“Ah, Sirius, Harry, come in,” said Dumbledore. “A sherbet lemon before we start?”

“What do you want, Albus?” demanded Sirius.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Sirius, I received your resignation from the Order. I ask you to tear it up. If word of this gets out, other Order members will think that you don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you, and I’m not tearing up my resignation. Harry pointed out that by resigning, I’m free of my oath of obedience to you, Albus.”

Dumbledore now looked at Harry. “I’m so disappointed in you, Harry my boy, that you are spreading slanders about me. I have used that oath of obedience in the past only for the Greater Good.”

Harry retorted, “Where did you hide my 107 thousand galleons? Unflattering words aren’t slander if they’re true.”

Harry looked at Sirius. “Since we’ve answered his question about your Order membership, may we leave now? I know Hermione wants to pick my brain about this morning’s trial, before our first flying class.”

“Actually, Sirius,” said Dumbledore, “I asked you here to discuss a most important matter. I want you and me to work together to keep Harry safe.”

Alarm bells went off in Harry’s head. “He’s getting dodgy with his wording, Sirius.”

To Dumbledore, Harry said, “You let there be a third-floor corridor in this school, on the right-hand side, that can cause a very painful death—”

“What?” said Sirius.

“—but you evidently consider this to be ‘safe.’ There is a colony of giant spiders within walking distance of the castle; this doesn’t bother you either. So pray tell, what does Albus Dumbledore consider unsafe?”

Dumbledore ignored Harry’s taunt. He said, “Sirius, when Harry isn’t in school, when he’s away from the castle during winter hols, Easter hols and the summer hols, he must be returned to the Dursleys—”

“Are you out of your mind, old man?” Sirius yelled. “During holidays, Harry will be spending time with me, at Grimmauld Place.”

“Grimmauld Place is not safe for Harry! Your house doesn’t have Lily’s blood-protection on it. The house where Lily’s sister and Lily’s nephew live is safest for Harry.”

“ ‘Safest’?” Harry repeated. “Only in the sense that ‘the Leader of the Light’ Albus Dumbledore claims Voldemort can’t get to me there. Otherwise the Dursley house is the unsafest place on the planet.”

Then Harry looked at Sirius and said, “Please magically lock the door. I don’t want anyone accidentally walking in on me.”

Both Sirius and Dumbledore looked puzzled, but Sirius cast the Locking Charm, Colloportus.

Harry took off his Hogwarts robes, then said, “I’ve been taking growth and healing potions for a bit over a month....”

Harry began removing his shirt, trousers, socks and shoes, till he stood only in his pants (underwear).

“...So imagine how I looked before I could visit the goblin healers. Vernon Dursley broke bones, and he also whipped my back with his belt. Dudley Dursley punched me in the kidneys several times; I peed red for a while. Lily’s sister Petunia, who supposedly is the entire reason I’ve been forced to live there, once hit me with a frying pan and gave me a concussion. My magical body has healed me a lot during the last ten years—otherwise I’d be dead.”

“Harry my boy—”

“I’m not your boy! Take a good look, chessmaster! Voldemort gave me only one scar, on my forehead, and no broken bones. All the other scars, and all of my broken bones? They’re on you. You’re worse than Voldemort!”

The headmaster’s office was silent; not even the portraits spoke.

Sirius said calmly, “Please get dressed, Harry.”

Sirius looked at Dumbledore and declared, “Harry will not set foot in the Dursley house ever again.” A second’s pause, then: “But I might pay them a visit.” Sirius smiled.

****

After lunch
The first Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw flying lesson

Harry did not go flying off after anyone’s Remembrall, or after anyone’s anything. Harry did not perform any death-defying stunts on a broom. No overexcited Head of House press-ganged Harry onto the House Quidditch team.

Instead, Harry helped nervous Muggle-borns Hermione Granger and Justin Finch-Fletchley become more confident on a broom.

“It’s just like riding a bicycle,” he said to them—an analogy that no wizard-raised flying instructor would have thought to make. “When you’re a little kid, the first time you get on the bike, you’re scared that the bike will fall over and you’ll skin your leg, right?” Both Hermione and Justin nodded. “Then soon you figure out that the bike won’t fall over whilst it’s moving. Neither one of you has any fear of riding a bicycle now, right?”

Hermione argued, “But a flying-broom doesn’t have anything like the gyroscopic principle to keep me upright.”

“True. But it does have a Sticking Charm that turns-on whenever the broom is moving. A bludger can knock you off the broom, but you won’t fall off the broom.”

Luckily for Harry, neither Justin nor Hermione asked Harry how he was so good at flying a broom, since supposedly this was his first time on a broom, the same as they. But Harry was sure that when Hermione was back on the ground, the question would come up. (It’s Delphi knowledge would be his answer.)

Harry took the two newbie broom-flyers about on a slowly moving, gently upward-sloped, oblong helix. By the time Madam Hooch ended the class, Hermione and Justin were flying at treetop level, about thirty feet off the ground.

When the feet of Harry, Hermione and Justin were back on the grass, Madam Hooch beamed at Harry. “Ten points to Ravenclaw, for helping first-time flyers overcome their fear of flying.”

“You know what?” Justin asked. “That was actually fun! Scary at the start, but fun at the end.”

“Yes,” said Hermione, sounding amazed, “it actually was fun.”

****

That evening, at the end of the Ravenclaw table

The all-Houses firsties again had gathered to eat—but two boys were missing.

“Where are Neville and Draco?” asked Hannah Abbott.

“Broom accidents,” Millicent Bulstrode said. Hermione gasped.

Daphne Greengrass explained, “In Gryffindor/Slytherin flying class this morning, Neville’s broom shot up like mad, with him on it. Then he fell off when he was forty, fifty feet up. He broke his wrist, and was sent to the hospital wing.”

Susan Bones said, “A broken wrist? Skele-Gro will fix him up. He’ll be back with us tomorrow. And Draco?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “He and Bilious, two Slytherins, had a contest to see who could be the most Gryffindor brash and thoughtless. Both boys flew into the ground at high speed. They’ll both be in the hospital wing for a while, then they’ll both get detentions till they’re grandfathers; Professor Snape was peeved. Madam Hooch was peeved too—two school brooms were turned into kindling.”

****

Halfway through dinner, Susan got up from her bench, and walked over to where Harry was sitting. She whispered in Harry’s ear, “Look at the High Table. Notice who’s missing? Professor Snape. After dinner, I’ll tell you and Hermione where he is.”

Then Susan walked back to her piece of bench and sat down.

****

After dinner had ended and all the other all-Houses firsties had left the end of the Ravenclaw table, Susan pulled Harry and Hermione aside.

“Aunt Amelia,” said Susan, “is on a date, somewhere in Muggle London. She’s with Professor Snape. Please don’t tell anyone else for a while, and especially please don’t tell Sirius Black.”

“For right now, I won’t,” Harry said. “But at some point, I’ll tell him.”

Hermione asked Susan, “Why are you telling us?”

“Because you two are the only two people in the castle who like Professor Snape. Myself?” Susan made the rocking-hand gesture. “I haven’t decided yet.”

****

After dinner, Harry and Hermione walked to the hospital wing. If Hermione wondered why Harry knew the way so well, she did not ask.

Harry and Hermione sympathised with Neville’s bad luck, and teased Draco for his “Gryffindorness.” Ron Weasley was in the bed next to Draco, but Harry ignored Ron completely.

Chapter 15: First Time at the Video Arcade

Chapter Text

The next morning
Saturday, 7th September

Harry had spent only a month and a half in the past, and already he saw differences between his previous lifetime and this lifetime.

In Harry’s previous lifetime, Sirius Black had not enjoyed a good reputation since the day he had run off to chase down Pettigrew. Sirius had never been put on trial, either after his arrest or after his escape. Not only had Sirius’s name never been cleared, but Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge had blamed everything except excess fog in London on “that escaped murderer, Sirius Black.”

But in this lifetime, Sirius had been acquitted, after being questioned under Veritaserum—everyone knew he had not done the things he had been gaoled for. And more recently, at his trial for Harry Potter’s guardianship, when Dumbledore had tried to say that Sirius Black was too crazy to act as a fit parent? Again the Wizengamot had cleared Sirius Black—and by a wide margin.

In Harry’s previous lifetime, Sirius never had dared to walk into the offices of the Daily Prophet—if Sirius had been so foolish, he would have been arrested and, soon after, Kissed. But in this lifetime, Sirius Black, whilst looking lordly in his Black robes, strolled alongside Harry into the Daily Prophet office. He calmly asked the reporters, “Is there any mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Prophet who wants to hear what I have to say? Not Rita Skeeter though—not that I’m prejudiced against animagi, being one myself...”

(Rita Skeeter, Harry saw, went white when Sirius said this in the open-office newsroom of the Daily Prophet.)

But Sirius Black had not come in alone; besides bringing Harry, Sirius brought with him his law-wizard, Ted Tonks. Editor-in-chief Barnabas Cuffe, ten minutes into his interview with Sirius, found out why Ted Tonks was there.

****

Sirius’s interview started out funny. Sirius told a Hogwarts story about the time when Narcissa Black, having discovered that her friend, Angela Filch, was missing and that Narcissa’s younger Gryffindor cousin, Sirius Black, was missing, went looking for them together. When she found them together (in a broom cupboard), she dragged them out, accusing Sirius of “Corrupting innocent Angela, who is a better witch than you deserve!” (This despite the fact that Angela was two years older than Sirius.) Narcissa, whilst she was yelling at Sirius, was Stinging-Hexing him so badly that he needed to go to the hospital wing afterwards.

(Narcissa Malfoy was quoted in the same news article: “I would’ve hit Sirius with worse than Stinging Hexes, but I wanted to stay in Professor Slughorn’s favour. I knew that even at thirteen, Sirius Black was an evil charmer.”)

In the interview, Sirius stated publicly that he was an animagus, his form being a black Grim. (“I’ve scared some people, without meaning to.”) Sirius said that he had become a animagus at Hogwarts, along with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew—but Sirius did not say why. Then Sirius casually remarked, “Being able to turn into a big dog was how I stayed sane in Azkaban. Dementors, you see, ignore animals.”

This led to Sirius describing the horrors of Azkaban: not only the bad food, the beatings by the guards, the rats and the shouted insults from imprisoned Death Eaters, but the crushing depression caused by the Dementors. Adding to this depression: realising that neither his girlfriend, Amelia Bones, nor “the wizard in charge of everything and everyone, Albus Dumbledore,” would lift a finger to organise Sirius’s trial.

Sirius spent one sentence of his interview telling the world what he thought of Amelia these days, but he spent quite a bit of time bin-talking Dumbledore. Dumbledore had known that Pettigrew, not Sirius, had been the Secret Keeper for the Godric Hollow house. Then Dumbledore, through Rubeus Hagrid, “stole” the toddler Harry Potter out of Sirius’s arms. Even worse, Hagrid had brought toddler Harry to the home of Lily Potter’s Muggle sister, “which became for Harry Potter, a ten-year imprisonment in a house of horrors.” Sirius then concluded, “Both Harry Potter and I have suffered for ten years, grievously and entirely needlessly, because of Albus Dumbledore.”

(Harry Potter was quoted as saying, “I don’t want my godfather’s words to be taken as ‘Muggles are bad people.’ This is the general belief amongst wizards and witches, but it isn’t my own belief. From age one to age eleven, all I knew were Muggles. Most Muggles are ordinary—not really bad, not really good. A few Muggles are brilliant—it was two Muggles who took me and a Muggle-born friend to King’s Cross. But a few Muggles are a waste of space—too bad for me, all three of my Muggle relatives are this sort.”)

Then Sirius turned the interview over to Ted Tonks, who announced, “Sirius Black, who is the Black of Black and the Wizengamot-appointed guardian to Harry James Potter, is suing GL Press, Roy Locke a.k.a Gilderoy Lockhart and Albus Dumbledore. Black alleges fraud, improper enrichment and invasion of privacy. Since 1986, Roy Locke has written, and GL Press has published, supposedly-true books about Harry Potter that have no basis in fact. There is no person alive in Britain named Rowena Potter. Any men in Britain named George Potter are Muggles, and are not related to Harry Potter. Harry Potter has never been to Wales, and has never lived in Pembrokeshire County in Wales. The real Harry Potter has lived with Muggle relatives near, but not in, London. He did not grow up in a palace, but in an ordinary Muggle house. He has never battled any monster. These books were written without Harry Potter’s permission. Gilderoy Lockhart has received royalties from these books; also receiving royalties: Albus Dumbledore, who was Harry’s self-proclaimed ‘magical guardian’ without any justification from Harry’s parents’ wills. On the other hand, not one knut has been paid into any of Harry Potter’s vaults for the use of his name and for the use of his one-time likeness.”

“Do I hear correctly?” asked Barnabas Cuffe. “You’re suing Dumbledore?”

Sirius grinned. “With great pleasure, I might add.”

****

A few hours later
Lunchtime in the Great Hall

Near the High Table, an ice-cloud suddenly puffed into existence. From this ice-cloud emerged a blue-and-white phoenix with a parchment envelope in its beak.

The phoenix flew up to Albus Dumbledore and dropped the envelope in his lap, before the bird disappeared with another ice-cloud puff.

Albus Dumbledore had been served.

****

Meanwhile in London

After Sirius and Harry had been interviewed at the Daily Prophet, they had ventured out to Muggle London. There they had found a video arcade. Neither the man nor the boy had been in a video arcade before.

Sirius had needed to have it explained to him what space aliens were, and racecars, and that zombies were what Muggles called inferi. Sirius furthermore had needed to be told that space aliens and zombies all had to be killed, and that racecars all had to be surpassed. But Sirius had caught on quickly. Sirius and Harry had spent several fun hours saving pixelated damsels in distress from evil monsters, and burning pixelated tyre rubber. Sometimes Sirius and Harry had competed directly against each other.

The time spent had not been completely joyous, however. Computer graphics in 1991 hardly created a convincing illusion; and video-arcade joysticks had a tendency to slip out for a cigarette break instead of being reliable.

Both Sirius and Harry quickly had learnt, to their sorrow, the first rule of video games: If you stay predictable for too long, you die. Sirius and Harry each had died many times, sometimes in gory ways.

After spending several hours at the video arcade, both the thirty-something wizard and the teen wizard were hungry. They stopped in at a curry place. Harry had never eaten curry before—Hogwarts never served it, and Vernon Dursley hated everything Indian on general principles. Curry made Sirius nostalgic—the last time he had eaten curry had been with the Marauders plus pregnant Lily.

Harry was having the time of his (seventh) life. Going to play arcade video games and eating curry were two things that Harry never had done at the Dursleys, and never expected to do. And in his previous lifetime, whenever Harry had been at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, both of them had been essentially thrown in prison. If Harry had dared to suggest video games and curry for Sirius and himself whilst they were stuck at Grimmauld Place, the reaction from both Dumbledore and Molly would have been immediate and unyielding: “Absolutely not! I forbid it! Harry, you wouldn’t be safe.” But now, during this carefree morning, there was no sign of the whiskered wanker or of Howler Molly.

After Sirius and Harry ate curry, Sirius hired a taxi and took himself and Harry to Grimmauld Place.

****

Minutes later

As the taxi drove away, Sirius and Harry stood across the street from a row of townhouses.

“Look across the street, Harry,” Sirius said, “and tell me what you see.”

What Harry saw was Number 12—but he had to make himself not look at it. Harry answered Sirius’s question with a lie: “The numbering is broken. Nine, ten, eleven, then thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.”

Sirius chuckled, then held out a piece of parchment. “Read this to yourself, then look across the street again.”

The home of Sirius Orion Black is at Number 12, Grimmauld Place in London.

“Wow,” Harry said. Then he described not what he saw, but what he remembered from three years ago: “Number 11 and Number 13 are pulling apart, and there’s another townhouse between them.”

Sirius nodded. “The townhouse that just appeared? It’s where we’re going.”

****

Inside Number 12, Grimmauld Place

Amongst the seventeen pages of notes and plans that Harry had brought with him from the afterlife, was a plan for what Harry would do as soon as he stepped into Number 12 (after Sirius had silenced the portrait of his mad mother).

Now Harry looked at Sirius and said in a (fake) trembling, nervous voice, “Sirius? Voldemort is here!”

“WHAT?”

“I sense evil—his evil. I know what his evil feels like, because I had his evil in my scar for years. His evil is here.”

They spent a minute trying to think of ways they could find “You-Know-Who” within the townhouse. Harry let Sirius be the one to think of calling Kreacher—

“Dementor-addled, disgraceful, shameful, blood-traitor master calls Kreacher?” the old and surly house-elf asked.

Harry squatted down till he was roughly eye-level with Kreacher. “Kreacher, I’m Harry Potter, Sirius’s godson.”

“And a filthy halfblood,” said Kreacher.

“Kreacher, stop with your sh*t!” yelled Sirius.

Harry calmly replied, “Perhaps I am. But right now, I need your help. I sense something of Voldemort’s here. Do you know what it is, and where it is?”

A minute later, Slytherin’s locket lay at Harry’s feet. Sobbing(!) Kreacher was telling Harry (and Sirius, who was gobsmacked) about the house-elf’s greatest failure: the last order of Kreacher’s beloved master Regulus, an order which Kreacher had been unable to obey.

“Wait, hold on,” Sirius said. “Reggie turned on Voldemort? YES!”

Harry pretended to think. “I might have an idea, based on something that Mum wrote in one of her diaries. Sirius, have you ever heard of a place at Hogwarts called the Room of Requirement? It becomes whatever kind of room you need it to be.”

“We read about it,” said Sirius, “but we never found it. A room that could become the perfect prank laboratory? We would have killed to find it.”

“Let me try something,” Harry said. “Greyclay.” Pop.

Harry looked at Sirius and Kreacher and said, “I’m going to try and set up the Room of Requirement so that I can destroy the locket there. If I can do this, then I will send Greyclay to bring both of you into the Room of Requirement. Kreacher deserves to see this for himself.”

Sirius smacked his forehead. “Asking a house-elf to find the Room of Requirement—why didn’t we think of that?”

Harry looked at Greyclay and said, “Take me into Hogwarts, to just outside wherever the Room of Requirement is.” (Harry worded his command this way so that Sirius would not know that Harry and Greyclay both already knew exactly where the Room of Requirement was.) Pop.

****

Harry, because he could “smell Voldemort,” supposedly just happened to find another Voldemort-contaminated object, the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, once he was in the Room of Requirement. (The Room of Lost Things, where the Diadem had been found, could be reached by walking through a door in the Room of Requirement.)

Once Harry had the diadem in the Room of Requirement, he began a nondestructive horcrux-purging ritual that Salazar Slytherin had taught him.

With conjured chalk, Harry followed a conjured sheet of instructions. Harry drew a heptagram (seven-sided pentagram); inside the heptagram, Harry drew an equilateral triangle.

Before bringing Sirius and Kreacher in, Harry had one little thing left to do. Harry summoned the Spirit of Hogwarts and, using his Designated Secret Substitute authority, gave Sirius (and hence Kreacher) one-time permission to enter the castle.

After doing all this, Harry had Greyclay bring Sirius, Kreacher and the locket from Grimmauld Place into the Room of Requirement. Kreacher was trembling. Harry said to Kreacher, “I see you shiver with anticipation.”

Harry handed the conjured “Instructions” to Sirius and said, “Hold this close to my face, but off to the side.”

“Harry?” said Sirius. “Four lines of these instructions are just the letter ‘S,’ repeated.”

“Oh, those lines are Parseltext. I can read them just fine.”

“Harry, you speak snake-language? Like You-Know—?”

“And like Mum. I’m not eeeevil, Sirius.”

Harry put the locket inside the equilateral triangle, being careful not to step on any chalk lines. He explained to Sirius and to the two house-elves, “I’ll do the locket first, since Kreacher has been waiting for this for years.”

Harry pointed his wand at the chalk figure on the floor and hissed, “§Activate the trigram inside the heptagram.§” The lines of the chalk figure flashed with bright white light.

Harry pointed his wand at the locket and hissed, “§Open.§”

A black wraith burst out of the locket and turned towards Harry, its face angry. But no part of the wraith could pass beyond the triangle-shaped column above the chalk triangle.

Harry pointed his wand at the wraith and hissed, “§Contain this soul-piece, the abomination.§”

A floating sphere of white sparkles appeared, about five feet in diameter. The sphere then shrank; and as it did, the walls of the sphere further limited where the wraith could go. The sphere of white sparkles shrank till it was entirely within the triangular column; the sphere of white sparkles by then was slightly less than a foot in diameter. The wraith of Voldemort was now screaming in anger and failing to escape—the angry wraith showed as swirling black smoke inside the white sparkles.

Harry pointed his wand at the sphere of white sparkles. “§Destroy this soul-piece, the abomination, utterly.§”

The white sparkles turned red; then the sphere again shrank and shrank. The wraith screamed, now in agony, but could not escape. When the sphere of red sparkles shrank down to nothingness, the screaming stopped.

Kreacher was jumping up and down now, and weeping, he was so happy.

The locket of Slytherin was only a locket now—though it was a locket created by a Hogwarts founder. Harry pointed his wand at it and hissed, “§Close.§” The locket obediently closed. Harry handed the locket to Greyclay, saying, “A little later, put this inside my super-duper student trunk.”

After this, de-horcruxing the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was straightforward. Again Harry watched a wraith of Voldemort die screaming in agony. As before, Harry gave the de-horcruxed Diadem of Ravenclaw to Greyclay.

Harry said to Greyclay, “Put these in my trunk, but don’t be seen.” Pop.

Harry pointed his wand at the chalk figure on the floor and hissed, “§Deactivate the trigram inside the heptagram.§” The chalk lines turned grey for an instant.

Harry asked Sirius to get rid of the conjured instruction sheet and to clean the chalk lines off the floor—since Harry supposedly did not know those spells yet. Then Harry asked Kreacher to return Sirius and him to Grimmauld Place. Pop.

Back in Grimmauld Place, Harry thought, Only the Diary and the Gaunt Ring are left.

****

Minutes later, still at Grimmauld Place

Sirius and Harry wrote a letter to Remus Lupin, who lived “somewhere out there.” Fortunately, the magic of postal owls meant that Sirius could send his friend a letter, despite having no guess at all where the man was.

Sirius’s part of the letter said basically, “Oi, bro! I’m out of prison, I was innocent the whole time, now I’m living in ‘the sad place,’ and I’m Harry’s guardian. Write me back—you and I have much we need to talk about.”

Harry’s part of the letter said, “Hello, ‘Uncle Moony.’ I’m eleven now and in Ravenclaw. I’ve a close friend, Hermione, who’s a Muggle-born girl and she’s wicked smart. (She’s Ravenclaw too.) Sirius says that history is repeating itself! Please write to me.”

****

The next morning: Sunday, 8th September
The Ossuary (Bones Manor)

Amelia Bones put down her copy of the Daily Prophet and ordered her house-elf Tibia to fetch a quill and an ink bottle for her. Then Amelia began a letter to Ted Tonks, who was Sirius’s law-wizard.

Dear Mr Tonks,

I read in today’s newspaper that Sirius Black and you are suing the people responsible for those fraudulent Harry Potter books, one of whom is Albus Dumbledore.

I’m writing you as the concerned aunt of Susan Bones, one of many magical children who read those books and believed they were true.

A little over a month ago, 1st August, I interviewed Dumbledore about Harry Potter’s life. I conducted this informal interview mainly as a favour for my niece Susan. Every word that I said or that Dumbledore said was written down with a Dicta-Quill. I’m sending you a copy of what the Dicta-Quill wrote down.

I didn’t question Dumbledore in my role of Director of the DMLE, only as Susan’s aunt. Nonetheless, I point out that lying to an Auror is a crime, even if the Auror in question is buying bangers at the butcher shop at the time.

Amelia Bones

P.S. Please tell Sirius that I hope he’s doing well.

Amelia did not write in her letter that, whilst asking Dumbledore the questions that Susan could not ask was a reason for Amelia questioning the wily wizard, it was not the only reason. Amelia had hoped that Dumbledore would incriminate himself by lying to her, and he had done exactly this.

****

An hour later
Hogwarts SOW&W

Amelia had gathered enough evidence. She and five Aurors showed up at Hogwarts to arrest Dumbledore for crimes related to his treatment of Harry Potter: child endangerment (multiple counts), criminal negligence, kidnapping and accessory to child abuse.

Furthermore—Amelia did not write this down anywhere, but it was a big factor in her deciding to make the arrest—Director Ragnok had told Amelia that Dumbledore would be arrested by the goblins if he entered Gringotts. Which meant that Dumbledore would be unable to bag up coins enough to bribe anyone to release him from DMLE custody, or to bribe anyone to acquit him at his trial.

Amelia, once she arrested Dumbledore, wanted him to stay arrested, then to be convicted by the Wizengamot, then to be imprisoned at Azkaban, then to stay imprisoned. Was it too much to ask that someone rich and powerful face justice too?

So Amelia arrested Dumbledore. Alas, by 11 a.m., before Amelia even had finished the parchmentwork, the “Leader of the Light” was a free wizard again. Why? Because Fudge pardoned him.

Cornelius Fudge, when told by Dumbledore that the Hogwarts headmaster could not pay for a pardon, smiled like a shark and said, “I’ll pardon you without a bribe, then you’ll owe me a favour.”

When Amelia heard this, she was almost frustrated enough to scream.

****

Ten days later
Wednesday, 18th September; afternoon

Professor Andromeda Tonks and Harry were having their third weekly tea since Professor Tonks had been hired at Hogwarts. Harry, with Professor Tonks’s okay, always invited Hermione and Professor Snape to attend these teas, for which Hermione was fully thankful.

Both adults could fill conversation with talk about potions, of course, but their different perspectives fascinated Hermione. Professor Snape enjoyed theoretical research, whilst Professor Tonks, a Healer, was interested in the practical uses for whatever potions she brewed.

But what much more fascinated Hermione was that all three other people at tea had a connexion to the Muggle world: Harry and Professor Snape were Muggle-raised, and Professor Tonks had married a Muggle-born.

Hermione learnt so much during these teas. Last week, Professor Tonks tactfully, and Professor Snape with brutal honesty, both had told Hermione that she raising her hand to answer every question in every class only resulted in the other students hating her. If she wanted to have friends, Hermione was told, she needed to share the glory—to be the second or third student to raise his or her hand, or to raise her hand only when nobody else could answer the professor’s question.

Hermione had been told this by the Potions professors a week ago, and in the last week she had changed how she had acted in class. She had been shocked to discover that when she let others answer questions in class and earn points for a correct answer, she no longer was hated as the “know-it-all” anymore.

For the first two of these teas, Hermione had enjoyed the time spent together, and she suspected that Professor Snape also had enjoyed this social gathering (but it was hard to tell with him). It had been easy to tell that Harry and Professor Tonks also had enjoyed the tea, biscuits and conversation.

But today? Harry’s body was here, and he occasionally spoke—but clearly his mind was elsewhere. What has Harry so distracted? Hermione wondered.

****

“Miss Granger,” Snape said now, “are you aware that you and Mr Potter are the most-discussed first-year students amongst the professors?”

Hermione glanced at Harry; he had not reacted. Hermione asked, “What are you professors saying about us?”

Professor Tonks was beaming. “Everyone agrees that Harry shows breathtaking levels of leadership.”

Harry did not react to the compliment.

Professor Tonks looked at Hermione again; now she was no longer smiling. “As for you, dear...”

Professor Snape said, “In your case, after two and a half weeks in this school, a clear pattern has emerged. A pattern that is,” he paused, “of concern.”

“What sort of pattern?” Hermione asked. “Why the concern?” Hermione felt panic.

Snape, instead of answering those questions, said, “Tomorrow you have an essay due for Professor Tonks. Have you finished it?”

“Oh, yes. Days ago.”

“May we see it?”

The essay was “When do you stir a potion clockwise, when do you stir a potion anticlockwise, and when do you make both sorts of stirs in the same potion?” Hermione found the essay in her book bag and laid the essay on the table.

Harry barely glanced at it.

“Hermione, you’ve done it again,” Professor Tonks said in a neutral voice.

Hermione wanted to scream WHAT IS IT I’VE DONE? But she said nothing.

Professor Snape asked, “What is the assigned length for this essay?”

Professor Tonks and Hermione said in unison, “Twelve inches.”

“As I thought,” Professor Snape replied.

He then conjured a yardstick, and laid it on the parchment. “Your essay is twenty-six inches.” As he vanished the yardstick, he looked at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. “Going so far beyond the limit as you have, could be seen as rambling.”

“Professor, I never ramble,” Hermione replied, her face red. Rambling people were undisciplined, and she was never that!

Then Hermione said, with a pleading face, “I want to show that I understand the material.”

“Hermione, dear,” said Professor Tonks, “by now, even the professors who teach only older students are aware that you, Miss Hermione Granger, already know the subject when you pick up a quill. Listen, you already have proven this to us in only two and a half weeks. Move on.”

Professor Snape now conjured a self-inking quill and a meterstick. He laid the meterstick on Hermione’s essay.

“Here is what I would do, were I still teaching first-year dunderheads. Twelve inches is 30.5 centimetres.” Hermione nodded; she understood the conversion.

At 30.5 centimetres below the top of Hermione’s first handwritten line, Professor Snape drew a dashed red line.

Professor Snape continued, “I would allow you another 10 percent—that’s 3.0 centimetres. But at 33.5 centimetres below the top of your first written line, I would draw a solid red line”—Snape did this. “Any text that fell under or after this red line, I would ignore.” His eyes bored into Hermione’s. “I completely would ignore. I would not so much as glance at.”

Hermione gulped. “That’s half of this essay ignored!”

Professor Snape then vanished the self-inking quill and the meterstick, as he again looked at Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

Harry only glanced at Hermione’s essay that now had two red lines drawn on it.

Hermione was too intimidated to ask the question that she was burning to ask, but Professor Tonks asked it: “Why is it important to us professors, Hermione, that you not write so much?”

“Erm, because you lot hate grading essays, and you don’t want to spend extra time grading mine.”

Professor Tonks laughed. “True, true. But in your case, this isn’t the only reason.”

Snape’s eyes stared into Hermione’s eyes. “I do not doubt that someday you will rise to speak about a matter that is important to you. People will be much more willing to listen to you if they can count on the fact that you will speak briefly. Do you hear me? Brevity is a practise that will serve you well, both in Hogwarts and afterwards.”

Hermione commented, “That’s a quite Slytherin reasoning for why I should shorten my essays.”

Professor Snape showed a tiny smile. “I consider that a compliment. Thank you.”

Professor Tonks said to Hermione, “You understand, I trust, that meeting the twelve-inches requirement by writing small, breaks the spirit of the length-requirement?”

Hermione nodded, then sat up straight. “I will endeavour for brevity from now on.”

Harry’s face suddenly became alive, and his eyes suddenly became aware of their surroundings. He asked Professor Snape, “May I see your Dark Mark?”

Hermione and Professor Tonks both gasped in shock at Harry’s question.

With clear reluctance, Professor Snape pulled up his left sleeve and revealed the Dark Mark on his left forearm. (Though at the moment, the disfiguration was a Light Grey Mark.)

Harry asked Professor Snape, “If I can remove this from your arm, do you want me to?”

Chapter 16: Gazer

Chapter Text

Still Wednesday, 18th September, afternoon

Harry asked Snape, “If I can remove this from your arm, do you want me to?”

Snape looked at Harry for a long time, his face expressionless. Neither Harry nor the three other people who were present, spoke.

Harry, who was seventeen years old no matter what the mirror said, could guess Snape’s thoughts. If Snape said No, I want to keep the Dark Mark, then his relationship with Harry, Andi and every professor whom Andi talked to, would sour. But if Snape said Yes, please, get rid of the Dark Mark ASAP, and word got back to Voldemort—or to Quirrell; did Snape know that Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort?—then Snape would be in a world of pain before he died soon.

Eventually, Snape looked at Harry and said, “Yes, please remove it if you can. The second-biggest regret of my life is taking the Dark Mark when I was seventeen.”

Hermione opened her mouth; Andi said to her, “Dear, don’t ask him.”

Harry said to Hermione, “I’ll tell you later.” Hermione shot Harry a hurt look of How do you know what Snape’s biggest regret is when I don’t?

Harry slid out of his chair, then told Snape, “Please rest your lower arm on something, so that it doesn’t move. I want to look at your Dark Mark sideways.”

Snape rested his forearm on the table; Harry knelt down beside the table. Seconds later, Harry said, “Yes, it’s just as I suspected, once I thought about it.”

Harry looked at Snape, Andi and Hermione. “My first guess, and I’ll bet it was yours too, is that the Dark Mark is a magical tattoo—the skin is dyed. But the Mark has a tiny bit of height above the arm—about a tenth of a millimetre. It’s a wafer that’s been glued to his arm—a wafer that has been cut out and shaded to look like a snake slithering out of the open mouth of a skull.”

Andi said, “Magicals would say it was ‘Sticking-Charmed to his arm.’ ”

Then Andi pulled out her wand. “Would Finite Incantatem take it off?”

Snape said, with remarkable calm, “Please do not cast that.” Then he explained: “A wizard whose name you do not need to know, asked his wife to cast this very spell on him. It killed him. It is rumoured that trying to slide something flat under the Dark Mark likewise is ill-advised.”

Harry said to Snape, “I will find something that will take that horror off your arm, without killing you.”

Then Harry looked at Hermione. “May I ask for your help in research?”

Hermione’s smile was like the sun. “Do you even need to ask?”

Harry said to Snape, “I’ll begin the research in two days.”

Hermione said, “Not today? Not tomorrow?”

Harry smiled at his friend (and soulmate!) and said, “Tomorrow is your birthday, Hermione. Do you think I’m going to spend those hours surrounded by books and parchment?”

“Actually,” Snape said, “from all the reports I hear about Miss Granger, such an activity would be the perfect way to honour her day.”

****

Later

After Andi’s tea ended, and dinner had been served and eaten in the Great Hall (with the other all-Houses firsties), Harry said to Hermione, “There is something I need to do. It’s Delphi stuff. I’ll see you in the library a bit later.”

“All right,” she said, looking puzzled. As Harry walked out of the Great Hall, he hoped fervently that she would not decide to follow him.

From the Great Hall, Harry climbed stairs till he was on the second floor. From there, Harry walked to the girl’s loo that had a big “OUT OF ORDER” sign hanging on the outside of one of the doors. (The paint for the sign’s lettering was faded and chipped; this sign had hung on this door for forty-eight years.)

Harry looked about, assuring himself that nobody was watching him. Then he opened the door and walked into Hogwarts’s notorious haunted lavatory.

****

Harry had let the three others at tea—and this included Hermione—believe that he would do nothing about destroying Snape’s Dark Mark before 20th September. But Harry had misled them.

In Harry’s previous lifetime, he had been in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom several times in second year. Back then, whenever Harry had been in this loo, he had had other things on his mind, rather than looking about. But now, Harry looked about.

Over the sinks was a long mirror; this mirror was cracked. The lavatory floor was damp and mouldy. When Harry walked closer to the toilet stalls, he saw that the floor was not merely damp, it was wet, and the floor was greenish from mould. The stall at the far left, whose door hung by only one hinge, had a solid-green floor, the floor there was so mouldy.

Harry had heard no sound except his own footsteps, but for what he was about to do, he needed for there to be no witnesses. So he squatted down and looked under the toilet-stalls’ doors.

He saw no female feet.

Harry was a bit surprised at this. Was there no girl in the castle who got hit by a “call of nature” so bad that she felt the need to dash to the nearest girl’s loo no matter what, even if this meant “doing her business” in Moaning Myrtle’s loo?

Apparently not. When Harry opened the door of a random stall and looked in, he saw three reasons why no living girl used this loo: 1) the loo roll was nothing more than a naked cardboard cylinder; 2) the cardboard cylinder was covered with dust, as was the toilet seat; and 3) the toilet bowl was Sahara-dry, and had dusty cobwebs in it.

Harry was now satisfied that he was the only person, living or dead, in this lavatory at the moment. He walked over to the sinks and found the snake-marked sink. But rather than speak Parseltongue now, Harry said lowly, “I ask for a meeting with the Spirit of Hogwarts.”

****

The Spirit appeared and said, “Harry, how can Hogwarts help you?”

“First, Spirit, I have an important question for you. You told me earlier that you don’t report to the headmaster or to the Marauder’ Map when someone is in the Chamber of Secrets—”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I don’t know that name.”

“Slytherin’s hidden place. ‘The Chamber of Secrets’ is what Tom Marvolo Riddle called it.”

“Duly noted. Please, go on.”

“You said before that you don’t report when someone is in the Chamber of Secrets or in the Room of Requirement. But do you know when someone is in either place?”

“Yes. My awareness extends to every inch of the castle, the grounds and every inch of the hidden tunnels.”

“So to be clear: Anytime someone goes into the Chamber of Secrets, you know. You don’t tell the headmaster or the Marauder’s Map, but you know. You knew in 1943.”

“This is correct.”

“New order: Whilst I’m a student here at Hogwarts, if anyone other than me opens the Chamber of Secrets, send a house-elf to me immediately. When this other person goes down into the Chamber, spy on him or her until he or she leaves.”

Harry thought, If Quirrellmort goes into the Chamber of Secrets, I’ll know. If possessed-Ginny goes down there next year, I’ll know from the start.

Meanwhile, the Spirit of Hogwarts was saying, “Change made.”

“Another new order: Besides you not reporting the location of anyone in the Room of Requirement or the Chamber of Secrets, don’t report anyone who is in this lavatory, for as long as I’m a student at Hogwarts. This haunted restroom is going to get much more foot-traffic in the next two months, and I don’t want Dumbledore or the Weasley Twins getting the slightest hint of this.”

“Change made.”

“Now please summon the ghost of Myrtle Warren.”

Eternally-fourteen Myrtle was not a pretty being, and not only because she was dead. Her hair was lank, she was chubby, and her face had pimples. She wore glasses. Her Hogwarts robe and her school tie were the dark grey/light grey of an unsorted firstie, not the Ravenclaw colours she had worn in life.

“BOYS AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE IN THIS BATHROOM!” ghost-Myrtle yelled at Harry. “GO! LEAVE!”

The Spirit of Hogwarts said archly, “This boy, Harry Potter, is the founders’ Designated Secret Substitute. He speaks with the founders’ authority; his commands overrule every headmaster’s. He may go anywhere he wishes, and you shall obey him in all things.”

Myrtle turned to Harry and dropped a curtsey. “Sorry, Mr Potter.”

“Please, call me Harry.” Then Harry asked Myrtle how she had died, and listened patiently whilst she told her story.

Then Harry asked Myrtle another question that he already knew the answer to, from his previous life: “Where can you go in Hogwarts?”

Myrtle answered that she was allowed to go anywhere in the castle, on the grounds or on (or in) the Black Lake; but she generally chose to avoid people.

Harry said, “You were a Ravenclaw, so I invite you, whenever I’m in the Ravenclaw common room, to join me there. Besides, I’m sure my friend Hermione will want to meet you. Just one little thing—and now I’m speaking as the Designated Secret Substitute. Myrtle, you can’t tell anyone in this castle that I’m the DSS; and you can’t tell anyone except Hermione that you met me in the lavatory.”

“I obey. I’m just mildly curious, you understand, but this girl, Hermione—she’s a girl, and she’s your friend. Is she—?”

“We’re both eleven, so the answer is, Not now.”

The Spirit of Hogwarts said, “This is so sweet, Harry, inviting Myrtle to visit you. She never is invited anywhere.”

Myrtle made the rocking-hand gesture. “Nearly Headless Nick invites me to his Happy Deathday parties, but those are not fun. But fun places? Yeah, I’m never invited to those.”

Harry looked at the Spirit of Hogwarts and said, “One last order before I go do what I came to do. This is about the Ravenclaw door-knocker that asks riddles. Beginning tonight, I want a Hogwarts house-elf there from 8:45—fifteen minutes before the curfew for first- and second-years—up through midnight—the curfew for seventh-years. This house-elf needs to be able to tell time without seeing the common-room clock, and the house-elf needs to recognise what year a given Ravenclaw student is in. What I want to happen is that if a Ravenclaw presents him- or herself to the door-knocker, and the student is within fifteen minutes of curfew or comes after curfew, I want the house-elf to say so, and I want the knocker to pass the student through the door without asking a riddle. Any seventh-years who show up after midnight, ask them the riddle! What I want is that no Ravenclaw student can be locked out of Ravenclaw Tower overnight, if one of the seventh-year prefects is abusing his or her authority and is acting like a bully.” The trick that was often pulled on Luna will not be pulled on Hermione, Harry resolved.

Meanwhile, the Spirit of Hogwarts was saying, “Change made.”

“Thank you, Spirit of Hogwarts, for your time.” The Spirit of Hogwarts curtseyed, then vanished. “As for you, Myrtle—”

Harry turned to look at the snake-sink. “§Open,§” he said. The tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets revealed itself. “§Stairs.§”

Turning back to Myrtle, Harry continued, “I would enjoy your company down here. Though I’ll understand perfectly if you decide not to join me.”

“Is it dangerous?” Myrtle asked.

“Not for you, no. I don’t think I’ll die today, but I might.”

Myrtle smiled at Harry. “If you die, I’ll let you share my toilet.” She gestured to the dark tunnel downwards. “Onwards, Harry, to your next great adventure!”

****

After the boy who was living had walked down the stairs, and the ghost-girl had glided down the stairs, they came to the door into the Chamber itself. The round, metal door, of an alarmingly big diameter, was locked shut.

“§Open,§” Harry commanded. Metal snakes on the door’s edge slithered inwards, unlocking the door; then the door opened itself.

“Shall we go in?” Harry asked.

“Eww,” said Myrtle, “you’re stepping on little skeletons.”

He shrugged. “They’re dead; they can’t harm me. Now if I saw hundreds of rat ghosts here, then I might be bothered.”

“You have something against ghosts?” Myrtle asked archly.

Harry walked from the round door, through the Chamber and towards a gigantic stone carving of a bearded man’s head. Myrtle glided beside him. Light was provided by magical lights in the ceiling that lit themselves as soon as Harry stepped into the Chamber.

Harry ignored the many statues that he walked between, of rearing cobras with their hoods spread.

The Chamber was silent except for the sounds that Harry’s own trainers made on the floor. No other living creature was visible, and Myrtle was not making a sound—

“Erm, Harry, may I ask you something?” Myrtle said. “How is it that an eleven-year-old boy is the Designated Secret Substitute? Isn’t that supposed to mean that you’re wise and mature?”

“Sorry, but I signed a contract that says I can’t answer this question. But the Sorting Hat knows all about me, and I, the wise and mature DSS, give you permission to ask the Hat anything you want, and give the Hat permission to answer you.”

Myrtle grinned at Harry. He was pretty sure that in his previous lifetime, he had never seen Myrtle smile (except when she was flirting).

Harry snapped his fingers. “Oh, I forgot something.” Adopting a posh voice, Harry commanded, “Harken, O Myrtle Warren, your wise and mature DSS commands you.” Then speaking in a regular voice, Harry said, “Today, I’m going down to the Chamber of Secrets alone. Beginning two days from now, I’ll bring Hermione down here with me sometimes. I might bring other people with me in the future. But if any professor asks, and especially if Dumbledore asks, answer as though you don’t know nuthin’ about my friends and me visiting the Chamber of Secrets. Can you do this? Can you keep a secret from Dumbledore?”

Myrtle’s ghostly face was wearing a vicious grin. “I think I can maybe manage it. I obey, with pleasure.”

By now, the boy and the ghost were close to Salazar’s big stone head. Harry said, “Myrtle, I want you to take two steps forward, then turn about to face me. Be sure to not look at Salazar Slytherin’s big head, or anything that comes out of his big head.”

“I obey,” Myrtle said, and she did. “Harry, why am I doing this?”

Harry turned serious. “I’m about to call out the basilisk that lives here—”

“A basilisk? A ‘look into its eyes and you’re dead’ actual basilisk?”

“Yes, the same basilisk that killed you in 1943—”

“A basilisk killed me?”

“Yes, when you looked into its eyes—‘Surprise, Myrtle, you’re dead.’ Well, guess what? If you look into its eyes now, it can petrify you, even as a ghost.”

“So why don’t we show wit beyond measure and bloody-hell run away?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I know a way to make the basilisk safe for both of us. But if I drop dead, I want you to get out of here without getting petrified, then go tell the Spirit of Hogwarts that I died here.”

“I’m to tell the Spirit of Hogwarts, not the headmaster?”

“Correct. Definitely not the headmaster.”

“I obey. Please don’t die—I’ve never had a breathing friend before.”

Harry took a deep breath, and straightened his back. “It’s showtime,” he muttered.

He hissed as loudly as he could, “§Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.§”

With the rumbling of stone grinding against stone, the mouth of the sculpted Slytherin-head opened.

****

Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

Up ahead, he heard a hissing voice say, “§You are a Speaker, but you aren’t the Heir of Slytherin. Who are you, and why are you here?§”

Harry told the basilisk, “§I’m not the Heir of Slytherin, I am the Trusted of Slytherin. Founder Slytherin told me that when you first were hatched, he called you Toadchild. Nowhere is this name written, so how do I know it? The one who called himself ‘the Heir of Slytherin,’ he is a deceiver. Never are you to attack children, inside the walls or outside. Your only job is to defend the castle from outside attackers.§”

“§Very well, Trusted of Slytherin. I shall obey you, and I shall not harm you and yours. You may open your eyes now. What is your name?§”

Here goes nothing, Harry thought. He opened his eyes. The head of the basilisk was sticking out of Slytherin’s mouth. The basilisk’s own mouth was closed; Harry could not see the forearm-length fang that, in his previous life, had bitten him. The scales of the basilisk’s head were a dark but vivid green—the colour of a rain forest.

Myrtle had described the deadly eyes of the basilisk as yellow. Harry now looked into the orange eyes of the basilisk—and felt nothing.

“It’s safe to turn about,” he murmured to Myrtle. She gasped when she saw the magical beast that had killed her.

To the basilisk, Harry hissed, “§My name is Harry. Is Toadchild still your name, or do you prefer I call you something else?§”

“§Harry, the Heir of Slytherin called me Mudbloodkiller.§”

Harry thought, And I thought Freak was a horrid name. Aloud, he hissed, “§What name would you give yourself if you could?§”

“§If I could name myself, I would be called Gazer.§”

“§Then Gazer is what I shall call you. Gazer, I ask you to come out into the Chamber completely.§”

From Slytherin’s mouth, Gazer slithered out—and out, and out. Myrtle gasped when she saw Gazer’s full sixty-foot length, and neither was Harry calm. He had vivid memories of running for his life from this same gigantic basilisk, five years ago.

Harry thought, What was it Godric Gryffindor said to me? “When you go back, act like a general, not like an unstubbled youth who doesn’t know which end of the sword to hold.” These days, Harry lacked all of his future beard growth, but he calmly said to Myrtle, “Let’s go, I want to find Slytherin’s library,” as if he had not just suffered the biggest scare of his seventh life.

****

Just inside Salazar Slytherin’s open mouth was a tall-ceilinged room that was big enough to hold a coiled-up sixty-foot basilisk. The room reeked of basilisk. On the left side of the room was a door-sized cutout in the wall that was too small for Gazer to pass through. Harry walked through this doorway, and Myrtle floated through the wall. There they found a small flat with a fireplace in the sitting room. This fireplace was not Floo-sized, and it had just lit itself.

Almost everything in the sitting room, and in the bedroom beyond the sitting room, was coloured green. On the wall of the sitting room was a painting of a black cobra on grass; the cobra’s hood was spread.

Myrtle floated over to the bookcase—but then huffed in dismay. “I can’t read these book titles—they’re just the letter ‘S,’ endlessly repeated.”

Harry walked over. “They look fine to me.” He noticed a book on the top shelf, §The Wizard and the Muggle Farmer’s Daughter§. Harry pulled the book out and flipped through it.

§“Please,” Rustica begged, “show me your wand!”§

Harry thought, Parseltext p*rn, who’d have thought it? He put the book back on the shelf.

He said to Myrtle, “I’ve reason to believe that there is another library here, one that is much better hidden.”

Harry did not tell Myrtle that his “reason” for believing in a second Parseltext library was that Salazar Slytherin himself had told Harry so.

He and Myrtle moved back into the huge, basilisk-stinky room. Harry hissed, “§Reveal hidden doors.§” The featureless back wall now transfigured itself into a wall and door; the same happened with the right wall. Standing in front of the right-side door, Harry deliberately made three wrong guesses before he hissed, “§Unlock this previously-hidden door.§”

And thus Harry and Myrtle found Salazar Slytherin’s ultra-secret Parseltext library—

Which had a thousand years of dust in it. Harry took two steps into the room and started coughing.

“Greyclay,” Harry choked out. Pop. Greyclay, the head Potter house-elf, decided to “share the wealth” with the other three Potter house-elves; the dust was gone from the library in seconds.

Whilst the elves worked, Harry’s curiosity was aroused by the sight of a book that was in the centre of the library’s biggest table.

The table was way too big for Harry to reach the book by hand, so he Summoned the book. The title turned out to be §Read This First§.

Harry spent a minute flipping through the book. When he put the book back on the table, he was smiling from a sense of relief. His big worry, in coming here, had been that Hermione could not help in his research because she could not read Parseltext. But now, thanks to §Read This First§, Harry now knew a way round this.

Harry had done enough for the day. He walked out of the library, Parseltongue-locked the library door and Parseltongue-hid both doors. A minute later, Harry was back in the main Chamber and saying to Gazer, “I’m done in there, and I’ve put your room back the way it was. I’ll return in two days with a friend.”

Gazer replied, “Thank you. I think I will hunt now. I will see you in two days.”

Harry watched the enormous basilisk slither away. Harry realised he felt relief that he had not been forced to kill Gazer in order to protect the children of the school; with careful planning beforehand, Harry and his heavenly advisors had bypassed this problem.

Less than five minutes later, Harry and Myrtle were back in the haunted loo. Myrtle said, “Thank you, Harry, for taking me down there. That was cathartic. But one thing I don’t understand. The basilisk seemed nice—for a basilisk. How could it have killed me?”

Harry said, “The basilisk felt it had to obey the orders of ‘the Heir of Slytherin’—who was Tom Marvolo Riddle. So Riddle killed you—the basilisk was only the means. Thirty-eight years later, Riddle had changed his name to Voldemort, he killed my parents and he tried to kill me. Somehow in that last part, he failed. Anyway, Myrtle, you and I are connected through Tom Riddle.”

****

Five minutes later, Harry was back in the Ravenclaw common room. He was there only long enough to collect his books, then Harry was off to the (English-language) library.

At the all-Houses firsties’ table at the library, Hermione had saved Harry a seat. She did not even wait for him to sit down: “Where did you go? What did you do? Why didn’t you take me along?”

Harry made a show of sitting down and setting out his textbooks, parchment, quill and ink bottle. Then he grinned at Hermione and said, “You’ll find out soon. You’ll find out soon. Because it was dangerous.”

“Great,” said grinning Draco, “we’ve got ourselves a Ravendor here.”

“Sod off,” said Millicent. “I approve of Ravendor Harry.”

****

A bit over a day later
19th September (Hermione’s twelfth birthday)
Dinnertime, the Great Hall

At the all-Houses-firsties part of the Ravenclaw table, every student who could call upon a house-elf gave Hermione a birthday present—a book of some sort (what a shock!) or chocolates. Harry observed, “Giving chocolates to a daughter of dentists—oh, the irony!”

Harry himself and the three Tonkses bought Hermione a two-volume, box-set collection of Agatha Christie mysteries.

The only steady member of the all-Houses group who did not give Hermione a birthday gift was Justin Finch-Fletchley—who had no family house-elf. Justin promised Hermione that her gift would be late but it was coming, and it needed to be owled in.

The big surprise of the night: Harry had asked the kitchen house-elves ahead of time to bake a birthday cake that was big enough for sixteen people. The cake was chocolate, with thick and gooey chocolate frosting. Written on top was “Hermione’s 12th,” spelled out in cursive-script white chocolate. The cake was both beautiful (before it was cut) and delicious (after it was cut).

Hermione, Harry noticed, had started to cry tears of joy at some point during the birthday party.

The birthday cake had been presented, with great solemnity, by two Hogwarts house-elves. Justin had never seen house-elves before; Millicent explained what they were. Harry added, “They’re symbionts, not slaves. House-elves have no magic of their own, but take magic from the wizard or witch whom they’re bound to.”

When dinner for the all-Houses firsties had ended, but before Hermione gathered up her birthday gifts and headed towards her common room, she hugged everyone in the group as a thank-you, boys and girls alike. Harry of course got the most powerful hug. When Hermione hugged Draco, he looked gobsmacked. Daphne explained Draco’s reaction: “Purebloods don’t hug.”

Later on, in the Ravenclaw common room, Hermione told Harry that this was not only the best birthday party she had ever had, it was better than any birthday party she had ever dreamt of.

Harry was glad that Hermione could enjoy a completely carefree day before tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow, Hermione would begin the most important research project of her life.

****

Meanwhile at Number 12, Grimmauld Place

Thirty-one-year-old Remus Lupin was a man with scars on his face and a story how he got those scars. Now Remus pounded the door-knocker at Sirius Black’s house. A minute later, Sirius answered the door.

A long time ago, Lily had taken the Marauders to see a famous Muggle film that had been made in 1931. A Hungarian actor with a distinctive accent had played the title role. The actor had been able to convey both charm and menace.

Now Sirius copied the Hungarian accent and said, “Remus my fine friend, enter freely and of your own vill. Ve have important matters to discuss about Harry, my godson.”

Remus had known since age eleven that Sirius could be charming. Now Remus was reminded how menacing Sirius could be.

Chapter 17: Myrtle Meets Cho

Chapter Text

Still Thursday, 19th September, evening
Still Number 12, Grimmauld Place

As Remus stepped through the front door and into Sirius’s townhouse, his nostrils flared when he smelled a woman’s perfume in the air.

“I’ve a lady friend in the kitchen,” Sirius said. “I want you to meet her, after you and I get straightened out.”

Remus followed Sirius to the kitchen. But Sirius, rather than walking into the kitchen, took one step into the kitchen, called out, “Heather, Remus is here. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” then Sirius grabbed Remus by the arm and frog-marched him into the library.

****

In the Grimmauld Place library

Sirius glared at Remus and yelled, “All right, Moony, explain something to me. In the last ten years, you never once visited Harry. Not. One. Bloody. Time. I was in Azkaban during all that time, but what’s your excuse?”

“How could I visit Harry? I had no idea where he was!”

“Moony, you were the smart one, so don’t give me that. You walk up to someone who knows where Harry is, then you ask them, ‘Where’s Harry?’ The only thing left is figuring out the Apparition coordinates, or the Floo address.”

Remus laughed bitterly. “Ask somebody ‘Where’s Harry?’ and he tells you—I wish it had been that easy! I asked Dumbledore, but he wouldn’t tell me. Likewise, the goblins refused to tell me. And Wizard Child Services didn’t know!”

“Oh, c’mon. Harry is a magical child orphan—the most famous magical child orphan in Wizarding Britain. How could they not know?”

“All I can tell you is that every time I’ve gone there in person, I’ve been told, ‘Harry Potter’s folder is still being processed.’ I last went there a year ago, when he was ten, and I still heard, ‘Blah-blah, Harry Potter’s folder is still being processed.’ I think somebody over there needs to go to Saint Mungo’s for an OPCC&I scan.”

Not waiting for Sirius to comment, Remus continued, “So then I tried the places where Harry might be: Longbottom Manor, Bones Manor, the Tonkses. Zero for three. Harry not only wasn’t at any of those places, but your cousin Andromeda was as anxious to find Harry as I was. Unlike me, when Dumbledore told her, ‘I know where Harry is, but I’m not telling you,’ she went spare about it.”

Sirius snarled. “Of course she got angry! Dumbles is playing his little secretive games, the tosser, and she, unlike you, sees the true arsehole, not the legend.”

“How can you say such a thing about Dumbledore? He’s a great man!”

“Yeah, right. A ‘great man’ who could have called for my trial at any time, but never did. A ‘great man’ who knew I was innocent, but never lifted a finger to help me. Bugger him, sod him, f*ck him.”

“I was a werewolf child, and he let me come to Hogwarts. You know how this world treats werewolves.”

“I do, and I discovered something interesting when I checked: No werewolf child has attended Hogwarts after you. So the Great Bearded One hasn’t exactly been generous, has he? Anyway, you’re telling me that you, with freedom of movement and ten years to look, never found Harry.”

“Merlin, Sirius, I talked to everyone whom James ever mentioned being related to. I even made an appointment to speak to Narcissa Malfoy, because she’s a socialite and maybe she heard something.”

“Oh? What did Cissy say?”

“She claimed she hadn’t heard a whisper. Well, no, she’d heard a rumour that Forest Elves had taken baby Harry and were raising him in Normandy.”

Sirius crossed his arms. “And after you tracked down all of James’ relatives, did it never occur to you to check out Lily’s family?”

“Don’t treat me like a bloody moron! I checked, but both Rupert Evans and Helena Evans were dead. I didn’t recall any other names of Lily’s family except for her sister Petunia.”

Sirius’s stare was intense. “So did you track down Petunia, and ask her if she had Harry?”

“Of course not. From what Lily said, Petunia was just this close to bringing back witch-burnings.”

Sirius sighed. “Your hero, Five-Names Dumbledore, skipped all of James’ relatives, skipped the Forest Elves in Normandy, and left baby Harry with Petunia. Petunia and her fat and angry husband and her fat and bullying son. No matter what you imagine Harry’s life being like, his actual life was worse.”

“sh*t.”

“Anyway, now that I’m a free man—thanks to a letter that Harry wrote; the whiskered wanker never got off his bum—and now that I have the guardianship of Harry that I should have had—despite Dumbles calling me crazy during the guardianship hearing—my goal now is to give Harry a magical education.”

“Well, that should be easy. He’ll get a good education at Hogwarts.”

Sirius shook his head. “Not with Dumbledore being secretive and playing mind-games. Not with Dumbledore basically trying to own Harry. Remus, I’ll yank Harry out of Hogwarts in a second if the bearded fool looks at Harry cross-eyed. The time might come, Remus, when you’ll need to choose where your loyalty lies: to the whiskered wanker or to Prongslet. You think about that. Now, I want you to meet Heather.”

****

Just before the two wizards entered the kitchen, Sirius stopped Remus with a hand on his chest. “In there is Heather. She looks like my favourite kind of girlfriend, but she’s more. She is not a ‘notch on the bedpost’ sort, so don’t treat her that way.”

“What happened to Amy? She get married?”

“The bitch left me to rot. I’m done with Amy.”

****

In the Grimmauld Place kitchen

When Remus and Sirius walked into the kitchen, Remus noticed two things immediately: the distinctive paper bag on the table, and the woman who had turned in her chair to face both wizards.

Remus said, “You’re Heather Tidwell, right? Three years behind us in school? Ravenclaw.”

The breasty woman with short brunette hair smiled at Remus. “Four years behind you, actually.” Then she asked Sirius with a grin, “Why does he remember me from school and you don’t, hm?”

“Erm, I’m getting old and my memory is failing?”

Heather replied, “You better not be getting old.” Then she shot Sirius an intense look.

Sirius said, “Anyway, Remus, this is our”—he counted on fingers—“fifth date, so I thought we’d dine in.”

“Our fifth date,” Heather clarified, “even though we met a week and a half ago. We have a connexion.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah, like Harry and Hermione, who is Harry’s firstie friend. Those two do everything together, and they’re only eleven.”

Remus gestured to the McDonald’s paper bag on the table. “So on your fifth date, Padfoot, you decided to impress Heather with foreign food?”

Heather snapped, “He bought me Mundane food. You know what a big deal this is to a Mundane-born.”

Sirius grumped, “I kept asking them what was in the Secret Sauce. They never told me!”

Heather grinned. “To shut him up, I had to whisper in his ear, ‘It’s family magic.’ ”

Now Sirius grinned. “What’s so great about Heather is that she’s funny. Heather, tell Remus the story about the Pureblood who walks into a Muggle pub.”

****

A half-hour later, in the Ravenclaw common room

Harry and Hermione were doing homework; Harry noticed that Hermione was smiling the entire time. Hermione had received many gifts from Ravenclaws at lunchtime, and many gifts from the all-Houses firsties at dinnertime—but more importantly to Hermione, she had been honoured today. Whereas Hermione’s twelfth birthday in Harry’s previous lifetime had gone completely unnoticed by Gryffindors.

Harry heard sudden screaming behind him—

“MOANING MYRTLE!”

“What’s she doing here?”

Harry stood up and turned about. He saw ghost-Myrtle floating in the room. Harry said loudly, “Myrtle is in the Ravenclaw common room because I invited her here. She’s—correction, she was—a Ravenclaw just like us.”

By now, Myrtle had floated over by Harry and Hermione. Harry, still standing, performed introductions. “Myrtle, this is my best friend, Hermione Granger, a first-year student. Hermione turns twelve today. Her mind is amazing. Hermione, this is Myrtle Warren. Myrtle was born in 1929 and died at the end of her third year, age fourteen, when she looked into the yellow eyes of a basilisk. She’s famous for haunting the girls’ restroom on the second floor.”

Hermione was wide-eyed. “Pleased to meet you, Myrtle.”

An older boy’s voice asked, “A basilisk killed Myrtle? That isn’t what I’ve heard. I’ve always heard it was an Acromantula that killed her.”

Harry shrugged. “I asked Myrtle how she died. She died after seeing big yellow eyes. She and I figured out it had to be a basilisk.”

A fourth-year girl asked, “How is Moa—Myrtle here? I thought she had to stay in her lavatory.”

Myrtle replied, “Actually, I’m allowed to go anywhere in Hogwarts. I usually don’t, because I don’t like being near people. But”—Myrtle looked down at Harry and smiled—“in Harry Potter I’ve made a friend.”

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump. Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe burst out of the stairs to the girls’ dormitories.

“You! Moaning Myrtle!” Cho yelled. “Leave this common room now and get back to your disgusting loo where you belong!”

****

“No,” said Harry. “She stays. I invited her here, she used to be a Ravenclaw, and this is the Ravenclaw com—”

Marietta said, “Who gave you the right to invite that ugly ghost here? You’re only a bloody first-year!”

Harry touched the blue lining of his left robe-sleeve. “This gives me the right. As for you, girl, you are only a second-year. Meaning, no prefect badge on your chest. So who the bloody hell do you think you are, telling anyone they have to leave?”

Cho was wearing an I gotcha smile. “So, Harry, where did you and Moaning Myrtle meet, hm? Since after all, there’s only one place she ever is, and it’s detention if a boy goes into a girls’ lavatory.”

“I confess. You caught me,” Harry said with exaggerated guilt and a theatrical woebegone air. “I’ve spent the last eighteen days, every spare moment, in Myrtle’s lavatory—brewing Polyjuice Potion and Felix felicis Potion.”

“You can brew those in a lavatory?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked Marietta and Cho in the eyes. “Suppose I claim I didn’t meet Myrtle in her loo, I met her somewhere else?” Both girls were taking a breath to speak when Harry said, “You want to call me a liar? Prove me wrong.”

“Pfft,” Cho said. “Myrtle never leaves her loo; everyone knows this. If you know the spook, then you were in her loo, Q.E.D, against the rules.”

“Wow, Chang,” said Su Li, “you actually claim that ‘Everyone knows this’ proves anything? Tell me, does the eagle have to dumb-down the riddle when you step up to the door-knocker?”

The older Oriental girl glared at the younger one.

“Your presumption is erroneous,” Myrtle said archly to Cho. “I’m allowed to go anywhere on the castle and grounds—but almost all of the time, I choose to stay in my loo.”

Marietta glared at Harry and demanded, “If you met Moaning Myrtle somewhere other than her loo, as you claim”—Edgecombe rolled her eyes—“where did you meet her? Every girl here is entitled to know whether Harry Potter is a dirty pervert.”

Myrtle said menacingly, “Do you two recognise the name of ‘Olive Hornby’? I know your type—you’re both bullies. I hate bullies. I died because of a bully—”

“Of course you were bullied,” said Cho. “Look at you! Fat, pimples, you wear glasses, and your hair is as unshiny as hair can get. So, Moaning Myrtle, what do you say to that? Are you going to cry?”

“No,” Myrtle said viciously, “I’m going to hug you.”

Myrtle glided forward and hugged both Cho and Marietta—but most of Myrtle’s body was inside the bodies of the two second-year girls. They gasped as their bodies turned cold.

“I’ve homework to do,” Cho said to Marietta. “I’m done here.”

Cho and Marietta backed away from Myrtle and dashed up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories. Myrtle floated to the foot of the stairs and yelled up, “Remember, bullies, ghosts can pass through walls, and we can’t be assigned detentions!”

****

The next day (Friday, 20th September)
After afternoon classes

Harry sneaked into an empty classroom with his book bag. He hissed, “§I call upon the Spirit of Hogwarts.§”

The Spirit appeared. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

“For right now, I was confirming that you understand commands spoken in Parseltongue.”

“§I understand Parseltongue and I can speak it too,§” the Spirit of Hogwarts replied.

“Good to know. Now, the other question I had: Right now, Castle magic knows exactly where I am, right?”

“This is correct.”

Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his book bag, unfolded it, and draped it over his head. “What about now? Do you still know where I am?”

“No,” the Spirit replied to the seemingly bodyless voice in front of her. “According to the location-magic of the Castle, you are not within Hogwarts.”

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off his head. “Fantastic. Thank you.” The Spirit of Hogwarts curtseyed and vanished, as Harry began to refold the Cloak.

****

Minutes later

Hermione had thought that the Invisibility Cloak was amazing. Hermione had thought that the Invisibility Cloak would be fun to use. Hermione had been puzzled why Harry would want to use the Cloak now.

At the moment, Harry and Hermione both were under the Invisibility Cloak as they walked through the castle, some distance away from Ravenclaw Tower. Harry and Hermione now were on the second floor. If Hermione realised the importance of this fact, she did not comment.

A few minutes later, Hermione whispered, “we’re coming close to Myrtle’s restroom.”

Harry whispered agreement: “Yes, we are.”

A minute later, they were invisibly standing outside of two doors, one of which had an “Out of Order” sign hanging on it.

“Harry—”

He opened the door. His gentle push on Hermione’s back guided her through the door. Once both of them were inside the lavatory and the door was shut, Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off his and Hermione’s heads.

Hermione looked shocked. “Harry, you lied! Cho asked you if you’d been in here and you said you hadn’t!”

“I didn’t lie, I misled,” Harry replied, whilst refolding the Cloak. “I implied I’d never been in here. My actual words were ‘Suppose I claim I didn’t meet Myrtle in her loo, I met her somewhere else?’ ”

“You misled the whole Ravenclaw common room. Don’t split hairs to ‘prove’ that you didn’t.”

Harry shrugged. “I learnt from the best. Our esteemed headmaster could have you believing that the sun is shining outside, without ever saying the words ‘The sun is shining outside,’ all whilst he’s looking out his window at the rain.”

“Harry, you’ve talked to the headmaster twice. You can’t claim to know him so well.”

“Yes I can, but it’s another Delphi thing. Oh, before I forget: If you ever use this room for its intended purpose, bring your own loo roll. And flush the toilet in your stall at the start, before you commit yourself—I’m sure that Filch and the house-elves haven’t been in here in decades.”

“Duly noted. Harry, why are we here?”

“Follow me.” As the two of them walked towards the sinks, Harry said, “When you get to reading Mum’s sixth-year diary, you’ll find that Mum came across interesting info about ‘Slytherin’s Chamber.’ Using what she’d read, Mum came in here and looked about till she found this sink.”

Harry pointed to the sink with the snake-design on it.

Harry continued, “Mum was a Parselmouth. She was so excited about this; she thought that in the history of the school, she and Salazar Slytherin were the only Parselmouths. No, it turns out that Mum missed one: a Slytherin student in the 1940s named Tom Marvolo Riddle. Anyway, when Mum found this sink, she got excited, and she—call it an experiment.”

Harry hissed, “§Open.§”

Judging by Hermione’s gobsmacked expression, the sudden appearance of the downward tunnel was a bigger shock than McGonagall’s visit to the Grangers of a year ago.

****

A minute later

Harry and Hermione both had walked on the rat skeletons, and Harry had opened the big round door that had been locked by metal snakes. Now Harry and Hermione stood in Slytherin’s Chamber (a.k.a the Chamber of Secrets). Hermione was staring at the cobra-statues.

Harry said, “This is as far as Mum went. She stood about where we’re standing, thought ‘This is incredible,’ then turned round and walked out.”

But Harry did not turn round and walk out. Instead, he strode with determination towards the giant stone head. After a second’s delay, Hermione followed.

Harry did not tell Hermione that the story he had just told her, about Lily visiting the Chamber during her sixth year, was entirely true—but that the story was misleading. Harry had not learnt about the Chamber by reading his mum’s sixth-year diary; no, it was a different diary, Tom Riddle’s diary, that had brought Harry here originally.

****

Another minute later

Hermione stared in shock at the sixty-foot basilisk. “It won’t try to bite us, will it?”

Harry replied, “Actually, biting you isn’t the worst thing the basilisk can do to you, though the bite is deadly. See the basilisk’s seemingly orange eyes? The basilisk has two sets of eyelids, and the transparent-red eyelids let living creatures look at the basilisk’s eyes without harm. Otherwise...”

Hermione said, her voice fearful, “If you look into the basilisk’s eyes, you die. This is what killed Myrtle.”

“Yes, killed instantly. And if you try to use an intermediary—a reflecting pool of water, a mirror, a telescope or a camera viewfinder—to look at the no-eyelids basilisk, you are ‘merely’ petrified. If this happens, you can be cured by someone pouring Mandrake Restorative Draught down your throat, but this potion is bugger-all to make. And until it’s made and you drink it, you’re caught in a Petrificus Totalis that doesn’t wear off.”

Then Harry looked into Hermione’s eyes. “Anyway, where I was yesterday, that I couldn’t tell you about when you asked? I was right here, Parseltongue-talking with the basilisk. I knew I could have died yesterday, and I had no intention of bringing you here where you might die too.”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione cried, as she Hermy-hugged him.

After Hermione broke the hug, Harry said, “Let me tell you why I called the basilisk out from behind Salazar’s head. Spells spoken in Parseltongue are more powerful than spells spoken in a human language; well, Founder Slytherin collected his own Parseltext library, and yesterday I was the first living person to see it in a thousand years. Today, you’ll see it too.”

Hermione squealed.

****

Another minute later
In Slytherin’s Parseltext library

Hermione huffed. “I’m useless here! There isn’t one book here that I can even read the spine of.”

Harry grinned at her. “Useless? Not so.” He tapped the §Read This First§ book. “I learnt an interesting spell from this.”

Harry fetched a random green-covered book from a shelf, brought it to the table, and pulled out his wand. Whilst making a reverse-D wand motion, Harry hissed, “§Conjure translations§.” A second book appeared, identical in its dimensions to the green book, but the second book’s cover was blue. Harry slid the blue-covered book over to Hermione.

She turned the front cover towards her. “An Introduction to Blood Rituals.” She opened the book and flipped pages. “This book, I can read every page. Yay, we’re in business!”

Harry put §An Introduction to Blood Rituals§ back on the shelf, walked back to the table and flipped §Read This First§ to a different page. He said to Hermione, “Let me show you another neat trick I learnt from this book. I’m going to summon every book that mentions the Permanent Sticking Charm, ‘Proprius Commoror.’ §I summon every book containing the text§ ‘Proprius Commoror’ §or ‘Permanent Sticking Charm.’§”

Twenty-three green-covered books floated off the shelves and onto the table.

Harry tried a variation on the spell: “§I summon every book containing the text ‘glue.’§” This brought seven more books to the table.

“Oh, wow,” said Hermione, her eyes bright. “Imagine if the internet had something like this, so that I could find every web page in the world that contained certain text. I could find a thousand uses for such a spell. No, I could find a million uses for a text-search spell like this. Correction—I could find ten-to-the-hundredth-power uses for such a spell.”

****

A minute later

Five blue-covered books were by Hermione’s elbow; thirty green-covered books were by Harry’s elbow.

Harry said to Hermione, “Let me make clear what we’re looking for. Professor Snape has a Dark Mark wafer on his arm. We’re looking for a spell that will unstick the wafer from his arm without the Dark Mark going spare and killing him.”

“Got it. Let’s begin,” Hermione said. She pulled a blue book off her stack and opened its front cover.

“Hermione,” Harry said. His gaze was intense. “You might think that we’re merely doing this as a favour for a professor we like. But it’s much more. This is the most important research project you’ll ever do. But why it’s so important is Delphi knowledge till you’re sixteen.”

“Delphi knowledge,” Hermione replied with a nod. “Got it. If this research is so important, do you think we can do it? After all, you and I haven’t been in this school even a month.”

“Yes, I think we can do this. You’re a firstie, but you’ve already bought and read all seven years of textbooks, right?”

Hermione nodded.

Harry continued, “I’ve read all seven of Mum’s Hogwarts diaries, which talk about the spells and potions in all those textbooks you own. So I also know more than most first-month firsties.” Not to mention that in my previous lifetime, I learnt a lot of magic during six years of Hogwarts schooling, plus I learnt spells so I could survive the Triwizard, plus I learnt magic so I could survive Death Eaters and Snatchers. I doubt that there is much in Slytherin’s green books that I simply can’t understand. Harry added, “Besides, only a Parselmouth can cast the spell, once we find the right spell, and I’m the only Parselmouth in the whole bloody school. Which means only I can make proper use of Slytherin’s library.”

****

Soon Harry was looking through a green-covered book, whilst Hermione was looking through a blue-covered book.

Hermione abruptly spoke: “Professor Snape said that taking the Dark Mark at seventeen was his second-biggest regret. What could he regret more than that?”

Harry said, “Calling my mother a mudblood.” Hermione hissed. Harry continued, “In one second, he killed Lily’s friendship with him, which was the one good thing in his life. This happened at the end of fifth year, after everyone involved had just sat their OWLs.”

Harry went on to tell the story—

“...My father James, when he died at twenty-one, was a good man. Sirius at thirty-one is a good man. But the Marauders, back when they were sixteen-year-olds, were wankers. And Severus was immature too, or he never would’ve called my mother that word. But other Slytherins had been bothering Lily for five years. She’d visited Madam Pomfrey many times by fifth year, and been hospitalised a few times, but Headmaster Dumbledore never punished the offenders. Anyway, when Severus Snape of Slytherin called Mum the blood-purity bigots’ favourite word, she decided, ‘This is the end. You’ve made your choice, Sev.’ The next day, he showed up outside the door to Gryffindor Tower, sobbing and begging Mum to resume their friendship. It got him nothing; Mum was cold to Severus Snape. A year and three months later, when she and James became Head Girl/Head Boy, those two started dating.”

****

At 3 p.m., still in Slytherin’s Library

Harry had been casting the Tempus spell occasionally since he and Hermione had begun their research in this library.

Now Harry said to Hermione, “Okay, write down the names of the blue books you’ve completely looked through and the book and page number that you’re on now, then pack everything up. We’re leaving.”

“I’m still on my first book,” Hermione said. “I keep getting distracted.”

Thirty seconds later, Hermione had done the ordered writings, and was loading parchment and quill back into her book bag. She asked, “Why are we leaving?”

“Because whilst finding a way to unstick Snape’s Dark Mark is important, it’s not urgent—the answer doesn’t need to be found today, this week or even this month.” Harry did not mention his secret deadline, which was 31st October. “And if we disappear for more than two hours a day, people will talk, and eventually the Great-in-His-Own-Mind Whiskered One will find out. Meanwhile, the blue-covered books are conjured, and they’ll all be gone tomorrow.”

Minutes later, Harry and Hermione were walking out of Slytherin’s Chamber (the Chamber of Secrets), and Harry was waving goodbye to Gazer.

Hermione said, “I didn’t find the sticking-charm counter that we’re looking for, but I found so many other interesting things! Little asides about this part of magic, or that part. I filled three pages this afternoon with good notes that I won’t be otherwise taught for years yet, and maybe not even then!”

Harry laughed in delight. “Hermione, why do you think I brought you in on this, instead of doing all the research myself? I knew that, even with you stuck having to read the unleaded versions of Salazar’s books, that this would be a dream come true for you.”

Hermione dropped her book bag, threw her arms round Harry and gave him a strong hug. “Thank you, Harry! These last two hours have been a bigger gift than yesterday!”

****

Minutes later, in the Hogwarts Library

Harry and Hermione sat down in the two empty seats at the all-Houses firsties’ table.

“Where were you two?” Draco asked. “We haven’t seen you since lunchtime.”

Harry said smoothly, “Hermione and I are involved with a special project for Professor Snape, which I’m afraid we can’t talk about.” Hermione nodded. Harry continued, “Expect us to be gone for a few hours each afternoon, for weeks yet.”

Justin said, “I’m confused. Snape isn’t one of our professors.”

“Thank Merlin!” Neville said.

Harry waited for Hermione to say Honestly, Justin, it’s “Professor Snape.” But Cousin Andromeda, thankfully, had spoken to Hermione about correcting fellow students about honorifics—and apparently Hermione had listened.

Hermione said, “Professor Snape isn’t our teacher, this is true, but he is Harry’s and my friend. Or mentor. Or something else good.”

****

At dinnertime, in the Great Hall
At the all-Houses firsties part of the Ravenclaw table

Neville announced to the group, “Look over at the High Table. Snape is missing, just like a fortnight ago.”

Millicent replied, “It is Friday night, you lot. Maybe Snape is out on a hot date.”

Nah, never, that’s impossible was the general consensus.

Harry looked over at Susan Bones—who nodded her head a half-inch.

Chapter 18: Albus Is Squeezed

Chapter Text

The next morning (Saturday, 21st September)
The headmaster’s office, Hogwarts SOW&W

A fortnight ago, Albus had realised he faced arrest if he tried to do business in person at Gringotts. All of his vaults, even vaults he controlled as headmaster, had been put out of his reach. In the last fortnight, Albus had sent house-elves Wrinkly and Beekeeper as trusted proxies to do Albus’s banking for him.

Today, Albus was informed in a letter that Gringotts would not allow withdrawals when one of his keys was presented in the Gringotts lobby by any proxy from the following list—

• Albus’s House of Dumbledore house-elf, Beekeeper;

• Aberforth Dumbledore;

• all Hogwarts house-elves; and

• all employees of Hogwarts—this included all professors (listed by name), Rubeus Hagrid and Argus Filch.

The Gringotts letter ended with these cheery words: “The Gringotts lobby has magic in place that detects use of a glamour or Polyjuice Potion.” Albus wanted to snarl obscenities.

The castle was a few days away from running out of food. Food cost money. So now Albus was trying to talk Augusta Longbottom into accepting the Hogwarts Supplies key and using it to withdraw G536 from the Hogwarts Supplies vault.

But Regent Longbottom’s reply was maddening: “I’m not going to do this, headmaster. According to rumour, if you sent me your key, it would come with almost-undetectable Compulsion Charms on it, and I’d wind up withdrawing G536 from the Longbottom vault, not from yours.”

“I assure you, Gus, I would do no such thing.”

“Headmaster, it’s clear to me that the goblins have put out a Gringotts-only order for your arrest. If you’d just admitted this, and said, ‘I made a mistake, but the school still needs to operate,’ I’d feel a little willingness to help you out. But I’ve heard rumours for two years now that you are free and easy with Obliviate and Compulsion charms—”

“Gus—”

“Merlin, Albus, I’m old enough to remember when Minerva started teaching Transfiguration. That woman was a spitfire fifty years ago! Now she’s your lapdog. I’m on the Board of Governors, let me remind you; it would not be ‘for the Greater Good’ for either Neville or me if I became your lapdog too.”

“Gus, I assure you—”

“Here’s my alternate plan: I advance you G500 from the Longbottom vault, after you make an oath on your magic that you shall pay me back within 180 days; or I advance you G200, fully expecting that whatever unoathed promises of repayment you make, you will weasel out of.”

“I need G536, not G500.”

“Well, I see a problem, headmaster. I can believe that you need G500. But the extra thirty-six galleons? I’m not paying for your bags of sherbet lemons. But since you’ve made no objection, I assume that you’re fine with agreeing to give me an oath on your magic that you’ll pay House Longbottom back within 180 days?”

“Gus, I am keenly disappointed in you. My word as Leader of the Light is good enough.”

“Neville tells me that Harry is missing 107 thousand galleons out of his family vault. Has that money ever turned up? Translation: Without your oath on your magic, I’ll give you only two hundred galleons.”

“Gus, if I take the oath like you demand, people will think that I would not repay you unless I took that oath. Be reasonable.”

“Well, isn’t this the truth, you not repaying me unless you’re forced to? By the way, you’ve talked yourself out of me giving you G500, and as for the G200 that you will get, in my own mind I’m treating it the same as if I dumped it down a well.”

Albus was insulted by Regent Longbottom’s thinly hidden insults, and he was annoyed that he could not persuade her to give him more galleons.

****

Ten minutes later

Regent Longbottom fire-called Albus. The Longbottom head elf, Greenstalk, had the two hundred galleons that Regent Longbottom had promised; but when Greenstalk had tried to elf-pop over to Hogwarts with the moneybag, Greenstalk had bounced off a ward. Albus was surprised to hear this; Lucius Malfoy regularly sent his house-elf to Hogwarts to deliver messages to Albus, and the castle wards never had interfered with such traffic.

Albus summoned the Spirit of Hogwarts to give an explanation. The explanation given was that the Spirit had reevaluated the founders’ orders and had made a stricter interpretation. As a result, since Regent Longbottom did not live in the castle, movements by her house-elves now were restricted. Lord Malfoy soon would find out that the same rules would hold for himself and Dobby as held for Augusta Longbottom and Greenstalk.

Dumbledore blustered: “I am the headmaster, and the new interpretation is inconvenient for me. Change the house-elf wards back to what they were.”

The Spirit of Hogwarts refused Dumbledore’s demand—“I obey the founders first, and you second.”

The upshot was that Regent Longbottom could not send Greenstalk to Hogwarts Castle, but Dumbledore could call for Greenstalk—with Regent Longbottom’s prior permission. This was how, after jumping through hoops, Dumbledore finally got his hands on Regent Longbottom’s two hundred galleons.

****

For Albus to get the other G336 he needed, he had to go through the same rigmarole with Cyrus Greengrass. At least Cyrus did not demand that Albus make an oath on his magic to repay the money—

—but Cyrus did bring his wife Opal to Greengrass Manor’s Floo Fireplace, so that Opal could hear every word of Albus’s unoathed promise to repay the G336.

The actual putting of coins into Albus’s hands, unfortunately, happened much like it did with Regent Longbottom: When Cyrus tried to send the Greengrass head house-elf, Bluegrass, to Hogwarts, Bluegrass bounced off a ward instead of elf-popping into Albus’s office. What finally wound up being done was that Bluegrass elf-popped the moneybag just outside the Greengrass Manor ward-boundary, then a Hogwarts elf popped over there and brought the moneybag to the headmaster’s office.

For Albus, these workarounds, just to get moneybags into Hogwarts so he could spend their coins, were a bloody nuisance. And besides, the founders had been dead for a thousand years, whilst Albus was trying to achieve the Greater Good—it was obvious to Albus that the Spirit of Hogwarts should give him, as headmaster, anything he asked for, instead of following the founders’ ancient rules.

****

Ten days later
Tuesday, 1st October, lunchtime
In the Great Hall, at the first-years end of the Ravenclaw table

Whilst Harry and Hermione ate dinner with first-year students from all four Houses, breakfast and lunch were eaten with their Ravenclaw housemates. At the moment, Harry and Hermione were discussing Intent with some second-year Ravenclaws (except Cho and Marietta; Harry and Hermione ignored those two bullies).

Professor McGonagall left the High Table and walked up to Harry. “Mr Potter, the headmaster wishes to speak to you and to Lord Black after lunch. Professor Flitwick and myself already have informed the headmaster that we will be joining the discussion.”

Harry was confused. “I haven’t done anything! Why does Dumbledore—? Wait, don’t you professors get paid on the last day of the month?” Which was yesterday.

“Yes, we do,” McGonagall replied, giving Harry a puzzled look. Why are you asking this?

Harry asked, “Did you actually get paid yesterday? Are the contracted galleons actually in your vault today?”

“I presume so.”

Harry said, “Don’t presume, contact Gringotts and check. Before you and I walk into the headmaster’s office, I want you to know, one way or the other, whether you’ve been paid yesterday.”

“I think it will be a waste of my time, Mr Potter. But let’s you and me go to my office, where I will fire-call Gringotts.”

****

Ten minutes later
The headmaster’s office

Harry and Professor McGonagall walked into the office, to see Dumbledore, Sirius and Professor Flitwick waiting for them. Of the two new arrivals, Harry was calm, whilst McGonagall was furious.

McGonagall rushed over to Flitwick, put up a Silencing Charm, and said something to the half-goblin professor. When McGonagall dropped the charm, Flitwick was scowling at Dumbledore.

“Harry my boy,” Dumbledore said, “I’m glad you could come. Sherbet lemon?”

“No thank you,” Harry replied. “Hermione says candies like those will rot your teeth.”

“I’m telling you, you should try them. This batch is especially tasty.”

“The answer still is no.”

“I’m disappointed to hear you say such, Harry.”

Harry leant forward in his chair. “Listen closely, headmaster: I’m going to disappoint you often during the next seven years. But since you have already keenly disappointed me, it evens out.”

“Harry my boy—”

“Oi, ‘Leader of the Light,’ ” said Sirius, “quit trying to push Harry into eating your potioned candy, and explain to him and me why you called us here.”

Flitwick said, “He’s missed a payroll because Gringotts has frozen all his vaults. He wants you to loan him money before the other professors find out and his reputation takes a hit.”

Then Flitwick corrected himself: “Before they find out and his reputation takes a hit more than it already has.”

McGonagall said, “Also, the kitchens need to buy food soon. This means additional money that the headmaster needs on hand.”

Harry said, “So ask Lucius Malfoy. He’s on the Board of Governors, he has buckets of money and he has a son in this school. Borrow from him.”

Dumbledore said, “Lucius would demand concessions that I feel no wish to make.”

Sirius said, “Augusta Longbottom, then.”

“We have already spoken,” Dumbledore said. “For her to loan me the money, she would insist that I make oath on my magic to repay the loan within 180 days.”

“Hm, whom does that leave? The Weasleys would be more than willing to lend you the money, except they have no money to lend.”

“Whom it leaves is you, Sirius, and you, Harry, both followers of the Light.”

Harry looked at Sirius. “If it’s Five-names Dumbledore asking, I say no. He’s already done me enough harm, now he wants me to agree to let him do me more harm. I don’t for one minute believe that whatever money I ‘loan’ him, I’ll ever get back.”

“Actually, Harry,” said Sirius, who was smiling evilly, “since I’m your guardian now instead of the whiskered wanker, you can’t loan Dumbledore one brown knut without my say-so.”

Sirius turned to face Dumbledore. “I’ll loan you as much as you need, whenever you need. But each time, before I fetch the money, you’ll write me out an IOU. You’ll also take an oath: ‘I swear on my magic that I’ll repay this loan in full within three months.’ ”

Dumbledore sputtered, “I can’t do that! What if unforeseen problems come up? Sirius my boy, be reasonable!”

Harry said, “Sirius, how long were you in Azkaban for crimes you didn’t commit? Remind me.”

Sirius replied, “Nine years and nine months, roughly.”

Harry then asked, “And who was it who had the legal authority to order that you be given a trial, but didn’t use that authority? Remind me.”

Sirius replied, “The Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry said, “So now this same Albus Dumbledore says your loan terms are too harsh.”

Sirius glared at Dumbledore. “You’ve heard my price. Take it or leave it, old man.”

“The Greater Good—”

“Shut up. You deal with me or you deal with Lucy—those are your choices. I want to see you become a Squib, Dumbledore. But maybe Lucy will show you more kindness.”

“Gus would give me six month to repay instead of three months,” Dumbledore said, sulking.

Sirius grinned evilly. “But would Regent Longbottom loan you the entire—can someone give me a good approximation?”

McGonagall said, “Today the headmaster needs about seventeen hundred galleons.”

“No,” Dumbledore said, “Gus would not loan me G1 724. Either she does not have this kind of money, or she would consider it to be G1 724 dumped down a well.”

Sirius stared at the whiskered old man. “So, ‘Leader of the Light,’ what will it be? The painful oath that I demand, with no wiggle room, plus a written IOU, or you deal with Lucius Malfoy and make,” Sirius paused, “concessions?”

In the end, Dumbledore wrote out the IOU and made the oath, whilst hitting both Sirius and Harry with his tried-and-true “I’m so disappointed in you” routine. Both Sirius and Harry were unmoved.

Sirius Side-Along Apparated Harry to the steps of Gringotts; soon afterwards, Sirius had gone into the Black family vault and had put G1 724 into a moneybag. Harry called Greyclay, the head Potter house-elf, who took Sirius’s moneybag and put it on Dumbledore’s desk.

****

Four days later
Saturday, 5th October 1991, evening
The Great Hall

The all-Houses firsties had just walked into the Great Hall from the library, and were headed towards their end of the Ravenclaw table. Some of the firsties casually glanced towards the High Table.

“Merlin!” Draco and Padma both exclaimed.

Harry looked where they were looking. Sitting at the High Table was Snape—but for the first time since Harry had known the man (in either lifetime), Snape was not wearing all-black. Instead, his robes were dark blue (though with black shoulder-covers). The shocker was who was seated next to Snape at the High Table: Amelia Bones, who was wearing bright-purple robes with green shoulder-covers.

Snape and Amelia spoke together briefly, then both stood up, walked round the High Table, and plotted a course for Susan Bones and her friends.

As the two adults approached, Tracey said, “Why is he dating her? She’s old.”

Susan replied archly, “Auntie is not ‘old.’ She’s only a year older than Professor Snape. Her hair turned prematurely grey in her twenties.”

By now, Snape and Amelia were standing at the all-Houses firsties end of the Ravenclaw table. Hermione, smiling, said to Snape, “You look happy, professor. Dating Madam Bones suits you.”

Snape gave Hermione a small smile(!) “It does indeed suit me. We are well matched.”

Harry was close to Amelia now, and he noted that she was not wearing her monocle; however, the monocle was hanging from a hook that had been sticking-charmed to the front of her robes. Also, whilst no female Auror wore a hair-net on the job, Amelia was wearing a hair-net now; the hair-net was the same bright purple as her robes.

Meanwhile, Susan was introducing the all-Houses firsties to Amelia. Harry was Muggle-raised enough to think that an eleven-year-old boy kissing the knuckles of a woman in her thirties looked absurd; but Justin, Neville and Draco all acted unbothered by the custom.

When Harry himself was introduced to Amelia Bones, he stuck his hand out, palm turned sideways, expecting to shake her hand—

—until an “Ahem!” from Hermione pushed Harry out of his mental rut. Harry switched over—hopefully without his almost-gaffe being too noticeable—to kissing the back of Amelia’s hand.

When introductions were complete, Parvati asked the couple, “So what have you two done whilst you were here in the castle?”

“Broom cupboard,” Su Li murmured.

Amelia replied, “Severus showed me the parts of the Potions lab that students never get to see.” Amelia’s cheeks were pink, Harry noticed.

Snape said, “We also took a romantic stroll on the third floor.”

Harry asked mischievously, “Including the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side?”

Amelia said, “We walked past that door, but we didn’t try to go in.”

Snape added, “That door was locked.” His expression was unreadable.

“Alohom*ora works,” Su Li murmured.

“However,” Amelia said, “We heard what sounded like three barking dogs on the other side of the door.”

“It’s one Cerberus, people,” Su Li murmured.

All this time, whatever students had come into the Great Hall had been talking—in fact, seeing Snape and Amelia Bones together in the Great Hall, all the other students had been talking more loudly than usual. But suddenly the volume dropped to silence, even though almost all the students and professors had arrived and had taken their places.

Harry looked about. He saw that Dumbledore had not yet sat down at the High Table; indeed, Dumbledore had not even reached the High Table. Now Dumbledore stood near the High Table, whilst staring at both Snape and Amelia.

Harry said to the couple, “You two had better go back to the High Table and sit down, before Dumbles sends your plates away.”

“Professor Dumbles,” Hermione corrected.

After Snape and Amelia were reseated at the High Table, Dumbledore walked over and spoke to them. Whatever Dumbledore was trying to sell, the other two clearly weren’t buying it. Someone amongst the three put up a Silencing Charm; the argument continued for five minutes more, before scowling Dumbledore strode back to his golden throne and sat down.

Watching the drama were the all-Houses firsties. Neville asked, “What do you suppose they were saying up there?”

Harry said, “My guess? Dumbles doesn’t want Amelia Bones ever invited back to the castle again. And since she’s already in the castle tonight, then after dessert, Dumbles wants her Obliviated.”

Hermione said, “A month ago, I’d think you were joking.”

Harry replied, “I’m not joking at all.”

****

Nine days later
Monday, 14th October
In the Slytherin Library

Ever since that first day of Harry and Hermione researching together in the Slytherin’s Chamber library, the two children had continued to spend two hours each day in that same library. Each was there mainly to find a Parseltext unsticking charm; but they each were learning so much about magic in general.

But Harry had not forgotten his original objective—and now his heart was pounding. He used §Conjure translations§ to make a blue-covered copy of the book he was currently reading, then slid the blue copy over to Hermione.

“Hermione, turn to page 96. Look what I’ve found.”

Fifteen seconds later, Hermione said, “Adhesio—glues two surfaces together. Finite Adhesionem—unglues the two surfaces. Let’s see if the un-Parsel version works.”

Hermione closed the blue book (after writing down the spells), then pulled the blue book towards her so that the lower third of the book hung over the edge of the table. She pointed her wand at the book and cast “Adhesio”—the book now could not be lifted off the table, even when Hermione was grunting with effort.

Harry suggested, “Before you cast the counterspell that you know will work, try Finite Incantatem.”

Seconds later, Hermione reported, “Finite Incantatem—grr, still stuck to the table. Finite Adhesionem—now I can lift the book.”

With it proven that a new sticking-charm had been discovered, now Hermione was looking at Harry with a grin and with her eyes aglow. “We’ve found the counter to the sticking charm! Now we can get rid of Professor Snape’s Dark Mark.”

Harry sighed. “Not so fast, Hermione. We’ve found a Parsel sticking charm, and its counterspell.” Harry gestured to the two dozen green-covered books on the table. “There might be two Parsel sticking charms in here, and maybe Voldemort used the other one. There might be three such spells, there might be twenty. All I know is, If I cast the wrong counterspell on Professor Snape’s Dark Mark, he’ll die.”

Hermione’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry for getting so excited. I thought we’d found the answer.”

“We might have found the answer, but we’ll keep searching. Would you mind terribly, continuing to do research in Slytherin’s library?”

With a huge grin, Hermione replied, “If I must, I must. At least now I know a spell that nobody in this school knows except you—I console myself with this bit of knowledge.”

****

A week later
Monday, 21st October
Again in the Slytherin Library

“Holy sh*t,” Harry murmured.

Hermione looked up from her own reading. “Hm?”

“Hermione, you’ve known me almost three months. Do you think I’m evil?”

“What? No! How can you ask that?”

“If I saw a way to nobble”—swindle—“Dumbledore out of money, but the trick would work only if Dumbledore was greedy, would you think I was evil if I cheated ‘the Leader of the Light’?”

“Show me,” Hermione commanded.

Harry again used §Conjure translations§ to make a blue-covered copy of his current book, then slid the blue copy over to Hermione.

“Page 171. Deceived Disguise Potion.”

Thirty seconds later, Hermione summarised what she’d read—

“The potion requires two live hairs from someone, just like Polyjuice Potion. After you drink the potion, you feel your body change; and when you look in the mirror, you see yourself looking like the person whose two live hairs you’ve used. But in truth, your appearance hasn’t changed at all.”

Then Hermione asked, “What are you thinking, concerning Dumbledore?”

“Hang on, this needs a long-winded explanation. Normally, Gringotts allows proxies to use a keyholder’s key. So for instance, if you told me, ‘I’m going to Diagon Alley,’ I might hand you my key and say, “Please bring me a hundred galleons from my trust vault.’ Normally, Gringotts wouldn’t object if Hermione Granger presented my key as my proxy, they’d take you down to my vault the same as taking me.”

“What stops me from grabbing your hundred galleons, then filling a pillowcase with galleons for myself?”

“Nothing. But since I know this, I’ll hand over my key only to people I deeply trust. If Bilious would offer to pick up some money out of my vault, I’d say, ‘No thanks, I’m good.’ ”

“Go on,” Hermione said.

“Now, Gringotts always knows who presents the key. They’d know that it was Hermione Granger going down to my vault. But what Gringotts has the option of doing at any time is to write me a letter saying, ‘Hermione Granger no longer may be your proxy. If she shows up with your key, we no longer will honour your key whilst she holds it.’ ”

“Why would Gringotts do that?”

“They’d do it if they thought that Hermione Granger would steal from my vault soon. Or if they wanted me to come to Gringotts in person. That’s what I think has happened here. Hogwarts has two vaults, which Dumbledore controls, and suddenly none of the Hogwarts house-elves can be trusted with those two keys? Suddenly Minerva McGonagall can’t be trusted with those two keys? Aberforth Dumbledore can’t be trusted with the key to the Dumbledore family vault?”

“Okay, if Gringotts is trying to make the headmaster come to the bank in person, why?”

“Because G107 000 is missing from the Potter family vault. I suspect that the goblins want to put Dumbledore under their version of Veritaserum and to ask him about that missing money.”

“Understood so far. Now how does that relate to Deceived Disguise Potion?”

“Suppose you walk into the bank lobby with my key. If you look like Hermione and you say your name is Hermione, it’s business as usual because the goblins figure you have my permission to use the key. But suppose you walk in looking like me because you’re Polyjuiced, and you give your name as ‘Harry Potter’; but sometime between the Gringotts steps and the doors of my vault, your disguise fails—how do you think Gringotts will react?”

“They won’t act sweetly. They might even kill me.”

“This is why Dumbledore hasn’t walked into the bank, even with taking Polyjuice Potion—because somehow the goblins can make Polyjuice Potion fail. But do you think Dumbledore would be interested in a shapeshifting potion that the goblins couldn’t detect and couldn’t counter? Then Dumbledore could waltz in whilst looking like John Smith, someone who isn’t on the Banned Proxies list, and now Dumbledore could visit all his vaults and could withdraw money, without being grabbed and put on trial for stealing G107 000.”

“I can see that,” Hermione said. “If someone claimed to have a potion like that, the headmaster would sell his golden throne to get the recipe.”

“On the other hand, if Dumbledore were willing to accept punishment by the goblins, a ‘new and improved’ Polyjuice Potion wouldn’t interest him at all—in the immortal words of Larsen E. Whipsnade, ‘You can’t cheat an honest man.’ ”

Hermione said, “I think I understand now. What you want to do is to make Professor Dumbledore walk into the bank thinking he looks like John Smith, but actually he has no disguise at all.”

“Right, exactly.”

“But why do you want to do this to him?”

“Because he’s convinced that he’s the smartest person in Wizarding Britain. That whatever secret scheme he is working at the moment is perfect because he thought it up, so the scheme doesn’t need to be changed—no matter how much human suffering his scheme causes. I suffered ten years of starvation and beatings because of one of his schemes, and it’s only because of Delphi knowledge that I know what his ultimate goal is. He deserves humbling, Hermione, plus I want to see his face when I tell him, ‘It was Harry Potter who played the ultimate prank on you.’ ”

Hermione’s finger tapped and tapped on the page that talked about Deceived Disguise Potion. At last she said, “Do it, Harry. You make a good case. You’ll still keep my respect and my lo—me liking you.”

Chapter 19: UnMarked

Chapter Text

The next morning, after breakfast
Tuesday, 22nd October
The headmaster’s office

When Albus sat down at his desk, he found a letter waiting for him.

Albus did not at first open it; instead, he ran every kind of diagnostic spell he knew. His spells told him that the letter had no charms or curses on it. The one magical signature told Albus that the letter had been written and delivered by a house-elf—but the house-elf’s magical signature did not match any of the Hogwarts house-elves.

Albus wondered, How could a house-elf who isn’t a Hogwarts elf come into the castle and leave this letter on my desk? Augusta’s house-elf and Cyrus’s house-elf were blocked by a ward from doing this.

Albus decided that it was safe to open the letter, so he broke the wax seal and began to read.

Albus my friend,

I won’t tell you my name, but we’ve chatted in the past. You’d recognise my name if I chose to tell you my name.

Rumour has it that you’ve stolen much, much money from at least one other person’s vault, and so Gringotts has put you on their sh*tlist.

Rumour also says that if you walk into Gringotts, you’ll be arrested and put on trial—and everyone knows that goblin trials never end well. Meanwhile, another rumour says that all the people you trust to do your banking for you, have been banned as your proxies. And forget using a glamour or Polyjuice Potion—the goblins would spot you before you even reached a teller window.

It sucks to be you, Albus. Truly.

Fortunately, I’ve a solution. It’ll be expensive, but what other choice do you have?

Undoubtedly you’re aware that the dwarves have a banking system in Switzerland; I trust you’re also aware that the dwarves and the goblins are competitive. It turns out that the Switzerland dwarves have invented a shape-shifting potion that the goblins can’t detect and can’t neutralise. The dwarves haven’t actually used this potion—to do so would start a dwarves-goblins war—but the goblins know that the dwarves could use their shape-shifting potion to destroy Gringotts if the dwarves were angry enough at the goblins.

I’ve a contact amongst the dwarves at DwerfBank Suisse, and I now have the full recipe to “Swiss Dwarves’ Shape-Shifting Potion.” I’ve brewed the potion and tested it in Gringotts, disguised as my brother-in-law. I didn’t push my luck; I walked in, presented my key whilst pretending to be my brother-in-law, went down to my vault, filled a moneybag and left the bank, all without the goblins discovering who I actually was.

For you to get the recipe, it will cost you five hundred galleons. Send your owl to Diagon Mail Service, Box 739.

John Bull

Albus snarled, but then realised he had no real choice. However, he was not about to let “John Bull” stay in control here. Albus wrote back—

Mr Bull,

I will pay only one hundred galleons. Before you see even one knut, I insist that you tell me your true name. Without knowing your name, I have no reason to trust you.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Albus added a few magical tricks to the letter: a Tracking charm, a Compulsion to read Albus’s letter aloud, and a Portkey that would take “John Bull” to the Dumbledore House dungeon when Bull said the word Brian.

Albus, feeling proud of himself, went to the Owlery and sent off his letter.

(Albus would not have been in such a happy mood if he knew that the Spirit of Hogwarts had killed all of Albus’s magical tricks, even before the letter had left Hogwarts airspace.)

****

Lunchtime, in the Great Hall

An owl brought Albus a letter. On the front of the letter, in the upper-left corner, was written, “John Bull.” Albus wondered, How did you escape being Portkeyed into my dungeon?

Albus pulled the now-dodgy Elder Wand and tried to trace the Tracking Charm that he had put on his outbound letter. Alas, the result of the trace was “Unable to locate.”

Sighing, Albus opened up John Bull’s letter—

Albus,

I’m not the thief here. You’re in no position to make demands. “I insist that you tell me your true name.” Are you serious? If one of us should “insist” on anything, it is I. I insist that you not pay me the five hundred galleons in leprechaun gold. (We both know you’ve considered the idea.)

John Bull

Albus scowled, reading the letter. Albus’s next letter (which again was magically tricked out) offered to pay G125.

John Bull was not transported to the Dumbledore House dungeon when he read Albus’s latest letter, and again Dumbledore’s tracking charm could not be traced. But there was one bit of good news: John Bull’s third letter did drop his asking price—to G498.

****

A week later
Tuesday, 29th October

By 24th October, Albus had come up on his offered price, to G200. John Bull had come down only to G480. Bull had replied in his latest letter, “I’m tired of all these knut-and-sickle negotiations of yours. Owl me when you’re serious about buying the recipe.”

Albus had been too proud to offer much more than G200—nobody got the best of Albus Dumbledore! But John Bull sent no more letters—he was either patient, indifferent, or crafty.

But on 29th October, Albus’s calendar told him that the Hogwarts faculty needed to be paid in two days—and Albus had no idea how he was going to achieve this (other than by borrowing from Sirius Black again and being forced to speak another magical oath).

So on 29th October, Albus abased himself to get his hands on G480. But the actual collecting of 480 gold coins took until the next day—nobody who had money wanted to give it to Albus.

****

Still Tuesday, 29th October
The Slytherin Library

By now Harry had found two Parsel sticking-charms (and their counters); Hermione had found one more. But which of the three Parsel sticking-charms did Voldemort use for the Dark Mark wafers?

When Harry asked this question aloud, Hermione had a strange reply: “Harry, how many Parseltext books are in the regular Hogwarts library?”

“None, unless Madam Pince has them hidden away.”

“So all the Parseltext books in this school are either here”—she waved her hand about, to mean the library they were in—“or in the bookcase in Slytherin’s flat. Right?”

“Yes...,” Harry said, wondering what point Hermione was making.

“And we’re sure that Tom Riddle, when he was here fifty years ago, never found this library.”

Harry grinned. “That, or he didn’t mind walking through a thousand years of choking dust.”

“So here’s my idea: The sticking-charm that he used, can only be written-up in one of the books in that bookcase, not here in this library. So use your Parsel text-search spell on those hundred or so books in that bookcase. However-many sticking-charms you find, one of them will be what Voldemort uses on the wafers.”

****

Hermione watched Harry walk out of the Parseltext library, headed for Salazar Slytherin’s flat and its bookcase. Less than three minutes later, Harry ran back into the library, a book in his hand. “Hermione, you were right! Over in that bookcase, there’s only one version of the spell!”

Harry had used a finger to mark his place in that book. Now he dropped the book onto the table in front of Hermione, and pointed to part of the right-side page. “Here’s the second Parsel sticking-charm we found, and the only one that Riddle would’ve found.”

Hermione said, “Harry, remember that this is Parseltext. I can’t read it.”

Harry, blushing with embarrassment, made a blue-covered copy of the book. This is how Hermione relearnt the sticking-charm that she had found two days ago—Stick these two surfaces together—and its counter, Unstick these two surfaces.

Harry said, “Hermione, I think this is the right spell, and the right counterspell! Let’s go find Snape.”

****

Ten minutes later

Harry and Hermione were sitting in the corridor outside Professor Snape’s Potions classroom in the dungeons.

At the moment, Professor Snape was teaching NEWT-level Potions for sixth-years. Clearly it almost killed Harry, having to wait till the class finished; Hermione could not guess why Harry was so antsy. Is this another Delphi thing? she wondered.

****

Forty minutes later
In Snape’s Potions classroom

Besides Snape himself, three other people were in the classroom: Andromeda Tonks, Harry and Hermione. None of Snape’s fifth- through seventh-year students were present.

At the moment, Snape was sitting on a stool by the teacher’s desk. The left sleeve of his robe was pulled up all the way to his elbow. His left forearm was resting on the edge of the desk, turned sideways.

Snape, unlike the three other people in the room, looked calm.

Harry had his wand pointing at the Dark Mark on Snape’s forearm, but had not yet cast the spell. Harry felt nervous, and both Andromeda Tonks and Hermione looked nervous.

Snape said, “Andi, if this kills me, tell the Aurors that I hold Mr Potter completely blameless.”

That’s when it hit Harry: I could be sent to Azkaban for what I’m about to do.

Snape asked Hermione, “Miss Granger, have you checked Mr Potter’s research?”

Hermione nodded. “Harry will use the right spell, professor. We’re both sure of it.”

“Do it, Mr Potter,” Snape said calmly.

Harry hissed, “§Unstick these two surfaces.§”

The Dark Mark wafer dropped from Snape’s forearm onto the table.

Harry exhaled with relief.

“You did it, Harry!” Hermione yelled. She hugged Harry and kissed his cheek.

“Merlin on a toadstool,” muttered Andromeda Tonks.

“Thank you, Mr Potter,” Snape said calmly. “Mr Potter and Miss Granger, twenty points apiece to Ravenclaw for exceptional research.”

****

As soon as Hermione finished hugging Harry, Harry saw her use her wand to levitation-flip the wafer over.

The underside of the wafer showed a series of honeycombs—hexagonal tiles outlined with thin, black lines. Entirely contained within most of the cells of the honeycomb, not over or under any black lines, were runes.

Andi rushed out of Snape’s Potions classroom to fetch the Ancient Runes professor, Bathsheda Babbling.

****

Professor Babbling was a young woman in her twenties, only a few years older than Nymphadora Tonks. Babbling walked into the Potions laboratory carrying parchment, a quill and an ink bottle.

Babbling’s face showed confusion when she walked into Snape’s Potions laboratory and saw Snape (whose left hand was casually resting on the teacher’s desk), two first-year students (one of whom was Harry Potter), and no runes-covered parchment.

Babbling looked even more confused when Snape immediately demanded from her an oath that she would not reveal what she learnt in this Potions classroom today, without his permission.

After Babbling gave her oath, Snape lifted his hand off the table. He said, “This strange little thing on the table, Bathsheda, is my Dark Mark wafer, turned bottom-side up. Mr Potter and Miss Granger discovered how to remove the Dark Mark from my arm.”

Babbling choked in her surprise, then walked round the desk to see the Dark Mark better. She wound up conjuring something like a microscope, because the runes on the wafer were so tiny.

Quivering with excitement, Babbling began to copy onto parchment, the runes that she saw. Then she announced her findings to the Potions professors and to the first-years—

“Inside each honeycomb is one runic command; if a command needs several honeycombs’ worth of writing area, some of the containing black lines are erased. The runic commands are for instant death, for pain beyond imagining, portkey, colour change, health-drain, magic-drain, tampering detection, message in, message out, Morsmordre and the protean charm. The default magic-drain is just enough to power the wafer.”

“It’s a magical, evil computer chip,” said Hermione.

Andi said, “That thing has runes for killing? You mean You-Know-Who could have killed Severus from a hundred miles away?”

Snape said, “This would explain something about the Dark Lord that I always found odd: He transfigures a Death Eater’s Dark Mark wafer, and the Dark Lord then sticks the wafer to the new Death Eater’s arm, but the Dark Lord himself wears no Dark Mark.”

Hermione said, “Because he doesn’t want anyone able to remotely kill him.”

Harry said, “I have a different question. Suppose, purely imaginary, let’s say that Voldemort is alive.—”

Hermione shot Harry a sharp look.

Harry continued, “Would Voldemort know now that Professor Snape has lost his Dark Mark?”

Babbling drew her wand and waved it over “the magical, evil computer chip.” She said, “No. All the runes here are inert; they lost power when they lost contact with Severus’s skin. The message-out runes could send no message out.”

“Besides,” said Hermione, “Voldemort isn’t part of the network—how could he be told? I don’t think he cooked up a contingency plan for if someone successfully removed a Dark Mark.”

Snape said, “So to summarise: I am free of the Dark Mark, no Death Eaters know, and the Dark Lord does not know.” Snape then smiled—briefly.

Babbling, her face showing horror, looked at Snape and at Harry. “I thought You-Know-Who was dead.”

Snape turned the Dark Mark over, so that its usual side—which showed a snake coming out of a skull’s mouth—faced up. Everyone could see clearly that the Dark Mark was not dark at all.

Snape said, “Right now the Dark Lord is not healthy and robust. But neither is he dead.”

****

Harry asked Snape, “What do you plan to do with this wafer? If it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep it. For study.”

Hermione shot Harry another look.

Snape shrugged. “I happily would destroy the wafer with Fiendfyre. If you want it, take it.”

Harry summoned Greyclay and told him, “Please fetch that little lead box that I had you transfigure. Then you are dismissed.” Snap. Pop. Harry levitated the Dark Mark wafer into the small lead box, shut the lid, locked the box-lid shut with Colloportus, then put the lead box in his pocket.

“Why use lead for the box?” Hermione asked.

Babbling replied, “So that the wafer’s evil magic can’t affect anyone outside the box.”

****

The next morning
Wednesday, 30th October

Albus was feeling desperate (another payroll was due tomorrow). He also was feeling humiliated that John Bull had bested him—and Albus still did not know John Bull’s real name! Albus felt all these feelings when, after breakfast, he owled G480 to John Bull’s post-box.

At lunch, an unremarkable postal owl delivered to Albus the recipe for “Swiss Dwarves’ Shape-Shifting Potion.” Albus thought, All right, goblins, you think you’re more clever than Albus Dumbledore? I’ll show you!

After lunch, Albus called Severus over and shoved the recipe-parchment into the potions-master’s hands. Albus said, “I need this brewed by tomorrow.”

Severus glanced over the recipe, then said, “But headmaster—”

“No questions, Severus. Have this brewed by tomorrow!”

Severus bowed slightly. “As you command, headmaster.” Severus turned and, with the billowing of robes, walked away.

Albus wondered if he was missing something. Severus bowed like that, and spoke those particular words, only when he was being sarcastic or ironic.

****

Despite the potion’s title of “Swiss Dwarves’ Shape-Shifting Potion,” Snape did not for one second believe that the potion he had just been ordered to brew, worked anything like Polyjuice Potion.

Admittedly Snape was confused about the requirement for two live hairs from the same human donor—which also was one of the ingredients in Polyjuice Potion.

But neither fluxweed nor lacewing flies were listed as ingredients for this potion, and every shape-shifting potion that Snape had ever heard of, needed those two ingredients. Even Rowena Ravenclaw’s Potion for Shyfting Schaep of a thousand years ago, needed fluxweed and lacewing flies to work.

But whilst Snape noted what was not in the recipe, he also took note of the ingredients that were in the recipe—

• crushed pea-plant leaves—used in potions that caused the drinker to feel something that was not there, such as ants crawling on one’s skin;

• sliced raven feathers—used in potions that caused the drinker to see something that was not there, such as a blue unicorn in the room; and

• dried and ground dandelion seeds—used in potions that caused the drinker to hear something that was not there, such as a dead person’s voice.

Snape was not clear what exactly this potion was meant to do. But since the potion made the drinker feel something, see something and hear something that was not there, the potion created a quite believable illusion of some sort.

Snape decided that if the headmaster intended to drink a potion that would fool him convincingly, Snape would stand aside without a peep and watch as the headmaster was made the fool.

****

The next day (Thursday, 31st October), morning
The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom

Harry sat in class and knew, because of his knowledge of the future, that in about eight hours, Professor Quirrell would attempt to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry had two plans to stop him, but the first plan required that Dumbledore leave the castle.

Fortunately, Harry had a plan for this too—a plan that yesterday had made Harry G480 richer.

At the moment, Quirrell was stuttering at the front of the classroom, and Harry was convinced that today the turbaned professor’s stuttering was the worst it had ever been.

But Quirrell was not the only person in the classroom who was pretending to be worthless. Harry was spending all of today’s class-time wearing a befuddled expression, and when Quirrell asked Harry what the incantation for the Shield Charm was, Harry deliberately spoke the wrong answer. (“Protectio,” Harry said, when the correct incantation was Protego.)

However, Harry had not realised that when he answered wrong, Hermione would give him a frowning, disappointed look, and this hurt.

****

At lunchtime
At the High Table in the Great Hall

As soon as Albus sat down in his golden throne, Severus walked over and placed a potion-phial by his plate. Severus started to turn away.

Albus snapped, “I expected this at breakfast. Your tardiness has disrupted plans of mine.”

“It was not ready at breakfast. I did not finish brewing the potion till about an hour after seventh-year NEWT Potions this morning.”

“I recall that the recipe’s instructions mentioned ‘five hours.’ You could have finished the potion last night.”

“True, headmaster, I could have, but then I would have gone to bed late. I never go to bed late, except because of an emergency. This was not an emergency. Last night at 10 p.m., I put the potion under stasis and went to bed.”

Albus growled, “I am the headmaster, and I gave you a task to perform. You do not consider such a thing to be an emergency?”

Snape replied, “I teach the most dangerous subject here. If I am groggy in class and a dunderhead has an accident, this could mean the child dies. I will not have such a thing on my conscience. Now, headmaster, today is payday. Is my pay already in my vault? Or must I wait till you meet with Lord Black, then you pay me in person?”

“Severus, I am disappointed that you do not trust me. I intend to go to Gringotts this afternoon and to get Hogwarts’s finances straightened out, once and for all.”

“I look forward to it, headmaster,” Severus said. Albus could not read Severus’s expression.

****

Meanwhile, at the Ravenclaw table

Harry and Hermione were talking to Terry Boot and to Su Li when Harry suddenly felt a sharp pain on the top of his head. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

“It felt like someone yanked two live hairs from my head.”

Hermione and a third-year Ravenclaw boy both looked horrified. They both were clearly thinking, Polyjuice Potion!

At the Slytherin table, Daphne Greengrass stood up and walked over to where the Ravenclaw firsties were eating.

Daphne said, “Oi, Heir Potter, you missed the excitement over in Slytherin First-Year Charms this morning.”

Cho Chang said, “Snake Girl, what are you doing here? This table is for the smart kids, not the evil kids.”

Hermione said, “Then you’re sitting at the wrong table, Chang, because you’re an evil little bully.”

“Watch your mouth, firstie,” Marietta Edgecombe snarled. Marietta said to Daphne, “Get gone, snake. You’re not wanted here.”

“Listen up, not-prefects,” said Hermione to Marietta and Cho. “The rules say Daphne can stand anywhere in the Great Hall and talk to anyone, and sit anywhere if she’s invited.” Hermione shot Cho and Marietta triumphant looks; the bully girls scowled. Clearly to twist their tails, Hermione then said, “I invite you to sit with us, Daphne.”

Daphne replied, “No thank you, Hermione, but thanks for the invite.”

“Anyway, Daphne,” Harry said, “what happened in your Charms class?” Harry felt dread. He had memories of Gryffindor First-Year Charms class in his previous lifetime, learning how to levitate a feather—and vivid memories of Ron’s cruel words to Hermione after class.

Meanwhile, Daphne was answering, “Bilious was being a waste of space again. We were practising the Levitation Charm, but Bilious kept getting the pronunciation wrong: Wingardium levio-SA. How could he get the pronunciation wrong? He’s from a magical family—I learnt the correct pronunciation when I was nine.”

Harry asked, “So how did Bilious mispronouncing the spell cause ‘excitement’?”

“Millie came over and tried to help him. Which made him all red-faced—but amazingly, Bilious didn’t say something enormously stupid in class. Anyway, even with Millie’s help, it took till almost the end of class for Bilious to float his feather. Then, as soon as class ended and we were all out in the corridor, Bilious called Millie ‘an ugly troll swot with no friends.’ Bilious made my cousin cry.”

Harry felt horror. “Is Millicent okay now? She—she isn’t crying in a lavatory, is she?”

Daphne looked at Harry in surprise. “No, she wasn’t that upset, because I quickly gave her a hug—and you know what a big deal this is.” Because Purebloods don’t hug. “No, the problem is just that now at lunch, Millie is quiet and she’s all pouty and sad-looking.”

“Daphne, here’s what I want you to do. First, give Millicent another hug—and say loudly that this hug is from Millicent’s friend, Harry Potter. Second, walk up to Bilious and dump a cup of pumpkin juice on his head—and tell him that this is from Harry Potter too.”

For Daphne dumping pumpkin juice on that git Bilious’s head at Harry’s request, Snape assigned Harry and Daphne detention that evening, after the Halloween Feast—one hour of detention.

Then Snape cleaned up and dried off Bilious. With arctic coldness, Snape said to the boy, “Mr Weasley, you I will deal with separately. I have in mind for you, something other than cleaning cauldrons nonmagically. Something you will not like.”

****

Meanwhile at the Ravenclaw table, Cho murmured to Marietta, “That bushy-haired beaver has crossed the line. This afternoon, you and I will deal with her.”

Marietta smiled evilly. “Especially since I found in the library a spell that fixes a meddling house-elf.”

****

Fifteen minutes later
In the headmaster’s suite, Hogwarts SOW&W

Albus drank the “Swiss Dwarves’ Shape-Shifting Potion,” with two live hairs from Harry Potter added to the potion. Albus had chosen Harry Potter as the person to copy because Albus knew that Gringotts would never bother the person who they thought was Harry Potter. Besides, after all the trouble the brat had caused Albus, the boy deserved to have his appearance “borrowed.”

Seconds after drinking the potion, Albus felt his body change. Fascinated Albus watched in the mirror as his beard retracted, his long grey hair retracted and darkened, and the wrinkles in his face smoothed out, even as the face itself shifted.

Best of all, Albus’s clothing changed—becoming those blue trousers that Muggle children favoured, plus a long-sleeved button-up shirt; both covered with Ravenclaw robes. Albus’s black-leather shoes became green-cloth trainers.

Did my voice change? Albus wondered. Aloud, he said, “Testing, testing, three, seven, thirteen, seventeen.” Albus was delighted to hear his words spoken with the mezzo-soprano voice of eleven-year-old Harry Potter, not in Albus’s own baritone voice.

Albus was grinning like a fool as he scooped up all seventeen of the vault keys he controlled—the key to his family vault, keys to his fourteen personal vaults and keys to the two Hogwarts vaults that he oversaw as headmaster.

Once Albus had shrunk and had pocketed all seventeen keys, he walked up to the Floo Fireplace. “Leaky Cauldron,” he called out in a boy’s voice. One second later, Albus was magically gone from the castle.

When Albus stepped out of the Floo Fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, he heard some grunts and whistles made by the people there, but Albus paid no attention to them.

As Albus climbed up the stairs of Gringotts, he saw two goblin guards tighten their grips on their war-axes. Albus wondered if someone had made death-threats against Harry Potter that Albus had not heard about.

Albus opened the front door and stepped into the bank lobby. As he stepped to the rear of the queue for speaking to a teller, he recognised the witch in the bright-green robes, two people ahead of him in the queue, as Rita Skeeter.

Albus hoped that Skeeter would not try to wheedle an interview with the Boy Who Lived. Albus really did not need more problems today.

****

Meanwhile, in Harry’s dormitory in Ravenclaw

Harry was sitting on his bed, waiting. Harry had been doing this—sitting on his bed and waiting—since he had left the Great Hall at the end of lunch.

Pop. A Hogwarts house-elf appeared in front of Harry. “Spirit of Hoggywarts sent Footy to tell you, Headmaster Dumbly is out of the castle.”

Finally, Harry thought. Aloud, he said, “Thank you, Footy. You may go.”

Pop. Harry opened his trunk and grabbed his Haroldus Cyrus Potter wand, which he pocketed.

After Footy left, Harry called Greyclay. Pop. Greyclay was perfect for Harry’s next job for two reasons. First, Greyclay was one of the few house-elves in Wizarding Britain, other than the Hogwarts elves, who could elf-pop anywhere inside Hogwarts; and second, Greyclay would not answer any of the whiskered wanker’s questions, should they meet.

Harry had Greyclay elf-pop him to just outside of the locked door to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Harry summoned the Spirit of Hogwarts and asked her, “Is any student or professor in there, alive or dead?” Harry was pretty sure what the answer would be, but he wanted to be sure.

“No. Nobody is in there.”

“Good,” Harry said. He unlocked the door with Alohom*ora, then cast the Stasis Charm on Fluffy the Cerberus. Harry shut the door and locked it with Colloportus.

Harry said to the Spirit, “I want that Alohom*ora now will work on this door only if I cast it, or Minerva McGonagall casts it.”

“Change made.”

“I put Fluffy in stasis so the Cerberus won’t starve to death if it’s a long time before this door is unlocked.”

“This is kind of you,” the Spirit said.

“Please let me know when the wards are reassigned to Minerva McGonagall”—when Dumbledore no longer was headmaster. “I expect this to be soon. Also, let me know when Quirrell goes anywhere other than to his quarters, his classroom and the Great Hall.”

“As you wish.”

“You are dismissed.” The Spirit curtseyed, then vanished.

Greyclay had been quietly standing next to Harry during Harry’s entire conversation with the Spirit of Hogwarts. Now Harry said to Greyclay, “Ahead of us on the other side of this door, maybe down a bit, is a chamber with a magic mirror in it. Take us to that chamber.”

Pop.

****

The chamber was built from stone blocks. Three torches, in sconces, lit themselves as soon as Harry and Greyclay entered the room. Directly ahead of Harry was the Mirror of Erised.

Harry looked into the Mirror. He saw himself in his late twenties; he had a trimmed beard. He was holding a girl, about five years old, with bushy, black hair and hazel eyes. A toddler boy, about two years old, with messy, chestnut-brown hair and green eyes, was clutching Harry’s trouser-leg. Beside Harry and those two children stood late-twenties Hermione, who was holding a redheaded, green-eyed baby in her arms. Harry and Hermione were smiling at each other, and their children were smiling at their parents.

Harry thought, I want the Philosopher’s Stone that is in the mirror, so that I can return the Stone to its rightful owner.

The toddler boy had something that he had been holding in the fist of his free hand. Now the boy stood on tiptoes, reached up, and dropped whatever he had been holding into Dad-Harry’s pocket.

At the same time, real Harry felt a small weight hit the bottom of his real pocket. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the red Philosopher’s Stone that he had last seen six years ago.

Feeling a sense of relief, Harry said to Greyclay, “Take me back to my dormitory in Ravenclaw Tower.”

Once this had been done, Harry handed the Philosopher’s Stone to Greyclay. “Take this to Nicholas Flamel. Tell him that Dumbledore lied to him—whatever story Dumbledore told Flamel that he needed the Stone for, what Dumbledore actually used the Stone for was to lure Voldemort to a school full of children. The wraith of Voldemort is possessing Professor Quirinus Quirrell.”

Pop—Greyclay was gone.

Harry felt satisfaction. He had removed the Philosopher’s Stone so that Voldemort could not steal it and could not bring himself fully back to life. And by locking the door to the forbidden corridor with a spell that not even Voldemort could unlock, Harry also had prevented the students of Hogwarts from dying “a most painful death.”

Whilst Harry was in his dormitory, the Spirit of Hogwarts appeared to him and said, “With the arrest of Albus Dumbledore in Gringotts, and his trial and conviction in a goblin court, he no longer is the headmaster at Hogwarts.”

Harry said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to watch. I would’ve been dancing in my seat.”

****

Earlier
In the Gringotts lobby

Albus, believing that everyone saw him as Harry Potter, opened the door at the top of the steps and entered the bank lobby. As he stepped to the rear of the queue for speaking to a teller, he recognised the witch in the bright-green robes, two people ahead of him in the queue, as Rita Skeeter.

Immediately one of the bank tellers pointed at Albus and yelled, “Savt kar Dumbledore Albus-ok, megkrob pu!”

Within seconds, two goblin guards were poking Albus with spears. “Come with us,” one demanded. “Albus Dumbledore, you are under arrest for theft.”

Albus was feeling dragon-sized panic. “I’m not Albus Dumbledore, I’m Harry Potter!”

Rita Skeeter, who now was watching the show, rolled her eyes. “You can’t be Harry Potter, because I’m Harry Potter.”

A man in the queue said, “No, I’m Harry Potter.”

A man in Muggle clothes said, “Not me, I’m Spartacus.”

A goblin officer ran up. One of the two goblins who was poking Albus with a spear said to the officer, whilst laughing scornfully, “Tok jikap tok kar Potter Harry yeb.”

The goblin officer said to Dumbledore, “You’re a liar. I’m Harry Potter, cleverly disguised.”

The goblin officer put magic-suppressing manacles on Dumbledore. Then Albus did not look and sound like Harry Potter, he looked and sounded like himself—

—but Albus did not feel the reverse shape-shifting that he had felt whenever he had taken Polyjuice Potion and it had worn off.

I never transformed, he realised. I only thought I transformed. I walked in here looking like Albus Dumbledore, the wizard whom Gringotts wanted to arrest. I paid G480 to a magical swindler.

****

Albus demanded that he be handed over to the custody of the DMLE. The goblins’ reply, stripped of all insults, was “No, this won’t happen.”

Albus was walked to a goblin courtroom and was forced to drink goblin truth serum.

Albus got in trouble right from the start, when he told the court that his true name was Albus Percival Dumbledore; Wulfric and Brian were added later to impress people.

Then the hard questioning began. Truth-potioned Albus confessed that he and Bronzedagger had worked out a scheme to divert G107 000 from the Potter family vault to someplace where the goblins would never find it: Muggle bank accounts. Bronzedagger had taken G10 700 for himself as a handling fee; Albus had no guess what Bronzedagger had done with this money. But the rest had been put in Barclays Bank, into four accounts of £120 400 each, in the names of Albert Bumbelby, Percy Bumbelby, Wolfgang Bumbelby and Brian Bumbelby.

Under further questioning, Albus confessed that he had been the magical guardian to fourteen orphans who had died in the Blood War, and Albus had seized ownership of their vaults. Nobody in the Ministry of Magic had objected.

Only fifteen minutes passed between the time that Albus was arrested in the bank lobby and the time that he was ordered to stand in the courtroom, to hear the pronouncement of his sentence—

All four of Albus’s Barclays bank accounts would be combined into one Barclays account, under the control of Harry James Potter. In addition, G21 400 would be taken from other vaults controlled by Albus (but not from his Hogwarts vaults), and would be transferred to the Potter family vault. Finally, Albus was sentenced to two hundred years of hard labour in Gringotts London’s gold mine.

As soon as the goblin judge pronounced sentence and banged his gavel, Albus felt the magical weight of the Hogwarts wards leave him. Albus Dumbledore no longer was headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

****

Minerva was trying to organise the purchase of food on credit, when she felt the Hogwarts wards shift to her. Five minutes later, an owl delivered a letter to her from Gringotts. In the letter was the news that Albus Percival Dumbledore had been sentenced to two hundred years in a goblin mine; also, enclosed were new keys to Hogwarts’s two vaults, since Minerva was now the school’s headmistress.

Hogwarts’s newly minted headmistress got so busy with trying to straighten out the financial foulups that Dumbledore had left behind, she gave no thought at all to what her DADA professor might be doing.

****

Meanwhile in the Hogwarts Library

Hermione was sitting with the all-Houses firsties at their favourite library table when Professor Flitwick entered the library and rushed up to them. “Miss Granger, I need for you to come with me now. You may leave your books and parchments here.”

Hermione hurried out of the library, next to the tiny professor.

But minutes later, just as the two of them passed an empty classroom with an open door—Hermione wondered, Why is the door open if the classroom isn’t in use?—she realised, “Professor, this isn’t the way—”

“Stupefy,” said a girl’s voice behind Hermione.

Hermione passed out.

****

When Hermione was revived, she was in an empty classroom, she was tied up with ropes and Cho and Marietta were grinning in triumph at her.

“Where’s Professor Flitwick?” Hermione asked.

Marietta said, “You gormless mudblood bint, you never even thought to check for a glamour, did you? ‘Professor Flitwick’ was me. You fell right into our trap.”

Cho glared at tied-up Hermione. “You were rude to us at lunch, you ugly-hair, ugly-teeth mudblood.” She slapped Hermione across the face. Hard.

Marietta also slapped Hermione, likewise using force enough to hurt. “You disrespected us. Not allowed, mudblood, you understand?”

Pop. the sound of an elf-pop came from behind Hermione and to her right.

Then events happened quickly—

“Stupefy,” Cho yelled; at the same time, Marietta yelled, “Petrificus alfrem.”

Hermione, with her head turned to the right as far as it could go, saw Glaze turn to stone and fall on her back.

Hermione heard the sound of a second body hitting the floor behind her. Before Hermione had time to worry, Harry’s voice said, “Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Stupefy. Stupefy.”

Next to Hermione, Marietta and Cho both were knocked backwards and got their wands yanked from their hands, then both bully-girls dropped to the floor.

In the sudden quiet, Harry said “Finite,” and Hermione’s ropes disappeared.

(Hermione, always curious, wondered how Harry knew that the shorter Finite would work, and that he did not need to say the longer Finite incantatem.)

Hermione, now free of her ropes, turned towards Harry and rushed towards him, as he rushed towards her. They hugged—

—then Harry’s head reared back, and his face showed anger. “You’re bleeding.”

Hermione touched fingers to the left corner of her mouth; those fingers came away red. “Each of them slapped me hard.”

Harry scowled.

Harry’s next order of business was de-petrifying Glaze. Luckily, Harry and Hermione made only six wrong tries before Hermione guessed the correct incantation (Non petrificus alfrem) to de-petrify a house-elf.

Once Glaze was on her feet, Harry pointed to the two unconscious bully-girls. “Glaze, cocoon them with ropes, then wake them up.”

Once Cho and Marietta were alert but were unable to move, Harry said to them, “I told you inbreds to leave Hermione alone, but you didn’t listen. Instead, you two. Drew. Blood.”

Hermione saw both bully-girls’ eyes glance at Hermione’s face. Their eyes widened.

Harry continued, “I’ve had more experience with bullies than I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve learnt that any kind of ‘Why can’t we all get along?’ speech is a waste of time. You two inbreds are bullies, and bullies understand only power and pain—when you two had power over Hermione, you caused her pain. But now, ladies—and I use this term loosely—I have the power.”

Cho blustered, “If you hurt us, Potter, you’ll get detention at the least.”

“Will I? I’m not as sure of this as you. But in any case, I’m willing to risk whatever sh*t the professors give me, for what I’m about to do.”

Both bully-girls now looked terrified.

Harry held out his right hand as he said to Glaze, “Please conjure a pub dart.” Both bully-girls looked puzzled; clearly they didn’t recognise the term. Harry added, “A pub dart with a sharp tip.”

As soon as the dart appeared in Harry’s hand, he wrapped his fingers about the shaft of the dart. Moving quickly, he stabbed Marietta in the shoulder—

“Aggh!”

—then Harry stabbed Cho in the shoulder—“Owww!”

“Oh, you poor babies,” Hermione said with fake sympathy. “Did that hurt?” Then Hermione stepped forwards and, using both hands, slapped Cho twice about the face, and Marietta twice about the face. Both of Hermione’s hands were stinging when she was done. “That felt good,” she said.

Harry said, “Remember, Cho; remember, Marietta: You bully Hermione, I bully you. You make Hermione bleed, I make you bleed more. If Hermione ever gets sent to the hospital wing because of you two inbreds, I’ll make you regret your choices in life.”

Cho said, “You don’t know who my father is, Potter.”

“Clearly he’s someone who is neglecting his child-rearing duties. Feel free to quote me on that.”

****

Seconds later, still in the empty classroom

With help from Harry’s house-elf Glaze, the bully-girls’ wands had been sent to lay atop Professor Flitwick’s desk, and the girls themselves, each still tied up in a cocoon of ropes, had been sent to Flitwick’s office.

Harry had told Glaze, “When Professor Flitwick discovers these two in his office, pop in and tell him that they made Hermione bleed. Be sure to tell him that Marietta used a glamour to impersonate Professor Flitwick himself.”

With Glaze and the bully-girls gone, now Harry and Hermione were alone. He was using the Episkey spell to heal her face. Hermione wanted to hug Harry for his kindness.

Pop. But instead of the appearing house-elf being Glaze returning, it was a Hogwarts house-elf who appeared next to Harry and Hermione. This house-elf looked anxious as he announced, “The Spirit of Hoggywarts sends Jerky to tell you, smelly Professor Turban is on the move!”

Hermione saw Harry nod, as if he had been expecting the message. She thought, Another datum in favour of my theory.

Chapter 20: I Died, Hermione

Chapter Text

Still Thursday, 31 October, afternoon
Still in the empty classroom

Pop. A Hogwarts house-elf appeared next to Harry and Hermione. The worried-looking house-elf said, “The Spirit of Hoggywarts sends Jerky to tell you, smelly Professor Turban is on the move!”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Jerky. You may go.” Pop.

Hermione said, “I don’t understand—what’s happening now?”

Harry replied, “Professor Quirrell—he stutters, and he acts stupid, harmless and timid, right? It’s all an act. He’s possessed by Voldemort.”

Hermione gasped.

Harry continued, “Voldemort isn’t dead, but he’s a wraith now—he has no regular body. But he fiercely wants one. Right now, Quirrell-slash-Voldemort is sneaking a twelve-foot mountain troll into the castle.”

Hermione asked, “Why is Professor Quirrell-slash-V-Voldemort sneaking a troll into the castle?”

“Remember the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, that Dumbledore forbade us to enter lest we die?” Harry rolled his eyes. “There, behind a locked door, are supposedly deadly traps, all to protect the Philosopher’s Stone that was made by the ageless alchemist Nicholas Flamel. The Philosopher’s Stone can be used to brew a potion of eternal life, the Elixir of Life. Voldemort plans to use the rampaging troll as a distraction during dinner, whilst he tries to get past the traps and to steal the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Then Harry looked at Hermione with a fierce expression. “Where did Cho and Marietta bring you from? The library?”

When Hermione nodded, Harry said, “I need you to go back to the library now. Or to the Ravenclaw common room. I need to know you’re safe.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Harry. Tell me—in the other today and in the other future, how many times have you fought Voldemort?”

Harry felt gobsmacked. “ ‘In the other future’?” She knows! How does she know?

Hermione replied, “You’re from the future, it’s obvious. For a while, I got stuck trying to figure out how you time-travelled; but then I realised, it doesn’t matter. Now answer my question: How many times in the other timeline’s future have you fought Voldemort?”

“Five. End of first year, second year, fourth year, fifth year and May 1998.”

“And for those five times, Harry James Potter, how many times did older-I run and hide in a bunker to stay safe, whilst you fought Voldemort alone?”

“Dammit, Hermione, you never stayed safe! Second year and fifth year, you put yourself in danger when you didn’t need to, and you almost got killed! Twice!”

“So why do you think that twelve-year-old me, here and now, will hide in the library whilst you face Voldemort alone?”

“Because how can you help me? You’ve been at Hogwarts for two months. What spells do you know? You know how to find and to access your magical core, you know Lumos and Wingardium leviosa, and you know how to transfigure a matchstick into a needle. None of those are combat spells.”

“I know many more spells than those three, and you know this! I just haven’t actually cast all those other spells. Listen, Harry, I’m coming with you. Even if I wind up being killed, I’m coming with you. Now let’s start planning.”

“No,” Harry said. “Have you thought about what happens if you and I don’t die? Today I plan to kill Voldemort and kill about seventy Death Eaters. I don’t want you seeing this! The difference between you and me is, at twelve you’re still innocent, and I don’t want you to lose that innocence.”

“What’s the use of me being so bloody innocent if you’re dead because I didn’t help you? Harry, please let me come with you.”

The room was silent for a time, then—

“Fine. Greyclay!”

Pop. Greyclay appeared. Harry held out his no-Trace Haroldus Cyrus Potter wand to Greyclay and ordered the house-elf, “Put an elfin Notice-Me-Not Charm on this wand, then fetch my Invisibility Cloak.” Snap. Snap. (Harry slipped his no-Trace wand back in his pocket; his schoolboy elder-wood-and-thestral-heartstring wand already was in his pocket.)

As Harry unfolded the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione grabbed his shoulder and stared into his eyes. “One of the little things that showed me that you were from the future was, ten minutes after I met you, you declared me your friend. I pledge to you that you’ll never regret my friendship.”

“Actually, erm, you’re more than my friend. You’re my soulmate.”

Hermione gasped.

“Older-you was my best friend, and I learnt to trust older-you absolutely. Sometimes, older-you was my only friend, and the only person I could trust. I fell in love with you at the end of second year; but five years later, I still hadn’t realised that this was what I was feeling.”

Hermione asked, whilst looking nervous, “Are there any other secrets you’ve been holding back?”

“Two. The first secret is that Voldemort killed me in May 1998; by then, Wizarding Britain was at war. Mentally, I’m almost eighteen years old and a leader of troops. I’ve known older-you for almost seven years. All the secrets that I myself didn’t know during my previous lifetime, my Grim Reaper, Gerhardus, revealed to me after I died. Gerhardus’s boss Thanatos is who sent my mind and memories back through time to 23rd July of this year, which was the day before I received my Hogwarts letter. After I died, and before Thanatos sent my mind back through time, my parents and the four Hogwarts founders helped me plan how I was going to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters this time.”

“Did any of your planning include what to do if the bushy-haired bookworm insisted on coming along?”

“No.” Harry shook his head ruefully. “Which is my fault entirely—I know how you are.”

“You mentioned you have two more secrets, and dying in 1998 is one of them. What’s your other secret?”

“The founders appointed me to be the Designated Secret Substitute. I have a founder’s authority here at Hogwarts; I can overrule professors and even the headmistress. But only the Sorting Hat, the Spirit of Hogwarts, you and me know this.”

“Headmistress?” Hermione asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, sometime between lunchtime and now, Dumbledore got himself arrested, tried and sentenced by the goblins. Minerva McGonagall is the big cheese now.”

“What’s the story with Ron Weasley—Bilious—and Professor Dumbledore? It’s obvious that you hate them both.”

“In my previous lifetime, Dumbledore pretended to be my friend and mentor, whilst he stole from my vault and plotted to convince me that the right thing to do was to let Voldemort kill me. By the way, Dumbledore died in the other future, and he was sent to Hell. As for Bilious a.k.a Ronald Weasley, he used you to do his homework, used me to get fame by association and he betrayed us both. I’m well shot of both of them.”

****

Harry summoned, then questioned, the Spirit of Hogwarts. (Hermione asked the Spirit no questions, but clearly wanted to ask a hundred questions.)

The Spirit told Harry that down in the dungeons, near the entrance to the Slytherin common room, was a hidden tunnel that led to outside the castle. (This was news to Harry; the Marauder’s Map showed no such tunnel.) Quirrellmort had used Parseltongue commands (§Reveal hidden tunnel§, §Open hidden tunnel§, §Close hidden tunnel§ and §Hide revealed tunnel§, respectively) to show the hidden tunnel and to open it; then after Quirrellmort had stepped through the entrance, to close the tunnel and to hide the tunnel again. At the moment, Quirrellmort was in the tunnel with the troll, leading him towards the castle.

Harry and Hermione quickly made plans, which boiled down to: to attack Quirrellmort as soon as he emerged into the dungeons, whilst leaving the troll trapped in the hidden tunnel (if possible). If Harry, Hermione and Greyclay had to fight both Quirrellmort and the troll, the odds of success dropped.

Harry drew his schoolboy wand, and was just about to order Greyclay to elf-pop the three of them into the dungeons, when Hermione spoke—

“Kiss me, Harry. Yes, I know, you’re nearly eighteen in your head, whilst I’m twelve. But ten minutes from now, you might be dead. I might be dead. You tell me we’re soulmates, and it feels true.”

Harry and Hermione kissed. Harry became vaguely aware that the walls of the empty classroom were bright because of some new light source.

****

Harry got Greyclay to elf-pop Hermione and himself to the dungeons. Both first-years hid themselves under the Invisibility Cloak right afterwards.

Harry used §Lock the hidden door§ to block anyone in the Slytherin common room from unwittingly stepping out into the dungeons whilst the battle was raging. Meanwhile, Harry ordered Greyclay to cast a wizard-repelling charm, so that any Slytherins who came into the dungeons intending to reenter their common room, would “realise” they needed to go do something else, somewhere else.

Then it was just a matter of Harry, Hermione and Greyclay waiting till Quirrellmort and the troll entered the dungeons from the hidden tunnel.

****

Alas, when the troll and Quirrellmort entered the dungeons, the troll entered first, so Harry was unable to trap the troll in the tunnel.

Harry, still under his Invisibility Cloak, stunned Quirrellmort. Harry, in this lifetime, did not hands-burn Quirrell, so Voldemort was not aware of his weakness.

There was no dueling, no witty banter and no hair’s-breadth escapes during this “battle.” This was because seventeen pages of notes and plans had boiled down to: Organise things so that you are shooting fish in a barrel. Quirrellmort was Stupefyed before he even suspected he was under attack.

Meanwhile, twelve-year-old Hermione brought her wand-hand out from under the Invisibility Cloak. Hermione used Wingardium leviosa on the troll’s club, to yank the club out of the troll’s hand, then to again and again smack the troll about the face and smack him over the head.

Harry chuckled when he saw this, because of the historical irony. Again, the troll was being beaten up by his own club, using Wingardium leviosa; again, twelve-year-old Hermione was nearby; but this time, Hermione was the spellcaster, not the damsel in distress.

****

Hermione got a clever idea. The troll had carried a tree limb into the dungeons, using that tree limb as a club (till Hermione’s levitation-spell had yanked the tree limb out of the troll’s hand). Working her idea, Hermione now transfigured the tree limb into a steel javelin.

Hermione used Wingardium leviosa again, and the javelin zoomed sideways into (and through) the troll’s brain. Scratch one mountain troll, Hermione thought, whilst savagely grinning.

****

Harry removed the little lead box from his pocket, and set the lead box on the floor. Harry used Wingardium leviosa to take out Snape’s Dark Mark wafer from the lead box, and to move the wafer to Stunned Quirrellmort’s left forearm.

Then Harry Parsel-glued the wafer to Quirrellmort’s forearm with §Adhesio§ (which was a Parsel sticking-charm that Voldemort did not know, thus did not know the counterspell to).

Harry said to Hermione, “This is the first time that Voldemort has been given the Dark Mark.”

Then Harry’s expression turned sombre. Harry told Hermione, “Here’s the real reason I didn’t want you to come: I’m about to murder this man and about fifty to a hundred Death Eaters.”

Harry, without touching Quirrellmort with any hand, used his wand-tip to send this Parseltongue message through Quirrellmort’s Dark Mark: “§To all receivers: Die!§”

(Harry had once been advised, by an expert on the Unforgivables, “You have to mean it, boy!” Now, as Harry sent the killing-command to Voldemort and to all his minions, Harry definitely did “mean it.” He wanted those buggerers dead.)

Quirrell did not scream, gasp or otherwise react; he simply stopped breathing.

Wraithmort burst out of Quirrellmort and tried to attack Harry. Harry, ready for this, hit the evil wraith with “§Disperse.§”

Wraithmort, screaming, dispersed.

****

Hermione asked, “Is Voldemort dead? Is it over?”

Harry cast §Alive or dead?§ on Quirrell’s body. The body flashed red.

“Quirrell is dead. Voldemort isn’t quite dead, and there are two tasks I need to still do. Luckily, the two tasks aren’t hard.”

Then Harry used Wingardium leviosa again, to roll Quirrell’s corpse over, face-down. “Brace yourself,” Harry warned Hermione—

Harry cast Wingardium leviosa again, and Quirrell’s purple turban unwound itself and flew off the back of his head. “Meet ‘Lord’ Voldemort.”

“Eww, Voldemort’s face is ugly,” Hermione said.

“No argument from me,” Harry said.

“Harry, the fifty or a hundred Death Eaters, are they dead too?”

“They are. I’m a murderer.”

“No. You’ve brought justice to the families of the people killed by those Death Eaters.” Hermione gave Harry an extra-long Hermy-hug.

A second later, the Spirit of Hogwarts appeared to Harry and Hermione.

****

The Spirit said, “Harry, I am required to report a death in the castle to the headmistress.”

“No problem. Report to her now that Harry Potter has killed Professor Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort; also please tell her that Hermione Granger killed the troll that Professor Quirrell was trying to sneak into the castle. Harry Potter asks Headmistress McGonagall to come without any other professors, but to bring Director Bones.”

“I obey.”

It took Headmistress McGonagall and Director Bones five minutes to arrive at the dungeons. In that time, Harry had unlocked the Slytherin common-room door with §Unlock this hidden door§, so that Slytherin students again could enter and leave the Slytherin common room. Harry had ordered Greyclay to cancel the wizard-repelling charm near the dungeons.

When Headmistress McGonagall and Madam Bones, who were both wizard-raised, arrived in the dungeons, they surely were surprised by one of the things they saw on the floor outside the Slytherin common-room door. Five rubber-and-plastic portable posts stood, the eyelets of which were threaded with yellow-and-black plastic tape that said “SCENE OF CRIME—DO NOT ENTER.”

Enclosed by this irregular pentagon of crime-scene tape was a dead troll with a steel javelin sticking out of the front of his head; a long length of purple cloth on the floor; Professor Quirrell, lying facedown, with an ugly, red-eyed face on the back of the professor’s head—also, waiting patiently, were Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Greyclay, the head Potter house-elf.

The Invisibility Cloak by then was folded up, and Greyclay was holding it.

“Whose idea was this?” Madam Bones asked, gesturing to mean the crime-scene-tape setup.

Harry grinned at her. “Hermione’s idea—she’s a genius. Greyclay did the actual magic-work.”

Hermione said primly, “On the telly programmes, they say that contaminating the scene of crime is quite the bad thing.”

Both older women stepped under the crime-scene tape. Then Madam Bones asked, “Did your house-elf kill the troll?”

Harry replied proudly, “Oh no, that was all Hermione. A combination of the Levitation Charm and transfiguration.”

Hermione grinned at McGonagall. “The troll was carrying a tree limb. Once I thought of the tree limb as a giant matchstick, I knew I could do the rest.”

Madam Bones blurted, “And you’re a first-year? You’ve been in this school only two months? Merlin.”

Bones walked up to the corpse of Quirrell; McGonagall followed. Madam Bones asked, “Whose face is this on the back of the professor’s head?”

“Voldemort’s,” Harry replied.

Madam Bones’s flinch was almost unnoticeable, but Harry saw it.

****

Ten minutes later

Snape had joined the other people already in the dungeons; but he was standing outside the crime-scene tape, not inside. Snape was using his Slytherin Head of House authority to shoo away the Slytherin gawkers. There was a steady stream of Slytherin gawkers.

Harry heard voices: “That girl, she’s the Muggle-born girl who’s friends with Greengrass, Malfoy and that lot—and she killed the troll. As a first-year!”

“There’s a face on the back of Quirrell’s head!”

“A face? Really?”

“I think it’s the Dark Lord!”

“Potter killed the Dark Lord again?”

A minor reason for all the gawkers was that Harry both had revealed and had opened the previously hidden tunnel. Harry noticed that even Snape sometimes stared at that unsuspected tunnel in amazement.

Madam Bones had erected some sort of Auror silencing charm, so that everyone outside the crime-scene tape could not hear anything that was said inside the tape.

****

Quirrell’s body had been turned over on his back, his left sleeve had been pushed up to his elbow and the Dark Mark on his left forearm was exposed—a Dark Mark that McGonagall declared had not been on Quirrell’s arm at the end of August.

Harry said, “It wasn’t Voldemort who put that Dark Mark wafer on Quirrell’s arm. I did, a half-hour ago. Two days ago, that wafer was on Professor Snape’s arm.”

McGonagall asked, “Mr Potter, you really did all these things?”

Hermione said, “All of what Harry said is true. I helped Harry research Parseltongue spells, I saw Harry remove the Dark Mark wafer from Professor Snape, and I saw Harry attach the wafer to Professor Quirrell.”

Madam Bones dropped her Auror silencing charm, then turned to face Snape. “Professor Snape, please show me your left forearm.” Bones’s voice was warmer than Harry normally would expect of the Director of the DMLE, when speaking to a crime-witness.

Snape pulled up his left sleeve, showing that his forearm had no Dark Mark; McGonagall choked. Snape said, “Director Bones, I officially show you my left forearm.” Which Harry interpreted to mean that unofficially, Amelia Bones already had seen Severus Snape’s left forearm at least once.

Meanwhile, the Slytherin gawkers all were staring at Snape’s Dark-Mark-less forearm, and they were gobsmacked.

Madam Bones said to Snape, “Please step inside the yellow tape.”

With Snape now part of the Auror silencing charm, Madam Bones asked him a few questions. Without knowing he was doing so, Snape confirmed Harry’s and Hermione’s version of events, from 18th September (when Harry had asked Snape if he wanted his Dark Mark removed), up through two days ago.

After Snape was asked his questions, he turned to leave. Madam Bones stepped up to him and murmured in a husky voice, “Severus, I’m delighted that you’re quit of that evil thing on your arm. Owl me when you can visit over tea.”

After Snape moved outside the crime-scene tape (and outside the Auror silencing charm), Madam Bones said to Harry, “Tell me how you killed Professor Quirrell. Did you use the Killing Curse?”

“No,” Harry replied, “I’ve read mentions of it, but I don’t know how to cast it.” Which was believable, coming from an eleven-year-old boy. But the truth was, Harry knew how to cast the Killing Curse; and furthermore, Harry had been sorely tempted in 1996 to cast AKs on both Antonin Dolohov and on Bellatrix Lestrange.

Meanwhile, Madam Bones was asking Harry, “So how did you kill the deceased? There isn’t a mark on him.”

“Once I sticking-charmed the Dark Mark to his arm, I put the tip of my wand against the Dark Mark and said,” hisss.

Hermione said, “Harry, that wasn’t English at the end, that was Parseltongue.”

Bones said, “You speak Parseltongue?”

Harry said, “Let me try again. I put the tip of my wand to the Dark Mark”—Harry looked at Hermione’s face, so he hopefully would be locked into speaking English—“and said, ‘To all receivers: Die!’ Since Quirrellmort is dead, I figure that now all of Voldy’s Death Eaters are dead too. Have you checked? I bet many ‘colourful characters’ in Azkaban are dead in their cells.”

Madam Bones and Headmistress McGonagall both stared at Harry in shock.

Then Madam Bones broke her silencing spell and yelled, “Severus! I need to use your Floo now!”

****

Later

Harry said to McGonagall and to Madam Bones, “No, I won’t tell you how I knew that Professor Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort and was bringing a troll into the castle.”

McGonagall’s lips pressed together, in anger or disapproval. “Mr Potter, if you fail to answer questions about your actions in school, you risk expulsion.”

Harry felt annoyed. He remembered all the times in his previous lifetime when McGonagall had not lifted a finger to help him.

Now Harry glanced at Madam Bones. “And I risk imprisonment in Azkaban too, right? After all, I, a mere halfblood, admit to being directly responsible for the deaths of at least one Auror, at least one Unspeakable, at least one Wizengamot seat-holder and many ‘fine, upstanding Pureblood citizens.’ ” Harry shrugged. “Bring it, ladies. But my secrets will stay secret.”

McGonagall looked at Madam Bones in panic. Clearly McGonagall had attempted to use her position and authority to push some first-year student to answer questions when the boy had balked, but instead he had flipped things on them. McGonagall was too proper to ever utter the word sh*tstorm (except when drunk), but she surely understood that if the Boy Who Lived were expelled and imprisoned after he had killed Voldemort (again!), life would become unpleasant for whoever had done these things to him.

Then Harry looked at McGonagall. “By the way, I rescued the Philosopher’s Stone and had my house-elf return it to Nicholas Flamel. Before you ask, I likewise refuse to tell you how I got past all the deadly traps without a scratch, moved to the room where the Stone was and got the Mirror of Erised to give me the Stone.”

“ ‘Deadly traps’?” Madam Bones repeated. “There are deadly traps at Hogwarts?”

Harry looked at her. “You truly don’t remember anything about deadly traps at Hogwarts? On the 5th, you and Professor Snape walked right up to the door to the forbidden corridor. I strongly urge you to go to Saint Mungo’s and to get an OPCC&I scan, because I suspect that Dumbledore Obliviated you on the 5th.”

Such an action, needless to say, would be highly illegal if done to an Auror or Healer—and would be perfectly in character for Dumbledore.

****

As soon as Harry could escape the questioning of the headmistress and the Director of the DMLE, Harry ordered Greyclay to take him to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Harry unlocked the door, took Fluffy out of stasis, then locked the door the regular way (meaning that anyone’s Alohom*ora would unlock the door).

That afternoon, after Madam Bones and Headmistress McGonagall questioned Harry, Hermione, Snape, Andi and Professor Babbling, the results were that Harry was not expelled, nor was he arrested. Madam Bones ruled the death of Quirinus Quirrell to be a “justifiable homicide,” then she sealed the details of the case.

Madam Bones met with the Director of Saint Mungo’s. After their meeting, the cause of death for anyone with the Dark Mark was listed as “Cause unknown.” Meanwhile, Madam Bones passed the word that if any Auror started a “murder investigation” to find the “murderer” of a Dark Marked “victim,” that Auror would be himself investigated—for corruption.

Madam Bones gave a deadline to the headmistress of 14th November for the professors to dismantle the deadly traps on the third floor. On 14th November, Madam Bones would take a walk through the castle, and if she found any “Greater Good” dangers, she would make arrests.

Chapter 21: Tom Gets his “Reward”

Chapter Text

Still Thursday, 31 October, mid-afternoon
In the dungeons outside the Slytherin common room

After the headmistress and Madam Bones told Harry and Hermione they could leave, Harry told Greyclay to put the Invisibility Cloak back in Harry’s trunk, before Greyclay elf-popped back to Potter Manor. Harry and Hermione, meanwhile, waved goodbye to Snape, then walked through the castle to the library.

Once in the library, Harry and Hermione sat down in their empty seats at the all-Houses firsties’ table.

“Where did you two go?” Neville whispered. “You’ve been gone forever.”

Harry noticed that the Slytherin firsties’ expressions were no different than those of the other children at the table. Harry realised, Nobody has told these Slytherins anything yet.

Hermione replied (lowly), “You saw Professor Flitwick come in here and tell me I had to leave because of something important? That wasn’t Professor Flitwick, that was Marietta Edgecombe, a Ravenclaw second-year. She and Cho Chang tricked me, then they each hit me.”

The firsties hissed and snarled, hearing this.

Harry said (lowly), “But then I rescued Hermione from the bully-girls. After this, Hermione and I fought Voldemort, who’s been hiding on the back of Quirrell’s head, and we fought a troll that Voldemort was trying to sneak into the castle. I killed Voldemort again, whilst Hermione killed the troll.”

The firsties table was dead silent. A passing seventh-year Gryffindor girl dropped the books she was carrying.

“Ri-i-ight,” said Neville, after a time.

Su Li smirked. “Okay, I can sort-of believe the first part, because Chang and Edgecombe are worthless bints. But the second part? Harry, you’re joking.” She laughed.

Hermione glared. “He’s telling the truth.”

Everyone else at the table was giving Harry sceptical looks.

Harry sighed. “Anyway, Neville! I have a question about my essay on ‘Plant-Watering Dos and Don’ts.’ ”

****

A few hours later, right before the Halloween Feast
At the all-Houses firsties’ end of the Ravenclaw table
The Great Hall

Blaise Zabini was waiting when the all-Houses firsties walked up to the table. He pulled the Slytherin firsties aside. Harry overheard Zabini say to them, “A troll and the Dark Lord were in the dungeons—thought you ought to know.”

Zabini and the other Slytherin firsties spoke together lowly as the rest of the all-Houses firsties took seats at the Ravenclaw table.

A few minutes later, when Zabini walked away and Millicent and that lot sat down, the Slytherin firsties all were giving Harry and Hermione strange looks.

Millicent said, “Harry, you told us about this in the library, and I thought you were joking.”

“What are you talking about?” Parvati asked.

****

Two minutes later

Harry had briefly recapped what he and Hermione had done. He had made sure to brag on Hermione.

Now Harry looked into the eyes of every one of the all-Houses firsties. “I’ll tell you lot the same thing I told McGonagall and Susan’s Aunt Amelia. How did I know that Voldemort was a wraith, not dead, and Voldemort was possessing Professor Quirrell? How did I know that Quirrell-slash-Voldemort was leading a troll into the castle, and when and where? I won’t answer those questions. Those are my secrets, and I’m not telling anybody. Except Hermione.”

“How does Hermione rate?” Parvati asked, her eyes glittering in anticipation of juicy gossip. “Is Hermione your girlfriend?”

Harry grinned. “Even better, she’s my soulmate. We kissed today, and we glowed.”

The firsties, especially the girls, looked amazed.

Tracey said, “Brilliant!”

Justin asked, “Glowing during a kiss, is this unusual?”

Su Li said, “I predict a pair of perambulators by 1999.”

****

Professor Flitwick, meanwhile, had been conferring with McGonagall at the High Table. Now Flitwick left his seat and walked towards the Ravenclaw table. Flitwick walked past the Ravenclaw seventh-years, then the Ravenclaw sixth-years. Seconds later, Flitwick was beside the Ravenclaw first-years—and he kept going.

Seconds later, Flitwick was standing by Harry’s chair. “Mr Potter, I wish a minute of your time.”

Harry stood up, smiling at Hermione in reassurance as he did so. To Flitwick, Harry said, “Lead on, professor.”

Flitwick led Harry about twenty feet away, then cast a silencing charm.

Flitwick said, “Mr Potter, earlier this afternoon, Miss Edgecombe and Miss Chang lured Miss Granger to an empty classroom and tied her up. Soon afterwards, you tied them up and sent them to my office, without notifying me they were there. This was the second time you have done this to them. But today, after you tied them up but before you sent them away, when they were helpless, you shot them each in the shoulder. Explain your actions.”

“Professor, when those two told you their tale of woe, how they peed their knickers in your office and it’s all my fault, did they tell you that when my house-elf and I elf-popped into that empty classroom, Cho and Marietta each were hitting Hermione? Hard enough to make her bleed?”

Clearly surprised Flitwick replied, “No, they didn’t tell me this.”

“Luckily for Hermione, I stopped things before those second-year bullies hurt her worse. If you’re looking for evidence, it’s gone—I cast Episkey to heal Hermione.” Flitwick’s eyebrows shot up, hearing this. “As for Chang and Edgecombe, I figured, ‘You make Hermione bleed, I’ll make you bleed.’ And this was before Hermione and I discovered that we’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates?”

“Soulmates. We lit up the classroom when we kissed.”

“Still, Mr Potter, you injured those two girls when they were helpless. I can’t overlook this.”

Harry shrugged. “McGonagall already has threatened me today with expulsion. Looks like you need to stand in the queue, professor.”

Then Harry crossed his arms. “Professor, the word amongst the students in this school is that bullies never are punished. Victims, however, are punished if they do anything more than suffer in silence. I figured that if I’m going to be hung for a lamb, I might as well be hung for a sheep. Those two already bullied Hermione once, and whatever wrist-slap punishment that you gave them then, didn’t turn them away from bothering Hermione today. I, however, am sure I’ve given those two something to think about. If they act up again, I’ll react again, and now they know this.”

After a few seconds of silence, Flitwick said, “I shall not punish you. And the punishment of those two, I shall make harsher.”

Flitwick cancelled the silencing charm, then rushed over to where Hermione was sitting. Flitwick spoke to her, she answered, then Flitwick walked away.

Flitwick stopped at the second-years part of the Ravenclaw table and spoke briefly—whilst scowling. Then he walked back to the High Table.

Soon all the professors at the High Table were engaged in a clearly intense discussion.

****

Minutes later, during the Halloween Feast

The owls descended from the ceiling, with mail for many people.

A barn owl delivered a letter from the Ministry of Magic, addressed to both Harry James Potter and to Hermione Jean Granger. The letter informed them that they were soul-bonded, and would be considered magically married as soon as Hermione began menstruation.

Harry and Hermione were discussing the letter—“Do you have a problem with Hedwig flying this to my parents?”—when they heard Draco gasp.

When Harry looked at Draco, Draco was holding a black envelope and clearly was trying not to cry. “My father is dead. He suddenly died!”

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table. He saw other black envelopes, and other upset children (Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Sam Flint and Marcus Flint).

Harry spoke gently: “Draco, I’m sure that at the same time I killed Voldemort, I killed all the marked Death Eaters. Your father was a marked Death Eater. He didn’t drop dead; I killed him. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that you’ve no father now.”

“But he was Imperiused into taking the Dark Mark!”

Harry again spoke gently: “No, Draco, it doesn’t work that way. Whatever your father told you, he took the Mark willingly.”

Justin asked, “What does ‘Imperiused’ mean?”

Hermione answered, “Hypnotised.”

Over at the Slytherin table, Marcus Flint said something to Sam, his younger brother. Then both Marcus Flint and Sam Flint leapt up and pointed their wands at Harry across the room. Marcus Flint yelled, “You murdered our father, Harry Potter!”

At the High Table, Snape stood up and rushed towards the Slytherin table.

Harry stood up from his seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table. He replied calmly, “I offer condolences to all students who have lost a father or mother today. I, more than anyone else in this room, know what this is like.”

“Such pretty words, Potter, for a murderer.”

Harry calmly replied, “But with my condolences spoken, Heir Flint, it is your father who is the murderer. Everyone here who received a black envelope today is the child of a murderous, lickspittle dupe of that bastard halfblood fraud, Tom Marvolo Riddle. So Heir Flint, save your righteous indignation for those who believe it.”

Snape said, “Mr Marcus Flint, Mr Samuel Flint, put your wands away.”

Marcus Flint shook his head and yelled, “I challenge Heir Potter to an honour duel to the death! If I kill him, I get his money and property by Right of Conquest!”

Harry fiercely wanted to blast this trollish teenager into hamburger. But Harry had to refuse to duel Flint—not because Harry was a coward who was afraid he would lose, but because Harry probably would win. He was, after all, in truth a seventeen-year-old with combat experience. But how could a supposed eleven-year-old with a Muggle-raised background, explain beating a fifteen-year-old in an anything-goes duel?

So now, instead of accepting Flint’s challenge to duel, Harry slowly drew his wand and pointed it straight up. “I refuse to fight an honour duel with Marcus Flint. I call upon Magic itself to judge a suitable punishment for me and for him. So mote it be.” Harry’s wand flashed.

Near to Harry, Daphne said, “Merlin, Heir Potter, are you sure you’re not in Gryffindor?”

****

Marcus Flint was two tables away from the all-Houses firsties, but Hermione clearly heard the death-challenge that the older Flint brother yelled at Harry.

Hermione was frightened for Harry.

Then Harry pointed his wand straight up and called upon Magic itself to judge him. The wand flashed; Magic had accepted the challenge.

Hermione now was frightened for Harry for an entirely different reason.

Then both Harry and his challenger rose up till their feet were ten feet above the floor. Each boy then disappeared within a cocoon of sparkles—sparkles which changed colour from one second to the next.

Then two voices boomed out—a man’s voice and a woman’s voice, speaking in unison: “Tom Marvolo Riddle, who was falsely named Lord Voldemort, was a blight upon wizardry. Harry James Potter has performed a great service in ridding the world of Riddle. Potter had to act nearly alone; only Severus Tobias Snape, Andromeda Black Tonks and his soulmate, Hermione Jean Granger, gave him aid. Every other adult wizard or witch in this boy’s life at best gave him no help, and at worst put obstacles in his path.”

The cocoon of sparkles round Harry disappeared, and he slowly dropped to the floor, by the end of the Ravenclaw table.

Marcus Flint’s cocoon disappeared, but he still was floating in the air and still was clutching his wand.

The unison-voices continued, “Marcus Salazar Flint, your judgement is severe. You wanted to pledge yourself in service to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the same as did your father. You want to murder humans you consider to be lesser beings, the same as your father did. Indeed, were you to win your so-called ‘honour duel’ against Potter, you planned afterwards to rape and to murder his first-generation soulmate. But make no mistake, your father and the other so-called ‘Death Eaters’ were murderous morons, and their deaths were justice. There is no honour in you refusing to accept this fact.”

Suddenly, Flint’s wand burst into flame in his hand; of course he dropped it. It took not quite a second for the wand to fall to the floor; by then, it was ash. Marcus Flint himself, meanwhile—

—zoomed sideways till he hit the wall. Hermione heard bones snap. The unison-voices said, “Marcus Salazar No-Name, today you forfeit your family name, your Heirship of House Flint and your magic. Go now and live amongst the Muggles whom you so despise, for now you and your line for ten generations all are Muggles.”

****

At the Slytherin table, the people there were staring in shock at the crumpled, groaning boy on the floor who had been, only minutes before, Captain of Slytherin’s Quidditch team. Snape had rushed over to Marcus No-Name and was conjuring a stretcher for him.

But the voices of Magic had more to say: “Samuel Abraxas Flint, notice that your older brother has lost his Heir Flint ring but you have not gained it. Who has it? Harry James Potter has it, though he did not ask for it. Vincent Segundus Crabbe, Gregory Gamaliel Goyle, Draco Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Cobracus Nott and Pansy Juliette Parkinson, you also have lost your Heir rings to Harry Potter.

“Why has Magic done this? Your fathers, and other Heads of House besides, pledged their obedience to Tom Marvolo Riddle. They gave him whatever money he demanded, whenever he demanded it. They let him use their property, and they accepted his punishment. Your fathers let Riddle brand them like cattle. In short, your fathers who were Heads of House submitted themselves to Tom Riddle as slaves, and so they made your Houses become Tom Riddle’s property. Tom Riddle’s property has become Harry James Potter’s property, by Right of Conquest. Harry James Potter is Heir Gaunt, Heir Slytherin, Heir Crabbe, Heir Flint, Heir Goyle, Heir Malfoy, Heir Nott, Heir Parkinson and more. So Magic declares.”

In the silence of the entire Great Hall, Draco asked in a shaky voice, “Is it true, Heir Potter, that now you have my ring? It’s gone from my hand.”

Harry commanded the Heir Malfoy ring to appear on his hand. It appeared. Harry invisibled that ring, then tried to show the Crabbe, Flint, Goyle, Nott and Parkinson rings. They likewise appeared on Harry’s hand when he called them.

Harry replied, “Draco, it seems I’m Heir Malfoy now.”

Harry looked across the Great Hall at Snape and said, “I’m at a loss for words. I wasn’t expecting this.”

****

After dinner
In the Ravenclaw common room

Harry was sitting on a settee with Hermione. Hermione was leaning against Harry as she wrote a letter to her parents that tried to explain that A, she and Harry were soul-bonded; B, as soon as Hermione’s baby-factory opened for business, she and Harry would become magically married; but C, her parents should not get excited, because she still planned on a church wedding in June 1998. At the moment, Hermione was leaning towards a colour-combination of lilac and periwinkle for the wedding breakfast (wedding reception).

Whilst Hermione wrote her letter, Harry was staring into space.

Harry had achieved the main task that he had come back in time for: He had killed Voldemort and all the Death Eaters. He had not killed the Death Eaters by any of the three ways that had been spelled out in his seventeen pages of notes and plans, but he had indeed killed them all—whilst finding a way to keep Snape from dying. Harry felt pleased with himself.

Both Harry’s father and Salazar Slytherin, during the planning session, had mentioned that after Harry killed Voldemort, Harry could claim the Headship of House Gaunt and of House Slytherin by Right of Conquest; and both James Potter and founder Slytherin had urged Harry to make these claims.

Fine. Tonight or maybe tomorrow, Harry had planned to say the words I claim House Gaunt and House Slytherin by Right of Conquest.

But today, Magic had not waited for Harry to claim those two Houses before giving them to him; and furthermore, Magic had given Harry sixteen other Houses by Right of Conquest.

Wow. Harry had not expected anything like this; his seventeen pages mentioned no possibility of this.

A little over three months ago, Harry was living in a cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley house. Now Harry was the closest thing to a duke that Wizarding Britain had.

****

The next morning
Friday, 1st November

After Charms, Harry said to Hermione, “Come with me and I’ll show you the most amazing thing.”

Harry led Hermione to the seventh floor, to a certain tapestry of a wizard (Barnabas the Barmy) trying to teach trolls to dance ballet.

Harry said, “Okay, walk back and forth three times in front of this tapestry, whilst thinking over and over, ‘I want a room that looks exactly like my bedroom back in Crawley.’ ”

Hermione gave a shrug, then obeyed. Ten seconds later, Hermione stopped pacing, gasped and stared when a blue door appeared in the previously blank wall opposite the tapestry. “That’s my bedroom door!” she blurted. “It’s even periwinkle blue like my door.”

Hermione walked over to the door, opened it, and gasped when she walked into the room.

Harry walked in behind her. He looked about and said, “I’m not surprised that you have a poster of Jane Austen on your bedroom wall.”

“Explain how I’m seeing this,” she said. “It’s my bedroom, down to the tiniest detail.”

Harry explained that this was the Room of Requirement, and demonstrated its abilities. He took Hermione’s hand and pulled her by the door; then he changed her bedroom into the Ravenclaw common room, the other three common rooms, then back to the Ravenclaw common room—but coloured purple and silver.

Then Harry told Hermione the rules: anything that the Room conjured for her would disappear when she carried it out of the room; and whilst she theoretically could conjure food and water in the room, they had no nutritional value, so she should instead ask a house-elf to bring food from the Hogwarts kitchens.

Hermione said, “I’m still stuck on ‘Here in the ROR, you can conjure a copy of any book in the world, magical or Muggle.’ This is truly true?”

Harry grinned at her. “It is.”

Hermione used both hands to grab the front of Harry’s shirt, yanked him towards her and snogged him mightily.

****

Still in the Room of Requirement

Harry said, “When Voldemort’s body was destroyed on Halloween night in 1981, everyone naturally presumed he’d died, though no corpse was found. But actually, he didn’t die, he got turned into a wraith—because he’d made horcruxes.”

Harry explained about horcruxes; Hermione was horrified.

Then Harry told Hermione that Voldemort had intentionally made five horcruxes by 1981, that Harry was the unintentional sixth horcrux, and that Voldemort had made a seventh horcrux in 1994.

Harry then said, “When I was sent back in time to 23rd July, I arrived with no horcrux in my scar. Three other horcruxes, I’ve destroyed because I knew exactly where they were. The 1994 horcrux hasn’t been made yet. This leaves only two.”

Hermione asked, “So now you’re going to hunt them?”

“Well, one of them, I don’t need to hunt at all. Remember The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and the story of the three brothers meeting Death? The story, it turns out, is true. The three objects are known together as the Deathly Hallows. Dumbledore’s high-powered wand is one of the Deathly Hallows, the Potter-family Invisibility Cloak is the second, and something called the Resurrection Stone is the third. Alas, evil Voldemort attached a horcrux to the Resurrection Stone; but Thanatos told me that the horcrux would be destroyed when I summon the Stone. Here goes.”

Harry drew his wand and said, “By the authority granted to me by Thanatos, I summon the Resurrection Stone, which is part of the Head of House Gaunt ring, and I summon the Elder Wand.”

The Gaunt ring and the Elder Wand appeared on a table in the purple-and-silver Ravenclaw common room. Immediately a black mist rose from the Resurrection Stone. The black mist made a human scream of agony, then disappeared.

“One horcrux left to go,” Harry said.

Thanatos had promised Harry that picking up the Resurrection Stone would remove all the evil magic attached to it. Harry had been feeling a compulsion to put the Gaunt ring on; but when he picked up the ring (but did not put it on any finger), the compulsion stopped. Harry felt no evil curse, and his hand looked no different after he picked up the ring, though this same ring had withered Dumbledore’s hand quickly in the previous lifetime.

After Harry picked up the Gaunt ring, he then called for Greyclay. Harry ordered Greyclay to put the Gaunt ring and the Elder Wand in Harry’s school trunk.

****

Harry said to Hermione, “The last horcrux is in Malfoy Manor. In the plans that my advisors and I made, we decided to try and buy the horcruxed item, which is a diary that once belonged to Tom Riddle, from Narcissa Malfoy. I also was going to buy from Narcissa a house-elf named Dobby, who was my friend in my previous lifetime. But now that Magic has made me underage Head of House Malfoy, I can carry out a simpler plan.”

Harry said, “I call House Malfoy house-elf Dobby.”

Pop. Dobby appeared. His tea-towel clothing was dirty and torn, and his green-tinged skin had bright-green bruises on his arms, legs and face.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Hermione said.

Meanwhile, Dobby was looking at Harry in confusion. “You are Dobby’s master, but Dobby has never seen Master before. Who is Master?”

Harry said, “I’m Harry James Potter—”

Dobby gasped.

“—and this is my soulmate and future wife, Hermione Granger.”

Dobby was bouncing with excitement. “Dobby has heard of brilliant master, Harry Potter! Dobby is glad to serve Master Harry Potter and Miss Herminny Grangey! Dobby will be a gooder than good elf for youse!”

Harry said, “Before we do anything else, let me give you some of my magic so that you can heal yourself.” Just as Harry had done with the Potter elves after he first had met them, Harry pushed magic from his magical core into Dobby until the house-elf’s bruises began to fade.

Next, Harry said, “Dobby, I have an important task for you. Somewhere in Malfoy Manor is a book with a black-leather cover, with ‘T M Riddle’ stamped on the front. If you get close to it, it feels evil. The book may be in a hidden place.”

“Dobby knows the book! And yes, it feels evil.”

“I want you to go to Malfoy Manor, transfigure some rubbish into a lead box, levitate the book into the box, then shut the box. Don’t touch the book! When you’ve put the book in the box and shut the box, bring the box to me.”

Pop—Dobby vanished.

Seconds later: Pop. Dobby returned with a lead box at his feet that was about the size of a shoebox.

****

Harry reconfigured the Room of Requirement to be the same as two months ago, when Harry had used Salazar Slytherin’s ritual to destroy the horcruxes in Ravenclaw’s diadem and in Slytherin’s locket, without destroying the vessels themselves. Now Harry repeated Slytherin’s ritual, with Hermione and Dobby assisting. The horcrux was removed from Tom Riddle’s diary and was destroyed, without damaging the diary.

Harry immediately vanished the now-harmless diary.

Harry looked at Hermione and said, “Now all of Riddle’s horcruxes are destroyed, and his body is destroyed. ‘Lord’ Voldemort, a.k.a Tom Marvolo Riddle, is finally dead.”

****

Meanwhile, in a timeless place

Tom Riddle was confused.

Some unknown amount of time ago, he had been leading the Confundused troll through the dungeons that were outside the Slytherin common room. He had been certain that there had been nobody else nearby, and he had been especially sure that there had been no Disillusioned person nearby.

But then he had heard the sound of a wand firing a Stunner—though the Stupefy incantation itself had not been spoken.

Fine, so he had been Stunned. When he had been revived, he was sitting in a chair in front of a big desk. On the desk were two heads, back to back; of the head whose face he could see, the lower face had flesh on it, but the nose-triangle, the eye sockets and the braincase all were bare bone.

Behind the desk sat a dark-skinned man with his head shaved bald, and he was wearing leather armour. Beyond the man, a wooden shield, well used, had been hung on the wall, along with a bronze sword. Next to those, a cowled black robe hung from a peg. Leaning against a corner of the room was a sharp, steel scythe? Had a farmer Stunned him?

Where am I? Tom wondered. What’s going on? Why was I brought here? Did this man behind the desk bring me here, or does he have minions serving him?

Tom Riddle demanded, “Are you who Stunned me?” The head on the desk that was facing the man behind the desk, spoke foreign words with Tom’s voice. At the same time, Tom’s right hand flew to the wand-holder on his left forearm, so that he could Crucio this fool—

—except that his wand was not where it was supposed to be.

Seize my wand, will you? Tom thought. He did a wandless Summoning charm: “Accio my wand!”

But his wand did not come to him.

The man behind the desk said (in translation), “Stop, Tom Marvolo Riddle, you are only wasting my time. You’ve heard the expression, ‘You can’t take it with you’? It’s true. You’re dead and you’re here, but your two wands are not here.”

“I, dead? You lie! Where is ‘here’? Who are you? What are your plans for me?”

“Is there a problem,” a serene female voice asked, “with this client, sir?”

Tom had not heard the woman approach. Completely surprised, Tom spun about in his chair to look at her. Then his surprise doubled.

The woman was wearing a white robe, and she had white wings coming out of her back. The wings were big enough that their wing-tips almost brushed the floor. Tom recognised the form as an angel, from storybooks he had read at the orphanage. Tom wondered why, if a witch were going to put a glamour on herself, she would choose to be seen as an angel.

“No, Antonia, all is well,” replied the man behind the desk. “But stay close; this one might yet try to cause problems.”

Tom, meanwhile, stared into the eyes of the man behind the desk and whispered, “Legilimens.” Tom knew his wandless Legilimency was weak, but he was one of the few wizards who could cast wandless Legilimency at all. Tom tried to discover what the man behind the desk was thinking—

—and heard nothing. It was as if he were a Muggle trying to cast the spell.

Meanwhile, the man behind the desk was glaring at Tom. “Who am I? You may call me Thanatos. Or”—now his laugh was cruel—“Le Mort. Don’t try to fly from me; you won’t escape.”

“You’re a liar!” Tom yelled, blustering to cover his fear. “And I’m leaving!” He jumped up, strode two steps—

—and was yanked backwards into the chair. Antonia the “angel” said serenely, “If you try to leave again, I’ll use chains.”

Thanatos said, “Now to business, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Normally a soul’s file is judged by a Grim Reaper, one of my subordinates; and normally it is that soul’s Grim Reaper who sends the soul to either Department 1 or Department 2. I interview a soul only when the soul is half good and half evil, when the soul is saintly, when the soul is black evil or when the soul has been the subject of a prophecy. Congratulations, you’re in two of the four categories.”

Tom was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

Thanatos continued, “A Grim Reaper’s job is to review the soul’s file and to determine whether the soul’s good deeds outweigh the soul’s bad deeds. We can skip that part, since your good-deeds list is a blank sheet. No, Riddle, I have a special judgement planned for you. Antonia, suit up.”

Seconds later, Thanatos said to Tom, “I hope you enjoy oil-painting or violin music. One of your new neighbours is an inept oil-painter, whilst another is an inept fiddler. Antonia is ready for you now. Rise, Tom Marvolo Riddle, and receive your ‘reward.’ ”

Quite involuntarily, Tom stood up and turned to face Antonia the “angel.”

Back when Tom had used Fiendfyre to burn down Wool’s Orphanage, he had watched the results. Some of the Muggle firefighters who had gone into the building had been dressed in head-to-toe padded, shiny suits that had a brown, rectangular visor in front of their eyes. Now Antonia was wearing a similar outfit—even her wings were enclosed in padded, shiny cloth.

Thanatos laughed cruelly. “An angel, to do his or her job, must be able to fly a soul into the fires of Hell and to emerge unscathed. But even an angel needs protective clothing to fly where you’re going. Goodbye, ‘Flight-from-Death.’ ”

****

Back at the Room of Requirement in Hogwarts

After Harry removed the horcrux from Tom Riddle’s diary, Harry ordered Dobby to elf-pop him and Hermione to the Hall of Prophecies. But they quickly found out that the Department of Mysteries had wards on it, so what the three actually did was to elf-pop to the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, then to walk a bit.

Soon the three arrived at the Hall of Prophecies and Harry talked to an Unspeakable. Soon afterwards, Dobby floated Harry up so that Harry could grab the Prophecy’s glass ball and remove it from its stand. The glass globe looked like it was filled with frozen black smoke.

Once Harry was back on the ground, he played the Prophecy for Hermione, Dobby and their Unspeakable escort. Harry asked the Unspeakable, “Do you officially agree that this prophecy is fulfilled?”

The Unspeakable nodded his/her head. “The prophecy is fulfilled. Since you clearly are alive, this means that You-Know-Who is dead.”

“Forever,” Hermione said.

Harry grinned at the Unspeakable. “Pass the word about: Go have a party.”

Then Harry picked up the glass globe and looked at Dobby. “Let’s go pay Madam Bones a visit.” Pop.

The two children and one house-elf appeared outside the office of Madam Bones. She was not in, so Harry handed the glass globe to the receptionist. “Tell Madam Bones that Harry Potter stopped by, this is the genuine Prophecy and it’s fulfilled. Voldemort is officially dead.”

****

That afternoon, after afternoon classes
At Hogwarts

Harry and Hermione stopped off at the library. He told their all-Houses friends, “Hermione and I will miss some or all of our library time before dinner. I’ve some things to do, and I want Hermione there with me.”

After Harry and Hermione walked out of the library, Harry got the Spirit of Hogwarts to give him directions to the room under the kitchens where the Master Wardstone was buried.

Once Harry and Hermione were in the wardstone room, Harry and the Spirit went to work, restoring the wards at Hogwarts to what they once were—meaning, what they should have been. No more would Dark Lords, Death Eaters, anyone with evil intent, animagi in animal form and Polyjuiced people be able to stroll into the castle.

The Spirit of Hogwarts knew much about wards, but had no authority to change the castle’s wards. Harry had the authority to change the wards, but did not know how. Together Harry and the Spirit made a good team, whilst Hermione watched and listened to them work, her face aglow.

A ward against Dark Magic, a ward against evil intent, a ward against Disillusioned persons or persons under an (ordinary) invisibility cloak, and a ward against an animagus in animal form—all these wards were activated again. Vampires, trolls, giants and Dementors were blocked from the castle.

After Harry restored the wards, he and Hermione were elf-popped to the (currently empty) DADA classroom.

Harry used the founders’ knowledge from the planning session to find the tiny runes that had been carved into the classroom-door doorjamb. These runes, carved by Tom Riddle, had put a curse on the DADA teaching position. Now Harry used a conjured knife to scratch out those runes.

Then Harry ordered the Spirit of Hogwarts to tell Headmistress McGonagall, “The wards have been restored to what they once were, before Headmaster Dumbledore cancelled some of the wards. Also, the curse on the DADA teaching position has been lifted.” Harry ordered the Spirit of Hogwarts not to tell McGonagall how these two actions had been performed, or by whom.

****

After Harry and Hermione had found the Prophecy orb, had confirmed that the Prophecy had been fulfilled, had passed the Prophecy orb to Madam Bones, had restored the Hogwarts wards and had ended the DADA curse, Harry presumed that they would head back to the library to study with the other all-Houses firsties.

Not so. Hermione said, “Harry, I need to do something important. Follow me.”

Hermione led Harry out of the castle to the courtyard. To be more specific, Hermione led Harry to the part of the courtyard that had five burial slabs and headstones.

Harry blurted, “Hogwarts has its own cemetery?”

Hermione said, “This is where they buried students and professors who died at school, who had no family to claim their bodies for burial elsewhere.”

“Makes sense,” Harry said. He saw that three of the five headstones gave the deceased’s surname as “No-Name.”

Hermione added, “I read about this in—”

“Hogwarts: A History,” Harry said, grinning. Then his smile vanished. “Hermione, why are we here? We don’t know any of these people.”

Instead of replying, Hermione asked, “Have you given a thought to the relationship you and I will have, in the future?”

“Not really, no.”

“Outwardly, you and I are the same age. But I’m twelve; and except for being bullied by Muggle girls and witches, and killing a troll, my life has been easy. You’re seventeen, you’ve fought Voldemort five times in your other life, you tell me you’ve watched me almost die twice and you’ve fought in a war.”

“All right, we’re different ages and we’ve had quite different experiences, but I still want to marry you someday.”

“But what kind of marriage can we have? I can’t ever hope to be your girlfriend, Harry; the best I can hope for is to be your adorable kid sister. But I don’t want to be your kid sister!”

“Hermione, this is a problem, I agree, but I have no idea how to fix it. And how does this explain your bringing me out to the Hogwarts graveyard?”

“Thanatos sent your memories back in time; and I figure Thanatos hangs out where dead bones are. I’m hoping he can put 1998-Hermione’s memories into my head.”

“This is why we’re here? You want to speak to Thanatos?” Harry asked, shocked.

“Hermione Jean Granger, born 1979,” said a baritone voice. “Why do you call for me? Your appointed hour is not for years yet.”

Now standing on one of the burial slabs was a man’s skeleton, dressed in a cowled black robe. Two fleshless hands were gripping the wooden handle of a scythe that had a long, sharp steel blade.

Harry had seen this same scythe in Thanatos’s office. Harry thought, In Thanatos’s office, this scythe looked harmless. It doesn’t look harmless now.

Chapter 22: Older Hermione, Doomed

Chapter Text

Still Friday, 1st November, afternoon
Still at the Hogwarts courtyard cemetery

Thanatos said to Hermione, “Usually when a mortal calls for me, it’s either to ask me to kill them painlessly, or to ask me to bring someone else back to life.”

Hermione replied, “No, I’m asking for neither of those.”

Hermione took a deep breath and continued, “Harry and I are soulmates; but we can never be equal. He is seventeen in his head, veteran of a war, he fought Voldemort, he fought Death Eaters—he died! And what am I? A twelve-year-old girl whose worst moments were being bullied in primary school and by two witches. Oh, I also killed a troll with magic—but that was a sneak attack; I didn’t feel in danger.”

Thanatos said, “You see Harry as a man in a boy’s body, whilst you see yourself as a child.”

“Yes. What I’m asking of you, Thanatos sir: Somehow you give me the memories of Harry’s Hermione, the eighteen-year-old me who fought alongside Harry and watched him be killed by Voldemort. Without my older self’s memories, I’ll always be Harry’s cherished younger sister, not his True Love.”

Harry said, “One problem with this, ’Mione: You were potioned nonstop beginning the summer after fourth year. Between June 1996 and May 1998, your memories of books, events and most people will be good, but your remembered attitudes towards some people will be wrong. Especially towards Ron Weasley.”

Hermione was confused. “Bilious? What attitude did I have towards Bilious?”

Harry looked down. The boy whom Hermione had known always to be bursting with confidence, now had slumped shoulders and showed no confidence at all. “Beginning the summer of 1996, you wanted to marry Ron and to have his babies. And if I hadn’t died, I would’ve let you.”

“I don’t understand. Even with you telling me I was potioned, I don’t understand. How could I want to marry Bilious when you and I were soulmates? How could I kiss you, then want to kiss him?”

“The thing is, in that life, you and I never kissed. We never knew we were soulmates. I loved you, but I never realised I was in love with you. And Dumbledore, Molly, Ron and Ginny made sure that my realisation never happened; or that if I did realise what I felt about you, I’d never speak up. By May of 1998, the message had been pounded into my head, again and again: I didn’t deserve any good thing I wanted, and I especially didn’t deserve any good thing that my ‘best mate’ also wanted.”

Right now, Harry looked miserable, and completely lacking in confidence. Hermione hugged him, but his mood did not improve.

Thanatos explained to Hermione, “You two have something quite rare and quite beautiful—it’s like seeing a cut diamond the size of your palm. But the four evil people that Harry James Potter mentioned, in his previous lifetime, those four people destroyed this rare and beautiful thing. They chopped up the giant diamond to make diamond dust for phonograph needles. Had Harry not died, the evildoers’ plan was for each of you to become the devoted spouse of a loathsome redhead.”

Then Thanatos said to Hermione, “I cannot give you what you ask—”

Harry said, “Hermione fiercely wants this. Let me sweeten the deal. I’ll return the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand to you if it means you copying those memories to Hermione.”

The male skeleton who was holding the scythe, threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, sweet irony! The one magical person ever to become Master of Death is someone who never sought the post. Hermione Jean Granger, treasure this man. Harry James Potter, your parents died partly because Albus Dumbledore tricked your father into ‘loaning’ him the Invisibility Cloak, because Albus Dumbledore was so keen to collect the three Deathly Hallows. Yet you would give away the other two Hallows without my even asking—amazing!”

Harry shrugged. “The other two Hallows each are dangerous to a man’s soul. Wizardkind is better off without them. Anyway, do we have a deal?”

“You misunderstand me, Harry James Potter. I say that I cannot do what your soulmate wants, not because I’m unwilling, but because I lack those powers. I see a possible way to give Hermione Granger what she asks, but I cannot guarantee success. Do you still offer me two of the three Deathly Hallows?”

“Yes, take them.”

Greyclay was summoned, then was sent off to fetch the Gaunt ring, which had the Resurrection Stone mounted on it, and to fetch the Elder Wand. As soon as these two items were handed to Thanatos, they disappeared. Greyclay was sent home.

Harry and Hermione looked at Thanatos expectantly.

****

One second later

Thanatos spoke in a formal voice: “I call for Chrone,” pronounced KROA-nay.

A woman soundlessly appeared next to Thanatos. She was wearing a robe, and a pulled-up cowl rested on her head. In her left hand she held a big hourglass; it was a foot and a half tall.

As Hermione watched, the woman’s robe and cowl changed colour: white when she appeared, shifting to pink, then green, then yellow. The yellow clothing shifted to white, and the cycle repeated, again and again.

When Chrone appeared, she had the face and hands of a bride: smooth and unmarked skin on her hands, smooth skin on her face and red hair coloured like the Weasley Twins’ hair. Then Chrone swiftly aged: wrinkles appeared, then more wrinkles appeared, as the skin on her face sagged. Her skin turned pale, whilst liver spots appeared on her hands. Red hairs became grey—only a few grey hairs at first, then more and more. At the end, Chrone was a crone. But then the process reversed: liver spots disappeared one by one, wrinkles disappeared, skin tightened up and became ruddier and smoother, whilst grey hairs became red. About a minute after Chrone looked like a crone, she looked like a bride. Then Chrone began to age again.

Meanwhile, Thanatos and Chrone were conversing; Hermione could not begin to guess what language they were speaking.

Eventually Chrone looked at Hermione and said, “Thanatos and I together can achieve what you seek.”

As Hermione sighed in relief, Chrone said to Harry, “Come here, time-traveller, and lay your hand on top of the hourglass.”

When Harry did so, a horizontal blue circle surrounded Thanatos and Chrone, and Harry and Hermione.

Then the sun in the sky began to move eastward.

The sun’s movement quickly accelerated, till within a minute (speaking subjectively), the sun was racing across the sky from west to east, and nights lasted less than a minute.

Suddenly the sun’s movement slowed. When the sun stopped moving, it was low in the eastern sky.

Chrone announced, “Now the date is 23rd July, 1991, and the time is 6:35 a.m.—this is the beginning of this timeline.”

The blue circle that surrounded the four beings, changed colour to purple. Chrone explained, “I have changed timelines—this is the timeline that the time-traveller lived through in his previous lifetime.”

Hermione asked, “His ‘previous’ lifetime, not his ‘other’ lifetime?”

Thanatos answered, “Harry Potter has died six times previously. He remembers only his sixth lifetime.”

Chrone said, “Time-traveller, please remove your hand from the hourglass. Thanatos, please place your hand on the hourglass.”

Now the sun moved from east to west, faster and faster. Soon the sun was moving so quickly that it was an east-west yellow, bright band across the sky—a yellow, bright band that moved northward and southward. When the yellow band was most northward, Hermione saw green grass and the trees were full of green leaves. When the yellow band was most southward, the trees were bare and snow covered the ground.

Not quite seven times did the bright band cycle between moving northward and moving southward, then the sun’s movement slowed. After a two-minute night, the sun slowly rose; then the sun stopped before it even had cleared the eastern horizon.

Chrone announced, “The date is 2nd May 1998. The time is 37.83659 seconds after 5:26 a.m.”

Harry said, “This looks familiar.”

Hermione had been so fascinated by the movement of the sun that she had paid no attention to her surroundings. When she looked about, she gasped in horror.

Surrounding the four beings within their purple circle were rubble and corpses. Some of the corpses were children in Hogwarts robes. When Hermione turned about to look at the castle, she saw that the wall facing her had cracks in the wall and showed scorch marks, whilst chunks of the wall were missing.

Yet for all the destruction that Hermione was seeing, she realised that she was hearing no sound at all. She felt no wind.

Chrone asked Hermione, “Are you ready to meet your older self?”

Hermione nodded, too shocked by ruined Hogwarts to speak.

The four beings within the purple circle did not rise up; rather, they stayed in place but the ground dropped from beneath their feet. The four did not fly across the ground; rather, the ground moved underneath them, like a treadmill belt. Then the ground underneath their feet rotated itself. After all this, the ground stopped moving and rose up to meet their feet.

The ground between the Quidditch pitch and the castle had become a battleground.

Two feet outside the purple circle stood Older Hermione, age eighteen. Statue-still Older Hermione was facing the four beings inside the purple circle, but her eyes were looking at something in the distance. Older Hermione was pointing her wand at whomever she was looking at.

****

Young Hermione looked about, and was horrified. A giant snake, time-frozen, was biting screaming Professor Vector. On the ground, near a crater, a young’s man’s hand held a ruby-jewelled sword. Ten feet away lay Neville’s head; his neck ended in red hamburger.

Hagrid lay on the ground; the right side of his head, and his right shoulder, had been cut away. Hagrid’s arms were wrapped around a boy who looked like young Hermione’s soulmate—and yet he did not. Dead Harry Potter was older—he had beard-stubble—and had a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead and wore round glasses. Young Hermione was reminded of the covers of those Harry Potter books written by Roy Locke. Older Harry’s corpse was unmarked, so young Hermione felt he should be breathing—but he did not breathe, and his eyes stared blankly. Near the corpses of Hagrid and Older Harry, a strip of blackened grass was covered with time-frozen flames.

Bilious’s limp body lay crumpled at Older Hermione’s feet.

Near Older Hermione, a girl of about seventeen with long blond hair and grey eyes, whom young Hermione did not recognise, was dueling a Death Eater. Oddly, the girl’s expression was serene.

Young Hermione turned to look where Older Hermione was looking. Young Hermione saw twenty feet away, a barefoot man wearing black robes. He had no hair, he had black slits in his face instead of a nose, and his eyes were scarlet red. Older Hermione’s blue spell was being dispersed by an invisible shield in front of the man; but not waiting, he was shooting a time-frozen green spell back at Older Hermione.

“Who is that?” young Hermione asked alive Harry.

“That is ‘Lord’ Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was resurrected not quite three years ago.”

“Green means a death-spell, right? So he’s about to kill my older self.”

Harry said, “It won’t be Voldy who kills you. Look.”

Harry pointed at a time-frozen Death Eater, whose wand was pointed at Older Hermione. Three feet away from Older Hermione, a green streak floated, time-frozen, in the air. Older Hermione was so focussed on fighting Voldemort that she seemed unaware of this more immediate danger.

Harry commented, “Older you has about half a second more to live, then she’s dead, like everyone here but Luna.”

Thanatos said, “Indeed. Normally I don’t have authority over a living person; but I’ve authority over your older self because she’s doomed to die. All death is a waste, so I’m glad that her death won’t be a waste. Are you ready to receive her memories?”

Young Hermione nodded eagerly.

Thanatos laid his scythe on the ground, within the purple circle. Then one fleshless hand reached over and touched the forehead of Older Hermione, whilst the other hand (fleshless and cold) touched young Hermione’s forehead.

Memories poured into young Hermione’s brain, from a girl who was almost the same as Hermione herself, but not quite. Minutes passed, as young Hermione was firehosed with Older Hermione’s memories.

Some unknown time after the memory-transfer began, young Hermione remembered seeing Harry drop dead after being hit by Voldemort’s Avada Kedavra spell, seconds before dawn today. Soon afterwards, young Hermione fainted.

****

Harry caught suddenly limp Hermione and lowered her to the ground within the purple circle, as Thanatos picked up his scythe.

Harry looked at Thanatos and Chrone. “Do either of you know the immediate future? Just how badly did the Light lose here?”

Thanatos replied, “ ‘Flight-from-Death’ is nine minutes and three seconds from formal victory, when Minerva McGonagall surrenders. However, fourteen seconds after Minerva McGonagall’s surrender, this entire battlefield, including Voldemort, his horcruxed snake and Hogwarts Castle, all will be vaporised by a Royal Air Force tactical nuclear missile. The missile will be launched because Queen Elizabeth declared the Treaty of Magical Separation to be broken. Marked Death Eaters, including Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge, either will die on the battlefield when they are nuked, or will die where they stand when Voldemort is nuked. The British Army will seize the Ministry of Magic. In the weeks after this, unmarked Death Eaters will be tracked down and will be burnt at the stake. Wizarding Britain will stop being separate from nonmagical Britain, and dark-magic wizards will be made to suffer.”

Harry said, “And all this death and suffering is my fault.”

****

Four hours later (subjectively) on the time-frozen battlefield

No time had passed on the time-frozen battlefield; Older Hermione still was about a half-second from being hit by that Death Eater’s Killing Curse whilst she duelled Voldemort.

Young Hermione had been lying limp in Harry’s arms; now she gasped and sat up. She whirled around and stared into Harry’s face. “Harry! You’re alive! But young? Where’s your scar? Wait...”

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Hermione paused, frowning. “Confused. I met you in Flourish and Blotts, and I met you on the firstie train. The first thing I did after I met you was to repair your glasses—but you’ve never worn glasses for as long as I’ve known you. And when I met you, Ron Weasley was already your friend—aggh, that Ronald!”

Harry blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Hermione was furious. “When we get back, Ron Weasley—Bilious—will get pranked within an inch of his life! After I was potioned, about once a week he’d feel up my boobs! And I let him!”

Then Hermione glanced over at time-frozen Older Hermione. “At least I’ll have a nice set when I’m older. I’ve worried about that.”

Chrone said, “It’s time for us to leave.”

Harry turned to face Older Hermione. “Goodbye, my love. I’m sorry that I never knew my heart well enough to call you this before I died.”

****

Chrone did her inertia-less travel trick and carried herself, Thanatos, Harry and Hermione back to the courtyard cemetery.

Chrone travelled back in time, to 6:35 a.m. on 23 July 1991, then the purple circle round the four beings turned blue. Meaning, Chrone and the other three were back on the new timeline.

More slowly, Chrone moved forward in time, to the afternoon of 1st November 1991. Specifically, so Chrone explained, “I’ve brought us to a thousandth of a second after we began time-travel. No observers will notice that we four actually disappeared from here, when it was only for a thousandth of a second.”

****

Minutes later, back in the castle

After the two double-memories children spoke their thanks and goodbyes to Thanatos and to Chrone, Hermione all but dragged Harry through the castle and up the stairs to the Room of Requirement.

Once the door was shut, Hermione put her arms around Harry’s neck. “You’ve been blaming yourself for Dolohov hurting me at the Department of Mysteries, haven’t you?”

“Oh god, Hermione, I’m so sorry! I was so stupid—”

“Harry,” Hermione said gently, “be quiet.”

Then she snogged Harry like she meant it. Because she did—she meant all the kisses, every one.

When Hermione broke the last kiss, she said, “In case I wasn’t clear, Harry: I forgive you, because I love you.”

Chapter 23: Epilogue, Part 1

Chapter Text

Friday, 1st November, evening

A distracted physician is a deadly danger to his patients. It was fortunate that a distracted dentist was not a deadly danger to patients, because both Dr Daniel Granger and Dr Emma Granger had been distracted all day.

Only three times in twelve years had Hermione been caught lying to her parents; much more often, the Grangers’ child had been painfully honest. Now, both parents wished that yesterday’s letter home had been merely a tall tale or a prank.

Hermione, so she had written, had killed a mountain troll—a twelve-foot-tall beast in human form, who was magically resistant, stupid and mean. Hermione knew only three spells, but she had combined two of them to kill the troll. Harry meanwhile had killed Voldemort, the evil wizard who had killed both of Harry’s parents.

This news was upsetting enough. But what really made the dental Grangers’ brains slow to half-speed had been the other bit of news: Harry and Hermione had kissed, their kiss had formed a soul-bond and soon they would be magically married.

Friday evening, when the Grangers walked into their house, Hermione’s parchment letter from yesterday still lay on the kitchen table. Emma chin-pointed at the letter and said, “At least it’s Harry she’s going to magically marry. We like Harry.”

Dan made the rocking-hand gesture. “No man on the planet, and no boy, deserves Hermione—but Harry comes close.”

But the Granger parents’ strange evening was about to get even more strange.

Pop. A house-elf appeared in the kitchen, holding out a parchment letter and two golden bracelets. “Cliffy is here to carry an offer to Mister Doctor Grangey,” the house-elf said. Dan took the letter.

To Dr Daniel Granger,

Let me introduce myself: I am the Spirit of Hogwarts, an almost-intelligent magical entity that runs Hogwarts Castle, following the orders of the four founders.

The Board of Governors is a group of Hogwarts parents that has the authority to hire and fire the headmaster and deputy headmaster, and to set the annual budget. Recently a member of the Board of Governors, Lucius Malfoy, died, and so the Board needs a replacement for him.

The only requirements that the founders set to be a member of the Board is to be a person of good character and to be a parent of a current Hogwarts student. Whilst it is traditional that a Board member furthermore be a former Hogwarts student, this is not a requirement. Such a tradition, when it is enforced, denies all Muggle parents of Muggle-borns any chance for representation on the Board. At present, Muggle-born students are 26.3 percent of the student body.

Following instructions of the four founders, I am offering you a position on the Board of Governors. If you accept the position, the house-elf who bears this letter, Cliffy, will inform you of any Board meetings that you need to attend, and is on call for you twenty-four hours a day. Cliffy will take you and your wife to Hogwarts anytime you ask. I ask, however, that whenever you go to Hogwarts, that you and your wife each wear the gold Muggle Protection Bracelet.

If you choose to accept this offer, please place a drop of your blood somewhere on the parchment of this letter, then say aloud “I accept” in Cliffy’s hearing. Cliffy then will heal your injury.

The Spirit of Hogwarts

It took Dan and Emma Granger less than five seconds to decide. Then Emma fetched a knife with a sharp point, and performed “surgery” on Dan’s thumb.

Ten seconds later, pop. Gold-braceleted Dan, gold-braceleted Emma and Cliffy were standing in Headmistress McGonagall’s office. The headmistress looked startled to see Miss Granger’s Muggle parents and a house-elf appear in front of her. Then Dan handed the elderly witch his letter. Headmistress McGonagall looked even more startled after she read the letter.

****

Seconds later, in the Ravenclaw common room

Pop. “Hello, Princess; hello, Harry,” a familiar man’s voice said. “Our girl is studying as usual, I see.”

Hermione looked up, then her Transfiguration textbook slid to the floor, forgotten. “Mum? Dad?”

Hermione took two steps forwards, then hugged her parents for all she was worth. “You remember me!”

Emma Granger laughed. “I spent ten hours giving birth to you, dear; you better believe I remember you.”

Dan Granger said, “I remember how proud I always am of my daughter. Who now is a troll-slayer at twelve. Shouldn’t you be wearing a Frank Frazetta- or Boris Vallejo-designed sword?”

Harry asked, “So, Doctors Granger, how is it you’re here? Did you buy a house-elf?”

Harry was asking the question as if he did not know the answer; but to Hermione, his voice sounded off. Hermione was certain that Harry was up to something sneaky that he did not want her to know about, and it involved her parents.

Meanwhile, Dan Granger had handed Harry the letter. “You’re looking at the only Muggle member of the Board of Governors. As such, I’m permanently loaned a Hogwarts house-elf.”

Harry said, “I’m guessing that the Board of Governors has never had a Muggle member before.” Then Harry grinned at Hermione and added, “Too bad there is no source we could look in, to find out for sure.”

Hermione did not break her hug of her parents, but she did glare at Harry. “Prat.”

The Granger parents looked confused, so Harry explained the joke: “Hermione reads and rereads Hogwarts: A History the same way that other genius girls her age reread Pride and Prejudice.”

Hermione introduced her parents to everyone in the Ravenclaw common room. (Marietta and Cho were not introduced because they were serving detention elsewhere with Filch.) Thanks to the Doctors Grangers’ golden bracelets, the dentists could see and could talk with Myrtle Warren, whom Hermione introduced as “another Muggle-born Ravenclaw, who happened to die in 1943.”

After introductions were made, Hermione and Harry gave the elder Grangers a tour of the castle. Their first stop: the Hufflepuff common room, to tell Justin Finch-Fletchley that the Board of Governors now had a Muggle parent on it.

****

The next morning
Saturday, 2nd November, after breakfast

It had been a day and a half since Magic had gifted Harry with eighteen Houses by Right of Conquest, and eighteen hours since Hermione had been given her previous-lifetime-future memories. Since then, Harry and Hermione discussed “What should I do with the eighteen Houses?”—but not in terms of Wizengamot politics, as someone else would expect. No, Harry and Hermione discussed “How can I use my Headship of these eighteen Houses to prevent the rise of another British Dark Lord?”

By now, Harry had a plan. With Hermione smiling encouragingly at him, Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the ceiling.

“Magic has awarded me eighteen Houses by Right of Conquest—namely, Avery, Crabbe, Flint, Gaunt, Goyle, Lestrange, Macnair, Malfoy, Mulciber, Nott, Parkinson, Rookwood, Rowle, Scabior, Selwyn, Slytherin, Travers, and Yaxley.

“I magically declare that all of the above-named Houses, except for Slytherin, are to be extinct. For the seventeen designated-extinct Houses, Heirs and Heiresses of those Houses lose their Heir or Heiress status, I do not name anyone as Heir or Heiress for any of these named Houses, and nobody may claim Lordship of any of these named Houses after I die. So mote it be.”

Harry’s wand flashed. Hermione rushed forward and hugged Harry, as she kissed him on the lips.

Once they broke the kiss, Harry grinned mischievously. “Now I’ll be the last person who is ever qualified to wear the Gaunt Head of House ring. So nobody will ever find out that I don’t have that ring myself anymore, that I gave the ring to Thanatos.”

****

Lunchtime
In the Hogwarts kitchens underneath the Great Hall

Harry had invited Sirius Black and Narcissa Malfoy to lunch, along with Andromeda Tonks and Draco Malfoy (and Hermione, of course); “dress is casual.”

For Sirius, the eating of the meal simply was a time to relax. But during this same hour, Narcissa clearly was not relaxed at all. Harry realised that with the Head of House Black at the table and the underage Head of House Malfoy at the table, for Narcissa the letter she had been handed was a Summons To Appear.

Harry spent the meal reassuring Narcissa. Severus Snape, Sirius and Andromeda all had spoken well of Narcissa, Harry told her; and Harry remarked that Draco nowadays was a good friend of good character, which spoke well for Narcissa as a mother.

Then Harry told Narcissa why he had asked her to come—

“Hermione and I are bonded soulmates, so one day we’ll be married. When I’m Head of House Potter and Hermione and I are married, we’ll be living in a fishbowl. But you’ve already lived that life, so you can advise us to a degree nobody else can. Today I ask you for your future help and advice, for both Hermione and me.

“Also, when I killed Voldemort, I killed seventy-seven Death Eaters in the same instant. Sixteen of those Death Eaters were Heads of House when they died, and Magic gave me those sixteen Houses, plus the Houses of Slytherin and Gaunt, by Right of Conquest. Fifteen new widows, including you, are now each Regent for a House, whilst I am the Heir and the underage Head of House. I ask you to be my liaison with the other fourteen Death Eater-house Regent-widows.”

Narcissa said, “The first thing we’ll ask is, What are your intentions with us? Until two days ago, our husbands were your enemies.”

Harry said, “My first intention: Be assured that I don’t consider any of the Death Eater widows, or the Death Eater children, to be my enemies. Next, all the Houses that I gained by Right of Conquest except for Slytherin, I intend to declare extinct.”

Narcissa choked. “Extinct?”

“Yes. I won’t choose an Heir from those Houses to follow me, either of my blood or theirs. So for instance, Draco should consider his life now to be as if he had two healthy older brothers. Draco’s schooling still will be paid for, and he still may marry; but I will negotiate his betrothal, and Draco never will become Lord Malfoy.”

Draco looked at his mother and at Harry with a pleading expression. “Can one of you please break my betrothal to Pansy?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, then explained to Sirius, “Pansy hangs all over Draco.”

To Harry, Narcissa’s smile looked like a smile of relief. “I think I can work with you, Heir Potter-Malfoy.”

****

After lunch

Harry wrote a letter to the fifteen new Regent-widows of Death Eater Houses—

Two days ago, I killed Lord Voldemort, who was trying to regain a body. Killing Voldemort killed all of his minions (Death Eaters) who had taken the Dark Mark. Your husband was one of the Death Eaters who died two days ago. Magic has made me the underage Head of House for your House, by Right of Conquest. On 31st July 1997, I’ll fully become Head of House; until then, you are Regent.

Be sure that I won’t have sex with any Death Eater widow or any Death Eater daughter, because I’ve a soulmate and she’s the only one I’ll ever want to have sex with.

As I wrote above, you are now Regent for your House. I won’t look over your shoulder, but the goblins will audit your books on 31st July 1997. Govern yourself accordingly.

Any kind of support for any blood-purity organisation, whether by giving it time, effort or money, I forbid. I’ll make you a No-Name if you disobey me in this. Why? Because blood-purity talk offends me.

If you feel uncomfortable talking or writing directly to me, talk to Narcissa Black Malfoy, to Andromeda Black Tonks or to Severus Snape.

(signed) Harry James Potter, underage Head of House Potter, underage Head of eighteen other Houses by Right of Conquest

Harry made fifteen copies of the letter, but with different names in the salutation, and owled the letter to the Regent-widows of Houses Avery, Crabbe, Flint, Goyle, Macnair, Malfoy, Mulciber, Nott, Parkinson, Rookwood, Rowle, Scabior, Selwyn, Travers, and Yaxley. (Harry did not send a letter to the Lestrange widow, because all the members of the Lestrange family, including Lady Lestrange a.k.a Bellatrix Lestrange, were dead.)

****

Monday, 4th November, morning
Three days after Hermione received the memories

In a corridor, Harry was genuflecting, seemingly tying his shoe. Hermione was standing by him with her wand out, seemingly standing guard.

Bilious/Won-Won/Ron was walking closer. He was alone, because in this lifetime, Ron Weasley had no friends at Hogwarts.

Hermione whispered a spell: “Howler Molly, cancellation passphrase ‘dish served cold.’ ”

When Bilious came close, he said coldly, “Do you even know how to use that thing, mudblood?”

Hermione retorted, “Are you still using your great-granddaddy’s wand?”

Bilious stopped, scowled at Hermione and started to draw his wand—

Harry said calmly, “Move along, Bilious, before you get hurt.”

“Two against one, Bilious,” Hermione said, smiling cruelly.

Scowling Bilious walked away. As soon as he was no longer looking at Hermione, she whispered, “Engage.”

A mustard-coloured spell left Hermione’s wand, traveled one foot, then was absorbed by Bilious’s green-and-silver robes. The spell seemingly had no effect.

****

At lunchtime, in the Great Hall

Harry and Hermione always had breakfast and lunch at the first-years part of the Ravenclaw table; so they were eating nearby when Marietta Edgecombe and Cho Chang both started to scream.

Those two second-year girls were having a string of bad luck. For the past three days, both girls had served detention with Filch; the rumour going round was that Flitwick had assigned those girls detentions with Filch till Yule Break.

And now, each girl had pimples on her forehead that spelled out the word “BULLY.” Each seeing this on the other girl’s forehead, then figuring out that the same word was on her own forehead, was why the two Ravenclaw bully-girls had begun making loud noise—

—which was soon joined by loud noise at the Slytherin table. Ron yelled, “PASS THE POTATOES.” A pause, “I’M NOT YELLING, YOU BINT, I’M SPEAKING NORMALLY. NOW PASS ME THE BLOODY POTATOES!”

Professor Snape jumped up, ran over, and cast “Finite Incantatem” on the ginger-haired loser. Hermione kept silent and did not tell the professor that without the correct passphrase, his counterspell would not work. Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick was at the Ravenclaw table, likewise accomplishing nothing in removing the BULLY-pimples from Edgecombe and Chang.

About this time, Professor Snape went to Plan B: He put a Silencing Charm on Bilious.

Headmistress McGonagall accused the Weasley Twins of the double prank. They stood up and denied every part of the accusation. Then they declared, “If those two Ravenclaw girls have been bullying first- and second-year students, now they can expect a double dose of pranks. We, the Weasley Twins, avenge ourselves on bullies.”

The odd thing for Hermione was, after Professor Snape returned to the High Table, he spent the rest of the meal staring over at Harry and Hermione, his face thoughtful.

****

Wednesday, 6 November

It had been two days since Hermione had pranked her other-lifetime potioneer and the two Ravenclaw bullies. Ron Weasley, Marietta Edgecombe and Cho Chang all had needed to be shipped to Saint Mungo’s, in order for the spells on them to be cancelled. No professor had questioned Hermione—who, after all, was only a first-year student.

But whilst no professor had questioned Hermione, Professor Snape had spent much time at every meal, during the last two days, watching Harry and Hermione.

The same was true when Harry and Hermione, Professor Snape and Professor Tonks had their weekly Wednesday-afternoon tea: Professor Snape spoke less than usual, and watched Harry and Hermione more than usual. Hermione was so rattled that she asked Professor Tonks about Dora Tonks’s work as an “Auror First Class”; Harry had to gently remind Hermione that Dora Tonks had another month still to go in the Auror Academy. Even worse, Hermione several times almost called Professor Snape “Headmaster Snape.”

Hermione could not guess why Professor Snape was watching her so closely. If it were not daytime, and the moon were not in the wrong phase, Hermione would suspect that Professor Snape suspected Harry and her of being werewolves about to transform.

****

The next day: Thursday, 7 November, after lunch

As students and professors were scattering after lunch, Professor Snape said, “Mr Potter, Miss Granger, please come here.”

When Harry and Hermione, both puzzled, walked up to the High Table, Professor Snape said to them, “I wish to discuss an important matter with you. When may I have a half-hour of your time?”

Thus it came to pass that Harry and Hermione knocked on the door to Professor Snape’s office at 3:00 p.m.

“Enter,” they were told.

****

3 p.m. in Snape’s office

Before Professor Snape talked about whatever was on his mind, he magically double-locked the door to his office and put up three silencing charms. Harry and Hermione looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

Professor Snape began: “It took Saint Mungo’s to remove the message from the foreheads of Miss Chang and Miss Edgecombe; and it took the Hogwarts faculty till today to discover how the deed was done. A potion was brewed, the main ingredient of which was powdered scorpion legs; then the brewed potion was served in a goblet that had some particular runes carved into it. The potion-work and the runes-work were each sixth-year level; and the prank itself showed multidisciplinary thinking.”

“It’s a masterpiece of a prank,” Harry summarised.

Professor Snape nodded, then continued, “Today, only two seventh-year Slytherins and a seventh-year Ravenclaw could put this prank together, but they all deny doing so. Miss Granger, you have such an obvious motive for pranking those two girls, and you have so much demonstrated cleverness that, were you five years older, you now would be holding an uncomfortable conversation with the headmistress. But you are a first-year, so as far as the rest of the professors here are concerned, you are blameless.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione said to Professor Snape, “But you think I whammied those two. Even though I’m still in the first half of my first year.”

Professor Snape paused, perhaps to consider his words, then said, “I have known people who were arrogant. James Potter as a teenager was arrogant.” Harry started to speak; Professor Shape held up a hand to silence him. “Lucius Malfoy was arrogant from the day I met him till the day he died. Arrogant people pretend a superiority they do not have. Your father, Mr Potter, grew out of his arrogance by seventh year; Lucius Malfoy never grew up.”

“Okaaay?” Hermione said, unable to guess Professor Snape’s point.

“You, Mr Potter, have confidence, which is something quite different. Because you are confident, you are kind and generous; but when angry, you seem lethal. You give off an attitude of ‘If I need to kill someone, he will be killed.’ Of all the survivors of the Blood War, only ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody has this air, or aura, or vibration—so how does a boy too young to shave, have the same deadly aura?”

Neither Harry or Hermione answered.

Professor Snape answered his own question: “Mr Potter, I believe you are a time-traveller who has taken a De-Aging Potion. I believe that your mind is older than your body, and that you are a veteran of a future war.”

Harry and Hermione now were silently nervous.

Professor Snape said, “The reason I am telling you this is that in the last few days, Miss Granger likewise has begun to act more mature, and more confident, than someone would expect of a girl of twelve.”

At last Harry spoke: “Bloody buggering bollocks.”

****

An instant later

Harry replied, “Professor Snape, before Hermione or I tell you anything more, I demand a magical oath that you won’t share what you learn today with anyone other than Hermione, the Sorting Hat and me, without my permission.”

Snape’s eyebrows shot up, but he made the oath. Hermione, whom Harry had noticed biting her lip from nervousness, now stopped biting it.

Harry next called for Wrinkly, who appeared with a pop and a respectful greeting. Snape’s eyebrows definitely shot up now, and Harry easily could guess what Snape was thinking. How many Muggle-raised first-years would know that Hogwarts even had house-elves, much less would try to summon Wrinkly, the head Hogwarts house-elf, much less would try to summon Wrinkly and Wrinkly would actually come?

Harry said to Wrinkly, “Go fetch the Sorting Hat and bring it here.” Pop. Pop. “Thank you, you may go.” Pop.

Harry put the Sorting Hat on his head, just long enough to mentally say, “I’m about to pass you to Snape. You have my permission to share with him any of my memories that he wants to see—except don’t tell him that I’m the Designated Secret Substitute.”

“I won’t give Severus even a hint,” the Hat promised.

Harry then took off the Hat and held it out to Snape. But just as Snape took the Hat, Harry said, “In my previous lifetime, you and I had quite a different relationship than we do now. Ask the Hat to show you our first interaction, in September 1991, and our last interaction, in May 1998.”

Snape put on the Hat, then his face went blank.

Hermione asked, “Is this the right thing to do, telling Professor Snape everything?”

“Almost everything—he won’t find out that I’m the DSS. But to answer your question: Yes, I think I’m doing the right thing. And if Thanatos gets angry at me for breaking the spirit of the contract I signed—then oi, I’ll take the hit. Sometime in the last few days, I decided that whilst I won’t volunteer information to Snape or to Cousin Andromeda, I won’t lie to them or to you, no matter what trouble this brings me.”

Hermione hugged him. “Never once have I known Harry Potter to do the easy thing instead of the right thing.”

Snape still was distracted by whatever the Hat was showing him. Harry leant forward and snogged Hermione mightily.

****

Over an hour later

Snape took off the Hat. His first words to Harry were, “The headmaster grievously wronged us both.”

Harry snapped, “He also schemed to potion Hermione into marrying Bilious, to improve the Weasley bloodlines. So Dumbledore grievously wronged Hermione too.”

Snape looked at Hermione. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Hermione nodded. “You guessed correctly—I also have previous-lifetime memories, as of six days ago.” Sombrely she added, “I died in May 1998, ten minutes after Harry died.”

Then Hermione snarled. “But before the headmaster himself died, he played me like a violin. I spied on Harry, I turned my back on him twice when he needed me—and all those times, I was smooth-talked into believing I was acting ‘for Harry’s own good.’ ”

Snape nodded. “I learnt a long time ago that when the headmaster talked about my own good or ‘the Greater Good,’ it meant he was holding a knife in his hand.”

Snape showed a tiny hint of a smile. “But now our former headmaster is swinging a pick underneath Gringotts. Which truly is ‘for Harry’s own good,’ because Ragnok, unlike Fudge, won’t be bribed to let criminals run free.”

Hermione said, “Right now, Minister for Magic Fudge and Senior Undersecretary Umbridge won’t do anything, except decompose. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but they each had the Dark Mark on their bicep, not their forearm, so now they’re both dead.”

Harry said, “I will not tell lies, I’m not sorry the Umbitch is dead. As for Dumbledore, he’s out of the limelight now, which I’m sure bothers him a hundred times more than does building up blisters on his hands.”

Snape looked at Harry and said, “Changing the subject, Mr Potter: You tricked me when I visited you last July, but I thank you for it. You repaired my life. Because you asked me one clever question, I now am dating brilliant Amelia Bones, and I respect the man I see in the mirror.”

****

Meanwhile
Somewhere within the gold mine underneath Gringotts London

Albus Dumbledore had a plan. At the moment he was swinging a pick to remove chunks of gold ore from a rock wall, but he had a plan.

Everyone else believed that Voldemort had died in 1981, but only Albus Dumbledore knew differently. Only Albus Dumbledore knew that Quirinus Quirrell was possessed by the wraith of Tom Riddle. Sooner or later Quirrell-slash-Riddle would attack Harry, Harry would die, and then the Prophecy would be fulfilled.

Until the Prophecy was fulfilled, anyone who fought Tom Riddle would suffer fatal bad luck. But after the Prophecy was fulfilled, Riddle could be killed by someone other than Harry Potter. And who would the sheeple demand that Riddle be killed by? Why, the “Defeater of Grindelwald”! The Ministry would make sure that the goblins released Albus from the mines; afterwards, the Ministry would agree to any terms that Albus set. Oh, life would be sweet then!

Still, Albus foresaw a minor problem with his plan: By the terms of the magical oath that he had taken, he had to repay G1 724 to Sirius Black by 1st January, or he would lose his magic. But Albus was sure that long before then, Harry Potter would be dead, Tom Riddle would be making trouble and Wizarding Britain would be panicked.

****

Eight days later: Friday, 15th November

When Headmistress McGonagall returned to the Headmistress’s office after teaching third-year Transfiguration, she discovered three founder relics laying on her desk: Slytherin’s Locket, Ravenclaw’s Diadem, and Hufflepuff’s Cup.

No note was present to explain how the three relics suddenly had appeared on her desk.

When McGonagall summoned the Spirit of Hogwarts, the headmistress was told that the Spirit knew the full story but, “following orders from the founders,” the Spirit of Hogwarts could not tell McGonagall anything.

In the years to come, many explanations would be put forth, of how these three relics had disappeared and how the relics suddenly had reappeared. By the time Harry and Hermione were seventh-years, the stories had become laughably outlandish.

****

Friday, 15th November-Saturday, 23rd November

Whenever Bilious walked into the Great Hall to eat a meal, as soon as he passed through the doors, he began oinking like a pig.

For eight days, every time the professors thought they had stopped the prank, it would resume with Bilious’s next meal. For eight days, the professors were annoyed, the students were pointing and laughing, and Bilious was red-eared with embarrassment. However, Bilious’s table manners did not improve.

Again the Weasley Twins denied pulling the prank. In fact, they called the prank “bloody brilliant” and admitted to envying the prankster.

When the Weasley Twins said this, Professor Snape stared straight at Hermione and scowled.

****

A month later
Sunday, 22nd December
The Winter Solstice/Yule

Sirius married Heather Tidwell, his Muggle-born-witch girlfriend who worked at Obliviator Headquarters.

Sirius explained his thinking for the wedding date this way: “First, Yule is a day with extra magical power. Secondly, and much more importantly, our wedding night will be the longest night of the year!”

Amelia Bones sent the couple a tasteful wedding gift (a crystal punch bowl), but did not attend the wedding.

Harry spent close to G100 buying new clothes for the wedding. One reason he bought so many new clothes was because Harry’s godfather and guardian was getting married, and Harry wearing poorly fitting clothes would reflect badly on Sirius. The second reason for all the clothes-shopping was that Harry had been taking healing potions and growth potions since July; Harry was now second-tallest of all the first-year boys. The clothes that Snape had bought for Harry at Little Whinging Shopping Centre, back in July, now were way too small for Harry.

Chapter 24: Epilogue, Part 2

Chapter Text

Tuesday, 31 December 1991, afternoon

Albus Dumbledore, who these days was merely another prisoner-miner in Gringotts London’s gold mine, was beginning to worry.

Two months ago, when Albus had been sentenced to the gold mine, he had been confident that the Ministry of Magic would squeeze the goblins diplomatically till they released “the Defeater of Grindelwald,” and had been confident that some wealthy wizard or witch would come forward with a gift of G1 724 so that Albus could pay off Sirius Black in time.

But none of these things had happened, and now Albus had roughly twenty-four hours till his magical deadline expired.

Albus wondered, Is this delay till the last minute part of a Ministry tactic to squeeze me when it comes time to negotiate my life after I’m released from the prison-mine? Or does Wizarding Britain truly not wish to rescue “the Defeater of Grindelwald” from a dire fate?

Albus got a clue which way the winds were blowing when a goblin guard, grinning a sharp-teeth smile, handed Albus a paper envelope. Albus noticed that the paper envelope had been addressed to him with a Muggle pen. Inside the envelope were a newspaper clipping and a letter.

The clipping was from the 3rd November Daily Prophet, reporting on a 2nd November press conference—

“Two days ago on 31st October, seventy-seven prominent wizards and witches suddenly died, most notably Minister for Magic Fudge, Senior Undersecretary Umbridge and Lord Lucius Malfoy. All seventy-seven died at times close to each other, or at the same time. Yesterday we reported that all seventy-seven were marked with You-Know-Who’s Dark Mark, and none of the suddenly dead did not have the Dark Mark.

“Today Amelia Bones and Head Unspeakable Saul Croaker held a press conference. Madam Bones reported that she knows who the mass killer of Death Eaters is, but will not charge him or her with a crime. She refused to divulge the killer’s name. She referred to her ‘oaths of office, under penalty of losing my magic,’ as the reason for her actions. However, she volunteered the fact that these deaths related to the death of Hogwarts professor Quirinus Quirrell, but did not explain her statement. Head Unspeakable Croaker stated that the deaths of seventy-seven Death Eaters and the death of Professor Quirrell were incidental to the fulfillment of a prophecy, but he did not divulge the prophecy.

“A reporter asked Madam Bones to comment on a rumour that You-Know-Who had been partly alive until recently, but that Harry Potter killed You-Know-Who forever on 31st October. Madam Bones refused to comment on the rumour.”

****

Albus understood what the Daily Prophet did not: that Harry Potter had killed Voldemort, not the other way round as Albus had planned; and when Voldemort had died, seventy-seven Death Eaters had died at the same time.

But Albus was confused about Croaker’s remark that a prophecy had been fulfilled. Were all the horcruxes tracked down and destroyed? If so, how?

The letter that had come with the newspaper clipping, turned out to be written by Harry Potter—

Oi there, thief, liar and kidnapper,

Horcruxes destroyed: (•) Tom Riddle’s diary (•) Hufflepuff’s Cup (•) Ravenclaw’s Diadem (•) Slytherin’s Locket (•) the Gaunt Head of House ring (with mounted Resurrection Stone) (•) Harry Potter’s lightning-bolt scar

The Dark Lord has been: ( ) Mildly inconvenienced ( ) Defeated ( ) Killed (•) Vanquished

The “Swiss Dwarves’ Shape-Shifting Potion” that you paid G480 to buy from “John Bull”? The true name of the potion was “Deceived Disguise Potion,” and you bought it from me. So it was “Harry my boy” who tricked you into walking into Gringotts when you knew there was a warrant for your arrest there—and unlike with the Weasley Twins, this time the person who tricked you, you paid money to! Don’t you feel stupid! Ah, your arrest was truly for the Greater Good. And considering that you stole G107 000 out of the Potter family vault, you being “disappointed” in me for swindling you out of G480 doesn’t mean much, does it?

Happy New Year, Albus Percival Dumbledore. I guarantee you that with you locked up, 1992 will be brilliant for Hermione and me.

Harry not your boy

P.S. In case you’ve forgotten: You have less than twenty-four hours to repay Sirius Black the G1 724 he lent you, or else you’ll lose your magic.

Albus, after reading the newspaper article and Harry’s letter, knew he was doomed then.

No panicked benefactor would rush in to give Albus G1 724 so that Albus could repay Sirius before he lost his magic.

Meaning, tomorrow Albus would lose his magic and would become a Muggle. Healing potions did not work on Muggles.

Albus had never heard of a Muggle man who had lived to be 110 years old. Albus certainly had never heard of a Muggle man who had lived much past 110.

Albus now fiercely wanted to get drunk. Alas, this option was denied him. The goblins, Albus had been told, had a law banning the serving of alcohol to miners.

****

Almost seven weeks later
Monday, 17 February 1992

Albus Dumbledore died. The goblin prisoner-guards immediately vanished his corpse. Only Director Ragnok and Aberforth Dumbledore, in that order, were notified of Albus’s death. Aberforth Dumbledore made no public statement about his brother’s death, and held no funeral. It was almost a year later, and only by accident, that the wizarding public learned of Albus P. Dumbledore’s death.

****

Meanwhile, in a timeless place

Albus found himself in front of a desk, facing a bald-headed, muscular, forty-something man who was wearing thick leather clothing. Albus wondered if the man could be enticed into becoming a ... playmate.

Then Albus noticed the wooden shield and the bronze sword that were mounted on the wall, the cowled black robe hanging from a peg, and the scythe in the corner. I suppose I can let him be the Top, Albus thought.

Albus said, “You are Death?”

“Yes, but I prefer the name Thanatos.” Thanatos clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work. The way the death-process normally works is that you the dead soul meet with your assigned Grim Reaper, who is one of my subordinates. He does a Life Review with you, he makes a Judgement upon you, then you are sent to your Reward. With me so far?”

Albus said, “But apparently I’ve skipped the Grim Reaper part and I’ve come straight to you.”

Thanatos gave Albus a piercing look. “Normally I meet with a dead soul only when the soul is half good and half evil, the soul is saintly, the soul is black evil, or the soul was touched by a prophecy. I flagged your file in 1981 because you meet two of the four criteria.”

Albus smiled his best grandfatherly smile. “Everything I’ve done since 1945, I’ve done for the Greater Good.”

Thanatos leant forward. “Ah, but for whose greater good? What group has benefitted the most from your deeds, Albus my boy? In 1945 you were given three titles, and much authority. I’ll ignore for the moment that you were given those titles because you misled everyone into believing you’d killed Gellert Grindelwald, when in fact you merely had Stupefyed him and had imprisoned him. Anyway, you were given three titles in 1945. Forty-seven years later, who is better off than they were in 1945?”

“Almost everyone,” Albus said, beaming.

Thanatos shook his head. “Dark wizards, that’s who is better off—they’re alive, they’re healthy and, if they’ve gold to spread about, they can walk free no matter what the statutes say. But then, the statutes that are law now, they favour the dark wizards, isn’t this true? On the other hand, Muggle-borns in 1992 are trapped and marginalised, the same for werewolves, and many who fought Tom Riddle and his minions are dead now because they followed your orders.”

Albus gritted his teeth and repeated, “Everything I’ve done since 1945, I’ve done for the Greater Good.”

Thanatos called out, “Antonia, please come over here and help me out. When are evil acts allowed if they serve the Greater Good?”

Albus blurted, “Evil? Listen, nothing I’ve done—”

A woman in white robes stepped up to Albus’s chair. She had white wings growing out of her back! Albus wondered if he could get his own wings coloured lavender.

Meanwhile, Antonia the angel was saying, “Evil that is done for the Greater Good still is evil. We do not accept excuses, explanations or justifications here. Any action that is endorsed by heaven as good harms no one, except possibly the actor.”

“But—”

Thanatos said, “Albus, you’re on record”—Thanatos patted a three-inch-thick folder—“as saying that your Afterlife will be ‘the next great adventure.’ But I promise you, your Afterlife will be neither ‘great’ nor an ‘adventure.’ Want to know why? Because of Trelawney’s prophecy that you heard.

“Have you ever wondered why you heard the prophecy, instead of Tom the bartender? Or Rita Skeeter? Or Minerva McGonagall? Because you were uniquely placed, in all the world, to make otherwise impossible things happen! You were Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, so as soon as Riddle marked Harry Potter as his equal, you could’ve organised tutors for the boy from Germany, France, the United States and Japan. You were Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, so you could’ve passed laws, and could’ve seen to the laws’ enforcement, so that Riddle’s minions would’ve been thrown through the Veil, Kissed or imprisoned—”

Albus said, “I don’t believe in executing criminals. Everyone deserves a chance to repent.”

Thanatos resumed, “As I was saying. As headmaster of Hogwarts, you had ten years to track down and to destroy the cause of the ‘DADA curse,’ then to hire ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody as the DADA instructor. Then, when Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts, he could teach the other students what he’d learnt from his tutors. Do you understand? It was heaven’s intent that, were a dark lord to rise up, Sally-Anne Perks, say, could fight six of that dark lord’s minions to a standstill. Speaking of Sally-Anne Perks, what you did to her was cruel, and I will be holding you to account for that.”

Albus was beginning to suspect that he would not be sporting lavender wings in his Afterlife.

Thanatos glared at Albus. “It was heaven’s intent that you do all the things that only you could do to smooth Harry Potter’s path, so that, when the time came, Harry Potter would vanquish Riddle, and as easily as falling off a log. Instead, Albus P. Dumbledore, from the day you heard the prophecy, you plotted to trick the boy into letting himself die, in order that you would kill Riddle and you’d be written into the history books as ‘the wizard greater than Merlin.’ ”

Then Thanatos said, “Antonia, suit up. Albus, I’ve good news for you: Where I’m about to send you, you’ll spend eternity with a former student of yours.”

****

Over four months later
June 1992, the Leaving Feast at Hogwarts SOW&W

Before the Feast, Professor Flitwick passed out the marks for all the Ravenclaws, just as Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Professor Sprout did for all the students of their respective Houses.

Harry got high marks; but Hermione got O’s and O-plusses in everything. “Mad-Eye” Moody, the replacement (and now permanent!) DADA teacher, who refused to be addressed as “Professor,” had given Harry a mark of “Outstanding-plus.”

The Opening Feast (a.k.a the Sorting Feast), the Yule Feast and the Closing Feast were the only times during the school year when all students were required to eat with their Houses. So today Harry, Hermione, Padma and Su Li were eating with the other first-year Ravenclaws; whilst Daphne, Draco, Millicent and Tracey all were sitting at the Slytherin table—

—until Draco left his bench and walked over to where Hermione was sitting. “Miss Granger,” Draco said formally, “may I see your marks? Here are mine.”

Harry was not going to draw attention to it out loud, but Hermione had no EE’s, whilst Draco had two; and Hermione had two O-plusses, whilst Draco had only one.

Draco looked at Harry and said, “The hundred-galleon bet you made with me on the firstie train? It looks like I lost.”

Harry said, “I’m sure it was hard for you to admit this.”

“It was, and not only because I hate losing at any kind of competition.”

Then Draco surprised Harry. The blond boy walked to the High Table and spoke briefly with Snape, who led Draco to McGonagall. Draco and McGonagall spoke briefly, McGonagall nodded, then Draco turned to face the four House tables.

Snape drew his wand, put the tip of it to Draco’s throat and said “Sonorus.” Draco took a deep breath, then began to speak.

****

“Riding on the firstie train, four other Purebloods and myself sat in the same compartment when the door opened and Heir Potter introduced himself to us. He also introduced us to his Muggle-born friend, Miss Hermione Granger.

“Somehow the doctrine of blood purity came up. Heir Potter said that he didn’t believe that blood-purity doctrine was true because his Muggle-born mother, Miss Lily Evans, was Head Girl in her seventh year. (A claim which was true, by the way—you can look it up.) Heir Potter offered to bet a hundred galleons with any of us five Purebloods about our marks—but not that he, a halfblood, would score higher marks than any of us, but that his Muggle-born friend, Miss Granger, would outscore any of us.

“I took that bet, along with someone else in that compartment. Of course I expected to win—a Pureblood against a Muggle-born? No contest! Once I was here at Hogwarts, I wrote my father about the bet. My father, Lord Lucius Malfoy, wrote back that he expected me to beat this girl; but if perchance she beat me, this would show that I was lazy and he’d be ashamed of me.

“So I, a first-year, studied this year like a seventh-year. I put twice as much time into reading textbooks, revising (reviewing) notes and writing essays as I would’ve, had I not made the bet; and I worked this hard from September till now. Just now I found out: Miss Granger beat me anyway.”

Draco stopped speaking, and he bowed to Hermione. The Great Hall was filled with applause, and Hermione blushed red.

Draco spoke again: “I tell you now that Heir Potter was right, and the idea that I’m somehow a more powerful wizard because both my parents come from long-magical families, is a lie. The Dark Lord was a much more powerful wizard than my father, which was one of two reasons why my father devoted himself to the Dark Lord. The other reason being that the Dark Lord told my father what my father wanted to hear. But who was this wizard of great magical power whom my father bowed to? The son of a Squib and a Muggle. And who defeated the Dark Lord? The first time, it was Lady Lily Evans Potter, a Muggle-born; and the second time, it was her son Harry, a halfblood. As for Purebloods like my father? They were played for fools, and now they’re dead and their Houses belong to Heir Potter, a halfblood.

“Anyway, I don’t have anything else to say. I’m still trying to figure out myself, what all this means. Thanks to you lot for listening to me.”

Draco nodded at Snape, who said “Quietus.” Draco walked back to the Slytherin table—

—where Pansy slapped him. “You’re disgusting,” she said, in the otherwise-silent room.

****

The next day, Narcissa Malfoy met the train in King’s Cross Station with one hundred galleons in a moneybag, which she promptly handed to Harry. Neither Pansy nor any other Parkinson ever paid off the hundred galleons that Pansy owed Harry for losing the bet.

****

Wednesday, 1st July 1992, at Bones Manor

Severus Snape and Amelia Bones married. It was the first marriage for both the bride and groom.

Amongst the wedding guests were Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Andromeda Black Tonks and Ted Tonks. Recent bride Heather Tidwell-Black attended the wedding; her husband Sirius, though invited, did not attend.

****

Two days later: Friday, 3rd July 1992

Back in April, the all-Houses firsties had fallen into a discussion of this question: “Suppose on the firstie train, Hermione had lied about her status and said, ‘I’m Hermione Black, a Pureblood like you, and the reason you’ve never seen me before is because my family lives in France.’ How would you prove she was lying and that she was really a Muggle-born?”

Eventually the group had decided that there would be two ways to tell. Firstly, the wizard-raised wear only pants (undershorts) or knickers under their robes, whilst Muggle-borns wear full Muggle clothing under their robes. Secondly, as Daphne put it, “I would lead Hermione the ‘Pureblood’ to someone who was a halfblood, and I would say ‘This person is a halfblood’ before Hermione introduced herself. For Purebloods there are three different sets of rules, for introducing yourself to another Pureblood, to a halfblood and to a Muggle-born; but Muggle-borns introduce themselves to everyone the same way every time. If Hermione the ‘Pureblood’ introduced herself to the halfblood the same way a Muggle-born would, I’d know that Hermione was a Muggle-born.”

Hermione had commented on the discussion, “But getting tripped up by not knowing all the little rules, this works the other way too. When Professor McGonagall came to our house two years ago for her Muggle-born visit, her Muggle clothes were decades out of style. If she’d met us in a Muggle public place, she would’ve been stared at.”

Su Li had said, “Hermione and Harry, you’ve an advantage over us. If you know nothing about our world, you can hang out in Diagon Alley whilst you watch and listen, and maybe you’ll learn something. But if I went to Harrods Department store and did something ignorant, I could be arrested for violating the Statute of Secrecy.”

Hermione had tapped her chin with her fingertip and had said, “Hm, how could I teach you lot about the Muggle world without violating the Statute? Trust me, Muggle Studies is not the way to go.”

Three months later, Hermione had come up with a solution to the problem: Her friends watching a Muggle video at her parents’ house.

The All-Houses Almost-Second-Years, plus Sirius and Heather, and Ted and Andromeda, were invited to watch a Muggle film at the Grangers and to discuss it. Of the eighteen kids who regularly had eaten dinner at the end of the Ravenclaw table, now fifteen showed up, plus all the invited adults except for Ted Tonks. Narcissa Malfoy nervously had asked if she could attend with Draco.

Once the visitors arrived at the Granger house, they all were told, “There is only one rule here today: No magic in this house. Because regardless of who does the magic, Hermione will get blamed for it, and the Ministry loves to stick it to Muggle-borns. Understand? Now each of you give me your wand.”

The film that Hermione chose was Sleeping with the Enemy, because it was a film from 1991 that showed Muggles here and now, living their Muggle lives. (As much as Hermione wanted to show the wizard-raised kids The Wizard of Oz, and Dan Granger wanted to show them The Terminator and Terminator 2: Judgment Day, it was eventually decided that these films would only confuse a wizard-raised audience.)

Whilst Sleeping with the Enemy was playing, the magical people wrote down questions with ballpoint pens, which the children thought were marvels. The film was stopped every five minutes and the film’s Muggle parts were discussed.

Answers to the questions were provided by all three Grangers, Justin, Harry, Andromeda Tonks and Heather Tidwell-Black. The elder Grangers wound up demonstrating how a telephone worked, and lifting the bonnet on Dan’s car so that the wizard-raised children (plus Sirius and Narcissa) could see what an automobile engine looked like. Luckily, Heather could answer Lavender Brown’s and Narcissa’s questions about Muggle fashion, because Hermione, Emma and Andromeda were all non-experts there.

The wizard-raised magicals, besides being shown the acting talents of Julia Roberts, were introduced to pizza, fizzy drinks and buttered popcorn. The magicals were amazed by the new flavours.

Harry had a hidden agenda for attending this film night. He worked his agenda when he “casually” remarked, “To me it’s obvious that the girl I pick as Lady Slytherin must be from Slytherin House. Yeah, in theory I could become betrothed to Pansy Parkinson; but I prefer a girl whom I know well and I feel comfortable with.” These words put smiles on the faces of Daphne, Millicent and Tracey for the rest of the night.

Three times during the summer hols did the Grangers host a film night. By remarkable coincidence, Daphne, Millicent and Tracey were all three present for all three films.

****

Tuesday, 1st September 1992
Aboard the Hogwarts Express

When nobody was within earshot but Harry and Hermione, Hogwarts firstie Luna Lovegood said to Harry, “Living in the present and knowing a future is confusing, isn’t it? No wonder you and the bushy-haired girl keep this a secret.”

Harry choked. “How do you know the secret, that we know ‘a’ future?”

Luna smiled dreamily.

****

Two years and two months later
31st October 1994

The all-Houses fourth-years, as a group, stood up from the end of the Ravenclaw table and walked out one particular set of double doors. Their destination: the Hogwarts kitchens.

For the professors, and most of the students, this night was the night to celebrate Samhain, or All Hallow’s Eve, or the death of Voldemort. But for Harry Potter, this was the anniversary of the night his parents had been killed—which was nothing to celebrate. In this timeline, Harry had “celebrated” Halloween in 1992 and 1993 in the Hogwarts kitchens, in the company of happy house-elf cooks and Hermione—and amazingly, joined by most of his all-Houses friends.

Just before Harry walked out the Great Hall’s double doors, he turned about and, with Hermione holding his hand, looked round the Great Hall. Harry glanced up, where jack-o’-lanterns floated and illusionary black cats chased each other and played.

But after a glance at the seasonal decorations overhead, Harry’s eyes immediately were drawn to the Slytherin table.

Bilious, who had repeated his first year, now was a third-year Slytherin who was flirting with the Slytherin fourth-year student Pansy Parkinson—probably to make Draco jealous. If this was Bilious’s plan, the joke was on him—Draco and Pansy no longer were betrothed, whilst Draco turned into a tongue-tied fool whenever he talked to Susan Bones. Meanwhile, Pansy did not want Bilious’s attentions at all; and Ginny Weasley, another third-year Slytherin, was angry that her brother was “embarrassing” her.

So Bilious was getting hexed in stereo. That is, Ginny Weasley, who was robed in green and silver in this lifetime, was hexing her brother when she was not giving Harry cow-eyes from across the Great Hall.

“Eyes elsewhere, girl,” Hermione growled.

As for why Pansy was so vicious at hexing Bilious, one of her reasons was that the entire school knew that Bilious called Pansy “ugly” behind her back. But this did not stop Bilious from putting the moves on Pansy whenever Draco was near.

****

After Harry spent a few moments watching his previous-lifetime “best mate” disgrace himself again, Harry looked about the rest of the Great Hall.

There was no Goblet of Fire present now. No Beauxbatons students and no Durmstrang students mingled today with Hogwarts students. Why? Because Headmistress McGonagall and Minister Bones, between them, had chopped up Dumbledore’s plans for the Triwizard Tournament into little bits.

“Mad-Eye” Moody was still the DADA teacher (and had been DADA teacher since November 1991).

Cedric Diggory was not dating Cho Chang, because Cho was no longer at Hogwarts.

Cho and Marietta, in their third year, had bullied oddball Ravenclaw firstie Luna Lovegood—and Harry had cocoon-roped the bully-girls in Flitwick’s office again. Headmistress McGonagall had expelled the two bullies, then the DMLE had snapped their wands.

Before Cho had been expelled, she had been dating Zacharias Smith. Everyone had agreed that those two deserved each other. Cho had had admirers other than Zacharias—but they had been boys who thought that Bellatrix Lestrange dressed in black was the ultimate sex symbol.

Hermione in fourth year, thanks to training from both Andromeda and Narcissa, now had tonnes of social skills. Hermione was liked, and also admired; only Bilious and Ginny ever said anything bad about Hermione. Hermione still was studious, but nobody called her a “know-it-all” anymore, and she had magically fixed her teeth. (Harry had asked Hermione to keep her bushy hair.)

Hermione had her own versions of the Dursleys—an aunt and two cousins who had been verbally abusive to Hermione, back before Hogwarts. But at the Granger Christmas party in 1993, Hermione had outcharmed her aunt and cousins and had marginalised them, without raising her voice or losing her smile.

Yes, both Harry and Hermione had come a long way since the second version of July 1991.

Now Hermione murmured to Harry, “This time round, you’re not endangered by a binding magical contract.”

“True,” Harry replied, “but now I don’t get to see you in your powder-blue gown, whilst wearing that beautiful smile.”

Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek, in front of everyone in the Great Hall. “It was periwinkle blue—but you’re a boy. I don’t expect you to know the difference.”

****

Three and a half years later
Dawn, Saturday, 2nd May 1998

About a month and a half before Harry and Hermione would sit their NEWTs, they slipped out of the castle at dawn for a picnic.

More specifically, the betrothed couple set their picnic at the spot where previous-lifetime Hermione had been Killing-Cursed. As Harry and Hermione ate, they watched the sky brighten, and they listened to the chirping of birds. What they did not hear were the sounds of spells, explosions and screams. All was well.

When eventually Harry and Hermione walked back to the castle, they found Luna Lovegood waiting just outside.

Luna kissed Harry on the cheek. “I died also, during the other today, but now I have many years of life ahead. All thanks to you, Harry Potter. Thank you.”

Without another word, Luna turned and walked back into the castle.

****

A month and a half later
Late June 1998

All three Hogwarts students (Harry, Hermione and Millicent) sat their NEWT exams, then Hermione sat her nonmagical A-levels.

Three days later, Harry married Hermione Granger during a Church of England wedding in Crawley. Harry and Hermione were already magically married; Hermione had become Lady Potter in February 1992, when she had had her first period. Right after Harry married Hermione in Crawley, he married Millicent Bulstrode, “my shield-maiden,” at Hogwarts; Millicent became Lady Slytherin.

Ginny Weasley, a fifth-year Slytherin at the time, had reportedly thrown an epic tantrum when she had learned of Millicent’s betrothal to Harry Potter.

****

A bit over 167 years later
Tuesday, 30th July, 2165

The day before Harry’s 185th birthday, he and Hermione went to bed in the evening. They fell asleep cuddling each other.

They both woke up seated in chairs in front of Thanatos’s desk. Each Potter quickly discovered that the other looked twenty years old.

Thanatos smiled at the married couple. “Harry and Hermione Potter, welcome to the Afterlife. Expect to be richly rewarded, both of you.”

The End