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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Same Pattern, New Materials

Wednesday 1 September 2021; King’s Cross Station Platform 9 ¾

Hermione Granger, age 11; stepped onto the magical platform and took in the sight of the incredible steam train that would take her to Hogwarts to learn how to become a proper witch! She peered around curiously at the people milling about, cats meowing, owls fluttering overhead, and the occasional shout from the students finding their friends. It was for an odd moment, one of those shouts seemed to be calling her name. “Hermione!”

‘Nah, it couldn’t be. It must be my imagination or the sound from the locomotive.’ She mused as she started rolling her trunk towards the front of the train.

The voice came back again, louder and more strident causing her to spin around with her eyes wide and mouth dropping open in surprise. “Oi! Granger Danger, get your arse over here!”

Only one person in the world called her ‘Granger Danger!’ Hermione squealed with surprise when she spotted her best friend Lavender Brown hanging off the railing to a carriage waving her hand wildly and rushed over to her. "Why didn't you tell me you're a witch?!"

Lavender blushed, "I wasn't allowed to. Mum and Daddy said that unless I was sure, I had to keep magic a secret. Believe me, Hermione; I so wanted to." She helped Hermione drag her trunk into the compartment and flopped down on the bench, puffing a lock of hair out of her face.

Giving her best friend a strong hug of greeting, Hermione slid in next to her, "So, Hogwarts eh? It shouldn't be anything worse than the chaos that happened at St. Vincent's, right?"

Lavender grinned toothily, "Oh, I don't know about that. Remember what we did to Sister Dolores?"

"What happened?" Both girls turned to see their other compartment's occupant watching on curiously. The boy had the most gorgeous green eyes and unruly black hair. A nervous smile crept up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

Hermione waved it off, "It's no trouble. Sister Dolores was our school's cafeteria manager. Once, we got a hold of the school’s food order form. Let's just say that the school ate like queens for a week thanks to us." Both girls giggled at the memory.

Lavender pointed at the sketchpad in the boy's hands, "What are you drawing?"

Hermione interjected, "And what's your name? Mine's Hermione Granger and (pointing at her friend) this is Lavender Brown."

The boy handed over the pad, "I like to draw stuff, mostly clothing sketches. Things I'd like to see made someday. Oh, and my name is Harry. Harry Potter."

Both girls’ mouths dropped open again. Hermione squeaked, “Harry Potter? As in the famed Boy-Who-Lived as told in the latest edition of The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts?”

Harry scrunched up his face, “Yeah, no. I’ve seen those books and they’re filled with nothing but idiotic speculation. The idea that I’d be living in a blue castle tended to by someone named George and Rowena Potter? First, that’s a really oddly specific way to describe a castle, and anyone who’s lived in the magical world knows that there is no-one with those names in my family, at least not recently.”

Lavender tilted her head curiously, “Then what is the real story?”

Harry shrugged, “The real story is that I was raised by my maternal aunt and her husband in the town of Little Whinging, Surrey for the past ten years. I went to a non-magical school with my cousin, Dudley. I had no idea I was a wizard until that huge groundskeeper named Hagrid showed up to take me shopping for my school supplies.”

Hermione took in his appearance, “Why do you look like you’re dressed to go driving in a touring car?”

Harry smiled as he stood up to show off his outfit, “You like? I designed and made it myself. I’ve always liked the fashion style from the 1920s.” He sat back down to rummage through his bag and pulled out a sketch pad. “Here, this is from my Spring collection.”

“Spring collection?” Lavender’s curiosity was piqued. “Are you some kind of super artist or something?”

Harry’s eyes twinkled, “Ever hear of Potter’s Threads?”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open again as she squeaked, “Yes! It’s… I have…wait, you’re the…woah!”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, “Easy, Hermione. Breathe. Yes, I am the designer and creator of Potter’s Threads.”

Lavender turned her curiosity to her friend, “I don’t get it.”

Hermione dove for her trunk, opened it up, and began rummaging around for something. She pulled out a pair of holographic dungarees (bib overalls.) “Remember this? It’s my favorite pair and now I’m finding out that the designer is sitting here in front of me?!”

Lavender turned wide eyes onto a beaming Harry. “Woah, that’s wicked! So I take it that you’re pretty popular?”

Hermione thumped back down on the bench and stared at her friend incredulously, “How is it that you’ve never heard of him? He’s famous on sites like Instagram! I know I’ve mentioned him before.”

“How popular are you talking about? That’s weird that I don’t remember that.” Lavender pouted.

Hermione shook her head, “No idea, but he’s got about three and a half million followers.”

Harry scratched his cheek briefly, “Not to sound pompous, but I’ve also been featured in a few fashion magazines too. It seems that a child prodigy for something other than math or music is someone to be wowed over. Then you’ve got this magical thing going on.” He let out a snort of amusement. “I’m only eleven. Yes, it’s true that I’m good at what I do, but I’m still just a kid. I’m easily distracted by what my aunt calls ‘shiny things’ and have a hard time focusing on my school work whenever I get an idea pop into my head.”

The look of amazement of being in the same compartment with a fashion icon swam across Hermione’s face as she sat dizzily. Harry smirked when he asked, “So what’s the story behind the nickname ‘Granger Danger?’”

Lavender giggled at Hermione’s instant change of attitude. “I blame you for that, Buster Brown.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with laughter, “Buster Brown? Come on, spill it.”

Lavender cleared her throat primly, “When we first met, Hermione here was…let’s say, none too steady on her feet. She kept tripping over things even if they were clearly marked. It was our third year primary teacher who actually coined the phrase, “Be careful, Granger is a danger to all those around her.”

Harry snickered, “And Buster Brown?”

Hermione poked her friend in the arm, “Little Miss Purple here kept busting into places she wasn’t supposed to go because she was curious.”

Lavender rolled her eyes, “Mum thinks that was because of my magic. I’ve always been the curious sort.”

Harry snorted, “You don’t mind if I refer to you by your nicknames too?”

Both girls shook their heads. “Not at all. We just need to think of a good nickname for you too now.” At the sight of Harry’s slight pinking, Lavender nudged him with her foot. “What?”

“I got the nickname of ‘Hunky Harry’,” he admitted after a bit more prodding. “My aunt caught me posing in front of the mirror after making this suit.”

Both girls grinned at his admission.

Later, as the train raced north…

After getting the introductions and brief histories (birthdays, current townships, and whatnot) out of the way; Harry was showing off some of his brief experiments with magic (causing a spare bit of fabric to change from red to green) when their compartment door banged open. A redheaded boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose stuck his face in, “Oi, any of you know where Harry Potter is?”

Hermione gave him a disdainful sniff of disapproval for his rude entrance, “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Ron.”

“Ron…” She waved her hand as if to prompt him onwards.

“Oh, Ron Weasley. My mum said to keep an eye out for Harry to make sure he was safe from the nasty Slytherins.”

Harry shared a rolled-eyed look with the two girls, “I think I saw him just past the last car. If I understood him correctly, Potter said something about how nice it was for the Ministry to get him his own carriage.”

Ron’s face pinked, “Right. That makes sense… Well, if you happen to see him again; let him know that his mate, Ron Weasley is looking for him. Mum says that we’re going to be in Gryffindor together.”

Lavender piped up mischievously, “You really think the Great Harry Potter would be content to be in Gryffindor?”

Ron scowled at her, “Of course he would! Gryffindor’s the best house in the entire school!”

She waved him down, “I just meant that someone as famous as Harry Potter would be better off in a house just for him. I would wager that he’d get put in the Head Boy’s suite and be able to join whichever house his mood struck him as best that day.”

Ron’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he thought about it, “Yeah… that would make sense. Well, I’m going to see if I can still find him.” He disappeared without saying goodbye.

The three compartment riders shared a look of amusement for a brief moment before dissolving into a gale of giggles. Harry wiped his eyes, “And that ladies, is a prime example of what I’ve been going through since I got my letter. The patrons at the Leaky Cauldron were honestly embarrassing the way they stumbled over each other just to shake my hand. You’d think Merlin himself had come back to life.”

Hermione clutched her stomach from laughing so hard and wheezed, “I sure hope I’m not in the same house as him. What a moron!”

Lavender gestured at his forehead, “Do you still have the scar though?” Harry pushed his bangs out of the way to reveal the legendary scar. “Wow, you’d think it would’ve healed over by now.”

Harry shrugged unconcernedly, “No one understands why. It just is, and it’s one of the elements of my brand logo so I’m kind of used to it.”

Hermione giggled, “It kind of looks like Superman’s ‘S.’ Are you going to fly around in your underwear?”

Harry struck a heroic pose and gave them both a wink, “What do you think? Is it a bird? A plane? No, it’s Hunky Harry!”

Out in the hallway, if anyone cared, squeals of laughter rang out once more. Ron passed by again, confused why his mother seemed to be wrong about Harry being on the train.

Fifteen minutes later, the Honeydukes Express trolley lady came by. The three investigated the offerings and bought a few sweets to share with each other. Another five minutes passed before the door slid open to the presence of three boys. The middle one had slicked back blond hair, a pointed chin, and wearing clearly expensive-looking robes giving him the appearance of a well-to-do ferret. The other two boys had that enforcer-for-hire build and dull expressions on their faces.

Harry recognized the blond boy, “Hey, you’re Draco right? I remember you from Madam Malkins. Come on in and have a seat. Who’re your friends?”

Draco smiled pleasantly and gestured behind him, “To my left is Vincent Crabbe, my right is Greg Goyle. Thank you for the offer. (He pointed the two boys to the empty spots and took the seat next to Harry) Who are you riding companions?”

Harry gestured gracefully, “To the left is Miss Lavender Brown, and to the right is Miss Hermione Granger of Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire.”

Draco dipped his head respectfully, “Ladies, pleasure. As Potter… (Harry cleared his throat) As Harry has mentioned, my name is Draco. Draco Malfoy of Wiltshire, and I’ve already introduced my two friends.”

Hermione waved shyly, “Why do you keep talking like that?”

Draco blinked curiously, “Like what?”

“Like you’re some kind of royalty.”

Again with the confused blinking, as if what she said required intense scrutiny. “Because…that’s the way it’s always been done?”

Harry chuckled understandingly, “Hermione, what you have to remember is that Magical Britain really hasn’t progressed much past the turn of the previous century. They still have servants for everything, send letters by owls, and learn by candlelight!”

Lavender nodded sagely, “Yeah, my parents have said the same thing ever since I got my letter. Believe me, it was a shock to learn that Hogwarts was still so antiquated!”

Greg ventured, “Are your parents magical too?”

Lavender nodded, “Yeah, both of them. I guess you could call me a muggle-raised pureblood. My dad is a computer systems analyst and my mum runs her own beauty supply company.”

Greg was clearly confused by the description of Lavender’s dad’s job, “I get the beauty supply thing, but what is a compooter system anal-something?”

Lavender and Hermione giggled (Harry just smirked). “In basic terms, a computer system analyst is someone who studies an organization's current computer systems and design ways to improve efficiency. A computer is a digital machine that can be programmed to automatically carry out sequences of arithmetic or logical operations repeatedly and accurately unlike a person who would subconsciously allow errors to creep in either through boredom or inattention.”

Vincent tilted his head, “This is a normal job for the muggle world?”

Lavender shrugged, “It takes a fair of amount of schooling to become proficient but it’s not one of those ultra-rare jobs. Why? What do your parents do?”

Draco pointed to himself, “My father is a wealthy businessman and has the ear of the Minister for Magic himself.”

Both Vincent and Greg professed that they really didn’t know what their fathers did. “Something to do with farm equipment,” explained Vincent.

“What about your mums?” Harry asked.

All three boys shrugged indifferently. “Something to do with their social circles, I’d imagine,” Draco admitted. “Oh, Harry. Before I forget again, I wanted to thank you for your suggestion on where to find those boots the seamstress at Malkin’s had spoken about. They’re really comfortable. Who knew the muggles had any concept of fashion?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Considering that up until a month and a half ago I was one of those muggles? I’d say it was highly likely.” He distractedly picked up a box containing a Chocolate Frog and opened it. The charmed frog inside tried to make a break for it but Greg snatched it out of the air and handed it back. “Thanks, Greg. These things still surprise me.” He pulled the card out as he bit off the head of the frog to the squeak of disgust from Hermione. “What?”

“You bit the head off the frog.”

He looked down at the chocolate, “Yeah, but it’s not a real frog. Oh, hey! I got a Dumbledore card.”

Draco scoffed, “I’ve got a dozen of those. It amuses my father that I like to use them as coasters for my drinks. My father and he are always at odds with each other over just about everything, you see.”

Harry calmly dropped the card on the side table. “If anyone wants it, feel free. I’ve got no use for it. So, Hogwarts…which House are you hoping to go into?”

Hermione replied that she was considering either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Lavender thought she might like to go into Gryffindor. Draco, Greg, and Vince all stated that they would be going into Slytherin since that’s where their families were traditionally sorted.

Harry chuckled, “Well then, maybe I ought to see if I can get sorted into Hufflepuff just so we have all four Houses represented here.” His comment drew a short round of laughter.

Draco gave Hermione an evaluative look, “Granger, are you in any way related to the Dagworth-Granger family?”

Hermione shrugged, “No idea. I didn’t even know about magic until Professor McGonagall showed up at our house a year ago. She said it had to be done that way since my birthday was past the cut-off date for a student to join that year. No-one in my family has ever shown any signs of being magical before.”

Lavender took her friend’s hand, “That you know of. In all likelihood, at least according to my mum, is that for a child to suddenly show signs of magic, there had to have been someone in the family history that was a witch or wizard. You can’t suddenly create a magical child from nothing, you know.”

Hermione bobbed her head in agreement, “That’s what the professor hinted at. Both of my parents are muggle dentists. As far as I know, we have older family members who act sort of strange. Remember Aunt Gladys, Lav? She always wore the most outlandish costumes in public. Neither of my parents really talk about them. To answer your question, Draco; I consider myself to be a muggleborn until proven otherwise.”

Draco seemed to pull back a bit, the pleasant look in his eyes appeared to vanish, “Well, if you’ll excuse us? We still need to make our rounds of our other friends.” Without even giving a goodbye, he and the other two boys exited the compartment.

Hermione shared a worried glance with her two friends, “Was it something I said?”

About an hour before their estimated arrival to the school, Harry was on his way back from the loo when he discovered a toad sitting in a corner croaking to itself. He gently scooped it up and peered at its face, “If you aren’t careful, you’re going to get stepped on. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere safe.” He carried it back to his compartment where the two girls were dozing off. Lavender perked up at the sight of the toad. Harry noticing her reaction recalled the circumstances of their meeting. “Hopefully, his human will be by to find him.”

Sure enough, the door opened up again to admit a slightly pudgy boy with sandy-blonde hair. “Excuse me, have any of you found…Trevor!” He held out his hands for the toad. “Thank you for finding him! He keeps trying to escape.” The boy stuffed the toad back into his pocket.

Harry grinned, “It was no problem. Come and join us?” He waved the boy to an empty space. “Introductions, my name’s Harry. This is Lavender (she smiled) and Hermione (she waved.)”

The boy greeted each in turn, “My name’s Neville Longbottom. Thank you again for finding Trevor. My Gran would’ve killed me if I’d have lost him.”

“Have you had him long?” Lavender inquired.

Neville shook his head, “My Uncle Algie gave me him right before I left for Hogwarts. I know I should’ve left him in my greenhouse but Gran wouldn’t let me make a stop before leaving for the train station. She seems to think that I would’ve gotten distracted in there.”

Harry laughed, “You fancy yourself a green thumb? Cool, I’m the same way about fashion design.”

Neville looked at him curiously, “Fashion design?”

Harry bobbed his head and reached for his bag, “I had a couple of catalogs done up when I learned that electronics and magic don’t react well together. I’ve got a foot-powered sewing machine in my trunk too. My aunt says that it’s a load of hogwash since Diagon Alley is in the heart of London and they don’t seem to have a problem.” He handed over the glossy catalogs to the two eager girls and Neville who blinked in surprise.

“You drew all of these?”

Harry beamed proudly, “And made each one.” Neville just stared at him in awe.

“Harry? How do we go about ordering… oh, here’s the form, never mind,” Hermione started then answered her own question.

Hogwarts

After meeting up with Hagrid who took the first years from the platform to the Black Lake where they rode in small boats across the water to a dock then began the climb up a series of stairs. Hagrid pounded on a door which opened to reveal an older witch wearing green robes with a stern look on her face. “Thank you, Hagrid; I’ll take it from here. Follow me.”

Harry dug out his camera from his bag and fired off a couple of quick shots of the entrance hall. He sheepishly put it away at the bemused look from the witch. “Sorry.”

The witch led them to a small room off the main hallway. “Welcome to Hogwarts, my name is Professor McGonagall. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.” She shared a small smile with a couple of the kids in the front row. “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. “I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.” She left the chamber.

Harry swallowed, “Any idea how we’re supposed to get sorted?”

Hermione shook her head, “There wasn’t anything of note in Hogwarts, A History.”

Lavender’s hands trembled slightly, “No, my parents were unusually quiet about it.”

Neville fought with his cloak, “Gran mentioned something about a magical hat that was able to look into our minds and sort us based on our personality.” He stuttered to a stop when he finally noticed the other kids staring at him. He sheepishly continued, “Gran’s not the sort to prolong the mystery. She’s much too straight-laced to believe in that ‘nonsense’ as she puts it.”

Professor McGonagall returned a few minutes later, “We’re ready for you. Follow me.”

Great Hall

“Click, click, click.” Harry snapped off a few shots with his camera at the ceiling and the room around him. There had to be hundreds of candles flickering and floating in the air above them yet none of them dripped any wax upon their heads. The ceiling seemed to extend forever into the night sky. He overheard Hermione commenting that it was charmed to look like that. He turned to her and grinned, “I bet there’s nothing you don’t know in that history book.”

Hermione blushed cutely. Lavender teasingly poked her friend in the side, “That’s our Hermione. She’s a one-stop walking encyclopedia of everything interesting and then some.” She laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed at her friend’s joke.

The group assembled in front of the Teacher’s table where an old frayed wizard’s hat rested on a short stool and began to sing a song about the attributes of the four houses. When it was done, Professor McGonagall pulled out a roll of parchment and announced to the group, “When I call your name, you will come up and sit on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head where it will determine your House. Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause -- "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!" "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!" "RAVENCLAW!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too.

"Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor; Hermione squealed with joy and threw up her hands. “Go, Go, Buster Brown!”

On and on the names went until, "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry whistled in cheer, “Go, Go, Granger Danger!” Lavender joined in with the excited chanting causing Hermione to break out in an epic blush as she raced to join her friend.

When Neville Longbottom was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag.” (Ravenclaw!)

The names continued; Draco was sorted into Slytherin almost before the hat was properly on his head. A pair of twin girls, first Padma got into Ravenclaw then her twin Parvati got into Gryffindor. Next, Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Hufflepuff then it was finally Harry’s name that was called.

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

“The Harry Potter?"

Harry just rolled his eyes as he sat down on the stool. The hat dropped down over his head. “Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?"

“Which House is the one for aspiring artists?” Harry asked the voice.

“Ah, yes. I can see…goodness, those outfits are gorgeous if I say so. I do appreciate a good bonnet every now and then.” (Harry sniggered at the thought of the Hat getting together with a frilly bonnet) “Now, now, everyone deserves a chance at romance. You’ll understand when you’re older. So, where to put you?”

A slow smile crept across Harry’s face, a thought that was picked up by the Hat who chortled, “Ah, that would be funny for a moment, but I fear if I announce it; it would cause many people to have heart attacks or bouts of confusion if I were to sort you into an unknown House. House of Dior, honestly. I doubt even our Muggle Studies professor knows who that is.”

“Awww… Okay, fine. To be honest, it doesn’t matter to me which House I get sorted into. I don’t have the history to be any sort of judge one way or the other. Now, since I do get a say where I’ll be staying for the next seven years, how about sorting me with my friends? I really like Lavender, Hermione, and Neville. All three went into Gryffindor.”

Great Hall…

Everyone waited on tenterhooks for the Hat to make its decision. Time seemed to crawl as they waited. The Hat’s brim opened up, “Better be… Better be… GRYFFINDOR!”

The entire room erupted into cheers, none more so than the House of the Lions. A pair of older redheaded twins jumped and started dancing, chanting, “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

Harry pulled the Hat from his head and calmly gazed out amongst the riotous assembly. He held up his hands and waited for the room to quiet down. “I must admit that it was a surprise. I kept arguing with the Hat to put me into Slytherin since that’s the house for those with ambition which is something I seem to have in spades. (Looks of utter surprise blossomed on the faces of those wearing the silver and green.) There was also a brief argument about getting into Hufflepuff as that’s the House of the Artists, Dreamers, and Magic Makers (the Puffs looked pleased with that description.) I did look into joining Ravenclaw as I do enjoy reading (those of the Blue and Bronze looked proud), but the Hat finally convinced me that Gryffindor would be the way to go. I hope that everyone here will allow me to get settled for a week or so before introducing yourselves. This is a lot to take in, especially for an eleven-year-old. Thank you.”

He stepped down and hurried off to join the others. The silence in the room was deafening before a lone clap was heard. That one was joined by another and before long, the entire student assembly were applauding, a few catcalling and whistling. The redheaded twins started up the chant of “Potter! Potter! Potter!” while banging their fists on the table.

It took the headmaster a few minutes to get everyone to calm down so they could finish the sorting. When Ron Weasley’s name was called and sorted into Gryffindor, both Hermione and Lavender groaned under their breaths.

Ron quickly joined the others in his year group by forcefully trying to squeeze in between Harry and Neville. “Come on, budge over!” He was immediately hoisted up by his twin brothers who dragged him down to the end where there was a tiny space next to them.

Harry let out an aggrieved sigh, “One thousand three hundred and thirty three days and counting…"

Gryffindor Tower

Harry finished pulling his pajamas out of his trunk and headed for the bathroom where he found his dorm mate Dean Thomas brushing his teeth. “Dean.”

“Harry. Quite the spectacle earlier. What was that all about?”

Harry glanced behind him to see if anyone else was eavesdropping, “I had a chat with my Goblin account manager who told me about the reception I would receive and what might happen depending on where I got sorted. We decided that I should thank the other three houses for the opportunity to join them but end with…well, what I said about being talked into joining Gryffindor. This way, no one can think of me being a ‘snot-nosed brat’.”

“You act like you’ve come across this sort of thing before,” Dean observed.

Harry nodded sagely, “Every time that Fashion Week starts up. I’ll get promoters coming out of the woodwork trying to get me to join or support them for one thing or another. Thank heavens for my aunt who’s also my manager. She screens out all of the real loonies, and teaches me about the ones that are worth looking into.”

Dean cocked his head, “Fashion week? Are you some sort of model?”

Harry chuckled, “No, I design clothes. I own ‘Potter’s Threads’.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “No kidding? My little sisters love your clothes. Mum likes them too because they don’t show off a lot of skin or have nasty messages written on them.”

Harry nodded sagely, “She’s afraid of her daughters growing up too quickly and sending the wrong impression, right? I hear that a lot about my designs and about how refreshing it is to find a designer even as young as me, that is intent on modernizing the older styles for today’s discerning woman or girl.”

First week class montage

Looking back, Harry recounted that the theory side of magic wasn’t too different from his muggle school. There were a lot of notes to be taken, vocabulary to recite, and new concepts to learn. What set it apart was the fact that when he waved his wand in a specific pattern, spoke a few incantations, and focused on his magic; wondrous things would occur, or spectacularly fail if he got it wrong. It was funny to see the expressions on everyone’s faces whenever he got something wrong. ‘You’d think that they expected me to be fully trained in obscure magic since I was a toddler.’

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had them converting a matchstick into a needle (It took Harry only two times before he figured out how, earning him three points from the teacher and a rare smile. “Good job, Mr. Potter. You’re as quick as your father was.”)

In Charms, the tiny professor Filius Flitwick had them learning how to cast a Light spell which would cause the tip of their wands’ to illuminate. Harry got curious after successfully lighting his wand by making his fingertip to light up. He leant over and gently touched Hermione’s forehead while whispering, “I… will… be… right… here…” Her snorts of laughter caught the attention of the class and the professor. Harry sheepishly apologized, “Sorry, I was reenacting a scene from a movie my cousin and I like to watch occasionally.” The other muggleborns in the class laughed when they got the reference while the rest stared in bewilderment.

Even in their broom flying class, people kept expecting incredible talents from him. The Gryffindors trooped out to the quad where they found the other first year Slytherins already waiting for them. Harry examined the brooms with a bit of trepidation. “Not in very good condition, are they?”

Neville agreed with him, “I heard that every time that the topic is brought up, the headmaster says there’s no money to replace the lot.”

Lavender scowled, “Then where is the money our parents pay going to?”

Vincent wandered over, “Hey Harry. I had to come over to get away from Draco droning on about his ‘adventures.’ He just keeps going on about flying if you let him.”

Over with the other Slytherins, Draco certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though; the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

“What about you, Harry?” Vincent asked. “You ever been out flying?”

Harry shook his head, “Not in the way you’re thinking of, probably. I’ve taken a few flights to visit Paris for a fashion show or two. There was one time that my family and I went to the United States to visit Disneyworld.”

Dean’s eyes lit up, “I’ve always wanted to go there.” He went on to describe what he knew of the park to the interested magically-raised listening in.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called ‘Quidditch Through the Ages.’ Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Realistically, the only four classes that Harry had any issues with were Astronomy, History, Defense, and Potions. Astronomy because of the ungodly hour in which they had to be up at night to look at the sky (“Hasn’t anyone heard of a planetarium before?” he griped to a yawning Dean.) History was being ‘taught’ by a ghost that in any other situation seemed like a great idea. “Honestly, you’d think that someone who lived through that era would be more interesting!” Not so with Professor Cuthbert Binns, the ghost who put the droning of a Hoover to shame. In Defense, the professor had a terrible stutter that made following along with his lessons, let alone taking notes almost impossible. That coupled with the overwhelming stench of garlic that emanated from his turban left everyone gasping for fresh air as they dashed from the room.

Then there was Potions class…

Friday

Harry waited with the other Gryffindors outside of the potions laboratory. In the corner of his eye he spotted a large cat sauntering down the hallway. He knelt down to let it sniff his fingers before petting it gently behind its ears. “You’re a nice kitty, aren’t you?”

“That’s Mrs. Norris and she’s a right terror according to my brothers.” He heard Ron scoff.

Harry shot him a dirty look before returning to his petting, “Don’t listen to what the mean little boy is saying, Mrs. Norris. You’re just doing your best to keep the kittens in line, aren’t you?” Judging by her loud purring, Mrs. Norris was agreeing with Harry’s praise and grasp of her efforts.

The door to the classroom opened up as Professor Severus Snape stepped out. He spared a look of disdain at Harry still kneeling and petting the cat before issuing his order, “Inside.”

The students filed in and found their seats quickly. Harry immediately took out a fresh piece of paper and his quill to take notes; the others around him followed suit.

Snape, like the other teachers, started the class by taking the roll call, and like the others, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity."

Harry didn’t respond, he just held his quill expectantly.

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even putting a stopper in death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Neville exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Lavender poked her in the side causing the girl to squeak and glare at her friend.

"Potter!" Snape called out suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry reached for his notebook and rifled through the pages. “Pitiful. You need to refer to a book.” Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

That one Harry knew, “There are a couple of places you can find one. If you live on or near a magically-raised farm, you can harvest it from the stomach of a goat. If you live in or near a city, you can stop in at the apothecary and pick one up for a reasonable price.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed but refrained from commenting on the answer given.  "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

“Different names given to the same plant, sir.”

Severus held his penetrating stare into Harry’s eyes. Whether or not he found what he was looking for, Severus turned to the others and growled, “For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they’re the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" The others scrambled to write down his words.

The rest of the class was given over to attempting to brew an acceptable Boil cure paste. As everyone began rummaging around in the supply cabinet, a few muggleborns (Harry included) remained where they were. Severus noticed and growled, “Do you need me to hold your hands? Get started!”

Dean raised his hand, “Sir, you haven’t gone over the safety lecture.”

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet to Antarctic levels. Severus stormed over to a visibly nervous Dean. “What did you say?”

Dean gulped, “In every class where dangerous chemicals or equipment is to be used, a safety lecture is supposed to be given by the instructor to make sure the students are aware of the dangers inherent with their usage.” He held up the ‘Student’s Guidebook to Potion Making’ that he’d picked up from the bookshop.

Severus snatched it out of his hands and vanished it with a wave of his wand. “Do not presume to tell me how to run my class! The instructions are on the board, the cupboard of ingredients are over there, and you will begin…Now.”

Silence reigned amongst the students, and especially from the muggleborn. Harry caught the eye of the others and tapped his wristwatch. They subtly nodded in agreement; a meeting was needed to deal with this.

After classes…

Dean was clearly shaking with nerves as he and the others left the laboratory. Harry reached out and gently took him by the arm, “Come on, let’s go see the Deputy Headmistress to report the professor for misconduct and destruction of property.” The girls crowded around Dean to offer their support.

Dean however shook his head, “I’ve heard stories that it doesn’t matter what gets reported about Snape. The headmaster seems to cover for him and refuses to hear anything bad said about the professor. No one around here seems to actually care enough to do anything.”

Hermione bristled, “What? How is that right? He’s a teacher and should be held accountable!”

“Just let it be, everyone. It’s just something we need to get used to here. It’s not the first time I’ve been targeted for harassment.” Dean pushed his way clear and shuffled his way down the hallway.

Harry growled, “It’s still not right.”

Saturday morning

Harry awoke bright and early with the desire to get some sewing done. After going through his morning routine, he opened up his trunk and pulled out the sewing machine stand. He positioned it next to his desk then went back to get the sewing machine out. A quick placement to mount it in its positioning holes, attaching the drive belt (and a quick test to make sure it was all still working); Harry rifled through his sketches before choosing a pattern for a girls’ size 11.5. The pattern he’d gone with was a hip-hugging, flared-leg pair of trousers with two deep hip pockets, loops to clip a keychain to, a single button front closure and zipper fly. A pair of suspenders would finish it off. For the shirt, he flipped through his options and settled on a simple button-down front Linen blouse with a wide lapel and angel sleeves in a Gryffindor red. The fabric he chose for the trousers were a rich chocolate brown.

Getting up again, he set up his drafting table he managed to transfigure from a sheet of paper. From his trunk, he opened up the storage feature specifically set aside for his crafting and dug around for his supplies. To his annoyance, the only colors of fabric he had for the trousers were basic blue denim and cotton/polyester weave in brilliant yellow. “Well, if that’s the only colors I have… Wait a minute. Am I a wizard or not?”

He got up and hurried down the stairs into the common room where he sought out one of the prefects. “Excuse me?”

Percy Weasley looked up from his studying. “What’s wrong, Mr. Potter?”

“When charming fabric to change color, will the chosen color stay permanently or will it change back after a while?”

Of all the questions to be asked, this one didn’t even come close to the chart. Percy made a humming noise, “What is this for?”

Harry waved back up to his dorm, “I think it’d be easier if I just showed you.” Percy got up and followed him up to the first year dorms where Harry showed him the issue with wanting a rich chocolate brown but only having denim blue and a brilliant yellow. “If I used a color changing charm, would it stay in the new color or will it eventually change back?”

Percy nodded his understanding, “At this point in your education, the colors will eventually return to their starting color simply because you do not have the necessary power to make it permanent. Now, you do have the option of using runes to make it permanent but unless you’ve been instructed on how to apply them, I would wait until later or have a teacher do it.”

Harry slumped down and puffed a lock of hair out of his face, “Well, shoot… Okay, thank you.” Percy patted him on the shoulder then departed. “I suppose blue denim does go with just about anything these days.” He returned to his trunk and extracted the dressmaker dummy his uncle had bought for him for his ninth birthday and got to work draping and pinning the fabric.

Dean heard the whirring of a sewing machine as he quietly entered the dorm room in search of his football. He spotted Harry diligently working away at some kind of outfit, “Alright there, Harry?”

“So far. This foot-powered sewing machine is touchy but I’m managing. I can’t wait to get home to my normal equipment,” Harry replied as he plucked a pin from a spot and slipped it into his wrist-mounted pincushion and continued sewing.

“Who’s that going to be for?”

“No idea, but I made it to fit a first year girl. I just hope whoever gets it will appreciate a red blouse.”

Dean laughed, “For one of your outfits? I doubt they’d care if it was covered in a Slytherin motif.”

Harry smiled as he paused to shift the sleeve of the blouse to work on the cuffs, “I have fabric like that back home.”

Dean chuckled and left him to it.

That evening at dinner…

Harry glanced up and down the four tables pondering who’d he’d want to give the outfit to. There were many possibilities. He smirked as he pulled out his camera and snapped off a candid shot of Hermione balancing a tomato on her nose while being egged on by Lavender and Parvati. As he was winding the reel to the next stop, he paused to consider how many images he’d taken of the girl. ‘Sheesh, I must have at least ten! What is it about Hermione Granger that is so fascinating?’ So far, he’d taken a picture of her studying in the library, staring in awe at a unicorn, practicing her magic, and making faces at the camera the one time she’d caught him trying to sneak off a shot.

Hermione wasn’t the only subject of his photography campaign. He’d taken photos of the Quidditch pitch from atop one of the spectator stands, the Black Lake at sunset, the castle itself, he got a picture of a surprised Neville as the boy had come out of the greenhouse. There was a picture of Professors Flitwick and McGonagall (the former had a wide smile going while the latter had a slightly amused look on her face.) He even got a couple of shots of the castle ghosts (Sir Nick was appreciative while Moaning Myrtle looked at him oddly before flushing herself down the toilet.) The only one he was hesitant to take a picture of was the Bloody Baron. The menacing ghost gave him such a foreboding feeling that it was difficult to remain in his presence for very long.

The bench he was sitting on creaked a little bit as Neville joined him. “What’s with the look, Harry?”

Harry blinked, “What look? This is my face, it’s not a look.”

Neville cracked up laughing, “Then it’s a weird looking face. Seriously, what’s rumbling around in that head of yours?”

Harry shrugged, “Nothing really. I was just thinking about the pictures I’ve taken since getting here.”

Neville sagely nodded, “Ah, and how many of them have Hermione taking center stage?”

Harry stuck his tongue out at his friend, “Only a couple.”

“Sure it’s only a couple. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that you were in love with her. Is that it, Harry? Are you in love with Hermione?” Neville teased him.

“You do realize that we’re both only eleven? She’s still at the ‘girls are weird’ stage.”

Laughing, Neville gave him a playful look, “How do you know the difference?”

Harry shot his friend with a disdainful huff, “Nev? I’m a fashion designer. I’m around women and girls all the time.”

Ron appeared across from them and immediately started loading his plate with food. He waved a chicken leg in Harry’s direction. “Why’re you wasting your time making girls’ clothes, Harry? That’s women’s work.”

Harry wiped a tiny glob of grease that had been flung from Ron’s chicken leg off his sleeve, “Ron, eat first then talk. You move around too much and you’re getting gunk all over the place. For your information, I make a really good living making clothes for people, and I’ve sold several dozen outfits to highly placed famous celebrities around the world.”

Ron’s response was garbled as he tried to speak with a mouthful of chicken. Both Harry and Neville were disgusted by the display. Neville gagged, “If you’re going to eat here, Weasley; learn to eat like a civilized human being.”

Fred and George appeared a split second later. George gave his younger brother a disgusted look, “You’d think that he’d never had food before the way he’s shoving it down his throat.”

Fred agreed, “Too right, my demented other half. One would even think that perhaps our mother did something wrong during his formative years.”

Harry joined in, “One would wonder just what your mother would think if she got a letter from someone outside the family who expressed disgust by the way her youngest son was behaving in public. Would she come up to the school to voice her displeasure?”

Both twins shuddered, “Indeed she would, and loudly. That’s a harsh lesson for anyone, Harrikins.”

Harry glared pointedly at a pink-eared Ron, “But one that might be necessary in case someone forgets their manners when dining in public. Excuse me, but I feel the need to eat with people.” He dropped his serviette on the table and stalked off.

At the Slytherin table…

Draco watched as Harry stormed off after saying something to the Weasley spawn and head towards the Ravenclaw table, “Hey Harry!” When Harry turned in his direction, Draco waved him over. “What’s wrong?”

Harry let out a heavy sigh, “Nothing that needs to be aired in public, Draco. You got an extra space for me to sit? Ron made it necessary for me to leave halfway through my dinner.”

Draco waved him to a spot opposite, “Go ahead. You do realize that you’re making history right now, right?”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, for one: you’re speaking with me without resorting to insults. Two, a Gryffindor sitting with Slytherins? Three, you are remarkably normal despite your upbringing and hype.”

Harry raised a curious eyebrow, “Insults? When have I started insulting you? As for the upbringing and hype, I’m going to assume that means something different here in the magical community than it does back home.”

Draco waved back towards the Gryffindor table, "I overheard Weasley telling everyone who stood still long enough that you're only attempting to befriend me to find out my Slytherin secrets to drive out all of the slimy snakes."

Harry scoffed derisively, "Redheaded mouthy idiot. Ignore him."

A blonde girl with ice-blue eyes leant over, “Rumor has it that you were raised by muggles. As for the hype…”

Harry bobbed his head as he took a bite of the roast beef he’d picked. Swallowing, he replied, “Right, the hype. Don’t believe everything you hear, Miss Greengrass. (He bowed his head when she allowed him to call her Daphne.) Let’s think about it for a moment, what is more likely? I, at about fifteen months old, managed to somehow use some arcane magical powers to get rid of what’s-his-face or perhaps more than likely it was the result of whatever my fully-trained parents managed to accomplish?”

The others chuckled when he put it like that. Daphne replied, “So are the rumors true then? Were you raised by muggles?”

Harry bobbed his head, “Totally true, though there is some speculation between my aunt and uncle if she has any sort of magical talent since she’s able to see the Leaky Cauldron’s entrance.”

Eyebrows disappeared into hairlines. Another girl with an upturned nose whispered, “Maybe your aunt is a Squib? That would explain why her parents never sent her to Hogwarts. They couldn’t bear the shame.”

Harry frowned, “Why is being a Squib looked down upon? Just because they can’t use a wand doesn’t mean that they can’t perform magic. My aunt is a wonderful cook. Take the ingredients to a basic sponge cake and ask yourself; would you eat any of the individual components? No, but when you combine them in the right amounts and bake it in the oven; surprise, surprise! Magic happens and it becomes a delicious cake!”

A couple of the older students listening in laughed at his comment. Harry waved his hand desultorily, “See? Magic is what you make of it. I make magic every time I start sewing where the end result is a beautiful outfit.”

A larger first year by the name of Millicent Bulstrode gestured at his outfit, “So you made that? I heard that you make your own clothes.”

Harry nodded, “I do. I also have my own fashion line in the muggle world. It’s a shame that I can’t access the Net here so I can show off my collection.”

Frowns of confusion warred across their faces. Draco spoke first, “Net? What kind of net?”

Harry sighed, “Okay, are any of you familiar with the concept of electricity? (They shook their heads no.) Then it would be extraordinarily difficult for me to explain. Wait a minute.” He got up and headed up to the teacher’s table where the Muggle Studies teacher sat conversing with someone. “Professor Burbage? I was wondering if your classroom had internet access.”

Professor Charity Burbage sadly shook her head, “No, it’s something I’ve been pressing for but the Board of Directors and the Headmaster refuse to grant me. They say that this school has no business messing around with that ‘muggle nonsense.’”

Harry sucked on his cheek, “Then how are you able to teach Muggle Studies without accessing the Net?”

Charity shrugged and held up her hands in defeat, “I can only teach from outdated books because again, the Board and Headmaster feel that there’s nothing that the muggles could ever possibly teach us.”

“That…sucks, professor. Okay, thank you.” He headed back to the Slytherins. “Tell you what. If you’re all done with dinner, why don’t you join me up in my dorm so I can show you at least a sample of what I’m able to do?”

The Slytherin table occupants stared at him in shock. An older student named Elizabeth Tuttle nearly choked on her salad, “You’re inviting us into Gryffindor House?”

Harry gave her a look of curiosity, “Sure, why not?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “It’s just not done. Slytherins and Gryffindors hate each other.”

Harry scoffed, “I don’t get why that is. Listen, I’m not expecting all of you to come up. I think the others in my House would probably think you’re staging an invasion to steal their socks. (Blaise Zabini started coughing with laughter) But as long as you’re polite, I can’t imagine it would be a problem.”

Draco slapped his hand on the table, “Well, count me in. I’m curious to know what you get up to in that tower of yours.” All of the other first years agreed with his sentiment. A couple of the older years joined in as well so they and Harry rose to their feet and led them out of the Great Hall.

The climb took them a few minutes when Harry was faced with his first challenge: getting them past the Fat Lady portrait. “They’re not Gryffindors!”

Harry snarked back, “Good catch, now can you tell me what number I’m thinking of? Honestly, I’m inviting them up as guests. Will you open up or will you be the one to assign blame for embarrassing Gryffindor House?”

The Fat Lady’s face pinked with embarrassment, “Fine, on your head be it!” The portrait unlocked and swung open. As they entered, Draco remarked at how difficult it must be to try and think with all that red.

Harry grinned, “It takes a bit of effort, come on.” He led them up into the first year dorm where he had his fashion studio set up. “As you can see, it’s just like the sort of arrangement you’d see in either Madam Malkin’s or at Twilfitt and Tattings.” He pointed to the outfit he’d made that day. “This is my most recent creation. I had originally wanted the trousers to be in a rich chocolate brown but all I had was this blue denim or an eye-watering yellow. I don’t know enough magic to use the color-changing charm.”

Greg was looking around, and peered out of the window. “I’m starting to wish I’d been sorted here if this is the sort of view you get. The only windows we have is looking into the lake.”

Harry was surprised, “Into the lake? So you get an aquarium-view of the lake? That sounds cool.”

Greg waggled his hand, “Yeah, but the light is tinted a faint green because of it and leaves you wondering just how strong the glass is.”

Elizabeth Tuttle had joined them and was fingering the fabric on the blouse, internally impressed by the quality of the stitching. “Even during the Grindlewald war against the muggles, with all of their bombing; the window into the lake has held. If I recall correctly, the enchantments are built into the school’s protective ward system. Who were you planning on selling this to? Do you work on commission?”

Harry nodded, “I do, and I have a catalog around here somewhere.” He dug into his trunk’s storage section for a moment before pulling it out and handing it over. “This is my last one so you’ll need to share for now. As for this outfit, I designed it to fit a size 11.5 so it’ll probably fit most of the first year girls.” Millie looked saddened by that so he spoke quietly, “I design for a variety of sizes and the factory I contract with makes them to order so there shouldn’t be a problem.” She brightened at his explanation.

Later that evening…

The whole of Gryffindor House was in attendance to discuss the frankly shocking news that Harry Potter had invited Slytherins into their tower! Ron was glaring at him. Dean, Seamus, and Neville had chosen Harry’s side and stood next to him in defiance of the others. Hermione, Lavender, and Sophie Roper, another muggleborn also stood with Harry.

Percy began the meeting by accusing him of behaving improperly. “What were you thinking, Mr. Potter? Slytherins have no business being in our tower, just as we have no business being anywhere near their territory. Snakes and Lions do not associate with each other.”

Harry defiantly crossed his arms over his chest, “There is nothing I found in the rules that say we can’t invite people up. I’ve seen others invite Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff inside, so why not Slytherins?”

Percy let out a frustrated sigh, “Because they’re the enemy. You’re too young to understand, but this is the way things have been since the founding of the school. This is your only warning about this. No more Slytherins are allowed into our tower.” He shook his head in disgust and stalked away leaving a completely confused Harry behind.

A third year approached him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, “You’ll adjust, Harry. Everyone has these feelings in the beginning but eventually, it’ll just become second nature.”

Harry looked up at him with storm-filled eyes, “What if I don’t want to? Why does something have to continue simply because that’s the way it was done in the past? Why is this school so afraid of change?”

The Following Saturday

Harry sat at his desk composing a letter to his aunt and uncle. His owl, Hedwig sat on his dresser waiting for him to finish. Outside, he could hear Hermione and Lavender jointly singing something in the key of ‘Off.’

Dear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon;

Greetings from Hogwarts, or as I like to call it ‘the School of What-Just-Happened and How-Did-You-Do-That.’ I’ve settled in pretty good in the past couple of weeks. I’ve made a few friends and discovered that I’m actually related to some of the kids here through distant connections. Some of my classes are going good, some of the others aren’t (not from a lack of trying!)

My biggest issue here is that Hogwarts just isn’t living up to the hype. In the past two weeks, a friend of mine was bullied for no other reason than for who she was born to. The bullies called her a ‘mudblood’ which I was later told the same as calling a black person the N-word. There were two teachers who clearly overheard the insults yet did nothing to stop it! Another problem is that those classes which aren’t going well. One is taught by a ghost who talks about one subject, has no clue that we’re in the room, and drones like a Hoover. Then there’s the flying class. The brooms we’re forced to learn on are in terrible condition. My friend Neville fell off of his when it suddenly decided to quit working, dumping him on the ground from about thirty feet in the air. He was lucky that he was flying over grass otherwise he could’ve been killed. As it was, he broke his wrist and had to be taken to the hospital.

The other class I’m having problems in is taught by a man with a terrible stutter and seemingly no concept of bathing. His entire wardrobe and the classroom stinks like someone painted the walls with garlic juice. Finally, the potions class is being taught by a hateful man by the name of Severus Snape. Yes, that one from your stories about mum, Aunt Petunia. He’s even worse in person; he took points away for breathing too loudly! I was breathing that loud because of all the noxious fumes from the recipe we were brewing was giving off. If you are wondering why we’re not using protection, it’s because ‘Professor’ Snape will take more points off and throw insults at you for daring to mention it. He even destroyed a student’s copy of the Student’s Guidebook for pointing out in the first lesson that Snape hadn’t covered the safety lecture yet.

Aunt Petunia, I’ll give it until the term ends, but there has to be another school I can go to learn magic. Please see what you can find out. Hogwarts just isn’t worth the hassle.

Love,

Harry.

P.S. It’s not just hateful words that are being thrown at the muggleborns. I’ve seen some of the bullies casting harmful magic at them too even in full view of the teachers. Oh,  I’m enclosing the photos I took of the castle and its people. Say hi to Dudley for me.

<enclosed 30 pictures>

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Finding a Hole in the Fabric

Still Saturday 11 September, 2021; Dursley Residence

Petunia Dursley was lounging on the couch browsing through her favorite online gossip site when Hedwig fluttered in through the window and landed on the perch set up in the living room. It took her a moment to register that the owl had arrived, “Hedwig? What brings you by?”

Hedwig held out her leg with Harry’s letter still attached to it. “Brek.”

Petunia carefully untied it and set it down on the table, “Let’s get you situated first. What are you in the mood for? I’ve got a bit of ham leftover from yesterday or would you prefer some fish?” Hedwig hooted for the second option so Petunia fixed up a plate of fish chunks and a cup of water next to her perch. “There you go. So let’s see what’s gotten Harry all fired up about. Ooh, this envelope looks like it has pictures!”  She eagerly opened the package, dumping the stack of photos into her hand while she started reading the letter. Her face fell into a frown the longer she read, the pictures were dropped onto the table, and she reached for her phone to call her husband who was out with some friends.

“Hey, Pet. What’s up?”

“Vernon, I just received a letter from Harry telling me about what his first two weeks up at that school has been like and it’s not good. I need you to come home as soon as you can so we can discuss our options.” She could hear him sigh, no doubt giving his friends that ‘long-suffering husband’ routine.

“How bad are we talking about?”

“Students being bullied and attacked for no other reason than circumstances of birth, teachers not doing their jobs, broken equipment, the list goes on. He’s also sent me a bunch of photos and the top three are not pleasant to look at.”

“Steven’s sitting here and judging by the look on his face, we might want to consider bringing him in on this.” His friend worked for the Department for Education which oversaw the operation of all schools within the United Kingdom.

“Is he open-minded enough to know about the M-word?” She heard Vernon speaking lowly to Steven; her eyebrows rose in curiosity when she heard him bark out a surprised laugh.

“He says that Dumbledore’s been running that castle into the ground for decades and he’d love to have the first crack at breaking down his fiefdom.”

Petunia couldn’t help but laugh as well, “Well alright then. Bring him home with you. Any of your other friends hiding important secrets like that?”

“Not that they’re letting on, no. Alright Pet, we’ll be home within an hour. Bye.”

When Vernon and Steven arrived, they were brought into the living room. Steven had a sheepish look on his face. “Petunia, it’s a pleasure. I’m sorry that I never caught on that your nephew is that Harry Potter the magical world has been going gaga over since Halloween of 2011.”

Petunia waved him towards a seat, “It’s not a problem. I’d be more concerned if you were one of those people who did go gaga over him. I was with him when he did his Hogwarts shopping and frankly, those people embarrassed themselves. It was like being in a three-ring circus with Harry as the main attraction.”

Steven nodded, “I do recall reading something about that in the Daily Prophet. Anyway, where’s the letter and photos?” Petunia handed him the letter and the photos she had already looked over. The rest were shared between herself and Vernon. “Damn, things have gotten worse since I was a student there.” One photo showed a Ravenclaw muggleborn in the hospital wing being tended to by the school Healer Poppy Pomfrey for a bad laceration caused by a slicing curse from an older Slytherin. (The description of the scene was written on the back.)

“When did you graduate?” Petunia asked curiously as she gasped over a picture of Harry taking a selfie with a curious-looking Centaur foal named Enzo.

“I graduated back in 1998. I was in Hufflepuff. Puffs are a good bunch of people and if it wasn’t for them; I probably would’ve had my wand snapped and my memories of magic obliviated because of the tough time I had going to that excuse of a school.” Steven replied as he examined one photo showing a somewhat concealed shot of a third year Hufflepuff boy being forced to walk around in a frilly tutu to the laughter of a group of fifth year Gryffindors. (He could see Harry must’ve taken the photo from behind a suit of armor.)

Vernon frowned, “That bad?”

Steven leant back, “Think of it this way, it’s a breeding ground for all of the worst aristocratic sorts and they’re all armed with a dangerous weapon from the age of eleven. If you can’t trace your family history back umpteen generations or have wealthy and influential parents, and you try to defend yourself from the bullies; it’s most likely going to be you who bears the brunt of the ‘discipline’ that’s meted out or worse, the retribution from the so-called ‘aggrieved parties’.”

Vernon’s face took on a distinctive shade of red, “Then we need to find a different school for Harry. There’s no way in Hell that I will allow my nephew to put up with that sort of abuse, especially if some of them take up the idea that he should be targeted because of what his parents managed to accomplish.”

Steven nodded in agreement. “Definitely. Tell you what; I’ve got a line in with the Prime Minister’s office. Let me make a few calls to see if we can set up an appointment to speak with him to bring this issue to light. Maybe his office can get the ball rolling to hold a proper inspection of everything going on up there.”

Petunia’s forehead crinkled, “Is Hogwarts under the DfE’s jurisdiction? I thought it was a separate entity that not even their Ministry has any control over.”

Steven’s smile was predatory, “I am something of a magical history buff and when I was at Hogwarts, I managed to locate a copy of the original Charter and Ministerial Agreement between the magical world and the Crown signed back in 1692. There’s a subsection that specifically states that if the educational standards of the school falls below a certain level and the Ministry or ruling council of the era cannot or will not fix the issue within a timely manner; the Crown is legally required to step in to oversee its overhaul until the problem is corrected.”

Vernon bobbed his head in understanding. “The reason being that if the school can’t fix the problem that their Ministry probably can’t either because they were educated under the same broken system. The Crown wouldn’t want a bunch of undereducated witches and wizards going around causing trouble.”

Steven waved his hand in approval, “Exactly.”

Petunia handed off the rest of the photos to Vernon. Steven was handed the others that Vernon had already looked over. “I think you ought to stop in to their Ministry as well to see if they have a listing of other schools available. I recall there’re a number of other schools that teach magic as well, but I don’t remember their names off-hand. Oh, that’s funny (he held up the photo of Harry hovering hanging upside down from a broom mugging for the camera, the photo being taken by a friend of his.)”

Monday 13 September, 2021; Ministry for Magic, Visitor’s Entrance

Thanks to Steven, Petunia knew where to go and how to use the Visitor’s Entrance to get into the Ministry for Magic. The iconic red telephone booth stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of a dirty back alley in the middle of a slightly run-down London neighborhood. “How quaint,” she mused out loud as the kiosk descended into the ground. “Not as grand as one would expect for a visitor’s first glimpse of the magical government.” It amused her to think of the message it sent to magical visitors, ‘Exit the dirty muggle world into the ‘pinnacle’ of magical government.’

Exiting the booth, she looked around at the hustle and bustle in the Atrium before fixing her sights on the Welcome Desk and walked over. The witch on duty smiled as Petunia approached. “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for the Department for Education,” Petunia replied.

The witch handed her a map, “That would be on Level 8. The lifts are just over there. May I have your wand first for identification purposes?”

Petunia shook her head ruefully as she spun the carefully crafted lie, “It was recently damaged by an overeager neighbor’s toddler. My next stop is Ollivander’s.”

The witch flinched and sympathized, “Ouch, been there. Okay, then I’ll need you to fill this form out. It takes a bit longer than the wand method, but it’s for your own safety.” She handed Petunia a rather lengthy form and clipboard then directed her to a bench.

When Petunia returned, she handed over the form. “Lifts are where again?”

The witch pointed to the wall, “Just over there. When you get in, tell the operator that you need to go to Level 8.”

Petunia thanked her and headed over. She caught the first available one headed down and joined a group of others. “Level 8, please.” The operator nodded silently. The lift’s gate banged closed prompting her to grab ahold of the handrail. She flinched a bit as the lift dropped down, and smiled pleasantly as she could to the squat witch staring at her. “I’m not comfortable with quick drops. Bad broom experience in school.”

The toad-ugly squat witch nodded sagely, “Yes, I can understand that. I never liked those horrible things. Whereabouts are you headed?”

“The Department for Education. I need to speak with someone about transferring my nephew to another school. Hogwarts isn’t accommodating his needs.”

The toad-witch narrowed her eyes, “Hogwarts is the best school in Britain.”

Petunia bowed her head, “But it’s my hope that it’s not the only school in Britain. I have never felt comfortable sending him there. Oh, where are my manners? My name’s Petunia.”

The witch ‘smiled’ and briefly shook her hand, “Dolores. Not comfortable, eh? I suppose I can understand that. Dumbledore can’t seem to let go of the frankly idiotic notion that the mudbloods are capable of being educated to assimilate into our ancient culture. Dirty beasts, the lot of them. If I were in charge, I’d just obliviate them all and boot them out of our community.”

Petunia’s mouth thinned out, “Quite.” The lift dinged indicating they’d reached Level 5. Dolores excused herself and waddled out. Petunia shared a glance with another rider who muttered, “I’m surprised the Toad didn’t demand to know your blood status. If there was ever a listing in the dictionary for Evil Witch, it would say ‘See Dolores Umbridge.’”

Level 8, Department of Magical Education

As she entered the main office, Petunia ducked under the impending aerial assault of what looked like a flock of paper airplanes flying out of the room. “Sorry about that.” She turned to see the receptionist smiling apologetically. “We don’t get many visitors during the school year.”

Petunia smiled back, “I suppose not. I’m here to see what other schooling options there are for my nephew. Hogwarts isn’t turning out to be the sort of place where he can thrive.”

The receptionist’s eyes dimmed a bit, “Muggleborn?”

“Muggle-raised is more like it. My husband and I were hoping that there was a school closer to London.”

The receptionist reached behind her to a wall-mounted rack and pulled out a couple of brochures. “These are the schools we contract with. We only interact with them when it’s time for the OWL and NEWT examination. I think you might find them to be more your speed.” Her voice was a touch chilly as if Petunia had insulted her somehow.

“Do any of them have restrictions that you know of? I wouldn’t want to send my nephew to an all-girls school.”

The receptionist smiled perfunctorily, “Not as such. The schools there are not funded in any way by the Ministry so they may not meet your expectations of what’s proper. They do the best they can, but let’s face it. If it’s not Hogwarts, your nephew just won’t get the quality education that they’re known for. You go anywhere in the world and mention that you received your diploma from Hogwarts; you’re recognized as an important member of polite society.”

Thanking the witch, Petunia took the brochures and quickly left the office.

When she got home, she dropped her things on the table and grabbed the kettle to make some tea. After the experiences she had within the Ministry, she needed something to settle her nerves. “Arrogant bastards.”

Once the kettle had warmed up, she fixed herself up a sandwich and settled down to look over the brochures. The first two were immediately discarded as they only taught a single subject, another was discarded because they only took students from a specific region of the country. It was the fourth one, a Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry that stood out as the frontrunner. “Ooh, this one looks promising.”

Vernon returned home after work and the two Dursleys shared a quiet dinner. Petunia brought out the Whitehall brochure and described what she had to go through at the Ministry just to get it. “You’d think I’d insulted their version of the Queen. There was so much arrogance dripping from every word they uttered, I’d swear they must squish when they walk.”

Vernon chuckled at the mental image that conjured. “So what does this Whitehall have that Hogwarts doesn’t?”

“For starters, they only accept muggleborn or muggle-raised students. No one from the ‘old crowd’ is allowed to enroll, not that I’d bet that they’d want to. The school was founded in 1824 to fulfil the areas in which Hogwarts was actively denying those students from non-magical backgrounds on the basis of their birth.”

Vernon carefully read Whitehall’s mission statement out loud, “The Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry aims to provide a modern, non-religious approach to exploring magic and mysticism for students between the ages of eleven to seventeen years of age. Its curriculum spans seven years, encompassing over 500 classes across 16 color-coded departments. The school presents an opportunity for muggleborn or muggle-raised students who are unsatisfied by the teachings of Hogwarts.

These departments cover an array of subjects, from non-magical subjects such as computer sciences, English grammar and writing, basic mathematics, British and world history, physical and health education to magical subjects including charms, transfiguration, potions, herbology, and the dark arts. The school's structure promotes both specialization and interdisciplinary understanding, emphasizing practical application, research projects, and ethical considerations. Known subject-matter experts periodically contribute to the curriculum through guest lectures and workshops, ensuring students receive diverse perspectives and remain updated on current practices.” He bobbed his head appreciatively, “It makes me wonder why your sister never went here.”

Petunia sniffed disdainfully, “I’d suspect it had something to do with the fact that their Department for Education barely has any contact with them and the only way to know about them is to ask. My parents had no clue about anything to ask and that McGonagall woman certainly never mentioned it.”

“So…okay, here’s a telephone number to call. I admit I’m curious now. Let’s set up an appointment to see what the school is like in person.”

Wednesday 15 September, 2021; Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Petunia and Vernon were in a word: dumbfounded. From the moment they were greeted by their escort to the moment they got back in their car; the sights, sounds, and every other sense they possessed were overwhelmed with an experience of a lifetime. They’d gotten a feeling of what Hogwarts was like from Harry’s pictures: a drafty Scottish castle lined with moving suits of armor, old and tired-looking tapestries, outdated or damaged equipment, and candlelight for illumination; frankly the school resembled something from those living museums of the medieval period.

Whitehall on the other hand; was clean, well-lit, and modern; looking no different than any other non-magical upper-class preparatory school. The building was lit with electric lights, the rooms were pleasantly warm, and presented an air of eager learning. Petunia made it a point to ask to see their potions laboratory and was blown-away at the polar opposite it was compared to Severus’ classroom down in the Hogwarts dungeons. The labs here were brightly-lit, had individual fume hoods, a special area cordoned off for explosive reactants, and a cage-protected ingredients store where the students were required to check out their needed materials with the lab assistant.

“So much different than Hogwarts,” she murmured in awe to her husband.

Their guide overheard and expressed his sympathy. “Your nephew was forced to go to Hogwarts?”

Vernon bobbed his head as he looked over one demonstration of an iodine clock, “For now, though it’s looking less likely the longer we’re here. I’m curious as to how you know when to contact the families of the muggleborn children if it’s never brought up by the deputy of Hogwarts. We wouldn’t have known to ask if it wasn’t for a friend of mine who happened to mention that there are other schools and we needed to speak with the Ministry’s Department for Education.”

Their guide sighed, “We have our own version of the Book of Magical Births. The problem lies in the fact that we’re limited to a specific range of detection whereas Hogwarts encompasses the entire island. When we do get an indication of magical birth of a muggleborn, we try to get there as soon as possible; usually by the time that the new parents arrive home from the hospital. Sometimes things work out and they’re open to the idea that their child will be able to make things float, change color, or do any number of things whenever they’re emotional; sometimes we get run out until it’s closer to their eleventh birthday and when that happens, we have to try to get there before Hogwarts does.”

“What happens to the students who don’t thrive at Hogwarts?” Petunia asked him. “How do they discover you then?”

“Usually through sheer dumb luck, as one of my instructors used to say. They’ll end up in the Department for Education like you went to in order to complain or in desperation and luck into finding our brochure. From there, they do like you do: schedule an appointment to see our school and are blown away at the differences then rail about the injustices that they had to go through in order to find out about us in the first place. It’s ironic, there are certain people within the magical community who continuously complain about the muggleborn and how they just don’t belong yet those same people don’t take the time to offer them alternatives to schooling. It’s not like we’re brand-new anymore.” He gave a deep shrug as if to say ‘what can you do?’

Vernon curiously flipped through a student’s essay on transfiguration for altering fiberglass to have the tensile strength of titanium. “What sort of things do you have to help a student from that school acclimate to the way things are done around here? If Harry does transfer, he’ll no doubt need some catching up to do, especially halfway through the first term.”

“We offer a workshop that goes over everything they’ll need to acclimate much in the same way kindergarten helps young children adjust to life beyond mum and dad. It lasts up to two weeks, depending on how long they were at Hogwarts. Those students like your nephew will probably only need a couple of days to readjust to the schooling they used to have in primary.”

“What about getting to and from the school? Do you use magical or non-magical means of transportation?” Petunia inquired.

“We’re located not too far from Trafalgar Square so the students are encouraged to use the Underground. For those rare few that have ready access to the Floo Network or access to a portkey, we have a reception room set up near the entrance. Because of the academy’s location within London, brooms are not permitted to be brought with students. I should also point out that the Physical Education courses will be held at the Oasis Sports Centre where our next stop is located. We also contract with local zoos and nature preserves for our Care of Magical Creatures courses.”

“There’re magical creatures here in London?” Vernon interrupted.

“There’s a fair few, nothing big mind you. Mostly smaller creatures like faeries, doxies, and kneazles. Most of the bigger animals can be found in warded sections of the zoos or preserves.”

“Is Whitehall a boarding school like Hogwarts?” Petunia asked next.

Their guide shook his head, “No. There is no on-site housing for the students. Students arrive and return home Monday through Friday either by the Underground, Floo Network, or Fixed-Location Portkey. Residence Inspection and registration is required for Portkey and Floo Network access to ensure Statute of Secrecy compliance. Physical entry to the school is located in the front of the building under a ‘muggle-avoidance’ ward. Parents are given a special identification card that allows them to be ‘keyed in’ so they can come in as well.”

“What does the entrance look like to someone not keyed in?” Petunia was curious.

Their guide shrugged, “I think it changes every so often, but usually takes the form of an electrical equipment room door.”

“What’s Whitehall’s policy on harassment and bullying? Hogwarts, as I’m sure you’re aware is rife with problems of it.” Petunia asked.

“Simply put; no student or staff is permitted to make derogatory remarks about another person’s blood status, age, sex, gender, physical capabilities, or financial status. Anyone caught violating these rules will face punishment up to, and including, suspension and/or expulsion. The most common form of punishment are in-class detentions where the perpetrator will be required to write a letter of apology to their victim and a vow on their magic that they will never repeat their actions. Failure to accomplish these tasks will result in immediate suspension from the school and a conference with their parent/guardian. Theft, arson, or other crimes will be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. If necessary, the Aurors (magical police) will be called.” Vernon looked impressed by that.

“What does the class schedule look like?” Petunia brought up after a moment of silence looking into one of the classrooms.

“Monday through Friday 7am to 4pm. Weekends dependent upon the subject being covered; advance notice will be issued by the professor via the school’s online newsletter that they can access using their student ID number, Whitehall Weekly.”

Petunia shared a glance with Vernon who nodded subtly. Things were looking up for transferring Harry. “Now I’m wondering if we could transfer Dudley too. Is such a thing possible? As far as we know, our son hasn’t shown the slightest inclination of performing magic.”

Their guide tilted his head, “Is he able to see magical locations at all?” At Petunia’s affirmation, he made pursed his lips. “Then it’s possible, I suppose. It’s just that our core classes are geared towards someone who can wield a wand.”

Vernon waved his hand dismissively, “That’s alright. It was just a silly idea to keep the two of them together to make transportation easier; Dudley’s fine where he is. Now, what sort of fees does this school have to attend here?”

“Attendance fees are covered by the non-magical Department for Education; however additional/supplementary magical supplies may be purchased in Diagon Alley or in the Academy Student Shop. I believe the most expensive non-equipment item there is no more than fifty Galleons.”

“You use the magical currency as well?” Vernon was surprised.

“Yes, sir. It helps the students acclimate themselves to the magical world if they can get used to their terminology and currency while they’re here. A large number of our graduating students go onto well-paying jobs overseas to magical countries or businesses that don’t interact with their non-magical counterparts so it behooves us to use the magical money.”

Whitehall Oasis Sports Center

While Petunia had been in awe of the main school, it was Vernon’s turn to look impressed. Everything an active child could ever need was on offer here. Amongst those were sports like basketball, football (both American and European), tennis, badminton, swimming, and a host of other things. With a cheeky grin, he asked if the center offered boxing. Their guide shook his head, “Unfortunately we don’t. We do offer a generalized physical activity class like aerobics and weight lifting that teaches the same sort of physical activity that boxing requires though.”

Before they left, Petunia asked their guide about the rules about practicing magic at home. “The Ministry has stated that no child is allowed to study or openly practice magic outside of school for fear that the muggles might get wind of it and expose their world. Naturally that only applies to the muggleborn and raised children. What does Whitehall do differently?”

Their guide nodded appreciatively, “After all the paperwork is completed, we send a team of warders out to the homes of the new students to install a wardstone which acts like a view blocker from all of your neighbors. Even if someone were using a drone to spy into your backyard, all they would see is your kids playing ‘make-believe.’”

After giving their thanks for the tour and promising to make a decision soon, Vernon drove them home. Along the way he brought up an interesting point, “Hogwarts, their Ministry in general, and Dumbledore specifically; is going to have a cow when they find out that their precious ‘savior’ is leaving their world forever.”

Petunia agreed with him, “Then we should prepare for the old goat’s interference.”

Sunday 19 September 2021; Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room

Harry watched as Hermione ripped off the wrapping paper to a present Sophie Roper had given her for the girl’s twelfth birthday. He flinched slightly as the birthday girl squealed loudly with excitement at being given an enchanted, never-ending diary that also came with the ability to ‘chat’ with you as you wrote within it. According to Sophie, it helped with composing what you wanted to write down so it was legible.

He smiled broadly as she turned and spotted him standing next to a large box on the table. “Happy birthday, Hermione. I originally had another present in mind but I decided in the end, this one would look far better.”

Hermione’s eyes bugged open as her voice trembled, “Y…you, you didn’t… A Potter’s Threads original?” Her voice trailed off into a whisper before finally failing her as she opened the cover and saw the outfit inside.

Harry soon found his ribs creaking after she tackle-hugged the stuffing out of him. “Thank you, so much!”

He patted her on the back, wheezing, “Enjoy it. Hermione! Need…air…dying…avenge me!” He thrust his hand out dramatically to a loudly laughing Neville. When she finally let go of him, he coughed, “How are you that strong?”

Hermione shrugged, “No idea. Oh, my god…a Potter’s Threads original! I’ll be right back; I want to go put it on.” She grabbed the box and dashed off up the stairs. When she returned, several of the others whistled with appreciation, guaranteeing that the birthday girl’s face was blooming pink with shyness.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, “Mate, do us all a favor and stop making clothes while you’re here. You’re making the rest of us blokes look bad when we can’t match the level of gifts.”

Harry chuckled, still rubbing his chest. “Never.”

The following Monday, both Petunia and Vernon stopped in to the Ministry for Magic’s Department for Education to get the transfer paperwork started. The clerk reviewed their entry then went to check to see who had guardianship over Harry. Vernon asked why that was important, “We’re his guardians.”

“In the muggle world, sir. The moment that Mr. Potter steps foot anywhere in let’s say, the Leaky Cauldron, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts itself, anywhere magical; his guardianship is controlled by someone who is either a witch or wizard. This is done because the muggles in most cases just don’t understand how things operate here.” The disapproval of that explanation was clear as day.

Petunia’s eyebrows rose, “You don’t seem to be of the same opinion of us.”

The clerk looked sheepish, “I remember your sister, Mrs. Dursley. You share many similarities that it’s not difficult to know who you are. Lily Evans was a year ahead of me and helped me out with my homework. I recall the times when she would go on and on about her older sister who was making waves back home with her own magical studies at home; her determination to not let the old fuddy-duddies determine that she wasn’t allowed to learn magic simply because she couldn’t use a wand.”

Petunia beamed proudly, “And I took that education to get my seven core subject OWLS and three NEWTs.”

The clerk cleared his throat when the file came back, “Yes, ma’am. Oh dear, you’re in for a long haul. It says here that Albus Dumbledore is recorded as being Mr. Potter’s magical guardian for the past ten years.”

Vernon scoffed, “Since when? We never agreed to anything of the sort nor was it listed in James and Lily’s Will.” He shared a knowing look with his wife. “We’re going to need to speak with that account manager of his to obtain a lawyer. This is going to be all-out war, you know.”

Gringotts

Daggerclaw looked up as his favorite clients entered his office, “Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. What brings you by?” He waved them to the empty chairs.

Vernon sighed as he sank into a chair, “Simply put, we need to hire a lawyer for what will probably be a contracted battle with Dumbledore over guardianship of Harry.”

Daggerclaw grimaced, “Yes, I imagine it will be a battle, and not a fun one.” He turned to rifle through his files on available lawyers. “May I ask what brought this on?” He asked as he extracted a listing.

“We’re pulling Harry from Hogwarts and sending him to a school that is far more modern and caters only to the muggleborn and raised where he won’t have to deal with the continuing issues that plagues Hogwarts.”

Daggerclaw snorted lightly, “Issues, he says. What will you do when Dumbledore does or says something to the effect that you’re mere muggles who wouldn’t know the first thing about how things are run in the magical world and it would be in Harry’s best interest to remain where his is?”

Vernon’s face contorted into a predatory sneer that warmed Daggerclaw’s Goblin heart, “We’ll bring in our Ace card.”

Friday 1 October, 2021; Dursley Residence

Speaking of that Ace card, Steven called around one in the afternoon, “How soon can you get to London?”

“Depends, where in London?” Vernon answered.

“10 Downing Street,” Steven replied, his voice had the impression of distinct amusement at knowing what their reaction was going to be like.

Vernon’s jaw dropped, “The Prime Minister?!”

Steven laughed, “Got in one. Seriously, how soon?”

Petunia was already heading up the stairs. Vernon tracked her with his eyes as he pushed himself out of his chair, “We can be there in about an hour, maybe a bit more for parking.”

“Alright, I’ll let them know. See you there.”

Vernon pulled into the designated parking spot as directed by the security officer and killed the engine. He and Petunia exited and followed the same officer to the front door. They paused when they heard their names being called. A man wearing a plum-colored three piece suit was waving at them as he approached. “I’m Theodore Tonks. Gringotts sent me to speak with you regarding your nephew and his guardianship case. Daggerclaw sends his regards and his message, ‘Black hats and cats are mere symbols of an oppressive regime.’”

Vernon laughed, “Sounds like that wily old so-and-so. Alright, come on. We’ve a meeting with the Prime Minister.”

Steven was there to greet them, “Welcome to the seat of Administerial Amazement, as it’s amazing that anything administerial gets done. (Vernon chuckled) So as it stands, the Prime Minister is not only aware of the magical world, he sympathizes with anyone who has to deal with those arrogant bastards on a regular basis. Mr. Tonks, I presume?” Ted bowed his head. “Wonderful, I assume Daggerclaw brought you up to speed with the situation.”

“He did, and let me say that my wife and I were none-too-pleased that the bearded blighter managed to seal the Ministry’s copy of the Will thereby preventing it from being acted upon at the time of the Potters’ demise.”

Petunia frowned, “Did no one think to get ahold of the Goblins’ copy?”

Ted shook his head, “The Ministry do something logical? Yeah, no.”

The secretary cleared her throat, “The Prime Minister will see you now.”

The meeting with Prime Minister was eventful and informative. As Steven had hinted, the man hated anything to do with Minister Fudge and his administration. He hated Albus Dumbledore even more despite having less to do with the man. “The few times I had to interact with him was a few times too many. Condescending old fart, how your side puts up with him is a wonder for the ages.” He waved his hand at the file in Vernon’s hand, “Let’s see the petition.”

Vernon handed it over, “Inside you’ll also find a stack of photos our nephew sent us regarding a number of things he’s noticed or experienced in the past couple of weeks.”

The PM scowled at the sight of the injured or harassed muggleborns, “This is despicable. I can only imagine what the school’s response to the allegations of harassment or violence against these children. What is it that you’re hoping I can do?”

Vernon replied, “We’re hoping that you could use the power of this office to force Dumbledore to cede guardianship over Harry to allow us to send him to Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead.”

“What’s the difference between the two schools?”

“Huge. It’s like night and day in comparison. Hogwarts hasn’t progressed much beyond the medieval or even the turn of the previous century whereas Whitehall is about as modern as one can get,” Petunia answered.

“I have the incident reports here, sir.” Steven interjected as he handed over the file. “These are just the ones that were reported and investigated on officially. Many students are too afraid to come forward to speak out because of fears of retribution from those of the pureblood students.”

The PM looked up at Ted, “What is your involvement here today?”

Ted calmly replied, “I’m here in case there’s a need to take this case to our courts, Sir. From what I’ve heard today as well as the background information provided by the Potter Account Manager, I fear that is where this is all going to be ending up.”

The PM eyed him for a moment, “Would you happen to know anyone in their communications department or whatever they use to contact me?”

Ted slowly shook his head, “Not offhand, I should think. If I may ask, why do you need such a person?”

The PM thumbed over to the painting of an ugly old warlock. “That thing, we’ve tried to put something else in its place but it won’t come down and frankly, it’s hideous to look at. If you knew someone who could provide an alternative, even if it was a painting of another person…”

Ted nodded in understanding, “I’ll ask around for you, Sir.”

The PM grunted his thanks. “In the meantime, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley; I think that I shall need to send this up to a higher authority. Give me a month to see what Her Majesty says about the problem. Chances are likely that she’ll take some sort of action. Nothing displeases her more than to see Her subjects being unfairly treated or disenfranchised, especially in this manner.”

Hogwarts, a week before Halloween

After word got around or more precisely, after Hermione (who kept pinching herself that she owned a Potter Original) kept appearing around the school wearing the outfit she’d received from Harry. She told anyone who even glanced in her direction who made it for her and why; Harry was practically flooded with requests to make clothes for eager students. It got to the point where Harry had to send word to his aunt requesting that she send a large box of catalogs to share with the school (along with the rest of his fabric stash and other notions to try and keep up with the demand above and beyond the care package she’d already sent that he used to make Hermione’s birthday gift.) Petunia responded via letter that the catalogs weren’t an issue, though he was limited to a small trunk’s worth of supplies as that was all Hedwig was able to carry.) He surprised her later after asking Hogwarts if it was possible to send some help to bring back more. The castle in turn assigned two elves to help out with whatever he needed. They returned with everything in his craft room and set it up in a newly refurbished space off the main Gryffindor common room. He was busy late into the nights on the weekends working to meet the orders. Minerva had to put her foot down after his grades started slipping. “You have a pair of elves at your disposal, Mr. Potter; please allow them to fill in for you while you’re in class or doing your homework.”

Harry relented after seeing them produce exemplary clothes made to his specifications. “Wow, where have you guys been all my life?” The elves blushed at the praise and returned to work.

Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin House was the second to start publicly wearing a brand new Potter outfit; she proudly strode through the halls in a calf-length Egyptian cotton full skirt dyed to look like a field of stylized grass (because of course) with a decorative border around the hemline. It even came with pockets! When asked if she wanted anything to go with it, she’d picked out a fine-knit long-sleeve honey-colored cotton shirt and a fine-grain leather button-down front vest with a rose red colored belt, and a glacier-blue hip belted pouch.

Potter’s Threads started to become known throughout the school. Harry was secretly amused by the looks of adoration from the other girls of nearly every year bracket, even some of the teachers were nodding appreciatively, as he went about his day.

Susan Bones went for a more utilitarian approach with a pair of cargo trousers in soft brown to represent the Earth, a flat cap styled after the one that Harry wore in Hufflepuff colors, a short-sleeved  yellow T-shirt with the image of an English Bulldog on the front wearing sunglasses and the message underneath which read ‘Bad to the Bones.’  She started something of a stampede within the House of the Badgers when she walked out of her room wearing that outfit, all of the other girls started clamoring for a catalog (or at least a couple of minutes to glance through the catalog she’d managed to copy from someone else.)

Cho Chang intrigued everyone with her 1970s-inspired bell-bottom hip-hugging dual-weave denim trousers which shifted from a light lavender color to an almost wine-red depending on which way you looked at it. It came with a stylized climbing flowering vine on the legs. She also wore a three-inch wide belt that was slung low on her hips (causing many a 12 year old boy to start inadvertently drooling), a loose-fitting basket-weave net blouse with flared cuffs and a simple red-colored crop top.

Lavender was finally convinced by Hermione to commission an outfit for herself and strutted proudly out of the dressing room Harry’d set up in an empty room adjacent to their common room wearing a three-tiered bodycon dress in a rich purple color with white stitching along the seams. It had two deep hip slit-style pockets and an elastic chest and waistband. A pair of decorative bows hid the pocket openings. She also had a pair of black leggings with a stardust glitter print on them. To complete the look, a southwestern print shrug draped across her shoulders. 

Once those five entered the scene in their new threads, people started to ask about things. The surprise was when Draco quietly asked for something 'sharp' to wear. After sending pictures home to his mother (but not his father) both were surprised by a Gringotts' draft for enough for a whole new wardrobe... both for Draco and Narcissa. (Harry left it to Draco to explain to his mother that she would have to come to the Castle for measurements and fittings.)

As for the Castle, Lady Hogwarts was intrigued, and manifested an avatar that introduced herself to Harry. After he got over this surprise (of ever how many to come) he promised to make something for her more classic tastes in fashion. At least for Lady Hogwarts, he didn't have to actually make the outfit, just complete a finely made sketch for the avatar to see and manifest herself.

Seeing that, the ghosts became interested, but unhappily for them they weren't able to take advantage of the same things. Death had frozen them into the outfits they'd worn at the times of their passing, after all. Oddly, the Bloody Baron was the most voluble in his praise. His deep voice could be heard congratulating Harry for the things the young boy was able to come up with.

It would be even more surprising to know that the Baron had quietly found a way to get in on the ground floor, so to speak, and have his still-living family outfitted in Potter Threads before anyone else in the Dark community could be.

Friday 29 October, 2021; Two days before Halloween

Harry was still unsure about staying at Hogwarts - so far - but he really couldn't argue with the Galleons starting to roll in. In fact, this started yet another customer base that no one had considered.

The Goblins.

The bank tellers and floor supervisors had sharp dress sense, of course. They were professional in appearance, but they did note from time to time that that appearance was... frozen... from a point in history. Harry thought about that for a day or so and put together something that seemed updated, but classic at the same time. It took him a while to figure out how to downscale to a Goblin's smaller stature before he realized that he had a live-in model in the form of his Charms teacher. Professor Flitwick was the best-dressed professor in the Castle with his classic wizarding robes done up in subtle Ravenclaw colors and stitching. The diminutive professor graciously agreed to play dress-up doll in exchange for a couple of personalized suits made to look like vintage movie actor Cary Grant wore. Filius had gone with a very smart mohair suit jacket in navy blue with grey pinstripes, baby blue dress shirt, and teal blue silk tie. With it he wore black pants, a black overcoat, and a taupe trilby hat. Minerva took one look at it and declared him to be ‘oh-so debonair’ making the Charms professor blush and wave her off. After a few transactions at Gringott's, Harry had plenty of free advertising. Plenty of orders, too…

The only person Harry refused to take orders from purely on the reasoning that the man had absolutely no fashion sense; was the Headmaster. Harry’d seen what the man considered to be ‘stylish’ and had run to Professor Flitwick begging to get some sort of brain bleach to get rid of the horrible memories (Flitwick had laughed and commiserated with the lad. “Try sitting in a long meeting with him and wondering just what was in those lemon drops he passed out.”)

End of the month Teacher’s meeting…

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore entered ten minutes late as was his wont, not caring in the slightest that he annoyed everyone else in doing so. He enjoyed the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him as he strode into the room with, in his opinion, an eye-catching set of robes done ‘October Orange’ with fluttering black bats and grinning pumpkins.

More than one teacher caught each other’s eye and muttered under their breaths that they wished Mr. Potter could teach this fool how to dress to impress.

“Thank you everyone for attending this month’s progress meeting. Minerva, let’s start with how your cubs are doing. I’m especially curious as to how Mr. Potter has been settling in. I heard there was a bit of a misunderstanding last month?”

Minerva huffed in annoyance, “Yes, and that issue has been cleared up. It seems that Percy Weasley was rather overzealous about who could be given an invitation to visit. He seemed to be laboring under the mistaken belief that anyone except Slytherins were allowed inside the tower. I am pleased to say that Mr. Potter wasn’t alone in his beliefs that friendship to the other houses shouldn’t be limited to just Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.” Severus was heard grumbling about the preferential treatment the brat was getting because of his fame. Minerva leveled a hard glare at him. “I don’t know where this animosity is coming from, Severus. Mr. Potter has not only been polite to everyone around him, but he’s also started something of a social revolution around here. He’s inspired more people to become open and pleasant to everyone around them. In my class alone, he’s at the top of his class and repeatedly offered his assistance to the slower students regardless of their House or family affiliation. He takes his time to work one on one with them to make sure they understand the lesson concepts. I’ve even heard he’s demonstrated the ability to cast wandless magic to anyone who’s interested.”

A spate of surprised muttering was heard from the others. Albus held up his hand to silence them. “Wandless magic, Minerva? Are you sure it wasn’t just a prank or someone acting in his stead?”

Filius tapped the table, “I’ve seen it as well, Albus. In his first class with me, he demonstrated the ability to make his fingertip light up using the Lumos charm. The way he explained it, it’s no different than turning on a light switch. Once he described it that way, nearly every other muggleborn or raised student was displaying the same ability.”

“Lucky chance,” Severus muttered disagreeably.

A knock on the door interrupted whatever comeback Minerva had planned as Lavender stuck her head in the door. She trembled at bit at the sight of all the staff looking back, “Professors, we have a problem. Harry Potter’s dead.”

Two people leapt to their feet ahead of the others. Albus looking ashen, Severus started dancing a jig right there and then cheering that his nemesis’ spawn was no more. Lavender pushed the door open to allow Hermione to wheel a slumped over Harry into the room. Hermione gestured at the poor boy, “We found him clutching his head before keeling over in history class. Right before his last breath, he pleaded with us to avenge him by exercising Binns.”

Amused, Filius caught Minerva’s eye when she made a scoffing noise. He drawled in a leading tone of voice, “Well, it’s a shame that Mr. Potter has left us. I guess that means we’ll have to start divvying up his sewing supplies and sell off his precious sewing machine.”

Harry bolted upright and leveled a finger at the grinning teacher, “Touch my stuff and I’ll come back to haunt you forever!”

By now the other teachers were openly chuckling and sniggering at the dismayed expression on Severus’ face as well as the reproachful look on Albus’. “Harry, my boy; you gave me such a fright.”

Harry grimaced at the headmaster, “Your boy? Since when have you been any sort of family to me? I’ve checked and at no time in history are you and I even remotely related.”

Albus gave him a condescending shake of his head, “Harry, I’ve been your magical guardian for nearly ten years. I think that qualifies me to address you as such.”

A disbelieving eyebrow rose, “Riight… Okay, show’s over. Thank you everyone for attending our little impromptu skit. Ladies, let’s head over to the dungeons. I have a feeling Draco’s in need of a good scaring.”

“Potter, you leave my snakes alone!” Severus growled.

“I’m not going to do any lasting damage, professor. He got me yesterday as I was coming out of the greenhouse,” Harry argued. Pomona Sprout was heard chuckling at the memory; Harry sent her a crinkled nose sneer. “Yuck it up, professor but I’ll be sending you the dry cleaning bill.”

Heads turned to her in silent prodding question. She relented after giving a short giggle, “Mr. Malfoy somehow convinced a cutting of Devil’s Snare to grab ahold of Mr. Potter. It took him and Neville Longbottom a few minutes to extricate the former from its grasp.”

“How is that funny?” someone asked.

“The plant in greenhouse one is just a juvenile. It doesn’t have the capability to strangle its victims yet.”

Harry grumped, “Well, I didn’t know that. I think my response was perfectly understandable.”

Heads were swiveling back and forth like at a tennis match. Pomona allowed that the boy’s actions were acceptable in that light. “He whacked the plant with a gardening trowel, nicking some of the branches which caused it to fling Mr. Potter away from it. He ended up breaking a few pots on his ‘flight from death’.”

Harry petulantly crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look at the still-chuckling Herbology professor. Hermione consolingly patted him on the cheek then took hold of the wheelchair’s arms and began wheeling him out.

Once the trio of kids had left, Albus let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, now that is over does anyone else have something to add to the conversation?”

Same time while Harry was scaring the bejeezus out of Draco…

Vernon was home with a bit of a head cold when the call he’d been waiting for came in. Petunia answered it while he was trying to soak away the pain in the shower. “This is the Prime Minister office is calling for Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

“This is Petunia Dursley,” she answered fretfully.

“Mrs. Dursley, this is the Prime Minister. I have good news that will be announced officially later today. After I took your reports, photos, and request up to the Queen; Her Majesty ordered an in-depth undercover assignment to investigate your claims of the failings of the school being perpetrated against your nephew, the muggleborn and muggle-raised students at Hogwarts as well as taking a peek into Whitehall Academy. Let’s just say that Whitehall is about to receive a major boost in its student roster. In short, she’s using her Royal Powers to decree that all muggleborn and raised students, regardless of which year they’re in at Hogwarts will be transferred immediately to the new school with the costs of said move to be covered by the Crown. She was rightly appalled by what She’d learnt about the treatment they were getting under the Headmastership of Albus Dumbledore.”

Petunia’s knees gave out as she fell into a chair, “That…that…that’s incredible, Sir. What about any sort of pushback from Dumbledore or the Ministry?”

The dark amusement in the PM’s voice was evident. “You leave that to us. Her Majesty is looking forward to laying down the law with those buffoons. Good day.” The line cut off.

“Goo…good day,” She replied lamely then just sat there dumbfounded at what she’d learned.

Vernon came in still toweling off his head and sniffling. “Who was on the phone?”

Sunday 31 October, 2021; Halloween

Morning, Third floor corridor, Right hand side

Harry stood on the landing as he dispassionately watched the stairs seemingly intent on denying him the ability to get out of this particular location. “Stupid stairs.”

Neville fidgeted next to him, “We shouldn’t be here.”

“I kind of figured that out for myself, Nev. The question now is, how do we get from here to there?” He pointed from their location to the flight of stairs which had finished its repositioning. Behind them, Harry’s hearing picked up the sound of a deep growling. “What was that?”

Neville shook his head fearfully, “Dunno, and I really don’t want to find out.”

Harry slowly nodded his head, “Good idea. I have another one. Why don’t we just sit down and wait for a teacher to come along and help us get out of this?” He sank to the floor and pulled out his sketchbook and a pencil; Neville watched him for a few minutes before laying back on the cool stone floor and stared up at the stained glass windows overhead.

After a few minutes of silence, Neville heard Harry ask him what he wanted to do when he got older. “I’m not sure. I know that whatever it is; it has to do something with plants and my family’s greenhouses. I love being in there, helping the plants grow and thrive.”

“Meowr.” Both boys looked up to see Mrs. Norris carefully approaching them, sniffing the air.

“Hello, Mrs. Norris,” Harry greeted the cat, offering his fingers to be sniffed and allowed to pet her. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. Perhaps you could inform Mr. Filch that the stairs stranded us here?”

“Meowr….purrr….” She butted his hand with her head before trotting off and disappearing around a corner.

Neville started laughing suddenly. At Harry’s curious look, he replied, “I was just thinking. You know how Professor McGonagall’s Animagus form is that of a tabby cat? I wonder how many times people have petted her without realizing it.”

Harry’s face tinged green, “I think I have already. There was a cat in the common room last night that resembled her coloring a bit. The cat parked itself on its side next to me while I was attempting to finish my astronomy homework. I think I gave Professor McGonagall a tummy rub!”

Neville laughed all that much harder at the horrified expression on Harry’s face. “That must be why she refused to look at you this morning! Hahaha!” He flinched and fended off a wadded up ball of paper thrown by Harry. “I’ve got to remember to tell my Gran that. She and Professor McGonagall went to school together. Gran loves to tag her with her past embarrassing moments.”

The caretaker Argus Filch shuffled into view just then. Without much more than a grunt in their direction, he waved for the two boys to follow him as he led the way back along the corridor. The growling sound was louder here. Harry gulped noisily, “What’s making that sound?”

“Never you mind that. Just stay away from this area unless you’re with a professor,” Argus muttered.

Harry scooped up Mrs. Norris and held her out like a kitty-shaped rifle, “As long as I have my super-powered Kitty Gun, nothing would dare to hurt me. Meow! Meow! Meow!” Every time he made a meow noise, Mrs. Norris played along and yowled at the same time causing Filch to wrinkle up in his face as if smiling was an unknown concept.

“I think you’re the first in a long time that Mrs. Norris actually likes,” he observed.

Harry held up the cat to face Argus, “Look at this furry face and tell me you can deny her anything.” The smug look on the cat’s face suggested that Argus was definitely not on that list.

Argus took back his cat and pointed to another hallway, “Follow that hallway until you come to a pair of doors. The one on the left will dump you out on the seventh floor near the Ravenclaw entrance. The other will let you out near the ground floor.”

Both Harry and Neville thanked the grouchy caretaker and trotted off.

Charms class

Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice then handed out a feather to each person. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnegan, their resident fire-bug and explosion-happy dorm mate. As it turned out, getting the feather to float was very difficult. Harry and Seamus both swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it -- Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. Hermione watched with growing annoyance as Ron proceeded to ignore the teacher’s warning about using the proper wand movements and pronunciation. Finally, she put out her hand to stop his flailing about, “Stop, stop, stop! You’re going to put someone’s eye out. Besides, you're saying the spell wrong.”

Ron’s ear tips went red as he fought to control his temper, “You do it then if you’re so bloody clever!”

Hermione gave him a disdainful purse of her lips, “Fine. Wingardium Leviosa!” Her feather floated up until it was chest height. Another feather floated over and began circling hers then began dive-bombing Ron’s face. He smacked it away and turned to see who dared to interfere when he spotted Lavender winking at Hermione. “See? It’s easy as long as you’re saying it correctly. Now, try again.”

"Oh, well done both of you!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Misses Brown and Granger have done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to no-one in particular as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly.”

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione and the other girls. Harry caught a glimpse of her face -- and was startled to see that she was in tears. "I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Hermione’s group suddenly wheeled around and stormed up in front of Ron. Lavender poked the redhead in the chest angrily, “No friends?! You must be a special kind of stupid, Ronald Weasley. I’ve known Hermione since she and I were in Reception together and there is no one I’d rather be friends with than her. You on the other hand, are the prime example of why the magically-raised are destined to fail. You’re arrogant, spoiled, and think the world owes you simply because of how far back your family goes. I hope you get everything you deserve, you self-entitled brat. Even Draco Malfoy doesn’t act like a spoiled little mama’s boy every time something doesn’t go his way.”

Harry stepped around to join their side and casually draped his arm over Hermione’s shoulders, “To be fair, whenever Draco starts whining; it’s usually his daddy who’s going to get called.” Theo and Blaise overheard and joined in on the laughter as they waited to see the outcome of this little confrontation. “Ron, I don’t get you sometimes. Your older brothers don’t act like this, why do you? You out of everyone here is the only person without any friends to speak of.”

Ron started sputtering, “But Harry! You and I are mates, remember? Mum told me to look out for you after you had to suffer from those magic-hating muggles and to keep those dirty snakes from getting their fangs into your fame.”

Harry stared incredulously at the blathering redhead, “What magic-hating muggles? My aunt and uncle love the magical world! You should’ve seen my uncle chatting up all of the shopkeepers when I went for my school supplies, and my aunt regularly stops in at Flourish and Blotts to check out their latest releases! I don’t know who’s been filling your head with lies, Ron but you need to learn to separate fact from fiction. Ladies? Shall we head out to our next class?” He hooked his elbow out for both Lavender and Hermione like a gentleman prompting all the girls to giggle at his behavior before looping their hands around his and strut away.

Both Dean and Seamus eased up alongside the fuming redhead. Dean commented dryly, “He’s right you know.”

Later…

At the Halloween feast, Harry merely picked at his food. Truth be told, he’d rather be anywhere then the Great Hall making merry about the night his parents were murdered and he ended up an orphan. He sat at the Gryffindor table surrounded by his friends and classmates, yet at the same time, he felt utterly alone. Finally, he gave it up as a bad job and left the Hall looking for a bit of solace.

It was because of that action he missed Professor Quirrell running in to let everyone know about the Troll that had gotten into the dungeons.

Harry wandered along an empty stretch of hallway when his nose was assaulted by the overwhelming stench reminiscent of an open sewer. “Gah! What is that?” He covered his nose in desperation, his eyes tearing up. His hearing however heard the unmistakable sounds of monstrously heavy footsteps thudding behind him. He slowly turned to see a towering Troll standing there looking around as if confused by its surroundings.

Slowly backing up, Harry felt himself impact the wall and gulped noisily. “Uh, hi? I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” He felt silly trying to talk to this apparently dim-witted creature that was armed with what appeared to be an entire tree trunk and dressed in only a loincloth and simple vest. He tried to ease his way around the beast only to be cut off from his escape when the Troll intercepted him and let out a low growl. “Sure, I suppose you would know what’s back that way. Why don’t we try this?” He motioned with his hand for the creature to follow him towards the castle entrance.

To his surprise, the Troll began to follow him. It was slow going as it kept getting distracted, but eventually the fresh air outside caught its attention as it began lumbering faster past Harry. He watched in relief as the Troll burst from the castle, let out a triumphant bellow then hightail it with plodding steps towards the mountains.

Running footsteps behind him caused Harry to see Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Quirrell rush up to him. Minerva was the first to speak, “Mr. Potter! Are you alright? What happened to the Troll?”

Harry let out a long sigh as he began to explain what happened. When he finished, the adults stared at him with undisguised amazement (or disbelief in the case of Severus.) He sniffed himself and recoiled, “If you’ll excuse me? I desperately need to take a bath.”

The group had just returned to the base of the Grand Staircase when they were intercepted by Albus. The man was in a towering rage, just barely restraining himself from making a scene in front of the others. He was holding a Royal Decree up in his hands. “Harry my boy, you have a lot of explaining to do!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Picking out the Elements to be Saved

Halloween; Minutes before the Troll Incursion

Albus was savoring the tart he was eating. Tonight was shaping up to be yet another good year to be the Great and Wise Albus Dumbledore. He finally had Harry Potter in the castle and in Gryffindor, no less! The boy would be watched over by the Weasleys upon orders of their mother (and indirectly by him) to inform the headmaster if any problems should arise. Already, Percy Weasley had to reprimand the Potter boy on proper decorum when interacting with those dirty Slytherins thereby planting the seeds of mistrust in anyone who wore silver and green.

Everything was shaping up the way he’d envisioned. The boy was humble and kind, as well as matching his father’s early skills in Transfiguration. Truth be told, he was a tad worried that the boy wasn’t as inquisitive as his father had been. James Potter would’ve investigated where the mysterious sounds were coming from on the third floor. He had even engineered the situation so that the stairs wouldn’t return to their starting spot until well after Harry and the Longbottom boy had been caught by Argus.

Albus even had plans to free them from whatever punishment the old Squib had in store just to ingratiate himself further with the Potter boy.

Taking another bite of the tart, he pondered the question of his DADA professor du jour. Quirrell was showing signs of possession true, but at this point neither the host nor the parasitic wraith of Tom were in a position to do very much. He knew about the unicorn issue; the loss of one or two animals wasn’t enough to warrant his interference. If anyone asked, he could just pass it off as the Acromantulas getting restless. The traps up on the third floor were almost complete, he only needed to make sure the boy stumbled upon the mirror at which point he’d be able to move it to its final location within that cavern under the school. ‘I also need to remember to gift the Potter boy his father’s Invisibility Cloak. The thread I included is in place which will make tracking the boy that much easier.’

Nicholas’ Stone was safe and secure in his desk until then. It was a shame in his opinion, that he would have to destroy the Stone after this year, but it was for the Greater Good. ‘No one but me should have access to such abilities. The Stone I made during my apprenticeship is proof of that. In all this time, I have withstood the urge to imbibe in its remarkable ability to enhance my longevity and only twice have I used to create the gold needed to make my two thrones whereas Nicholas is clearly too old to wield its powers effectively anymore. He’d had lost the Stone four times before it had been lent to me, for Merlin’s sake! He and his wife should have enough stock of the Elixir to put their affairs in order. If not, so be it. Six hundred plus years is enough of a lifetime for anyone.’

His wizened eyes gazed about the room before noticing Harry wasn’t in the Hall. “Minerva? Where did young Harry wander off to?”

Minerva shrugged unconcernedly as she sipped from her cup, “He probably went to the loo.”

Albus pursed his lips before shrugging it off. He then noticed that Quirrell wasn’t in the Hall either. He wasn’t sitting in his chair oh-so-cleverly located next to Severus (Albus wondered just how long it would take his perpetually dour Potions Master to figure out who he was really sitting next to.) Frowning, he was just about to call out to Severus when an unknown elf wearing an unusual costume appeared before him.

“Headmaster Albus Wulfric Dumbledore?” The elf asked him in a strong, clear voice without a trace of the usual trembling subservience they normally had when speaking to a human.

Ignoring the slight against the lack of his other two middle names for the moment, he calmly replied, “Yes?”

The elf held out a scroll. “This is a Royal Decree from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second. Compliance with Her orders is mandatory.”

Albus’ fingers twitched as he took the scroll from the elf (who promptly disappeared) and unfurled it. Minerva noticed his brows furrowing in consternation. “Albus?”

Before he could reply, Quirrell came running into the Great Hall bellowing something about a Troll in the dungeons…

Present…

Harry turned back to glance at the other professors before facing the barely-suppressed rage rolling off the headmaster. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and quit calling me your boy.”

Albus’ glare deepened as he waved the Decree, “I have just been scolded by that damned muggle Queen like an errant schoolboy for something that doesn’t concern her! She’s ordering me to release you from attending Hogwarts to go some piddling muggle school.”

Harry’s eyes widened a bit before they narrowed again as he tried to puzzle it out, “That…well, huh?”

Albus shook the scroll again, “You had no idea about any of this?”

Harry waggled his hand, “I knew that my aunt and uncle were going to try to see about getting me enrolled somewhere that doesn’t have so many problems, but I never expected that they’d be able to enlist the aid of Her Majesty.”

Albus growled darkly, “Hogwarts is the best school in all of Britain.”

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure, for the purebloods. The rest of us have to suffer in silence because anyone who dares to speak out gets slapped down for attempting to change things. Frankly speaking, this school is an absolute wreck and if the Queen is getting involved, it just means that more important people know and are going to do something about it.”

Albus towered over Harry who refused to back down. “You will write back to the Queen and apologize for this! There is nothing wrong with Hogwarts or how things are run here. I don’t care what your miserable muggle guardians say, you will be staying here.”

In that moment, Harry proved just why he was a best fit for Gryffindor. He gave an admirable growl for someone his age as he too, defiantly got up in Albus’ face. “No. I will not and I don’t care what you think you’ll be able to do to me.”

Albus was practically screaming at this point, “I am your magical guardian and what I say, you will do!”

Minerva and the others were aghast at Albus’ behavior; it was so unlike him to behave in such a manner. “Albus!” she tried to soothe his anger. “What are you saying?!”

Albus waved his wand, stupefying his senior staff, and continued to rage at Harry. “I refuse to follow these orders! The Queen has no right to interfere with how I run my school. From now on, you will remain here in the castle, learn what I want you to learn, and you will do as I say or face the consequences.”

A slow grin spread across Harry’s face as his gaze flicked momentarily behind the headmaster at the crowd forming behind them. “You really think that news of you keeping me captive will work in your favor? You really think that word won’t leak out?”

That did it; Albus completely lost control of his emotions and lashed out at Harry, slapping him across the face. “You insolent little brat! Nothing happens here at Hogwarts without my knowledge and permission!”

Click! Click! Click! The staccato sounds of camera shutters echoed behind him. Albus whirled around to see all of the muggleborns holding up rectangular devices in his direction. “What the…”

The Spirit of Hogwarts appeared before him, “I have taken down the ward that interferes with the muggle electronic devices you installed when you became Headmaster. They are sending everything you’ve just declared to the outside world. You cannot keep this a secret.”

Albus waved his wand again, snatching all of those infernal devices and smashing them against the wall. “There, now they have nothing to send out. The film has been exposed.”

Harry wasn’t the only one to burst out laughing (amongst some cries of dismay from those who lost their smartphones), “You really think that their phones have film in them? Just how out of date are you?” He rubbed his cheek where Albus had slapped him. “Those were digital cameras. The moment they started recording, the video went out to the wider world. In all likelihood, their parents, friends, heck even Her Majesty probably heard and saw what you’ve been ranting about.” He moved away from Albus’ reach and walked over to join the others. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Albus roared as he strode forward to grab onto Harry, “Get back here, you brat! I’m not done…” Whatever else he was about to say was lost to the ether as the Spirit of Hogwarts froze him in place, only his eyes continued to glare daggers at Harry’s retreating form.

Great Hall…

Harry led the others back into the Great Hall where they pulled up short at the sight of dozens of elves staring back at them, all but one were wearing a set of Royal Marines camouflage fatigues. “Um, hello?”

The commanding elf was wearing the Royal Marines’ Number 1A Regimental Dress in a rich purple. He bowed his head respectfully to him, “Mr. Potter, I am Chief Captain Elf Bentley of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second’s Magical Royal Marine Detachment Service. We are here to collect the belongings to every muggleborn or muggle-raised student, regardless of year and escort them to London where they will spend the night in a hotel before going onto their new school.”

Surprise looks sprang upon everyone’s faces. Harry’s jaw dropped open, “Wow, when the Queen says move, you really go all out.”

Bentley nodded resolutely. “Quite so. Her Majesty is of the opinion that if the magically-raised are so insistent on staying in the past, they shall be allowed to do so, but not at the expense of the muggleborn or raised. All of the muggleborn or raised are to be immediately transferred to a new school.”

A hand went up in the back, “How are we supposed to pay for this new school? Hogwarts has charged my parents a lot of money to go here.”

Bentley referred to his orders, “The Queen has ruled that the Crown will pay for the students’ first year tuition to ease their transition.” Murmurs of appreciation were heard from the older students.

Draco pushed his way forward and sneered at the elf, “So what’s so special about this new school? Why can’t I go too?”

Bentley returned the sneer at the arrogant boy, “This new school is just for them. No purebloods are allowed to enroll. You are not welcome in this situation. Your kind has run down the standards of the education that was supposed to be given to all students and the Queen is tired of picking up your messes.” He snapped his fingers prompting at least half of the present elves to vanish. “Those elves will be packing up your trunks and delivering them to the hotel. Those muggleborn or raised, I need you to raise your hands so we can take you out of the castle.”

There was a brief moment of inactivity before the younger students began separating themselves from the others. Hermione held onto Lavender’s hand and latched onto Harry’s. He gave her a comforting smile as all three bravely raised their hands. An elf appeared next to each one and popped them away.

Forty-five minutes later…

By the time that the Spirit of Hogwarts revived the senior staff (but left Albus to thaw out on his own), the Royal Elves had cleared the school of all muggleborn or raised students, their trunks, their pets (if any), and any trace of their magical signature just in case Albus tried to track their destination.

Minerva, Pomona, and the others entered the Great Hall and were greeted by absolute silence. Some of the magically-raised students had either sat down at the tables or were milling about uncertainly. Their sharp eyes quickly noted the gap of students who should’ve been there. “What happened?”

“They’re gone…” someone said. “All of the muggleborns…the elves took them.”

Minerva shared a concerned look with her colleagues, “Elves? What elves? And where did they take them? Someone had better start explaining.” She had to raise her hands to stem the onslaught of responses coming from everyone at once. “One at a time! You, Susan Bones; what happened?”

Susan sniffed sadly and wiped her eyes. “The elves were here at the orders of the muggle Queen who declared that Hogwarts is no longer safe for the muggleborns, and that they would be taken to a new school only for them. I don’t know where they were taken, except to a hotel somewhere in London.”

Filius squeaked in shock, “What of Mr. Potter?”

“Gone,” Susan whispered. “He, Hermione Granger, Hannah… all of the muggleborns or muggle-raised…all gone.”

Minerva’s (and the rest of the senior staff) eyes flew open. Severus scoffed, “About time, really. Good riddance to bad trash. At least I won’t have to put up with Potter any longer.”

Minerva leveled a threatening finger at him, “Keep quiet, you. I have no problem whatsoever of nailing your miserable hide to the wall.”

Quirrell watched the proceedings silently. His Master’s voice whispered in his mind, “This development is unexpected but better than I could’ve hoped for. The Queen’s interference and removal of not only the mudbloods, but also Potter; this will distract Albus away from whatever idiotic plans he has to keep me from getting the Stone.”

Later that evening, Albus’ office…

Albus stormed into his office and launched a concussive blast against an end table that once belonged to the Head of a long-lost family who’d died out during Grindlewald’s rise to power. He glared at the smoking pile of wood then waved his wand again to repair it. “Merlin damn that brat, his muggle relatives, and that Queen of theirs! They had no right to do any of this! How am I supposed to guide the boy to the destiny I need him to follow if he’s not in my castle?”

He stumbled a bit when Fawkes took flame and vanished from the office. “Blasted bird.” Grumbling as he flopped down in his throne, his dark gaze swept the room and noticed the disappearance of several books, and the table where he used to keep the trinkets to track the whereabouts of the Potter heir. “Blast it all to Hell, now what!” He strode over to the bookcases to take stock of what was missing. ‘Everything that I had acquired from the Potter main vault and from Potter Manor before it went on lockdown.’ His eyes widened as he hurried over to the trunk where he kept the Cloak. He let out a roar of outrage when he opened it up to discover that someone had taken the Cloak! “Elf!”

Head Elf Bippy popped in, “Yes, sir?”

“Who was in here taking my belongings and why didn’t you stop them?”

Bippy internally rolled his eyes; it was like this when Dippet started losing his grasp on reality too. “The Queen’s elves took everything that didn’t have your magical signature and only those items belonging to a muggleborn or muggle-raised student.”

Albus leveled a finger at the creature, “Go and get them back! They belong to me until I say otherwise.”

Bippy shook his head and raised his hands in reluctance, “I’m sorry, sir but I can’t do that. The Queen’s orders were very specific and if I tried to take back what clearly belonged to a living muggleborn or muggle-raised student, I’d be guilty of theft.”

With a flick of his wand, Albus sent Bippy sailing head over heels into the wall. Bippy managed to prevent himself from getting too injured by popping away at the last moment. After the elf vanished, Albus stood there, chest heaving as he tried to figure out his next step. His brooding led to a simple conclusion, “If I cannot keep the boy in the castle, I should make his living situation untenable. I think it’s time I altered the wards on those dirty muggle’s house to inspire resentment and hatred against anyone named Potter.” The look on his face would’ve terrorized anyone used to the grandfatherly persona he’d spent so much time crafting. He headed into his personal library to plan his next step.

Monday 1 November, 2021; London, St. Pancras Renaissance London Hotel (formerly The Grand Midland Hotel)

Harry opened his eyes, momentarily confused by his surroundings. He hauled himself upright and took in the room around him before his brain ground back into gear. A wide smile spread across his face, “Oh, right! No more Hogwarts!” He threw off the covers and dashed into the bathroom to get ready for what came their way today.

When he came out of the bathroom, he noticed a separate trunk alongside his own. Lifting the lid, he was surprised to discover a huge assortment of old books, manuscripts, and what looked like several shrunken-down portraits. Sitting on top of the books was a silvery cloak that felt like water between his fingers. Curious, he pulled out the cloak and slipped it over his shoulders. He let out a yelp of shock when he looked into the mirror and only saw his head floating without a body! “What is this thing?” It took him a bit of time before his sleep-addled mind put together the clues, “Oh, an invisibility cloak! That’s cool… I thought this was just a figment of the fantasy writer’s mind. Hmm… no, I can’t see myself wearing this everywhere.” He laughed at his own joke, refolded the cloak, and put it back in the trunk. He stared at it for a while, “I guess Bentley meant it when he said the elves would be collecting everything associated with us. This stuff must’ve belonged to my parents. I’ll ask Aunt Petunia if she wanted any of it or if I should stick it back in my vault.”

It took the consultation of a wall-mounted map near the lift, but he soon found the cafeteria where a large chunk of the other muggleborns had congregated. He picked up a tray and began loading it with breakfast before spotting Hermione and Lavender seated together at a table. “Good morning. May I join you?”

Lavender giggled, “Sure, but you’re going to need a bunch of tape.”

Harry groaned at her joke. “Ha-ha…Funny girl. Thanks. So? Has it sunk in yet?”

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she took in the hall and munched on her scone, “Not yet. So do you have any idea what this new school is going to be like?”

Harry shook his head, “Not a clue. It couldn’t be worse than Hogwarts though.” His head snapped up when he heard his aunt’s voice calling his name. “Aunt Petunia?!”

Petunia hurried over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “I’m so glad you’re alright. We got word that you were brought here and drove over as fast as we could.” She took the empty chair he offered and greeted the two girls. “Oh hello, you must be Hermione. Harry’s photos just don’t do you justice.”

Both Harry and Hermione blushed; Harry from being outed, Hermione from the praise. Lavender coughed out her laughter. “Oh, this is gold. Just wait until I tell my parents.”

“Shush!” Hermione swatted her friend’s arm, “Thank you, Mrs. Dursley. Harry’s spoken of you often. I guess we have you to thank for our current situation?”

Petunia nodded her approval, “In all honesty, my husband and I were merely hoping that we could get the headmaster to relinquish his control over Harry so we could get him into a better school. The fact that the Queen decided that all of you should benefit is just icing on the cake, as it were.”

“Speaking of this new school,” Harry piped up, “Is it a good one?”

Petunia’s eyes sparkled, “Just you wait and see. It’s like night and day in comparison. Is your trunk all packed up? Now that you’re no longer going to be in a boarding school, I thought we could load it up and take it home tonight.”

Harry bobbed his head as he finished his mouthful of tea. “Yeah, oh by the way; I seemed to have gotten another trunk last night somehow. It was full of books, a couple of shrunken portraits and a cloak that turns you invisible. I’m guessing it either belonged to my parents or someone else in my family.”

Petunia agreed with him, “Probably. Okay, we’ll take it with us and decide what to do about it later.”

Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry

The students assembled in front of the National Health and Care Excellence building where they had been delivered by the elves and were greeted by their new school’s prefects and senior staff. “Welcome to Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I am your new Headmistress, Olivia Marchbanks. Before you ask, as far as I know I don’t hold any relations to the Head of the Wizarding Examination Authority, Griselda Marchbanks.” She smiled pleasantly at the crowd. “We will be taking you to your new school shortly, but first a few ground rules. The old ways of learning or discipline you would’ve experienced at Hogwarts no longer apply. No longer will you be forced to muddle along if you don’t understand the material. There are tutors for just about every subject taught here to bring you up to speed.  In the case of discipline, we will be passing out a document for all of you to read over and sign your agreement to. In essence, it states that there will be no tolerance for bullying or violence based on age, nationality, gender, et cetera. Now, before taking any classes, you will be given an aptitude test to determine just what you’ve forgotten or never learned in the first place. After the test has been graded, you will be placed within a special workshop designed to help you acclimate to the school and your new scholastic lives.” A fair few of the muggleborns who’d been the victim of bullying at Hogwarts sighed with relief then eagerly signed the form.

A hand went up. “I was starting as a seventh year at Hogwarts; will I need to start over in first year here? How will that affect me taking my NEWTs or my OWL grades?”

Headmistress Marchbanks put them at ease, “You will only be considered a first year for the duration of the workshop, after which you will return to the year you were at. Your test scores for OWLs remain unchanged. Are there any other questions? Then follow me.” She led them inside the building where she pointed out the warded entrance. “For this week only, the security enchantments will be relaxed until all of you receive your identification badges and taught how to use them. Do not lose these badges, you will be charged a ten Galleon fee to have them replaced. If you do somehow misplace your badge, you will not be permitted to enter the building and will be required to contact the school to discuss your infraction and any possible punishment, which is usually in the form of a detention.”

From there, they were led through a hidden doorway which emptied out into a large receiving room. A set of escalators and a wall of lifts were set off to the side. “This is Whitehall’s Receiving Room where you will enter or leave the school. For those who have their apparition licenses or a portkey, you will be directed to the platform over there. For the rest of you, you will enter through the doorway we came through.

Hermione’s POV

Her jaw resolutely remaining swung open, her first thought as she entered the building was, ‘If this is what just the Receiving Room looked like, the rest of the school must be extraordinary!’ She followed the others up the escalators to the first floor where she was able to get her first look at the contents of the displays showcasing past students’ works and accomplishments. They were led into their new Great Hall where instead of four long tables; there were dozens of smaller round tables with chairs situated around them. At each spot was a sheet of blank paper. Their new Headmistress urged them to take a seat, she and Lavender grabbing the ones closest to the front. “Harry!” She motioned to an empty chair when the boy turned to her.

“Thanks,” he said as he sat down.

Headmistress Marchbanks stepped up to the podium to address them, “Thank you. In a moment, you will be handed over to your prefects to take a tour of the school. I want to reiterate that what you know of magical education is at an end. We here at Whitehall, take a different view on how education should be applied. No longer will you be denied knowledge based on who your parents are or how far back you can trace your lineage. Now, there should be a sheet of paper in front of each of you. What you need to do is tap your wand on the paper and state your name. This will do several things: one, it will identify you as being a student; second, it will produce a copy of your upcoming class schedule. You’ll note that everyone, regardless of which year they’re in will show that they are to be in the Orientation class when their Non-magical Studies is normally scheduled for. Again, this class should only take about two weeks. The third reason for you to tap your wand is for security if we need to find you for any particular reason. In case of an emergency, we will gather outside in front of the building. ”

Hermione followed the instructions and tapped the paper with her wand, beaming happily when her name appeared at the top of the sheet, followed by the times and classroom locations. She listened with great interest as the Headmistress expounded upon the history, current layout, and some of the courses and services that were offered by the school. When the prefects began to separate the students by year then again in groups of twenty to take them on a tour of the school; she was practically vibrating with eagerness to get started with her lessons.

As they entered the library, Lavender giggled at the starry-eyed look on Hermione’s face. “Easy there, girl. You’re going to have plenty of time to read as much as you can. Take a deep breath and try not to vibrate out of existence.”

Hermione sent her friend an exasperated huff, “I’m not that bad.”

Lavender snickered, “Oh really? Who was it then that stalked our neighborhood library when they heard that the latest release of A Series of Unfortunate Events came out?”

Harry and Dean had overheard their conversation and cracked up laughing. Dean sighed as he nudged Hermione’s shoulder, “Never change, Granger.”

By the time that they’d reached the Sports Center, Hermione was clearly feeling like she’d died and gone to academic heaven. She shared a manic grin with both Lavender and Harry, “This is going to be awesome!”

Lavender agreed with her, “and the best part is, no Ronald Weasley!”

Hermione let out a groan of delight, “Right? No more putting up with his atrocious…well, everything. No more purebloods degrading us for being different. No more Draco Malfoy insulting me and my parents every other sentence. Harry? (He turned at the sound of his name) If we were older, I’d kiss you for writing that letter to your aunt.”

Harry blushed a crimson red in embarrassment, “Aww, it wasn’t anything. I hoped something would happen but I never suspected that it would lead here.”

She looped her arm with Harry’s, “But it did lead here, and when we’re older, you are so getting kissed.”

End of the day, on the way home from Whitehall…

When they found out that Whitehall was a day-only school, a large segment of the younger years sent up a cheer. Getting to go home at the end of the day was miles above sleeping in a dorm on unfamiliar beds with unfamiliar kids (some of whom snored like there was no tomorrow.)

Harry leant back on the seat in Uncle Vernon’s car as he told the two adults what his first day was like from his perspective (Petunia was there, but let him take the lead on explaining.) “This place…you were right, Aunt Petunia; it is like night and day in comparison! It’s warm, well-lit, and inviting; I got assigned a locker where I can store my books and things in between classes. Have I mentioned that I can’t wait to start learning? I took a quick look through the curriculum and it’s incredible. Snape didn’t have half the recipes we’re going to be brewing. Astronomy looks like it’ll be fun too! No more heading out to a freezing cold tower in the Highlands of Scotland to look at a bunch of stars through ancient telescopes. We get to see the night sky in the comfort of an indoor planetarium as nature intended.” He then told the two adults about the elves he got to meet. “One is named Peaky! I asked him if he was named after the Peaky Blinders television show but he said that his mother thought he looked a bit pale in comparison to his brothers and sisters.” He then showed them both his brand-new school identification card that had his picture on it. “This is neat, my picture moves like those Chocolate Frog cards or the portraits back at Hogwarts. He doesn’t do much beyond smiling for the camera, but it’s still pretty awesome.”

Vernon smiled knowingly at his wife as he pulled up to a red light. “So are you going to be fine with coming home at the end of each day instead of lounging around that common room you used to go to? It means you won’t be able to see that Granger girl all the time.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m not around her all the time, Uncle Vernon! Besides, she’s got her own friends she likes to hang out with.” He sat up at a thought, “Oh, I wonder how Dudley’s going to react when he finds out.”

Petunia chuckled, “I’m sure he’ll be fine with the idea of staying where he is. Dudley’s doing quite well at Smelting’s. In the past couple of weeks, he’s joined a couple of clubs and impressing the teachers with his drawing skills.”

As they rounded the corner onto Privet Drive…

Vernon practically slammed on the brakes as they came within view of their house. “Son of a bitch! What the Hell is he doing here?!”

Standing in front of the house waving his wand as if he was conducting a symphony was Albus Dumbledore. It looked like he was casting something over their home; the air over and around the dwelling lit up in a sickly yellow light.

“Peaky!” Harry suddenly called out from his spot. A slight pop and an elf wearing the plum-colored uniform for Whitehall appeared. Before the elf could utter a reply, Harry pointed at Albus, “We’re being attacked by my former headmaster! Can you do something to knock him out or send him away?”

Peaky’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Student safety on or off school property was important, especially against those damned magically-raised arrogant humans. He popped out, reappeared behind Albus, and snapped his fingers causing the older man to slump to the ground unconscious. Within seconds of that happening, another fusillade of apparition cracks heralded the arrival of two more uniformed elves accompanied by six humans wearing red robes. One of those humans, a woman wearing a monocle, approached the car on Vernon’s side, “My name is Director Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. What seems to be the problem here?”

Vernon glaringly pointed at the slumped form of Albus. “Dumble-dingwad doesn’t seem to like to hear the word ‘no,’ especially if it involves our nephew. He was casting a spell or something at our house that looked like a sickly yellow color. Harry called for an elf who stopped him with a snap of its fingers.”

Amelia frowned in confusion, “What possible reason could the headmaster of a school have to cast anything against a muggle’s home?” She spotted Harry sitting in the backseat and her eyes widened, “Harry Potter? Okay, let’s get you all out of the street and find somewhere to sit down to discuss this.”

Vernon pointed at his house, “Did you dispel whatever he was trying to do?”

Amelia checked in with her Aurors who confirmed that Albus had only been casting a diagnostic charm on the wards when the Dursleys arrived. She frowned deeper, “Why does your house warrant wards? (She waved her hand dismissively) Never mind, something to discuss later. Go ahead and park your vehicle.” She followed behind as Vernon pulled the car into the garage.

Once they were inside, Harry kept glancing out the window to where Albus had been relieved of his wand and anything else that could be used to escape. Amelia brought out a pad of paper and a pen, “So, let’s start at the beginning. Who were those elves that brought us here?”

Harry replied, “They are employed by my new school. When I called for Peaky and asked him to do something, I guess that something included getting someone in law enforcement.”

She nodded slowly as she jotted down her notes. “Okay, now why do you suppose Albus Dumbledore would be casting anything against your home?”

Vernon let Petunia handle it. “The Headmaster is probably steamed over the fact that he was ordered by the Queen to relinquish guardianship over Harry. You see, this all began when Harry wrote us a letter stating he was disillusioned by the treatment he and the other muggleborns or muggle-raised students were receiving as punishment for daring to ‘go against the old ways.’ A friend of Vernon’s works in the Department for Education on our side and it was he who suggested that we put together a file containing everything that Harry’d sent us over the falling standards and worsening conditions of Hogwarts. I can show you the letter, if you’d like.”

Amelia nodded, “Please, I may need to refer back to it. I’ll also need to make a copy of the file if you still have it.” Petunia left the room for a moment and returned with said letter in hand. Amelia quickly read it over, grimacing at several instances. “This letter mentioned something about photographic evidence?”

Harry jumped up, “I’ll get them.” He dashed off then returned with the photos. “Here, I’ll be right back.” He then disappeared up the stairs; those down below heard a door shut. Meanwhile, Amelia waved her wand and made a copy of the file the Dursleys had compiled. Petunia wondered if they were going to get in trouble for magic performed in a non-magical house. Amelia shook her head and replied that her magical signature would be recognized and ignored by the Magical Network until a specific spell was cast that would alert her department.

Vernon picked up the thread of the story, “I have a friend who revealed himself to be a graduate of Hogwarts back in 1998 and he agreed that Hogwarts under Albus was not a friendly environment and that if you couldn’t trace your family lineage umpteen generations ago or didn’t have influential parents, you were essentially the bottom of the pecking order and liable to suffer through verbal or physical harassment by the magically-raised students.”

“Or worse,” Petunia added in.

Amelia gestured out to the footpath where a still-unconscious Albus was getting poked and prodded by one of her Aurors. “Let me guess, you decided that Mr. Potter would be better suited at a different school and Albus didn’t like the sound of that.”

Vernon nodded, “Got it in one. According to Harry, who was also physically assaulted by the headmaster yesterday (Amelia’s eyes bugged out at hearing that), Albus declared that he was the boy’s magical guardian and would not be following the Queen’s order to relinquish control.”

Harry returned, thumping down the stairs. “Sorry, had to go really bad. What did I miss?”

“We were just telling her what you told us about Halloween night.”

Harry made a humming noise, “Did you tell her about the Troll that got into the castle?” All three adults started making noises of outrage at that point, causing him to pink with embarrassment for failing to tell them earlier. “Sorry, I thought I’d already mentioned it. “ He went over what happened and how he led the creature out of the castle.

Amelia brought out an empty vial and her wand, “I will need to collect your memories of what transpired last night. Your aunt and uncle mentioned that the headmaster hit you?

Harry rubbed his cheek, “Yeah, he did and it hurt really badly. How’re you going to take my memories?”

“I’m going to place the tip of my wand against your temple while you think about the memory you want to share. I cast a spell that copies that memory, allowing me to draw it out and put it in this vial. I will then use a special device known as a ‘pensieve’ to playback that memory at a later time.”

With Harry’s permission, and the Dursley adults watching on; Amelia put actions to words and copied out his memory of the Halloween night. She did the process twice more to get a sampling of what he’d experienced in class and around the castle in general. When she was done, she tapped the vial with her wand, sealing it with a special label to prevent tampering. “Alright, thank you for that. So, do you know what prompted Dumbledore to go on a rampage?”

“My aunt and uncle were working to get me into a new school that caters only to the muggleborn and raised kids.” Harry answered.  “They ended up enlisting the aid of the Queen somehow. I guess he didn’t like that I wasn’t going to be a student at Hogwarts anymore.”

Amelia nodded understandingly, “What’s your new school like, if I may ask?”

Harry sighed happily and lazily gestured with a wave of his hand, “I’ve only been there for one day and already I can’t wait to get started! They have all sorts of classes that Hogwarts never would’ve thought about offering and different ways of teaching that doesn’t involve a boring ghost who only teaches about Goblin rebellions or a man who can’t seem to let go of his grudge against my dead father.”

“Won’t you miss your friends?” She asked him.

Harry waggled his hand, “I mean, sure I’ll miss a few of them. Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and a couple of others, but honestly, no. I’m glad I’m shot of that school. Is Susan related to you?” When Amelia revealed that she was the girl’s aunt, he smiled. “She’s nice. She bought an outfit from me and wore it nearly every day.” Cocking her head curiously, she asked him what outfit. “It was a yellow t-shirt with the picture of an English bulldog wearing sunglasses and the message ‘Bad to the Bones’ underneath plus a pair of cargo trousers.”

Amelia laughed, she hadn’t heard about that. She was curious about him making clothes though. “You make clothes? (Harry grinned proudly and went to retrieve a mini catalog from the hall table they kept for such encounters.) I’ll have to make a trip up there to see it. Okay, I think I have everything I need here. Do you have any questions or concerns?” She stored her pad, pen, and the catalog in her breast pocket.

Vernon thumbed out to where Albus still lay unconscious. “I’d like nothing better than for him to never come around again. Is there something you can do? Does a magical restraining order actually restrain him from darkening our doorstep?”

Amelia bobbed her head, “In certain examples, yes that’s possible. For now, I’ll just dump his bum in one of my holding cells until I get this mess straightened out.”

“What about whatever wards are around our house and property?” Petunia asked. “The new school is supposed to show up in the next day or so to install their own and I’d rather not have the current ones interfere with their work.”

Amelia nodded thoughtfully as she took her badge and tapped a sequence of symbols. A few minutes later, there was yet another crack of displaced air as a man appeared. He was wearing work coveralls and carried a heavy-looking duffle bag. “Thompson! I need you to clear out whatever wards Dumbledore’s placed upon the house and property. If it doesn’t have his signature, just ignore it. Make sure you record everything and hand it directly to me when you’re done.”

Thompson tipped her a salute and set about getting to work. Harry wandered over to watch him work for a couple of moments before trotting back when Petunia called his name.

After she shook each of their hands, Harry idly watched her speak with her people, drop something onto Albus’ robes which saw him vanish before the six police officers disappeared with a crack of noise. (Thompson continued to work on his assignment.)

Petunia let out a sigh of relief, “This was an eventful day. What would you say to a take-out dinner instead?”

Harry brightened hopefully, “Pizza?”

Petunia ruffled his hair playfully then headed for the phone and began dialing. “Pizza, it is.”

Tuesday 2 November, 2021; First full day montage at Whitehall aka Education Nirvana

Tuesday morning bright and early saw Harry impatiently waiting for Petunia to finish eating breakfast then get ready to take him to school. She giggled at his look of frustration, “I don’t remember you being this excited to go to Hogwarts.”

Harry huffed with exasperation, “That’s because Hogwarts had Dumbledore at the lead. We knew from Daggerclaw that he would potentially be trouble and that the school under his ‘leadership’ was going to be an absolute nightmare. Now come on!!”

Harry yelled out his farewell barely even before Petunia could fully stop the car as he practically flew out of the open door and ran up to the entrance to the building. Petunia just laughed to herself as she made her way back into the flow of traffic.

Slowing down enough to make sure the electronic reader recognized his identification card, Harry slipped easily through the hidden door and into the crowded Reception Room. He dodged around a cluster of sixth years stepping off the portkey platform and took the escalator up to the first floor where he slowed down and walked into the cafeteria where Hermione and Lavender promised they would meet him.

“Harry!” He barely had enough time to brace himself before being tackle-hugged by a bushy-haired missile. “How long have you been here? Lavender said she’ll meet us at our first class. She’s got something she needs to do first.”

“Hi, Hermione.” He greeted and hugged her back, “I just arrived. I can’t wait to get started. Have you seen anyone else from Hogwarts yet?”

She nodded excitedly, her hair bobbing with every movement. “Yes, Justin Finch-Fletchley is over there (she pointed at a portrait of a former headmaster), Dean Thomas is over there at the kitchen entrance; they’re still serving hot chocolate and pastries. Hannah Abbott is here but I’m not sure for how long. I get the sense that she misses Susan terribly. I also saw Sally-Anne Perks from Hufflepuff not too long ago. The poor girl…”

Harry frowned, “What happened to Sally-Anne?”

“She’d been getting bullied by the Slytherins because of her physical impairments. You know that she has a prosthetic arm, right? (He shook his head no) Oh, well she does and while it doesn’t limit her magical ability, the Slytherins kept calling her defective and destined for the trash heap.”

Harry’s eyes sparked dangerously, “But she’s feeling better now that she’s here?”

“According to her, she’s feeling loads better. She’s told me that a friend of hers is a student here, so they reconnected.”

Harry shook his head in amazement. “So why didn’t her friend go to Hogwarts?”

Hermione held up her hands, “Dunno, but at least she’ll never have to put up with those idiots ever again.”

Bobbing his head, Harry inquired about Hannah’s parents sending her back to Hogwarts. Hermione shrugged, “We’re not being forced to stay here, you know. It’s just that her parents and Susan’s were at Hogwarts together. Hannah and Susan have known each other since they were in nappies.”

As he sat down, Harry pulled out his schedule to look over. “An hour for this orientation class then we get into Astronomy. Oh, look; they’re having us take a General Theory of Magic class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I don’t recall anything like that back at Hogwarts. Do you know what the subject covers?”

She shook her head, “Not a clue.” She pointed to the asterisk next to three classes. “What do those represent?”

Looking over the paper, he noticed that they indicated that those classes marked with an asterisk would swap with three other classes on Tuesday and Thursday. “It looks like the 8a – 9a class will be Astronomy for today and Thursday, 915a – 1015a will be History of Magic, and finally the 1025 – 1125 class will be Physical Education at the Oasis Sports Center.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled, “I’m going to sign up to join the swim team. What about you? Have you thought about which clubs you’re interested in checking out?”

Harry rubbed his chin, “I’m hoping they have something similar to like a crafting club or even a fashion design club. Oh, speaking of which; would you be free and willing to come over to my house this weekend? I have some designs ready for the draping process and I’ll need a living model to try them on.”

Hermione gave him a thoughtful expression, “Hmm, spend the day lounging around with Lavender doing absolutely nothing or come to your place to try on absolutely gorgeous clothing? Yeah, tough decision… (At his bemused look, she playfully slapped his arm) Of course I’d be happy to come over! I’ll just need your address and phone number.”

“Got your phone on you?” he asked and typed in his info when she handed it over. “There, I need the same from you.” She’d just finished entering her information in when the bell for classes rang.

Orientation Class (700a – 800a)

Most of what the teacher covered was stuff Harry and the other first years easily remembered from their days in primary school. Topics included on how to write using a pen and pencil, how to write an essay, using the school’s computers, connecting to and using the internet, and things of that nature. They heard later that a lot of the older students had trouble with the class, especially using the computers because of how indoctrinated they were to the magical world.

Harry proved once again that he was a quick study when the teacher hinted that he and the other first years would most likely be done with the course by the end of the week.

Astronomy class (800a – 900a)

“Good morning everyone, and welcome to your first class in the wonder of astronomy. My name is Professor Groundswell and I’ll be assisting you to see beyond what your eye is capable of. Astronomy is a natural science that studies celestial objects and the phenomena that occur in the cosmos. It uses mathematics, physics, and chemistry in order to explain their origin and their overall evolution. Objects of interest include planets, moons, stars, nebulae, and a whole lot more. Relevant phenomena include supernova explosions, gamma ray bursts, quasars, blazars, pulsars, and cosmic microwave background radiation. More generally, astronomy studies everything that originates beyond Earth's atmosphere. Cosmology is a branch of astronomy that studies the universe as a whole.” She waved her wand and conjured up an impressive display of ghostly floating planets, comets that soared overhead, galaxies that swirled in the air, and even a model of their solar system.

Dean caught Harry’s eye and pantomimed his head exploding.

Professor Groundswell continued, “Astronomy is one of the oldest natural sciences. The early civilizations in recorded history made methodical observations of the night sky. These include the Egyptians, Babylonians, Greeks, Indians, Chinese, Maya, and many ancient indigenous peoples of the Americas. In the past, astronomy included disciplines as diverse as astrometry, celestial navigation, observational astronomy, and the making of calendars. While taking this Astronomy class you'll learn about planets, the Solar System, stars, galaxies, various kinds of matter, and the fate of the Universe. At the same time, you'll learn how we know all of this. The world is rapidly changing and what is known is also rapidly changing.”

History of Magic class (915a – 1015a)

"Magic.” Professor Collins intoned solemnly. “The mere mention of the word conjures up a wide variety of emotions and stirs the very essence of what makes us…us. But where did it come from? Who were the first users of magic? How did they lay down the foundation toward everything we recognize and use today? In my class, we will be taking that walk back through history to listen to the old stories, to see and experience what it meant to be...magical." He began the class by distributing worksheets to see what they’d retained from their previous class as well as what was expected of them going forward. He knew that the Hogwarts contingent weren’t likely to answer all of the questions; that wasn’t the point. He wanted to see how many of them read the textbook before coming into class as well as those who showed some intuition for the multiple choice questions. After he collected the worksheets, he jumped right into the lecture of how ancient magicians tried to make sense of the earliest mysteries.

Physical Education (1025a – 1125a)

For the first time since joining the magical education system, Harry had to run as many laps as he could before Coach Burton blew his whistle, perform thirty each of jumping jacks, sit-ups, push-ups, then go through an obstacle course. All of this had to be done within the first thirty minutes of class. When they were done, they were further separated based on their aptitudes to breaking a sweat. The slower students were given a Blue designation, the average students were given a Yellow designation, while Harry and the other faster kids earned the Red designation.

“Alright, listen up! I’m sure some of you have an interest in something beyond the basic physical education. To that end, there are sign-up sheets on bulletin boards within your gender’s locker rooms. You will be required to bring in your own combination lock for your assigned locker where you’ll keep your street clothes. Showering will be required for everyone, no exceptions. I don’t care what tattoos you might have,” Burton barked out. (Several kids snickered at the thought of a bunch of eleven year olds sporting tattoos.)

Harry didn’t sign up for any of the sports clubs though he did notice that Dean had immediately signed his name for the Freshman Football team tryouts.

Lunch (1200p – 100p)

There was a brief thirty-five minutes of either Study Hall or running for a change of supplies between when their Physical Education/Transfiguration time slot let out and lunch started. This was done to accommodate everyone who had to transit between Oasis Sports Center, or any other outside venue (ex. The zoo or preserve for the CoMC classes.) As lunch was being served, it was easy to distinguish between the former students of Hogwarts versus the other returning Whitehall kids. Everyone formerly of Hogwarts were sitting at the tables with a completely overwhelmed expression on their faces, their lunches ignored for the moment in a vain hope of being able to process what they’d just gone through. Harry turned dazed eyes towards his friends, “Did that all just happen or am I suffering from a delusion?”

Dean snort-burped a laugh, “If you’re suffering from a delusion, I think some of it is bleeding over to me, mate. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a History of Magic class like that. I mean I get the PE class, but history? I keep pinching myself to see if I’m dreaming.” Seamus wordlessly bobbed his head in agreement.

A second year boy sitting with the three of them tapped his finger on the table, dragging their attention to him. “Are you lot alright? You look like someone ate your dog in front of you.”

Seamus shook himself out of his stupor, waving his hand towards windows, “We used to go to Hogwarts and we didn’t learn half the stuff the professors are giving us! Our former history professor was a ghost who only talked about Goblin rebellions and we found out today that you already learnt that during your first two weeks in September? More to the point, the History teacher here moved onto a different topic! Binns would’ve gone into excruciating detail over every single rebellion! My head feels like it’s been torn in two different directions.” The other two boys agreed with his sentiments.

The second year hummed understandingly, “Yeah, I heard that all of you are a bunch of transplants from that castle school. What was it like?”

Dean grimaced, “It was a drafty, old, tired Scottish castle full of purebloods who kept reminding us that we didn’t belong there. A few of our former professors were good teachers, but they still acted like whatever we did was something unexpected, or worse acted like we were some kind of trained chimp.”

Harry gestured to the second year, “So what’s your name? Mine’s Harry Potter, this is Dean Thomas, and that’s Seamus Finnegan.”

The boy in question smiled pleasantly, “My name’s Kevin Finkel. I’m a muggleborn obviously. Um…I’m actually a transplant myself I suppose; I was born in the United States then moved here when I was five because my dad got a better job posting at the company he works for.” The now-identified Kevin eyed Harry curiously. “Harry Potter, why does that name sound so familiar?”

Harry brushed the hair on his forehead out of the way revealing the lightning bolt scar. “Ever hear of Potter’s Threads?”

Kevin’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped open, “You mean you’re… wow, I’ve never heard of you!”

Harry, Dean, and Seamus shared a look of confusion between the three of them; Harry’s jaw was swinging open and closed like a gaping fish as he tried to process what Kevin had said. Kevin burst out laughing, “Sorry, it was too easy. I’ve met big-named celebrities before and nothing throws them off their game by suggesting that you’ve never heard of them.”

Dean waggled his finger at Kevin, “You’re crazy, aren’t you?”

Kevin grinned toothily, “If you think I’m crazy now, just wait until you see me in the Enchanting classroom.” He dug into his bag and dropped a cube onto the table. “That’s my latest creation. It’s a learning tool for aspiring cursebreakers, you see. What you do is line up the individual symbols and when they’re correctly arranged, the face starts to glow a brilliant blue. Then you push on the center tile and an effect…happens. Watch!” He twisted and rotated the tiles left, right, up, down, counterclockwise, and clockwise until the top face began to glow. He pressed the center tile which sent out a pulse of energy. Kevin winked as everything at their table began floating as if gravity had been canceled out. After a moment, gravity reasserted itself and the glow vanished. “Pretty cool, right?”

When school ended, Petunia was there to pick Harry up from the front steps. “How was it?”

Harry looked starry-eyed, “Thank you, thank you, a million-billion times thank you!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” She nodded smartly, “Now, I have a task for you. I want you to write a letter to the friends you left behind at Hogwarts. Let them know that you’re doing well and remind them that just because you’re in a different school doesn’t mean that you no longer want to remain in contact with them. Plus, it’ll give Hedwig something to do. She’s been rather bored of late.”

Harry pursed his lips then agreed. “Good idea. I’ll need your help though. I don’t want to rub Whitehall in their faces when all they have left is moldy-old Hogwarts.” He stared out of the window for a moment before brightening, “Did you know that one of my professors has the first name of Petunia too?”

Wednesday 3 November, 2021; Hogwarts, Great Hall

Minerva sat in her chair watching the students eat their breakfast. The large gaping holes where the muggleborns used to occupy really drove home just how quickly things had changed. “Min?” She turned to where Filius sat looking concerned at her. “Are you going to be alright?”

She slowly shook her head, “Eventually, maybe? I cannot believe that Albus let the standards fall so deeply that the muggle Queen felt it was necessary to step in and take away nearly half of our entire student population. Why didn’t I see this coming? Why didn’t I try to do something about it? I’m the Deputy Headmistress, professor, and Head of House yet I failed to see what was glaring at my face. In all my years, I’ve never been one to back down from a fight yet in this case, I was totally blindsided.”

Pomona patted her hand consolingly, “Think of how I feel, Minerva. My House is supposed to be the one where everyone is treated equally yet I too, never heard of a whisper from the students about the treatment they’d received at the wands of the purebloods.”

Flashback…

The previous morning, all of the staff regardless of their rank or position, were required to attend a conference held by Director Amelia Bones who revealed what her investigation had uncovered regarding the assault by Albus on Harry Potter as well as all of the unreported allegations of harassment and bullying on the muggleborn or muggle-raised students going back decades. Amelia had laid out some hard truths and refused to hold back her scathing conclusion that the staff of Hogwarts had seriously failed their charges.

“What all of this boils down to is that you are hereby placed on probation. If you do not do your best to curb the rampant bullying and intimidation; I will have no choice than to recommend you to be released from your positions. Griselda Marchbanks is in complete agreement with me over this, especially after it was found that she and the other examiners were suffering under long-duration compulsions to overlook anything that took place up here in the castle.

Gasps of shock were heard from some of the professors. Filius raised his hand, “Do you know who cast those spells?”

Amelia nodded sharply, “I do, and as much as it pains me to admit it; Albus had nothing to do with it. He’s still under investigation for other transgressions, but in this instance; the compulsions were the work of his predecessor Armando Dippet.”

Severus spoke up, “Speaking of Albus, when will he return to the castle?”

Amelia checked her notes, “He should return some time this weekend pending a full psychological examination. At his age, the loss of emotional control and physical assault in a school setting is troubling. I won’t have him endangering the lives of any more students on my watch.”

Present…

Minerva’s sharp hearing caught the sounds of Draco Malfoy boasting that now that the mudbloods were gone from the school, his father would be announcing plans to bring the school back to its former glory. “Mr. Malfoy! Thirty points and three days detention for your horrid remarks. The days of that word being uttered in this school are at an end. I don’t care if the muggleborns are enrolled anymore or not; you will not use such vulgarity!”

Draco pouted and slumped in his seat, glaring darkly at Minerva who turned away uncaringly. Severus gave her a sneering drawl, “Really, Minerva? It’s just a word.”

A stiffly arched eyebrow rose as she returned the sneer, “And what happened when you used that word on Lily, Severus? Hmm? I seem to recall it had some lasting effects that haunt you to this day.” His features hardened to which she waggled her finger reprovingly, “Mind my words, Severus and remind your students; vulgarity in any form will no longer be tolerated here at Hogwarts, and don’t think you can just run to Albus whining about how unfairly you’re being treated. I expect that sort of petulance from the first years, not someone of your age.”

Severus immediately stood up from his seat causing the table and utensils to rattle. “I don’t have to stay here for this kind of treatment.” He turned and stalked out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him.

Both Pomona and Filius stared with unabashed incredulity at Minerva’s display of authority. Filius breathed, “If I wasn’t already married, I’d propose to you Minerva McGonagall; that was bloody awesome!”

Pomona chuckled at the pink dusting of a blush on her friend’s face.

Friday 5 November, 2021; Hogsmeade, Hogshead Tavern

Albus was still smarting from the intrusive (abusive, in his opinion) treatment he’d received from the Healers at Saint Mungo’s. ‘How dare they treat me as some addle-brained simpleton?! There’s nothing wrong with me and I’m insulted that they think I need to be watched like a common criminal. So what if I slapped the Potter brat? He deserved it for daring to deny me my right as his magical guardian.’ His mutterings continued as he traversed the trail to the small township of Hogsmeade.

He decided to stop in at the Hogshead Tavern where his younger brother was the bartender and always a good source of entertainment (whether he wanted to provide it or not.) He pushed open the door and was greeted by the garish sight of an illuminated sign touting ‘Potter’s Threads.’ “Aberforth!” He roared, “What is the meaning of this?!”

Aberforth Dumbledore sneered at his older brother, “You like it? Funny story about how that came to be.”

Flashback…

It was late September and the Hogshead was for it, bustling when the somewhat rotund man entered. "Evening, everybody."

"Thorn!" Several patrons called out in a semi-intoxicated cheer.

Aberforth looked at the man as he wiped the bar. His rag was rather sooty, not that he minded. "Draw you a firewhiskey, Thorn?"

"No, I know what they look like. Just pour me one." Both Thorn and Aberforth chuckled at the joke. In short order, Thorn found his accustomed stool and plopped down. After his first few sips, he peered at the younger Dumbledore. "You know, Abe, you're dressing a lot snappier than usual lately. What's up? Got a witch that'll finally deal with you?"

The area of Abe’s beard around his mouth twitched upwards indicating amusement. "Nope. I'm dressing like this to annoy my brother."

Thorn took another sip, trading glances with the man sitting on the next bar stool. "I was sure he did that anyway."

"He does. He's just trying to prove that he's better at it,” the man replied then hiccupped.

"I'd say he was doing a good job of it," one of the regulars piped up. They watched as Aberforth moved from behind the bar for a moment, heading for something leaning against the wall.

"What's that, Abe?" Thorn inquired, taking another sip.

Aberforth’s eyes twinkled with merriment. "You'll see. It's something for everybody to see." The 'something' was a somewhat more colorful sign than usually graced Aberforth's bar. It touted Potter Threads and mentioned that the elderly bartender was a client. Aberforth took his wand to lift the sign - which did look pretty heavy and sturdy - and applied several sticking charms to it and the wall.

"Don't want that sign to come down do you, Abe?" Someone laughed.

Aberforth shook his head, "Nope. I hope it’ll stay up long enough for my arrogant brother to see it."

The bar patrons regarded the sign.

"Needs something else," someone commented.

"What?" Another questioned.

"Well, how about a light or something?" The hulking half-giant from Scandinavia muttered quietly, surprising many that he knew how to speak English.

Abe considered the sign then nodded slowly. "That's an idea. Let's try it."

One of the patrons sitting at the corner squinted at the sign. "Wait a moment. I thought I saw something from this side. Let me try something."

Aberforth waved him to it, making a silent gesture that said don't mess up my new sign. The patron squinted at the sign again - this time with the other eye - and took a long sip from his mug before waving his wand. It took a few minutes, as the man was a bit drunk and was being extra careful. Everyone knew that Abe could and would twist anyone in his bar into pretzels before pulling his wand. Everyone looked at the sign when the man collapsed on his stool and ordered a refill.

It was glowing with a light that was steadily drawing attention to it. The 'Potter Threads' part of it flickered on and off, with colors that alternated from red, yellow, blue, and green, and the figure above it was somewhat ethereal in its appearance. It had the odd positioning for a still figure that, for everyone looking at it, seemed to be admiring itself in the mirror that was the front of the sign. From its perspective, the figure was looking out at whoever was looking at the sign.

"Huh." Aberforth looked at the sign. "Okay, you can have a free refill, but only one." Everyone cheered, not least the man who'd 'improved' the sign.

Thorn grinned, "Wonder what Potter will do next?"

"Not Potter I'm concerned with," Abe grunted.

"Oh? Who then? Albus?"

"It's Rosmerta. She got a fitting, too. Bob, I hope you remember how you did that to the sign. Rosie's got one, too."

Everyone looked at Bob, who was sound asleep on the bar next to a now-empty mug. Low whistles sounded throughout the Hogshead. This could be... interesting.

Present…

Albus roared in rage and drew his wand only for it to fly out of his hand and into Abe’s. The moment the wand smacked into his hand, a whirlwind of sparks and light erupted from the tip. Abe stared in wonder at the wand that was now whispering ideas of obtaining incredible amounts of power into his mind. He shook his head and tossed the stick of wood onto the bar before leveling a heavy glare at his stunned brother. “Stupid wand, and you! If you dare to try to destroy anything of mine again; I’ll jam this wand up your arse so deeply, you’ll have to use a Niffler to dig it out.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Hole in the Fabric Reveals A Fraying Economy

Saturday 6 November, 2021; Dursley Residence, morning

Harry had just finished writing out his letters to his friends he’d left behind in the magical world. Petunia had worked with him to draft a kind missive that spoke about how happy he was now that the educational situation had been resolved, but at the same time revealed just how much more difficult the classes were. ‘So don’t think that everything is sunshine and rainbows here. I’m working my bum off to catch up on what I missed.’

To Neville, he described what Whitehall’s greenhouses were like with their automatic watering systems, the connection they had to Kew Gardens, as well as the ‘green room’ that was filled with soothing aromatic plants where a student could go to meditate and decompress after a long day of classes. ‘As much fun as it is here, I still miss you Neville. I miss our chats about the different plants that could be used in the manufacturing of fabric and accessories. I miss the moments of your dry wit and the way you’re able to shoot Ron down while making him feel like he’s on top of the world. One of these days, you’ll have to come visit me.’

Deciding that he’d put all he could into his writing, he stuffed the letters into envelopes, addressed them then took them to Hedwig for delivery. “I would greatly appreciate it, Your Majesty of the Skies, if you would graciously take these letters to my friends? There’s no need to wait for any replies.” She gave him a half-hearted exasperated glare for a moment before sticking her leg out. Harry quickly tied the letters to her leg, kissed her claw, and sent her on her way.

Just as Hedwig disappeared into the morning glare, the doorbell rang. As he opened the door, he had just barely gotten out, “Hey, Hermione” before he was nearly bowled over by the girl in question as she launched herself at him and gave him one of her soon-to-be patented grapple-hugs. “Good morning, Harry!”

Harry extricated himself, rubbed his chest ruefully, and drawled, “You know, one of these days you’re going to hug the stuffing out of me.”

Hermione playfully pinched his cheek and teased him right back, “But you’re so cuddly!”

Petunia heard that and called out her agreement from the living room. “Hermione, is that you? Who dropped you off? Are they still here?”

Emma Granger appeared and smiled down at Harry. “I’m right here, Mrs. Dursley.” She waved politely as Petunia entered the hallway. “Hi, Emma Granger.”

Petunia shook the woman’s hand, “Thank you for bringing her by. I just wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind hanging around for a while so you can see how Harry works. I’m aware of how unusual it is for a boy to ask a girl his age to strip down so he can get her measurements to make a garment.”

Emma smiled pleasantly, “Thank you, I’d like that. So, Harry? Let’s see what you’re able to do.”

Potter’s Threads studio (aka half of the garage)

Hermione’s eyes were wide with intrigue and excitement as she took in the space where the magic happened. It was brightly lit with pictures of some of his artwork on the white painted walls, bolts of fabric stacked up in a bin, several cabinets and shelves stuffed to capacity with supplies, one sewing machine and a serger machine along one wall, a large flat table in the center, a changing screen, and a raised platform surrounded by three mirrors. “Wow, this is incredible!”

Harry hopped up onto his stool and spread his arms grandly, “Welcome to Potter’s Threads; the mystical land of high fashion at reasonable prices. Remember, if your clothes aren’t becoming to you, then you should be coming to me.” Both Granger girls giggled at his introduction. He gave Hermione an evaluative look before walking over to a set of drawers and pulled something out. “I think the first thing I need for you to do is to go put this leotard on. This’ll help me get an appreciation for your body shape without having you feel uncomfortable in your underwear.” He handed her a basic beige-colored pile of fabric. “You can change behind that screen.”

Hermione took the leotard and scampered behind the screen. “So who’s the most famous person you’ve ever had here?” She asked as she pulled off her shirt and tossed it over the top of the screen.

“Well, I’ve worked with a few. Ever hear of Felicity Jones?” Harry answered as he fidgeted with a transparent green plastic ruler.

Peering out from behind the screen, she stared open-mouthed. “The one who played Jyn Erso from Star Wars? You’re kidding! What’s she like?”

Harry smiled fondly, “She was fun to work with. She knows what she likes and wasn’t afraid to tell me. I made the dress she wore for the 2020 Golden Globes.”

Emma was also amazed, “I saw the broadcast for the Red Carpet. That was a gorgeous silver dress, Harry.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Granger. How’s it going, Hermione?” She stepped out a moment later and handed her mum her street clothes. He slid off his chair and led her over to the platform where he began by pulling out a bolt of muslin fabric. “I’ll be using this material to drape the general shape so I don’t waste good material on a potentially bad design. Some of the fabrics I have here are quite expensive to use for testing theories.”

“You don’t use a dress maker dummy form?”

Harry shook his head, “I do, but since I’ve already asked Hermione to act as my model, I figured that she wouldn’t mind standing in for my usual dummy.” Hermione scrunched her face up at his teasing and playfully flicked his nose causing him to laugh.

While Harry worked, Emma chatted with him about his views on various topics. One of which was what he thought would happen to the magical world now that the muggleborns had left. He stopped pinning to think about it, “I think we’re going to see just how bad their economy is now that we’re no longer there to pay the inflated prices for school supplies. I remember listening to my aunt and uncle, as well as my account manager that the muggleborn families were paying an additional twenty-five percent above what the same item would’ve cost the magically-raised families. My uncle’s said a number of times that the fastest way to get change to happen is when it impacts a someone’s pocketbook.”

“You seem pretty aware of economics for an eleven-year-old,” Emma observed.

“Yeah, it comes from the times when I’ve wanted a particular fabric or some supplies that have to be shipped in from overseas only to be told that the only way I can have them is if I figure out what I need to do to afford it.” He pressed in a fold for a set of pleats on Hermione’s left side and stared at it critically before pulling it out and redoing three pleats to make them lay better. “My aunt wanted me to be financially aware and not some spoiled brat who thinks his guardians are just made of money for whatever catches my fancy.”

When he’d finished the mock-up, he helped Hermione get out of it so it could be disassembled for the pattern-making process. An elf appeared, surprising all three. “Is this ready to be sewed, Master Harry?”

Harry blinked, “You’re Sunny, right? I thought you only worked at Hogwarts. Won’t they miss you?”

Sunny shook her head, her large ears flapping slightly. “Hogwarts has many elves and not all of us are busy every day. I can go anywhere as long as I let the Head Elf know in advance.”

Hermione frowned, “But does the Headmaster know? He didn’t like letting Harry escape from his control.”

Sunny huffed and hitched her delicate hands on her hips, “That old busybody. He needs to be taken out to the woodshed someday. No, he doesn’t know I’m here and Bippy, the Head Elf is in no mood to inform him. So, may I sew this up for you?” She held out her hands for the garment.

Harry just blinked dumbly for a moment before replying, “Okay, I was going to get it set up to make a pattern. That’s only the muslin mock-up.”

Sunny nodded her head understandingly and began laying out the fabric, marking the outlines and other details necessary to draw out the paper pattern. All three humans watched her work for a brief moment before Harry began draping for the second outfit.

Later…

Hermione stared in awe at her reflection at the clothes she was modeling while Harry critically examined them for any defects or things that needed to be addressed. The shirt she was wearing had dual-layered book cover-style shoulders, and a crew-neckline with pleated side panels in a wine red/iris red combination. There was a border around the front and back panels that extended over the sides by an inch. She was also wearing a pair of culotte-leg peacock blue corduroy shorts with a 2-button closure and zipper fly. The shorts had two deep flap-style hip pockets as well as two card-size rear pockets.

Finally, Harry looked up at her and smiled proudly, “I think we have a winner here. What do you think? How does it feel? Anything that doesn’t sit right with you?”

She shook her head, “No, I feel comfortable wearing this. It’s odd to wear shorts with such wide legs but it’s nothing I can’t get used to. I like the way the shoulders have that bounce to them and the pleats make breathing easy.”

Harry nodded approvingly and twirled his finger, “Okay, go through a variety of poses; like bending down like you’re getting something off the floor, run in place, that sort of thing.” He and Emma watched as she followed his instructions. “Well, alright then. Let me get my camera and I’ll start taking photos for the catalog.” He disappeared into one of his closets to get his gear. When he returned, he had a teasing twinkle in his eyes, “Do you have any preferences for identification? Should I label this as ‘Granger Danger on the Town’ or should I go with ‘Looking like a Bushy-haired Hot Mess’?”

Hermione sent him a half-hearted glare and snootily sashayed over to the mirrors again, “Very funny, Mr. Hunky Harry.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh at their byplay, “Hunky Harry? When did you start calling him that?”

“On the train up to Hogwarts back in September; he found out about mine and Lavender’s nicknames then revealed what his aunt called him after he made his signature Peaky Blinders suit.” Hermione replied, waggling her index finger teasingly at a blushing Harry.

Harry cleared his throat and held up the camera, “Yeah, well…let’s get this over with. We still have another four designs I have to make before we’re done today, and one of them is a fancy dress for special occasions.”

The second outfit that Harry made for her was more utilitarian in that she now wore an olive green pair of jeans that came with the ‘standard’ deep hip pockets, single button closure and zippered fly. She also wore a three-inch wide canvas belt in a red rose color with a hammered brass buckle. Attached to the jeans via a quartet of metal rings was a half-wraparound blue denim utility pouch that came with two wallet-sized pockets, a couple of keychain loops, and a large zippered pouch for valuables. The shirt was a ribbed knit mock-turtleneck in hunter green and a tri-colored vest with a lace-up closure in front.

They took a break after that to have a snack and to use the bathroom. Harry spoke with Sunny to make sure she understood that he wasn’t forcing her to work straight through with no refreshments. She patted him on the shoulder, “You aren’t the first person I’ve worked for outside of Hogwarts, Master Harry. I’ll be fine and I’ll let you know if there’s something I need.”

“Why do you keep calling him ‘Master,’ Sunny?” Emma asked after a moment.

Sunny shrugged, “It’s just a title, ma’am. It’s no different than calling a teacher ‘professor’ or someone ‘Minister.’”

Emma gestured between the elf and Harry, “So it’s not like he owns you in a slave/Master sort of way?”

Sunny shook her head and laughed lightly, “Not at all. There are some wizards, especially from the darker pureblood families who like to think that, but in reality; if an elf wants to leave their employ, they’re allowed to request it.”

Harry looked up from his search for a seam ripper tool, “What about elf abuse? I heard some stories from the Gryffindors about some of those dark families who abuse their elves.”

Sunny’s ears drooped a bit, “It’s been known to happen. The elf who finds themselves in an abusive home is usually an elf that was born into that family. They don’t know they’re allowed to leave at any time simply because their parents aren’t around anymore to teach them those sorts of things.”

Hermione frowned mightily, “That’s horrible! How would an elf be able to free themselves in those situations?”

Sunny wiped her eyes from a sad memory and replied, “Their Master or Mistress would have to present them with clothes, either being tricked into it or doing it deliberately. Clothes are a symbol of banishment to an elf. It is why whenever you see one of us; we’re usually dressed in a tea towel, a pillowcase, or something that is impractical to living freely.”

Harry knelt down in front of the elf, “I promise you that if I ever presented you with clothes; it means I would love for you to model them for me.”

A wide grin spread across the elf’s face as she gently patted his cheek, “And I would be honored to receive such a gift.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up at the sight of the third outfit. It featured a vintage-inspired 1940s-era pair of high-waisted canvas shorts with double vertical columns of decorative buttons, two duffle hip pockets with two half-inch square Velcro closures. She slipped on a dark rose colored tank top shirt then a knitted bolero sweater with a ribbed neckline and long sleeves which ended in a ribbed pair of fingerless ‘gloves.’ “Ooh, I’m starting to love the vintage clothes.”

Harry took the fourth drawing over to Emma first. “I want to get your approval on this one next.” Emma saw the sketch and nodded her approval. So with that, he started making up a shoulderless long-sleeved lightweight cotton blouse with an elastic hemline and cuffs in a dusky southwestern orange-red color. “What’s fun about this weave is in the way the threads are woven. You have a fire red going one way with a sunset orange going the other way so it subtly shifts as you move.” He paired it off with a black A-line skirt with two slit-type pockets along the seam lines. It had a single button closure and zipper fly on the left side and a blue-agate ribbon bordered by gold stitching along the hemline.

Another elf appeared and greeted Harry and the Grangers. Harry tilted his head, “I don’t remember you. What’s your name?”

“My name is Bobby, Master Harry. I’m Sunny’s child, she asked me to stop by to help with the heavy lifting.”

Sunny was heard scoffing from the drafting table, “Heavy lifting, he says. I needed you to grab the bolts of cloth from the bins as needed. They’re no heavier than some of the buckets in your regular job.”

Emma chuckled, “What is it that you normally do, Bobby?”

Bobby puffed up proudly, “I’m the elf in charge of making sure the Slytherins have enough soap for their baths, ma’am.”

She looked confused, “They make you carry their soap in buckets?” Bobby snapped his fingers causing a square bucket to appear. Emma’s eyes cleared up as she got it. “Right, a crate with handles could be called a bucket, I suppose.”

Both Harry and Hermione shared a sly look between them. Harry tapped Bobby on the shoulder, “You got any good gossip about the Slytherins you can share?”

Bobby shook his head with an expression of ‘long-suffering elf.’ “If there was ever a more entitled, spoiled group of humans, I’ve not encountered them yet. They all want the most luxurious scented bath soaps for their private bathrooms and woe to the elf who doesn’t kowtow to their every demand.”

“I’d bet that Draco Malfoy is the worst of the first years, right? He struck me as the type who’d get whiny if his shoes weren’t polished so brightly that they could be seen from orbit.” Bobby tapped his nose in agreement to the laughter of the others. “Alright, here’s what I need you to get first.” Harry handed Bobby a list of fabrics and supplies to get.

When time came for the fifth and final set, Harry asked Mrs. Granger what their social level was. Emma frowned as she tried to puzzle out his question. “I don’t know how to answer that. What does the sketch look like?” She gasped when Harry held up the drawing. “Oh dear, I don’t think any of the places we go could ever warrant something like that.”

Hermione jumped down from the platform so she could get a peek. She scowled in indignation at the laughter that bubbled up from both Harry and her mum when she saw that he was holding a picture of a garbage bag. “Harry! That’s not nice.”

Emma pulled her daughter in for a hug, “I think that’s Harry’s way of saying that you can make anything look good, sweetie.”

Appeased, Hermione sauntered back up to the platform and gave Harry a look that promised a hug that would threaten the integrity of his ribs. “Let’s do this.”

The dress she wore was in a word: stunning. It exposed her shoulders and just hinted at her developing femininity (more than the fourth blouse did.) Angel-sleeves with an elastic band around the elbows to provide a bit more ‘billowing’ and a floaty baby doll hemline that ended at mid-thigh. To keep her modesty, the dress came with a built-in pair of shorts (with pockets of course) in a matching color. It had a satin sash across the waistline, and a knife-pleated cross-chest iridescent panel that glittered in the light. What finished it off in Hermione’s mind; was that the dress matched Harry’s eye color perfectly. “Wow.”

Harry’s tongue stuck out from between his lips a bit as he helped her lace up the thigh-high brushed suede boots, “These laces, I think; are the toughest part of the whole process. I can’t wait until I know enough magic to speed things up a bit.”

On the way home from Harry’s studio…

Hermione was practically fizzing with energy despite the frankly exhausting modeling session she’d just finished. Harry was a stern taskmaster when he wanted to be yet he understood that his model was still roughly his age. Her jaw fell to the floor when he presented her with five garment bags of every outfit he’d had her wear that day. “Harry… I’m honored.”

He’d just smirked, “Keep thinking that when the Spring 2022 catalog comes out. You’ll be swamped with requests from girls begging to know what it was like to work with me in their creation.”

Now starry-eyed at the memory of being featured in one of Potter’s Threads upcoming catalog, Hermione couldn’t wait to get home where Lavender was no doubt waiting to see her new wardrobe.

Dan Granger greeted his girls as they entered the house, “How’d it go?” He laughed at his daughter’s dream-eyed daze as she drifted off to her room, arms loaded with the garment bags.

Emma kissed him and settled onto the couch. She accepted a cup of tea from him. “Things went well. Harry was a perfect gentleman and completely professional the entire time, even when the two of them had to be in close proximity to each other.”

Dan frowned, “What does that mean, close proximity?”

She held up a staying hand, “The first thing he had her do was change into a leotard so she wouldn’t be too embarrassed seeing her out of her street clothes. From what I observed, he’s worked with older models all the time so the female form is nothing to get all bothered by.”

“He let her keep the clothes? How much did they cost?”

Emma shook her head as she sipped her tea, “They were given to her for free as thanks for being his model. If we had to buy them, I’d wager that they’d easily be over a couple of thousand pounds. That fancy party dress alone she has would easily cost twice that much.”

Granger Residence, the next day

Dan barely looked up from his breakfast at the dual sounds of both the doorbell ringing followed closely by the strident two-toned squeals of female excitement heralding the arrival of Lavender Brown. He winced slightly at the sound of the two girls thundering up the stairs like a rampaging herd of elephants before Hermione’s door slammed shut.

Emma poked her head out of the study, “Was that the nine am stampede I just heard?”

Dan pointed to the ceiling, “Lavender and Hermione practically deafened me with their screeching. I should schedule a hearing check by the time she leaves.”

Up in Hermione’s room…

Lavender stared in awe at her best friend’s clothes haul, “I still can’t believe that we’re friends with Harry Potter let alone that he knows how to make such beautiful clothes. When do these come out officially?”

Hermione grinned at her excited friend while glancing over the most recent issue of Teen Vogue from her spot on her bed. “I know, right? Harry said the Spring 2022 catalog ought to be out roughly mid-February.”

Lavender held up the tri-colored vest in front of her as she looked into the mirror. “You think I could borrow an outfit?”

Hermione laughed lightly, “Lav, you and me aren’t even close to the same size. You’ve already started growing the girls whereas I’m still shaped like a slab of cardboard.” She said the last in a grumble while looking down at her flat chest.

Lavender joined her on the bed and playfully poked at her friend’s chest, “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about, Granger. All you have to do is take one look at your mum and know that you’ll eventually be in good hands.”

Hermione let her head fall back on her pillow and sighed dreamily, “As long as those hands belong to Harry, I’ll be happy.”

“Staking a claim already?” Lavender’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “Does he even look at girls like that yet?”

A sly grin stole across Hermione’s face, “You and I both know that girls develop faster so I’m just planting the seed of doubt in all of my potential competition’s minds. That includes you too, missy.”

Lavender rolled her eyes and pushed off the bed to return to her perusal of the new clothes, “As if. I’m not interested in boys. I agree with my mum, boys are like toys; fun for a while but eventually they become useless.” She held up the fire red and sunset orange blouse and smiled, “I like this one. So which one will you wear to school tomorrow?”

Hermione rolled over onto her stomach to point to the first garment bag. “That one with the culotte shorts. I love the way the corduroy hugs my bum.”

Wednesday 10 November, 2021; Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade

It had started off slowly but soon the shopkeepers of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade began realizing that without the muggleborns and their families stopping in to do their shopping, their bank accounts were starting to run low. They convened at the Leaky Cauldron that Wednesday to hold a Commerce Council to discuss their options.

Garrick Ollivander sat in his chair listening to the others rant and rave about how their shops were practically empty. He shook his head at the ludicrous ideas that were being bounced around. He caught Aberforth’s eye and scoffed, “They’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”

Aberforth grunted as he sipped his mug of ale, “Aye, I think you, Tom, and me are the only ones unaffected by the slowdown.” He shook his head at one idea being proposed that they contact the Mot to make not shopping in their respective districts illegal. “How would you even begin to enforce that?” He hollered to get their attention.

Peter from Porter’s Trunks glared at an unmoved Abe, “I’ve got the ear of Lord Parkinson. He and I were in the same House together at Hogwarts and while he and I didn’t share the same views on the muggleborns during the last…scuffle, he has said that if I need a bit of legislature pushed through, to give him a floo call.”

Aberforth sighed as he put down his mug and glared at the man. “You really think that pushing legislature to force the muggleborns to buy stuff they don’t need in your shops is the way to go? I did a bit of checking out of curiosity and found out that their new school supplies everything they need aside from a wand and uniform. They have no need to buy anything from either districts, and certainly aren’t going to let themselves be forced into doing so just because you don’t like it.”

“So how are we to recoup our losses if they’re no longer here to buy them?” Someone asked from the other side of the room.

“The purebloods are still here, you know.” Someone else commented. “Maybe we should just cater to them.”

“They’ll never go for it. I’ve had to raise my prices twice just to cover this month’s rent. Lady Mulgrew’s complained about the rise on dragon’s liver.”

The council members kept complaining, offering solutions, complaining some more without really getting anything done. Occasionally, one or two would leave to give their workers a break or to fix a problem that might’ve cropped up in their absence.

Two hours into the meeting, the door opened making several including Abe squint from the glare as the silhouette of a person made their way inside. Abe’s mouth twisted into a scowl when that silhouette revealed itself to be his brother Albus. “What do you want, Albus?” he growled.

Albus barely gave his younger brother a glance. “I heard from a friend that you are all feeling the pinch from the disappearance of the muggleborns from your shops. Well, my friends; I’ve come with a solution. My friend mentioned that Peter here had the brilliant idea to propose legislature to force their return to our humble community and I thought that would be a wonderful project to lend my considerable political capital to.”

Whispers of approval and eagerness sprung up at hearing Albus’ offer. Abe leant back in his chair and shook his head in dismay. He nudged Garrick and commented, “This isn’t going to end well. Albus has got something illegal spooling around in that demented mind of his.”

Garrick bobbed his head in agreement, “If not illegal, then definitely immoral.” He eyed the wand in Albus’ holster then back at Abe, “When are you going to take possession of Albus’ wand? I sense that it’s changed its allegiance to you.”

Abe shrugged indifferently, “I’ve already got a wand, and I don’t want one that tends to whisper stupid ideas of obtaining power and grandeur in my head.” He shot the elderly wandmaker a sly grin, “To be honest, I’d like nothing more than to just burn it if only to watch Albus unravel.”

Thursday, 11 November 2021; Whitehall Academy

Classes were going really well in Harry’s opinion. By and large, the muggleborns and muggle-raised former Hogwarts transfers had settled into their new school and classes with minimal fuss. Hannah Abbott eventually got over her loneliness from missing her friend Susan when she’d discovered that Whitehall offered a drama club. Her natural bubbly personality rose back up to the top when she’d landed a pretty important speaking role for the club’s ironic choice in their upcoming play, ‘Elf the musical.’ Harry often wondered if they used the school’s elves as creative consultants.

He’d just gotten out of Transfiguration when Justin and Dean slid up alongside him; Justin gave him a suggestive waggle of eyebrows causing Harry to narrow his eyes cautiously, “Justin, I’m flattered but you should know that I don’t like boys like that.”

Dean laughed at Justin’s embarrassment, “I think what Justin meant by the eyebrow waggle was to warn you that we’ve heard chatter from the girls that they’re planning on staging a fashion runway show.”

Harry coughed his amusement, “I know. I’m the one who started that rumor. It’ll be held about a week from Christmas break.” He thumbed in Justin’s direction,” But that doesn’t explain his attempts to woo me.”

Justin finally scoffed, “I’m not attracted to you, Harry. I was just thinking of how lucky and unlucky you’re going to be surrounded by hordes of squealing girls. I heard that you’re going to be working with the seventh years no less!”

Harry stopped to open his locker and dump his books inside. “Yeah, so? I’ve worked with adults before; how are seventh year girls going to be any different?”

Justin’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to work up an answer before stuttering something along the lines of all those boobies being on display. Dean shook his head in bemusement and clapped his blushing friend on the shoulder, “You were probably trying to knock him off his game, weren’t you? Potter’s got nerves of steel. I’d bet it would take meeting the Queen to rattle you.”

Harry waggled a hand, “Well that depends on which queen I’m meeting. I’ve met a couple from other countries before and they’ve been nothing but nice with me. I think it’s because I intrigue them by being a world renowned child fashion designer.”

Dean cuffed Justin on the arm, “See? I told you, nerves of steel. You need any help with this runway show?”

Harry tilted his head in Dean’s direction and contemplated the offer, “Well, talk to the fashion design club president; her name is Riley Matthews. I know we could always use an Art Director to help decorate the stage. I can hang bunting and curtains if pressed, but I’d rather just leave it to someone else and just focus on the clothes. What would you like in return?”

Dean shrugged, “Just mention me in the press release, I’m not greedy.”

Harry held out his hand to shake on the agreement. “This doesn’t make it official and I’m sure Riley will want to speak with you to go over things but I’m positive that she’ll agree with your terms.”

Dean grasped his hand and shook it. “Great, any idea where she might be right now?”

Harry shook his head, “No, she’s a fourth year and has a different schedule than we do.”

Justin noticed the doors to the cafeteria opening, “Ooh, it looks like lunch is getting started. I heard that they’re serving pizza and pasta with garlic bread today.”

Hogwarts, same time

Neville trudged out of his own Transfiguration class and hitched up his book bag for the slog back up to his dorm so he could hopefully take a quick shower before lunch got started. Professor McGonagall had their class work in groups of four where they were attempting to change hamsters into mittens. He’d managed to get his to change with only a minimum of fuss (the mittens still had the original fur present.) The problem came when Ron caused his unfortunate animal to explode in a gory cloud of bone, guts, and blood which covered everyone in the group.

Neville, being the one directly in front, got the worst of the violent display of animal cruelty. Everything from his chest up had been covered in a sticky sludge with a string of partially destroyed intestine sliding down his face.

Minerva had cleaned him up as best she could but there were just some things that required a long, hot shower and perhaps an obliviation. Draco appeared alongside of him, shaking his head. “Tough break, Longbottom.”

Neville gave him a side-long glance of confusion, “Are you being nice to me, Draco? What’s your angle?”

Draco raised his hand solemnly, “No angle this time, Longbottom; just a friendly show of commiseration at your misfortune of being forced to work with Weasley. You’d think that after five older brothers, their parents would’ve figured out how to teach their children the basics so they wouldn’t come to school completely useless.”

Scratching a sticky spot on his cheek, Neville hummed an agreement. “You know you can call me Neville, right? We’ve been to too many Ministry parties to be on a last name basis. (Draco dipped his head in acceptance.) To tell you the truth, I really wish I could’ve gone with Harry and the other muggleborns to that new school of theirs. I got a letter from Harry who said that they’re learning things in Transfiguration like how to construct an ornate dollhouse from a single block of wood. What are we learning? How to cruelly transfigure animals into water goblets, mittens, and other useless things.” He let out a frustrated sigh.

Draco bobbed his head as they stopped at the landing of the stairs, waiting for it to finish swinging around. “I heard that their school is in the heart of London which means that when they get out of school they have so many places to go explore. I wish we had something like that here, all we got is Hogsmeade which according to the older years gets rather tiresome after the first couple of trips unless there’s some sort of social event to prepare for.”

“I’m surprised you feel that way. Weren’t you the one who made some scathing remark about ‘mudbloods’ not too long ago?”

Draco’s pale face flushed a bit, “Yeah, Professor Snape informed me of just how much of an idiot I was being for speaking like that in public. He says it’s one thing to talk like that in private with my friends, but to do so in the Great Hall was the height of stupidity, especially since Slytherins are supposed to keep their own council and not broadcast their feelings like loutish Gryffindors. His words by the way.”

The stairs swung into place prompting Neville to continue his climb. “I appreciate your help, thanks. I’ll talk to you later, Draco. I desperately need to wash off whatever Professor McGonagall missed.”

Once showered and redressed, Neville hurried his way down the stairs in an effort to make it to lunch on time. He passed by Mrs. Norris and called out an apology to the growling cat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Norris! I need to get to the Great Hall before Ron Weasley starts eating the plates.”

He slid into the Hall just in time to see Ron reaching for the platter of chicken legs. “Unhand those legs, Weasley! Merlin knows you’ve probably had enough. Leave some food for the rest of us.”

Ron scowled at him, “Leave off, Squib. I’m hungry.”

Neville grabbed a spot down a ways from the splash zone and scoffed, “Murdering defenseless hamsters really works up an appetite, right?” Ron’s eartips darkened, indicating his rising temper. Neville called out to Fred and George who were chuckling at their youngest brother’s plight. “Didn’t your parents teach you the basics on how to follow directions when using a wand and casting a spell before coming to Hogwarts? Ronnie here seems to have missed a couple of steps. Did you hear what happened an hour ago?”

George traded places with the kid next to Neville and draped his arm over the angry boy’s shoulder, “No, pray tell us what did our ignoble and hopefully adopted younger sibling do that caused young Lord Longbottom to be most wroth?”

Neville replayed what happened up in Transfiguration with the ill-fated hamster to mittens lesson. The twins (and pretty much everyone else) gagged at the thought of hamster guts going everywhere. “Professor McGonagall did her best, but I’m pretty sure some of it got in my mouth. Merlin knows I’ll be having nightmares for a while.”

Ron finally had enough humiliation and jumped to his feet before storming out of the hall, muttering about how the school should’ve gotten rid of the Squibs too when the muggleborns left. Fred patted Neville’s hand consolingly, “Don’t worry about him. Every family has its barrel scraper; I just hope our dear sister Ginny doesn’t take after him as well.”

George shook his head, “I don’t think it works like that, my slightly dumber brother. I think the intelligence levels are reset when a new gender is introduced into the Weasley sibling line-up.”

Neville and a few others laughed at the ping-ponging effect the twins were causing. “I mentioned this to Draco earlier, but there are times like that class where I wish I was with Harry and the others. They must have it so much easier than we do.”

The next day at Whitehall in Harry’s Charms class, all Harry could do was stare confusedly at the conglomeration of what used to be a bowl of gelatin he was attempting to charm into changing color. Whatever had just happened was now a cooling puddle of sludge. “Well, crap. I thought that was going to be easy…”

Monday 22 November, 2021; Malfoy Manor

Lord Lucius Malfoy was relaxing after yet another enjoyable battle for dominance at the Ministry when he sensed his wife Narcissa enter. She stalked over to the bar and poured herself a stiff drink then unceremoniously threw herself down into her favorite chair. Lucius quirked an eyebrow up and drawled, “Rough day of shopping, Cissy?”

She glared at him over the rim of her tumbler. “The dress shop I normally go to has raised their prices yet again! A dress which normally would’ve only cost me five hundred Galleons is now being sold for eight hundred! It’s absurd how expensive things have gotten these days. It’s not just my preferred shops either; everyone has been raising prices ever since the muggleborns left our world.”

Lucius hummed at that and scratched his ear, “It’s curious that they would need to raise prices. Things are settling down now that the mudbloods have departed. The streets are cleaner, the air seems more refreshed, and there’s less pushback to certain legislative proposals at the Ministry.”

Cissy finished her drink and idly played with the tumbler, “Isn’t there something you can do?”

He shook his head, “Unlike the control I enjoy over Fudge and his administration, there’s nothing I can do regarding prices of goods. That’s something that falls outside the Ministry’s purview unless it’s something drastic like a declaration of war.”

Cissy huffed in annoyance as she rose to her feet, “It feels like a war to me trying to buy what I want before the shopkeeper feels the need to raise prices again. Perhaps this is something you can raise with the Wizengamot at their next session.”

Lucius shrugged unconcernedly as he took a sip of his own drink. “If you feel that strongly about it, I shall do as you wish; but be warned that it might just die in committee.”

Time skip, Tuesday 21 December 2021; Wizengamot Winter Solstice meeting

Bam, bam, bam! The Chief Warlock banged the gavel before addressing the crowd, “If I might have your attention, please. All those without business to conduct are instructed to clear the chambers. Everyone else, if you’d please take your seats? Scribe, will you announce the agenda?”

Scribe Hensley stood up and cleared his throat. “First up is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore in conjunction with the Wizards Economic Council for both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade will be speaking about the recent surge of financial hardships being endured by the commercial districts.”

Albus rose to his feet and descended the steps from the visitor’s gallery. “Members of the Wizengamot! Since the start of November of this year, our hardworking shopkeepers have noticed a worrying trend of their lack of sales to the general public. We believe that this is direct correlation to the unfortunate loss of the muggleborn students and their families who were torn away from our loving and thriving community by their short-sighted queen. It is our proposal to create a new law that states when a student, regardless of blood status, has started at Hogwarts; they must complete all seven years lest they find their magic bound and their memories obliviated. The punishment may seem harsh, but it is no less than what their absence is doing to our shopkeepers’ livelihoods. If they are forced to close then not only will you be out of whatever goods they provide, but their families will be forced to look for work elsewhere.”

Murmurs of consternation and conversation echoed throughout the hall. Albus’ face remained solemn though internally, he was all but dancing with joy. ‘When they pass the bill, I will finally be able to get that Potter brat back under my control!’

The Chief Warlock banged on his gavel, “Are there any objections to the proposal?”

Lucius stood and lit his wand to be recognized. “Mr. Dumbledore (it amused him to see Albus bristle at that), I find your proposal to be rather…odd. Is it not a good thing to no longer be forced to mingle with a demographic of ‘people’ who are clearly not suited to our way of life? True, prices of goods have risen a fair amount but we’ve seen this sort of thing before; most notably at the start of the last conflict between the Dark Lord and the good citizens of our society. I remind everyone that once he’d fallen, those prices returned to more acceptable levels. (He gave the others a soft smile) Far be it from me to not rally around the pillars of business or to be pro-muggleborn, but I believe that this is nothing more than a pitiful attempt of the headmaster to regain control of one Harry James Potter who was wrested from his control and castle by the muggle queen who was dissatisfied with the quality of education Mr. Dumbledore was responsible for.”

Albus glared at the unrepentant grin that ghosted Lucius’ face. “I fail to see how the educational fate of one child could be compared to all the trouble that our shopkeepers are experiencing financially.”

“So you wouldn’t be offended to swear on your magic that your involvement with this proposal is not in any way related to an attempt to bring back the Boy-Who-Lived to our shores where he might be ‘guided’ by yourself for some nebulous concept?”

Albus drew himself indignantly, “I refuse to give such an oath. To do so without caution is a recipe for danger.”

Lucius shook his head ruefully, “Then I must object to this proposal as being nothing more than an old man railing against self-perceived injustices that affect no one but himself.” He sat down to a torrent of accusations being thrown back and forth of the political divide.

Another wand lit up for recognition, this time it was by someone most people had forgotten existed. “Royal Wizard for Her Majesty the Queen, Sir Michael Westerland.” The crowd silenced as a salt and pepper haired man calmly rose to his feet. “It is the opinion of Her Majesty that if Mr. Dumbledore and his cohort continues to act like spoiled children getting angry over something of their own making and threatening to have muggleborn children and their families forcibly returned to Hogwarts as well as the commercial centers of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade for the purposes of paying exorbitant prices over what is normally charged to the magically-raised for products they no longer need; or to be ‘educated’ at a failing school to assuage the wounded feelings of a self-absorbed and uncaring headmaster; She will have no recourse than to dissolve the Treaty of Separation for cause.”

There was a heartbeat of utter silence before the room erupted with roars of denials and accusations. Sir Michael waited until the Chief Warlock regained control. “Hogwarts feeds into the institutions of Magical Britain. The students and staff of Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry however provide skilled leaders of tomorrow for institutions around the world. How many of your magically-raised students are that highly sought after? Can they even identify other countries on a map?” He sent a reproving glare at each member before resuming his seat.

The Chief Warlock glanced about the room, “Anyone else who wishes to speak on behalf or against the proposal set forth by Albus Dumbledore?” When no one moved, he called for a vote. “Light your wands in green if you are in favor for the proposal to require the return of the muggleborn population and their families to our society.” Albus and his followers lit their wands, but there were still many who didn’t. “Those against, please light your wands in red.” The room was became tinged a bright red color. Without even bothering to count, it was clear to even the dimmest member that the proposal to force the muggleborns to return had failed.

Albus returned to his seat and sulked darkly. ‘This isn’t over yet.’

Monday 27 December, 2021; Dursley Residence

Neville and his grandmother arrived right on time via the portkey they’d received from the Ministry. Harry was on-hand to greet them. “Welcome to Casa de Dursley! I hope you enjoyed your trip and will consider Ministry Portkey Airlines for all of your travel needs.”

Neville burst out laughing at his friend’s impromptu skit, even Augusta was amused. “Nice one, Harry. How much are they paying you to advertise?”

Harry playfully punched his arm then respectfully bowed to Augusta, “Clearly not enough. Lady Longbottom, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

She smiled pleasantly, “Mr. Potter, Neville has spoken of you often.”

Harry gave Neville a haughty look and declared, “Whatever you’ve heard is all lies, I tell you! I do not have an entourage of deliriously drooling girls following me around all day long.” At her confused tilt of her head, he explained that Neville had teased him early on that when the other kids at Hogwarts found out that he was a fashion designer, he’d be swamped with eager followers begging to be the first to get a Potter original. “At our new school, they have rules against who’s allowed to wear what and when.”

“You have to wear a uniform, I’d imagine,” she mused as they approached the house.

Harry waggled his hand before reaching to open the door. “Not like Hogwarts, but we do have to wear a basic white shirt, tie, and trousers. Anything that would be considered ‘street clothes’ have to be worn underneath, or taken off until school lets out for the day.”

Once inside, he introduced the Longbottoms to his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Dudley excused himself saying that his friends were waiting for him so they could head into town. Harry took Neville into his studio. The pair chatted about this and that about what was the main point of interest for their respective schools; Neville retold the story about Ron’s exploding hamster incident then about the time when Professor Sprout’s Screaming Creeper plants snared him and refused to let go, prompting the professor to wade in with hand to vine combat for at least half an hour to extricate him from the leafy mass.

“The funny thing was, I got the distinct impression that the Creeper was doing it out of a strange plant sense of humor like brandishing a rubber chicken while declaring to your opponent that your captive would be given a large bottle of coffee and a noisy toy unless they conceded to your demands.”

Harry coughed his laughter at the mental image that conjured up. “At least it wasn’t like that Venomous Tentacular incident I experienced. Did Sprout injure the Creeper at all?”

Neville shook his head, “Nah, she just tied up a bunch of vines into knots until she could reach me. It seemed to know when defeat was at…leaf, I guess I should say and let me go.”

“That’s hilarious. Let’s see, what’s new on my end? Oh, I’m part of the fashion design club at school and we held our annual Christmas show for the staff, students, and parents. This year’s theme was ‘Ugly Christmas Sweater.’ Everyone who participated had to create an outfit based off the world’s ugliest sweater that could be found in the shops.”

Neville’s mouth hung open, “I wish I could’ve seen that! I’ve got a couple from my relatives that are distinctly hideous, and made worse because they were made magically which means they have orbiting Snitches, animals, or some other kinds of effects.”

Harry grimaced at the mental image those sweaters conjured. “You know, I had this grand plan to take you and your grandmother on a whirlwind shopping tour here in the muggle world to give you a taste of what you’ve been missing, but my aunt shot it down. Said it wasn’t the right time to brave the ravening hordes.”

Neville eyed him curiously, “If you were planning on showing me Harrods, I feel I should warn you that Gran and I already shop there. It’s been around long enough that even the most conservative member of Magical Britain knows about it.”

Harry threw up his hands, “See? Actually, I was thinking of showing you what you’ve been missing by taking the two of you to a Costco warehouse in Croydon. Imagine it, wall-to-wall bulk shopping of all sorts of goods that can’t be found anywhere in the magical world.”

Neville nodded sagely, “Yeah, they’re a lot of fun just to wander through, especially on the days when the kiosks are handing out free samples.” At Harry’s goggle-eyed stare, he burst out laughing. “Mate, we’ve got one up in Birmingham! Gran and I do most of our regular shopping there and only hit up Diagon for the magical-specific items when we need to.”

“But…but…”

Neville continued to chuckle at his friend’s impersonation of a gaping fish, “I’m from a progressive family. Sure, we’re purebloods and have been for generations, and while there’s a lot I don’t know about the muggle world, most Light-oriented families shop or even work in muggle companies because the opportunities are better. It’s only the darker families like the Parkinsons, Malfoys, and the like that stay within their narrow-minded views that magical and muggle should never mix yet I’m pretty sure even they’d recognize some of the bigger named companies. Merlin, I think even Draco has heard of Costco! He wouldn’t shop there but I think he does recognize some of the products when they’re used at some of the Ministry parties or at school whenever someone brings something in.”

Harry’s face was a picture of embarrassment before he let out a relieved sigh and a small snicker, “I’m glad you told me this. I was all set to take you on a whirlwind tour of ‘the wonders of the muggle commercial world.’ I would’ve looked like an idiot if you allowed me to continue.”

Neville let out a chuckle, “I would’ve let you and probably would’ve been able to sell tickets so everyone could get a chance to witness the ‘Great Harry Potter’ act like a fool.” He laughingly fended off a wadded up ball of paper and fabric scraps Harry threw in retaliation.

Harry slumped in his chair after the impromptu battle and sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here, Neville Longbottom. You’re a really good friend to have.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: A Temporary Patch for a Quick Fix

Wednesday 5 January, 2022; Hogwarts, morning tea

Neville watched with growing amusement at the panic that surrounded the Ravenclaws as they clamored to get a glimpse of the books he’d shown them, a couple of them looked like they were getting dangerously close to trading physical blows. The books were actually a gift set of textbooks from Harry, which in itself was a rather odd thing to get from anyone really; what set them apart from other textbooks he owned was that they had the Whitehall Academy Bookshop stamp on them. Additionally, the information contained within was clearly miles ahead of the comparable Hogwarts texts, meaning that while the Whitehall Transfiguration subject material were similar in content to his own, they explained the concepts far better than what he was used to using color photographs and animated slowly to show the wand movements (he smirked internally at the memory of Professor McGonagall nearly ‘drooling’ with intrigue and the false ‘threat’ to confiscate them when he shared them with her.)

“Explain to me again why the Claws are going bananas over those books?” Draco’s curious voice behind him startled Neville.

“Because they’re books and you know how they get when presented with something new?” Neville teased him back. His attention was momentarily diverted to where Professor Flitwick was making his way over to see what the commotion was all about.

Draco snorted and lightly shoved Neville’s shoulder, “I get that, but why the panic?”

Neville let a sly grin steal across his face. “I may have hinted that the books would vanish in ninety minutes as part of the enchantments the publisher put upon them to encourage sales.”

Draco stared at him for a moment before scoffing, “Perfect. I need to remember that trick. How long has it been?” He openly laughed at their Charms professor inadvertently getting shoved out of the way by two fifth year prefects in their desperate bid to copy the information.

Neville’s sly grin grew wider, “About two hours.”

Draco stared at him for a moment before he shook his head amusedly, “Are you sure you were sorted into Gryffindor?” A loud explosion from Flitwick’s wand halted any further chaos as he waded back in to sort out his frantic horde (the two aforementioned prefects looked horrified as they realized who they’d shoved.)

Up in Albus’ office…

Ever since he’d gotten his political arse handed to him by the muggle Queen’s Royal Wizard, Albus had sequestered himself in his office to plot on how to get his Grand Plan back on track. “Perhaps I’ve been looking at things too convoluted even for me. What if instead of focusing on just Potter, I move onto the Alternate as well? Potter may be temporarily lost to me, but the Longbottom boy is still here in the castle. Better still, he only has his grandmother to back him up and she’s easy to distract. I can let slip that a counterspell for the curse that is keeping her son and his wife in their current state has been found.”

The longer he contemplated, the more depraved his plots became until he’d reached another’s limit. Fawkes the Phoenix, though her name was really Ix, had long attempted to Guide Albus back to the Path of the Light since before the end of the Second World War and had overlooked a lot of her human’s actions in favor of the long-view, but even she had her limits. ‘It’s a shame but Albus is no longer capable of being Guided. It’s time to look for someone who isn’t driven to achieve power for power’s sake.’ She launched herself off her perch and with an anguished scream, burst into a supernova-like explosion of flame and heat that severed her bond with her Albus. That explosion threw Albus (and everything else not nailed down) across the room and set off alarms throughout the castle.

When Poppy, Minerva, and the other senior staff finally managed to enter the headmaster’s office, they were stunned to witness the carnage inflicted upon the contents and occupant. Albus lay crumpled up against the bottom of an open window, ultimately lucky that he hadn’t been three inches higher when he was launched across the room; Poppy rushed over to him and began casting diagnostic charms. An entire wall of books lay in ruins, their pages blackened and crispy from the flames. The remains of the table that used to contain those mysterious noisy trinkets Albus seemed to favor lay slowly cooling in the corner; the trinkets themselves were nothing more than metallic slag. Even the portraits of the former headmasters were singed, their occupants slowly creeping back in.

“What happened in here?” Minerva asked the room at large.

“Um, Minerva? “ She looked up to see former Headmistress Niamh Fitzgerald gesturing to get her attention. “According to Hogwarts, Albus’ phoenix severed its bond with him. She doesn’t know the specifics as to why the phoenix decided to do this, but I suspect that it has something to do with Albus’ behavior as of late.”

Poppy finished her scans of Albus and called for an elf. When one popped in, she instructed it to take Albus to the infirmary and leave him on one of the beds. “Preliminary scans suggest he’ll be fine eventually, but I’ll know more when I get back.” She grabbed her bag and hurried out of the room.

Filius looked sad as he carefully made his way over to the destroyed rare books; he flinched when a stack of what used to be treaties on arcane magic crumbled to dust when his foot accidentally touched them. “All that knowledge, lost forever.”

“I don’t think so,” Severus idly commented from where he was examining the remnants of the former trinkets table. “I’m pretty sure Irma has copies of everything literary in private storage. Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past her to demand it as part of her contract.”

Minerva shared a knowing glance with Pomona who sighed heavily, “You and I both know what really happened here. Albus no doubt started going down a dark path to recover Mr. Potter and Fawkes finally had enough.”

Pomona sharply nodded her agreement, “It serves the old goat right in my book.” She turned to head back outside, “If you don’t need me right now, I’m going to head back to my greenhouses. I’ve got a new shipment of seedlings due to come in at any moment.” The others bid her goodbye and returned to their perusal of what used to be a grand repository of knowledge.

Whitehall Academy, Oasis Sports Center, while the Hogwarts senior staff was trying to make sense of what happened…

Hermione lay on the ground panting from the exertion in trying to keep up with the others as they were ‘encouraged’ by their coach to do as many push-ups as they could in two minutes. She’d managed to get 20 push-ups before her arms collapsed. Rolling over and propping herself up so she wouldn’t breathe in the floor dust, Hermione was in the perfect position to witness a miracle as a phoenix appeared above her in a roiling ball of fire and song.

Eyes wide, she automatically raised her arm to give this majestic bird a place to perch. The moment its claws contacted her skin, she felt as if she’d drank an entire jug of caffeine so strong was the connection that simultaneously invigorated and cleared her mind. “Woah…hello?”

“Hello, young one. My name is Ix, I’m here to Guide you on the Path of Light so you can achieve the greatness that Magic has ordained for you. You’re welcome to address me by another name if you wish. My last human called me Fawkes, even though that is a male name.” Hermione ‘heard’ a distinctly female voice in her head, one tinged with a touch of humor.

“Ix?”

The Phoenix trilled a laugh, “I once Guided a human who had a difficulty making the ‘phoen’ sound and just shortened it down to ‘Ix.’”

Wide-eyed, Hermione could only dumbly nod her head, “Right. Well, what name would you prefer? What did you mother name you?”

“I doubt you’d be able to pronounce it with your human tongue, Ix will be fine until you decide otherwise. After the centuries of my life, one name is just as good as another.”

“Hermione?” Both bird and girl turned to see Coach Wendy Sharpell and the rest of the class staring in wonder at them. “What’s going on?”

Hermione turned her gaze back to the firebird, “I think I just bonded with her. Ix says she’s here to help guide me... Oh, really? Wow, I’m honored.”

“Ix?” Coach Sharpell queried.

Hermione blinked and blushed, “That’s what she said her name is, Coach. Ix says that she’s here to Guide me to become the best I can be as long as I don’t stray down into the Dark Arts.” A slight teasing grin passed over her face as she addressed the phoenix, “Does that mean I can’t dabble in noir?” Ix shook her feathers and reprovingly tapped Hermione sharply on the forehead causing the girl to giggle. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“What now?”

Hermione snickered at the indignant look on the bird’s face before explaining to her flabbergasted coach, “Noir is a style of artwork known for its dark settings. I was just asking if that counted as straying into the Dark Arts.” Now the coach joined the bird (and a couple of others) at giving the slightly overwhelmed girl an exasperated look. “So what do we do now?”

Coach Sharpell pointed towards the track, “Four laps, starting now.”

Hermione groaned as she climbed to her feet. “I’m being punished; I just know it. Will you wait for me, Ix?” Ix fluttered over to a nearby tree and settled in to watch her new human start off around the track with the others trailing behind.

When Hermione returned to the main campus, it became quite apparent that gossip was probably the only force in the universe that could exceed the speed of light as it seemed as if everyone had heard that she’d now bonded with a phoenix.

“Hey, bird brain!” Harry’s voice rang out over the din of the others moving throughout the hallway. Several former Ravenclaws subconsciously turned at his call as well.

Hermione huffed and hitched her fists on her hips, “What do you want, Potter?”

Harry grinned and gave the indignant girl a side-hug, “Sorry, couldn’t resist. So, where’s the bird?” Ix flashed into being and fluttered down onto Hermione’s shoulder. Harry’s jaw dropped open, “Woah, she’s beautiful…” His head cocked to one side, “Huh, I think I have a cape design similar to her feathers.”

Hermione smiled serenely as she reached up to stroke Ix’s chest feathers. “Isn’t she beautiful? She appeared and bonded with me during Phys Ed earlier. She says her name is Ix though her last human named her Fawkes. Harry?”

Harry’s eyes had widened comically. “Dumbledore was rumored to have a phoenix named Fawkes.”

Ix trilled through her link with Hermione, “Yes, Dumbledore is the one who last ‘owned’ me. I was unable to keep him from going Dark and decided to cut my losses. It saddens me to do it, but he was plotting the kidnap and subjugation of your young friend there and another boy in that castle.”

Hermione’s jaw swung open as she relayed what Ix had told her. Harry’s face hardened, “That bastard. He just can’t accept that he lost and now he’s going after someone else? If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a call.” He dug out his cell phone (electronics clearly worked at Whitehall even around all the magic, which just proved that the myth that electronics and magic couldn’t mix was just that, a myth.) He tapped in a phone number and listened to the ringing. When the line connected, he greeted the other person. “Hello, Director Bones? This is Harry Potter, I have information I think you should know about.”

After school, Hermione practically flew down the escalators towards the exit where she met up with her mum. “You’ll never believe what happened to me today! I bonded with a phoenix!”

Emma stared curiously at her chattering daughter, “A what?” Ix took that moment to flash in the backseat of the car and chirp a greeting. Emma’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s a phoenix? Hermione! You…we can’t…how are you supposed to take care of her?”

Hermione turned around and asked Ix if she could do that telepathic speaking thing with her mum. Ix nodded and turned to Emma. “Taking care of me will not be an issue, Mrs. Granger. I’m more than capable of hunting for my own food. I chose your daughter because she is of pure heart and has a positive outlook on life with no aspirations of straying down a darker path in a mistaken quest for power over others. It is my intention to help her achieve all that she can to make the most of what she chooses to do with her education and friendships.”

Emma’s mouth gaped open and closed a few times before letting her shoulders slump, “Alright, I guess but this will be discussed in greater depth when we get home.”

The next day, Hermione met up with Harry who asked her what her parents’ reactions were like regarding their daughter bonding with a phoenix.

“To be honest, I think my dad is okay with it. Mum on the other hand, was rather wistful about not being able to show Ix off to any of their friends.”

“What did Ix have to say about that?” he asked in between popping a handful of grapes into his mouth.

“She suggested that I study up on glamour charms specifically designed for animals. Ix implied it wasn’t uncommon for one of her previous humans to disguise her as a hawk or an eagle for a day on the town.”

They continued down the way to the planetarium for their Astronomy class, occasionally waving or greeting people they recognized. Harry frowned mid-chew before finishing his mouthful, “Is she limited to just England or could she find someone anywhere in the world?”

Hermione cocked her head curiously, “I don’t recall. Why?”

“Mmph, I just wondered why out of everyone in the world, she chose you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a fantastic person, but I’d imagine that after however many centuries she’s lived, Ix must have developed a sort of sense of what kind of person they’d become before they become it.” He wiped his face from the grape juice that squished out of his mouth. “It also begs the question of what she saw in Dumbledore before he became what he is today.”

Slowly bobbing her head, Hermione cautiously replied that she’d hoped that whatever life had in store for her, it would involve him and his clothes. “Aside from Lavender, you’re my best friend.” The sweetness of the moment was broken when Harry put on a soppy sigh of adoration and sent cow-eyes at her. She playfully swatted his arm, “Prat.”

Friday 14 January, 2022; Hogwarts

Neville walked into a normally unused class and headed over to the discarded teacher’s desk where he pulled out a set of instructions that Harry’d sent him along with a small box of supplies for this chemical demonstration. The others in the room watched silently as he set up a porcelain bowl on the table. He casually sent a teasing smirk around the room, “Thank you for attending. My name is Professor Neville Longbottom and this demonstration is courtesy of Harry Potter who showed me that Potions can be fun too. What I’ll be showing you is called the ‘Black Snake Experiment’ or the more toxic version known as the ‘Pharaoh’s Serpent.’ The Pharaoh’s Serpent uses a chemical known as (he checked his notes) mercury thio-cyan-ate… which breaks down into mercury (II) sulfide, carbon disulfide, and carbon nitride.”

He glanced up at them and smiled to see that he had their full attention. “Now, we won’t be getting to that version simply because of the toxicity of the ingredients. Instead, we will be focusing on the simpler Black Snake version. The Black Snakes are small, non-exploding fireworks that you ignite to push out a growing column of black ash. While you can buy these fireworks, they are easy to make using kitchen ingredients and a fuel source. (He gestured to his ingredients) So, to start I have here roughly 16.75 grams of powdered or confectioner sugar (sucrose); 4 grams of baking soda (sodium bicarbonate), a little bit of rubbing alcohol as a fuel source, and sand or dirt for it to sit in.” He began measuring things out and layering them into the bowl.

Slytherin firstie Theo Nott warily backed up, “Are you sure you should be messing around with this stuff, Longbottom? We all remember your other disasters in this class.”

Neville gave him a dirty look, “That’s only because our classes don’t go into the theory side of what, how, and why things react the way they do. Harry sent me this book on simple chemistry projects that we can do at home or for school projects, and I’ve learned more from this one book than I have from any of Professor Snape’s classes.” He lit the alcohol and smiled triumphantly as the sugar/baking soda mixture began burning and a black snake began slowly rising from the sand. The others crowded in, oohing and ahhing at the incredible sight. “See? It’s just like magic.”

“I’m impressed, Mr. Longbottom.” The kids whirled around to see Professor Snape looming in the doorway, a scowl marring his face. “It’s not every day when a student dares to challenge me so directly.” He stalked over to the desk and peered down at the bowl with the still-rising snake. He reached out and tapped the portion that had already formed and sneered as it crumbled under the barest of pressure. “Pitiful. This construct clearly needs work, professor.”

Neville touched on his burgeoning Gryffindor resolve and glared back at the dour man, “It’s supposed to do that, Professor Snape. If you’d read the instructions first like any proper student, you would’ve known that.”

The others gasped quietly and backed up out of range. Severus glared darkly at Neville, “Ten points from Gryffindor for experimenting with unauthorized materials.”

Neville’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he reached into his bag and slapped down a piece of paper. “Permission straight from Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Feel free to contact her if you have any issues with me proving that you’re a lousy teacher.”

Anger flared in Severus’ dark gaze, “Detention, Longbottom. I will not have you…”

“No.”

“What did you say?” Severus growled.

Neville held his ground, “I will not be at that detention! I have done nothing to warrant that detention or those points lost. If you have a problem with me, take it up with my Head of House.” He packed up his materials and stormed off towards the door. “Class dismissed.”

Minerva’s office, a few minutes later…

Minerva sighed and gave Neville a mildly disgusted look after hearing the pre-teen boy’s description of the confrontation. “While I can’t argue that Professor Snape is a…strict teacher; you really cannot go around insulting him, Mr. Longbottom.”

Neville crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, “I didn’t; or rather I didn’t insult him openly, as if I’d done so let’s say in the Great Hall in front of everyone. I called him out for his lack of teaching in a private classroom with only a few others.”

Minerva just held her gaze for a moment before letting a rare smile grace her features, “You know, right now I’m seeing the spitting image of your mother arguing her case as to why she should’ve been prefect instead of who I’d picked. You and she clearly share the same sort of attitudes towards perceived injustice. Stubbornness seems to be a family trait.”

Neville perked up, “Really?”

Minerva bobbed her head, another smirk threatened to erupt. “Yes, mind you I still gave her detention for it only because of how…vulgar she’d become.”

Neville blinked, “Mum swore? Gran never mentioned anything like that.”

Finally letting out the laughter that had been bubbling up, Minerva replied, “Oh dear. Alice Fortescue could curse a blue streak that would’ve made a Goblin blush when properly riled! I remember asking her once if she had any Irish or Scottish in her family.”

Neville’s eyes glazed over in recollection then shook his head. “No, Gran mentioned once that her family originated in Normandy, France and immigrated to England sometime in the seventeenth century. As far as anyone knows, her family has remained steadfastly English the entire time since then.”

“Aye, that’s what she told me as well. To be honest, the only other person within her group of friends who could come close to matching her intensity was Lily Evans, Harry Potter’s mother.” Minerva recalled fondly then sat up and cleared her throat, “Mr. Longbottom, it pains me to allow Professor Snape’s point reduction and detention to stand but I cannot allow you to insult him in public, no matter how small that audience is; since we both know how fast gossip spreads around the castle. However, rather than subject you to his ‘tender’ mercies, you will spend that detention with me. I think an evening of hearing about how much of a troublemaker your mother was should be a good lesson in controlling your emotions.”

Despite the rebuke, Neville grinned at her ruling. “I understand, professor.”

Teacher’s meeting, at the end of the day

“Minerva? I understand there was a bit of an altercation between Mr. Longbottom and Professor Snape?” Albus addressed his deputy once the meeting began. Severus remained impassive in his seat when Minerva gave him a dirty look.

“Yes, Mr. Longbottom had my permission to hold a demonstration to show how some simple ingredients that could be found in just about any home could produce a curious chemical reaction. I had him walk me through his experiment beforehand to prove that he knew what he was doing. I concluded that the experiment was safe and posed no threat to anyone who attended.”

“I don’t remember you receiving your qualifications as Potions Mistress, Minerva,” Severus drawled. “Remind me when that happened?”

The school’s matron, Poppy Pomfrey tapped the table, “I was there too, Severus and I agree with what Minerva said. Mr. Longbottom’s demonstration was completely safe and a lot of fun too. I daresay that there will be more experiments like that popping up soon enough.”

Albus held up a hand, staving off whatever retort Severus was about to say. “What ingredients were involved, if I may ask?”

“Sugar, baking soda, a bit of alcohol, and a plate of sand.” Minerva sharply replied.

Flitwick piped up, “That’s it? Then what was all the fuss?”

Minerva thumbed in a seething Severus’ direction, “Mr. Stinkypants there is just peeved that someone is showing they’re more talented in holding a lesson where everyone can actually learn something instead of just throwing the instructions up on the board then yelling at them when they inevitably make a mistake.” Snorts and coughs of laughter erupted after her address of ‘Stinkypants.’

Albus gave her a patronizing look, “Really, Minerva; insults are beneath you. Severus? Is there any room in your lesson plan for such demonstrations?”

Severus shook his head, “I have too much to do to waste my time teaching these dunderheads how to mix useless recipes together to create something flashy.”

Minerva sent him a McGonagall Level Three Glare which subconsciously caused Severus to squirm uncomfortably. “I’m at the point where I understand why the muggleborns are thriving in their new school, especially in the subject of potions. They no longer have to put up with you being such a sourpuss.”

Albus coughed lightly, “Now, now Minerva…”

She whirled on him, “Don’t give me that condescension, Albus! I’m just saying what anyone who’s ever interacted with him before has felt.” She turned back to Severus and leveled a warning finger at him, “I’m putting you on notice as per my authority as Deputy Headmistress; either start teaching as per Ministry Guidelines or find yourself another job, Severus Snape! If you do not shape up by the end of the school year, I will have no choice than to terminate your contract (she shut Albus up with a similar glare) and if you try to block me, I will take this straight to Director Marchbanks who has the final authority to override you as well. If Mr. Longbottom wishes to hold more impromptu fun potions lessons, then he has my full support.”

Filius’ eyes twinkled at Pomona who shared his amusement, “Never a dull meeting when Minerva lets out her inner Scot.”

Whitehall Academy, dismissal time

Harry and Lavender solemnly approached Mr. and Mrs. Granger as they waited with Petunia to pick up their respective children. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it saddens me to present you with this bag of bits which is all that I could gather up after your daughter literally burst with excitement after my fashion tutorial class ended.” Lavender clamped her lips together in a valiant effort to keep from laughing.

Mr. Granger stared oddly at the bag full of what looked like confetti, while Mrs. Granger let out a soft snort of amusement. “Well, that’s an awful shame,” she drawled in a leading tone of voice. “Isn’t it, dear?”

Mr. Granger caught on a second later and agreed with his wife, “It is. I guess we’ll just have to sell all of Hermione’s favorite books to that scrap collection service.”

A burst of flame and song preceded the arrival of an indignant screech from the girl in question. “Touch my books and I’ll turn you into a newt again!” Lavender was now practically doubled over with laughter.

Harry chuckled at the Monty Python reference as he draped an arm across her shoulders. Ix simply stepped up and resettled herself, trilling with amusement at the love and gentle teasing being displayed. “You turned them into a newt?” He gave the two adult Grangers an appraising look before sending the huffing girl a questioning glance.

Hermione hitched her fists on her hips and gave him a haughty glare, “Well, they got better, didn’t they?”

Smiling at the punchline to the clearly rehearsed joke the three kids had played on Hermione’s parents, Petunia tapped Harry on the arm. “Have I mentioned recently how much I approve of your friends? Come on, we need to hit the road before the traffic gets too bad.” She waved her farewells to the Grangers as she led Harry over to where she’d parked. They had to sit there for a few minutes to let Petunia get over her case of the giggles. “Monty Python, always a classic.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled, “I would’ve gone with the American comedy of Abbott and Costello’s ‘Who’s On First’ routine. Now that’s funny!”

 Monday 17 January, 2022; Whitehall Academy, morning tea

Harry quietly snuck into the pantry where the kitchen staff kept their spices and hunted around for two specific containers. He pulled his wand and cast a Switching spell swapping out one for the other then put them back on the shelves.

‘Operation Hot Time is a go!’

Sally-Anne Perks watched Harry Potter behave in a most unusual manner. Normally, the black haired boy would be working on leftover homework, sketching up some new piece of clothing, or even crafting something but today he seemed to be a ball of nervous energy as if eagerly awaiting something. She nudged her best friend and jutted her chin to where he sat. “Does Harry Potter seem almost manic today?”

Her friend glanced over her shoulder to the fidgety boy, “Now that you mention it. I wonder what that’s about?”

Their questions were answered a moment later as the shouts of consternation and gagging erupted all around them as the students began choking and gulping water like there was no tomorrow. Sally-Anne grabbed the arm of a passing teacher and pointed, “What happened?”

The teacher shook his head ruefully, “It seems that some prankster swapped the contents of the cinnamon shakers with chili powder.”

The two girls glanced over to where Harry was practically doubled over, laughing triumphantly even while fending off the trash being thrown at him by his tablemates. “Boys.”

Later that morning…

Harry ducked just in time to watch another one of Seamus’ accidental fireballs go shooting over his head, quickly followed by a bellowed yell of apology from the boy in question. Professor Elaine Wallace, their teacher for General Theory of Magic hurried past him to extinguish the fire burning a table in the hallway. “Does anyone have a clue as to why Seamus’ wand keeps overreacting like that?”

Professor Wallace shook her head as she put the table back to rights. “No, and it worries me since Mr. Finnegan says he got his wand from Ollivander’s. Old and eccentric he might be, there is no one I know that has a deeper understanding of wand lore who would willingly let a dangerous wand like that out of his shop.” She shooed Harry off to his next class and headed over to where Seamus was still apologizing to Justin who’d lost his hat to the escaping fireball. “You, follow me.”

Lunchtime…

Harry was slurping up some ramen soup when he noticed Seamus when the Irish boy staggered into the dining hall and waved him over, “Hey, what’s wrong?” He helpfully filled a spare bowl with the leftover soup and pushed it over.

Seamus nodded his thanks, “Nothing, I just got a new wand that’s all. Ten inches Hazel entwined with Red Oak and has a dragon heartstring core.”

Justin whistled his appreciation. “Did they ever find out what was wrong with your old wand?”

Seamus bobbed his head, “Yeah, a search through the wood supplier’s records showed that the grove which the tree came from had gotten hit by lightning which supposedly altered it so it would overreact to magical casting. When Ollivander found this out, he agreed that it would’ve quadrupled the power I applied to it. He apologized for not recognizing this when he sold the wand to me and matched me with this one for free.”

Harry held up a chopstick, “So can you safely set this on fire?”

Seamus’ face split into a grin and tapped the tip of the chopstick and incanted, “Ignis.” There was a slight popping noise followed by the ‘psh-issht’ noise similar to striking a match. Harry’s chopstick burned for a moment before he snuffed it out.

Fellow firstie transplant and former Ravenclaw Terry Boot clapped his hands, “Congratulations, Seamus. I bet you’re relieved.”

Seamus sighed as he reached for the extra seasonings shaker, “I am. I’ll be even happier when that nickname of mine fades from everyone’s memory.”

Dean snickered then ducked to avoid a wadded ball of serviette thrown at him, “Never going to happen, Fireball Finnegan.”

Tuesday 18 January, 2022; Whitehall Academy, General Theory of Magic class

Professor Wallace began the lesson by handing out copied worksheets to her class. “Today we will be focusing on the different types of magical communication. Can anyone here give me an example of what those are?” Hands immediately shot up in the air. She picked one person who replied, “Howlers.”

“Exactly. Now can anyone tell me what sort of messages can go into a Howler and why they’re called ‘Howlers’ in the first place?”

Sophie Roper shot her hand up, “Pretty much anything can be used in a Howler, professor and they’re called that because they shout or scream at the people they’re sent to.”

Professor Wallace beamed proudly, “Precisely, Miss Roper. On the sheets I’ve passed out to you are some suggestions for a Howler message. I want each of you to take a sheet of specially prepared Howler paper, write the message you’ve chosen onto it, then cast the activation charm, and send it to someone in this class. If you do this correctly, the Howler paper will turn a crimson red. The recipient will then need to open it to trigger the effect.”

Hermione crowded in with Lavender to look over the available messages which included:

(Sappy sad music included with enchantment)

“Do you know for only a few sickles a day, you can make a difference in a homeless house-elf’s life? Please, they are suffering and need your help right now. Won’t you donate to the Society for the Prevention of Elvish Cruelty, Indignities, and Evisceration?”

>>> 

(A jaunty jingle included with enchantment)

“Like a good neighbor Castle and Cave Insurance is here to help you get back on your feet after any disaster. If a dragon or giant comes blundering through your home, call us. We’re here to help…”

(A rapid listing of exclusions, limitations, and disclaimers is included with the buzzing speed of a squirrel on energy drinks)

>>> The pair giggled while reading the next one.

(A mournful dirge included with enchantment)

“Wizards, are you experiencing wand issues? Is your witch stepping out to get her cauldron cleaned? Then you need for Fellas Floohealth. A discrete and personalized way to get the help you need without an awkward healer visit! Floo us today.”

>>> 

(A sing-song ditty included with enchantment)

“Did you spend through your Galleons too quickly? Feeling your Knuts fall away every time you or your witch visit Diagon Alley? Sick of being without any Sickles to rub together? Then stop by Cash’n’Go Goblin Loan Services! If you got a job, we got the gold you need.

(An even more rapid buzz of disclaimers, limitations, and implied threats occurs in a whisper pitched so high only werewolves and other canines are able to hear it included enchantment)

Lavender glanced at Hermione who was wheezing from laughter, “Which one should we do?”

Hermione shook her head as she tried to calm her breathing. She pointed off towards where Harry was sitting and coughed out, “Harry!” When he looked up, she motioned him over, “Do you want to join our group? I had the idea that we should use your slogan for this project.” Harry’s eyes lit up at that prospect and nodded eagerly.

Lavender peered at the instructions, “Okay, so what we’re supposed to do is write what we want the Howler to scream then power it with a push of magic. Seems easy enough…”

Harry scratched out his rough draft, “Okay, here’s what I got so far. I copied the playback enchantments for the Insurance advertisement and tied them to the opening of the letter. I swapped out the message portion of their ad with my own here.” He tapped it with his wand so the voice began singing, “Welcome to Potter’s Threads; the mystical land of high fashion at reasonable prices. Remember, if your clothes aren’t becoming to you, then you should be coming to me!” When it finished, he picked up his pencil to make a note to investigate something later. “After that, I scratched out that jumble at the end since we don’t need it anymore.”

Lavender shook her head in amazement, “You’re really good at this enchanting stuff, Harry.”

Blushing, Harry replied that he’d looked into what sorts of things he could learn in the subject that could be applied to fashion design. “As it turns out, there’s a ton of stuff I could potentially use.”

Friday 21 January, 2022; Whitehall Academy

“Hi, Harry!” Harry turned at the sound of Lavender’s voice to greet her. “I was wondering if you have any plans for Valentine’s day.”

His brow scrunched up, “Aren’t we a little young to be getting involved with it?”

Lavender waved her hand dismissively, “I wasn’t talking about the lovey-dovey stuff. I was hoping you’d have another fitting like you did for Hermione.”

Understanding blossomed on his face, “Oh, right… (He dug into his phone’s calendar to see what he’d planned) Well, let’s see… I have the Spring ’22 catalog release scheduled for the eighteenth I need to oversee, um…no, it doesn’t look like I have anything critical. I do have a tutorial I’m slated to run for the fashion club on the twenty-first. Was there something special you wanted to get fitted for?”

Lavender swayed back and forth on her toes a bit, “I was thinking of getting a special outfit made. My mum and dad are taking me to a Ministry ball for the Spring Equinox.”

Harry pursed his lips in thought, “So did you have any themes you wanted to stick with or were you just looking for something that says, ‘Look at me’?”

She dug into her bag and pulled out a glossy fashion magazine then turned to a dog-eared page and pointed to an outfit. “This one. I was hoping to get something like this.”

Harry examined the photo. The dress was clearly made for an older teen or even a young adult but that wasn’t an issue for him. “Lavender color, naturally. Sweetheart neckline… a bell-shaped skirt, midi-length hemline… hmm, sleeveless with butterfly-floral embroidery on the skirt. Would you want pockets with this?” Her eyes lit up at the prospect of pockets causing him to chuckle. “Okay, I can add pockets. Was there a specific fabric you had in mind?” She shook her head and replied that it just had to be something nice to look at and feel. “Alright, I can have a couple of sketches worked by Monday. I can email them to you once they’re done for your approval then we can figure out pricing and an initial fitting.”

“What’s involved with that?”

He waved his hand desultorily, “I’ll have you come over to my studio where I can get your measurements and we can get a mock-up made out of muslin before handing it off to Sunny to make the official pattern and first article. Once that’s done, we can work on some special enhancements I’ve been wanting to try out.”

Lavender beamed, “Thanks, Harry. So what’re you going to do for that tutorial?”

“I’d planned on showing how to make a backpack using old denim jeans.” He showed her his photo album of some of his already completed backpacks. A couple looked like they were made entirely from pockets.

She pointed to the one with the pockets. “That one looks like fun.”

Harry agreed with her, “Even if you don’t finish within the time span allotted, you’ll still get to take it all home with the instructions.”

“Will magic be involved with the construction?”

“You bet. I’ll be teaching everyone how to charm your needles to sew a basic straight stitch.”

Her mouth dropped open, “You know how to do that?”

“Oh sure,” he replied nonchalantly, “It’s not like it’s a difficult charm to learn. One of the seventh years in our club taught it to us in about ten minutes. According to her, it’s a variation of the Locomotor charm.”

The bell rang, prompting them to get moving. Lavender bumped his shoulders playfully. “I can’t wait.”

Tuesday 1 February, 2022; Hogwarts, Third Floor Corridor

Defense professor du jour Quirnius Quirrell strode confidently down the hidden passageway that bypassed all of the so-called ‘traps’ Albus had instructed his teachers to set up in order to capture the person or persons rumor had suggested were coming for Nicholas Flamel’s legendary Philosopher’s Stone that was being housed here in the castle.

“Master, for what reason would the Headmaster set the difficulty of these…traps to their lowest setting? Any enterprising or well-read first year could get past them.”

“I do not know nor care, Quirrell,” Voldemort whispered in his mind. “Just get me that Stone and you will be rewarded.”

The passageway emptied out into the final room where the Mirror of Erised resided. It was propped up and illuminated with a nimbus of light from above. The room itself was cold and quiet; not even the scratching of mice or insects could be heard. Quirnius approached the mirror and peered into the reflective surface. The instructions he’d gleaned from the scant amount of clues from the headmaster indicated that he needed to think of what he desired most of all. “I see myself presenting the Stone to my Master, but how do I get it? Where else could it be if not here?”

He leant in a bit too close and brushed the surface with his fingertips. There was a flash of light that stunned both the host and the rider.

When Quirrell awoke, the first thing he noticed was that the room seemed to be darker than before. “Master?”

“Oh, my head…what happened?”

“No idea, but does it seem darker in here to you too?” He unraveled the turban hiding Voldemort from view and slowly spun around so he could see the room.

Voldemort frowned, “Yes, it does seem darker. Are the torches still working?” Quirnius snapped his fingers but the torches on the wall remained cold. “Odd. Make your way back up to the main part of the castle.”

That proved easier said than done. The floor of the passageway was now crumbling with thick roots growing out of the walls and ceiling that hadn’t been there during their previous trip. More than a few times, Quirrell had to cast cutting spells to make enough room for him to pass. By the time he’d reached the landing just to the left of the entrance where the Cerberus was located, Quirrell was tired, dirty, and had a large gash in his robes.

He stopped and stared at the scene before him, “What the…?”

Hogwarts was a shell of its former self. Most of the roof above them had caved in, entire panels of the stained glass windows were broken, cracked, or just plain missing. None of the portraits had occupants in them and the ones that featured landscapes were frozen or severely damaged in some way. The infamous swinging stairs had stopped working and judging by the amount of debris, dust, and dirt collecting everywhere; this condition had been going for a long time.

“What happened here?”

One week later, at the next staff meeting…

“Does anyone know where Quirnius or Severus disappeared to?” Professor Vector inquired during a lull in conversation. Everyone glanced at each other, a few murmured their curiosity and denial of knowledge of his whereabouts.

Poppy revealed that Severus was still down with a bit of a cold so he ought to be in his quarters sleeping.

Minerva shot Albus a curious look, “Do you think Quirell’s fallen afoul of the so-called ‘DADA curse’?”

Albus pondered that for a moment, “It does seem like there’s a curse, but no I can’t say that I’ve seen him recently. That begs the question as to who’s been covering his classes if he’s not here.” He rose to his feet to check on something in his office. “Continue with the meeting, I’ll return in a few minutes.”

With Albus gone, Minerva took control of the meeting. “Any other gripes they wish to air?”

When he returned, Albus had a curious expression visible even through all the hair on his face. “It is most perplexing. The wards report that he was in the castle. A couple of the portraits remember seeing him head towards the third floor corridor and take the secret entrance that allows us to bypass the traps. Maybe he went to go check on the status of that troll he’d brought in and something happened?”

“If that troll rebelled, it’s unlikely that he would’ve survived the encounter,” Pomona worried.

Minerva looked up at him, “We’re essentially done with the meeting. Go trace his last known path and see if maybe he got caught in that bypass tunnel. Merlin knows that there’re a couple of loose pavers in there.”

Albus pursed his lips before nodding his agreement. “Keep me apprised of what transpired here.”

The Cerberus room was checked and cleared; the three-headed dog was playing with an oversized chew toy. The Devil’s Snare was slithering around looking for victims but hadn’t tried to escape yet. The charmed keys were still fluttering about, and the chess pieces in the next room were chatting amongst themselves or sending the other side rude gestures. “Curious, nothing seems out of place.”

He peeked into the Troll room and discovered the troll seemingly playing a game of whacking loose debris up against the wall and laughing when they bounced. “All’s fine here too. Where are you Quirnius?”

Albus moved onto Severus’ potions’ trap but nothing was amiss there as well so he casually entered the final room where the mirror resided. He peered around the room briefly before pulling his wand and casting several diagnostic charms which revealed that someone had been in here but had left long ago.

“Strange, even for Hogwarts.” He examined the mirror and determined that the Stone was still in place where he’d put it nearly a month ago. He shook his head and returned to the passageway to make his way back up to his office. As he was waiting for the stairs to swing into position, he spotted Severus stumbling down the hallway brandishing a bottle. He hurried as fast as his aged legs could carry him and grabbed his Potions Master by the shoulder, “Severus! Is everything alright?”

Severus gave him a drunken grin and a sloppy kiss on the cheek, “Hem-mister! Hi! Didya hear? –Hic- The Dark Lord is –hic- gone! Kaput! Buh-bye!” He took a long swig from the bottle of what could only be alcohol and twirled around like he was a carefree first year singing in the key of ‘off’ some tuneless song that only he could hear.

Mystified by the drunken man’s behavior, Albus quietly stunned him before calling for Poppy. When she arrived, one eyebrow rose curiously. “What happened?”

“He’s drunk, Poppy. The last time I saw him that bad was two days before Halloween for the tenth anniversary of Voldemort’s downfall.”

Poppy shuddered at the mention of that demon’s name. “Very well, help me get him to the infirmary.” Once they arrived, Poppy promptly vanished the man’s clothes and replaced them with hospital-issue pajamas. She cast several diagnostics and confirmed that Severus Snape was definitely drunk as a skunk. It was when she examined his Dark Mark that she noticed that something was amiss. “Albus!”

Albus joined her at Severus’ bedside, “Yes, Poppy? What did you find?”

She pointed to the Mark, “Does that look like it’s pulsing in and out of focus?”

When he bent down to examine the skull and snake, he was surprised to see that it was indeed fading in and out as opposed to its ‘normal’ state of just being washed out.”Unusual, this hasn’t happened before. Excuse me, I need to make a floo call.” He made his way over to the floo where he dashed in a handful of Floo Powder, “Malfoy Manor!”

Lucius Malfoy’s face appeared in the flames. “Headmaster? Is there a problem?”

Albus bobbled his head briefly, “I have a bit of an odd request to make, Lucius. Your Dark Mark, what’s its condition right now?”

Lucius carefully regarded him before pulling back his sleeve. To his surprise, it too was slipping in and out of existence. “What the…”

Albus grimaced, “The same thing is happening to Severus and dare I say, anyone who got Marked on your side. If you would please confirm this with your colleagues?”

Lucius numbly nodded his agreement. “I’ll get back to you.” The firecall disconnected, returning the flames to their normal orange color.

“Albus?” He turned to see Poppy watching him.

“It seems as if we have yet another mystery on our hands, my dear; one I admit I don’t have the foggiest idea on how to handle.”

Meanwhile…

Under other circumstances, Quirrell might’ve actually enjoyed his new surroundings. He’d managed to get down from the third floor to ground level with judicious use of levitation spells and a bit of transfiguration whereupon he exited the ruins as fast as he could. What he saw nearly caused his brain to split into two. Somehow the castle appeared to have been bombed then later abandoned which defied explanation since the wards that protected the valley should’ve rendered the place unplottable and therefore invisible to muggles.

He apparated down to London only to be confronted with yet another shock to his system. The entire city was clearly abandoned and falling into ruin. Plant and animal life was slowly making its way back into dominance over the man-made concrete and glass monuments to humanity, but there was no sign of that humanity anywhere. The Underground had been flooded, no power of any kind ran to the buildings, the once bustling and noisy muggle city was now silent save for the occasional hoots, barks, or other noises generated by animals.

Even Voldemort was unnerved by what he saw. “This shouldn’t be possible. Find the entrance to the Ministry. Perhaps whatever happened here didn’t affect them.”

As luck would have it, the enchantments that powered the telephone kiosk still worked, albeit shakily as the booth rattled as it descended into the earth below. When it reached the bottom, both Quirrell and his Master stared in horror at the ruins that lay before them. Everywhere they looked it was nothing but dereliction of the offices and hallways. They chanced upon the stairs and took them down to the Hall of Records which housed everything anyone could ever want to know about what was happening or had ever happened in their world.

Quirrell lamented that it was a shame that they couldn’t have recovered the Stone before now. “Two of us searching would’ve made things go quicker.”

“Shut up and keep searching. Try over to your left, I think I saw something.”

That something turned out to be a stack of newspapers, the most recent dating back to the time of the Second World War. The headline story announced a sweeping sickness that was infecting all that stood in its path regardless of their magical immunity or not. Hundreds had already died from the debilitating symptoms. “Master, does any of this sound familiar?”

“Not quite. I do remember a story that had swept through my area of London while growing up. A virulent strain of something called ‘tularemia’ was tested as a biological weapon against the Chinese by Japanese forces and would be shared with the Germans soon. Nothing ever came from it so it faded into the background. I would hazard a guess that maybe we’ve been transported into a world in which that weapon was actually used.”

A week later…

Quirrell stared sightlessly at the decaying landscape. He had wandered back up to the surface and found a reasonably secure location for the night atop the remnants of the Big Ben clocktower. It took several bouts of reinforcing magic, but he successfully laid down some wards that would extend the life of the rusting structure at least until morning.

“Why are you wasting your time staring off into nothing when there’s work to be done? Go out and hunt something. I’m getting tired and this body of yours is weak from hunger.”

Quirrell dared not verbalize what he really wanted to say lest it draw his Master’s attention and subsequent punishment. ‘This is my punishment. I’ve been sentenced to Hell on a dead world for my short-sighted belief in the difference between good and evil. I thought I could persuade the Dark Lord into sharing his secrets with me and look what I got in return. Never-ending torment and a parasitic rider destined to annoy me forever with his incessant whining.’

“I heard that.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Of Wills and Letters, A Tiny Snag of a Thread

Tuesday 8 February, 2022; Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office

It still rankled Albus’ ego to know that he was no longer able to bounce ideas off Fawkes on how to proceed with whatever useful information came his way on how to deal with the issues of the day. ‘If I ever find out who managed to steal that blasted flaming turkey away from me, I’ll make sure that their reputation is burnt more thoroughly than the deepest pits of Hell.’ “I can’t even ask Severus for his opinion since he’s been sequestered in the infirmary until he sobers up.” Poppy seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time drawing out the man’s suffering for reasons he couldn’t ascertain. What made things worse was the morning edition of the Daily Prophet revealed that he was no longer bonded to the phoenix!

Flashback…

He and the other staff had just sat down to enjoy their communal morning meal when the mail owls arrived. At first he didn’t think anything of it, but when he heard the gasp of shock and Minerva’s muttering in that thick Scottish brogue she usually slipped into whenever she was properly riled; he looked over at her to see her face rapidly turning red. “Minerva? Is there something wrong?”

She shot him with a McGonagall Level 2 Glare (Albus’ insides suddenly felt like they’d been liquefied), "I'd nearly forgotten that Fawkes had broken his bond with you. Just how far have you fallen to lose the connection to a phoenix of all creatures?!”

Albus frowned and pursed his lips, “I wasn’t…”

She interrupted him with a raised hand, “No, I don’t want to know. If a phoenix cannot trust you anymore, then anything you have to say from this point forward is grounds for suspicion. You’re lucky we’re not in your office, or I’d really give you a piece of my mind. I don’t think I can sit next to you anymore.” With that said; she sharply rose from her place and moved closer to where Pomona sat. The two women immediately put their heads together to whisper about this new development. On his other side, a shimmering effect rose up between him and Filius.

“It’s just a precaution, Albus so don’t try to do anything you’ll later regret, and if I catch you trying to pull your wand; you won’t like the consequences.”

Present…

His gaze settled on the missive Lucius had sent that morning outlining what the man had discovered from speaking to his ‘colleagues’ regarding the pulsating Dark Mark.

'We’re not sure what it means as the Dark Lord never confided with us just how His Mark worked. My wife is of the opinion that it’s a bastardization of the Protean Charm, but without our Lord’s journals we have no way of ascertaining the truth of this theory. It was also rumored that our Lord used His Mark as a way to connect us to multiple items he created to ensure his immortality but again, we’re not certain of this validity. One thing we are all certain of is that for nearly twenty minutes, the Dark Mark had completely vanished from our left arms before returning to its current flashing state. The rhythmic pulse feels almost like it’s sending out a search beacon trying to connect with others like it.’

Albus turned to stare out of the window as he pondered the implications. “If only that Potter brat was still here in the castle, I would’ve been able to test these theories on the Horcrux within his scar.” While he told anyone who dared to question him about the nature of the lightning bolt scar that he was uncertain about why it refused to heal, Albus knew straight away what lay behind it. How could he not when his former lover had experimented with the concept during his tenure at Durmstrang? He plucked a lemon drop out of the dish and popped it into his mouth, letting the tart treat slowly melt in his mouth. A few minutes passed before a sly smirk ghosted across his face. “If I cannot go to the residence of Harry Potter, I’ll just have to contact him at that miserable excuse of a school he now attends.”

Grinning to himself, he reached for his quill and parchment.

Same time, up in Gryffindor Tower…

Neville stood at the base of the stairs that led up to the boys’ dormitories with a puzzled expression on his face. He started when the sounds of Fred and George’s voices ping-ponged behind him. “What could possibly be so important…”

“…on young Lord Longbottom’s mind…”

“…that he insists on blocking the stairs?” They finished in stereo.

Neville pointed to where Ron sat on the central couch in front of the fireplace. “Are you seeing this or is that a figment of my morning-impaired imagination?”

George peered around Neville and followed his finger to where Ron sat…reading. His mouth dropped open in surprise, “He’s reading, and not one of his usual Quidditch magazines.”

Fred led the way over and plopped down next to his youngest brother. “Good reading there, Ronnikins? Need any help with the big words?”

Ron dragged his attention away from the page he was working on, “Huh? Oh, hi.”

Neville sat on his other side and stared curiously at the redhead, “Who are you and what have you done with Ron ‘Learning is Boring’ Weasley?”

Ron’s ear tips pinked, “Leave off, Longbottom.”

George patted his youngest brother on the knee consolingly, “Do you need to take a trip to see Madam Pomfrey for that obvious head injury? The Ron we know would never debase himself with an actual textbook unless it involved chess somehow.”

Ron rolled his eyes and clutched the book to his chest protectively, “Can’t you guys leave off already? I finally found something that explains what we’re learning in a way that I can understand it.”

Fred peered at the title of the book and frowned, “Elementary Transfiguration? That’s NEWT level stuff, Ron.” He turned when Neville snorted. “What?”

Neville’s snort turned into a bit of a cough of a laugh, “It’s not that type of elementary transfiguration! This is the book that Harry and the other students at Whitehall are learning from. It’s just first year transfiguration. I must’ve left it down here last night.”

Ron glanced down at the page he was on. “Yeah, and I’m finally starting to understand what it is that we’re supposed to cast when transfiguring animals into clothes though they use a different method. I like the way the pictures move slowly so I can copy what they’re doing. They also speak clearly enough so I can do the same thing. (He pointed to a pair of mittens on the table) I did that this morning. I called an elf to bring me a pair of hamsters and tried the spell as it was described here and well…it worked.”

Neville greened at the sight of the two mittens, “You…could’ve gotten into a lot of trouble for doing that, Ron. What if Professor McGonagall had caught you? You remember what she said about you practicing magic outside of her classroom?” He glanced over at one of the twins and silently asked them to undo the transfiguration. George waved his wand, reversing Ron’s spell; the pair of hamsters stood stock-still for a moment before sniffing their surroundings. Neville’s relief was evident when called for an elf to take the poor creatures back to McGonagall’s classroom.

Ron’s attention drifted back to the book, “That was one of the warnings in the beginning of the chapter, that if the teacher or whoever caught the reader of this book transfiguring live animals into clothing, they’d be hauled in front of the Aurors for animal cruelty charges but I had to take the chance to prove that I understood what I was reading since this book cleared up so many problems I’d been having.”

“So they would use dead animals instead? That makes more sense, no need to torture the poor creature,” George mused. “But what inspired you to pick up the book in the first place?”

Ron shrugged, “I saw it lying on the table here opened up to something about changing water into wine, and got curious. Next thing I know, you three are here asking me a ton of questions.”

Neville snickered, “Still trying to recreate Finnegan’s experiments?”

Ron let a half-grin form, “He was going for rum, but yeah. He actually managed to make a weak tea before he caused an explosion.”

Fred slipped the textbook out of Ron’s grip and flipped through the pages. His eyebrows started rising and continued to do so the further he delved into the material, “Some of this is beyond first year! Look, this chapter on Vanishing spells isn’t taught until fourth year.” Ron snatched the book back, glaring at his unrepentant brother. “I’m impressed, but then again I shouldn’t be. We all know that the education standards here at dear old Hoggy-Hogwarts have been falling for decades because the administration insists on pandering to the pretentious prats of Slytherin House every time their brats whine about how difficult the subject is.”

Neville agreed with him, “That’s one of the reasons why I cleared it with Professor McGonagall to use this textbook instead of the one on our book list. She and the other professors are in agreement that the current texts leave a lot to be desired.”

“Aside from Snape, you mean. I doubt he approves of anything,” George deadpanned.

“So can I borrow this for a while?” Ron asked him hesitantly. “I need all the help I can get. Mum’s already sent me a couple of letters saying that if my grades don’t come up, she’s going to send me to Aunt Muriel’s.” All three Weasleys flinched at the name.

Neville stared at Ron evaluatively for a moment, long enough to make Ron squirm. “I’ll you what; you can borrow my set until you write to Harry and request a set of your own. You will have to buy them, I won’t front you the money; but they aren’t all that expensive. I also don’t want to catch you eating or drinking anything around them.”

Ron nodded rapidly, “Agreed. How much are they?”

“They’re about seventy Galleons for the set. It comes out to be roughly ten Galleons per text, and in it you’ll get all of our core classes.” Neville explained. He narrowed his eyes when Ron started looking furtive. “What?”

“I won’t be able to afford that much. The most I’ve got is about fourteen Sickles and a couple of Knuts.” Ron frowned; admitting that he was financially poor was frustrating.

Fred snapped his fingers, “We’ll write Dad and see if he’s got any ideas.”

George agreed, “And we’ll invite him up here to see the books in question so he’ll know we’re not trying to prank him. Given how good these books are, I’d wager he’d want to get a set for the family too.”

Fred raised his finger pompously, “To the Lair of Laughs!”

Neville snickered as the pair raced back up the stairs. “Goofs.” He smirked to see Ron had returned to his reading and left him to it.

Whitehall Academy Mail Room

Albus’ letter to Harry Potter never reached the boy. In Albus’ arrogance, he either forgot or most likely didn’t know that Whitehall wasn’t a boarding school like Hogwarts was. The intake elf who received Albus’ letter first scanned it to ascertain who it was for and if necessary, would redirect it to the appropriate department. When it saw Harry’s name, the elf checked the registry and determined that it had been sent to a student. This prompted the elf to send the letter to a safety department that would check it over for malicious magic as per Whitehall’s regulations for all mail received.

The safety elf growled when he detected the portkey and compulsion charms on the parchment. He didn’t dare open it in case the portkey was triggered, but he did slip it into a special lock-box and had it delivered to the Director of the DMLE as per their standing orders for potentially harmful letters being sent to students.

DMLE, Director Bones’ office…

Amelia looked up at the sound of a tinkling bell alerting her to a delivery from an outside source. “What now?” She grumbled as she plucked the box out of the tray and scanned it. “To Harry Potter…” Her mouth turned downwards, deepening the scowl at being interrupted from her usual work as she took note of what the scan revealed, “Who the bloody Hell would send… of course, Albus.” She levitated the letter out of the box, recorded what the charms used were, deactivated said charms then began to read the letter. The content of the letter itself wasn’t all that revealing, just the usual waffle that Albus used when he blustered on about how good Hogwarts was. “And in closing…blah, blah, blah…if you ever find the need to speak with me, you can just say the word… Albus, you bastard… Well, now I can add attempted kidnapping to your growing list of charges; too bad for you to not check to see if Whitehall allows students to receive mail at school.”

She had just about dropped the deactivated letter into her growing file to be used to drag Albus’ reputation through the mud when she hit upon a wonderful idea. “Oh, that’s devious…I like it.” She got up, made a copy of the letter (minus the enchantments), and filed the original letter away then headed out of her office. She let her secretary know she would be heading down to Director Marchbanks’ office.

Department of Wizarding Education, a few minutes later…

“Gris? You busy?” Amelia caught sight of the piles on the woman's desk and grimaced, "Should I come back later?"

Griselda Marchbanks smiled wanly and spread her hands at the mountainous pile of work piled up on her desk, “No, please come in and spare me from the ever-consuming nightmare that is paperwork.”

Amelia laughed in commiseration, “Your desk looks like mine; I’d trade you except that the reports I get would most likely resemble the essays you’re grading.”

Griselda pushed back from her desk and leant back in her chair, “So what brings you down?”

Handing over the copy of Albus’ letter, Amelia replied, “I wanted to know when the last time Albus ever had to sit through a performance evaluation. Based on this, I think he’s severely overworked and is in dire need of reflection on what’s important. The old goat has three full-time jobs, but I’m starting to suspect that he’s been neglecting all of them in favor of regaining his control over a single student.”

Griselda tossed the letter onto the desk after finishing it, “Stupid old man. I remember testing him for both his OWLs and NEWTs; he was brilliant at anything he put his mind to, but he was also extremely stubborn whenever someone dared to question him. If he didn’t like what you said, he tended to ignore the criticism.” She eyed Amelia beadily, “So why an audit and how deep do you want to go?”

“I’ve got him on a litany of potential charges, the least of which is attempted kidnapping. My problem is that he’s just got too much political capital to effectively haul his wrinkled carcass before the Mot and hope for a conviction. My suspicion of why he’s doing all this stems from the moment the muggle Queen removed all of the muggleborn and raised from the castle and his control, especially of Harry Potter; I’d wager he’s got some sort of convoluted plan in the works that would only hurt those around him. I want to use this audit as a way to force him to focus on what’s truly important; his obsession or his place in our society.”

Griselda gave her friend a weird look, “Would he do that? I can’t see him give up his obsession and go back to being an ‘ordinary’ Headmaster or statesman. And what if he decides that his obsession is more important?”

“If he does that, I would be able to arrest him and throw him into Saint Mungo’s for long-term observation regardless of whatever pull he has with the Mot.”

Griselda thought about Amelia’s idea and nodded resolutely. “If he cannot pick, we should have the authority to do it for him. There’s even legal precedence to cover us if it comes to it. If that means he loses one or more of his positions, then so be it. I know that I’m not the only one who thinks it’s time for some fresher ideas on how to educate our children.”

“I completely agree; there’s been a number of complaints over the years where one teacher or parent has wondered if they’re being prevented on introducing new concepts because ‘that’s the way it’s always been done, and if it was good enough back in my day, it ought to be good enough for my children.’”

Griselda flipped open her calendar and checked through the dates, “I’m going to assume this’ll be a surprise inspection so let’s hit him with it on the fourteenth.”

A sly grin formed on Amelia’s face as she rose to her feet, “How appropriate, he’ll just love to see us.”

“Where’re you heading now?”

“Gringotts. I want to hit him on all fronts. If we can’t get him out of Hogwarts for failing the students, maybe we might catch him embezzling funds or something.”

“Devious, I like it.” Griselda hummed approvingly before giving Amelia a farewell then sighed as she returned to her never-ending torment.

Wednesday 9 February 2022; Whitehall Academy, lunch time

“Hey, Harry!” Harry looked up as he entered the cafeteria and spotted his friend, second year Kevin Finkel waving at him. “What’s up?”

Harry shrugged as he sat in an empty chair, “Nothing much, I’m just planning for the upcoming Fashion Week this month. I’ve got a few designs that need to be tweaked. You?”

Kevin held up his most recent project, “I got the enchantments figured out and expanded the Runic Cube to include more arrays. Now instead of matching nine symbols to get an effect, you have to match up sixteen.”

“When would a cursebreaker need to work with sixteen symbols?” Their attention was momentarily diverted to the sight of Hermione strolling in wearing a hooded sweatshirt. That in itself wasn’t an issue, what was odd was seeing Ix riding in the hood portion like a portable nest.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Kevin coughed. “No idea, but that’s not my focus. I just want to see how complicated I can make it before it collapses on me. So what are you fixing with your project?”

Harry turned his sketchpad around, “My theme for this season is ‘eco-friendly school fashion.’ I want to show that using the current fast fashion practices is harming our planet in ways we can barely conceive of yet. Did you know thousands of tons of fabrics are being dumped into landfills without thinking of how they could be recycled to create other things?”

One of Kevin’s eyebrows rose up in question, “Really?”

“Uh-huh. Fast fashion poses significant problems including excessive water consumption, severe pollution from toxic dyes, exploitation of workers with low wages and poor working conditions, overconsumption of clothing due to rapid trend cycles, and large amounts of textile waste ending up in landfills, often linked to child labor practices in developing countries. I want to show that recycling is the way to go for the industry. I figure that if a child can figure this out and show ways of improving the system, the old fuddy-duddies can get off their duffs and follow along.”

“Bold. Need any help?”

Harry cocked his head, “Well, yeah I think so, but how can we do it without revealing the existence of magic?”

Kevin’s slowly spreading grin worried Harry, “Well, anything we create could be explained as simply repurposing an old machine or technique. If anyone decides to examine the machines or whatever and happen to come across something that looks like a conglomerate of odd shapes and squiggles, we can say that it was some sort of trade secret doo-hickey that the original manufacturer put it and how it’s such a shame that they’re no longer in business to ask questions.”

Harry laughed, “Do you have an array that would persuade them to not look too closely at how the doo-hickey is doing what it’s doing?”

“Sure, that’s easy. I’ve got something I use on my motorbike to keep my neighbors from complaining about the noise. What sort of machine were you thinking of creating?”

Harry thought for a moment, “I was thinking about some sort of machine that disassembles fabric down to the thread level and rewinds it back onto spools to be sold back to the factory to be used again?”

“I like that. I’m guessing you’d need some sort of sorting process to keep silk from cotton, and polyesters from everything else. When did you need this by?”

“Well, London’s Fashion Week starts on the eighteenth of this month. I know magic can do quite a bit, but if it doesn’t happen now; I’m willing to wait until September. Either way, I’ve got some outfits that need some work.”

“You mentioned that. What’s wrong with your current designs?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to use as much of the discarded fabric but without looking like they’re patchwork.”

“Ah, so like colors and prints sort of thing?”

“Yeah, the problem is finding what I need. I’ve got piles of discarded clothes and not enough time to sort it into what I need. I suppose I could use magic or enlist the aid of an elf, but I don’t know how to power the spells strong enough so they last until the end of the show and Sunny, my seamstress elf is already overloaded with work despite her assurances that she’s fine.”

Kevin dug into his bag and pulled out his journal, “I think I may have something. Do you have an embroidery machine?”

“Yes. It’s got a decent sized bed on it too.”

“Is it programmable?”

Again, Harry nodded, “I can even scan in an outside image and import it into the editing software. Why?”

Kevin slid over the journal which had been opened up to a specific page, “Because I have the answer which has eluded you. You can sew in this illusion enchantment then hide it using another pattern and different threads. The only thing you need to do to prepare the enchantments is to use a special type of thread. These illusions will allow you to use the mismatched fabric for the duration of the show then when it’s all over, you can then switch back to normal by snipping off the threads and work at solving the sorting problem at your leisure.”

Harry stared slack-jawed at his friend, “That…might work. It’s like a temporary patch for a quick fix. Neat. Where would I get that thread?

“Limey Rick’s House of Magical Fabrics and Things on This Street. It’s just off Diagon Alley; you know where the cauldron shop is? (Harry nodded) Take a left at the shop, there’s a narrow side alley that looks like where they would store their garbage bins at. There’s an ordinary muggle wood slat gate at the far end. It opens up into a larger alley once you get past the warehouse. All the shops back there are owned and operated by muggleborns. It’s not heavily trafficked by the ‘usual crowd’ which makes it seem run-down but they’re not. One of the shopkeepers told me that the lackluster atmosphere was artificially induced to keep out the purebloods.”

“Thanks, Kevin.”

Laughing, Kevin clapped Harry on his arm, “That’s why you pay me the big bucks, Potter.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at him, “I’m not paying you for this.”

Still laughing, Kevin teased him, “We’ll discuss it later, I’m only asking for the moon. You can keep the stars.”

Friday 11 February 2022; Hogwarts, Gryffindor Tower

Ron stared pensively at his parents from where he sat at the table. Fred and George had indeed written their father and requested that he come up to the school to ‘discuss important matters pertaining to their continued education.’ That alone was enough to urge both of their parents to show up post haste. Ron had started the conversation off by showing his dad some of his schoolwork before and after getting a chance to learn from the Whitehall textbooks. “We need those books, Dad. Without them, Mum’s going to send me to Aunt Muriel’s.”

Molly huffed, “I only said that to motivate you. You just aren’t applying yourself hard enough in your studies.”

Arthur observed his sons carefully before speaking. “This is an expensive set of books, you know. What’s wrong with the ones that you’ve been using? Your older brothers didn’t seem to have a problem with them.”

Fred stopped him there; the fact that he and George weren’t doing that twinspeak thing really hammered home how serious they were. He slid over the Potions textbook from Whitehall then the one required by Snape. “Take a look at these two books. This one is for Snape; it’s dry, boring, and there’re no instructions on what to do if you make a mistake let alone if the potion you’re attempting to brew is even correct in the first place.” Then he pointed to the Whitehall text, “Now, compare that to this one. It has wizarding photos in color clearly showing each step and what the brew should look like at that point. There’s an entire section within each chapter on what to do to correct a mistake as well as questions to answer to make sure you’ve learned from the experience.”

George added in, “Honestly, the book Snape requires looks like the sort of thing we’d put together to prank everyone. Rather pitiful if you think about it and not something we’d ever bother to do.” He added the last part hastily when he caught sight of his mother shooting him a suspicious glare from her perusal of the book for Astronomy where she’d been marveling at the gorgeous color photos of The Pillars of Creation in the Eagle Nebula.

Arthur had to restrain his growing excitement as he compared the two. A quick scan of the other books showed they were at the same quality as well. “Okay, I’m only partially convinced. Ron, you showed me some worksheets but I want you to show me that you can actually cast the spells too.”

Ron pulled his wand out and began working through the charms and transfiguration spells he’d learned. When he finished, Arthur and Molly beamed at him. Arthur commented, “I’m impressed, especially since I remember how much difficulty you were having in the beginning. Okay, I’ll stop by Flourish and Blott’s to pick up a set. (He noticed George’s shift of position) What?”

George replied, “We’re pretty sure you’d have to contact Whitehall directly as it’s unlikely that any of the bookshops within Diagon Alley carry these.”

“Okay, do you know the floo address of the school?” All three boys shook their heads no. “Then I suppose I could just go down there. Do you know where the school is located?” Again, they shook their heads negatively.

Ron perked up, “Oh, Neville said that by writing to Harry Potter care of Whitehall Academy, he might be able to tell you where to get the books.”

Arthur smiled, “Wonderful. In the meantime, what else has been going on around here?”

Saturday 12 February 2022; Whitehall Academy Oasis Sports Center (Hermione’s first swim meet)

“It’s ironic,” Hermione commented as she changed out of her uniform into her swim suit.

“What is?” One of her teammates asked as she fixed her hair under her swim cap.

“We’ve yet gotten into the water yet I feel like I’m already drenched.”

“Nerves? (Hermione’s bushy hair bobbed as she acknowledged the question.) Don’t worry, everyone feels the shakes before their first race.” Her teammate nudged her friendly-like, “Besides, you’ve got a heck of a cheering squad out there.”

That much was true; Ix, Harry, Lavender, her parents, and her other friends at Whitehall had come out to cheer her on. “I’m just…”

Their team captain showed up then and admonished them for taking too long, “Come on you lot! We’ve got a race to win!”

Hermione stood at the base of the launching platform nervously waiting for the call to get into position. She shook out her limbs and took several deep breaths. She was first up to compete for the 50 meter Butterfly. Hermione looked up and caught Ix looking back at her. “Relax, you’ll do fine. I believe in you and so do your friends.”

Bolstered at the phoenix’s sentiment, she climbed up onto the platform and got into position. The referee called out, “Racers to your marks! Set!” A starting pistol fired, as she dived off the platform into the waters.

Later…

Harry congratulated her on making it through the first part with some respectable scores. “I’ll be honest and admit that I don’t know the first thing about competitive swimming, but from what I was told, forty-five seconds isn’t all that bad, especially considering how young you are and that it’s your first race.”

Hermione pouted as she pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders to ward off the slight chill in the air, “I thought I was doing really well. I should’ve been faster than that.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her for a gentle hug, “You’ll get better. Your coach even said that your time was really good for a first-time competitor. If you ever need help, I’d be happy to assist. I have no problem looking like a total idiot in the water to make you look better.”

“Listen to your friend, Hermione. You can’t expect to be perfect right off the first time. If that was the case, I’d have to re-evaluate my connection with you.” Hermione gasped and denied being involved with anything shady. “I know that, but Harry’s words of encouragement are no less true. You are not perfect, it’s impossible to be perfect for the first time or any time really. There will always be someone who knows something that will give them that extra edge. All you can do is to continue to practice and get better at what you’re able to do.”

Hermione hung her head and let out a deep sigh, “Thank you both, and Harry I would love it if you could swim with me. (She lifted her head and gave him a gimlet eye) You just want to see me in my swim suit again, don’t you?”

Harry chuckled, “I’ve seen you in a leotard, remember?” All heads turned when the announcer came over the loudspeaker directing those taking part in the 100 meter freestyle to report to their stations. “Go out there and knock ‘em dead, Granger Danger!”

Still later…

Hermione relaxed on the seat in her parent’s car as they drove home from the meet and idly contemplated her awards and Harry’s encouragement. ‘Fourth place really isn’t all that bad. I didn’t win a medal or anything shiny (she didn’t count the silver-trimmed 4^th place ribbon she’d won), but I did leave with a better appreciation of my strengths. It also helps that I’m bonded with a phoenix who won’t let me slack off and wallow in my self-pity.’

“Nope, I won’t.” Ix replied when she appeared next to the tired girl. “We start training out all the laziness out of you when we get home! Fifty push-ups the moment the car stops moving, run a million laps around the track, move your bum girl! Hut, hut, hut!” She tilted her feathered head curiously, “Did I say that right? Your swimming coach is surprisingly creative with her motivational speeches.”

Hermione’s laughter bubbled up as she bobbled her head in agreement, “She does have a way with words. (She gently wrapped an arm around the bird’s body) Thanks, Ix. You’re a wonderful friend.”

Emma was listening in and shook her head exasperatedly, “I really wish I could hear what she’s saying.” Hermione recounted what had been said causing her mum to join in on the giggling. “In that case, you’re right, and I’m thankful to Ix for choosing our daughter as her human.”

Hermione nudged Ix and stage-whispered, “Now what do you know about boys and courtships?”

Both Ix and Emma rolled their eyes and huffed at the giggling mischievous girl.

Tuesday 15 February 2022; Dursley Residence

Following the in-depth performance evaluation of Albus Dumbledore’s tenure as Headmaster, and laying out the stone-cold facts that his time at Hogwarts was clearly in jeopardy because of his inability to remain flexible and open to new ideas on how to properly educate the students to remain relevant to the ever-changing times; Amelia found out later that the discrepancies in funding were the result not of Albus’ malfeasance, but that of a greedy Goblin clan who’d been managing the Hogwarts accounts for several generations. It annoyed her that this was one thing she couldn’t nail him on. ‘I was so sure that he was embezzling and using the money on those hideous robes or those disgusting lemon drops he favored.’  After that revelation, and subsequent ‘reassignment’ of the previous Goblin to a new manager, the most she’d been able to pin on Albus was defrauding the ghostly History of Magic professor’s salary. It was being rerouted into Albus’ accounts and while the amount rerouted was minimal at best (Binns hadn’t had a pay raise in over a hundred years) there were receipts for every transaction. (Those receipts proved that the money was going back into the maintenance of the school, paying for amongst other things Argus Filch’s salary since the school had rules against hiring Squibs.)

Still, Albus’ performance review hadn’t been a total loss…

Flashback…

“You seem to believe that our society is still operating in the last century, if not before then. Hogwarts is in danger of becoming irrelevant to the wider world if you don’t take action now.” Amelia stated as she glared at Albus who’d remained impassive during the ‘interrogation.’

Albus had waved off that accusation, “Hogwarts has been and always will be the best school in all of Europe.”

“So you see no reason to update your curriculum?”

He shrugged indifferently, “Why bother? It’s worked for decades; I see no reason to alter anything simply for the sake of progress. All of our students end up in well-paying jobs across the board according to their station in life. Sometimes, a rare few will drop out because of their inability to cope with how our society runs, but it’s not the end of the world and certainly no reason to change course.”

Griselda glanced over at Amelia who nodded her agreement. She turned back to Albus (who was giving her a creepy feeling the longer he stared into her eyes.) “Two final items then. First and foremost, if I ever sense you trying to invade my mind again, I’ll personally feed your carcass to the sharks.” She made a show of marking that down in her notes as the feeling faded. “Second, I do not feel confident that you are able to continue as you’ve been. You have three full-time jobs in our society, Albus. You cannot effectively govern all three as I see it. You will need to choose two to give up control of and pass it off to someone else.”

“I will not. I was charged to take up those positions because there were no other candidates and because I was clearly the best option.” He argued back.

“At the time that might’ve been true, but it’s been nearly fifty years and I’ve seen some promising educators and legislators who would be able to fit in just as well.” Griselda stated strongly. She cocked her head and smirked at his annoyed countenance, “You’re afraid, aren’t you? That must be it. You’re afraid that without you in power, this country will start to leave you behind and no longer seek you out for advice like the grandfatherly type you like to portray yourself as.”

Albus sat up straighter and growled, “I resent that accusation. You’re older than I am.”

“But I’m not the one on review here, am I? Nor am I the one who likes to wave my certifications about like a child showing off their finger-painting to their parents.” Griselda rebutted then continued. “You have to make a choice here, Albus. You have to give up the Headmaster role, the Chief Warlock role, or resign as Supreme Mugwump. I’m even willing to let you work with two positions if you are able to prove to me that your fitness to do the job properly.”

Albus sat back in his chair and contemplated his options, “Who would you have to replace me with?”

Griselda shook her head, “That’s not how things work right now, Albus. What’s your choice?”

Both women could see the warring emotions flitting across his face. Albus finally let out an aggrieved sigh, “Fine, I’ll give up the Supreme Mugwump position.” ‘ It’s mostly ceremonial now anyways.’

Griselda smiled thinly, “See? That wasn’t so difficult. Now, regarding the state of the school. You have a number of areas that need to be addressed. First and foremost is the condition of the school’s training brooms. They’re in terrible shape and should’ve been retired ages ago! I have here multiple requests by Rolanda Hooch, the flying instructor, for broom replacements but each and every time they were denied for an alleged lack of funds. Where has the money been going to, Albus?”

Albus’ eyes twitched as the inquisition continued.

Present…

Amelia had had a stray thought occur to her while she was at the bank to check on Harry Potter. She called him at home and requested permission from Petunia to stop by to inquire about potentially troubling information.

“Mr. Potter, in the past ten years, did anyone from Wizarding Family Services ever visit you to ensure that you’ve been properly raised, safe and secure?”

Harry slowly shook his head, turning to his aunt, “No, do you remember anyone?” Petunia also shook her head and replied that it would’ve been nice to have someone stop by to put the house back to rights whenever toddler Harry had had a tantrum.

“I remember this one time Dudley had stolen one of Harry’s toys. The boys must’ve been about three… Anyway, Harry started throwing a fit and in a burst of what I now know to be accidental magic, caused Dudley to blow up like a balloon and float up to the ceiling. It took my husband and I nearly two hours to get him down and calm Harry so his magic would reverse itself.”

Amelia grew concerned, “No one detected the usage of accidental magic and stopped by to put things back to normal?” Petunia shook her head no which caused Amelia’s jaw to set and vow to find out what happened there. “Also, did you ever receive a copy of James and Lily’s Wills?”

Petunia shook her head and looked at her curiously, “What Wills? Until we received Harry’s Letter from Hogwarts, we’ve had no contact with the magical world.”

This revelation prompted Amelia to return to the Ministry. She stopped in at the Department of Wizarding Family Services where she was greeted by the Director Mark Sherstone. “Mark, how’re you feeling today?”

Mark waggled his hand, “I’ve been better. Blasted cold that’s been going around finally caught up with me. I blame Dawlish, damned fool has been coughing on everything without bothering to cover up. What brings you by? How’s Susan doing?”

Amelia commiserated with him and smiled fondly, “I’ll have to see about giving him some ‘special duty’ time patrolling Azkaban for a couple of months. Susan’s doing great; got herself sorted into Hufflepuff which has been her dream for the longest time. Her grades have been a rock-solid EE since the get-go. Listen, I was wondering if you have any documentation of home visits for Harry James Potter.” Her keen eyes noticed that when Mark heard Harry’s name, they went glassy. “Mark?”

“There’s no time right now to go visit Harry Potter. I will deal with the matter myself when my schedule has cleared up.” He tonelessly replied.

Amelia sighed as she pulled her wand and stupefied Mark then called for a DMLE Healer. When one arrived, she pointed at the unconscious man, “I suspect he’s been hit with either an Imperious or Confundus. Take him back to Saint Mungo’s and get his head cleared out. Make sure to record all your findings and send them directly to me.” The Healer nodded their understanding before conjuring a stretcher. Amelia watched the pair disappear via portkey and shook her head, “What the Hell are you playing at, Albus?”

Once she left the DWFS office, Amelia rode the lift down to the Hall of Records and greeted one of the clerks, “Hey, Pete. I need to retrieve a file.”

Peter Hamlin thumbed in the direction of the door, “Feel free, Director. Holler if you need any help.”

Upon entering, she took a moment to orient herself since the department’s internal magic made organizing the rows of file cabinets odd and counterintuitive at times. She walked up to the correct cabinet and pulled open the drawer for the files marked under P. It took the work of mere moments to find the file and frowned when she saw the Will had been sealed under the authority of the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore. “Great, what fresh Hell am I dealing with now?”

“Amelia?” She snapped her head around to see the man in question looking at her suspiciously. “What are you doing? Those files were sealed for a reason.”

Thinking fast, she jammed her arm deeper into the file cabinet and grunted, “That file was in my way. Damn thing I’m trying to reach is jammed in here… (She grabbed a random folder) Ah, got it!” She pulled it out and gave an exasperated glare at the sticky smudge on the top side. “Gross… So how did you know I was here?”

Nonplussed, Albus gestured back to the door lintel. “Security wards to certain files are keyed to my office as Chief Warlock. All I knew was that someone was digging around in an area they shouldn’t be, not who specifically was doing the digging.” He picked up the Potter file, returned it to the drawer, and closed it. “Was there anything else?”

Amelia shook her head and hefted the file in her hands, “No, I’m good here. (One of the Ministry elves appeared, took something then popped out; the sight of which gave her an idea.) I’ll have an elf return this when I’m done. They don’t get picked up by those wards, do they? I’d imagine that if they did, the ward sensors would be practically playing a symphony.”

Albus chuckled ruefully, “It was like that in the beginning, but I deactivated that part of the ward just to get some peace and quiet. Good night, Amelia.” He smiled perfunctorily and left.

As soon as she returned to her office, she called for the department’s elf, Locky. “I’ve got a mission for you.”

Locky appeared later long after the Ministry had ostensibly closed down for the night. Amelia was still at her desk; busily working on slogging through the morass known as After-Action Reports. “I have the file as you requested, Director.”

Amelia beamed at him, “You sir, are a gem. Was it difficult to get? Did Albus get wind of your presence?”

Locky sniggered, “Thank you, Director. The retrieval was simple. I just transferred the seal to another file; wizarding magic is easy to override.”

Amelia laughed, “That’s remarkably horrifying.”

Locky’s eyes twinkled merrily, “I also made sure to swap it with one who would never think to give the Chief Warlock any trouble.

“Oh? Who’s was it?” Her voice was tinged with amusement.

He gave his boss a wide grin. “His own.”

Amelia was shocked at what she’d read within the Will. Beyond the boilerplate legal stuff, was both James and Lily’s list of bequeathment and line of succession for guardians to care for their son, Harry. “Sweet Merlin on a toadstool!” The first in line to care for Harry was the allegedly notorious Death Eater, Sirius Black. However, there was a simple line of text that threw out that supposition. ‘Sirius Orion Black III – Oath-sworn godfather.’ “That’s not possible! If he truly was Harry’s oath-sworn godfather, betraying his parents and threatening the life of his godson to You-Know-Who should’ve killed Sirius on the spot! Something’s not adding up here; what about the Dursleys? Why did Harry end up there?”

Besides Sirius, there was also Alice and Frank Longbottom (currently in long-term care in Saint Mungo’s), Andromeda and Theodore Tonks (distantly related on James’ mother side), herself (Amelia’s eyes bugged out at seeing that), and Minerva McGonagall (she chuckled to herself at wondering how well Minnie would’ve handled having a toddler underfoot.)

Down at the bottom of the list were Petunia and Vernon’s names. “As a last resort if the previous people are unable or unwilling to accept their role, we wish that Lily’s sister and her husband take in Harry to raise, and with him a monthly payment of G50,000 or the muggle equivalent for the costs of his care. While they may be muggles, they’re still family.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Based on what I’ve seen, they’re doing quite well together.” Next she read Lily’s statement and felt a finger of dread in her heart. 'A Prophecy was Spoken to Albus regarding either Harry or Neville Longbottom which necessitated our two families to go into hiding. While we do not know the contents of the Prophecy, it was Albus who suggested the use of the Fidelius charm to hide the Secret of our location. Further upon his suggestion, it was discussed that Sirius would be too likely of our choice of Secret Keeper, we decided that Peter Pettigrew should take upon that honor and instead use Sirius as a decoy. If we are betrayed, it was because of Peter not Sirius as many would be led to believe.'

Amongst the other bequeathments was the role of political proxy should either parent die and the other was unable to take upon the job. “It is our wish that Sirius Black, Frank Longbottom, or Andromeda Tonks be appointed as our Proxy. Should either be unwilling or unable, we wish that our seat be put into stasis until such time that Harry turns seventeen.”

What really cheesed her off was down at the bottom where the signatures went, one name stood out amongst the others. Signing as Witness was none other than Albus Bloody Dumbledore!

“Well, shit… that explains why he’s so damned obsessed with controlling Harry. He must’ve conned the Mot into appointing him guardianship and proxy. I’m still curious as to why he dumped Harry off with the Dursleys when he could’ve used one of his many sycophants like the Weasleys.” She was about to call for Locky again when the elf appeared holding another file. She gave a short laugh at his intuitiveness. “You are too observant for your own good, you know that right?”

Locky just gave her a cheeky wink before popping out again.

Saturday 19 February 2022; The Store Studios, 180 The Strand (London Fashion Week)

Emma Granger could tell that Harry was in his element despite how chaotic the backstage activities seemed to her. She spotted the pre-teen boy flitting about the room clearly enjoying himself as he selected outfits for the models to wear, fixing or altering things on the spot, or just directing traffic. She along with Hermione, Lavender, and surprisingly a couple of the girls from Hogwarts had been offered the role of being his models for his Spring 2022 Eco-Friendly Schoolgirl Collection. Petunia spotted her rather overwhelmed expression and walked over to see what, if anything, the other woman needed. “How’re you holding up?”

Emma shook her head in amazement, “Is it normally this crazy?”

Petunia coughed a laugh, “Yes, and yet Harry wouldn’t have it any other way. According to him, if everything is running smoothly, something or someone is clearly doing it wrong.”

“You seem to be handling the chaos well.”

Petunia waved her hand dismissively, “This isn’t the first fashion show of this scale I’ve been to. Last year, I even got to walk the runway as one of Harry’s models and that was nerve-wracking in its own right, let me tell you. I thought I was going to trip and make a scene the entire time, but I managed to get through it just fine.”

A squeal of girlish excitement sprang up from where Hermione and the others had sequestered themselves. “I’m glad that they’re all getting along. I had worried that the girls from Hogwarts would stand out like a sore thumb.”

Petunia waggled her hand, “They do and they don’t, but it doesn’t matter because of how much is going on. As long as they don’t perform any magic, no one will know or likely care that they’re acting a little different.”

Over with ‘Harry’s Girls’…

Millicent stared wide-eyed at everything; the dresses, the models, it was all so much for her to take in. “I still can’t believe that Harry asked me to model for him. Not once have I ever considered myself model-worthy.”

Tracey Davis agreed with her, “Me too. I thought the most exciting thing that would happen to me is finding a job in Diagon Alley after graduating from school and moving into my own place.”

Daphne huffed, “If that’s your idea of exciting, I need to take you on a couple of Greengrass family vacations. There’s more to this world than just Britain.”

Harry appeared just then, a tape measure slung over his shoulders, and a sewing kit brace strapped to his arm, “Ladies, if you’re ready? I have the outfits ready for you.”

Millicent’s POV…

She could only stare at her reflection in the mirror in her changing booth. ‘Mum and dad are never going to believe this. I look gorgeous…’ Normally, anything that she bought from the magical clothiers tended to be sewn at the shoulders and allowed to hang straight down with no attempts at styling or fitting giving her the appearance of wearing a primitive sack. To be honest, it tended to perpetuate the perception that she was fat. ‘I might have a few extra pounds that I could stand to lose, but honestly I’m not that big.’ This dress on the other hand, was a marvel in construction. After she’d gotten done with the school outfit (again, she looked really nice in comparison with the robes that Hogwarts made them wear); she was directed to quickly change into the outfit she would be wearing for Harry’s new Spring Equinox Collection. The dress was a star-studded wonder, twinkling with a galaxy of sequins. The back of the dress featured a charming, oversized velvet bow, adding a touch of whimsy and grace to the shimmering ensemble. With a full, twirl-worthy skirt and cozy long sleeves with puffed shoulders, it was a dress designed for the most festive of occasions, ensuring that anyone who wore this felt like the belle of the ball. She slipped her feet into the shiny silver flat shoes and snapped the buckles in place. “I love that it has a belt that proves I have a waistline. Even better, it’s in Slytherin green.”

“Millie? How’re you doing in there?” Petunia called out to her. Millie poked her head out and felt her jaw drop open when she spotted the outfit that Lavender Brown was wearing.

“Wow, Lavender; you look stunning!”

Lavender beamed and waggled a finger in her direction, “You’re looking pretty awesome as well, Lady Bulstrode.”

Millie swirled out of the changing booth as the two girls shared a moment of excited giggling as their dresses sparkled in the light.

Hours later…

Harry slumped in a chair, utterly exhausted from the runway show’s excitement. He rolled his head back when he heard someone approach and smiled tiredly at Hermione. “Have fun?”

Hermione was practically fizzing with energy as she bounced excitedly on her toes, “Ohmygodthatwasamazing!”

He smiled sleepily. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Did you remember to give the outfits back to Aunt Petunia? I had to cheat a bit and used magic on the outfits.”

The bouncing stopped as her brow furrowed, “You did? Won’t that get you into trouble?”

He shook his head, “If I sold them to outside people, yes. Eventually the magic will end and it’ll go back to looking like something that only Dumbledore would love. They’re sewn together with enchanted thread to give the illusion that they’re matched fabric when in reality it’s whatever I was able to grab. I’ll take these back to Sunny and let her disassemble them then I’ll get around to figuring out how to properly sort the piles of discarded fabric from that lot I bought a couple of months back.” He lazily waved his hand, “Besides, the pattern’s already been finalized and is ready to be shipped to the factory.”

The other girls appeared next. Daphne leveled her finger imperiously at him, “You sir, are a genius and if you’re not careful, we girls will stage a kidnapping and drag you back to Hogwarts where you will be kept under guard and forced to make clothes to keep us happy.”

Harry’s eyes went cross-eyed a bit before what she said permeated his tired brain, causing him to burst out laughing, “Just don’t tell Dumbledore that. That old idiot would probably try to make it happen.”

Friday 4 March, 2022; Hogwarts Great Hall

Draco sat at the Slytherin table utterly bored out of his mind. Ever since the muggleborns had been withdrawn from the school, he could no longer indulge his favorite pastime of making those of a lesser class feel bad about themselves. True, he still had the Weasel aka Ron, to rile up but even that was starting to lose its allure. “I need a distraction.” He yelped and jumped out of his seat when his bum was struck with a Stinging hex. He glared at a still-laughing Greg, “Why did you do that?!”

Greg shrugged, “You said you needed a distraction. I gave you one.” The others in their year group snickered at the blond’s predicament. “Seriously though, what’s going on?”

Rubbing his sore bum, he gingerly retook his seat before lazily gesturing around the hall, Draco replied, “Ever since the lower classes left, there’s been no one to lord my exalted status over. I can’t do it with any of you because you don’t care, and the other Houses just stopped reacting for some reason. I can’t even hassle the Weasel anymore!” Said Weasel was currently reading a book to his surprise while casually waving his wand at some random objects on the table and transfiguring them into something else to the applause of his tablemates.

Vince spotted what Ron was doing and perked up, “I heard he discovered those textbooks that Longbottom teased the Ravenclaws with a while back. According to them, the stuff in there is miles above what our books teach.” The others were surprised to hear this; Ron Weasley’s status as the worst student in the entire school had reached legendary levels. He was even worse than Vince and Greg who at least admitted they needed all the help they could get.

Theo Nott sniffed haughtily, “Based on what we’ve seen today alone makes me question his status as the worst ranked student in the school. That salt shaker to miniature bear figurine looks like it was done nearly textbook.”

Blaise Zabini laughed, “Nice pun, Nott.” Theo thought about what he’d said before pinking and shoving Blaise on the arm while the others joined in on the laughter.

Draco pouted for a moment before he brightened; a slow devious grin forming on his face. “Didn’t someone say that Whitehall is a day-only school?”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed cautiously, “What are you planning?”

Smiling mysteriously, Draco said, “I was thinking of pulling a prank on them. What if we were to bombard that school with Howlers?”

“For what purpose and what would those Howlers say?”

He shrugged unconcernedly, “I don’t know, insults at their school and how Hogwarts is just so much better? It’s not like they know how to retaliate anyways.”

The girls who’d participated in Harry’s fashion show shared a glance with each other. Tracey whispered to Daphne and Millie, “I say we let the idiot experience the storm that he’s about to unleash upon us on his own. He clearly has no idea just how capable they are.”

The following Monday…

The skylight over the Great Hall normally showed what the weather was like. It was fairly accurate, but that morning, it was acting strangely. The castle inhabitants knew from experience that Scottish weather was temperamental, but the darkening skies didn’t give off the familiar feeling of impending rain or snow. This was something different…worrying, if they had to ascribe a description.

A solitary owl fluttered in and landed on the Teacher’s table, a letter tied to its leg. Albus frowned at the sight of red envelope. ‘Who would be sending me a Howler here? The wards should’ve redirected it to my office.’ The moment he touched it, it unfurled and began speaking loudly in a woman’s voice, “To the residents of Hogwarts. Thank you for sending that Howler to our fair school though its timing could’ve been a bit better. The custodial staff were most upset when the letter finished spewing its hateful message then exploded, setting fire to a rubbish bin. So, since the gauntlet has been thrown down, this morning’s entertainment was inspired by the alleged prank that your own Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House sent to our school under the delusion that we muggleborns are incapable of repaying the favor in kind. This Howler will be playing an accompanying piece of classical music to help set the tone. Pilot to bombardier, prepare for attack run! Sincerely, Headmistress Olivia Marchbanks of Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The first sign that Draco realized he had made a critical error was when that Howler began speaking and named him as the culprit. That feeling intensified when it began playing the awe-inspiring intro music to Richard Wagner’s song ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ as the approaching storm outside revealed itself to be a veritable swarm of hundreds of owls diving through the hidden chutes in the roof, screeching in unison at the terrified Hogwartians before pulling up at the last second as they released their timed weapons of mass distraction. As an added effect, several Whitehall elves popped in armed with muggle clay pigeon throwers and began lobbing exploding bulbs filled with confetti, fireworks, and sparks causing the students to scatter in terror.

The Howlers followed their flight’s trajectory and hit the tables where they began spewing out their messages at full volume:

“Wizards! Is your wand a bit…limp? Has it been exposed to chilling temperatures, even though it’s summertime? No fear, The Maestro’s here! Play some of my music in front of your witch and watch her melt into your…well, let’s say limpness won’t be your problem!”

“If no one else can help…and if you can find them…maybe you can hire… the ELF Team!”

“Old Spice – The Man your Man could smell like!”

“Rusty’s Shaving Blades – Hey, don’t blame us if you don’t know how to shave!”

“If you haven’t bought a Firebolt last Tuesday, contact us immediately! Someone may have duplicated your key. Call Fraudsters’R’us to protect your accounts. (We make no guarantee that the Goblins will accept the results.)”

“Hello! We’ve been trying to contact you about your broom’s extended warranty. If you want to extend the life of that treasured family broom, floo ‘Shyster’s Simple Securities’ today!”

“Wondering why you don’t get that second date? Can’t get that hot witch to look at you? Go to Tailored Twits Distinguished Fashions for the discerning wizard. Show your witch you deserve her!”

“Centaur Male Growth Potions – It takes two hands to hold a Whopper!”

“Pamper’s Escort Service – Pamper’s: For the Best Bottoms in Town!”

 “Feeling like your brain is overloaded and could do with a bit of spring cleaning? If you do, call for Gilderoy Lockhart to learn about his special soon-to-be-patented mind clearing technique to make each day bright and exciting!”

“Did your Galleons go too quickly? Feeling your Knuts fall away? Sick of being without any Sickles to rub together? Then stop by Cash’N’Go loan services. If you’ve got a job, we got the gold you need! (A rapid buzz of disclaimers, limitations, and implied threats sped past like a hyperactive squirrel on energy drinks.)

On and on the Howlers broadcasted their messages, sometimes overlapping just to add to the chaos. When the final message rang out, “Kentucky Fried Rat – Finger lickin’ good;” silence fell upon the bewildered and overloaded crowd. Students and staff alike poked their heads above the tables under which they’d taken shelter and glanced about at the devastation that had been wrought from the aerial bombardment. Minerva rose shakily to her feet and glared in the direction of the Slytherin table, “Mr. Malfoy! This is all on you, seventy-five points from Slytherin and I’m ordering you to clean up this mess without magic! Never in all my years…not even the Weasley Twins have attempted to wreck so much havoc upon the school! Before you whine about your father hearing about this, you can rest assured that I will indeed making sure he hears of this loud and clear!” She let out a disgruntled huff and stormed out of the hall. Pomona and Filius hurried down to check on their Badgers and Ravens, respectively. Severus merely sat there shaking his head reprovingly at a rapidly paling Draco.

Albus blinked dazedly and spit out a feather, “Well, that was…unique.”

Meanwhile over at the Gryffindor table, the aforementioned Twins stood up applauding and cheering Draco, “That was inspired, Draco! Encore! Encore!”

Draco flinched from the glares of the other students and staff as he slumped down on the floor and muttered morosely, "It was just a joke…”

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: A Sirius Stain in the Fabric

Monday 7 March, 2022; Malfoy Manor, after The Great Howler Bombardment

Narcissa did not admit to anyone that she was highly entertained. Other than the slight uptick of her lips, you’d never think so either. Gruella Parkinson, Esmeralda Greengrass, and Marie Davis had no such compunctions as they were giggling like schoolgirls as they watched the spy portrait with her. The portrait showed a view of Lucius in his richly-appointed office, and it was a good thing that there was an automatic Silencio on Narcissa's parlor. The sound of the other women’s laughter would’ve interrupted the verbal firestorm coming from the spy portrait which was a lot louder than any Floo call normally was.

The general consensus was that the ‘Lioness of Gryffindor’ Minerva McGonagall had applied a Sonorus to herself before making the floo call and used the non-magical actor's trick of projecting her voice.

"Your son has caused damage to another school, while at the same time lowering the perception of Hogwarts - and by extension - those who attend it! For that matter, the alumni like yourself! The whole of us are seen as nothing but buffoons, and whose fault is that?!”

"The answer to your son's wanton act of delinquency has caused a great deal of mess to the Great Hall and I've put your son to work cleaning it without the use of any magic whatsoever. I'm very seriously thinking of putting you in detention to help him! And don't think I can't do it!"

The eyes of the ladies watching the spy portrait widened in mirth, none more than Narcissa. She looked around and the first pair of eyes belonged to Esmeralda whose face was turning red from laughing so much. "I'd pay to see that, Narcissa. I really would!"

Whatever Lucius thought about this couldn't be determined as he sat pressed back into his office chair, with the thunderous voice of a furious McGonagall rolling over him. From the expression on his face, it seemed that he wasn't sure he could've gotten a word in edgewise as she excoriated him for the example he set for his son's actions.

"Narcissa, are you actually writing some of this down?" Marie Davis gasped between giggles.

"Well, why not? How often have you seen Minerva McGonagall this mad?" Narcissa grinned maliciously at what her ‘dear husband’ was experiencing as she furiously scribbled Minerva’s diatribe down as fast as she could.

"Well... okay, you have a good point. Hand me some of that parchment. And more of that wine. This is hilarious!"

Whatever Lucius thought about it, it was clear that this was the first time he'd actually experienced a Highland witch's rolling fury directly. It went on for the next forty-five minutes, and the only reason McGonagall stopped - and she explicitly mentioned this - was that she had another class to teach coming up.

The ladies watched from their spy portrait as the fire snapped off with a muffled floomph and Lucius sat in his chair unmoving, with wide eyes, for the next fifteen minutes... shaking.

The ladies sat there silent as well, waiting to see what Lucius’ response would be. Narcissa was quietly disappointed that her husband’s clothes were stain-free. “That ladies, is why it’s never a good idea to rile up a Scottish woman.” She shot a wry glance at the others, “I had hoped that by getting sorted into Slytherin, he would’ve shown some of the cunning that Lucius and I shared. However, I fear that that level of intelligence might’ve skipped a generation. If Minerva wasn’t already steamed, I would’ve suggested Draco get a re-sort into Gryffindor to be amongst the other knuckle-headed idiots. I have no desire to have that ire aimed in my direction.”

Tuesday 8 March, 2022; Diagon Alley, late morning

‘If Diagon Alley had been set in one of those muggle Western locales, I’d almost expect to see tumbleweeds rolling by and a gust of dusty wind trailing after it.’ Garrick mused from his office window as he gazed out onto the desolate cobblestone street of Diagon Alley. Nearly forty percent of the shops had closed due to lack of business. “Aberforth called it.”

Madam Irina Malkins glanced up from her perusal of the pages within the Potter Threads Spring 2022 catalog, “You mean the utter lack of business out there? Aye, he did and it serves them all right in my book. Even Abrigand Twilfitt has had to scale back his operation and let go three assistants and he was one of the loudest who proclaimed to everyone that he would never bow to the pressures of financial instability or some such rot. I tuned him out eventually.”

Garrick turned away from the window to face her, “And what about you, my dear?”

Irina smiled thinly, “It was tough at first; I thought I’d be following the others in shuttering my shop but thanks to Abe’s suggestion, I opened up the side that faced the muggle street. Then I put up a divider to keep the two sides separate, and started selling non-magical clothing.” Her face fell into a frown, “Your business can’t be doing all that well. You’re only able to sell to magical people.”

Garrick dipped his chin a bit, “I have no fear that I’ll remain solvent. I’m still fairly popular amongst the other wand makers, plus I routinely travel across the world to hold trade talks about wand lore and crafting techniques.”

Irina caught sight of a patron disappearing down Knockturn Alley and let out a harrumph, “I just wish Knockturn was experiencing the same economic hardships and just go away.”

Garrick smiled amusedly, “I wouldn’t go that far. Some of the shops aren’t as dark or illegal as you fear. They serve a purpose to those who can’t afford the rent or patronage of the main alley. Even the muggleborn-controlled street is doing brisk business.”

Irina’s head popped up, “They have their own street? Where?”

Garrick waggled his finger reprovingly, “I shall not reveal their location. They take a dim view as to what they see as a ‘pureblood invasion’ of their livelihoods. I only happened upon them by chance after overhearing a couple of youngsters talking about some newfangled device called a ‘drone.’ I can’t say that I understand what was so exciting about something that would create an annoying sound like that, but I followed as closely as I could without eliciting undue attention. Their toy shop…well, I can understand why the children always have that look of awe when they first step foot into the Alley.”

Irina snorted as she put down the catalog, “Now you’ve got me really curious about what could be inside.”

Garrick smirked mysteriously, “It’s a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of Wonders.” He reached behind him and extracted a rather thick catalog from a place called ‘Hamley’s.’ “The shop here is merely their magical outlet location; the patrons still have access through a portal of some kind I’m not familiar with that takes them to the main center.”

Irina’s eyes widened teasingly as she flipped through the glossy, brightly colored pages, “You don’t recognize something magical? Floo the papers; Garrick Ollivander admits to being unaware in the advancements of magical transportation! (Her snickering continued until her eyes fell upon the contents of the toy catalog) Wow, some of this stuff beggars belief. It’s no wonder why the muggleborns consider our stuff to be quaint.” She held up a picture of an advertisement for a multi-form robot that could operate in the air, water, and land.

Garrick waved her off amusedly, “Silly girl. I recognize it as a possible variant of the portal that is used at King’s Cross, I’m just not certain of it.” He acknowledged her comment about the toys with a simple harrumph.

“Still, it makes me wonder how they got a hold of the ability.”

Shrugging unconcernedly, he replied, “It could well be a case of parallel development. It happens occasionally; I remember when Gregorovitch and I both came up with identical means to drill a curved hole into a shaft of ironwood. We hadn’t met before and neither one of us had published any papers on the method yet.”

They both looked up at the tinkling sound of the bell at his front door. Garrick sighed as he levered himself out of his chair to go greet his customer. “A Sickle says that they’re here only to buy some polish.”

Same time, Whitehall Academy, History of Magic class

Harry and the others were learning about 19^th century British magical history, specifically the wizarding world’s involvement with the Irish potato famine in 1845. “In 1845, a magical strain of Phytophthora infestans escaped from an illegal laboratory owned and operated by the Blissell Family, a cadet line of the Malfoy Family. Their leading herbologist had been studying a muggle strain of the spores which mutated into Phytophthora infestans magicae due to contamination by the magical saturation of the soil and instruments. The Head of the Blissell Family attempted to cover up the break out by blaming it on competition from another rival, but were ultimately viewed with suspicion as the outbreak was located close to their lands. By the end of the 1850s, due to the public outcry for retribution, the Blissells were disbanded and reabsorbed into the main Malfoy Family.”

Hermione nudged Harry and whispered, “Malfoys, why is it always the Malfoys?”

Harry smirked, “At least Draco’s learned to keep his head down and not antagonize us ‘poor lesser classes’ anymore.”

She shot him a mildly haughty look, “For now; I wouldn’t put it past him to do something stupid again.”

Lunchtime…

Harry and Kevin had sequestered themselves away from the rest of the crowd at a table located near the back of the cafeteria, if only to prevent anyone from accidentally bumping into them and scattering the beads the two boys were working with. Kevin peered closely at one golden bead, “I never thought to incorporate my runic arrays into something like this.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully as he checked over his progress. “I know, right? The 3D printer I have is a game-changer. How’s it coming on your end?”

“Meh, I’ll never be good at sewing. I’m glad that the array doesn’t care what the stitches look like.”

“Hey Harry!” Both looked up at the appearance of Hermione who was peering over their shoulders curiously. “Whatcha working on?”

“Security idea Kevin had for a garment design. Where’s Ix?” Harry replied.

Hermione pointed off to where Hannah, Sophie, and a couple other girls were congregated, “She’s giving a lecture on her perspective of world events during the time of Merlin.”

Kevin whistled appreciatively, “So why aren’t you over there?”

“Because I’ve already heard it; Ix likes to talk about the past. She says that if the school was ever open to the idea of opening a position for an avian guest lecturer, she’d be happy to apply.”

Kevin snorted in light laughter, “Can you imagine calling her Professor Ix?”

Hermione’s eyes twinkled, “What makes you think I haven’t?” She leaned her body up against Harry’s and tickled the back of his hair causing him to squirm, “Is that ready for testing?”

Harry managed to squirm his way out of her teasing and held up the shirt. “Yup, you want to try it on?” The shirt was snatched out of his hands by his eager friend as she pulled it over her head. “So, here’s the thing. You know how girls tend to get weirded out by guys staring at their chests?” She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Right, so the serpent embroidery I stitched in has an enchantment built into the beads using 3D printing technology to discourage people whose gaze lingers over five seconds on their assets.”

“What sort of discouragement? Why a serpent?”

“Because it was the easiest design we could think of that didn’t rely on too many angles or sharp corners like our other options. There’s a sliding scale we built into this control bead set into the serpent’s eye that allows the wearer of the shirt set the level of ‘punishment’ from a simple uncomfortable feeling of being watched by a bigger bully, all the way up to uncontrollable bowel movements,” Kevin answered as he pointed out the responsible bead. “On top of that, there’s a safety feature for the wearer as well. When triggered, it gives the wearer a sense that they should make a beeline for the nearest bathroom, shopkeeper, or an Auror if one is present.”

Hermione’s jaw was swinging open, “That’s…that’s incredible!” Sure enough, her mind had started buzzing with the subtle need to find a teacher. She turned to see Harry staring at her chest; sweat was starting to bead on his forehead. “Harry?”

He let out a gasp and sighed as he turned away, “I had to make sure it was working. Excuse me…” He bolted for the nearest bathroom, leaving behind his laughing friends.

Thursday 10 March, 2022; DMLE Detention Center, secure wing

Amelia entered the area set aside for the violent prisoners after handing over her wand to the officer in charge. “Has he displayed any sort of recognition of being moved?”

The jailer grunted, “He’s not shown any signs of recognition period. I think he’s past saving, to be honest.”

She made her way to the cell set near the back and peered at the dirty lump of a man lying unresponsive on the bed. “Sirius? Can you hear me?”

No reaction. Frowning, she checked her file for something she could use. Shaking her head at the strange name, she bellowed out, “Padfoot! Get up, we have a Charms test in twenty minutes!”

That got a reaction, just not the one she was expecting. Sirius rolled over, flipped her off, and returned to facing the wall. His voice was a hoarse croak, “I remember graduating, Bones. The Dementors haven’t taken that away from me yet.”

She chuckled to herself, “I had to make sure you were still in there. I have to be serious with you now.”

“That’s impossible. I’m the only one who could be Sirius.”

Scoffing, she shot back, “Seriously, Sirius? Who said you have to be Sirius all the time? Can’t you lighten up and not be so serious?”

Sirius rolled back over to face her, his eyes showing slight signs of life for the first time as his mass of facial hair lifted slightly, indicating he was smirking. “Nice play on my name. I approve, you can stay.”

Amelia dragged over a chair and sat down, the file perched on her lap. “I’m glad you liked that. Honestly, I’m here to help you. I have some questions to ask about that night and your involvement with the Potter’s betrayal.”

Sirius’ face clouded over, “I may not have cast the spell, but I as good as caused their deaths. It’s all my fault that they’re dead.”

Amelia slowly nodded, “That’s what the report says that you said when you were captured. You kept repeating, ‘my fault’ over and over again. Would you care to elaborate?”

Sirius began to explain about how Dumbledore had been the one to cast the original Fidelius charm over the Potter cottage in Godric’s Hollow setting Sirius up as the Secret Keeper. “The problem was that I was the obvious choice. Everyone knew that James and I were as close as brothers so it was assumed that any Death Eaters would come after me so we decided to pull a switch. Albus was called again to take down his original application of the charm and reapply it with Peter as the Secret Keeper instead. I would continue to let word slip out that I was the Secret Keeper, but was in fact a decoy to keep the attention off of Peter.” He noticed the dark look on her face. “What is it? What happened?”

“It all comes back to Albus. He’s apparently been manipulating everyone in some long con for reasons I’m only starting to become aware of.”

Sirius grunted his acknowledgement, his gaze sharpened back on her, “What happened to Harry? Where’s my godson?”

Here, Amelia smiled at him, “He’s fine; Lily’s sister Petunia and her family took him in and have raised him to be a fine young man.”

“Which House did he get sorted into?”

Her expression changed, “Initially, he got into Gryffindor but then some unfortunate things happened which prompted the muggle Queen to transfer him and every other muggleborn or raised student from Hogwarts to another school.”

Sirius managed to haul himself upright as he locked onto her face, “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

An hour later…

Sirius stared off into space after Amelia concluded her findings. He came back to himself when he heard her ask, “It begs the question why you weren’t asked about the Fidelius during your trial.” He laughed scornfully, “What trial? I went from Manchester to a holding cell here then off to Azkaban where I’ve been screaming my innocence to the walls and guards who ignored me.”

Amelia’s mouth dropped open; her monocle fell from its place over her eye. “You didn’t have a trial?!”

Sirius scratched an itch under his matted hair. “Nope. Even my mad bitch of a cousin got a trial but for some reason, I was never granted that opportunity. I do remember hearing bits and pieces from the human guards that Barty must’ve had some sort of vendetta against my family seeing as how so many of us were incarcerated, but I don’t remember any specifics.”

Amelia could’ve banged her head on the bars in annoyance. “Of course he did. I don’t know the specifics either, but from the scuttlebutt; Barty Crouch did have a beef with the Black Family patriarch for some deal that went sour back when he was a child which removed them from Noble status.”

“Ouch, that must’ve hurt. Serves them right whatever it was.”

She shook her head, “Still, to deny someone who fought for the Light, your right to a trial. I’m certain it was Albus’ idea since with you out of the way; he’d be able to put Harry with whomever he wanted.” Sirius bobbed his head in agreement then groaned from the movement. Amelia noticed and called for the departmental Healer. When they arrived, she pointed to Sirius, “Get him cleaned up and treated for any obvious issues. Sirius, the mental health stuff will have to wait until I secure you a room at Saint Mungo’s and get your case heard.”

Sirius flinched as the Healer began examining him. “Isn’t Albus still Chief Warlock? Wouldn’t he be the one to oversee the case?”

“Yes, but not for something like this. I can force him to recuse himself and hand it off to someone else. If we’re lucky, we’ll get someone like Tiberius Ogden or Cyrus Greengrass.”

Sirius snorted, “As long as it’s not Lucy, I’ll take whoever steps up.”

“Lucy?”

A sly grin shifted his facial hair, “Lucius Malfoy. There’s no nickname that’ll get him to react faster than to call him ‘Lucy.’ In the meantime, tell me more about Harry. What’s he like? What’s he accomplished so far?”

Amelia chuckled at his enthusiasm, “Oh, you’re going to love this. Harry Potter is…”

Tuesday 15 March, 2022; Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office

Albus sucked on a lemon drop as he stood and stared out of the window of his office, surveying the grounds surrounding his beloved school and watching, but not really seeing, as life moved on around him. He’d practically sequestered himself following the debacle and embarrassment when the Daily Prophet reported the disappearance of Professor Quirrell. It annoyed him greatly that he’d been unable to determine which one of his staff or students had had the audacity to contact the press. If he’d had figured out which one was the culprit, he might’ve been able to convince them that for the Greater Good, news like this shouldn’t be spread around too freely. ‘It would allow our detractors the ammunition they need to force us down avenues which are not advantageous to anyone.’

Since that article had been published, he’d used this period of self-isolation (though in reality he was hiding from Minerva’s Glare of Doom) to mull over recent events and had reached a conclusion that he wasn’t particularly happy with. “Tom must’ve found out my plan to trap him with the lure of the Stone and escaped. It’s the only logical solution…” It was a contentious point between him and his Deputy about where Quirrell could’ve gone to. Minerva had demanded that he bring in the Aurors to investigate, but that was something he was loathe to do since that would increase the likelihood of them finding out about the traps on the third floor as well as some of his private experiment rooms in one of the abandoned wings of the castle. Some of his experiments could be seen as Dark if not carefully explained.

He grumbled to himself and pondered the implications of what that portended for the future. Grunting, he muttered, “Nothing good, that’s for sure.”

In the meantime, he turned away from the window to cross the room to where his filing cabinets stood and opened one of the drawers. He extracted a pre-made job description form and prepared it to be posted in the Jobs Hiring section of the paper. He sighed heavily, “Once again, I find myself in need of a Defense Professor.”

Wednesday 16 March, 2022; Ebor Gardens Primary Academy, Leeds

The two uniformed men observed the class through the open door. Inside was about thirty children of about ten years of age, and to a child, each was staring utterly enraptured with what their teacher was demonstrating. The sandy-haired teacher clearly had been through a rough patch in life as evidence by the number of scars on his arms and face. Despite the scars, he was dressed like a normal person in his profession. Basic slacks in charcoal grey, a cream-colored polo shirt, and a modest wristwatch. A striped sailor’s cardigan hung over his chair. His eyes were lively though as he demonstrated how thrust was produced using a balloon and a toy propeller. The kids oohed the moment the balloon-driven propeller launched itself into the air.

The younger of the two men stage-whispered to his supervisor; the class turned practically as one to face the intruders. The teacher gulped nervously at the sight of them. “Do we have to do this? Look at how much fun they’re having. Heck, I’m liable to take a seat next to them to learn something interesting.” A couple of nervous giggles were heard from inside.

Senior Auror Graham Wallace, disguised as a Leeds police offer let out a long, much-put upon sigh, “Yes, we do. The boss wants to see him post haste.” He thought for a moment before a sly smirk crossed his face. “I’ve got an idea to not alarm the children unduly. (He led the way in and approached the teacher) Excuse us, are you Mr. Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ eyes grew wide and stammered, “Y-yes, sir.”

Senior Auror Wallace pulled out a set of cartoon octopus-shaped handcuffs, the sight of which sent many of the students into stitches of laughter. “Under the orders of Her Majesty, I’m afraid that I have to place you under arrest for violating the school code about making learning fun and interesting. By Her Order, all lessons must be utterly boring and sleep-inducing.”

By this point even Remus was valiantly (and failing miserably) to contain his laughter as the Senior Auror was leading him out of the room to the cries of giggling dismay of the students. Remus yelled back to his class, “Avenge me! Do well in your studies and get the best grades you can!” Several boys let out yells calling for rebellion while the rest were falling about themselves in cheers and catcalls. Remus’ assistant hurried back to corral the kids back inside the classroom whilst clutching her sides from laughing so hard.

The two Aurors led Remus out to the Teacher’s lounge where the ‘shackles’ were removed. Senior Auror Wallace coughed in amusement, “Thank you for playing along, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus chuckled, “Not at all, I think the kids enjoyed that the most. (He eyed them for a moment, his shoulders tensing a bit) You’re not normally Leeds police. Aurors then? What’s this all about?”

Auror First Class Toby Peterman handed over their orders, “We’re here to take you to the DMLE to answer some questions regarding Sirius Black.”

DMLE interview rooms, twenty minutes later…

Amelia walked into the room and greeted Remus, “Thank you for taking some time out of your teaching schedule, Mr. Lupin. I realize my Aurors didn’t really give you a chance to refuse.”

Remus waved that off, “At least they were entertaining in how they managed to get me to accompany them.” He told her what had just happened, something that made her laugh.

“I’ll have to remember to give them an award. So, I did a bit of checking and you’re something of a local celebrity. How did that happen?”

Remus’ gaze sharpened as he replied flatly, “I killed Fenrir Greyback.”

Amelia’s eyes flew open as her mouth gaped, “Say that again?”

He nodded self-assuredly, “I killed the most dangerous and feared werewolf in all of the British Isles. He’d been terrorizing the area when I moved in a little over a year ago. I managed to track him down in a rural park and went armed to the teeth, as they say.”

Shaking her head, Amelia begged for more details. “Weren’t you afraid of getting bit?”

“Can’t infect what was already infected,” he calmly replied, waiting for the inevitable response. She didn’t disappoint when she yelped in surprise and scooted back in her chair. “Greyback was the one who infected me when I was five years old as a means of retribution to my father who’d made some disparaging remarks against the were community. Despite being bitten, I managed to make my way through all seven years at Hogwarts and became a prefect as well. I scored high on both my OWLs and NEWTs, as well as receiving my Masteries in Defense, Charms, and Arithmancy. I obviously had to move out into the muggle world in order to find work since the magical community can’t seem to pull their heads out of their collective arses.”

She smirked at the dig to their society as she resumed her original spot. “So does your current school know about what you are and what you did?”

He shook his head, “Not the werewolf part, but they do know that I was the one who effectively brought back the head of Greyback as proof of his elimination. I even made the papers for a time as you know. I think that’s what helped me land the teacher position to be honest. My work track record hasn’t been promising given the number of times I’ve been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’.”

She took note to take another look at his job record when something he said pinged in her mind. “Effectively? What did you do to Greyback?”

“I was only able to recover half of his face and a couple of teeth. A grenade-launcher doesn’t leave much behind.”

Amelia sat there open-mouthed for a moment as she tried to process that. “Wow, no wonder why the children seem to revere you. Your class sounds like they were having fun according to your story.”

A small smile crept across his face, “A ‘crime’ of which I’m apparently guilty of. (He shrugged good-naturedly) I like teaching children and if I can make the principles of whatever I’m demonstrating stick in their minds using something fun; who am I to argue with the results?”

Amelia agreed with him, “I’m beginning to wish you’d been teaching at Hogwarts. They need all the help they can get lately.”

Remus bowed his head, “I heard what happened back in October; I can’t say that I’m all that surprised by how far the school has fallen. Albus really screwed the pooch, if I may be blunt.”

“You sound as if you don’t like him. According to your educational records, it was only because he intervened that you were even allowed to step foot on the grounds let alone achieve that prefecture status.”

“I’ve had my doubts about why I was given permission to attend Hogwarts. I suspect he wanted to groom me into becoming his spy amongst the werewolf clans. As it was, it was about ten years ago when I had my faith in Albus Dumbledore shaken to its core when I couldn’t convince him that Sirius was innocent and couldn’t have betrayed the Potters to Voldemort. Despite my pleas, Albus kept claiming that because I had been away for so long, I couldn’t possibly know what transpired.”

Amelia subconsciously shivered at the Dark Lord’s name, “You don’t ascribe to using a pseudonym when speaking about You-Know-Who?”

Judging by the set in his face, the answer was a resounding ‘no.’

She gathered up her papers again and placed them in the folder, “Well, I’m convinced that you are as much a victim of Albus’ plots as Sirius was. Do you have any questions for me?”

Remus leant forward hopefully a bit, “Where’s Sirius? I want to see him.”

She smiled and nodded, “He’s at Saint Mungo’s in a secure ward recovering from his illegal incarceration. I’m working on getting him a trial while he undergoes rehabilitation.”

Two days later…

Sirius was relaxing in the tub located in his bathroom after yet another stressful physical therapy session when he heard the outer door open. “Come to give me another sponge bath, Nurse Benson?” He froze when he heard a voice from his past.

“I absolutely refuse to give your mangy arse a sponge bath no matter how much you beg, Padfoot.” Sirius spun about to see a widely grinning Remus ‘Moony’ Lupin standing in the doorway, a brown paper bag held in one hand.

“Moony.”

Remus looked hurt, “What? No yelps of joy? No running around all crazy-like as your other form would do after summers of not seeing me?”

Sirius’ stare turned into a glare as he answered flatly, “You abandoned me.”

Amelia stuck her head into the room, “Actually, he didn’t. Your friend here has been actively trying to get your case heard, but because of his condition, no one’s wanted to listen to him. I only found out after you and I spoke.”

Remus lifted the bag, “I brought you a present.”

Narrowed eyes suspiciously examined him, “What’s in it?”

A tiny mischievous smirk teased the corners of his mouth, “Something James threatened to get you the last time the three of us went out for a night on the town.” He pulled out a frilly collar and leash, both done up in bright pink. The collar was studded with shiny rhinestones and had a bright brass name plate on the back that read, ‘Princess Padfoot.’ The sight of it caused Sirius to bark in laughter as he climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. “I figured that if you were a good boy, you would wear it while I took you out to the garden to do your business.”

Sirius wrapped Remus up in a tight hug, “Aww, Moony! I missed you so much.” He dropped his act and started sobbing, “I spent years in that wretched place trying to get the guards to listen to me, but I was labeled a traitor and beaten every time I tried so I guess after a while…I gave up. In all honesty, if Amelia here hadn’t pulled me out when she did, I probably would’ve engineered a make-out session with a Dementor.” They followed him back into the other room where he began to get dressed. “You still have that light-up football I gave you as a Yule present?”

Remus chuckled, “It survived many a nights during my transformations, but unfortunately it didn’t make it after a boulder fell on it three years ago.”

“Shame that. No problem, I’ll get you another one once I’m freed.”

Amelia sniffled quietly at their conversation. “Mr. Lupin, if you’re feeling up to it; how about I tell you more about what your…nephew, I guess he could be called, is up to these days. I’ve only told Sirius a few things since his attention span is rather limited.”

“That’s nothing new. Padfoot’s always had trouble staying focused unless it was to pull a prank on someone or to chase his tail.”

Amelia huffed, “What’s with that nickname? Nowhere in his records is an explanation about that or why he called you Moony.”

Sirius laughed and pointed at Remus, “He’s Moony because he’s a werewolf. Moon…werewolf? Get it?”

She rolled her eyes, “Right. And Padfoot?”

Sirius took that moment to transform into his Animagus form of a large (but emaciated) wolf-like deerhound. Padfoot barked eagerly and headbutted her hand before scooting back and resuming his human shape. “Any questions?”

Her mouth seemed destined to stay swinging open, “You’re an Animagus?! When were you registered?”

Sirius scoffed, “Register something like that during a war? I would’ve rather tongue-kissed Bellatrix.” He shuddered at the thought; something that was mirrored by both Remus and Amelia.

That brought up her next question, “How long after you graduated did you achieve your first transformation?”

Remus sniggered at the mirthful look on Sirius’ face. “Try before graduating. He, James, and the rat figured out how to transform back during our fifth year.”

Amelia’s jaw dropped open again. Sirius muttered something about how appropo it was that Pettigrew was a rat. She stuttered out, “What does Pettigrew look like?”

Remus held his hands out a bit, “A common brown garden rat about this long from nose to tail. His nickname is Wormtail. James was able to become a stag. He stood at about seventeen hands tall with a decent set of antlers as we both heard him boast about many a time back then.”

Sirius draped his arm proudly across his friend’s shoulders, “We became Animagi to help out ol’ Moony here on the full moons. Lily was the only one of our little pack that wasn’t yet ready to transform even though she already knew what her form would be; something called a ‘cave lion.’ We were a pack until the rat sold us out…speaking of whom, any idea where he might be? I think a reunion is in order.”

Amelia shook her head, “No idea, though hopefully someone might know when your trial is held. Meanwhile, you just stay here and get your head on straight before I let you see your godson.”

Remus got Sirius in a playful headlock, “That means he’ll never get out of here! Padfoot’s been off his rocker for as long as I’ve known him.”

Sirius squirmed free then jump-tackled his best friend. The two wrestled a bit, establishing a moment of dominance while Amelia merely looked skyward for Divine Intervention and muttered, “You’re both nuts. I’ll be outside waiting for you two to finish whatever the Hell this is.” She stalked out of the room leaving behind a pair of unrepentantly grinning fools.

Once the two men decided to finally act their ages, Amelia led the pair into a garden observation room where she filled them into the ‘Exciting Adventures of Harry Potter.’ Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried to wrap his head around what he’d learned, “So let me get this straight; Albus arrogantly assumed that since Petunia and her husband were just muggles, they’d automatically want to mistreat Harry simply because he’s magical? He never once stopped in to see what they were like?”

“Apparently not, according to Petunia,” Amelia replied. “She did say that there was a bit of a rough patch in the first couple of weeks where both she and her husband felt animosity towards Harry, but because she had been secretly trained by Lily to practice Occulumency; she recognized the signs that they were being toyed with and investigated their yard and the contents of their house where she discovered the illegal wardstone that Albus had installed. It was destroyed by the simple act of using one of her husband’s power grinders and scouring the surface clean. It’s our guess that he wanted Harry to be alone, starved for attention, battered, and utterly clueless about his family and heritage by the time that Albus contacted him about starting up at Hogwarts whereupon Harry would look at Albus as some sort of savior from the muggle drudgery.”

Sirius was growling, “Devious bastard. My family would’ve loved Albus if they’d known.”

Remus was nodding sagely, “I’m relieved that Petunia patched up her differences with Lily. The two sisters supposedly had a falling out around the middle of her pregnancy with Harry.”

Amelia cocked her head thoughtfully, “I’m starting to wonder if that falling out was in fact staged to throw Albus off whatever their plans were following Harry’s birth. I remember what my brother and his wife mentioned about the two Evans’ sisters and how close they were. Something about it all didn’t add up when the argument happened.”

“So what’s the plan now?” Remus asked the other two.

Sirius scrubbed his face with his hands, letting them slide off before frowning. “I’m going to sue everyone responsible for my illegal stay at Hotel Azkaban.”

Amelia huffed, “You won’t get far with Bagnold. She died during the Lockerbie disaster back in December 2018.”

Sirius cocked his head curiously (much like his dog form would do to Amelia’s amusement), “What happened there?”

“A muggle airplane was flying from London to New York when it exploded over Lockerbie, Scotland. The official muggle reports say a bomb was planted in a radio-cassette recorder in a suitcase in the forward cargo hold but our investigators have revealed that the plane was a casualty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. According to the ministry reports, a team of dragon handlers from the Hebrides were moving a couple of their transient dragons to another preserve and one of them got a bit ‘feisty’.”

Remus shared an incredulous look with Sirius, “Feisty? What were they doing moving dragons during peak holiday flying hours?”

Amelia merely shrugged, “No idea. I doubt any of them even bothered to check. Anyways, Bagnold’s dead, Barty Senior was transferred to International Magical Cooperation, and we all know what Albus’ has been up to.”

Sirius muttered again before pulling himself together. “Okay, so what’s Crouch’s financial situation? Is he even worth suing?”

Amelia waggled her hand, “Ever since he imprisoned his son for being a Death Eater, Barty’s done pretty much nothing. What money he does spend is usually on food and alcohol; Tiberius Ogden has jokingly quipped sometimes that half of his company’s income comes from Barty alone. If you go after him, I doubt he’ll kick up too much of a fuss. He’s broken, Sirius; he put a lot of stock in his son’s academic accomplishments and the love of his wife. When he lost both of them, something inside of him broke.”

Sirius pursed his lips as he took in the information. “Albus, on the other hand, I want his hide nailed to the Atrium’s wall for all to see that he’s not as Light as he tries to portray.”

Amelia patted his arm consolingly, “I’ll do what I can to get justice done. You’ll need a proper lawyer though. Investigating is one thing, arguing a legal case is entirely different despite what my political opponents have stated.” She thought for a moment before brightening. “Have you ever heard of a barrister by the name of Theodore Tonks?”

Sirius coughed violently for a second before managing a wheezing laugh, “Yeah, he’s married to my cousin Andromeda. She was disowned for marrying Ted because he’s a muggleborn. They have a daughter named Nymphadora. She ought to have graduated by now, come to think about it.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to take your case?”

Sirius shrugged, “Maybe? I don’t know. I remember that Andi and I got along pretty well at all of the Black Family gatherings and I helped her find a temporary place after she was booted from the family.”

Amelia let out a sigh of relief, “Then I’ll give him a call and have him get in contact with you. In the meantime, get some rest.” She got up and gave Sirius a warm smile before leaving.

Sirius turned to Moony, “So, who’s up for a game of fetch?”

Sunday 20 March, 2022; Hogwarts Great Hall, morning

‘Royal Flush Plumbers - The only time a flush beats a full house.’ –Whump!

‘Ashirvad Constructions - you’ve used the cowboys, now try the Indians’ –Whump!

‘Bricker Drilling Services - leaving wet holes all over the northwest!’ – Whump!

The last Howler was the third to disintegrate into a flutter of flames and ash as Draco fired yet another incendio at the offensive advertisement.  Even a month after the now-infamous Hogwarts Howler Blitz, he was still getting three or four junk flyers every day. It annoyed him something fierce and if he ever figured out who was still sending them, he was tempted to put on his father’s old Death Eater mask and robes and exact some revenge.

“Having fun playing Howler Hunt, Draco?” Pansy teased him from where she and the other girls sat out of range of the exploding red letters. “What’s your score up to these days?” The others giggled at her taunt.

“Shut up, Pansy.” He growled as he clutched his wand tighter, “When I find out who keeps sending me these damned things, I’ll make them regret it!” The girls ‘gasped and squeaked’ at the threat while pretending to be scared before ignoring the fuming blond.

Up at the Teacher’s Table, Severus smirked inwardly at his godson’s predicament as he readied yet another Howler. He turned when Filius nudged him. “When will you stop punishing young Mr. Malfoy?”

Severus shrugged and tapped the red envelope with his wand (it rose up from his table, vanished from sight, reappeared above the Ravenclaw table and began its diving run to Draco who’d taken aim at the newest annoyance the moment he spotted it.) He was amused by the small amounts of laughter directed at Draco coming from the other tables every time he tried to change locations in order to escape the flying menaces. “When it’s no longer funny and he’s learned his lesson. Speaking of funny, watch this… Headmaster?”

Albus turned to him curiously, “Yes, Severus?”

Severus partially held up the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, “Did you see the article announcing the return of the muggleborn to Diagon Alley and the school?”

Albus’ eyes widened comically as he lunged over to snatch the paper out of his Potion Master’s hands and frantically scanned the articles, “Where?! Where’d you see that?” Snorts of laughter coming from his senior staff clued him into the realization that he’d been pranked. “You of all people, Severus? I thought that sort of thing was beneath you.”

Severus’ face was seemingly impassive unless you knew what to look for. The subtle wink he sent to his fuming boss caused the others to break out into stitches of laughter. He smugly replied, “Relax, Headmaster; it was just a joke.”

Over at the Gryffindor table…

Neville was clutching his sides as he laughed at Draco’s continuing punishment. He noticed that Ron wasn’t responding in kind like he normally would’ve whenever the Ponce of Slytherin had been embarrassed. “Ron? Didn’t you notice today’s entertainment?”

Ron dragged his attention away from what he was reading, “Huh?”

Neville pointed over to where Draco was brushing the ashes into a pot, “Draco got Howlered again.”

Ron bobbed his head and took a small bite of his breakfast before returning to his reading, “Yeah, funny.”

Neville shot a meaningful look over to the Twins, “You know, if I didn’t know any better; I’d swear that he’d been replaced with someone under Polyjuice.”

Fred swapped places with another firstie to plop himself down next to his youngest brother. He poked Ron in the side of his head ‘experimentally’ causing the younger redhead to ineffectually swat his brother’s hand away. “You should’ve read our father’s response about how our mum reacted after she received Percy’s latest letter home telling our parents that Ron had asked if they could expand our home ‘library’ such as it is into a better place to continue learning during the holidays.”

George joined in, “She was all set to have Ronnie dragged to Saint Mungo’s to get a full evaluation done. Fortunately our dear father talked her out of it.”

“At least his grades are no longer in the dungeons. According to Percy, Ron’s been hitting solid A’s across the board,” Fred mentioned.

“I’m only a couple of points shy of an Exceeds in Charms,” Ron spoke up startling them, proving that he’d been listening in.

“What’s your worst class?” Neville was curious. His own grades had skyrocketed with only Potions (of course) being his worst.

“History of Magic; it’s tough to stay awake while Binns is droning on about Goblins when the book I got talks about more interesting things like the Great Gold Robbery of 1855. Did you know that the thieves took over a hundred kilos of gold valued at the time at £12,000, or about 2409 Galleons? It’s worth a lot more now, I can’t even begin to…” He stopped when George laid his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Huh? Oh, sorry; anyways, I was thinking of just skipping the class entirely but I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom.” All four turned around to see Professor McGonagall looking down at them. “Mr. Weasley the youngest, I mean. I want you to report to my office as soon as you’re done with your breakfast so we can discuss your grades. Mr. Longbottom, I want to see you there as well for another reason.” She turned and headed out of the hall.

Ron slumped in his seat, “Now what?”

Minerva’s office, ten minutes later…

Neville knocked on the door and opened it when he heard the permission being given. “You wanted to see us, Professor?”

Minerva adjusted her glasses and pointed to a pair of chairs, “I did, Mr. Longbottom. We’ll start with you; I brought you here because I’m concerned that your wand work isn’t up to where it ought to be. I know that you’ve been studying out of those Whitehall texts and I had originally entertained the possibility of promoting you to a more advanced class, but until you’ve proven to me that you can accomplish the practical side; I cannot in good conscience promote you where you’d be facing tougher assignments. May I ask when you received your wand?”

Neville scowled as he pulled out his wand, “My Gran gave it to be before I got on the train. She said that my dad’s wand ought to be ‘good enough for me since it worked for him’. I was never taken to Ollivander’s before starting school.”

Grumbling under her breath, Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She straightened back up and nodded resolutely, “Very well. As soon as we’re done here, I will be escorting you myself to Ollivander’s and will speak to your Gran myself. Her…idiocy is what is holding you back.” Her gaze swung over to where Ron was attempting to blend into the floor. “As for you, Mr. Weasley; I overheard you wishing you could skip Professor Binns’ class entirely. (Ron’s ear tips pinked a bit) I think that is a good idea, at least as an experiment. If I recall correctly, you’re averaging a low A in his class, correct? I’ve reviewed those textbooks you also acquired from Whitehall Academy and if I allow you to self-study over the course of the next month, I want to see that grade rise to at least a minimum of an Exceeds Expectation. If you manage to accomplish this, I will extend the offer to cover until the end of the year. Hopefully by then, my search for a new History professor will bear some positive results.”

Both Ron’s and Neville’s mouths had dropped open in shock. Neville recovered quicker and stammered his thanks. Ron numbly nodded his head, his eyes slightly glazed over from the overwhelming opportunity. “Um, where should I go instead?”

Minerva tapped her finger against the desktop, “Since Professor Binns doesn’t seem to recognize that there’s anyone in his classroom, why don’t you use the adjacent room? It’ll be quiet in there and I can have the elves outfit the room with a proper study area. Are you agreeable to this?”

Ron’s smile could’ve lit up the room. “Yes, professor! I promise to do my best.”

Minerva let a rare smile to show itself, “I know you will. You’re dismissed; Mr. Longbottom, let me place that call.”

Headmaster’s office, after breakfast

Albus returned to his office and slumped into his chair, still smarting at being the butt of Severus’ joke. His attention was diverted by a Ministry notice of an impending trial. He reached over and slit it open. His eyes widened at seeing who it was. “No, No! What the Hell is he doing out of Azkaban?!” He started raging at yet another plan of his being shredded. He bolted over to the fireplace and connected to his Chief Warlock office. “Mr. Hollanday! What’s this I just read about Sirius Black being brought to trial? He was already convicted and sentenced! Find out what you can do to put a stop to this nonsense.”

Gregory Hollanday flinched when he heard Albus’ ranting voice coming through the floo. He turned to face the fire and responded calmly, “I’m sorry, sir but you don’t have that option. You have been deemed too close to the case and are required to recuse yourself. The paperwork has already been filed and approved by the Wizengamot. The best you’ll be able to do is get yourself a place within the Visitor’s Gallery when the trial starts.”

Albus gruffly disconnected the call and paced about his office. “I need to figure out how to stop this. Sirius Black must not gain his freedom. My plans to defeat Tom must not fail; too much has gone astray as it is. If Black is freed, he’ll want custody over the Potter boy and that must never be allowed. The boy’s destiny has already been plotted and must not deviate any more than it has already.” He continued to pace his office trying to come up with ways that would not only discredit Black, but also send him back to prison.

The next day during lunch, Harry was lying on the roof of the school in an area warded off from prying eyes to allow their students to get some fresh air and sun during their breaks or the occasional class if the weather was good enough. Hedwig was sitting on his chest; her eyes closed as he gently stroked her feathers and quietly spoke to her about some of the things he’d learned.

“So my Modern Studies classes are about what you’d expect from learning math, British history, science, and the like. Nothing really new there; even if the math side of things is frustrating because there’re so many rules you have to follow as opposed to when I’m making an outfit, I don’t have time to figure out some sort of operation in order to get the outcome I want.” A flock of pigeons took flight and soared overhead. Hedwig cracked one open to watch them pass before relaxing again. “The computer class is fun though. I like being able to connect to the Net and get my email without having to wait until I get home. I even found a link to a site that does large order embroidery. That would save me and Sunny a great amount of time and effort, I should think. Now, of my magical classes, I think my favorite would have to be Charms. There’s so much you can do with it! It’s a shame that I can’t apply those effects into my fashion line. I have to come up with muggle alternatives in order to bypass the Statute of Secrecy. I have a History of Magic paper coming due in a couple of months; maybe I can write about why I think the Statute ought to be repealed in consideration of what the modern muggle is like compared to the superstition of the past.”

A puff of flame and song preceded the arrival of Hermione and Ix to the rooftop. The bushy-haired girl waved at them before heading over to the shed that held towels, chairs, and other equipment. When they returned, she greeted Harry. “What’s up?”

Harry squinted up at her silhouette, “Do you have to do that flame and song routine every time you go somewhere?”

Hermione glanced over at Ix then relayed what the phoenix said, “She said it’s an unfortunate byproduct of being a phoenix. She can’t control it despite how much she wishes it didn’t happen.”

Harry bobbed his head in understanding, “Fair enough. Come, pull up some grass and relax with us. I was just telling Hedwig about how my classes are going.”

Hermione reached down and fluffed up Hedwig’s feathers under her chin, “Such a good owl, watching over your chick, aren’t you Lady Hedwig?”

Harry pouted as he protectively shielded his owl from her fingers, “Hey, Hedwig is no lady. She’s just a baby.”

Hedwig barked something and cuffed him over the head with her wing. Ix started coughing in laughter which Hermione picked up on a second later. “Ix says that Hedwig says that she’s no baby. She’s something like twenty seven years old in human years.”

Harry sat up and stared open-mouthed at his smug-looking owl, “You’re twenty-seven?!…I fell in love with an older woman? Da-amn… You look fantastic for a grownup!”

Hermione giggled again when Hedwig began admonishing Harry for making a crack about her age. “She says that she’s plenty young enough to keep your raggedy arse in line, Mr. Potter. Remember she’s got claws while you’ve got those pitiful stumps you call nails.”

Harry immediately bowed his head respectfully, “I meant no disrespect my Queen! This humble boy is at your service. I was merely surprised because I had no idea that owls didn’t age the same as we humans did. The shopkeeper said you were about seven years old.”

Hermione shared an exasperated side-eye with Ix. “Boys.”

Time Skip; Saturday 16 April, 2022, Potter Threads Spring into Fashion party

Petunia, acting as Harry’s brand manager, had rented a pleasant venue to hold the show where he’d be able to debut some of his newest designs that hadn’t made it into that season’s London Fashion Week. It was also during this time that he and Kevin had managed to create a functional prototype clothing-recycling machine that would reduce any fabric back down to its thread components, as well as separating out any hardware like buttons, snaps, zippers, and rivets. The two boys had teamed up with Vernon to help come up with the industrial terms to hide its magical origins.

The DJ was blaring out Dua Lipa’s song ‘Levitating’ as Hermione proudly stepped out onto the catwalk wearing a pair of shirred waist, mandela-print fine-weight palazzo pants with two deep hip pockets, a racer-back style athletic top, and a floaty nearly translucent gauzy top in grass green highlighted with specks of gold filament with angel-style long sleeves that had a tie-off strings at the wrists. She cheekily blew a kiss to the crowd and her applauding parents.

Lavender joined her a moment later wearing a high-low skirt with a chaotic print of many colors (when you got up close enough, those colors revealed themselves to be the angular-stylized words: ‘Party,’ ‘Fun;’ and ‘Life.’ Her shirt had an open collar and lace-up front with long sleeves and a built-in cleavage cover-up. The shirt was treated with a thermochromic dye that would react with heat and change color the longer she wore it or if someone touched it. She beamed mischievously and winked over where Justin Finch-Fletchley was fanning himself as she sauntered past.

Debuting for the first time, Pansy Parkinson shyly stepped out onto the runway wearing a flowing two-tiered accordion-pleated full-length skirt that shimmered in the lights, showing off her long legs (something that was a first for the pureblood girl) and a taffeta blouse in metallic copper. The shirt had a wide lapel and three-quarter length sleeves with buttoned cuffs and puffy shoulders. She paused at the front of the stage as instructed and fought to keep her blush from showing too brightly when she heard someone (most likely Vincent Crabbe) wolf whistle up at her from the audience before turning and heading back to the staging area.

Potter Threads After-Party…

Harry greeted his magical friends as they crowded around him when he entered the tent-covered marquee. “Hey everyone, thank you for attending or participating in this fashion show. Let’s give a big applause to the models of the evening without whom, those outfits wouldn’t look half as good as they do on the rack.” He led them in a rousing cheer which caused Hermione’s, Lavender’s, and Pansy’s cheeks to blossom bright pink with Pansy slapping Harry playfully on the arm. “Feel free to wander around and chat with whomever you please. For those magically-raised, everyone is wearing a name badge with a color-coded border around them. Green means that they’re aware and actively participate in the magical community, Yellow means that they’re the parents or relatives of someone magical but aren’t active within the community. They’re the ones to go to if you get hung up on something muggle. The last color is red which means that they’re straight up muggles with no clue about the magical community. I would recommend you have someone wearing either a yellow or green border accompany you then.” He gave Hermione a gentle squeeze and shooed her off to go mingle.

Hermione had other ideas. “Come dance with me, Harry!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the dance floor. He ended up dancing with each of the girls, finally managing to beg off another with Susan and dragged himself off to the bar (non-alcoholic of course, by order of Petunia.)

Kevin wandered over, drink in hand. “Cool party, Harry. I think we were a big hit with that machine you and I worked on. Your uncle’s been chatting with a couple of interested people.” Harry swiped his drink and took a slug from the glass then grimaced at the taste. Kevin laughed at his friend’s misfortune, “I should’ve warned you that I like iced coffee.”

“There’s iced coffee then there’s whatever that was,” Harry griped as he wiped his mouth and scowled at his friend.

Kevin smirked as he took another sip, “Quite literally brewed coffee poured over ice. I’ve never liked the blended version. Too sweet for my taste.”

“Prat, you could’ve warned me.”

Kevin’s smirk grew wicked, “Where’s the fun in that? So how was the fashion show?”

Harry fist-bumped Kevin’s shoulder for the crack about not telling him. “It went pretty well. I was surprised that Pansy managed to walk the runway. She had so much trouble during the rehearsals. I don’t think she’d ever worn heels before. Not much call for it at Hogwarts and from what I’ve heard about the elite’s types of parties, the kids are supposed to sit quietly and just look pretty for their parents.”

Kevin shook his head, “Sounds positively boring. Good thing I don’t go to those sorts of events, I probably would’ve started a fire just to liven things up.”

Harry laughed as he plucked a glass of water from a passing server and quaffed it, “You probably would, you nut.”

Monday 18 April, 2022; Dursley Residence, morning

Hedwig fluttered into the kitchen and dropped off the morning edition of the Daily Prophet in front of Harry then swiped a whole sausage link from his plate. Harry glared at the unrepentant owl, “You’re lucky you’re so gorgeous otherwise I might think you were a pig.”

She dropped the sausage to admonish him. “Bark!”

“Oh, so you’re a dog then?”

“Prek.”

“Well, you just barked like a dog. I had to assume that’s what you were.”

Her response was just a hard glare and a huff before she snatched up the sausage and flew out of the kitchen. Harry flinched slightly when Petunia whapped him on the shoulder lightly with her spoon, “That was uncalled for, Harry. Go out there and apologize to that poor owl.”

Harry gestured over towards the tree in the backyard that Hedwig favored, “She started it!”

Petunia gave him a reproving glare, “I don’t care. Go.”

Harry sighed and trudged out to the tree. He peered through the branches and had to dodge a glob of something that must’ve started off furry and landed with a splat on the ground where he’d been standing. “I deserved that. I’m sorry for what I said, Hedwig. You are neither a pig nor a dog and I was being stupid for saying it. I understand you want nothing to do with me right now, but if or when you change your mind, my window will be open.”

When he returned to the kitchen table, Petunia was primly reading through the front page. Vernon ambled in, grabbed a bacon sandwich from the warming plate, and sat down at the table. He picked up the magical financial section and disappeared behind the pages. Harry noticed someone’s face on the front page above the fold, “Who is Sirius Black?” The part that he was able to read mentioned that pensieve memories had been supplied proving that the man was in no way a Death Eater or You-Know-Who’s ‘right hand man’ as so many believed at the time because of what his family was like.

Petunia folded the paper to see what he was referring to, “Oh, he was illegally imprisoned for allegedly betraying your parents to Voldemort. According to his statement, he’d switched roles with another of their friends who turned out to be the true traitor. Sirius spent the past ten years in prison for something he didn’t do. It’s taken this long because certain parties (she mimed stroking a long beard) have made the process difficult for Director Bones.”

Harry scowled as his memory clicked on who it was Aunt Petunia was alluding to. “That sucks. So what happens now that he’s been freed?” He distantly noticed that Vernon had stopped reading and was observing him over the edge of his paper.

“Well, that’s up to you, Harry,” Vernon answered carefully. “You see, Sirius Black is your godfather and he wants to meet you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Bee in your Bonnet, Albus?

Saturday 23 April, 2022; Neighborhood park near the Dursley residence

Harry paced nervously as he, Petunia, and Vernon awaited the arrival of his godfather Sirius Black and ‘Uncle’ Remus Lupin at a picnic table in the park. “Harry, you need to relax.” Petunia soothingly said to him. She held out her arms and wrapped him up in her comforting embrace. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“But what if they try to take me away from you? For all I know, they’re in Dumbledore’s pocket.”

Petunia snorted lightly, “Doubtful. Remember those stories I’ve told you about your mother’s friends? Mischievous they may be; your mum had the uncanny knack of knowing who was trustworthy.”

Vernon scoffed at hearing that, “Then how do you explain the way they got hoodwinked into trusting the rat that sold them out to what’s-his-face who ended up killing them?”

Petunia gave him a haughty sniff of disdain, “I sincerely believe that they were compelled either by spell or potion to trust Albus implicitly. That’s a hill I’ll die on and there’s nothing you can do or say to make me believe otherwise.”

Harry by this point was smirking at the ‘argument’ between his aunt and uncle and felt himself relaxing until he heard a man’s voice break in. “Aww, Moony; it’s like watching Lily taking down Avery all over again.”

Harry’s head snapped around and stared at the newcomers. “Sirius Black?”

Sirius smiled fondly as he and Remus took a seat at the table. “That’s me, pup.”

“Pup?”

The other man interrupted by placing his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, “Sirius here is what’s known as an Animagus, or a wizard who is able to willingly transform into an animal. He was about to show you but since we’re in public, that wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide, “Neat. What kind of animal? Are you a dragon?”

Sirius barked out a laugh, “Nothing so awesome, I’m afraid. No, I can turn into a large black dog that resembles the mythical Grim.”

Vernon looked impressed, “You’ll have to show us sometime. That must come in really handy if you need to sneak in somewhere secure. (He pointed to the other man) You look familiar somehow…” He snapped his fingers after a moment of thought, “You’re the Leeds Lunatic Slayer.”

The man bowed his head respectfully, “Remus Lupin, at your service.”

Harry’s attention flipped between the two, “The Lunatic Slayer?”

Remus nodded solemnly, “I killed a man who was preying on the children near the town I live in, though to be fair, he was more beast than man. His name was Fenrir Greyback and he was the most notorious and feared werewolf in the entire world.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open, “Werewolf? Those exist? I thought that was pure Hollywood.”

Sirius made a ‘subtle’ gesture in Remus’ direction which earned him a not-so-gentle jab in return. “Leave off, Padfoot. Don’t scare the kid before he’s ready.”

Harry blinked curiously, “Ready for what?”

Remus let out a long sigh, “I’m also a werewolf. Fenrir was the one who infected me when I was a child.” He waited for the inevitable reaction when his secret was exposed.

“Really? That’s sad that you were turned so young. Do you have an aversion to silver? Do you find your victims because of a pentagram on their palms? I learned in History of Magic that werewolves were created because of an odd mutation in how rabies reacted to magical blood.” Harry turned his incredulous eyes on his aunt and uncle, the former of whom smiled back indicating she’d heard this before while Vernon appeared to be just as interested as Harry.

Sirius was practically falling over himself from laughing so hard. “I told you, Moony. The pup’s definitely James and Lily’s kid! There’s no way that he’d ever be anything other than curious about your ‘furry little problem’.”

Remus’ jaw had dropped open, the look of bewilderment clear on his face before he managed to shake himself free. He coughed quietly, “You learned about werewolves at school so early? I thought that wasn’t covered until at least fifth year in Defense.”

Petunia interjected, “Whitehall is different than Hogwarts; so much so that the ‘normal’ pace of learning is far and above what you’d expect from the students of Hogwarts.”

Remus hummed his intrigue, “If I wasn’t so happy about working at my current school…”

Petunia shrugged, “It wouldn’t hurt to stop by and take a look. When we get done here, I can give you their contact information if you’d like.”

Harry tapped Sirius on the arm and hesitantly asked him, “Why did he call you Padfoot?”

“It’s my Marauder nickname.”

Harry blinked, “Marauder?”

Sirius gestured between him and Remus, “Moony and I plus your father and…Peter, were four pranksters when we attended Hogwarts. We created the name Marauders as a way to strike fear into the hearts of bigots and bullies the school over. I’m known as Padfoot, Remus here is known as Moony (“because he’s a werewolf,” Vernon surmised out loud), your father was known as Prongs because he could turn into a stag, and Peter…was known as Wormtail because he could turn into a rat.”

Vernon’s jaw dropped open for a moment before he let out a laugh, “I knew it! I called it, didn’t I?” At Sirius’ and Remus’ look of confusion, he explained that he’d made the reference that James and Lily must’ve gotten hoodwinked into trusting that rat who sold them out to what’s-his-face that ended up killing them. Sirius growled lowly but relented after a calming touch from Remus.

“You nailed it exactly. How we missed the signs is beyond me. Their Animagus forms are supposed to represent who we are magically. We should’ve known when Peter turned the first time…”

Sirius sobered after recovering from his momentary unwelcome trip down memory lane. “Harry, I want to apologize for not being here for you after that terrible night. I was acting stupid and not thinking clearly in my grief at finding my best friend and brother in blood as well as his wife and also my friend dead because I thought I was pulling a fast one on the Death Eaters by suggesting we switch Secret Keepers. Like them, I trusted Albus Dumbledore too much and too easily to do the right thing and for that, I ended up being thrown in prison for ten years for something I didn’t do.” He shared an appreciative smile at the Dursleys. “I want you to know that I have no desire to take Harry away from you. Even in this short amount of time, I can see the loving relationship you have with him. All I ask is to remain part of it somehow.” Harry visibly relaxed at hearing that.

Vernon gestured at Remus, “What about you? I take it that your medical condition is why you weren’t allowed to interact with Harry because of some outdated belief that werewolves are dangerous outside of a full-moon?”

Remus shook his head in amazement, “You’ve pretty much summed it up entirely. The Ministry doesn’t have a problem with me working as a teacher for muggle children as long as I don’t come near anyone with a trace of magical abilities. It’s yet another reason why I refuse to deal with them anymore than I absolutely need to.”

The group continued to chat about Harry’s life growing up with the Dursleys and in the muggle world (Harry had pulled out his phone and brought up his fashion line website to show off some of his designs to the amazement of the two magically-raised men), comparing notes of what the differences were like between the two societies when Sirius brought up an interesting question. “Have you taken Harry to get tested yet?”

Petunia frowned at the question, “Tested for what?”

“Well, tested for the usual magical ailments that usually plagues magical children and getting him his Heir’s ring as part of his inheritance to the Potter family.”

Vernon shared a silent conversation with his wife who shook her head, “No, I didn’t even know that was a thing. Harry’s received the usual medical check-ups at our hospital, of course. Where would he even go to do such a thing and is there anything we ought to look out for?”

Remus answered that, “Saint Mungo’s is our hospital for the magical community within Britain. It’s a simple procedure akin to what you’d do for muggle children. There are a few diseases that magical children can contract that don’t transfer over to the non-magical world, but as long as they’re healthy, the chances of contracting something like Dragon Pox are relatively slim.”

Harry had leant up against Petunia for comfort who asked. “What about that inheritance thing?”

Sirius took that one. “The Line of Inheritance, or Succession depending on who you’re talking to; is an important function within our society. Have you learnt anything about medieval Britain yet? (Harry waggled his hand and replied that they were still working their way through the end of the Classical era.) Okay, this is how it was explained to me. The Line of Succession dictates who will inherit the Headship of the Family; essentially, the Headship passes down through the eldest child of the primary parents of the Main Line, with the order of succession following birth order, meaning older children take precedence over younger ones; this system is now based on absolute primogeniture, where gender does not affect the order of succession. For example, I was born to the Black Family. There are cadet lines with names that are similar to ours like the Blatch, Blackett, Blaloc, Blacklock, I think there’s even a Harrison line somewhere out in Canada if I’m not mistaken…I think you get the point. The only way that they’d be able to inherit anything from the Core Family, is if the entire Core line was wiped out either by being unable to bear or father children, or because of war or disease.”

Remus snorted and shot Sirius a teasing glance, “There’s also an older cadet line to his family that has the surname of Aswad. I remember when James found that out. It took Minerva at least three times to dissuade him from using it because she thought he was being insulting.”

Petunia giggled, “I would’ve thought that Sirius would be the one to have a problem.”

The man in question took on a haughty tone, “It takes more than that to embarrass me. I’m shameless.” Remus muttered something that sounded like, ‘Ain’t that the truth.’

Harry’s mouth had dropped open at hearing that he could be the last to inherit a vast amount of family history. “I feel like I should be taking notes for class. So I need to go into wherever this is checked?”

Sirius nodded his approval, “Yes, you’d have to go into the Ministry’s Hall of Records. They handle all transactions like that.”

“Why didn’t his Goblin Account Manager mention this?” Petunia wondered.

“Because that’s outside their purview; as far as the Goblins are concerned, if you have your vault key then you must be who you say you are. It’s not up to them to police the activities of wizards and witches.”

Vernon cleared his throat, “How likely of an issue would it be for Harry if he didn’t get this checked out? Everyone knows that he’s James and Lily’s son, one look at him can clue in even the dimmest person.” Harry’s proud grin tugged at Sirius and Remus’ hearts.

“It’s only really needed when he reaches his age of majority which is seventeen years old these days. In times of war, that age was lowered to fifteen,” Sirius answered him.

Remus waggled a finger at Harry, “Stop that, every time you give that grin; I want to look over my shoulder for James. He was notorious for giving that look when he was inordinately pleased by something, usually at someone else’s expense.”

Sirius snorted in laughter and sighed dreamily, “Oh, the stories we could tell you about that look, especially when it was aimed at Lily.”

Harry straightened up and pleaded with ‘puppy-dog eyes’, “Please, tell me. I want to know what you know about them. Aunt Petunia’s told me about my mum but she doesn’t have very many stories about my dad.”

Sirius barked out another laugh and pointed at Harry’s pleading expression, “That. That right there is pure James. Alright, kiddo; our story begins on our first train ride north to the mystical lands of Hogwarts…”

Monday 23 April, 2022; Hogwarts, Third Floor Gauntlet

Albus sighed as he directed his wand to remove the enchantments from the flying keys that Harry would’ve needed to evade to find the one that opened the door which led to Minerva’s oversized chessboard trap. ‘My life would’ve been so much easier if everyone had just followed the script! I had everything laid out how it was supposed to go but it all went downhill after that brat wrote a letter home.’ The clinking of dozens of metal keys sounded like rain, perfectly accentuating the mood he was dropping into.

Once that was done, he ducked back through the hidden door that led to the passageway that would allow him or his staff to bypass the traps and headed onwards to the next room. When he entered, he heard Minerva’s distinctive brogue calling out, “Pawn ExD5!” A sharp clang from the white pawn sounded out a moment later as the black pawn was ‘captured.’

Albus smirked to himself despite his growing annoyance, ‘Leave it to Minerva to get distracted by a chess game when there’s work to be done. I knew I should’ve assigned the clean-up of this room to someone else.’  He braced himself from the carnage after hearing “QxD3!”

Grimacing at the sight of the pawn’s head rolling off the board, he yelled to get her attention. “Minerva!”

Minerva didn’t even turn around and called back, “Aye, was there something you needed?”

“You were supposed to have this room cleared out by now.”

“Aye, but when am I going to get another chance to play? I rarely get enough free time to breathe let alone enjoy an invigorating game. Qxc3!” Crash “Nh3!” More destruction rained down on the black and white pieces.

Shaking his head, Albus moved to end the game prematurely only to find his arms stuck to his side and an angry Scotswoman glaring death at him. “Don’t you even think about it, Albus Dumbledore! I will finish this game and be about my way. I shall not have you interrupt me just because you think this is a silly waste of time.” The way his insides were feeling it was a near certainty that if he persisted; his life would effectively be forfeit.

Deciding that retreating was the better course of action, he scampered back towards the bypass hallway to check on what remained of the gauntlet.

Back up in his office, he stared forlornly at the drawer that once held Nicholas’ Philosopher’s Stone and let out yet another sigh of frustration. The ancient man had stopped by the castle earlier that week and demanded the return of his Stone, refusing to hear one word about the need of the Greater Good that it ought to be destroyed. “It is my property, Albus! You have no right to decide what to do with it. I loaned it to you under the pretense that you would be keeping it safe and only showing it to your Alchemy class. I am outraged at both myself and at you for the deception. You had no intention of even teaching this year, did you? If I had the ability, I would go back in time and dissuade myself from ever taking you on as an apprentice.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that someone in this office has been tipping off my opponents of my plans,” he muttered to himself. He knew it couldn’t be the portraits or the elves simply because of the enchantments and wards on both that prevented them from giving out information on current headmasters to outside parties.

That assumption was only partially true. The portraits on the lower level where his desk was located, those couldn’t divulge any of his secrets. The portraits on the upper level however… In the center of the upper level where a large, slowly revolving globe of the planet sat, a portrait of Peter van den Hove (c. 1470 – 26 June 1536) hung in an unadorned, simple frame. He was a German-Dutch music copyist, composer, and instrumentalist as well as a mining engineer, merchant, diplomat and spy of the Renaissance. He was one of the most skilled music scribes of his time, and many now-famous works of Franco-Flemish composers owe their survival to his renowned illuminated manuscript copies; in addition he was a spy for the court of Henry VIII of England. Peter’s portrait was tasked to inform the ruling monarch about whatever the Head of Hogwarts was planning if there was even the slightest chance of a revolt against the non-magical population.

Peter rolled his eyes at some of Albus’ mutterings. ‘What a loon. If he isn’t stopped soon, I fear for the safety of the students.’ He noticed Albus rising and walking over to one of the many bookshelves where he perused the selection for a moment before pulling a particular book covering Magical Events and Tournaments 1294 -1792’ and rummaging around through it. He watched as the aged headmaster grabbed a quill and began scratching out notes on a pad of paper. Albus tore off the sheet and headed for the fireplace. With a rush of green flames, Albus left the school. Once silence returned to the office, Peter called for one of Her Majesty’s elves employed in secret at the castle. “Ellie, I need you to take the pad of paper Albus was using and dust it with ash to reveal what was written on the previous page. I saw Albus writing down some notes then head for the Ministry. I also need you to write down the title of the book that Albus referred to. Once you’re done, those notes must be taken to the Queen.” He told the elf which book it was (She couldn’t take it because who knew when Albus might return and discover it missing.) Ellie nodded and followed his instructions before popping out.

Ministry for Magic, Cornelius Fudge’s office…

Albus entered Cornelius Fudge’s office with a small twinkle in his eye. ‘This plan of mine should be easy to push past this idiot.’ “Ah, Cornelius! I’m glad I caught you. I had an idea about how we could bolster the flagging economy of our society.”

Cornelius glanced up from his never-ending paperwork with a weary sigh, “You do?”

Albus took a seat and laced his fingers over his chest importantly. “What if we were to resurrect the Tri-Wizard Tournament? We could invite the vendors from both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade to sell to the crowds and show the visiting two schools as well as the world that we’re still flourishing.”

Dropping his quill on his desk, Cornelius leant back in his chair to ponder the idea. “The Tri-Wizard Tournament? Wasn’t that disbanded because of the high death toll?”

Albus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he’d hoped Cornelius wouldn’t have known that. “Well, yes I suppose, but we can always add some additional safety features that our predecessors didn’t have.”

Cornelius pursed his lips at Albus’ answer, “Well, I like the general idea, but if we invite Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; that would mean added security would be needed and the Auror budget is stretched thin as it is. On top of that, depending on what the Tasks are, it would require extensive paperwork for creature transfers and whatnot.”

Albus appeared to contemplate this. Inwardly, he was jumping for joy having led the Minister to the choice Albus wanted him to pick. “Well, we could scale it back a bit and just hold our own tournament that would showcase the best our society has to offer. Now, what sorts of Tasks should we go with? I was thinking of something challenging for the Champions to face off against; a dangerous creature like a dragon or something.”

One of Cornelius’ eyebrows rose, “A dragon? Do you really think that’s wise? If we’re going to use something like that, we’ll need to set the age requirement to seventeen to avoid any liability issues.”

Albus bowed his head in agreement while thinking of how he’d be able to enter Harry’s name in regardless. “That’s fair. I wouldn’t want to permanently harm our favored sons and daughters just for a bit of entertainment. As for the Champions, I was thinking of selecting one from each House.”

“That sounds reasonable. What about inviting the media? I know the Prophet would love to tell its readers all about this event,” Cornelius surmised, already thinking of the good publicity this tournament could generate to bolster his falling ratings.

“I think that’d be a wonderful idea, and not just the Prophet but also the Associated Wizarding Press to show the other countries that we are what they should aspire to becoming. Additionally, I had thought about inviting that school the muggle Queen unfairly sent nearly half of our student population to.” Albus temporized.

“Really? You’d want to invite them?”

Albus nodded sagely, “If we manage to pull this off, it would show them that Hogwarts has been and will always be the best school and choose to return to where they belong.”

“I suppose…” Cornelius was interrupted by the intrusion of his Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. “Dolores?”

Dolores had a conniving look on her flabby face (which was a step up from her usual sour expression) as she simpered, “I heard that you were planning something momentous and knew that you’d need your trusted advisor here to help facilitate it.”

Albus was about to intervene when Cornelius held up a file. “I actually have another mission for you that takes precedence over this.” Dolores took the file gingerly, opened it, and frowned at what she read while he explained further. “I need to you travel to these countries to evaluate their hospitality for someone of my status. I have a couple of international meetings coming up and I don’t want to be shacking up in some decrepit hovel, if you catch my meaning. I expect a thorough report so take your time. Your portkey will be ready for you by the time you get to the DIMC.”

Dolores hesitated as she shot Albus a haughty look, “Are you sure you don’t need any help with this tournament thing?”

Cornelius gave her an understanding smile as he rose to his feet and guided her towards the door, “I trust you better than anyone else to make sure this gets the attention it deserves. Don’t worry about funding, that’s already been dealt with. Thank you, Dolores.” He ushered her out of his office and locked it the moment she was gone and slumped against the door. “That’s her out of the way.”

Albus was clearly confused by what had happened yet impressed at the way the Minister handled that insipid toad of a woman, “What was that all about?”

Waving his hand as he retook his chair, Cornelius replied, “I knew that if Dolores got involved with this tournament, and yes I know she’s most likely got a listening charm in here somewhere, probably one of those ugly cat figurines she’s so fond of; she’d find a way to muck things up. She’s a fantastic administrator, but the chances of someone or something triggering one of her usual rants about propriety, blood status, and tradition are incredibly likely and something I’d rather avoid, especially if we’re going to invite the world media. This way, she’s out of my hair and off doing something I don’t need to know about.”

“How long do you figure she’ll be gone?”

Shrugging unconcernedly, “I gave her enough of a schedule to keep her out of the country for at least a year. If I’m lucky, she’ll piss off someone in the Amazon and just disappear.”

Albus was still confused. “But why now and why not just ‘accidentally’ bump her through the Veil?”

Cornelius shot him a look of disdain, “If she disappeared here, there’d be an investigation. If she disappeared somewhere out there, well that’s just a shame and the vagaries of the world. Now, let’s continue planning, shall we? Have you given any consideration as to how you’ll select the Champions?”

Albus stared at him disbelievingly for a moment. He was surprised by Cornelius’ sudden display of ruthlessness. “Um, yes. Uh, I had thought about using the Goblet of Fire, mostly for the dramatic effect that the object projects. Each student must be at least seventeen by the time that the ceremony takes place, which admittedly does shorten the list of potential Champions.”

“I like that idea. Do you have any idea where the device is currently being stored?”

Albus shook his head, “Not at this time, but I’d wager it’s being held down the DoM. It shouldn’t be too difficult to requisition it.”

Cornelius leant forward to rest his elbows on the desk, “All of this is fine by me so far, Albus but I want to make one thing extraordinarily clear. Ever since the muggleborns and raised left our society, things have been getting progressively worse despite what the Dark faction have said. We need their business and money more than ever. I’m giving you a deadline to make sure this event of yours happens. You’ll have until Halloween of this year to get this endeavor up and running. Any later than that, and I will not be able to continue my support.”

“I promise that the tournament will be spectacular, Cornelius.”

He gave the aged wizard a withering look, “It had better be, Albus. If this tournament fails, so does our country.”

Same time, Buckingham Palace; Queen’s office

Queen Elizabeth frowned at the information delivered by Ellie at Peter’s request. “Fools, the lot of them. I don’t understand why they insist on digging their own graves with their persistent pushing to do things their own way when those ways have proven themselves to be antiquated, harmful to everyone, or just plain foolish. I suspect it has something to do with that ability of theirs. There’s no need to use the grey matter between their ears if all they need to do is whip out their wand and ‘magic’ the problem away.”

She set down the stolen pad of paper Albus had been writing on and reached over the desk to press a button then sat back to wait. With a swirl of pseudo-motion, her Royal Wizard Sir Michael Westerland appeared with nary a sound and bowed respectfully, “You called for me, Your Majesty?”

“I did. I have need of a book that I suspect to be magical in nature. (She consulted the pad) It’s called Magical Events and Tournaments 1294 -1792.’ I received word from one of the portraits in his office that Albus Dumbledore is planning on presenting an idea to their Minister to resurrect an old tournament. If what he’s planning is true, I want to make sure it doesn’t happen. It’s my suspicion that this is yet another scheme of his to regain control over his little fiefdom in regards to the muggleborn and raised children I ordered removed from his ‘care’.”

Sir Westerland bobbed his head in agreement, “I understand, Your Majesty but why would you need the book? It’s just a historical reference to the tournaments and other ancient games that are no longer being observed.”

She tapped the pad, “Mr. Dumbledore seems to be laboring under the delusion that he has free reign to do as he pleases. I wish to make sure that whatever plans he has falls down about his ears. If I can learn what these tournaments usually entailed, I can head off anything he might come up with. Additionally, I want you to alert the magical border guards that all creatures with a ‘near-human’ or better intelligence is to be barred from entering the country. Exceptions are to be made if they’re transitory in nature like migrating geese, if they’re being used as part of an already existing research project, or if they pose no threat to the populace if left alone.”

Sir Westerland bowed again, “I shall get you that book forthwith, Your Majesty. By your leave?” He apparated out at her dismissal.

Turning back to her desk, Queen Elizabeth began writing out a Royal Order to make sure that if she passed away (she could feel her end approaching, to be honest) between now and when this tournament took place, her successor would continue following Her plan to rein in those moronic magical people.

It was later reported to Her Majesty that the local werewolf and vampire clans found her declaration of ‘near-human or better’ intelligence exemption from being barred from the country to be greatly amusing and raised her approval rating amongst the respective leaders. One werewolf pack Alpha even remarked, “I never thought I’d live to see the day when a normal would consider human intelligence to be on the low end of the scale!”

Tuesday 10 May, 2022; Whitehall, Potions class

Harry and the other first years were in their scheduled potions class. Each one was wearing their protective gear which made them look bug-eyed and pushed their hair into funny styles because of the goggle straps. Their assignment today was to learn about the composition of color dyeing using both natural and synthetic materials. Harry lit the burner at his station and put a pot of water on the stand then dumped in a measured amount of chopped red onion skins to let them simmer for five minutes. When the timer ran out, he dipped in a square of test fabric, in this case it was ordinary cotton, and smiled at the sight of it turning a burnt orange. “Neat.”

Potions Professor Christine Albrighton wandered around the class observing each of them, offering suggestions, and asking questions to make sure her students knew what they were doing. “How’s it going, Mr. Potter?”

He grinned up at her and showed off the dyed fabric, “I love magic.”

She chuckled at his turn of phrase, “I do too. Now, do you know what ‘mordanting’ does?”

Harry frowned and thought hard, “Um, mordanting the cotton with a protein like soy milk can improve the bond between the dye and the cotton.”

She nodded approvingly, “And what is the definition of mordanting?”

Harry pursed his lips as he rummaged through his notes (Professor Albrighton allowed them to use their notes whenever she asked them questions during brewing.) “Mordanting is a process that prepares fabric for dyeing by treating it with a mordant, a metallic salt that helps dyes bond to the fabric and is a key step in natural dyeing.”

“Now for the bonus round, see if you can explain how a protein is similar to a metallic salt.”

Leaving the cotton sample to dry, Harry consulted his notes and found the necessary information. ‘Thank you Sally-Anne!’ “Um…A protein is similar to a metallic salt in that both can contain charged components that allow them to form i-on-ic…bonds with other molecules, particularly in the case of proteins, where certain a-min-o acid side chains can have positive or negative charges, enabling them to interact with metal ions present in metallic salts; essentially, both can form complex structures based on electrostatic interactions with other molecules depending on their charge distribution.” He blew out an exasperated breath at the end. He hoped she didn’t ask him to explain all that in normal words. 

Christine tapped the desk in approval, “Very good, Mr. Potter. You may continue onto the next part. I expect you already know how to do this thanks in part to your fashion design experience. For your homework which will be due this coming Friday, I would like you to create a dye chart using linen, cotton, polyester, and wool with the ingredients you found to do this test. I also want you to demonstrate how adding certain other elements can affect the coloring process.” 

Harry nodded his acknowledgement. “Can I use magic to speed up the drying time?”

Professor Albrighton smirked and waggled her finger, “Nice try, but no. Casting magic on natural dyes tends to give unexpected results. (She paused with a thoughtful expression on her face) Come to think on it, I’ve changed my mind. I want you to split the experiment; with half of your dyed fabrics, I expect you to follow the instructions explicitly. The other half, I will let you use magic to speed up the process. Compare the two results and write a report to hand in with your samples.”

Harry was bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly, “Thank you, Professor!” He began to clean up his station while she hurried off to stop a potential problem with Wayne Hopkin’s pot starting to boil over.

The next day after school let out, Harry met up with Dean Thomas to go over the final details of their impromptu skit they’d been planning to spring on Hermione and Lavender. Nerves jangling yet feeling determined to put on a good show; Dean and Harry sauntered up to where the girls were hanging out by their lockers. With a slick smile on his face and a languid step, Dean started the music playing on his phone and began to sing:

“I be on my suit and tie shit, tie shit, tie
I be on my suit and tie shit, tie shit
Can I show you a few things?
A few things, a few things, little baby 'cause
I be on my suit and tie shit, tie shit
I be on my suit and tie shit, tie shit
Let me show you a few things
Let me show you a few things

Wait a minute, you ready, HP?”

Harry spun around from behind Dean, a saucy grin on his face, his collar opened, and his tie loosened casually as he joined in (the girls’ giggled nervously, a couple were already starting to fan themselves):

“I can't wait 'til I get you on the floor, good-looking
Going out so hot, just like an oven
And I'll burn myself, but just had to touch it
It's so fly and it's all mine
Hey baby, we don't mind all the watching, hi
'Cause if they study close, real close, they might learn something
She ain't nothing but a little doozy when she does it
She's so fly (she's so fly) tonight!”

Hermione wasn’t the only one standing there with dreamy-eyed and slack jawed at the display before her, swaying to the sensuous music. Lavender and the other girls were fanning themselves at the ‘oh-so-hot’ song and dance being performed by the two boys.

Both Dean and Harry sang the chorus together:

“And as long as I've got my suit and tie
I'ma leave it all on the floor tonight
And you got fixed up to the nines
Let me show you a few things (show you a few things)
All pressed up in black and white
And you're dressed in that dress I like
Love is swinging in the air tonight
Let me show you a few things (show you a few things)
Let me show you a few things
Show you a few things, about love
While we're in the swing of love
Let me show you a few things
Show you a few things, about love, hey!”

Harry reached out to snag Hermione’s hand (Dean did the same with Lavender) and drew her in closer as she giggled at being included.

“Stop, let me get a good look at it. That's alright, 'cause you're all mine
Ooh go on and show 'em who you call daddy
I guess they're just mad 'cause girl, they wish they had it
Ooh my killer, my "Thriller" yeah you're a classic
And you're all mine tonight.”

There was a tremendous explosion of applause and cheers as the song ended. Hermione was within a hairsbreadth away from Harry’s kissable lips, his dreamy emerald green eyes boring into her soul. She managed to squeak out, “You…are so getting kissed when we’re older, Mr. Potter.”

Wiltshire; Malfoy Manor, same time while Dean and Harry were causing the girls to swoon

Lucius and every other Marked Death Eater suddenly gripped their left arms in as shooting pain shot up from their Dark Marks and gripped their hearts and souls. The strangely pulsating effect the Mark had experiencing stopped as mysteriously as it had begun. It now showed as black as it had when it was first applied.

More than one Death Eater stared in horror at what that must mean, their Master had returned to full power and he was not pleased.

The fireplace in the Master’s Study roared green when Eric Parkinson, Head of the Parkinson family and fellow Death Eater stuck his head through, “Lucius! Oh, there you are. What does it mean? The Mark is back which means He is too!”

Lucius flinched again as the Mark stepped up its intensity (Parkinson did as well), “I don’t know what it means; our Lord hasn’t been seen since that Halloween night. (He paced his office for a moment while Eric impatiently watched him.) Tell you what, I have a way to confirm whether or not he has returned or not. In the meantime, get in contact with the others who’ve remained free and tell them to prepare just in case.” Parkinson nodded and disappeared into the flames which reverted to their usual orange color. Lucius in the meantime, strode over to his bookshelf and tapped a specific sequence on a hidden rune array embedded within the woodwork. A secret cabinet opened with a click revealing certain items that would spell disaster for him if they were ever discovered.

One of them was a black journal that practically dripped evilness.

Taking the journal to the desk, he opened it up to the first page and used a quill to write, “Are you in contact with the primary?”

“I am not. The primary has vanished for some reason. Why do you ask?”

“Our Marks have flared as if the primary has returned to full power.”

“That is unexpected. I suspect that the primary attempted a ritual to reconnect with his followers and it failed somehow. The pull you’re feeling is likely the result of that failure, a sort-of last ditch effort to alert you to his predicament.”

“What should we do?”

“In the likelihood of the primary no longer being available to lead, I shall take over. Fill me in with what has transpired since you last saw him.”

Lucius spent the next several hours filling in the Diary entity about that fateful Halloween night based on the rumors that circulated in the intervening ten years. The pages were empty as the ink was absorbed before the Diary responded, “I think for the time being, I should remain as I have. You will continue to report to me about any developments that might arise. Additionally, I want you and the others to be on the lookout for a viable sacrifice to be used as a new body for me to transfer my essence into.”

“Do you have any specifications to what you’re looking for in a sacrifice?”

“Good question. The sacrifice should be of pureblood stock, preferably someone who would not be missed. I would suggest looking to the mainland for someone suitable. Pick someone who is between the ages of twenty and thirty years of age. Any younger and it would be difficult for the public let alone my followers to believe that I am their savior. Skin color is immaterial to me, but do not dare for a moment to think that I would accept a female’s body as a substitute!”

“Your Will be done, Master.” Lucius sat back in his chair to ponder his next move.

Friday 13 May, 2022; Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office

Albus was not having a good day. The fact that it was Friday the 13^th just made it all that much more vexing. Nearly everything he needed to do to be able to bring the Hogwarts Tournament to fruition was being thwarted or at the very least being hindered to the point where he once again wondered if someone was listening in on his plans. The owl that just delivered a message from one of his Ministry contacts just added to his growing headache. He bolted out of his office a mere moment after reading the missive that said Severus had been arrested and was going to be given Veritaserum to answer questions about his and Albus’ roles during the previous conflict as well as a number of rumors about illegal activities involving magical children, including the heirs and heiresses of important families. Albus had hurriedly sent a message to Minerva telling her that she would be in charge until he could return with Severus safely from the Ministry.

Confused, Minerva called for an elf, “Do you know if Severus is still in the castle?”

The elf looked off as it communed with the Network before answering, “Professor Bat be still in his office.” It popped away with Minerva’s thanks and dismissal.

She got up and headed down to the dungeons, pausing every now and then to speak with a student who had a question or to admonish an amorous pair of lovebirds about the spectacle they were putting on. She nearly hit the roof when she overheard one fifth year shamelessly calling a girl a ‘dirty mudblood.’ “How dare you! You will apologize this instant for your hurtful words and that’ll be fifty points from Ravenclaw. I thought your House was supposed to be intell…” She trailed off when the girl in question burst out into a fit of giggles. “What did I say was so funny, Miss Pendergast?”

Emily Pendergast fought down the giggles to reply that William Garston was her boyfriend and just ‘talking dirty to get me excited.’ “Honestly, professor, he didn’t really mean them. He’s just so…romantic.” She batted her eyelashes at the madly blushing teen boy.

Minerva threw her hands up and looked skyward for Divine Intervention. “Teenagers… Fine, just…go somewhere private where I won’t have to hear or see anything and remember to use protection!” She loudly admonished the rapidly vacating teens.

When she reached Severus’ office, she knocked on his door and opened it when bid to do so. She caught sight of the man sitting in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk, tossing a Bertie Bott bean in the air and catching it in his mouth. ‘This is the Severus we never get to see.’ It warmed her heart and yet increased her confusion a bit to see him so relaxed in the face of the conflicting information she’d been made aware of. “Albus left in a hurry,” she remarked curiously. “He seemed to believe that you needed rescuing.”

Severus grinned while still chewing on the bean. “I’m starting to appreciate those two words that Potter and his cronies used to say whenever they got done pranking someone.”

Minerva cocked her head in befuddlement, “Which two words?”

Severus winked mischievously, “Mischief Managed.”

She stared goggle-eyed at him, “You pranked him? Who are you and what have you done with the sourpuss we’ve all come to know?”

He cough-laughed and sat upright, dropping his feet to the floor. “I’m sorry but the opportunity was too good to pass up. I called up a colleague of mine who owed me a favor and figured that today of all days would be perfect to mess with his head. He’ll race down there kicking up a fuss about questioning me when he has ‘complete faith’ about my innocence and demand my release from their custody. I’m certain Director Bones will get involved and most likely try to remand him to get checked out by Saint Mungo’s if for no other reason than to get him out of her department.”

Minerva twirled her finger at the room incredulous at his audacity, “So all of this was because you were feeling bored or something?”

Severus shrugged unconcernedly, “It’s Friday the 13^th, the best day to screw with a manipulative boss. He’ll be distracted enough by his misadventure that it’ll give anyone who wants to order something ‘special’ for their subject the opportunity to do so and will likely get it approved just so he can go back to bed and hide for the rest of the day.”

Minerva hummed her approval, “I like that idea. My department could definitely use some new equipment. Good show, Mr. Snape. Ten points to Slytherin for your cunning.”

Severus tipped her a jaunty salute and returned to his bean tossing.

Monday 16 May, 2022; Whitehall Academy

The serpent security shirt that Kevin and Harry had developed was tested multiple times by both boys as well as a number of willing volunteers who visited Diagon Alley for a ‘live fire’ field test. They reported back that the enchantments worked like a charm, no pun intended. The volunteers experienced the urge to seek out a nearby Auror while the shopkeepers or anyone else who glared at them long enough suddenly experienced the urge to visit the toilet.

Kevin wrote up the reports from the volunteers and included all of their joint research before passing it onto the Deputy Headmaster, Robert Washington. Robert thumbed through the typed pages and examined the enchantments the two pre-teen boys had come up with and was impressed by their scope. “I’m frankly amazed that you came up with something like this. What is it that you hope to achieve by bringing this to my attention?”

Kevin cleared his throat nervously, “We were hoping to have the shirts made into being part of the official uniform to be worn whenever we have to visit a magical location like Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, or wherever. Harry also had the idea of turning the security charm into a necklace to be worn instead but we don’t know how to make jewelry yet.”

“Mm-hmm,” Robert replied thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll pass this up to the Headmistress to get her assessment. If she approves, we’ll see about getting the necklaces made instead of the shirts since it would be far easier to make the necklaces fit most people rather than trying to figure out everyone’s clothing size. Does the chain of the necklace matter?”

Harry shook his head, “No, the enchantment would be housed completely within the engraved plate. If you don’t like the serpent design, we’ve got a couple of others that can take its place.”

“So why was the serpent was chosen?”

“Simplicity,” Kevin answered. “We rigged up the test piece during lunch and didn’t want to try it out on anything complex.”

Robert placed the report on his desk and smiled warmly at the two boys, “First off, I’m proud at what you’ve accomplished here. You’ve given the school a viable way to solve the issue of protecting ourselves from the purebloods and anyone else who might think to harm us. If all goes as I suspect it will, your names and accomplishment will be featured on the front page of the next issue of Whitehall Weekly.”

Both boys were jubilant as they were dismissed to head off to their next class. Harry danced a jig when the left the Deputy’s office. “I can’t wait to tell my family! This is huge!”

As the rest of May segued into June, the first years were confronted with a new challenge. Deciding which of the many possible electives from the extensive class list they would be granted to take wanted to take starting their second year. They’d only be able to take one elective next year, but it was an important transition from general studies to a more focused path. Hermione wasn’t alone as she and some of the others started stressing out about what subjects they’d want to take. “There’s just so much to consider!” She whined quietly at lunch a couple of days before their scheduled meetings with their school advisor. “I look at some of these electives and want to take them all! You don’t suppose that the school would let me use a time machine, do you?” She tugged on her hair in frustration as her eyes continued to scan the list of available classes.

The others in their little group laughed whilst simultaneously commiserating with the distraught girl. Lavender tapped one listing, “I think I want to do something that helps others, and especially for the newly discovered muggleborns after their kids have their first bout of accidental magic. How many of our parents must’ve been freaking out because there wasn’t any information or assistance on how to cope when your kid starts making things float or something?” More than one of those there wholeheartedly agreed with her idea.

Seamus idly transfigured a spare notebook into a rock-like golem then back again, “If I still had my old wand, I would be thinking about going into something that involved demolition. Now though, I don’t have a clue about what I want to do with my life.”

Anthony Goldstein nudged Harry, “Let me guess what you’ll be taking. (He held the paper up to his forehead like a cheesy fortune teller) I see you taking something involving lots of fabric and sewing needles!”

Harry laughed and playfully shoved his friend on the arm, “I would, but I’ve already got plenty of experience doing that. No, what I plan on taking is Beginning Arithmancy. My work with Kevin in creating those security enchantments for the serpent shirt really interested me in the subject. I also plan on taking Advanced Charms and Transfiguration when third year comes around.”

“It sounds like you’ve got your future pretty well mapped out, Harry.” Sally-Anne Perks quipped as she made a mark on her sheet to look into taking the Beginner course of Care of Magical Creatures. Her prosthetic arm clicked against the table causing the girl next to her to flinch from the sudden noise. “Sorry.”

The girl next to her, Fay Dunbar waved it off. “No worries. I’m surprised you’re not going to take the Magical Engineering track, Sally-Anne. I would’ve thought you’d go that route to improve upon your prosthetics.”

Sally-Anne nodded, “I will be, but I also want to take a fun class too. I like being around animals, even the supposedly scary ones. I’ve already spoken with the Care professor and he said that the beginners won’t be getting into anything much past a two X until our third year.”

All heads turned towards Harry who’d just made a humming noise of intrigue. Hermione nudged him, “What?”

He shook his head ruefully, “I just had the weirdest feeling that maybe I ought to sign up for a music class focusing on guitar and that somehow or where I’d be playing to an audience where some version of me was playing chase on a fast broom against a dragon.”

Seamus scoffed, “You’re right, Potter. That is weird."

June

Hogwarts; End of Semester testing

Ron sat nervously waiting for Professor McGonagall to hand him his first test to determine whether or not he’d be able to continue with his self-study using the Whitehall textbooks. Minerva glanced down supportively, “Relax, Mr. Weasley; I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I’ve seen you study before and if those end of chapter quizzes are any indication, you’ll have this test in the bag, as it were.” She laid down the first paper for Transfiguration. “You have ninety minutes to complete the test. If you manage to finish ahead of time, just stay in your seat quietly. I will collect your paper at the end of the allotted time. You may begin.”

Four hours later, and Ron was feeling the pressure. He’d just finished answering the last question for his DADA test when he heard the professor call out, “Time’s up.” He dropped his quill and sank into his seat with a frustrated sigh of defeat. Minerva gave him a sympathetic smile, “You may go onto lunch now, Mr. Weasley while I finish grading your tests. When lunch time is over please head down to the potions laboratory where Professor Snape will oversee your practical examination.”

Ron all but raced out of the classroom. He made it up to the Great Hall and plopped down at the first open spot at the Gryffindor table to begin building his lunch. He flinched slightly when he heard the stereo sounds of his twin brothers’ voices as they slid onto the bench on either side of him. “So? How was the new test?”

“It went alright, I suppose. They’re a lot tougher than the quizzes,” Ron replied in between bites of his food. “I’ve got my practical potions exam with Snape after lunch.”

The twins grimaced at hearing that; Fred mock-gagged, “What a horrible way to go. Potions exams right after lunch. You’d think they’d give you a chance to recover your wits and stomach.”

Percy puffed up pompously to his youngest brother’s effort, “I for one, am very proud of your drive, Ron. If you keep this up, there won’t be a department in the Ministry who won’t be clamoring for you to join them once you graduate.”

Ron rolled his eyes, “Not all of us are destined to be slaving away in the bowels of the Ministry, Perce. Mum might have plans for our futures all laid out, but I want to fly for the Chudley Cannons once I graduate.”

Percy waggled his finger reprovingly, “Mum only has your best interests in mind. You would do well to listen to her.”

“Lay off, Percy,” George scowled, “Ron’s right. It takes a mental fortitude to stay strong in the face of endless boring meetings and long hours filling out useless and mindless reports on cauldron bottom thicknesses.”

“That’s right,” Fred picked up next. “Some of us might want to live a little before settling down to get that stable job that’ll last us until our twilight years.”

“As long as those twilight years don’t turn you into a vampire that sparkles in the sun and can’t act worth spit,” Ron quipped to the confusion of the others. At seeing that, his ear tips pinked, “Sorry, it was something I saw a while ago.”

Later that evening, the teachers had gathered to discuss the results from Ronald’s self-study program. Filius read over the report and was impressed by it, “Mr. Weasley managed to get Exceeds Expectations in all his subjects? Severus, I’m surprised you gave him that grade.”

“Surprised me too, quite honestly but the results speak for themselves.”

Pomona glanced over at Minerva, “So what does this mean for the rest of the students? Do we continue as before or should we overhaul the curriculum to the Whitehall texts?”

Albus cleared his throat while giving the others a disappointed expression. “Once again, I must protest all of you going over my head to alter what has always worked for us in the past. Has Mr. Weasley done an exemplary job of improving his grades? Yes, that’s never been in question; but I strongly oppose the desire to throw out the old ways simply because of the efforts of one student.”

Minerva wasn’t having any of his bloviating this time. “Keep up this attitude, Albus and I’ll be speaking with Griselda about the idea that perhaps you’ve become too complacent in your role as Headmaster and should be replaced with someone who can keep up with the modern trends in magical education.”

Albus blithely dismissed her threat, “That was totally beneath you, Minerva. Besides, I’ve done an exemplary job as Headmaster.”

“Says the man who lost the allegiance and guidance of his phoenix,” someone muttered not-too-quietly.

Albus ignored the rude comment, “This subject is moot anyways, summer is almost upon us and next year we will be too busy dealing with a spectacular event that will be held here at Hogwarts starting in October.”

“Oh? Pray tell what nightmares have you in store for us,” Filius groaned.

Albus’ demeanor darkened at being so rudely spoken to. “Next year, the school will be hosting a tournament to showcase our status as the best school of magic in all of Europe. We will have a Champion from each of the four Houses who will undergo three Tasks designed to test their bravery in the face of the unknown, a test of daring to rescue something that they hold most dear from the clutches of an overwhelming opponent, and show cunning to make their way through a gauntlet of traps and challenges within a maze of magical hedges.” He smiled proudly at the others in hopes of it spreading around.

The silence in the room grew heavy. “That has to be the most asinine plan I’ve ever heard from you, Albus,” Severus remarked as he pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the headache he knew would be forming. “You’re basically taking the Tri-Wizard Tournament of old and merely removing the participation of the other two schools.”

Albus huffed in annoyance, “What’s wrong with this plan? I think it’ll work out for everyone. I’ve designed it to be a benefit to not only the school but also to the businesses within Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. They’ll be able to boost their sales to visiting dignitaries, the students and their families, as well as the media while everyone is having a great time.”

“What are these tasks that the Champions will have to overcome?” Pomona inquired. “I do hope it’s nothing dangerous. If I recall correctly, the last Tournament was cancelled because all three contestants died from a rampaging cockatrice.”

Albus coughed uncomfortably, “Well, I’m still working on the first task. The paperwork involved is driving me insane because someone alerted the border guards to bar any creature of a class 4X and 5X nature from entering the country. I thought perhaps we could use Welsh Green dragons or maybe a couple from the Hebrides for the Task, but I’ll let you…”

He was interrupted by Minerva’s hand slapping the table and her harshest yet glare, “You will not be importing dragons for this cockamamie idea of yours, Albus Dumbledore! Dragons take at least a trained team of twelve to properly subdue and I will not have you subject a single student to face those beasts alone just for a shiny tin cup and pocket change.”

Albus looked affronted at the accusation. “A thousand Galleons is hardly pocket change.”

“It is to the majority of our students, especially those in my House,” Severus drawled as he nonchalantly examined his nails. “You’re going to have to think of something better to offer as an incentive to participate.”

Albus crossed his arms over his chest and sulked, “I think this meeting is concluded. If you have nothing further? The matter of changing our curriculum to compete with that upstart muggleborn school is a non-issue. I will not allow Hogwarts to pander to the few who want to try something different.”

The others broke up and left the room. Severus pulled alongside Minerva, “If you plan on changing the curriculum despite his opposition, I’ll need some time to come up with a new lesson plan. I examined the textbook while Weasley was taking the test and I don’t have half of the equipment required to brew some of the recipes.”

Minerva nodded resolutely, “I’ll make sure you have plenty of time.”

Friday 24 June, 2022; Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office while the students were returning home

Albus sat in his chair and contemplated everything that had happened since the start of the school year back in September. Everything had gone according to his plans up until Halloween then it all turned to hippogriff droppings. “It all comes back to that letter the Potter brat sent to his relatives. Unfortunately, because of the short-sightedness of that Bones bitch, I am unable to approach the boy or his family without experiencing undue amounts of pain no thanks to that restraining order.”

“…so much for the Greater Good…”

His head snapped up, “Who’s there? Show yourself!” The room remained silent except for the ticking of his clock. Hearing nothing further, he returned to his introspection.

“…Just think of what you could’ve accomplished…”

That he heard quite clearly. Albus rose to his feet and carefully approached a portrait of his former lover Gellert. The portrait was a basic model he’d added to the wall after being appointed Headmaster. The image was confined to the edge of the picture and could only perform basic poses. He leant in to closely examine the face of his former friend and confidant. “I could’ve sworn…”

The portrait’s eyes swiveled over to his and winked. “Miss me, Albus?” It spoke quite clearly, something it was definitely not supposed to do. Albus flailed and retreated back a few steps before pulling out his wand and aiming it at the portrait. Gellert shook his painted head disparagingly as it probed the edge of the canvas. “Come now, Albie. Is that any way to treat your best friend? The one who knew you better than your own self?”

“You’re not real. None of this is real. You’re just a portrait! This is just in my head!”

Painted Gellert seemed to grow larger as it emerged from the frame, a dark smirk on its face. “Of course it's happening inside your head, Albus. Why should that mean that it's not real?” He pointed towards the headmaster’s chair where Albus could see himself still asleep…or worse. He flinched from the touch of Painted Gellert who ran its fingers delicately and lovingly over Albus’ face and crooned softly, “We’re going to have so much fun together…For the Greater Good, of course.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Fun Times Under the Summer Sun

Monday 27 June, 2022; Dursley Residence, Harry’s bedroom

Harry was relaxing on his bed, enjoying his summer vacation when his idle gaze fell upon that mysterious trunk that had shown up during the Muggleborn Exodus from Hogwarts back in November. He rolled out of bed, popped the lock open, and lifted the lid. Rummaging around, he discovered a rather thick book with the odd title of ‘The Potter Book of Prompts and Promises: An Anthology of What Might’ve Been or Could’ve Happened.’ “What is it with the magical world and their obsession with strange titles for things?” He mused out loud before opening the cover to read the table of contents. His jaw dropped open at reading the first few prompts, “What the bloody Hell?!”

Dudley stuck his head in after hearing Harry’s yelp, “What’s up, Hairball? What got you so excited?”

Harry held up the book, “This thing is both incredible and weird. It’s full of bits and pieces of things I can’t even describe. Here, for example:

“I'm telling you, Ron; I can get hit all day long and nothing happens. I mean, I'll feel the impact of your fist but without any of the pain or injury." Ron shuffled on his feet, unsure about this.

"Tell you what, start simple," Harry encouraged, "Give me a light slap across the face." Right as Ron's hand impacted Harry's face, two things happened: Professor McGonagall walked in on them, and Ron felt the slap across his own face.

"What are you doing?!" Minerva shrieked.

Ron was still rubbing his cheek in shock so Harry replied, "I was just telling Ron that I am imp...im...imperv...unable to get hurt. My cousin Dudley tried to beat me up but ended up being the one taken to the hospital." (Dudley’s jaw dropped open in surprise.)

Minerva stood there in surprise, "I dinna ken... Any sort of injury?"

Harry shrugged, "I haven't tested all the ways yet beyond the physical, but yes."

Minerva looked pained as her feline curiosity reared up. She brandished her wand and sent a mild stunner at Harry. To Ron and Harry's surprise, she was the one who slumped to the floor.

The two boys glanced at each other and grinned, "Wicked!"

***

Word got out that Harry Potter was some sort of Impervious Superboy which only fueled the legend that had been building since 1981. All of the students wanted to take a poke at him, even at risk of personal injury. Filius and Minerva oversaw the testing and found that NOTHING anyone tried to do to Harry: be it physically assaulting him, all the way up to using advanced level poisons; had any effect on the target, only to the attacker.

Now, you would think that this newfound ability would cause Harry to have a swelled ego. Ordinarily you'd be correct, except for one thing. Harry always had his best friend Hermione Granger to deliver that needle puncturing quick wit to bring him back to reality. 

It was she, who discovered after potion's class one day mid-semester, that there was one "attack" Harry had no defense against. She shyly gave him a kiss on his cheek after he'd intercepted a hex from Draco, sparing her from discomfort and embarrassment. The look of surprise on his face as he gingerly reached up and touched the spot, "I felt that..."

Dudley cuffed Harry on the shoulder, “Did you feel that?”

Harry scowled and rubbed his sore shoulder, “Ow! Yeah, of course I did.”

“Then whatever that was, obviously wasn’t real. Here, pick another one.”

Harry flipped through the pages before settling on another one. “Okay, this one involves you again.

Dudley Dursley was not someone that anyone would normally ascribe the tag of intellectual or insightful, should they ever meet the lad. (Dudley scowled at hearing that.)

It was during the summer before 5th year while Harry was listlessly hanging around the local park, trying to come to grips with Cedric's death when he heard the chatter of his cousin and his gang approaching. "Did you see those Nancies parading around in those dresses, Big D?"

Dudley nodded then briefly paused at the sight of his cousin, "Though if I were a wizard and wanted a place to hang out with like-minded people with whom you could share his sad tale with, the Renaissance Faire at the fairgrounds would be the place to go."

Harry stared at his cousin retreating form in open-mouthed shock, 'Did he just suggest what I think he just said?' He got up and followed the gang back, knowing that whenever Dudley arrived home was when his aunt decreed to be him late and punished.

***

Harry stood there panting heavily after using his Patronus to repel the Dementors. He crept over to Dudley and helped him up into a sitting position. "Here, eat this." Harry handed him some leftover chocolate. "It helps." (Dudley eyed him curiously to which Harry shrugged.)

"What happened?" Dudley croaked.

"Not sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if the Ministry had something to do with it," Harry grumbled. He watched Dudley's face for a moment, "Genius idea you had there, back at the park. Hanging out at the Renaissance Faire? I never would've thought of that."

Dudley smiled wanly as he wiped his fingers off on his trousers, "Thanks, Harry."

Nodding uncertainly, Harry helped him to his feet, "Come on, I don't fancy being outside if those demons decide to come back." An owl fluttered down at that moment, a letter attached to its leg. Harry groaned at the sight of it, "Would you please follow us? After the encounter with a pair of Dementors, I want to get back home for safety."

Dudley was confused at his cousin's conversation with the bird, "Do you think it understands?"

Harry gave him a lopsided grin, "It's just like magic, Dudley."

Dudley just groaned and rolled his eyes as he continued lumbering home.”

“Dementors? What’re those?” Dudley scrunched his face up, “Do you really think of me as some kind of idiot?”

Harry shook his head, “No idea, we haven’t really gotten into the really dark creatures at school yet and no, I don’t.” His eyes grew wide, “What if this book tells of different universes parallel to our own?”

“That’d be awesome yet a bit terrifying to be honest. I hope I never meet an evil version of myself; if I did, there’d be one less Dudley to return home. That Dudley sounds like a real berk.” Dudley theorized then clapped his cousin on the shoulder, “Come on, let’s go see about raiding the fridge.”

Harry snorted, “Yeah sure, let me put this back in the trunk and I’ll meet you downstairs.” Once Dudley had left, he flipped to another entry. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as a wide smile spread across his face, “Oh, this is too perfect! I need to contact Sirius…” He sat down at his desk and started drafting up an email to Remus seeing as how Sirius still hadn’t figured out modern electronics.

Dear Uncle Remus;

I hope you don’t mind if I call you ‘Uncle.’ I’m writing to let you know about a book I found in a trunk that had been sent to me after the muggleborn and raised had left Hogwarts back during last November. Have you ever heard of ‘The Potter Book of Prompts and Promises’ before? If not, you and Sirius ought to swing by sometime to check it out. It’s full of what-ifs involving me and my friends (plus some enemies) and pranking ideas that honestly are making me laugh so hard. For example:

 “Magical Britain was utterly losing their collective shit after rumors started circulating that the Statute of Secrecy had been blown out of the proverbial water. Curious, Harry called Hermione to find out if she knew what was going on, but she didn't. Next, he wrote a letter to Neville figuring the magically-raised teen ought to know what the hullabaloo was about.

A day later, Harry received Neville’s response, "Harry, according to the rumors, someone has put up huge signs on buildings across London, declaring that magic exists. There should be some near you."

Now even more curious, Harry took a walk around town. His attention was caught by the quick sight of the word 'magic' on a billboard across the street. He took a better look, loudly groaned, and facepalmed himself, "Those idiots..."

‘Think magic doesn't exist? Then explain [insert restaurant name and dish.] Merlin and Morgana, it's magically delicious!’

Now, I don’t know about you, but I think the magical world could use a bit of health check by pranking them with this to see how well their hearts could withstand the shock. Anyway, not much is happening here. Aunt Petunia and I are going to be heading out to Paris from 11 July to the fifteenth to attend a fashion trade show so if you want to stop in, I’d recommend you swing by afterwards.

I can’t wait to see you both!

Harry

Finishing up the email, he hit send then bolted from the room when he heard Dudley call his name again asking about something that involved pudding.

Wednesday 13 July, 2022; Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor

Lucius sauntered into his Master’s Study with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand and a bundle of scrolls under his arm. He settled down in his chair and took a pull from the alcohol, “Ah, say what you will about those damned muggles, but they make an excellent whiskey.” His musing was cut short at the sight of his Master’s journal sitting ‘innocently’ to the side of his desk. His shoulders tightened with the expected tension he always experienced whenever he wrote in the damned thing. Figuring he might as well get it out of the way, he plucked a quill out of its holder and dipped in the inkwell.

“Master, I have acquired the identities of several possibilities for the sacrificial body you require.”

“Tell me about them.”

“The first one is approximately thirty-five years old. He comes from a relatively wealthy family whose fortunes were built as smugglers during the Crimean War of 1853. The son in question is reasonably intelligent, preferring to stay sequestered in the family library for hours at a time.”

“I agree, that one has potential. If I assume his position, no one would question my intelligence. Who else do you have?”

“Uh, let’s see… I have one here. Age is on the younger side, approximately twenty-two years old; the bulk of his family was killed off during Grindlewald’s war of the 1940s. He’s alive today because his grandfather had been studying in Durmstrang at the time of the attack. The family is currently reasonably well-off and the candidate is rather handsome if the picture is anything to judge.”

“Any downsides to note of this one?”

“He’s got a drinking problem according to the reports. He seems to favor the Firewhiskey a bit too much to be healthy.”

“That is not an issue for me. What else?”

“Of this one or another?”

“Another.”

“Do you have an issue if the sacrifice is South African?”

“Tell me.”

“He’s about forty years old, rather ugly if you ask me; not at all impressive physically. Born into a prominent family in Praetoria, South Africa. Father owned an emerald mine, was a bully to everyone, and raised his son in a wilderness school described as a "paramilitary Lord of the Flies" where "bullying was a virtue" and children were encouraged to fight over rations. Lord of the Flies?”

“Muggle book about survival, it is of no consequence. Continue.”

“The report goes on about his political and socio-economic views, all of which are staunchly conservative if not downright brutally draconic. He’s a drug abuser, something called ketamine. He’s fathered thirteen children with several women yet cares for none of them. He also has no problem using his children as human shields every time he needs to appear in public.”

“I’m starting to like this one. Does he have any magical ability?”

“None that I’m aware of, and the report doesn’t indicate it.”

“Still, this muggle has shown great potential and if I’m able to acquire his identity, my own actions will not arouse suspicions.”

“Will your magic transfer over as well to a muggle body?

“It will, at least according to the information I’ve read. Now, tell me about what preparations you’ve done to bring about my resurrection.”

“Well, I have learned through my Ministerial contacts that Dumbledore is planning on resurrecting a scaled-down version of the Tri-Wizard Tournament to showcase the highlights of what it means to be a British wizard. Ever since the muggleborn or raised were pulled from our society by the muggle Queen, the economics of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade have taken a drastic nosedive. It’s my opinion that Albus is attempting to use the tournament as a way to save what remains and as an avenue for him to regain control over the Potter brat. We could use the tournament as a way to bring Potter to us. I’ve been told by my contacts that Dumbledore plans on using the Goblet of Fire to choose the Champions. If Potter were somehow entered, he could be guided by someone we put on the inside to the location of your choosing.”

If a diary could shake its head, this one would’ve done so. “Damned old fool. It’s an overly complicated plan, it would’ve been so much easier to just subjugate the Queen into changing her mind and send the mudbloods back. No matter, I shall deal with this after I’ve acquired a body.”

Several times during their conversation, Harry Potter’s name was mentioned much to the consternation of another listening in. With his bat-like ears, he was able to hear his Master’s plotting quite clearly. The poor creature, an elf named Dobby twisted his ears in trepidation as he whimpered, “Dobby must protect Harry Potter!” The clink of Lucius’ tumbler alerted Dobby to the movement inside so he popped away before he was discovered.

Thursday 14 July, 2022; Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office

Albus settled himself into his office chair to begin yet again to find something befitting the tasks the Champions for the upcoming tournament would need to face. His features contorted with anger as he read the latest missive from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. “Blasted border guards! How dare they prevent me from accomplishing my work by banning anything of a Class 3X nature or higher from entering the country! That removes the possibility of acquiring dragons; even the Hebridean Blacks cannot be transported. What else can I use?”

His research into the world of unusual magical creatures was slow-going. Books, manuscripts, letters, and other reading material began piling up on and around his desk as he discarded one possibility after another. It wasn’t until the sun’s light was stretching into the faded red of the late afternoon before he found a potential contender. “A puffskein can do what now?!” His eyes bugged out for a moment as he read further, “Oh, well that’s different…” According to the file, a Bolivian explorer had discovered a parasitical version of a puffskein in the magical swamps of Colombia near the border of Peru in the long-lost ruins of an ancient temple. The creature reportedly ensnared its prey when it detected the presence of anything entering its territory. The creature would then use a pheromone that induced the victim to pick it up and start cuddling it close to their body; while keeping the victim in a trance-like state by emitting a rhythmic ‘purring’ sound. Once the victim was relaxed and no longer had the desire to move (anywhere up to thirty minutes depending on the size of the victim and their talent with Occlumency), it began feeding on the victim’s bodily fluids and salts through tendrils that attached and buried themselves through the victim’s pores and other openings through the skin (eyes, ears, nose, mouth, anus, etc.) Eventually when the parasite had gathered enough nutrients, it began to reproduce in a manner similar to fungus.

“That’s positively evil.” Albus mused, “I wonder why it was developed in the first place. Either way, it works for me since the creatures are still listed under the rating for normal puffskeins. Curious how that ended up being… meh, no matter.” In a distant corner of his mind, he worried about whether or not the Champions from the four Houses would be able to cope with this creature; it wouldn’t do to have an heir from an influential family die at the tendrils of this monstrosity. Albus merely shrugged off the unease. “If they are so weak-minded that they cannot fend off a tiny creature like this mutation, then they shouldn’t be allowed to prosper.”

Further down the report, it was stated that depending on the size of the prey, complete breakdown could take as little as a month or as long as five years (humans were noted to being on the higher end of the scale.) During this time, the victim remains distantly aware of what was happening but was powerless to stop it.

“Hmmph, where was this thing during the last war? I could’ve used this instead of relying on Tom’s predations of the populace. It probably would’ve been easier too.” He decided that this ‘Parasitical Puffskein’ would suffice for the time being unless something better was discovered. Albus reached for his quill to start taking notes, “I wonder if I could slip one to Harry Potter as a punishment for defying me…”

After completing as much as he could, Albus decided that it would be a good time to put in an appearance in the Great Hall for dinner. As he entered, his quick reflexes saved him from getting smashed in the face with the remnants of a flung pie (despite this quick reaction, his beard still got splattered with some of the filling.) Albus wiped off the larger spots and sniffed his hand; grimacing when his nose detected the scent of Key Lime pie (he detested Key Lime.) His head felt slightly wobbly but he managed to shake it off especially when he saw the condition of the Great Hall. To his horror Albus saw that the normally placid room had devolved into an all-out war as the students (and some teachers) were in the middle of an epic food fight! Albus whipped out his wand and cast a deafening cannon blast while bellowing, “ENOUGH!” The combatants froze as he thundered, “Who is responsible for this disruption?!”

Minerva gave him a curious appraisal, “Responsible for what, Headmaster? It’s dinner time like it is every day at five o’clock.” Her calm demeanor unnerved Albus more than anything.

“Do you not see the carnage around you, Minerva? The food fights?” He waved his hand out towards the students…only to freeze in shock. The formerly food-festooned student population was now dressed as they normally would be with nary a pile of thrown food anywhere. Most of them continued to eat as if nothing had happened nor had he fired off that cannon blast.  “What just happened?”

Minerva tilted her head in concern. “Albus? Are you feeling well?”

He frantically glanced back at the door he’d just entered, the wall and floor was clean as if nothing had been thrown at him! “B-but…someone threw a pie at me as I entered…” his voice trailed off into a strained whisper. He felt the gentle tendrils of diagnostic magic drifting over him as Poppy worked her magic to determine what seemed to be ailing him. She shook her head ruefully and recommended that he return to his apartment for a good night’s rest.

Poppy retook her seat after seeing him relent and shuffle off then glanced down in Flitwick’s direction, “Nice job, Filius.” The moment Albus closed the door behind him, the illusion on the wall dropped revealing the aforementioned pie remnants. A scant second later, the students vanished as well revealing an empty Hall.

“It wasn’t just me, you know. It was Severus here who included the Nightmare potion into the pie filling.” Filius buffed his nails against his robes while grinning at the usually dour man whose was valiantly trying (and failing) to hide his own victorious smile.

Bathsheda Babbling huffed, “A Nightmare potion doesn’t create an illusion as mundane as a food fight nor the fact that there was no one here but us.”

Severus knocked on the table top, “It does if the thing that frightens you the most is the appearance of impropriety. Students must not be seen acting in a manner that could be construed as bringing shame upon how he runs the school. Poor, poor Albus…” Filius coughed with laughter.

Septima Vector shook her head, “What I don’t understand is why he didn’t pick up on the fact that he’d been pranked. He should’ve spotted that almost immediately.” Her observation was directed mostly towards Poppy.

“He’s been under a lot of stress lately with all of his most recent schemes to bring things and people ‘back to his script’ as it were.” Minerva agreed and revealed that she’d known that Albus had been sequestered away in his office all day trying to figure out a way around the restrictions the muggle Queen had placed upon him to get this blasted tournament going. The others made their own noises of agreement, with Poppy commenting dryly, “He’s been overly tired and not thinking clearly; this prank proves that. Mark my words; it’ll only get worse as time goes on.”

“Shouldn’t we intervene before that time comes?” Septima wondered. “I mean we could all chip in and send Albus on a well deserved vacation to the Bahamas or somewhere warm.”

Severus was heard muttering that a warm destination downwards was definitely an option. Minerva ignored him in favor of suggesting that Septima take the lead on investigating what could be done and when the best season would be. “I’d prefer it if he was sent on a one-way journey to a tropical mental patient ward, but at this point anywhere far away from the school would suffice.”

Sunday 17 July, 2022; Dursley Residence

Sirius and Remus arrived a little past noon to Harry’s delight. “You made it! Come on, we can go hide out in my studio.” He latched onto Sirius’ hand and dragged the poor man along to Sirius’ bemusement and Remus’ laughter. Both men stared in awe at the sight of the machinery, racks of cloth, and cabinets of other things. Tucked away in a corner operating one of the embroidery machines was Sunny who distractedly waved to her boss.

“That’s Sunny. She’s normally a Hogwarts elf who also works for me,” Harry explained.

Sirius cocked his head curiously, “I’ve never seen an elf wear clothes before without fear of being banished.”

Harry puffed up proudly, “I made that for her. She told me what she’d wanted as her ‘official uniform.’ According to her, it’s a clever workaround to get past the whole ‘elf banishment’ thing. The outfit’s a cargo version of a pinafore dress with a cute T-shirt with the words: ‘Today’s forecast is going to be Sunny all day’.” He walked over to one of the bookshelves and removed the Potter Prompts and Promises book. “Here’s the book I told you about.”

Remus took it and flipped through the first couple of pages. “I’ve never heard of this book, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it did originally reside within the Potter Library. If I recall correctly, the Potters had a library that could rival Hogwarts’ library for size and content."

Sirius agreed with his friend as he looked over Remus’ shoulder. “Even my own family had their own specialized library dedicated to anything and everything regarding the Dark Arts. It’s how we eventually became known as the Black Family.” He whistled appreciatively at some of the prompts, “Wow, that’s incredible. (He pointed at one entry) I like that one. The Whoopie Cushion, fart machine, snapping gum pack, flower squirter…why did we never think to incorporate muggle pranks into our repertoire, Moony?”

Ignoring Sirius for the moment, Remus glanced over at Harry. “This book doesn’t cover the fact that you ended up at Whitehall?”

Harry shook his head, “I think the Queen threw a monkey wrench into Fate’s plans with the sudden change of schools, but who knows for certain? It doesn’t matter; the only way I’m going back to Hogwarts is if someone plots to kidnap me or something.” He turned to Sirius, “Anything to do with the Dark arts? Do you think they had books on how to paint in the Noir style?”

Sirius snickered, “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

A crack of noise that all present associated with the arrival of an elf caused them to turn to see a bedraggled elf wearing a stained and torn pillowcase staring around at all the unfamiliar equipment. His tennis ball-sized green eyes landed on Harry as he gushed, “Harry Potter! Such an honor it is!”

Harry lamely waved his hand, “Um, hi. Who are you?”

The elf bowed low, “Dobby sir, Dobby the house elf.”

Harry shared a confused glance with Remus and Sirius before kneeling down to Dobby’s level, “There. Now you don’t have to crick your neck trying to look up at me.”

Dobby started sniffling, “Harry Potter kneels to speak with Dobby? Dobby is so unworthy!”

Harry fought the urge to laugh. “Okay, was there something you wanted to say to me? I mean, if you wanted to buy some clothes for yourself…”

“Oh, oh, yes, sir! Dobby understands! It’s just that, Dobby has come to tell you- it is difficult, sir- Dobby wonders where to begin?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Harry motioned towards the step up to the fitting platform.

Dobby’s eyes grew even larger than they normally were, “S-sit down? S-sit- sit down?” His sniffles grew until he was practically bawling.

“Dobby, ssh! I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything.” Instead of stopping, Dobby just cried even louder. Harry turned to his uncles, “A little help here?”

Sunny knelt down next to the still-wailing elf and gently laid a hand on Dobby’s shoulder effectively silencing his cries. “Dobby comes from an abusive family. His Master is probably cruel to him.”

Dobby nodded his head in mute agreement, his ears flapping. “Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but never has he been asked to sit down by a wizard, like an equal.”

Aghast, Harry reached out to take Dobby by the hand, “That’s horrible! You can’t have met many decent wizards then.”

“No, I haven’t,” Dobby replied then gasped at his audacity to admit that. “That was an awful thing to say!” He began bashing his head with his fist, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!

Harry grabbed both of Dobby’s arms and held him close while whispering, “Stop, Dobby! Dobby, shh! Dobby, please stop! Whose family do you belong to?”

Dobby trembled in Harry’s arms and shook his head, “Dobby cannot say. Master has forbidden him.”

Undeterred, Harry turned to Sunny who simply replied, “Malfoy.”

A groan from Sirius had all of them turning around to see him scrubbing his face with his hand, “Figures that French fop would be the one to abuse an elf, not that my own family was the paragon of propriety either, but still! Being enslaved is bad enough, but to abuse your elves is just abominable. Lily taught us that much.”

Harry couldn’t believe it, “Dobby is enslaved? Is that why you had to punish yourself?”

The poor elf nodded forlornly, “Dobby is bound to serve one family forever. If they knew Dobby was here... (He shivered in fear) But Dobby had to come. Dobby has to protect Harry Potter…to warn him. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year! There is a plot, a plot to make most terrible things happen.”

To Dobby’s surprise, Harry barked out a laugh towards the adults. “Ha! Did I call it or what?” To Dobby, he replied, “You don’t have to worry about me going back to Hogwarts. I haven’t been a student there since November of last year. I go to Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry and love every second of it.”

Dobby’s mouth dropped open, “Y-you do? But Dobby’s Master was certain that you would be heading back to Hogwarts.”

Sirius joined them on the floor and spoke directly to Dobby. “Dobby, do you know what your Master is planning?” Dobby bobbed his head while wiping his nose on his stained pillowcase. “Let me guess, you are forbidden from telling another person?” Again with the nod much to Sirius annoyance.

Harry on the other hand started snickering. “I’ve got it. Since Mr. Malfoy clearly doesn’t think that Dobby is a person, why don’t you just tell whatever Mr. Malfoy is planning to Sunny? (He glanced in her direction) You don’t mind do you? Dobby tells you whatever it is, while we just ‘happen to listen in’.” His face brightened, “Oh, I read a prompt in that book about this sort of thing!” He popped to his feet to grab the book and began rifling through the listings.

Remus let out a snort of laughter and clapped Harry on his shoulder, “Yeah, you’re Prongs’ son alright. That was downright sneaky, Harry.”

Holding up the book, Harry cheered. “I found it! Listen to this:

“A month before second year, Harry was relaxing in his room reading his textbooks and idly twirling his wand when there was a popping noise near his window. Dragging his eyes away from his reading, he spotted a bedraggled little creature that resembled a scrawny Yoda wearing a filthy pillowcase.

"Harry Potter, sir," the creature squeaked when it realized that it had been seen.

Harry sat up, "Hello, who are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Dobby the House-elf."

Harry looked Dobby over, "Was there something you needed, Dobby?"

Dobby looked pained as if in the midst of a personal battle, "Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter not to go back to Hogwarts! There are terrible plots this year."

"Oh, for the love of..." Both Harry and Dobby turned at the voice from the doorway where Petunia stood; annoyed derision plain on her face. "There's ALWAYS a plot or problem going on in that nut house. What is it this time? Is someone planning on bringing in some enchanted doo-hickey or wildly dangerous animal that'll kill with a single glance?" Harry couldn't help but laugh at his aunt dramatic drawl. Dobby stared utterly flabbergasted at her, his mouth hanging slackjawed. 

"Dobby, I remember what Lily told me about house-elves. You cannot go against your master's orders to tell another person, right? (Dobby dumbly nodded) Given your appearance, your master must serve the Dark, right? (Again, Dobby nodded) Fine, go to Gringotts and speak with the Potter Family Account Manager. We both know that wizards, especially those who serve the Dark, don't consider the Goblins to be people."

"Why tell him and not me, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked her.

"You're only twelve. There's very little you can actually do whereas your account manager is an adult; he can be told the whole plot without Dobby here running afoul of the restrictions placed on him and won't have to think of ways to pass along his message that will leave the possibility of getting someone hurt or killed."

"Oh, I didn't think of that."

"Oh, and Dobby? Did you steal Harry's mail?"

Dobby stood there in shock before shaking himself, "Dobby was sure that if Harry Potter didn't get any letters from his friends, he wouldn't want to go back." 

Harry snorted at that, "Dobby, the only people I write letters to are the few from the magical world. The rest I call on the telephone. Even if I suddenly stopped answering my mail, those magical friends know to reach out to my muggleborn friends who then call to find out what's going on."

Dobby heaved a great sigh, "Harry Potter truly is a great wizard if he can do all that." He handed over a stack of stolen mail before disappearing with a crack of noise.

Harry glanced at his aunt who shook her head derisively, "Magical people or creatures, not enough brains in their heads. Come on, Uncle Vernon brought pizza home.”

Dobby wasn’t the only one to stand there slightly glassy-eyed from what he’d heard. Sunny was heard giggling at the dumbfounded expression on the elf’s face. “I hadn’t thought about taking your mail, Harry Potter. That Dobby is smart to think of keeping you from your friends and making you think they’d abandoned you.”

Remus took the prompts book again to give it a more in-depth read through, “That prompt was scarily accurate, even if it did miss a few details. With your permission, I’d like to go through this and copy out some of the more ‘enlightening’ entries, especially the ones regarding Albus, the Dark Lord, and Malfoy.”

Harry chuckled at the elf’s reaction, “While I do have friends that go there, I’m not too concerned about what, if anything, might happen. Dumbledore brought whatever nightmare is going to present itself upon himself. (He pointed towards Sirius) I do suggest that you take what you’ve heard to the DMLE and let them deal with it. I just got you back into my life and don’t want to see you carted off in a body bag because you did something noble and stupid.” To Remus, he answered that he was fine with as long as the book ended back in his possession.

Sirius was grinning toothily, “That right there was pure Lily. Alright, pup; I promise not to hare off and act the part of the village idiot.” Remus said essentially the same thing. Meanwhile Sunny and Dobby held their conversation in full view of the others where Dobby revealed that Lucius was in contact with the Dark Lord through an evil book. They were both planning on disrupting the upcoming Hogwarts tournament by awakening and releasing the basilisk that slept beneath the school to purge the school of the unworthy.

Harry scrunched his face up in confusion, “How would any of that apply to me though? I’m not a student there anymore and isn’t Hogwarts composed of only purebloods nowadays?”

Sirius waggled his hand, “Purebloods and magically-raised half-bloods, some of which aren’t all that influential. I remember Lucius having problems with Arthur Weasley. It was some sort of family feud stretching back a couple of generations, I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lucius planted the book on one of Arthur’s kids to discredit the man for any number of reasons.”

Dobby via Sunny replied, “Headmaster Dumbledore is planning on inviting you to witness the tournament. It is Master Lucius’ thinking that the Headmaster is plotting to involve you somehow and force you to compete. Neither Master Lucius nor the Dark Lord really understand why though.”

Remus pondered that and surmised that Albus was probably using the illegal entry into the tournament as a way to test Harry for some nebulous part in his vision for the Greater Good. “The number of times I’ve heard him utter that phrase…it used to make my skin crawl knowing that someone within the Order was probably going to die soon.”

Sunny pursed her lips before speaking, “Dobby, would you be able to steal the book from your Master and bring it to the Director of the DMLE or the Department of Mysteries?”

Both adults brightened at her suggestion. Remus commented, “That’s positively brilliant, Sunny.” Sunny mock-wiped her tongue to mark an imaginary tally in the air and gave him a cheeky wink.

Harry snickered at her sassiness. “So are we agreed with what should happen? You or Sirius takes the information to Director Bones while Dobby tries to steal the book from his Master and hands it off either to her or whoever runs that Mysteries place.” He noticed that Dobby’s attention was focused on his forehead. “What is it, Dobby?”

Dobby had been staring at Harry’s forehead while the others were discussing their options and tremulously pointed at it. “The magic within Harry Potter’s scar feels just like that dark book Master keeps writing in to the Dark Lord.” Remus pulled his wand and with silent permission from Harry, cast some diagnostic spells at the pre-teen; all of which turned up something dark green with a black tinge to it. Both Sirius and Remus started yelling at the sight of the glow.

Harry whistled loudly, “What? What did you find?”

Sirius pulled Harry into his arms, “Sorry, pup but Moony’s scans revealed that you’ve got something Dark with a capital D embedded within your scar.”

Sunny leant in to examine it closer then without warning, swiped at it with a sharp knife, and sliced off the scar tissue as well as the skin and muscle beneath it. Just as fast, she applied some elf healing magic which forced the wound to knit together and stop any bleeding before it really got started. Harry let out a shocked yelp and pulled back, “What the Hell, Sunny?!”

Sunny calmly examined the removed material before she encased it in a yellowish stone. “I remember most of my training from my previous Mistress before she died and I started working at Hogwarts. She was a cursebreaker and one of the things that she taught me was how to recognize and deal with Horcruxes (Sirius moaned at hearing that.) I used elf magic to remove the evil presence and the surrounding tissue.”

Harry tenderly felt around the spot that used to contain his famous scar, immediately noticing the distinct lack of pain from the area. He’d lived with the low-grade tension for so long that it just sort of faded into the back of his consciousness. “So I’m good?”

Sunny nodded, “Yes, if there is any residual pain, just take a pain-relief potion and you’ll be fine by morning.”

Harry got up and crossed the room to look in the mirror. He pouted slightly at the unblemished skin. “Damn, that lightning scar was part of my brand logo. (He glanced back with an amused sparkle in his eyes) Any chance you could apply something to make it look like it’s still there?” Sunny rolled her eyes before answering that she would be taking the Horcrux to be disposed of and popped out. Dobby promised to try getting the book away from his Master, but made no promises. Harry laid his hand on the elf’s thin shoulders, “Be safe, Dobby. That’s all I ask.”

Wiltshire, a few moments later…

His task of informing Harry done, Dobby reluctantly returned home to Malfoy Manor where he hurried into the kitchen to help prepare the evening dinner. When he popped into the Mistress’ dining room with her food and drink, Narcissa called out for him to stay a moment. “Where were you this afternoon? I know you weren’t anywhere on the property.”

Dobby froze; his eyes wide and fearful. “Dobby was…out, Mistress,” he desperately prevaricated.

Narcissa gently took his hand and stared into his eyes, “Tell me. Where were you?” Unable to resist a direct command, Dobby revealed what he’d done and who’d he’d spoken to then cringed to await his fate. To his surprise, his Mistress wholeheartedly approved of his interference. “That was a bold and noble thing you did, Dobby. I approve of the plan; in fact, I shall retrieve the book for you. In the meantime, I am ordering you as your Mistress not to reveal what you’ve said or done either with me or with Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, or the elf Sunny.” She made sure to cover all of her bases so Lucius couldn’t find a workaround. She returned to her indifferent tone of voice, “Thank you, Dobby. You may return to your normal duties.” Her eyes turned distant and cold as she began to formulate a plan to deal with her idiotic husband aka ‘dead man walking.’

Dobby felt the tension flee and popped away in relief.

Monday 1 August, 2022; Potter’s Threads Studio

Harry welcomed Sally-Anne and her mother into his studio, immediately handing her a leotard and pointed her towards the changing area. Petunia joined them a few minutes later bearing a tray of tea and snacks. “Thanks for helping out, Sally-Anne.”

“Are you kidding, Harry? It’s an honor to help you model your clothes.”

Her mum agreed with her daughter, “May I ask what brought this on, Mr. Potter?”

Harry smiled, “Please, you can just call me Harry. I don’t stand on ceremony. As to why I’m doing this, it’s simple. I’ve seen Sally-Anne struggle with her uniform at school sometimes and it got me wondering if I could do something about it. As it turns out, yes I can. She might not be able to button up a shirt or work a belt buckle easily, but there are other methods of securing clothes for people who don’t have a lot of dexterity with their hands.” He gestured to the fitting platform when Sally-Anne emerged. “Velcro, magnetic buttons, zippers; all have their benefits.” He handed the pre-teen an outfit that included a V-shaped spaghetti shoulder strapped top in pink, a pair of shorts with magnetic buttons and heart-shaped hip pockets, and finally a shiny ‘diamond’ macramé-woven halter-neckline cover-up that had a fringe that extended down to her knees.

Sally-Anne slipped on the clothes then posed in front of the mirrors. She bent and squatted as instructed by Harry and noticed that the buttons hadn’t popped open. “Strong magnets,” she observed.

Harry bobbed his head as he tugged and tucked on the outfit, “Yeah, magnetic buttons don't open when sitting because the force holding them together is usually strong enough to resist the slight movement and pressure changes that occur when sitting, keeping the closure secure even with minimal physical interaction; unlike traditional buttons that might come undone due to slight shifts in fabric tension while seated.”

Sally-Anne tilted her head curiously, “But they’re weak enough for me to open them with just my fingers?”

“Exactly, and they’re weak enough that they won’t interfere with your prosthetics either.”

She beamed, “Sweet!”

Her mum questioned him about other designs he had for people who were confined to a wheelchair. “As I understand it, their clothing has to have a slit up the back to allow them to sit comfortably without the clothes bunching up on them.”

Harry had a couple of pins in his mouth preventing him from answering for a moment. When he was through, he directed the girl to walk around a bit. “Yes, that’s what my understanding is too. For the moment, I don’t have any designs for them because I don’t know anyone who uses a wheelchair.” He turned back to Sally-Anne who was beaming with happiness, “So? What do you think?”

“I love it. I can’t wait to show everyone.”

Harry nodded, “Glad you feel that way; I’ve got a couple more designs for you to try.” His eyes started twinkling as a stray thought crossed his mind, “Hey, I’ve got a question. Can you make your hands do anything if they’re not attached?”

She paused to think about it then shook her head, “No, why?”

He snapped his fingers, “Darn, I had the strangest idea that you could make the hand walk around like Thing from The Addam’s Family and freak everyone out at school.”

Sally-Anne’s face brightened, “Ooh! That sounds like a fun prank to pull on everyone! I wonder how I’d be able to do that.” Her mum shook her head ruefully and gently admonished her daughter to not do anything crazy. Sally-Anne returned with a wide-eyed expression of ‘innocence’ that left Harry wheezing with laughter. “Would I do that? I’m a good girl, Mummy.”

Mrs. Perks shook her head and shared a look of exasperation with Petunia, “Kids these days; whatever happened to my sweet, shy daughter who looked to me for life’s answers to everything?”

Petunia sympathized while teasing her nephew, “I know, right? It seems like only yesterday when Harry needed my help when he needed to get his PJs off so he could use the bathroom.”

Harry rolled his eyes while scoffing. “Funny. Okay, you can take that off so Sunny can make her alterations.”

Sally-Anne got a close-up look at Harry’s forehead when the lad had to re-pin some decorative lace onto a glittery top. “Harry? What happened to your scar?”

Brushing his hair out of the way, he smiled, “You like it? It suddenly opened up and drained away last night.” A lie of course, but she didn’t need to know the truth. “It doesn’t hurt, or didn’t after all of the gunk in there drained out.”

She reached up and traced her fingers against his skin, “That’s good that it finally cleared up but what’re you going to do now that it’s no longer around? You’ve got a lightning bolt in your logo.”

Harry shrugged unconcernedly, “No idea, but I don’t think it’ll matter too much. Logos change over time, you know. As long as people remember the quality of the clothes, I don’t think they’ll care if the lightning bolt is there or not.”

Hogwarts while Harry was fitting Sally-Anne and getting teased by Petunia…

Albus was once again going through his notes and research, hunting for something he could use for the second and third tasks. A stray thought crossed his mind, “What about coming up with smaller events that anyone could take part in? I’ll need to delegate that out to someone else; the main events are taking up too much of my time to fuss about with those.” He rose to his feet to place a floo call to the Ministry. “Is Ludo Bagman in?”

Ludovic Bagman, former Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps and now Head of the Department of Magical Sports and Games, joined Albus in his office. “What’s going on, Headmaster?”

Albus smiled perfunctorily, “I haven’t been your Headmaster for quite some time, Ludo. You see, the reason I’ve called for you is because I have need of some assistance running the sideshows and smaller participation events for this Triathlon I’m putting together to showcase Hogwarts’ exalted position within the magical international community. I’ve already come up with the contents of the First Task when I had the idea that it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else if they couldn’t take part in showing the rest of the world that only the brightest students attend the best school in all of Europe.”

Ludo nodded enthusiastically, “I couldn’t agree more. So what sorts of side events are you thinking of?”

Albus spread his hands grandly, “Well, how about a Quidditch game or two? The whole tournament will last throughout the year starting in October all the way to June of the following year which ought to be plenty of time to organize and play as many games as the teams can do comfortably.”

Ludo bobbed his head with growing excitement, “I like the sound of that! Maybe we could invite the scouts from the professional teams too… or even open up the games to anyone with an ounce of flying ability.” He started rambling ideas as fast as they started popping up.

Albus smiled smugly internally, ‘I knew it wouldn’t be all that difficult to get this buffoon on my side. A chance at shiny bits of tin and the opportunity to bet on the players…he’s so easy to manipulate.’ “That’s wonderful Ludo. Now that you’re onboard why don’t you get started on drafting up your ideas to be discussed by the end of this month? Remember that the events should be exciting yet easy enough for a first-year to take part in.” He quickly ushered the idiot back through the floo. Once the fire returned to its normal orange colors, Albus sighed with relief, “That’s one thing off my mind. If he fails to accomplish anything, I cannot be blamed for it. It’s a shame that I cannot pass off this whole thing onto him.”

He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and sucked on it for a while, grumbling. “Now to figure out the second and third tasks… I wish Fawkes was still around, I’d be able to bounce some ideas off him.”

Hermione’s home, the next day

Speaking of the immortal phoenix; Fawkes, or more appropriately known as Ix, was currently observing her new charge and wondering just what was going on in the pre-teen girl’s mind or how much caffeine the child had consumed to get her so riled up. Hermione bounced and flitted about her bedroom tossing clothes, books, magazines, and other bits and bobs while muttering and screeching about ‘not finding it.’ “Perhaps if you kept your room clean all the time, you’d be able to find what you lost easier.”

Hermione growled softly and shot her a look of annoyance, “You’re starting to sound like my mother, Ix.”

“We mothers know, Hermione. It’s part of the magic of who we are.”

Hermione threw her hands up and huffed, “I wish I could use magic to clean this up.”

“Why can’t you?”

“We were told that magic cannot be practiced outside of school to prevent the muggles from seeing.”

Ix shook her head, “That law only applies if you were still attending Hogwarts. It was used by the purebloods to keep the muggleborns from outperforming their own useless spawn. Based on what I’ve sensed about your home, your new school installed wards that would prevent anyone from noticing you performing magic in the privacy of your room. However if it appeases your sense of fair play, I can take a letter to the Department of Underage Magic to let them know that you’ll be cleaning your room and that your room is on the second floor which is out of view of anyone barring a balloon and a pair of binoculars.”

Hermione couldn’t help it and let out a relieved giggle at Ix’s offer and explanation. “Perfect. Thanks, Ix.” She skittered over to her desk where she began scratching out the letter then handed it over to the phoenix who flamed out a second later. When Ix returned, she carried with her a return letter of permission and thanks for alerting them to what was being planned. ‘It’s not every day that we get advanced warning by such a thoughtful student. Good luck in accomplishing your task.’

Hermione beamed after reading it then pulled her wand from her purse and aimed it at the chaos that was her bedroom, “Alright, let’s see what I can do.”

Downstairs, Emma and Dan listened with trepidation as their daughter thundered around her room. Dan let out an aggrieved sigh, “Ten quid says she’ll find her favorite magazine behind her headboard again.”

Emma snickered, “No bet. That’s too easy.” They both looked up again when the tell-tale sound of Ix’s song heralded her arrival. “Ah, good. Ix is here; maybe she can convince our daughter to keep her room clean.” More thumps were heard a few seconds later, a different sound than before prompted both of them to go investigate. They got to see Hermione waving her wand in a complicated manner, causing her magazines, books, and clothes to pick themselves up and fly to their appropriate locations. Drawers opened and closed as the items were magically sorted, make-up bottles secured themselves and lined up on shelves, her clothes hung themselves up in her closet.

When it was all done, Hermione squeaked at the sound of applause, blushing madly at being caught doing magic. “H-how long have you been watching?” she stammered.

Emma gave her daughter a hug, “Long enough. That was fantastic, Hermione. I’m so proud of you.”

Dan patted her on the shoulder then gave his daughter a ‘stern look.’ “Now we expect you to keep it this way. No more excuses now that you know you can magically clean it.”

Friday 19 August, 2022; Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor after the Diary Exchange Incident in Flourish and Blotts

Lucius flopped down in his chair after returning from Diagon Alley. Draco had disappeared into his room; his wife was nowhere to be seen though according to the wards, she was still in her sitting room. He growled at the memory of Arthur Weasley accosting him in Flourish and Blott’s. ‘It’s not like that pitiful excuse of a wizard is even remotely capable of besting me.’ He idly felt his inner pocket to discuss some issues with his Master and frowned when he discovered the pocket to be empty. “Oh, sweet Salazar! Where is it?” His face paled as a flicker of a memory of him thrusting a tatty old book into Weasley’s daughter’s cauldron. “Oh, no…”

His frantic musing was interrupted when Narcissa appeared in doorway wearing a barely-there, see-through something from La Perla. “Lucius, are you coming to bed soon?” The sultry expression on her face promised an evening of unparalleled debauchery.

Lucius felt his higher brain functions begin to falter and his tongue grow dry. “Urk…um, heh…momma…” If he was a cartoon, he'd be panting and howling like the Tex Avery wolf.

Narcissa smirked teasingly, “Use your words, Darling. Does Mummy’s big Niffler want to go play?”

Lucius barely regained the power of speech as he wheezed out, “Where did you get that outfit and can we buy more of them?”

Narcissa giggled at his reaction. “From one of the Muggle shops I visited. Who knew that they could be so creative with clothing? I brought home a catalog so you can pick some things out too.”

A vacant smile on his face, Lucius dreamily replied, “Really?”

“Oh, and I cast triple silencing charms on our bedroom. So I reiterate: Are you coming to bed soon?”

Lucius lunged out of his chair and swept his wife off her feet; Narcissa giggled as he carried her out of the room. Dobby materialized from wherever he’d been hidden to listen in on whatever else Lucius had planned. He practically tore apart the Master’s Study only to discover what Lucius had realized only moments prior to Narcissa’s entrance. Wringing his hands, Dobby hoped that his Mistress would be able to tease the location of the diary from her husband. If not, this coming year would be disastrous to say the least!

Weasley home in Ottery St. Catchpole, later that night…

‘This is the Diary of Ginny Weasley, woe to any of my brothers (or my mum) who dares to peek into my innermost thoughts.’

‘Hello Ginny Weasley. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come across this book?’

Ginny stared at the writing, a slow smile creeping across her face. She remembered her lesson from her daddy about trusting things that wrote back. “I plan to use this diary as a record of my monthly flows and other physical developments. I’m hoping that I won’t start bleeding and cramping until I’m away from home. Merlin knows that my mum would just cause a scene like she does with all of my other life milestones. I still haven’t fully recovered from the time when I discovered masturbation…”

Inside the pages of the diary, the entity that is Tom Riddle aka Lord Voldemort cringed and screamed the more this Ginny Weasley wrote about her experiences with pleasuring herself. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go! Did she just describe…Gah, that’s disgusting! Lucius, where the Hell are you?!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: A Return to Where It All Began Fraying (Back to Pigzits!)

Friday 19 August, 2022; Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor; after Narcissa guided a horny Lucius from his study

Once again for as many times in the intervening fifteen minutes, Lucius wondered about how he’d managed to get himself embroiled in the situation he now found himself in. Narcissa had lured him to the bedroom with promises of debauchery and lust, only to shackle him to the bed using razor wire to his wrists and ankles which were threatening to cut off the blood supply to his extremities. Gone too, was Narcissa’s drool-inducing, barely-there lingerie. Now she stood above him dressed in a severe, high-collared black dress while aiming her wand at his wedding tackle and demanding answers. “I’ve learned from a source that you have been plotting to destabilize everything with someone claiming to be the Dark Lord. He’s dead, you idiot. Dead and gone. We have had peace for nigh on twelve years yet you sought a way to bring him back? What idiocy has possessed you to think that this would be a good idea?” Narcissa didn’t yell, but the barely controlled rage at her husband was simmering just below the surface. It was patently clear that Bellatrix wasn’t the only one to harness the power of the Black Madness to strike fear into her victims. Narcissa merely refined the roiling emotions into an art form.

“It was a mistake!” Lucius whimpered. “Dumbledore had contacted me about the mysterious reason for our Marks behaving as they were. This led me to conclude that something happened to our Lord; I was only going to check with the item that He had provided to me for safe-keeping to see if it had any ideas about what might’ve happened but then it started suggesting ideas that made sense at the time.”

Narcissa shook her head and growled in a manner that would’ve made any Goblin proud. “We will not be going back to living in fear of some psychopathic half-blood with delusions of grandeur. What was this item that the Dark Lord gave you?”

Lucius flinched when the razor wire nicked his left ankle, “It was a black journal with the name T.M. Riddle inscribed on a book plate on the rear cover. The more I wrote in it, the easier it became.”

Giving her husband a contemptuous sneer, Narcissa quickly concluded that the journal was something Dark with a capital D. “Didn’t your father ever teach you to never trust anything that seemingly acts on its own accord if you can’t tell where it keeps its brain? Merlin, you’ve been in the library at Black Manor, Lucius! Half the books in there would happily kill you if not treated with caution.”

“It’s just a journal, Narcissa! It’s not like it contained the soul of our Lord. It was merely enchanted to respond like he would.” Lucius frowned when his memory caught up to him with something that Narcissa had mentioned. “And our Lord is not a half-blood.”

Narcissa laughed dangerously, “Really? Then where does his family originate from? Hmm? Why are there no records of his birth, schooling, or other family members? That fraud is quite literally a bastard, Lucius. Every time he utters that ridiculous phrase, ‘I am Lord Voldemort’ he’s telling you his real name. It took me all of about ten minutes when I first heard it to figure out that it’s an anagram that spells out ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle.’ (She demonstrated using fire writing leaving Lucius aghast at being duped.) “After that first hearing, I did a bit of research using Aunt Callidora’s infamous Black Book. Tom Marvolo Riddle was born to Merope Gaunt whose father was named Marvolo Gaunt, an inbred psychopath who was the Head of a barely hanging on by a genetic thread ‘family,’ and a muggle!”

Lucius’ face paled at hearing that. “I had no idea. He seemed so pure when we first met and all those times afterwards. His knowledge of the old ways suggested that he came from an old family. He’s even claimed to be the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin!”

Narcissa laughed contemptuously, “You think that means anything these days? After a thousand years, nearly half of the families that remain within this country could claim that lineage. I’m sure that even some of the muggleborns could claim it as well given how often they breed.”

“So what do we do?” He whispered in a near panic. “I have no idea where the journal is now. The last I saw it was in my pocket in Flourish and Blotts when I took Draco to get his books.”

Narcissa eyed him carefully, “Did you interact with anyone during this time?” His face pinched, cluing her to an idea as to who it might’ve been. “Who was it, Lucius?”

“Arthur Weasley and his feral brood.”

“Then you’d better hope that he hasn’t found it amongst their things and figured out how to use it,” she stated darkly. “In the meantime, you’re going to find out how many other pieces he created like the journal. When you do that and where they’re located, you are going to hire a team to go in and retrieve them for immediate destruction. You will not quibble over the costs of this venture; you will suffer the drain on your vault in silence.” She aimed her wand back down towards his crotch, “Do not for a moment think to try and get out of this, Lucius. I cannot live the rest of my life in fear, nor will I allow my son to be corrupted by his false promises of wealth and power.”

Lucius agreed rapidly, not wanting to incur her wrath for a moment longer. “Will you undo my restraints?”

Her eyes narrowed, “No. You will stay like this for now to think about your errors. I shall send Dobby to cut you free in a while if he reports back that you’ve come up with a viable solution.” With that said, she turned and stormed out of the room, flicking her wand and extinguishing the lights, plunging the room (and Lucius) into complete darkness.

Over at the Weasley home, the Burrow…

Ginny was having the time of her life tormenting this strange journal she’d discovered mixed in with her other school books. The journal’s personality was someone called ‘Tom Riddle’ and was clearly having a difficult time with her writing down some of her observations about her body’s changes, things she’d seen during her adventures outside or around the farm; Merlin, the journal’s pages seemed to actually turn a fascinating shade of green when she started to describe the time she got to help deliver the family goat’s kids in all its gross glory!

“Oh Tom! I’ve got exciting news to share!” She scribbled down on the pages.

‘Go away! I’m done dealing with you! Send me back to Lucius Malfoy!’

“No way! If Mr. Malfoy was stupid enough to drop you in my cauldron, the least I can do is to make both of you suffer. I may be only eleven, but even I know that if you have something valuable; you need to protect it. Now come on; let me describe what I learned.”

‘Is it anything like that birthing process you wrote about earlier?’

“Better.”

‘Dear Salazar, kill me now… Okay, I’ll bite. What did you learn?’

“Well, you know that factory over on…wait, where does Malfoy even live?”

‘Wiltshire, I believe.’

“Really? I thought he lived near the zoo up near Chester. Have you ever been to a zoo? I like the giraffes, they look so silly with their long necks and those two tufts above their heads. I heard that Mr. Malfoy has peacocks! Have you ever gotten to see a peacock before? I wonder what it would be like to…”

‘Ginny, weren’t you going to mention what you learned?’

“Oh right! Okay, have you ever been in a factory that processes cow stomachs to make tripe?”

Tom’s writing got a bit wiggly as if he was laughing. ‘Not recently, I haven’t but I can very well imagine. Did you like the way those animals were butchered? The sounds of their screams must’ve been exhilarating.’

“No, it’s not; don’t distract me. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I was going to tell you about the time I learned how to cast a Lumos charm without a wand! I was practicing with a random stick from the orchard. We have such delicious apples, you know. Ron ate nearly five in a row once! I saw it too. I was there when he bit into an apple that had a worm in it! He turned so green in the face! That reminds me about the time that Timmy Stevens, he’s a muggle from town and so dreamy! He’s twelve and knows how to drive his daddy’s tractor! Do you know what a tractor is, Tom? Anyways, he and I made mer-babies while kissing behind the birthing corral. The birthing corral has special powers that if your true love and yourself kissed behind it, you would make mer-babies. Then Luna and I were talking about how the color of green from her jumper looks just like Timmy’s eyes and how they make me feel so gushy inside! Did you know that Luna can belch the alphabet? I can only get up to the letter E before I have to stop but she can keep going all the way to the end.”

Ginny continued rambling on while Tom sighed within the pages of the journal, ‘Will no one save me from this meddlesome child?’

Ginny was called downstairs for dinner which gave Tom a break from her endless prattling (his words). She bounced into the dining room and greeted her family. Arthur gave her a kiss on the cheek and asked what she’d been up to all day as she sat down. “I’ve been writing to Tom and telling him all about everything. He’s so funny sometimes. I don’t think he likes what I’ve written though, his pages start turning colors whenever I bring up my girl problems.”

Arthur’s head snapped up in surprise, if not a bit of concern. “Who is this Tom? You said he writes back to you?”

Ginny bobbed her head happily, “Yeah, I write to him in that journal you got me when we were in Flourish and Blotts today.”

Arthur shared a worried glance with Molly before turning back to his daughter, “Ginny honey, I didn’t get you a journal. I don’t think that you should be writing to this Tom anymore. Who knows how old he is or what sort of person he’s like.”

Ginny pouted briefly, “But I like teasing him with all of what mum calls her ‘womanly time!’ It’s funny to get him to pretend to barf even though he’s just a book. (She waved him in closer to loudly whisper) I know what he is, Daddy. You taught me not to trust anything that can think for itself and I haven’t. I haven’t told him anything about me personally. Tom’s told me that he belongs to Mr. Malfoy so I thought I’d torment him before you took him away.”

Arthur’s face went stony as he fought to restrain his anger at the enchanted journal that Lucius must’ve slipped into his daughter’s possession. “Has Tom hinted at why Mr. Malfoy gave you the journal?”

Ginny shook her head, “No, I think it was by mistake. Tom keeps scribbling that when he gets back together with Mr. Malfoy ‘more than words will be thrown;’ whatever that means. Don’t take him away yet, Daddy. I’ve been writing him with all the sorts of ramblings that Ron says I’m good at.” Ron barely looked up at the sound of his name, so engrossed with the new Whitehall Charms textbook he’d gotten that day.

“Ginny, it’s not safe for you to be doing that,” Arthur pressed.

She put on the puppy-dog eyes knowing full well that he was powerless to deny her whenever she used them. “Please? I want to introduce him to Luna next. She’ll really unnerve Tom with all of her silly creature sightings.”

Arthur couldn’t help it; he let out an amused burp of laughter. He looked up to see Molly frowning mightily at what their child had revealed. “Well, I want to be there when you do. I want to see the look on Tom’s pages when she starts telling him about them. Is that okay with you, sweetie?”

Ginny bounced excitedly in her seat, “Thank you, Daddy! Oh, I can’t wait. Luna and her dad just got back from Sweden too!”

Monday 22 August, 2022; DMLE Director’s office

Arthur knocked on Director Amelia Bones’ office door and waited to be let in. As he opened the door, he spotted an old friend from the old Order of the Phoenix sitting inside. “Remus Lupin? I haven’t seen you in ages. What brings you by?”

Remus rose to his feet and shook hands with Arthur, “It has been too long indeed. I was just finishing up telling Director Bones here about a crazy elf named Dobby who spoke of his master plotting to ‘make most terrible things happen’ up at Hogwarts.”

Arthur looked surprised, “Did he say how this was supposed to happen? Do you know who the master was?”

Remus shook his head, “Dobby said that his master was in contact with the Dark Lord through an evil book. It was Sunny, Harry’s elf who told us that it was Lucius Malfoy.”

Arthur dropped the journal onto Amelia’s desk. “That elf wasn’t lying. I suspect that this is the book that Dobby was referring to; it’s practically dripping with Dark magic. My daughter said she found it amongst her things when we went shopping at Diagon Alley this past Friday. She started writing in it and found that it used to belong to someone named Tom Riddle. The journal has some unusual properties like being able to think for itself and was claiming to be the possession of Lucius Malfoy.”

Amelia’s jaw dropped open at hearing that. “Is your daughter alright?”

“Seems to be. She and the Lovegood girl apparently had a lot of fun teasing Tom with all sorts of things that would interest girls their age as well as describing ‘icky things’ designed to make any male gag with disgust.”

Remus and Amelia couldn’t help but smile at hearing that. She gestured down to the book, “What are you hoping will happen?”

“I was hoping that you could contact someone in the Department of Mysteries to ascertain if this journal is as Dark as I think it is, and if so, destroy it. We definitely don’t need this thing to be out in public where for all we know it’s capable of unleashing some sort of monster upon the populace. After that, I was hoping we could nail Malfoy’s hide to the Atrium’s wall for violations against the Decree for transporting Dangerous and Dark Objects.”

Agreeing with Arthur, Amelia pressed a button on her intercom. “Law Boss to Mystery Boss.”

A moment of silence before the intercom lit up. “Mystery Boss here.”

“I have Arthur Weasley up here in my office with what appears to be a Class Two Dark Object. I need you to come up to verify and if necessary, take point.”

“I’ll be up in a moment. Mystery out.”

Remus made his excuses to leave, citing the need to prepare for his next lesson for his students’ chemistry class. He shook both their hands and asked Amelia to keep him in the loop. “I don’t need to tell you that if Fate had its way, Harry would’ve been dragged in the middle of all this.”

When Director of the DoM, Algernon Croaker arrived, he scanned the journal and agreed with Amelia’s initial assessment. He turned to Arthur who stood there worried. “You said your daughter wrote in this?”

Arthur wiped his brow, “Yes, she did. She says she didn’t give out any personal information that it might’ve been able to use; only the sort of preteen girl ramblings that seemed to annoy it.”

Croaker smirked, “Ingenious of her. I’ll have to remember that trick. Still, I think it would be beneficial for her if you would take her into Saint Mungo’s to get a medical once-over just in case.” Arthur bobbed his head and sighed with relief then headed out of the office to go round up Ginny.

Amelia jutted her chin at the book, “Any idea what we’re dealing with here?”

Croaker sighed as he sat down in an empty chair. “Ever hear of something called a Horcrux?” She thought for a moment before shaking her head no. “I’m not surprised; it’s not something your rank and file Auror would normally come across. Simply put, this journal contains a part of Voldemort’s soul. There’s a whole necromantic ritual one must go through that involves the murder of an innocent. I won’t bore you with the gory details, but I think it’s time that my department gets off its arse to investigate his alleged immortality for all these years.”

Amelia’s eyes grew wide, “You-Know-Who’s still alive?”

Croaker waggled his hand, “It depends on your definition of ‘alive.’ With this method, his soul would be split in half so even if his physical body was destroyed, he or his followers could use this other half to resurrect him.”

“I sure hope that’s the only other part out there,” Amelia grumbled and pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off an impending headache.

Croaker got up and headed for the door. He paused to look back at her with solemn eyes, “I’ll let you know after we interrogate this one. Malfoy had better pray to whatever deity he believes in that more pieces, if they exist, don’t fall into the hands of children.”

Malfoy Manor, thirty minutes later…

Lucius entered the foyer just after Amelia and her team of Aurors had been escorted in by Dobby. “You can go, Dobby. Director Bones, what an unexpected…pleasure.”

Amelia’s face was stony, “Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest for possessing with the intent to distribute Class two Dark objects.” She began reading off his rights as one of the Aurors relieved him of his wand and checked him over for any other weapons then cuffed him with magic-suppressing shackles.

Surprisingly, Lucius seemed to slump with relief, “Thank Merlin…”

“Would you care to explain that?” Amelia sharply looked at him, confused by his seeming acceptance of being arrested.

Lucius gestured deeper into the mansion. “My wife has threatened me with disembowelment if I failed to seek out the objects that our Lord put into His followers’ care and safekeeping. That diary was one such object, though I suspect there might be others. With me in custody, I don’t have to sully myself with traipsing all over the world trying to locate these damnable things.”

Narcissa appeared a moment later, Dobby trailing at her heels. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easily, Lucius. Director Bones, if you’ll follow me; I have something to show you that might be helpful in prosecuting my idiot husband.”

Lucius’ eyes widened comically, “Don’t you dare! I forbid you to show her anything in this house without a warrant.”

Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest and glared imperiously at him. “Then you will go along with them, serve whatever time you must, then resume your search. I do not care if this hunt takes you until you are as old as Dumbledore; you will finish the task!”

Amelia and her Aurors’ heads flipped back and forth between the two arguing Malfoys like they were watching a tennis match. “What’s going on?”

Narcissa sniffed haughtily, “My idiot husband thought it would be a good idea to plot some ridiculous plan to reactivate an item from our unlamented half-blood Dark Lord. This item would have him acquire a human sacrifice to fuel his resurrection. When I learnt of this, I forbade him from going further only to discover that he lost said item to one of the Weasley children. His punishment is to search for each of these items keeping the Dark Lord from returning by any means necessary.”

One of the Aurors gasped, “You-Know-Who is a half-blood?”

Amelia raised her hand to stem any further questions, “We’ll deal with that later. Despite this new information provided by Narcissa Malfoy, I still have to take Lucius in for further questioning and processing. Depending on how things go afterwards, your husband may be taken in for further inquiries with Director Croaker of the Department of Mysteries to ascertain the full scope of what this search might entail.”

Narcissa dipped her chin, “I understand. I shall not be expecting him anytime soon then.” She spun on her heel and strode from the room.

Lucius let out a pained noise, “Could we swing by the Minister’s office first? I’m sure he’d be willing to help.”

Amelia’s grin was predatory, “Don’t bet on it.”

True to her prediction, the Minister was ‘unavailable’ to attend to Lucius’ request. He overheard a staffer commenting that Minister Fudge was staying as far away as possible on this case to avoid being tarred with the same brush. Once Lucius went through processing, he was stood before a judicial panel of five witches and wizards where he was given a guilty verdict and fined nearly thirty thousand Galleons to be paid in full by the time he left the Ministry. As he left Courtroom Nine, he discovered that his ‘adventure’ was far from over. Director Croaker was waiting for him flanked by two additional Unspeakables. The Director’s face seemed pleasant though there was an unholy glint in the man’s eyes. “Lucius Malfoy, how wonderful it is to see you. Come, we have a lot to talk about…”

Thursday 1 September, 2022; Hogwarts Express heading north

Ginny could barely keep herself from vibrating with excitement. She was finally going to Hogwarts! After all those years of listening to the stories her parents told her, and later the ones from her older brothers; it was time for Ginny Weasley to make her mark. Her gaze swung over to where her best friend sat and stared unfazed out the carriage’s window. “Are you excited to be going to Hogwarts, Luna?”

Luna’s elfin features creased slightly as a happy smile stole across her lips, “I am. I’m looking forward to meeting the Sorting Hat. He must be so lonely locked away in the Headmaster’s office all year with only Dumbledore to speak to.” She snuck a peek at Ginny’s bag, “I’m surprised that you managed to sneak Tom’s diary away from your parents.” The two girls had had a lot of fun torturing Tom with fantastical creatures that would stretch the limits of credibility even for the magical world.

Shaking her head in amusement, Ginny replied that she hadn’t. “Daddy took it away from me after you and I got done with it on Saturday. He said it was Dark magic the way it was able to think for itself.”

Luna cocked her head curiously, “Then which book do you have in there? I saw you writing in it.”

Ginny pulled out the book in question. The book was bound in rich mahogany-stained leather embossed with her name on the front cover. “It’s a regular journal that’s been charmed to respond to your writing just like those enchanted mirrors that talk back to you about your appearance. Daddy bought it special for me because I was a smart girl who alerted him the first chance I got.”

Luna gave her a queer look, “Weren’t you the one who’d been writing in that Dark diary to begin with? If you were really that smart, you should’ve given it to your dad from the first time Tom wrote back to you.”

Ginny blushed, “Yeah, I guess but when else would I get the opportunity to tease a boy who isn’t related to me relentlessly and not get shoved out of their room or told to go play outside and quit bothering them? That’s the problem with growing up as the youngest in such a large family.”

Luna hummed as she idly twirled a strand of hair, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to have siblings.”

“You can take your pick of my brothers if you’re that curious. I hear that Ron’s asking price is unsurprisingly affordable,” Ginny laughed as she kicked her feet up onto the bench.

In another compartment…

Ron was busy playing chess against Neville who was clearly not having as much fun given how few pieces he still had on the board. The game finally ended much to Neville’s relief so he pulled out his favorite gardening magazine and relaxed into the seat. “Who do you suppose Hogwarts will get to teach Defense this year?” He heard Ron ask him as the redhead put away the board and chess pieces.

“No idea, but hopefully they’ll be better than Quirrell. That heavy garlic use and that stutter used to haunt my nightmares.” Neville replied. “You hear what’s going to happen up at the school this year?”

Ron nodded thoughtfully, “That triathlon thing? Yeah, Dad mentioned it. I hope they’ll have something for everyone to do. I heard from my dad who heard it from Bagman that Dumbledore had originally wanted to restart the Tri-Wizard Tournament but couldn’t get permission to include the other two schools for who knows what reason.” He dropped the chess case into his trunk and pulled out his new Potions textbook then settled on his side of the compartment.

Neville watched him in the corner of his eye. “It still amazes me that you’re no longer that whiny student we’d all come to loath.”

Ron’s eyes flicked across the page, half of his attention was drawn to the new information. “How do you figure?”

“You used to hate reading anything other than Quidditch magazines or those Martin Miggs comics. Nowadays, your first instinct is to pull out a textbook.”

Ron’s ear tips pinked with embarrassment, “I can still be whiny if you miss it that much.”

The door sliding open caused them to turn. Neville looked a little annoyed that it was Draco flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. “What do you need, Draco?”

Draco snuck a peek inside, “Just hoping that things had changed back to the way it was before the muggleborns left.”

Ron snickered, “You miss losing points to Granger that much, eh?”

Draco put on an affronted sneer, “As if. I’m much too good for the likes of her. Would you believe me if I said that I miss having Potter around?” Neville replied no as he shifted to let the blond boy sit down next to him. Vince and Greg took the spots next to Ron. “So what’s your opinion about what’s happening up at the school this year?”

Ron shrugged, “I heard it from a couple of sources that there’ll be a Quidditch tournament to end all Quidditch tournaments. Why? What did you hear?”

Draco propped up a foot on the opposite bench, “That’s pretty close to what I heard from my father before he left for his mysterious sudden meeting with some important people. The four Houses will compete against each other like normal and whoever is the top team at the end of the year will get to face off against a professional club. I heard that it’s supposed to be Wimbourne.”

“Makes sense since that was Bagman’s former team,” Neville observed. “I’m worried about the rest of that triathlon thing though. Who knows what lunacy Dumbledore’s got in mind for that? Gran hinted that whoever gets chosen might have to face a dragon.”

Draco grinned and winked, “You face off against me all the time and you’ve not done too badly.” He laughingly fended off thrown sweets wrappers and wadded up paper balls as the other two boys groaned at the joke. He shot Ron a curious look. “So who are you and what have you done with Ron ‘I hate learning’ Weasley?”

Ron scowled at the grinning boy, “Shove off, Malfoy. Don’t you have firsties that are in need of hassling?”

Draco shrugged unconcernedly, “Without the muggleborns here, it doesn’t seem as important. All the new kids on the train are magically-raised.”

A smirk ghosted Neville’s face, “I figured it out. You’re hiding from Pansy, aren’t you? From what I’ve heard, she’s been chasing you in hopes that you’ll ask your father to sign a betrothal agreement.”

Draco’s features twisted into one of annoyance. “She’s obsessing about how we’re supposed to be ‘star-crossed lovers’ or some such rot! All I said to her that one time was that her dress looked pretty. Next thing I know, she’s running around picking out flower arrangements and humming the Wedding March every time she’s near me.”

Ron cracked up laughing, “Pansy sounds like she’s been channeling my mum. My mum is a master at taking things out of context and making a bigger deal out of nothing.”

Draco slumped back against his seat and grumbled to himself. Vince and Greg shook their heads; Vince commented that he was glad that he didn’t have to worry about girls acting all crazy over him. Neville looked at him curiously, “Do your parents believe in arranged marriages?”

Vince shook his head, “No, but they also acknowledge that I’m way too young to be even looking at girls like that. Mum’s said that I ought to be focusing on my studies until I’m at least fifteen then we’ll talk.”

Same time, Whitehall Academy Reception Room

Entering the expansive room, Harry spotted Hermione and her friends crossing the hall. Trotting over, he gave Hermione a welcome hug. “How was your summer?” He asked her after greeting each girl in turn.

Her eyes twinkled, “Let me answer that with my own question. How did you react the first time you were stopped on the street to autograph a picture of yourself?”

He chuckled at the memory that rose up. “That good, eh?”

She sighed dreamily, “It was incredible. Mum and I were walking through Westfield London near the Sephora when this little girl approached us and asked me to sign her Potter Threads catalog. I even posed for a selfie with her.”

Harry grinned, “So? How does it feel to be a recognized supermodel?”

“Amazing,” Hermione blushed.

Lavender appeared a moment later, a hurt look on her face. “Harry, and you…”

Hermione’s face grew perplexed, “Lav? What did I do?”

Lavender’s hurt expression turned slightly mischievous. “You were supposed to give me the first hug of the new school year yet here I find you hugging a boy!” Harry cracked up laughing at the nonplussed look on Hermione’s face as Lavender drew her best friend in for that aforementioned hug, “There! All better.” She draped a free arm over Harry’s shoulder as she led the group up the stairs. “So what’s new, Hunky Harry?” Harry kept snickering at Lavender’s over-the-top performance.

Hermione hung her head and let out a low moan, “Why must you always be so dramatic, Buster Brown? I swear, if this magic thing doesn’t work for you, maybe your parents could sign you up for the circus.”

Harry thumbed in Hermione’s direction, “Did she tell you about the autograph session she had?”

Lavender turned wide eyes towards her bushy-haired friend, “No! Spill girl, details! I need details.”

Hermione puffed up proudly as she recounted the moment again. “Daddy suggested I consider getting a modeling contract if I’m going to keep getting recognized.” Lavender turned to Harry with a silent question about what that might mean.

Harry shrugged indifferently. “If she does that, her parents would need to speak with Aunt Petunia. She’s the one who handles the business side of Potter Threads. I’d still hire you, contract or no contract because you’re fun to work with, Hermione.”

“Aww!” All the girls chimed in at the sweet moment.

The group entered their first class for the day and took their seats. Lavender turned around briefly, “So what do you think is going to happen this year? Last year was special because of the Great Muggleborn and Raised Exodus. I can’t imagine that our lives will get any more interesting than that.”

Harry let out a low groan, “Lavender! Don’t tempt Fate like that. Now something has to happen!”

Hogwarts Elf Common Room, morning before the Hogwarts Express left King’s Cross

All eyes swung over to take in Sunny’s arrival, several of them gasped at seeing the elf wearing clothes! Whispers broke out as she crossed the room on her way to drop her things off so she could start her shift up in Gryffindor Tower. Head Elf Bippy intercepted her and pointed to the outfit, “When were you banished?”

Sunny laughed lightly, “Never. You remember how I sometimes do work for Harry Potter?” Bippy’s eyes narrowed then he nodded when he remembered. “Well, one of the items in my contract with him is that I get to pick out the clothes I want to wear. Master Harry doesn’t like to see me wearing an ordinary tea towel and has said many times that if I want to wear something he’s making, to feel free to alter the garment to fit me.” She stepped back to show off the cargo trousers in burnt orange with its many, many pockets (some of which had space-expansion charms woven into them.) She also wore a yellow T-shirt bearing a silly happy face on the front with the message that read, ‘Smile, it confuses people.’ A pair of purple socks and glitter-covered trainers on her feet finished off the look that suggested Sunny was ready for anything the job threw at her.

Bippy looked surprised at Harry’s generosity. “This will take time to get used to. You must feel lucky to have such a thoughtful Master, even if he is part-time.” He waved her on to whatever she’d been prepping for. As she walked away, he began to think about a possible change to the elf uniform they were required to wear. Bippy knew that he’d have to speak with Professor Sprout before too long.

Sorting Ceremony, Hogwarts

The Hat was placed upon Luna’s head after her name was called by Professor McGonagall. “Hello, Miss Lovegood. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of sorting a member of your family.”

“Hello Hat. I was hoping that sometime in the coming weeks that you and I could share a conversation. I’d imagine that it must be awfully lonely for you to be cooped up in the Headmaster’s office with only him to talk to,” Luna cheerfully greeted the ancient article of headwear.

“I would certainly be agreeable to that, Miss Lovegood. I remember when your mother and I held long debates on various topics over the course of her education. Now, where should I sort you? You have the sort of mind that Rowena would’ve wept in joy to have grace her Tower yet at the same time, you have the daring spirit of someone brave enough to go exploring for the ‘next great thing.’ Godric would’ve loved to include you with his Lions.”

“I suppose those would work. I can’t see myself joining Slytherin given their current Wrackspurt infestation,” Luna surmised thoughtfully.

Ignoring the Wrackspurt comment, the Hat pressed on. “What about Hufflepuff? They excel at just about everything, you know. They just don’t make a huge scene about their achievements. Helga had an incredible tenacity to ignore her detractors that you seem to have in spades.”

“I’ll admit to having not considered Hufflepuff before. On the plus side, the kitchens are close that I’d be able to visit with the elves and to get myself a nice snack during study time. They’re also closer to where most of the classes tend to be anyways. Hmmm…quite the conundrum.”

To the rest of the Hall, curiosity started mounting as the clock ticked closer to Luna becoming a Hatstall. Finally, the brim of the Hat opened as it bellowed, “Better be…Hufflepuff!”

Ginny’s turn…

As she stepped up to the stool, one of the twins yelled out, “Hey Hat, she’s a Weasley! You know where to send her.” The room erupted into fits of laughter.

Ginny glared at her grinning idiot twin brothers, “Just for that, I ought to get sorted into Slytherin then tell mum it was your fault!” She jammed the Hat onto her head.

“Ho! I heard what you said and I agree; that would be fitting! Well, Miss Weasley; you certainly match the description of a brave Gryffindor. Not many people around here would willingly tangle with those many call the ‘Devil’s Dream Team.’ You’d also do well with Slytherin given your ability to achieve some recognition within your large family.”

“Ha! They wish they were as clever as they think they are. Fred and George aren’t so special when you take away their pranks,” she growled and crossed her arms over her chest.

“True, even geniuses such as they do have their limits but enough about them. Let’s discuss you, my dear. I feel that even though you showed a great deal of bravery, I don’t think that Gryffindor or Ravenclaw is the right choice for you. You clearly enjoy learning as much as you can which would put you in good standing with Ravenclaw, yet at the same time, you enjoy getting out there to make new friends. You’re tough as nails with a bull-headed tendency much like any self-respecting Gryffindor to not back down even when the odds are stacked against you.”

Ginny’s eyes lit up, “Ooh, you could sort me into Hufflepuff! I could be with Luna, she’s my best friend. I also met a couple of really nice people on the train. One is a boy whose parents work with animals, both muggle and magical.” Her face fell a split second later. “I’m just worried that my mum would throw a fit when she finds out that I didn’t follow the Weasley tradition of becoming Gryffindors.”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with you potentially becoming a Hufflepuff. If I remember your mother correctly, Molly Prewett had some rather strong opinions about anyone joining Slytherin.”

The rest of the Weasley brood waited anxiously for the Hat’s judgment. Ron nervously tapped his wand against the table, sparking a flare and setting the serviettes on fire which Percy casually extinguished with a bemused huff. Finally, the Hat bellowed out, “Better be…Slytherin!”

“WHAT?!” All four Weasley males leapt to their feet and yelled out in shock and anger.

Before Minerva could pluck the Hat off of Ginny’s head, the snarky headwear burst out laughing, “GOT YOU! It’s official, I the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts, have pranked the Weasleys! Ha! No, for the record Miss Weasley will become a Hufflepuff. Oh, this is a joyous day when the tables are turned and it’s the Weasleys who get pranked.” He bounced around on Ginny’s head in a quasi-jig before being removed by the Deputy Headmistress so the blushing girl could rush off to join Luna at their new House table.

Albus gave his little welcome speech to the incoming students then issued the command to the elves below to start serving the food. He sat down and began assembling his dinner and balefully glared at Minerva who stoutly ignored him. “I still don’t approve of your decision to assign those Whitehall textbooks for the students, nor do I approve of your restrictions for our newest Defense professor.”

Minerva continued to eat quietly for a moment longer, enough to make his blood boil at her seeming insubordination. “I have made myself quite clear on this, Albus. The new textbooks are vastly superior to anything we used to use, and Mr. Lockhart isn’t under any restrictions to his curriculum. I have merely suggested that should he need to draw his wand to make sure there’s no one in danger of being hit by a stray spell. You and I both remember what he was like as a student. Even carefully aiming at his target, he’ll still miss and end up harming an innocent bystander.”

Albus harrumphed at her explanation. “I still don’t like it.”

Deciding to change the subject, she asked him what the status was regarding the upcoming triathlon. Albus smiled thinly, “Everything is in place and ready to go. I still haven’t decided who else to invite to witness our great endeavor. I’ve been toying with the idea to invite the muggleborns who erroneously left Hogwarts to attend that second-rate school so they might realize that Hogwarts is still the best place for their education and decide to return.”

Minerva frowned, “You would have to contact their Headmistress. Based on their reaction to Mr. Malfoy’s ill-timed Howler prank, they might not be as receptive as you would hope.”

After dinner, Albus rose once again to deliver the yearly announcements. “Well now that we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a brand-new event: The Hogwarts Triathlon. The Triathlon brings together the Four Hogwarts Houses for a series of magical contests. From each House a single student is selected to compete. Now let me be clear; if chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say, these contest are not for the faint-hearted. These tasks are designed to test you in every way imaginable. You will need to not only keep your wits, but face potential life-threatening danger around every corner. The winner of the Triathlon will receive the Triathlon Cup and a thousand Galleons plus your picture in both the Daily Prophet as well as any foreign publications.” As he spoke, Argus Filch rolled in a cart bearing a cloth-covered object up to the podium. “In addition to the three main tasks, the four House Quidditch teams will face off against each other in an accelerated season to prove which team is the best to represent Hogwarts when the winner faces off against a professional team, the identity of which will be announced later.” That announcement caught the attention of all of the Quidditch-obsessed fans, including Minerva whose face lit up with intrigue. “As a final note, this December; the school will host a Yule Ball which will be open for anyone who wishes to attend.”

He surveyed the awed expressions on most of the students’ faces and smiled in his ‘grandfatherly’ style. “Now in order to make sure the selection is fair, we will be using an impartial judge to determine your suitability to represent your respective House. (He reached over to the cart and whipped off the cover revealing a rough-hewn primitive-looking oversized goblet) The Goblet of Fire! The Goblet will be ignited two days before the Selection Ceremony. Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Sunday night of October 30th. Do not do so lightly! If chosen, there's no turning back...”

Once the students had been dismissed, the prevailing gossip was primarily about the upcoming triathlon and who might be picked. Most of those who boasted as being the likely candidate for their House were resoundingly ignored by the more level-headed amongst them. Up in the Gryffindor Common room, Fred shared a glance with his twin. “What do you say, Georgie? Fancy a turn with this Triathlon thing?”

George snorted derisively, “At first glance, sure it seems to be a worthy venture. But then I realized that this is yet another convoluted scheme by our illustrious headmaster to save face after what happened last year that cost him half of the school’s normal population.”

Fellow Quidditch team mate, Angelina Johnson slid onto Fred’s lap and stared at George curiously, “I’m impressed. I would’ve thought that the pair of you would jump at the chance to make a mockery of this event.”

Fred wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, “Angie, please. Who do you take us for, a couple of jokers? Besides, we’ve picked up some troubling news from sources within the Ministry that the creature that Dumbledore decided is worthy of Hogwarts is a puffskein. Hardly inspiring, you know and it makes a mockery of the event on its own.”

Alicia took her spot on George’s lap and sighed happily when he kissed her on the lips. “Additionally, the Quidditch tournament we heard that Bagman’s setting up is more in-line to someone of our particular talents. Imagine getting to play against a professional team? I’m sure Oliver’s already running himself ragged up in his room formulating new strategies for us to start learning.”

Whitehall Academy, Headmistress Marchbanks’ office; the next day

Olivia read through the invitation letter that Albus had sent her. Then she read it again. “What the…” She called for her Deputy to her office and handed him the letter when he arrived.

Robert’s frown was offset by the laughter that bubbled up. “Wow, condescending much? He thinks rather highly of himself, doesn’t he?”

Olivia’s huff indicated what she was diplomatically not saying. “You think we ought to go to this triathlon thing he’s putting on? I’m worried that the children who do go will be swayed by his honeyed words and the farce he’ll be putting on.”

Robert shook his head, “I don’t think that’ll happen. Even the older students who transferred last year are too smart to fall for such a blatant attempt to get them to return to the school that made their educations such a miserable time.”

She pointed out that they wouldn’t even have the option to stay in a hotel nearby. “More than that, I don’t even know how we’d be able to send a modest group of students up to that castle school to begin with.”

Robert looked at her curiously, “Wouldn’t we just request our elves to assist in setting something up? I doubt they’d have any issue with it.”

Olivia thought about that, grimacing slightly. “I’d hate to pressure them into doing something like that, moving all that equipment and supplies to the north end of the island. Sparkle!”

Whitehall’s Head Elf Sparkle appeared, “Yes, Headmistress?”

“How difficult would it be to spare a few elves to take a group of students and staff plus provisions up to Hogwarts?”

Sparkle was unfazed by the request. “How many and how long were you planning on staying?”

Robert chuckled at the surprised look on his boss’ face. “I told you.” He laughed all that much harder when she maturely stuck her tongue out at him.

“What do we have on-hand that would allow say a group of thirty to spend time up there for at least a week?” She asked the elf.

Sparkle pulled a notebook out of her pocket and flipped it open. “I can get you two magical tents, one for boys and girls; the other for the staff and supplies. We can rearrange things if you want to separate them by gender instead. Transportation for something this size is not an issue. I can have more than enough elves to take the group as needed.”

“Won’t that stress your magic by moving such a large group?” Olivia wanted to know.

Sparkle shook her head, “Not in the least. I have a dedicated team of elves who specialize in logistics and supply.”

“Okay, wait a moment.” Olivia rose to her feet to cross the room to where she kept several artifacts and pulled a curious-looking stone bowl the size of a mortar for grinding ingredients from the shelf. Placing it down on her desk, she activated the device with a tap of her wand. Greenish flames erupted from the bowl’s interior. She stuck her wand in and called out, “Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office!”

Albus’ office, mere seconds later…

Albus glanced up at the sound of his floo activating. “Hello?”

Olivia’s voice called out to him, “Headmaster Dumbledore?”

Albus moved over to the fireplace and knelt down, “Yes, that’s me. Is this Headmistress Marchbanks? Why can’t I see you? Do you not know how to operate a floo call?”

“I’m using a device that connects to the Network but doesn’t allow visual communication. I would like to speak with you about the offer you made regarding my students attending this triathlon you’re proposing.”

Albus smiled even though she couldn’t see him. “Ah, that’s splendid! How many of your students were planning on attending? Do you have a list of names yet? Our school is looking forward to seeing you join us for the Champion Selection Ceremony this Halloween.”

“Before I answer that, I need to clarify something. Will you be providing housing for the visitors or will we have to furnish our own? If we do attend, we’ll need provisions for a group of at least twenty.”

Albus’ frowned at hearing that, he was hoping that all the muggleborns would be returning to Hogwarts where they belonged. “Twenty, you say? I think we can easily accommodate that many people.” He chuckled at that. “I daresay that this castle could hold your entire school’s population with room to spare.”

“I’m sure you could. Nevertheless, I believe only twenty people will probably want to attend for the event; after all, it’s not like they would be required to stay for the entire year. As I understand this thing, the triathlon will take place over the course of about three days, correct?”

Albus cleared his throat a touch uncomfortably, “I’m sorry my dear, but I think you were misinformed. The Hogwarts Triathlon will indeed take place over the course of the entire school year. This is done to provide the Champions plenty of time to train and prepare for the Tasks without needing to overload them at once. Additionally, the school will be hosting a Yule Ball for everyone to enjoy.”

Olivia’s voice seemed to match her disappointment. “Well, that changes things. I’m afraid that Whitehall will not be able to attend if they’re required to stay up there for an entire year. Many of our students have critical projects and assignments that need constant attention which would hurt their chances to be hired by prestigious companies around the world if left to fail just because they wanted to see a former school put on a simple sporting event.”

The dig at Hogwarts and the Triathlon were patently obvious, one that Albus let pass in order to get what he wanted. “I’m sure that we can provide reusable portkeys if transportation is that much of an issue.”

Olivia’s voice seemed to indicate she was smiling. “Wonderful. If anything changes between now and then, I’m sure we’ll contact you. Goodbye, Headmaster.” The connection was cut leaving Albus to ponder over the new details.

Olivia turned back to her Deputy and Head Elf. “I think we’ll use your assistance, Sparkle. I’d hate to think of what their portkeys would be like. I wouldn’t put it past that old goat to filter out the adults and prevent the students from trying to return home.”

“And by suggesting that we’d need his help when in fact we don’t, it’ll just make his life harder trying to pull a fast one on us,” surmised Robert. “I also noticed that you told him to expect twenty to show up when you’re really sending thirty.”

“Exactly. I gave him a low number on purpose for my own amusement to see him scramble. Sparkle, you have my permission to get ready. Plan on taking thirty students and ten staff plus the provisions you mentioned up to Hogwarts. I don’t expect us to stay up in Scotland the entire year, but better safe than sorry. I also want to include a set of emergency portals just in case this whole thing blows up in our face.” Sparkle curtsied then popped out.

Later that afternoon in a special assembly, Olivia addressed her school about the offer to attend the Hogwarts Triathlon. “Attendance is not mandatory so don’t feel pressure to sign your name. If you do sign, you will also need to get your parents’ or guardians’ to sign the permission slip the staff will be handing out afterwards. Once that is done, you will be provided a packing list to take home with you. I should point out that this event also carries with it an opportunity to attend a Yule Ball so formal wear would be required. If you cannot afford formal wear, please contact Sparkle who will get you outfitted with something appropriate. We will be assembling here at Whitehall on the morning of Halloween to be elf transported up to Hogwarts where we will stay for the Champion Selection as well as dinner. These permission slips are good for each day that the tasks are presented as well as the option of attending the Yule Ball. In between those events, school will resume as normal.”

She moved on down the list, “There will be some prerequisites before you can even consider attending. First and foremost, if you have a project that requires your attention; please do not sign your name. Your education is more important than watching a school’s sporting event. Second, you must have an Exceeds Expectation average. However, if you’re within a couple of points of this mark, permission might still be given depending on how heavy your workload has been. Third, you may not participate if you have any disciplinary marks or pending detentions as that wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.”

Presentation over with, she released everyone to go back to their normal schedules.

Hermione leant over Harry to whisper to Lavender, “Are you going to go back up to Hogwarts?”

Lavender shrugged, “Not sure to be honest. I didn’t really feel the love up while I was there last time.”

“What about you and Parvati Patil?” Harry interjected. “I got the impression that you were friends.”

Lavender waggled her hand, “We were friendly, but over the summer I got the feeling that something broke between us. I invited her to visit with me for a weekend, but she declined with what sounded like a weak excuse that her parents didn’t want her to ‘muddy up her future’.”

Both Harry and Hermione scowled at hearing that. “That’s terrible!” Hermione complained. “What about you, Harry? Are you thinking of going?”

Harry scoffed, “Yeah, right. Me returning to the castle to be within arm’s reach of the man who slapped me across the face because I wasn’t following his script? I wouldn’t go back there even if my life depended on it. Are you?”

She shook her head, “No, this whole thing seems a bit suspicious. This tournament or whatever it is just happens to come up after you led the charge for the muggleborn and raised kids to get educated at a real school? I’ll just stay here with you so you can continue to make beautiful clothes for me, my hero.” She sent dreamy air-kisses his direction.

Lavender started wheezing with laughter at the mock-affronted look Harry was giving Hermione.

Monday 31^st October, 2022; Hogwarts Main Courtyard

All of Hogwarts was on-hand and lined up to greet their incoming guests for the Champion Selection Ceremony. Dignitaries from other countries, the Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, Director Bones plus a team of her best Aurors, even a couple of Unspeakables were supposed to show soon. On top of that, and frankly more impressive to a lot of the students was the impending arrival of Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Speculation was rampant about who’d be returning; especially the rumors that Harry Potter refused on the grounds that he had a fashion show to do and couldn’t spare the time.

Pansy leant over to Daphne, “Who wants to bet that when Dumbledore finds out that Potter’s not amongst those from Whitehall, he goes ballistic and throws a tantrum?” The other girls giggled.

Daphne shook her head and replied, “No bet. That’s a foregone conclusion.”

The pseudo-motion from an incoming portkey was spotted as Minister Fudge and his entourage appeared. Albus strode forward importantly to shake the man’s hand. “I’m glad you could make it, Cornelius.”

Fudge returned the handshake and glanced around, “Are we the first to arrive?”

Albus smiled pleasantly, “No, the reporters for the German newspaper Das magische Tagebuch arrived not two minutes ago. They’re getting set up in an antechamber now, I believe.“

“Fine, fine. This plan of yours had better work, Albus.” He took a spot somewhat close to Albus’ side so he could greet the others in turn.

The next to arrive was Amelia and her team. They greeted Albus and the Minister briefly then took up their positions around the courtyard as well as inside the castle (much to Albus’ annoyance.) After that were two reporters from the Magical Boston Herald then a mass grouping of foreign dignitaries from France, Brazil, the United States, Ireland, and Germany.

A sharp staccato cracking noise caused all to turn as the contingent from Whitehall arrived via elf transport. Once the students regained their bearings, the elves vanished with their supplies to be set up elsewhere. Olivia Marchbanks greeted Albus as he stepped over, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Headmaster. I hope this triathlon lives up to its hype. It’s all anyone’s been talking about for the past month.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Headmistress. Welcome back to Hogwarts everyone. If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you all into our Great Hall where we have an evening meal prepared and they can rejoin their former Houses to be with their friends.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be proper, Headmaster. These children are no longer Hogwarts students and it wouldn’t be right for them to take up space at the House tables. I’m sure you can agree with that.”

Annoyed at being caught in his attempt to influence the children, Albus smiled calculatingly as the Whitehall muggleborns passed by him. His gaze bounced from face to face, but no matter how hard he searched, it became quite clear that Harry Potter was not amongst the group.

Great Hall

Dean observed the differences in everyone’s faces from his position at the Guest table. Truth be told, Hogwarts looked like it hadn’t changed much even with the removal of the muggleborns. “It’s like we were never here.”

Justin bobbed his head in agreement, “I think you’re right.” He noticed a new professor sitting up at the Teacher’s table, “Hey, who’s the new teacher?” All heads turned curiously to see the woman sitting in the traditional spot for the History teacher.

Seamus slicked back his hair and sent her a suave smile (it looked more like he was suffering from constipation in Dean’s opinion), “Dunno, but she’s cute. I wonder if I could persuade her to join us with my roguish Irish charm.”

Oliver Rivers nearly choked on his pumpkin juice hearing that, “Mate, do us all a favor and rein in your hormones. You’re way too young for her anyways.”

A shadow fell upon them causing the boys to look up to see a smiling pair of identical redheaded twins. “Ah, our wayward lambs have returned. We noticed that you’ve discovered the newest addition to our lovely Hogwartian staff. Her name is Professor Emily Hall and she teaches History of Magic.”

Oliver cocked his head curiously, “What happened to Binns?”

George squeezed in between Oliver and Terry Boot. He draped an arm over Oliver’s shoulder and stage-whispered conspiratorially, “Oh he’s still haunting his old classroom. McGonagall finally got tired of Dumbledore’s reluctance to bring in a bit of fresh air to the position and hired her. She really knows her history too.”

Fred coughed his laughter, “Not surprising considering she lived through it. You see, kiddies; Professor Hall is a vampire. As far as she’s hinted, this coming November 12^th will be her seven hundredth birthday.”

Mandy Brocklehurst whistled appreciatively, “We learned about vampires in our Defense class. They’ve changed a lot in the past hundred years.” Curious looks from the twins prompted her to continue. “Well, according to the books and from a guest speaker last month, they’re no longer interesting in forming covens for the purpose of enslaving or culling people for rituals or feeding. They also don’t drink the blood from just anyone either. Remember Alfonso? (The other muggleborns bobbed their heads in agreement.) He said that the only reason why vampires of old even went near the stuff was because of the iron minerals they need to live. Thanks to modern supplements, no vampire needs to run the risk of catching some disease from a so-called ‘dirty human’.”

Lisa Turpin added that according to Alfonso many vampires have jobs working in the medical field as field technicians, blood bank operators, nurses, and even doctors.

Justin tapped the chin of the closest twin to shut their openly awed mouths. Both twins blinked owlishly for a moment, “You get guest speakers at Whitehall?” Heads bobbed affirmatively. Fred looked rather put out, “Any chance your school could relax the rules on who’s allowed to attend? I know I’d love the chance to meet people who actually work in the subjects I’m interested in.”

Fay Dunbar poked him on the arm, “Aren’t you and your brother just into pranking people?”

Fred smiled ruefully, “We do come across like that, don’t we? Truth be told, there’s a lot of research and testing that goes into creating our pranks. Some of our attempts have failed for one reason or another and we sometimes can’t figure out why. If we had someone come in to have a chat about…let’s say, Charms and how they apply to timers so your prank goes off at a certain moment; our craft would be that much more effective. Instead we have to muddle through on our own, sometimes with outdated or missing information.”

Everyone whirled around towards the Teacher’s table when Albus’ fork started screaming bloody murder. The Twins started chuckling at the ‘innocent’ look that Professor Hall was giving Albus when he turned to glare at her. “It’s also a pleasure to inform you all that Professor Hall’s also a veteran prankster herself.”

Justin perked up, “Yeah? What else has she done?”

George ticked off his fingers as he began listing all of the verifiable pranks she owned up to. “Well, just since the start of the school year Professor Hall’s charmed all of the doorknobs on the route from his office to the Great Hall to only stick to his hands preventing him from letting go. The only way to release it is by having Mr. Filch grease his hand with something that smells absolutely rank.”

Fred picked it up next, “Then there was the time she coordinated with the elves to move his apartment to a dank room down in the dungeons complete with a window that would ordinarily show what his normal view would be so when he woke up, he’d think everything was normal until he stepped outside.”

The second years were giggling by now. Fay questioned Fred, “Has she ever tried to compel him to dance to something funny?”

Fred snickered, “Yes, somehow and no one is quite sure how she managed to do it; whenever he hears the ringing of a bell, he started to dance the moves to various songs. Two weeks ago it was the moves to the Macarena, and last Wednesday it was the Hokey Pokey.”

Lisa Turpin wiped her eyes from laughing so hard, “It’s a shame that Harry and Hermione aren’t here. I bet they’d be rolling on the floor laughing so hard.”

Fred leant forward, “Yeah, we heard rumors that Harry wasn’t coming but no one knows the real reason.” He and George noticed that everyone had sobered quickly. “What’s wrong?”

Dean finished drinking from his goblet, “Harry has stated for the record that the only way he’ll step foot in Hogwarts again is to dance on Dumbledore’s grave. I can understand why, especially after that Halloween last year when Dumbledore slapped Harry and screamed in his face. No one should have to put up with the old man’s madness.”

Champion Selection Ceremony…

Everyone turned to look up at the podium when Dumbledore announced that the Goblet was ready to make its selections. “Sit down, please. Now the moment you've all been waiting for: The Champion Selection! I must remind those chosen that after their names are called, you will proceed to the side chamber to my right.” He dimmed the fires around the Great Hall before stepping up to the Goblet. The blue flame of the Goblet turned red as a scrap of parchment shot out and fluttered down. “The Slytherin Champion is Cassius Warrington!” Cheers erupted from their side of the Hall as Cassius stood to be recognized then made his way into the side chamber to await further instructions. The fire turned red once more as the Goblet spat out another name and House. “The Champion for Ravenclaw is…Marcus Belby!” More cheers rang out as another slip shot out of the Goblet. “The Champion for Hufflepuff is Cedric Diggory!” The remaining Puffs cheered and applauded as Cedric stood up to join the others. A fourth slip shot up into the air. “The Gryffindor Champion is Percy Weasley!” The other Weasleys’ jaws practically scraped the ground when they heard that.

Ron shared a bewildered look with the twins. “Percy is a Champion? Mr. Rules and Regulations, only boring things are my life’s passion is representing Gryffindor?”

“I know, right? Who’d have thought he had even a smidgen of adventure in his blood.”

Albus raised his hands joyously, “Excellent! We now have our four Champions. But in the end, only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory, the Hogwarts Triathlon Cup!” He removed the disillusionment spell on the ornate silver and crystal Cup that shone and glittered with its own internal light as the students cheered, oohing and ahhing at its appearance then applauded.

The Goblet wasn’t done yet. It trembled and rocked around on its plinth, as if fighting to prevent yet another name from being read off before it finally relented and shot off a fifth slip of paper.

Albus snagged it out of the air and read the name. Outwardly, he gave the appearance of being confused as to how this name could’ve been entered. Inwardly, he was crowing at the fact that his plans were coming together as he’d foreseen and worked so hard to accomplish. “Harry Potter?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: A Stitch Overlooked (Addressing the Basilisk in the Room)

Still Monday 31 October, 2022; during the Halloween Feast up at the Teacher’s Table

While everyone was partaking in the Feast, Olivia practically felt the gaze of several of the other teachers. Some were evaluating, some were calculating; the rest were merely curious. Pomona tapped her on the shoulder, “I’m curious about something. Why bother accepting the invitation to attend after what Hogwarts put you through with that Howler?”

Olivia chuckled, “You’re worried about a single Howler?” She shifted in her chair to face the other woman. “I don’t know how things are done here, but the wards surrounding Whitehall are designed to automatically disable anything harmful, that includes the ear-piercing volume from a Howler. The most damage the letter caused was to a rubbish bin which was quickly extinguished.”

Astronomy professor Aurora Sinastra glanced over at Minerva, “Why did we never think to set up the castle wards like that? It would’ve made Molly Weasley’s Howlers at least bearable.”

Minerva huffed, “I’ve tried on a number of times to do that very thing, but you-know-who (she jabbed her thumb in Albus’ direction) keeps overriding me if not actually resetting them back to normal because he thinks it’s just harmless fun.” She waved to Olivia, “Please continue, Headmistress.”

Olivia went on to explain that they didn’t really see much of an issue with the exchange of Howlers. “Honestly, this sort of rivalry is common even amongst the muggles though they don’t have the sorts of things, like Howlers, that they can show their respective school spirit with. Personally, I think it was a simple case of underestimating your adversary and an important life lesson that just because we don’t normally retaliate, doesn’t mean we can’t.”

Filius had joined them by then and asked her, “Why do you consider us to be an adversary?”

Olivia gave him a slightly bewildered look of ‘really?’ “Hogwarts actively prevents Whitehall from getting to the muggleborn or raised students by overriding the enchantments of the Book of Births which by the way, is supposed to be stored within the Ministry’s Department for Education and accessible to every Headmaster or Mistress to ascertain the location of the family they would need to contact and help ease into this new world their magical child has been born into. The enchantments are supposed to alert the Headmaster or Headmistress of the closest school to the child so they can present their offer of education. This clearly isn’t the case as you have students being forced to travel from as far south as Penzance up to Scotland, as well as those from the farthest northern point being forced to travel all the way down to London, only to have the train take them right back up.”

Several of the other teachers grimaced at the illogical nature of magical bureaucracy. “That’s terrible! Why has no one brought this up before? I know that the Dark faction within our Wizengamot has lamented constantly that the muggleborns are ‘polluting’ our schools and streets. You would think they’d jump at the chance to support you.”

Olivia didn’t have an answer for that. “As you would naturally assume since it was created by the Founders of Hogwarts, the Book was originally stored here up until the formation of the modern Ministry for Magic in which it was transferred to the DfE. Sometime later, we’re still not sure when; it was stolen from the Ministry and hidden away back here in the castle. It’s become a recurring topic of discussion within our school and a favorite subject amongst the Student Debate Team too. The prevailing theory suggests that it was brought back here about the turn of the twentieth century.”

Filius frowned, “And in all that time, your school hasn’t been given access to it?”

Olivia nodded her agreement, “Nope, and we’d been forced to seek out potential students either by leaving brochures at the Ministry, by word of mouth, or in rare cases when our own detection system manages to locate a newly magical family.”

“What’s your detection range?”

Olivia took a sip of her wine before answering. “We have an effective range of about a hundred miles which gets us up to about the township of Rugby. Until the Queen, may she rest in peace, intervened; we were doing alright. Since then, it’s been a rush trying to cover the sudden population increase.”

Runes professor Bathsheda Babbling shook her head in confusion. “I still don’t understand why Hogwarts wants to prevent you from getting students. You cater specifically to the muggleborn or raised children. Why would it matter where they go as long as they’re getting the education they need?

Filius caught on first before Olivia could respond. “Control. If Hogwarts was the only available school, they’d be able to control what the muggleborns were able to learn as well as whom to socialize with, and eventually force the child to think that in order to continue to thrive in this society; they need to sever the connections they might have with their families and community.”

Olivia beamed proudly that someone got it. “Exactly. It’s already widely known that Hogwarts is currently undergoing a massive shift in how their students learn their core subjects given the reports our textbook publisher has been sending us. I would wager that most, if not all of you, got a glimpse at how we cover the materials and realized just how poorly the textbooks here are written. This shift no doubt is frightening to certain people who would rather maintain the status quo based on the ideals of what their society should look like from the time of their youth. (Everyone glanced over at an unsuspecting Albus who was busily inspecting a tray of lemon tarts.) As Deputy, it would normally be your job to meet with prospective students, correct? How many times have you been cussed out, had things thrown at you, or guard dogs sent after you simply because the parents think that you are the devil or some other demonic beast come to put a curse upon their family?”

Minerva’s face pinched slightly, “More times than I care to count.”

Olivia bobbed her head. “The ‘standard’ Hogwarts procedure is to approach the family within a week of their eleventh birthdays; usually with a letter and a visit, then provide them with no alternative to where their children can go to school. By that point, the parents are at their wits end trying to figure out why their child is able to do the things they can; sometimes they’re so stressed out that they send their child away to a psychiatric facility in the hopes that they can be ‘cured’ when all other attempts have been tried. The parents will most likely take you up on your offer without more thinking because maybe you can ‘do something.’ There’s no other assistance provided, the mindset being ‘if you or your child is strong enough to survive until eleven years of age, you might be worthy to join our school.' In short, they’re upset at your ‘sink or swim’ attitudes.”

Minerva wasn’t the only one with a scandalized expression on her face. Many had sheepish looks as they realized that’s exactly what happened based on the stories they’d overheard over the years.

“From the outset, Whitehall sends out representatives within a day or two after the families get home from the hospital to explain their new reality. Sometimes the reception is cold but that’s understandable, it’s stressful enough to welcome a new baby into a home, but most times it’s one of curiosity. We provide them with physical proof in the form of genealogical records or sometimes photographs that someone in their family was magical which is usually passed down through the line, sometimes skipping a generation or two. We help the new parents learn how to ease the effects of their child’s accidental magic, which foods are best to feed to ensure healthy growth, as well as providing books and other educational materials so their child and the parents can learn how to take those first steps in controlling magic. In some rare cases we can provide access to financial assistance to make sure the family can support the child.”

It was clear that nearly everyone there was contemplating what she’d told them and were making tentative plans to investigate this incredible information as soon as they could. Minerva in particular, asked Olivia if there were training courses she could take to make the introductions easier. “Merlin knows that the way I was taught isn’t working out as easily I would wish.”

Olivia patted her hand happily, “I’ll see what the schedule’s like when I get back to Whitehall. Now, getting back to the original question about why we accepted your invitation. I like to think of it as a professional courtesy. We’ve been given the opportunity to ‘see how the other side does things’ if you will. Granted, a few of our students who’d decided to attend spent a few month here originally, but the rest of them have never stepped foot within Hogwarts and were curious. I know that at least three are intrigued by the concept of a sport played on a broom.” Minerva brightened at the prospect of introducing them to Quidditch.

Simultaneously during the conversation about the different approach Whitehall took to introducing new students to magic…

Aurora whispered to Filius, “Wasn’t the turn of the century when Dumbledore became Headmaster?”

He shook his head, “No, he didn’t become Headmaster until the sixties. Before him was Armando Dippet; Albus was the Transfiguration teacher, then Deputy under Dippet’s tenure.”

“Do you think that Albus could’ve been the one behind all of this? The theft of the Book, the decline of our education standards leading to the eventual situation we’re in now?”

Filius pondered that for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh, “Albus is conniving, that much has always been true, but what would he gain by setting us down the path to where we are now?”

She gestured back to the group, “Like you said, control. You know how Albus gets when he perceives the possibility that he’s not in control of everything. What is he trying to control and why does he need to?”

Filius thought about her words, growling something dark under his breath as the pair turned back to the wider conversation.

Moments after the final ‘surprise’ calling for the Fifth Champion

Present…

“Harry Potter!” Albus called out to the Great Hall.

“He’s not in the castle as you very well know, Headmaster Dumbledore!” Olivia rose to her feet, berating her colleague. “Nor would he have entered himself in something that was specifically set up for Hogwarts students.”

Albus contemptuously replied, “Yet his name was chosen by the Goblet. You will just need to bring him up here.”

“I will not! Give me that slip; I want to see what it says.” She held her hand out imperiously. When Albus hesitated, she pointed to the press pool and hissed dangerously. “Do you want to go on record explaining why you think you have the right to force a twelve year old student from another school into an event that was only started because of your own school’s reputation was failing under your watch?” She snatched the slip out of his hand and cast a series of diagnostic charms on it, many of which Albus had never seen before.

“Figures, someone used an old school assignment with Mr. Potter’s name on it.”

Albus smirked condescendingly, “I told you. Mr. Potter entered…”

“But!” Olivia interrupted him. “But what they failed to consider is the age of the ink. As anyone who’d ever studied Magical Theory knows, a person’s magic slowly fades from the ink that they use over a specific amount of time; otherwise someone…” She motioned for Amelia and a couple of previously unnoticed Unspeakables to the front and handed over the slip. “Someone (she glared darkly at an unmoved Albus) could’ve used an old homework assignment to illegally enter Mr. Potter into this farce. As his Headmistress, I refuse to let him participate.”

Albus piously replied, “He must. The Goblet has chosen.”

Olivia was an inch away from murdering the arrogant old wizard. “That’s the Goblet’s sole purpose, you ignorant twit! It doesn’t have the ability to force someone to participate! After being chosen, the entrant is then allowed to refuse if they so desire.” She held out her hand in which the rules of the Triathlon appeared, this she slapped into Albus’ hands. “Maybe you need a refresher course in Contract Law, Headmaster. It’s clear you’ve forgotten a few things. (She addressed the Great Hall in general) Whitehall! We’re leaving; let this be a lesson to everyone to verify all contracts and invitations, especially if Albus Dumbledore is involved!” She descended from the Teacher’s platform, with her students obediently falling in line behind her.

It was only after a flash from a reporter’s camera, did Albus remember that everything that transpired tonight was being broadcast all over the world. The smug smile on his face vanished when he spotted Cornelius’s angry face as the Minister stormed towards him, flanked by his entourage which included a couple of the Ministry’s finest lawyers, and the other dignitaries.

Amelia cleared her throat, startling him from the approaching storm. “Albus Dumbledore, you are under arrest on the charge of illegally and intentionally endangering a minor plus Attempted Line Theft of the Heir to an Ancient and Most Noble Family.” Gasps of shock from the students and staff were heard at her charge of Attempted Line Theft. Even if the charge didn’t stick, the mere accusation was enough to cast doubt on Albus’ reputation and motives; more than one owl would be soon winging its way home that night bearing a letter to their parents about this newest development. Amelia finished reading him his rights before slapping a pair of magic-resisting cuffs on his wrists and forcibly led him from the Hall.

Tuesday November 1, 2022; Whitehall Academy, Headmistress’ office

Harry slumped with relief in his chair while he listened to Olivia explain the previous night’s events to him, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon. “So that’s the situation in a nutshell. Harry will not have to participate in the Triathlon no matter what that old idiot claims. The Goblet of Fire is an ancient device but its only purpose is to make a selection based on the information provided. It’s no different than flipping a coin to make a decision.”

A slow grin started forming on his face however; something that Petunia caught, “What are you smiling about?”

“I wouldn’t have been able to go up to the castle anyhow.” His face was alight with a slightly unhinged look of amusement.

Olivia cocked her head curiously, “How do you figure that, Mr. Potter?”

“I still have a restraining order on him,” was Harry’s simple explanation. Vernon cracked up laughing a split second later. “As I remember it correctly, he’s not permitted to be within a thousand feet of me at any moment.”

Vernon wiped the tears from eyes as he fought to recover, “That’s right! If he tries to violate it, the order will slowly and painfully drain his magic away from him as a warning. If he persists, the punishment increases in intensity and utterly drains him within a couple of minutes.”

“Thereby rendering him either a muggle or outright killing him…” Olivia finished, a smug smirk growing on her own face. “I wish I’d known that earlier; it would’ve been fun to see how he’d react.”

10 Downing Street, the following day

Vernon finished repeating what Olivia had informed them regarding Harry’s alleged inclusion into the Hogwarts Triathlon. “So that’s the situation as it stands. Headmistress Marchbanks would’ve been here herself, but she’s in a meeting with the school’s lawyers to make sure that nothing that results from Albus’ manipulations comes back to bite them. We have our own magical lawyer doing the same.”

Sitting quietly in the corner, King Charles the Third pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low grunt of annoyance. “The more I hear about this Albus Dumbledore, the stronger the feeling I get that perhaps it would be better for everyone if he was locked away somewhere with padded walls.” Several in the room commiserated with his observation.

The Prime Minister bobbed his head, “I’ve had a few run-ins with him and know how you feel. Your Majesty if I may, perhaps it’s time to review the status of the magical community? By allowing Mr. Dumbledore to reign unchecked over their students nine months out of the year, who knows what other damage he’s created further down the line?”

King Charles pursed his lips, slowly nodding his agreement. “I like that idea, but before we go down that route, I want you to send in someone to fully investigate their community top to bottom from the time of the Separation to present. Leave no stone unturned; find out all of their secrets, and who’s responsible for the most egregious conflicts. The personal issues between shopkeepers aren’t important, you understand.”

The PM bowed his head, “Perfectly, Sir.”

The King rose to his feet, prompting everyone else to do the same. “I’ll leave the rest up to you, Prime Minister. Mr. Dursley, if you so need, the Crown’s lawyers will stand ready to assist in any courtroom hearings.”

Vernon bowed respectfully, “Thank you, Sir.”

Saturday 5 November, 2022; Hogwarts, Hufflepuff Common room

Ginny lay back on the couch, lazily kicking her feet in the air when she was smacked in the face with a feathery pillow. “Ye-ow!” She sat up and glared at the sight of an unrepentantly grinning Luna. “Luna! What was that for?”

Luna smiled impishly, “I thought I saw a Yellow-bellied Pigma Salamander hovering nearby. They’re known for causing daydreams to become nightmares.”

Ginny pulled herself up into her best copy of the imposing stance her mum was known for (which honestly wasn’t all that effective given the amused look on Luna’s face.) “I don’t believe you one little bit, Miss Lovegood. I think you were being subjected to the mind-altering tendencies of the Snugglebottom Snarfrats.”

Luna cracked up laughing, “That was a good one, Ginny! I have taught you well.” She flopped down onto the couch and used her pillow to prop up her feet. “So what’s your family’s reaction to Percy after his selection?”

Ginny sank back down onto the couch and clutched an extra pillow to her chest. “It’s still kind of a shock. Percy never does anything exciting! He once said that it was thrilling to collect those muggle stamps from the occasional letter we got in the mail or whenever we had to go into town.”

Luna hummed, “And what did Percy have to say about it?”

“He said that he wanted to prove myself to myself. That there was no other reason than it would look good on his CV to the Ministry if he won.”

Reaching out with her toe to poke Ginny, Luna replied that it seemed like a good enough answer. Ginny responded by grabbing onto Luna’s foot and drag the shrieking girl into a tickle fight.

Later, the two girls were wandering aimlessly around the castle when Mrs. Norris intercepted them. “Ooh, kitty!” Ginny squealed as she squatted down to give the suspicious cat a gentle scratch behind the ears. “There is no greater happiness than the warmth of kitty fur on an autumn day and the gentle rumbling of their purring.” Luna joined in by gently stroking her fingers along the cat’s back.

Mrs. Norris contentedly flopped over on the ground as she submitted to the girls’ petting. Luna commented, “I’m wondering if we could use her for an experiment I’ve always wanted to try.” Both Ginny and Mrs. Norris looked up at her; the former curious, the latter a bit wary. “I was wondering just how much pampering a cat could take before they pass out from pleasure.” Mrs. Norris approved of this plan by purring even louder.

Ginny’s face split open with a wide grin, “Ooh, that’d be fun. Endless tuna treats, slow tummy rubs, catnip toys…”

“Hey! What are you doing to my cat?” Argus Filch’s raspy voice cut into their planning session causing both to jump.

“Meowr…” Mrs. Norris complained loudly at the interruption to the exquisite toe-bean massage she’d been receiving from Ginny. Argus scooped up his cat and glared at the two Hufflepuffs before stalking away, Mrs. Norris looking over his shoulder with the determined expression ‘I’ll find you, don’t worry’ on her furry face.

Luna pouted, “Pooh, now what do we do?”

Ginny brightened, “Want to go up to the seventh floor and see if we can trick the Fat Lady into letting us in?”

The portrait of the Fat Lady watched on in mute bemusement at Ginny’s pleading and elaborate gesturing ‘dance’ to be let in so she could spend some quality time with her brothers. “Please, you have to! Ever since I was sorted into Hufflepuff, I’ve been overwhelmed with the urge to cuddle everyone! I swear they won’t mind and it’s not like we’re going to do anything bad. We’re Puffs, not Snakes!”

The Fat Lady huffed amusedly, “Miss Weasley, you know the rules. Unless this is a dire emergency, or if you were invited in by a member of this House, I simply cannot let anyone in no matter how close the relationship.”

Luna coughed to get both of their attention, “I think both of you are missing an important point here. Ginny, there’re other ways of getting what you want without resorting to utter adorableness. Save that weapon for your parents. Miss Lady has also forgotten that Hufflepuff doesn’t just mean someone who is hardworking and loyal. We also have a talent in being sneaky, so sneaky in fact that no one suspects us until it’s too late.” With that said, she pushed on a slightly darker brick which slid into the wall making a clunking noise as the Lady’s frame swung open to the amazement of the other two, one human, one painted.

“How did you know that was going to happen?” Ginny asked as they clambered through the doorway over the indignant cries of the portrait.

“It just sort of made sense.” Luna shrugged then revealed her secret, “I also asked one of the older portraits how people got into the tower before the Fat Lady was installed. They said at one time, all you needed to do was to remember where the hidden lock was located. While you were pleading your case, I took a look at my surroundings and noticed that one of the bricks seemed a bit different than the others and stuck out from the wall which suggested it was something important.”

Ginny shook her head in amazement, “Now I know why you always thought you’d end up in Ravenclaw. That was incredible deductive reasoning, Luna.”

Percy was busily reading a report he’d received from the Ministry’s Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures after sending in a letter asking for a copy. The report specifically dealt with creatures that had been recently imported from overseas. He wanted to see if he could get a clue as to which one he might be facing during the First Task. The list was color-coded based on the Creature Danger Index and had been segregated further with an asterisk demarking which classification Dumbledore had been permitted access to. So far, the bulk of the creatures imported for Hogwarts use were the meat animals for the kitchens, some for Potions, Transfiguration, or Charms class; and a breeding pair of hippogriffs for Care of Magical Creatures.

His eyes were starting to cross when he noticed a listing for a solitary Puffskein to be imported from Colombia and shipped directly to Hogwarts, in care of the Headmaster. “Odd, why would anyone import a single Puffskein? It’s not like they’re difficult to find here on the island.”

“Hi, Percy!”

Percy flailed at the sudden calling of his name. The papers in his hand went flying as did the chair he’d been leaning back in. He fell to the floor with a heavy thump and a low groan. “G-Ginny? What the… How in Merlin’s name did you get in here?!”

Ginny pointed towards the open window, “I climbed up.”

Besides her, Luna started fighting back a laugh, something Percy caught almost immediately. “I don’t believe you, Ginny. Seriously, how did you get in here? You’re not a Gryffindor, it pains me to admit.”

Ginny thumbed in Luna’s direction (the blonde curtsied cutely.) “Luna figured out a way to bypass the portrait. Whatcha doing?”

Rising to his feet, Percy reset the chair and his paperwork into a reasonable sense of order. “I’ve been working on figuring out which kind of animal Headmaster Dumbledore would have the Champions face first.”

“Any takers?” she pressed, peering at the report where it laid upside-down from her perspective on the table.

He turned the paper around and tapped on the Puffskein listing. “This one is the oddest. Why would he import a single Puffskein to be delivered here? They’re easy to get from any pet shop in Diagon Alley or in Hogsmeade.”

Luna tilted her head as if lost in thought, her eyes glazing over. When she returned to herself, she speared Percy with a hard look. “How’s your Occulumency?”

Confused by the non sequitur, he stammered out, “It, it’s alright, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

She tapped the report with a finger. “I remember visiting Peru once with Daddy when he went in search of the Lost Gardens of Mocha Pikachu. One of the guides told the tale of a small furry creature that lured you into its territory with its soothing purring. Once you were caught, unless you had strong mental strength; you were slowly consumed by it like it was some sort of parasite.”

Percy’s face paled as he sank onto the chair. “You think this might be the same creature that the Headmaster imported? But why? Why bring in something that dangerous just for a school event?”

Luna shook her head, her hair bouncing around. “I have no idea, but at least you’re warned and can prepare.”

Percy stared off into space, “I should tell the others as well. It’s not right that Dumbledore would endanger us like this.”

Ginny growled, “If he was willing to try and trap Harry Potter into this contest, I don’t think he’d care about you or the others, Percy.”

Thursday 10 November, 2022; Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office, evening

Albus returned to his apartment in desperate need of a long soak in the bathtub after yet another ridiculously long hearing into his role of the disastrous Champion Selection Ceremony a little over a week and a half ago. “Blasted media vultures! How dare they insinuate I’ve been embezzling funds from the tuition for my own gain!” His life had been turned upside-down ever since his very public arrest by that Bones Bitch and her trained attack dogs in front of the reporters, the foreign dignitaries, and the Minister for Magic. Cornelius even had the audacity to inform him that his office would not be looking the other way on this. “You screwed the pooch solidly this time, Albus. I warned you from the beginning that this tournament or whatever event you had planned had to be completely safe and above-board. By attempting to enter Mr. Potter into this…farce makes it clear to anyone with two brain cells that you had no interest in demonstrating the qualities of Hogwarts, only to regain control over a single child who dared to question your leadership.”

If that wasn’t the worst of it all, Albus was frustrated by the letter that he’d received from the DMLE reminding him once again that even if Harry Potter had been a valid entry (which he was not), Albus wouldn’t have been able to remain in the castle with the brat due to that infuriating restraining order with its one thousand foot proximity restriction. He could’ve solved that if the Elder wand still worked for him like it used to. “Stupid wand, stupid brother of mine for stealing it away. How am I supposed to lead our society to the crowning glory I know it could be if I’m being continuously stymied by small-minded idiots at every turn?” He scowled at the wand in his hand. It wasn’t the Elder wand, but his original wand that he bought when he’d turned eleven all those years ago. The Auror at the prisoner processing center wouldn’t give the Elder wand back to him, stating some cock and bull that the magics involved indicated that it belonged to Aberforth and that they’d be looking into the possibility that the wand might’ve been stolen. “If it is, and your brother files the report…well, don’t try to do anything stupid, Albus.” Amelia smugly remarked, “On second thought maybe if you did something stupid, my Aurors will have an excuse to put you down hard.”

Sighing as he sat down on his chair behind his desk, Albus picked up the latest issue of the Daily Prophet in hopes of finding something he could use to bolster his now-shredded public image. Right off the bat, he spotted the article announcing that the coffers of both shopping districts had reached critical levels and that if this triathlon didn’t go through, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade would be utterly and completely ruined. He scowled at the editorial that lambasted his most recent failings to not only improve the school’s reputation by hosting this brand-new event, but also for attempting to endanger the life of a twelve-year old from a visiting school. Several representatives from the invited countries also had a few things to say about him, none of it good.

“Problem, Headmaster?” Albus flinched at the sound of that voice as his gaze slid over to the portrait of Gellert who was now watching him intently and smiling oily. “Tell me your tale of woe, my love. You know that I only have the best of intentions for you.”

Albus scrubbed his eyes with his hands. When his vision cleared, he saw that the painting had returned to its inactive state. “I’m imagining things again. It’s the stress from not being listened by the sheep as is my due.”

He yelped and jumped out of his chair when cold, dead fingers caressed his shoulders and a hollow whisper ghosted his hearing. “Aww, don’t feel so bad, Albie; we’re only just getting started.”

Saturday 12 November, 2022; Potter’s Threads Studio

Harry critically examined the way the muslin fabric looked as he pinned it in place. He glanced up to see Hermione curiously peering down at his handiwork. “How’s that feel?” She cautiously moved her arm around and nodded her approval. “Good I was worried about the corners of the sleeve bunching up underneath.”

“I like how modest this skirt is, Harry.” Mrs. Granger commented from her place at the drafting table, watching as her daughter got fitted for his latest design.

He bowed his head in thanks while reaching for another couple of pins and a pair of scissors. “Thank you, Mrs. Granger. It’ll look even better once I get the petticoat installed.”

“I love this pattern you picked for the corset, Harry,” Hermione told him, tracing her fingers along the gold stitching in the brocade.

“You know what’s really special about it? That was originally a tablecloth I picked up from the charity shop for a quid. It was in a box with about a dozen others like it, though that one was the best of the lot. I also picked up some of my bolts of vintage fabric from there.” He pointed to the stacks of cloth on the far table where Sunny was poking through them to see what he’d gotten.

Hermione’s eyes widened at hearing that. “Wow, I had no idea you could do that.” She flinched when he accidentally poked her with a pin.

“Sorry. Yeah, I love going through those shops looking for something that still has some love to give or that is in need of some loving. That’s where I picked up my desk that’s in my room. It’s over a hundred years old and all it needed was to have the old paint scraped off, new varnish applied, and a couple of new drawer pulls installed. Uncle Vernon and I worked on it together a couple of years ago.”

Hermione shifted slightly, “I saw that desk. It’s gorgeous.”

“Solid English Oak, no less. If I had to buy it brand new, it would’ve been over seven thousand pounds.”

“How much did it cost you?” She inquired.

“Roughly three hundred quid. Uncle Vernon haggled with the sales clerk and got it down from its original asking price of a five hundred because of the missing pieces. We looked it up later and discovered its age. I don’t think the clerk knew what he had, to be honest.”

“Neat.” She turned to see the pockets on the dress better. “I like these half-circle pockets, Harry. They’re cute and different than what I’m used to.”

Harry bobbed his head in agreement, “I do too. I can also give you a ruffle around the edges, if you want? (She shook her head that she was alright with how it was.) Okay, take that off and let The Goddess of Sewing work her magic.” The elf in question overheard and giggled at the compliment.

Once the fitting was done, the two kids headed out to the backyard for some ‘downtime’ aka chase each other around acting like feral creatures to the amusement of the adults. Emma Granger watched her daughter get backed into a corner and threaten to spray Harry down with the garden hose if he didn’t do something she couldn’t quite catch. She laughed when she heard Harry’s reply that he’d turned the water off when Hermione wasn’t looking which prompted the girl to mistakenly look down at the nozzle. Emma’s snort of laughter caught Petunia’s attention at the indignant screech of surprise coming from Hermione when Harry lunged forward and squeezed the trigger squirting water in her face then hightailed it out of there.

“It’s nice to see them act their age,” Petunia remarked as she handed the other woman a cup of tea.

“Hermione especially. She does get to act all silly with her other friends, but they’re at that age that when they see me, it’s like a switch has been thrown and they stare at me like I’m sort of predatory animal that needs to be watched.”

Petunia chuckled, “I remember those days. Fortunately, I have boys. They’re more prone to performing some sort of stupid stunt to show off their ‘manliness’.”

Emma smirked then changed the subject. “I heard what happened up at Hogwarts from Hermione.”

Petunia scowled slightly, “I have half a mind to take one of Harry’s magical enchantment necklaces so I can go up to that ‘school’ to give him a piece of my mind with my fist. Repeatedly, if necessary until the message sinks in.”

“So Harry’d been chosen to take part?”

Petunia shook her head, “No, it was determined that it was an illegal entry which disqualified Harry from having to take part. As far as I’m concerned, Hogwarts can just collapse into rubble.” That scowl turned into snorts of laughter at the sight of Hermione riding piggy-back on Harry before ‘accidentally’ dunking his head in the birdbath pond.

Monday 14 November, 2022; After Potions class for the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor first years

Ginny hurried to catch up with the others after class only to take a wrong turn and ended up in a whole other place. The walls were wet to the touch, the air smelled of mold and decay, and the lighting was so dim that she could barely see three steps ahead of her. She froze when her hearing picked up the whispers of something hissing at her. “Who’s there?”

The sounds of something very large slithering around caused her insides to liquefy in fear. She started backing up only to find her way blocked by something large and scaly. Ginny squeezed her eyes tightly shut, “I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die. I want my daddy…”

“I will not harm you, young one but I am curious as to why you’re down here.”

Ginny continued to squeeze her eyes closed as she replied, “I got lost from my class. I left my potions class trying to catch up to my friends and took a wrong turn.”

“Judging by your colors, you’re one of Helga’s children. I liked her; she always brought such tasty treats from the kitchens. You may turn around and look at me, young one.”

Ginny slowly spun around, cracked her eyes open, and gasped at the sight before her. The serpent’s head was easily wider than she was tall and had a beautiful ruffle of feathers in pinks, purples, and light blues around the back of its head. Its sharp teeth glistened in the faint light as did its reddish eyes which seemed to stare into the depths of her soul. “Wow, you’re gorgeous. What are you?”

“Thank you, young one. My name is Sandrine. I am a basilisk and Guardian of Hogwarts. I was woken up because the wards alerted me to the presence of muggles nearby. Muggles are dangerous to witches and wizards and need to be repelled.”

Ginny’s face pulled down into a bit of a frown. “The muggles in my town are friendly. Granted they don’t really know much about my family, but whenever we’re in town doing our shopping, they’ve been pleasant.”

Sandrine slightly bobbed her massive head, “That is good to know. What is your name?”

Ginny blushed shyly, “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Ginny Weasley. I’m a first year.”

Sandrine made a coughing sound sort of like a wheezy laugh, “I remember a Weasley back when Salazar first brought me to the castle. I always had difficulty pronouncing his name….” Sandrine paused as if listening to something before hissing, “The castle has informed me that the modern pronunciation would be something close to Adelmaer. Adelmaer Weasley; he was notorious for performing jokes and pranks upon the other students and teachers.”

Ginny dropped her head and groaned, “What is it with my family and pranks? My twin brothers are always causing chaos with their jokes. Sandrine, would you help me find my way back up to the castle?”

“You are still in the castle, Ginny Weasley.”

“I meant the area where the students are. Like the Great Hall or the Main Courtyard.”

“Ah, I understand. Follow me.” Sandrine turned and slithered down the hallway.

When Ginny stepped out of the secret passage, she discovered that her disappearance hadn’t gone unnoticed. Professor Sprout appeared to be coordinating a castle-wide search and issuing orders to the students, portraits, and suits of armor. “Professor Sprout! Here I am!” She called out, waving her arm to get the woman’s attention.

Pomona sighed with great relief at the sight of the dirt-stained first year, “Miss Weasley! Where have you been? The castle has been in lockdown ever since we got word of a muggle invasion!”

Ginny glanced back to where Sandrine had disappeared, “Whoa, I thought Sandrine was kidding. Where are the muggles now?” She squirmed a bit from Pomona’s brief physical examination to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

Pomona looked up at the child, “Sandrine? Who’s that?”

Ginny pointed back towards the secret passageway. “Sandrine’s the name of a giant basilisk put in place by Salazar Slytherin, according to her. She also said she knew my ancestor when he went to school here and was as bad of a prankster as the twins are!”

Pomona’s mouth dropped open, “Ba…Basilisk?? There’s one of those in the school? How were you not killed?”

Ginny shrugged, “I dunno, but she seemed friendly enough. She had some great stories about some of the people back when the school first opened. Did you know that Godric Gryffindor had a high nasally sort of whiny voice?”

The only reaction Pomona could come up with was a sort of strangled laugh, most likely one brought on by the confusing rush of emotions. On the one hand, she felt relief that one of her first years had been found and returned safe and unharmed. On the other hand, there was a deadly basilisk roaming the hidden hallways. “I’m…uh, we need…you should rejoin your friends in our common room. Hurry and don’t dawdle.” She shooed the redhead off before making her own hurried way to Minerva’s office.

“I think my biggest shock is the fact that you changed your mind regarding the Whitehall textbooks that are now required reading, Severus.” Pomona heard Minerva’s comment as she burst into the teacher’s lounge. Minerva and the others gasped at the sweaty and pallid expression on their colleague’s face. “What happened to ye, Pomona?”

Gasping and wheezing from the flat out run she’d pushed herself to do, Pomona fluttered her hand back towards the Great Hall. Severus got up and assisted her into a chair then handed her a glass of water. “Easy there, professor.”

Finally getting herself under nominal control, she managed to gasp out, “There’s a basilisk roaming the tunnels!”

Light laughter was the last thing anyone expected to come from Severus; maniacal laughter, sure; heck even evil laughter was expected, but light-hearted as if he’d seen an amusing play that filled his heart with happiness? Never in a billion years. “You met Sandrine, then?”

Minerva tilted her head like her feline Animagus form would do, “Sandrine, Severus?”

Severus continued to snicker at their confusion. “It’s the basilisk’s name. She’s Salazar Slytherin’s Guardian for Hogwarts. Each of the Four Founders had their own, Godric’s was a Gryffin, Rowena reportedly had a massive eagle, while Helga’s was her beloved badgers. How do you not know about this?”

Minerva waved her hand around, “Well, I knew about their mascots but I didn’t know that they had names nor that one of them was a bloody basilisk! How did you find out about the snake?”

Severus’ eyes still twinkled in amusement at her discomfort. “It’s in the Head of Slytherin House’s Guidebook. Don’t you have one?” Minerva, Pomona, and Filius all shook their heads no. “Well, I’m not surprised at you, Minerva. I suspect that Albus kept his after he was promoted from Head to Deputy Headmaster. How did you discover her, Pomona?”

“She apparently rescued Miss Weasley after the poor girl took a wrong turn and got lost in the dungeons. According to her, Sandrine shared some stories about the students and staff from its founding era.” She wiped her face down with a conjured cloth then turned to Minerva, “What were you discussing when I burst in?”

Minerva crinkled her nose at Severus. “I was referring to Severus’ change of heart about how the textbooks we get from Whitehall are superior to the old ones. I was wondering why he’d been so resistant to making the switch then did so anyhow.”

Severus’ cheeks pinked slightly, “And I was about to reply that I never really took a deeper investigation of the information before Ronald Weasley came to me to take his end of year Potions test this past June. I thought, erroneously, that they were nothing more than muggle trash. Clearly, I was wrong and ashamed that I didn’t pursue it earlier when it could’ve given me an advantage over the others.”

“The others?” Pomona questioned him.

Severus gestured to the others in the room. “Minerva was the only one who’d seen all of the books in any great depth. Had I taken the opportunity at the time, who knows how well my classes would be running now? Now none of my students melt their cauldrons because of improperly following instructions, they all know how to handle the equipment, each one of their finished samples have been damn near perfect or within an acceptable tolerance, and their homework assignments provide the answers I’d requested and without the flowery or excessive wording that the old texts gave.”

The door suddenly slammed open as Albus staggered inside, clutching his head while muttering two words over and over again:

“Chicken Banana
Chicken Banana
Chicken Banana
Banana banana!”

“Albus! Are you alright?” Minerva yelped as she lunged for him to guide him into a chair.

Albus stared at her with feverish eyes and continued to chant.

“Chicken Banana
Chicken Banana
Chicken Banana
Banana banana!”

Realizing that there was nothing she could do, Minerva stunned him then sent her Patronus to alert Poppy to come to the lounge. “What the heck was that all about? Chicken banana?”

Later, as Minerva headed back up to Gryffindor Tower to inform her charges that the so-called ‘muggle invasion’ was just a false alarm and that they would be allowed to go back to their regular schedules, she discovered that Albus’ mysterious malady had been heard by many others. When she entered the common room, she was nearly bowled over by the volume of noise. A couple of the first years were dancing to the hideous tune much to the amusement of the others.

“Chicken Banana
Chicken Banana
Chicken Banana
Banana banana!”

She discovered Fred and George hunched over Albus’ letter, prodding it with their wands as ghostly magical script hung in the air. She shot a cannon blast into the air and called out, “Messers Weasley!”

All four redheads looked up simultaneously causing snorts of laughter to erupt from the others in the room. She pointed to the twins, “Fred and George; what have you done to the Headmaster?”

Both boys held their hands up and answered in stereo, “It wasn’t us, professor! Honest!”

“Chicken Banana
Chicken Banana
Chic – “

Fred spotted the growing anger in her expression and silenced the noise to answer her question. “We were passing by the Headmaster who’d been mumbling this lyric over and over, clutching this letter in his grip. When he dropped it, we got curious. It’s ingenious whoever created it. We’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s based on the Howler enchantments but it seems to have a compulsion and a few other things woven into it.”

George picked up next, “Now, weaving a compulsion into an audio matrix is child’s play. I’d bet even a first year could do it, but the complexities is off the chart. If you try to disconnect it from the power array, it’s booby-trapped to explode into dust so it can’t be traced back to whoever sent it. Next, it’s impossible to silence it. We have to silence the air around it to be effective. Additionally, there seems to be this other bit that sends a…signal, for lack of a better term that we think alerts the sender that the letter had been received. We’ve already copied down the magical details if you care to look.”

Minerva examined their findings briefly but shook her head, “It’s been too long since I’ve had to analyze anything like this.” She held up a finger briefly, “Let me make a floo call.”

When she returned, Minerva escorted yet another redhead into the common room. This new person wore dragon leather boots, heavy canvas cargo trousers, and a hand-woven work shirt in muted red that seemed painted onto his rugged physique. This in addition to a dragon leather vest, along with the fang earring caused many a teen-aged girl’s heartbeat to start racing. Ron’s excited yell of “Bill!” alerted the others who his identity was. Someone snarkily quipped, “Just how many Weasleys are there?”

Bill Weasley chuckled and ran his hand over his long hair, “Seven children. I’m the oldest.” He briefly glanced around the room, “Where’s Ginny?”

“Ginny got herself sorted into Hufflepuff.” Ron informed his eldest brother who looked surprised.

“Really? That’s a first. Alright, where’s this mysterious letter that has our esteemed Headmaster all in a tizzy about chicken and bananas?” He was directed to where the twins had been standing guard and pulled out his wand. “You said you copied down the signature?”

Fred slid over the paperwork, “We noticed a few other things as well.” He pointed out the discrepancies and mysterious booby-traps.

Bill’s eyes seemed to dance with intrigue the further he went into his careful dissection of the letter. “I’m impressed. Whoever managed to do this is quite skilled, not only on how to modify a Howler, but to also prevent anyone from tracing it back to them? Hmmm… ah, clever girl.”

“Girl? You’re saying a girl did this, Mr. Weasley?” Minerva peered over George’s shoulder, the teen quickly slid out of the way to give her a better view.

“Hhnn? Oh, sorry. It’s a line from a movie, professor. I saw it a couple of years ago and it just sort of stuck with me. No, I have no idea who might’ve created this, but if their identity is ever revealed, I want to meet with them to pick their brains. In addition to the traceback booby trap, there’s another one hidden just below it that would send an electric shock into the target’s hand forcing it to hit the power connection and setting off the explosion.”

“So there’s a booby trap for a booby trap?” Fred asked curiously. “That’s brilliant in a scary sort of way.”

Bill nodded solemnly as he cast a stasis charm on the letter. “I’ve put it under stasis so I can transport it back to the office so I can hopefully disassemble it without endangering anyone here.” He conjured up a lockbox and carefully levitated the letter inside then closed it up. He smiled at his twin brothers, “So, good job on your initial scans, boys. If you ever want to give up the life of inveterate pranksters and work with the big boy toys give me a floo call, eh?” He clapped them on the shoulders, gave Ron a hug, and shook Percy’s hand before following Minerva out of the room.

Silence reigned for a moment before some dreamy sighs were heard. “Your brother is so hot!” One of the older girls breathed while dramatically fanning herself to the giggles of the younger years.

Whitehall Academy, three days later

Hermione had never in her life been called into the Headmistress’ office before and it terrified her that she was being punished for something. The secretary knocked on the door, then beckoned for her to enter. Headmistress Marchbanks sat behind her desk with a calm expression, “Thank you for coming, Miss Granger. I’d like to introduce you to William Weasley and the Director for the Department of Mysteries, Algernon Croaker. They’re here because of a letter you apparently sent to Albus Dumbledore.”

Croaker noticed the confusion on the young girl’s face. “Judging by your reaction, you have no idea what we’re talking about?”

Hermione shook her head, “What letter?”

Bill pointed to it on Olivia’s desk. “We detected your magical signature during our analysis of its operation. It’s been since deactivated, but you should be able to understand your own charm work.”

Peering at the scribbled lines, she sort of traced them with her fingers, “This can’t be my work. I don’t even recognize some of these symbols. I had planned on taking a course in Ancient Runes, but this is beyond me. What does it do?”

“It causes a person to repeat a song ad nauseum until they either pass out, or the compulsion works itself out of their system,” Bill answered her. “If you try to cut off the power to the letter, it causes a booby trap to explode.” Hermione paled at the thought of someone pretending to be her and creating a letter bomb.

“With your permission, I’d like to examine your memories.” Hermione glanced at her Headmistress who nodded her approval. As Algernon looked closely into her eyes; she could feel a slight pressure in her head as if she was developing the first twinges of a migraine. “She’s telling the truth. Miss Granger, at least this Miss Granger is innocent of sending that letter.”

“What do you mean this Miss Granger? I’m the only Miss Granger I know of,” Hermione rebutted.

Algernon smiled lightly, “It’s a simple enough mistake. What I meant is that this letter must’ve been sent by an older version of yourself back to the current time or her past. There are specific markers within a person’s signature that tell those who know what to look for, in this case the date in which the magic was applied. Given that her target was Albus Dumbledore makes it pretty clear that she was angry at him for something he must’ve done or will have done. When I looked into your eyes using a procedure known as Legilimency, I scanned your memories for any hint of deceit but you came up clean.”

Hermione harrumphed, crossed her arms over her chest, and scowled. “I’ll give you three guesses as to what that bad man might’ve done and two of them are wrong.” All three adults snickered at her reaction.

Algernon tapped his nose then addressed Olivia, “Indeed. Headmistress, I see no further reason to take up anymore of your time. Miss Granger of the present is in no trouble, and Miss Granger of the future got her payback.” He and Bill picked up their stuff and left the room.

Olivia however wasn’t done with Hermione. “Based on what I saw, Miss Granger; I daresay that you are worth watching. See that you don’t do anything explosive, please. Dismissed.”

Friday 18 November, 2022; Hogwarts

Percy and the other Champions gathered in an empty classroom to discuss their options regarding the Triathlon. “Is it even still going to happen?” Cassius wondered as he idly brushed off a piece of imaginary lint.

“I’d like to know that too. Don’t these competitions usually involve some sort of contract?” Cedric added in.

Percy had gotten his hands on a copy of the rules from Bagman. He quickly flipped to a marked page, “Should the selectee be chosen by the governing body, whomever he, she, or it may be; the aforementioned selectee shall be given the opportunity to withdraw their entry…blah, blah, blah…um, oh here we go. Once both parties have agreed that the selectee is in good health and sound mind, they shall be given a contract stipulating what conditions are required to be met then signed forthwith by the following day. Should a contract not be signed by at least two days before the start of the First Task, the selectee is not penalized for failure to participate in the ‘Hogwarts Triathlon.’ I guess since none of us received this contract, it won’t matter if the triathlon takes place or not.”

Marcus let out a slow sigh, “Damn, I was kind of hoping that we’d be facing off against some dangerous beast like a dragon or something.” Percy flinched which the others noticed. “What?”

“It slipped my mind, I should’ve told you earlier. I found out which creature Dumbledore brought in for us to face in the First Task and it isn’t good.” He went on to describe the Colombian Puffskein’s parasitical nature and the method in which it captured its prey. All three of the others paled drastically; Cassius even went so far as to cross himself surprising the others with his action.

“My family may be Dark, but even we recognize some of the world’s more common religions. You don’t have to be all Hufflepuffy about following their teachings.” He shot a teasing smirk in Cedric’s direction. The latter teen scoffed and dismissively waved his hand.

“I’ve got an idea on how to salvage this,” Percy commented after some quiet thought. “What if we were to demonstrate what it means to be a member of our particular House?”

Cassius sat forward, peering at the redhead curiously. “How so?”

“Gryffindor represents bravery; I could walk up to Dumbledore and slap him in the face. Marcus could use that Ravenclaw intelligence to think of a clever escape route. Cassius, you could use your sneakiness to distract Dumbledore from retaliating, while Cedric and his Hufflepuff sweetness could make it all nice again.”

The more he explained, the louder the laughter at his absurd idea grew.

Tuesday 22 November, 2022; Whitehall Academy

The moment Harry entered the cafeteria; he was nearly bowled over by the thunderous applause and cheers from the other students and staff. He raised his hands to quiet them down. “Um, thanks? I have no idea as to why you felt the need to congratulate me, but I appreciate it all the same.”

Lavender came bouncing up to hand him a special edition of the Daily Prophet. “You’re a hero, Harry.”

There in big, bold letters was the headline: Albus PWB Dumbledore Apologizes to Harry J. Potter!

Harry’s jaw dropped open as he read, “Yesterday morning, Headmaster Dumbledore issued a formal apology to Harry Potter for his role in attempting to trick Harry Potter into participating in the newly formed Hogwarts Triathlon.”

Down below the caption was the letter:

Monday 21 November, 2022

Harry J. Potter

C/O Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Mr. Potter;

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to express my sincerest apologies for my actions on 31 October, 2022, which caused you distress and disappointment. It was never my intention to hurt you, and I deeply regret the pain I may have caused.

Upon reflecting on the event, I realize how my words and behavior may have impacted you. I acknowledge that I should have approached the situation with more sensitivity and understanding. It is important to me that you know I take full responsibility for my actions, and I understand that they were not acceptable.

To make amends, I am committed to ensuring that such a situation does not happen again in the future. I am open to discussing this further and hearing your thoughts on how I can improve. Your feelings matter greatly to me, and I would like the opportunity to regain your trust.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter. I genuinely hope we can move past this and restore our relationship.

Sincerely,

Albus PWB Dumbledore, Headmaster Hogwarts

Lavender noticed something odd about Harry while the boy read the letter. “Harry? You look like you skipped over a line.”

Harry’s face pinched ruefully then addressed the room, “Did anyone else receive a copy of this paper at home or in their office?” Everyone glanced about, no one admitting to getting a copy. “Did anyone read the article before it was given to me?” Again, no one owned up to doing so. Harry scowled, “I figured as much. This was just another ploy by Dumbledore to sucker me into reading out loud the trigger phrase to a portkey! That bastard just doesn’t know when to give up. Well, this Potter’s had it; Kevin! (The teen rose to his feet with a steely glint in his eye) I know you must have something in your bag of tricks that might fit this situation.”

Kevin’s grin was pure predator, “You better believe it. I know just the matrix I can use. I’m just waiting on your go-ahead.”

A sharp, loud whistle broke the growing tension. Everyone whirled around to see the Headmistress standing in the doorway with a wry expression on her face. “Thank you, now I will not have any of my students contemplating or preparing to wage war against an idiot with delusions of grandeur. (She shot Kevin a silent glare to stand down. Kevin sank back into his chair but fingered his book of runic possibilities.) Mr. Potter, you will let the actual law enforcement to deal with this as their job requires.” She held out her hand for the paper Harry was crushing in his grip. “I shall take this directly to Director Bones myself. In the meantime, don’t you all have classes to attend to?” There was a cacophony of noise from scraping chair feet and chatter from the students until the only ones left was a defiant Harry and Olivia.

She knelt down in front of him with a sympathetic look, “I know you want to exact your revenge, but trust me, now is not the time for that.”

Harry heaved a disappointed growl, “Fine, but the moment he’s down; I want to get my kicks in.”

Olivia rose back to her feet and held out her hand, “Deal.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: The First Task to Repairing Fraying Threads

Still Tuesday 22 November, 2022; Whitehall, Doctor Charles Montgomery’s office (Chair for the Department of Charms)

“So what’s your verdict, Charles?” Olivia sipped on her tea while her Head of the Charms Department examined the letter Mr. Potter had received.

“It’s an obscure charm; designed to compel everyone around it to encourage the recipient to read the letter out loud and more willing to activate the trigger phrase.” He tapped the ghostly floating information with his wand to focus on a particular string. “Ingenious, really. Not many modern cursebreakers would even know to look for it.”

“Can you tell me what the trigger phrase is without setting it off?”

Charles waved his hand dismissively, “Of course. That was one of the first things I disabled after opening up the enchantments. The phrase used was ‘if you feel it in your heart to forgive me, all you have to do is say: I accept your views’.”

Olivia scowled, “Devious, but I can’t picture Mr. Potter ever saying something like that after all the grief that Albus’ put him through.”

Charles hummed, “Worse than that is this buried layer under all of that. It’s a rather nasty insidious compulsion that would be put upon Mr. Potter if he did read it. It acts like much like an Imperious without any of the associative markers. I would wager that if that had been utilized, it would’ve caused Mr. Potter to blindly follow whatever idiocy that Albus wanted him to do.”

Olivia had just about reached the end of her patience against the old man. “Alright, I’m going to hand this over to Director Bones in the hopes that she’ll have enough rope to hang this bastard. Never in all my years have I ever met someone so obsessed with controlling one boy to accomplish their goal of who-knows-what.”

Hogwarts, the next day…

The main source of gossip within the stone walls of the castle were the rumors that the Headmaster had been arrested for the charges of attempted kidnapping and illegal usage of mind magics on a minor. Minerva sagged in her chair at the Teacher’s table and let out a long sigh of frustration. “That man is going to be the death of Hogwarts.”

Filius snorted with derisive laughter, “You think? Does anyone know of a regulation or charter law that offers us a way out from underneath his dubious shadow?”

Minerva shook her head partway as a thoughtful frown marred her face before calling out to the students. “Percy Weasley!” The redhead in question snapped his head up then hurried up to their table when he caught her beckoning him over. “Professor Flitwick brought up an interesting question I thought you might be able to answer. Is there was anything in the Hogwarts Charter about overriding or removing an ineffective or purposively obstructive Head? Since you’re widely known as one of the few people in this castle whose not only read the Charter, but also remembers what’s in it; I was hoping you might have some insight.”

Percy’s eyes glazed over as he ran through the relevant information in his mind’s eye. The other teachers watched on in curiosity; Aurora even commented that it was odd to see anyone react like that. “His Occlumency must be incredible. It’s no wonder why he’s so good in his classwork.”

Percy’s eyes unglazed as he cleared his throat, “Okay, I found the rules. Do you want the boiled down version or verbatim?”

Severus snorted at the teen’s unnecessary question. “I think the boiled down version ought to suffice, Mr. Weasley.”

“Then simply put, you need to document everything that the Head has done against the mandate of what his or her duties are and submit them to the Board of Governors. Only they are able to remove Dumbledore from his position.”

Pomona threw her hands up in disgust, “They’re all in his pocket! This Board is nothing more than a bunch of lazy idiots who skim off the remainder of the school’s tuition for their own pet projects after Albus has already done the same.”

Percy spread his hands in defensive supplication, “Then, according to the contingency rules set in place for that very occurrence; you would need to contact the DMLE to inform them of what the Board is doing so they can be removed and new people put in place. Once that’s all done, then you can re-apply to have the Head removed.”

Severus pursed his lips and hummed, “What happens if the Head is arrested and subsequently convicted of a crime?”

“Then that act negates any ruling that the Board might come up with and automatically terminates the Head’s employment contract on the grounds that he or she is forbidden from doing anything that could bring serious disrepute to the image of the school.”

Filius mock-glared at both Minerva and Percy, “Why weren’t you sorted into my House with a memory like that? (At Minerva) Why do you get all the mis-sorted genius students?”

Percy shrugged and replied, “Have you met my mother?”

Minerva merely smirked in response to Filius’ lament. She pushed back from the table and rose to her feet. “I’ll need to contact Amelia forthwith. Mr. Weasley, you’re with me. Let’s see if we can’t get Albus out of here permanently.”

Once her call to Amelia was done, Minerva then contacted Whitehall. “Headmistress, allow me to formally apologize for any sort of grief that Albus has put you or your students through.”

Olivia smiled graciously. “Thank you, Minerva. I appreciate and accept your apologies. Are you still going to hold your Triathlon without him being there?”

“Yes, the staff and I have agreed that in an effort to distract the students from all of Albus’ embarrassment; it would be beneficial if the event continued. On that note, I would like to offer you a way to view the First Task without you needing to leave the safety of your school.”

Pleasantly surprised, Olivia accepted Minerva’s gift of a wall-sized communication mirror. “This is quite the gift, Minerva; thank you. So what, if any, changes have been made to the First Task?”

Minerva shrugged, “Well, instead of our Champions running a gauntlet that involves a parasitic species of Puffskein…”

“A what??” Olivia interrupted, yelping in surprise.

Scowling, Minerva explained that one of their Champions had discovered through his research of which creatures previous competitions usually entailed, it was revealed that Albus had imported a parasitical variant of the Puffskein from Colombia. “The young man in question, Percy Weasley then informed the other Champions as well as the senior staff. We were naturally incensed, I was all for disemboweling Albus for being so callous with his students’ lives, but settled for informing Director Bones who has since confiscated the creature.”

“How does a Puffskein become parasitical? What…how…never mind, please continue.”

Minerva sniffed, “At any rate, the Champions took it upon themselves to ask the teachers to come up with an obstacle course comprising of the different subjects that we teach instead. Since at least one Champion is a fourth year, we set the difficulty rating to that of our sixth year which should make it challenging enough without overloading anyone. They’ll be graded by the amount of time it takes to complete the Task with points taken away for various reasons like brute-forcing their way through, damage to the challenges, or to the castle itself.”

Impressed, Olivia said as much. “Now that’s a proper event I think my students and staff would like to see. I look forward to seeing you soon. Thank you, Minerva.”

Friday 25 November, 2022; Hogwarts/Whitehall via a wall-sized communication mirror

Harry wasn’t the only one who stared in awe at the mirror that now adorned one entire wall of the reconfigured cafeteria. “Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said ‘wall-sized’.”

Hermione agreed with him as she leant up against his side. “I know, right? Imagine if you could rig this thing to broadcast the news, sports, and other programs. Ooh, imagine if you could broadcast one of your fashion shows with this!” She giggled at Harry’s dopey glazed expression and clicked his mouth shut. “You’re drooling again.”

Harry turned his gaze to her, causing the girl to squirm under its ‘smoldering’ intensity. “It’s your fault, you know. You bring out the best and dopiest in me.”

Lavender lazily draped her arm over Hermione’s shoulders, “Aww, isn’t this sickeningly sweet? Why don’t you two finally admit that you’re in love and announce your wedding date so we can move on?”

On Harry’s other side, Kevin was cracking up at the huge blush that blazed to life on both kids’ faces.

“So does anyone know what this Task is going to feature?” Hermione asked as an attempt to wrest control over the embarrassing situation. She kept her eyes squarely focused on the mirror to keep her cheeks from reddening again, which they were guaranteed to do if she even attempted to look in Harry’s direction where she was sure he was doing the same thing (he was and it was the source of Kevin’s continuing amusement.)

“I heard it was a test of bravery and that each Champion had to tell a girl that yes, in fact that dress does make them look fat,” Kevin quipped mischievously as he poked Harry on the shoulder and silently made kissy-faces at his mildly reproving friend.

Harry playfully shoved Kevin’s arm, “That’s not bravery, that’s stupidity…which means it’s perfect for the Gryffindors.”

“Hey! We heard that!” They all looked up in surprise to see Fred and George Weasley (amongst a few other Gryffindors who were still trickling in) glare mock-seriously at them.

Kevin’s jaw dropped open, “Have you been able to hear us the entire time?”

Fred thumbed at the mirror, “Georgie, I’m starting to think that this youngin isn’t the brightest of the lot. (He turned back to the mirror) What do you think a communication mirror is supposed to do?”

For once, Kevin seemed at a loss for words before stammering out, “I… I thought it would’ve been set up to broadcast only one direction. It’s not like these things came with an instruction manual!”

Harry spotted Ron sitting quietly and surprisingly, reading a book. “Ron’s reading?”

George glanced back towards his younger brother. “Yeah, who’d have thought it, right? Ever since he discovered the textbooks you sent Neville Longbottom, Ronnie’s been a regular ‘Ravenclaw in red’ although I must admit that those books have done everyone around here a world of good.” Ron heard his name being mentioned and looked up. He spotted Harry waving at him and returned it with a sheepish grin of his own.

Harry snickered, “I’ve heard that Neville has his own class.”

Neville poked his head into the scene, “Hiya, Harry! I heard my name being mentioned?”

“How’re your classes going, Professor Longbottom?” Harry teased.

Neville grinned, “Splendidly. I’ve got a regular group of twelve from all the Houses that shows up nowadays.”

“Sweet, what’re you teaching?”

Neville shrugged, “It’s nothing groundbreaking. It’s just our class subjects through the eyes of a twelve-year-old. The way it’s set up is if I can understand the materials, I can teach it to others who’re also having difficulties figuring out what the teachers are talking about. It comes in handy after we get out of Lockhart’s class.”

“Why? What’s he like?” Lavender inquired.

“He’s utterly useless. He can’t cast with a wand without making outlandish flourishes; he misses what he aims at, and is apparently more interested in his minor fame than anyone I’ve ever met before.”

“Really? I heard he wrote a whole series of books. Does he teach out of the Whitehall texts or is he still using the old ones?”

“Oh, he teaches out of the new ones,” Neville answered, “But his teaching style, like his collection of alleged prowess in the field, is just terribly ridiculous. No one’s learning anything other than how to not approach a dangerous situation. His books are just as bad, if he actually managed to put a werewolf in a head lock like he claims in his book, Wanderings with Werewolves, and successfully cast the Hormorphus charm on it, I’ll snog Snape (The others gagged in disgust.) Last week, he set a flock of Cornish Pixies loose in the class then when they went berserk, he ditched us to go hide in his office.”

“How did you manage to capture the Pixies then?” Harry asked curiously.

Neville gestured towards Ron (whose face had turned a funny looking tomato red), “Ronald ‘Pixie Wrangler’ Weasley caught them by lighting a fire on his desk and bellowing out ‘Story time!’ to the buzzing flock. They swooped in and piled on top of one another to listen to whatever he might’ve said then Ron stunned the lot and helped us stuff them back in their cage.”

Both Fred and George were kowtowing to their younger brother, “Oh, Great Pixie Wrangler Ronald! Teach the unworthy your marvelous methods!” Kevin and Harry joined in on the cheering, bowing, and scraping at the thoroughly embarrassed preteen.

Ron swatted their hands away as they reached for him in supplication, “Lay off, you idiots. I just did what the books said to do.”

“Neville,” Hermione swung back to his original comment about teaching, “You’re not dumb. Why do you put yourself down like that?”

Neville shook his head, “You’re right, I’m not dumb and I didn’t mean for my explanation to come across that way. I just meant that sometimes the teachers use words that don’t make any sense and are usually too busy to answer all of our questions. What I provide is a simpler explanation and demonstration for whatever topic is at hand. Last week, I gave a demonstration on the properties of magnetic slime and how to make it ourselves.”

Fred hauled himself off the floor and clapped his hand on Neville’s shoulder, “If only we’d had such tutelage when we were young sprogs! We might’ve even paid attention in class.” Neville’s face pinked from the effusive praise. Fred then sought out Harry’s attention. “Oh, just a heads-up for you, Harry. Our little sister is quite taken with your mystique for reasons even we’re not sure about. Chances are likely that when she figures out that you’re able to see and hear her, she’ll attempt to woo you back to joining us here at ol’ Hoggy Hogwarts.”

Harry shook his head with exasperation, “Does this admiration have anything to do with my fashion skills or that ridiculous ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ nonsense?” All three boys grinned widely; their expressions alone clued those on the Whitehall side which one was the correct answer. Harry sighed, “Figures. One of these days, they’re just going have to get over that whole idiocy. Any heroics ought to be awarded to my parents seeing as how I was barely a year and a half old at the time.”

Neville cooed back, “Aww, is the mystical hero Harry Potter having image issues?” Harry ‘maturely’ stuck his tongue out at his friend who just laughed it off.

Their attention was diverted by the sight of Minerva approaching the podium. “May I have everyone’s attention? The First Task of the Hogwarts Triathlon is set to start in the next few minutes. To summarize what you’re about to witness, each Champion will enter the Third floor where they will have to figure out their way through an obstacle course that feature challenges from each subject that Hogwarts offers such as Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, and so on. The Task is timed, and each Champion will be graded in how fast they’re able to complete the course. Points will be taken away if they cause damage to the challenges within or the castle itself. Should a Champion be unable to make it through in a timely manner, such as getting stunned or inadvertently injured by a challenge; they will then be rescued by a staff member and have points docked accordingly.”

She waved her wand at the mirror which caused it to split into four sections, one showing the entrance to the Third Floor where the Champions had congregated. “For those who aren’t aware, this mirror is connected to three others. One is located here at Hogwarts and will follow each Champion as they navigate the Task. Another is located at Whitehall Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the third and fourth receiving mirrors are located in the Ministry Atrium and the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley.”

“If everyone is ready? Let the Hogwarts Triathlon begin!”

Gauntlet Start - Fluffy

The Champions drew their order by extracting a key from a bag. Percy was up first having drawn the ‘1’ key. Contrary to his Gryffindor upbringing, he didn’t just hare off without first considering the door in front of him. ‘I’ve been presented with a key that is meant to open this door. I have no idea what lies beyond it. I think my first step is to check for any enchantments or magical wards that might delay me.’

He scanned the area in front and to the sides of the plain door and concluded that it was clear. In that vein, he transfigured the stone wall into glass to allow him to see what lay beyond. To his mild horror, a triple-headed Cerberus hellhound was seen sniffing the confines of the room. Thinking fast, Percy pulled a quill out of his pocket and transfigured it into an ultra-large squeaky dog chew toy. He used the key to unlock the door which sent out an ungodly screech of noise from rusty hinges. The Cerberus whirled around and began lunging and barking madly at him. Percy threw the chew toy into the room and watched nervously through the transparent wall as one of the dog’s heads sniffed the toy curiously.

When it bit down on the toy causing it to squeak, the other two head swung around intrigued by the new noise. While the dog was busy arguing over who got to cause the toy to make noise, Percy skirted around the edges of the room then dashed over to the trapdoor in the middle. It was locked, but he shoved the key into the lock, swung open the door (again to a rusty shriek of noise) and practically threw himself down the hole.

Whitehall

“Pretty clever of him to use a chew toy,” Kevin cheered as Percy disappeared down the trapdoor. “The traditional method is to play music to calm the beast into taking a nap.”

Dean had joined them and agreed with his assessment. “We just learned about those creatures in Defense last week. Can you imagine the amount of slobber you’d have to put up with?” They heard laughter coming from both the other three feeds where they spotted Fred and George putting on some kind of crazy semi-synchronized cheerleading routine in favor of their older brother. Dean’s eyes lit up, “I’ll be right back, save my spot!” He dashed off out of the room to the mute confusion of the others at the table.

When Dean returned, he was carrying a wide bundle of paper which when he unfurled it, revealed itself to be a banner that announced itself as, “Dean Thomas’ Terrific Talking Texts.’ He tapped it with his wand, causing it to flash and chant, “People in the front: Let me hear you grunt! People in the middle: Shake it just a little! People in the back: Show us where you're at! People in the stands: Jump up and clap your hands! Go Weasley!"

Hogwarts

Both Twins stared in awe at Dean’s banner as it cycled through several different messages before giving a cheer in response. The two immediately set about trying to come up with something to compete with the younger wizard’s contribution. A couple of seventh year Gryffindors sent up sparklers and small fireworks until the Head Boy shut them down citing that they’d be a distraction from the main event.

A couple of the teachers noticed the banner (it was hard not to), and made a note to remember to speak with the lad about how he’d created such an advertisement despite being only a second year. Minerva subtly nudged Filius, “He was one of mine too.” She grinned at his pouting scowl.

Gauntlet – Devil’s Snare

Percy landed with a heavy thump into a pile of vines. It was pitch black in there, so dark in fact that he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. He could feel something slipping and sliding around him, so he pulled out his wand and lit it. He recoiled at the sight of the snaking vines that were insidiously making their way over to him. He noted that when the vines reached the edges of his wand light, they hesitated; poking around the perimeter looking for any breaks in the glare. ‘Devil’s Snare! What was it that Professor Sprout said was a good defense against it?’

One of the questing vines managed to sneak in and wrap around his ankle, causing him to yelp in surprise which forced more magic into his lighting charm. This in turn made the light brighter and push the vines back a bit. Percy promised himself that he would berate his stupidity later and held up his wand as he bellowed, “Lumos Solem!” A blinding ball of light pierced the darkness; the Devil’s Snare retreated with an almost imagined screech of pain from the sudden intrusion of sunlight.

Scrambling to his feet, Percy rushed out of the room.

While Percy was evading the Enchanted Keys Challenge; Ministry for Magic Atrium, at a café off the main hallway

Lucius Malfoy sipped on a cup of tea while Croaker and a couple of his Unspeakables watched the Triathlon proceed. Despite the assurances from the Director of the DoM that Lucius was being ‘volun-told’ to be the one to round up all of his Lord’s trinkets; he’d been treated like a colleague instead of a prisoner. Lucius was under no delusion that he could not relax and act as he normally would around his former compatriots, but still…his new working conditions while still within the Ministry were actually rather pleasant.

The group he was sitting with that morning had a privacy ward set up around their table so they could discuss the Horcrux Hunt without being overheard as well as enjoy some food and drink outside of their department. Lucius’ hearing picked up at the mention of a family name. “You’re talking about the Gaunts?”

Unspeakable 45 (Lucius never bothered with remembering their names) acknowledged him, “Yes, do you know of the family?”

Lucius sniffed disdainfully, “Of course I’ve heard of them; who hasn’t? They serve as a cautionary tale against breeding within your own family. Even the Black Family limited themselves to marrying third cousins which is still too close for my tastes. When the time comes, Draco will look for a suitable witch from the Continent or one of the Colonies.”

“Do you know if any of them still survive to this day?”

Lucius shook his head, “No, if I recall correctly from stories my father told me; the patriarch of the family was an inbred lunatic named Marvolo who died after a stint in Azkaban. He had a son named Morfin, also incarcerated for a time then mysteriously vanished, and a near-squib daughter named…Merope, I think. She too, died under mysterious circumstances according to my father.”

U45 pursed his lips and nodded slowly, “That tracks with our records as well. I had hoped we might be able to interview one or more of them for clues as to where their house is located. Our scrying attempts have narrowed it down to the Peak District National Park. We think it might be located near or in the town of Great Hangleton.

Lucius sighed as he put down his tea cup, “Which means I’m going to be heading out to take a walk soon. Joy, just what I need…a day traipsing around the backwoods of England and dodging muggles.”

U52’s smug grin set Lucius teeth on edge. Croaker laughed at his reaction. “Don’t forget the midges. I heard they’re out in force this season.”

Percy reaches the Chess room…

Despite all the action on the screen, Harry pulled out a pile of cloth and his sewing gauntlet to begin crafting something. Hermione idly noticed and nudged him gently, “What’re you going to make?”

“I’m going to make a carry case for Sophie’s tablet.”

Eyebrows furrowed, “Sophie? Who’s she?

Harry shook his head and smiled, “Sophie is Benjy Stanwyck’s older sister. Anyways, she’s always carrying it around without a protective case so I figured I could craft one out of random fabric scraps.”

“Where do I know that name from?” She wondered quietly.

“Benjy is in our Modern Studies class,” Harry supplied.

Hermione clicked her fingers, “Right! Now, I remember him. The boy who smells like strawberries.”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, he says it’s because his mum does the shopping and since he’s the only boy in the family, he gets what they all get; hence the strawberry scented shampoo.”

“His dad’s out of the picture?”

He shook his head, “No, military; shipped overseas somewhere.” Up on the screen, he spotted Ron starting to liven up as Percy made a move the younger redhead didn’t approve of. “Oh, this ought to be good. Ron’s a master at chess…” Sure enough, Ron’s complaining caught the attention of some of the adults. A redheaded man who resembled Ron yelled at him to stop cussing. “That must be Mr. Weasley. I heard that he’s in charge of the department that identifies illegally enchanted muggle artifacts the Aurors find in their seizures and raids.”

Lavender leant over to stage-whispered between them. “It is him, now be quiet. You’re being very distracting by getting all crafty with pretty fabric.” Harry crinkled his nose playfully at the suddenly haughty preteen girl.

Hogwarts – Ginny and Luna

Ginny couldn’t keep her eyes off the giant mirror. In one of the feeds sat none other than Harry ‘My Future Husband’ Potter! She repeatedly nudged Luna, “Oh my gods, there he is! Look! Look!”

Luna rolled her eyes at her friend’s antics, “I see him, Ginny; so what? He’s not that cute. Now Cedric on the other hand, yes…he’s quite dreamy looking.”

Ginny scoffed, “You’re telling me you wouldn’t love to have those mesmerizing green eyes staring into yours or have him make clothes for you all day?”

Luna shook her head, “I doubt he’d be able to match my style anyways. I’m much more of a free spirit according to Daddy.”

“Free spirit, she says. Luna, I’d even bet that you’d wander the hillsides naked if given the opportunity.”

Luna smiled serenely, “I’ve done that for the last Spring Solstice. It was very nice.”

Ginny shook her head at her friend’s audacity, “If my mum even thought I might do that, she’d never let me out of the house.”

Luna draped her arm around her friend’s shoulders, “Then you could run away and come live with me. I’d bet we’d be the best sisters to each other.”

Gently pushing the blonde out of her face, Ginny scrunched her nose up cutely, “I dunno. I can be pretty grouchy in the morning according to my dad. You’d probably drive me crazy within the first week.” A slight rumbling was felt beneath their feet causing both to glance down. “Do you suppose Percy’s underneath us now?” The rumble continued and picked up strength a bit.

Luna’s eyes grew distant as if she was listening to something (or someone) else. “No, that was the castle rearranging itself. There’s no cause for alarm.” Her voice sounded odd, as if it was two separate people speaking at once. She snapped out of whatever trance she’d been in. “What happened?”

Ginny eyed her oddly, “You said that the rumbling we felt was just the castle rearranging itself and that there was no cause for alarm in a really odd voice.”

Blinking owlishly, Luna finally snorted in relief, “Oh, that must’ve been the castle that spoke to you using me as a mouthpiece.”

“Weird that you were able to pick up on that,” the redhead observed.

“Not really, if you think about it. How else would the castle make itself understood without causing a scene by using her avatar? It doesn’t really matter, I was happy to help.” Up on the screen, Percy had managed to win the chess game and exit the room.

Later, at the end of the First Task…

Minerva took the podium to announce, “That was exciting, wasn’t it? Congratulations to each of our Champions for that wonderful performance. I think based on what I’ve seen; none of them will have anything to worry about when it comes time to take their OWLs or NEWTs. The scores thus far: in first place…Cedric Diggory who finished in twenty-five minutes and thirty seconds. In second place, Percy Weasley with fifteen seconds more. In third place, Cassius Warrington finished with twenty-six minutes and ten seconds; and in fourth place, Marcus Belby with his completion at thirty minutes and five seconds.”

She turned to face the other three feeds, “I wish to thank everyone at Whitehall, the Ministry for Magic, and the patrons at the Leaky Cauldron for their participation and energy to make this auspicious start to a brand-new tournament memorable. As a reminder, the Yule Ball will be held on Thursday 22 December, starting at five o’clock pm. If you or your family wishes to attend, please contact Professor Filius Flitwick here at Hogwarts. Thank you and have a wonderful day!”

The mirror faded back to its normal reflection of their cafeteria.

Hermione clapped her hands on her knees, “Well, that was exciting but now I think a loo run is in order. I’ll see you all later.” That said; she scurried out of the room ahead of the crowds.

The next day, outskirts of Peak District National Park

Once again, Lucius lamented his lot in life as he trekked through the underbrush within the Peak District National Park in search of some dinky little town with delusions of grandeur by naming itself ‘Greater Hangleton.’ “What in Slytherin’s name is a ‘Hangleton’ anyways? Why couldn’t they have picked a name more noble or (he’d just stepped in something nasty) somewhere more civilized?” He waved his wand at his shoe, scouring it from whatever the disgusting glop he really didn’t want to think about was.

It took him another four hours before Lucius chanced upon the town limits of his destination then another twenty minutes to locate Riddle Manor. He stared in disgust at the run-down appearance of what used to be a fine home for a clearly upper-class family. “How the mighty have fallen…”

“Can I help you with something?” A rusty voice broke Lucius out of his reverie. Shuffling up the footpath was an elderly man with a weather-beaten air about him. “Looking to find out more about what happened, are you?”

Lucius spared the man a brief look, “I’m trying to locate the home of the Gaunts and was told that this…house would be a good place to start.”

 “Ah, right; them…I know all about the Gaunts. Nasty pieces of work, if you ask me. Strange too, the son was always causing trouble or shooting off fireworks for the oddest reasons.”

Curious, Lucius turned to him, “That squares up with what I was told as well. Do you know where they might live or used to live?”

The man waved towards the road that headed away from town. “Take this road and keep going until you leave Greater Hangleton. It’s about a fifteen minute walk for someone as young as you. Keep going until you see a crossroad sign, one sign will point you back here, and the other will point to Little Hangleton. That’s the one you want. Once you’re on that path, keep going until you see a long line of bushes that give off a creepy sort of feeling like you’re being watched. Somewhere in that mess is the Gaunt shack. If it was me, I’d wait for the Royal Marines to back me up with heavy artillery.”

Lucius bowed his head stiffly in appreciation for the information. “Thank you, Mr?”

“Bryce. Frank Bryce. I’ve been the caretaker for the Riddles for nearly seventy years.”

Lucius frowned up at the derelict, “Even if they’re no longer here?”

Frank shrugged, “Got nowhere else to go. Family’s all grown up and moved out. Anyways, best of luck to you.” He tipped his hat and shuffled back down the footpath and ducked into a shed.

Sometime later…

Lucius finally reached his destination and sat down on a stump to cool his heels for a moment. He fanned his sweaty face and vowed to himself that once he was done hunting down all of his Lord’s Horcruxes, he’d leave Britain for somewhere far away where they’d never heard of Lord Voldemort, preferably with plenty of entertainment, both the scantily clad females and poker types.

Figuring that he’d best get started, Lucius poked around the bushes until he found a gap in the growth. He scanned the area and noticed that there were some ancient and decaying muggle avoidance wards barely in place. “Must be the place, ah yes… here we go.” Twenty feet further, he hit pay dirt. The shack, honestly that description could barely be used in its rawest form, was only standing because of a withered tree that grew out of the middle of the structure and poked up through the disintegrating roof.

“Hard to believe that the most powerful Dark Lord in recent history could trace his ancestry to this dump.” He scanned the area once more and grimaced as the grounds and building suddenly lit up with a wash of multi-colored lights indicating far more lethal results if disturbed. “Yeah, I’m calling this one in.”

As he backed up, Lucius accidentally triggered a perimeter ward that let off a titanic clap of thunder, blinding light, and a lancing sharp pain in his left leg as he fell to the ground. Struggling to sit up, he was horrified to discover that the ward had severed his leg from the knee down! The remaining stump was gushing blood and he knew that if he didn’t stop it at once, he’d bleed out in moments.

“Vulnus ligare!” A bandage wrapped up the stump of his leg, immediately turning red in contact with the wound. Twice more he did that spell coupled with the Slow Blood spell ‘tardus sanguine’ until, and with his head starting to spin, the blood loss slowed to a trickle. His next action was to grab the severed limb, pull out his emergency portkey, and activate it.

Department of Mysteries Infirmary

The Healers were alerted to the incoming emergency portkey mere seconds before Lucius’ unceremonious landing. They had him up off the floor and into a bed, scanning and issuing orders while shoving healing potions down Lucius’ throat before he could register the fact that he’d arrived safely.

Croaker arrived a little while later after Lucius had been stabilized and given a mild sedative to take the edge off his near-panic. “How’re you feeling?”

Lucius glared at him, “I’m taking the rest of the week off.” He flopped his head back onto the pillow, ignoring the Director who was chuckling ruefully at his behavior.

Algernon clapped the man on his arm, “Go ahead. You did remember to tag the Gaunt hovel, right?”

Lucius groaned, “No, I was a little busy try not to bleed out. Can’t you trace where the portkey left from?”

Algernon bobbed his head and scratched his chin, “Good idea. Alright, take some time to recover and I’ll see you on Monday.” He tipped the disgruntled blond with a jaunty wave and left.

Monday 28 November, 2022; Whitehall

Harry had been waiting for Hermione to arrive so they could get a jump on their shared assignment for their Ancient Runes class. His gaze swept the Reception Hall but couldn’t spot her signature bushy-haired mop thus he yelped in surprise when Hermione snuck up on him and blew in his ear. “Wha… Hermione? What did you do to yourself?!”

She stepped back grinning and fluffed up her much-shortened hair, “You like? I wanted to do something different instead of my usual bramble bush so I got it trimmed down a bit.”

Harry’s jaw was practically scraping the ground, “A bit? That’s what you call a ‘bit’? Nooo, you can’t do this to me, Hermione! I have entire wardrobes planned around that bird’s nest I fell in love with!” He draped himself dramatically over her shoulder and cried out to the universe about it being so unfair. He then gestured towards the rest of the outfit, “Is this one of mine? I don’t remember designing a shirt that showed off so much…that.”

Hermione giggled at his antics, “Silly boy. It’s just hair, it’ll grow back eventually. Anyhow, I like it. It’ll make getting ready to swim a lot quicker.” She glanced down at her neckline and gave the blushing boy a wink. “You like? Ever since the girls started growing in, I’ve been looking for something bolder.”

“It’s alright,” Harry harrumphed, not wanting to admit these strange new feelings seeing a bit of Hermione’s blossoming cleavage was doing to him. “What does Ix think of your new look?”

Ix took that moment to flame in and settle on Hermione’s shoulder. “It’s unusual but ultimately up to her. Like you, I’ll miss her bushy locks until they grow back in. Where is your portable nest?” Hermione pulled out her hoodie and threw it on, adjusting the hood portion so Ix could curl up in it. “That’s better. Oh, just so you know; I’ll be away for the better part of next month.” Curious, Hermione asked her where the immortal bird was going. “There are some things I need to accomplish in my home realm. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

“Phoenixes have a home realm?” Harry asked out loud.

Hermione shrugged slightly so as to not jostle Ix too badly, “Makes sense, phoenix are a member of the Fae race….” She broke off to listen to what Ix was saying, blushing for a moment before speaking again. “My mistake; Ix informed me that phoenixes have no direct connection to the Fae and while the phoenix possesses magical qualities, they’re not traditionally categorized as a Fae creature, and its origins and symbolism differ significantly from those of Fae beings.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that,” Harry pondered her answer. “You ought to write that down. You never know when it might come in handy.”

All through the day, Harry provided Hermione and her friends with a constant source of entertainment whenever they caught him mock-pouting at the loss of her bushy-haired status. To take his mind off her new look, he buried himself in his school work and a couple of new designs he’d come up with over the weekend.  Sally-Anne plopped down next to him at lunch and pointed at one sketch, “I like that one. Let me guess, you designed this for your girlfriend?”

Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Hermione is not my girlfriend! At least I don’t think she is.” He got a thoughtful look on his face, “Do you think she’d be my girlfriend?”

Sally-Anne shrugged then tugged off her left prosthetic to make an adjustment. “No clue, but she’d be crazy to say no. If she doesn’t say yes, I’m still available for you to fawn over.”

Harry smirked, “You’re way out of my league, Miss Perks. I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.”

His compliment set her cheeks aflame. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Harry. It’ll just make falling in love with you that much harder.”

He gave her a considering look, “You free this weekend? I’ve got a couple of outfits for the cybernetically-enhanced modern girl.”

“Cybernetically enhanced? You make me sound like I’m in Star Trek.” Sally-Anne grinned at his teasing, raising her arms as if she was trying to strangle him. “We are the Muggleborg! Resistance is futile!” She laughed, “To answer your question, I’m sorry but I’ve got an appointment for a bionic check-up.”

“Is it anything serious?” Harry asked with concern.

“Nah, it’s just like taking the family car in for a tune-up. I’ve been having this problem with my middle fingers being stuck in the upright position. I think it comes from flipping off the idiots who keep trying to annoy me.”

Wednesday 30 November, 2022; Gringotts Bank

Lucius was ‘back at work’ come Monday to figure out the next potential location for where a Horcrux might’ve been hidden away. Deciding to take a logical approach, he asked the question 'who besides him would Voldemort have entrusted his darkest secret with?' “My Master never told me what the Diary really was, so how likely would it have been for anyone to have figured it out?”

Croaker found him in the department’s breakroom, staring distantly at the far wall and idly stirring a cup of tea. “Problem?”

“I’m trying to figure out who else in Voldemort’s Inner Circle might’ve been gifted one of his Horcruxes.”

Croaker conjured up a mug and poured himself some of the tea, “Quite the issue. Who’ve you got that springs to mind first?”

Lucius huffed, “Bellatrix would be the best bet. I’m just not sure if she would’ve stored it in a place of honor in her home or squirreled away in her vault. Either way, it’ll be a challenge getting in there to check.”

“Her home ought to be easy. Aren’t you added into the ward book?”

Lucius shook his head and took a sip of the lukewarm tea, “No idea. The last time either of us saw each other was right before He went to go deal with the Potters. If I remember correctly, the two of us were throwing insults at each other.”

“Isn’t that normal between you two?” Croaker teased.

“You’d think, but no; she was keyed up beyond normal that evening. I think she’d wanted to go with him but was told instead to stay put.”

“Ah…yeah, she was probably acting like a jealous girlfriend. Well, I can send a team to search her house while you go deal with the Goblins,” Croaker offered.

Lucius scowled as he rose to his feet, he hated being near those beasts. “I’d love to know who it was that thought ‘Oh, let’s put our mortal enemies in charge of our family wealth’ was a good idea.”

Later…

“Teller Ironhand, I am here to speak with the Malfoy Account Manager as soon as possible,” Lucius drawled in a superior tone.

Ironhand returned that sneer with one of his own. ”You do not have an appointment.”

“This matter appeared suddenly. It concerns a question of monumental importance and could result in the Nation reclaiming what was stolen by Bellatrix Lestrange.”

That got Ironhand’s attention. He closed out his post and motioned for Lucius to follow him. When they arrived at Account Manager Chalkdust’s office, he banged on the door. “Come in!” Ironhand opened it, stuck his head in and said something in their native tongue (which sounded more like dogs barking to Lucius) before stepping back to let the blond wizard to enter. “Lord Malfoy, what is this I hear of information that Bellatrix Lestrange stole something that belongs to our fair nation?”

“I have been tasked with the monumental goal of tracking down a… artifact that the Dark Lord used to prolong his life should his body ever be destroyed,” Lucius began.

Chalkdust interrupted him with a roar, “That bastard created a Horcrux?!”

“Oh, good you understand. It’s come to the attention of the Department of Mysteries that Bellatrix might’ve stored one of those artifacts here in her vault. I was hoping you’d be able to let me in to check, if not actually remove it to be destroyed. In recompense, I’ve been authorized to return everything she once owned in her vault back to you regardless of who actually made or bought it.”

Chalkdust eyed him shrewdly, “Why are you doing this, Lord Malfoy? I’ve never thought of you as being altruistic.”

Lucius shifted uncomfortably, “My wife discovered that I once owned and used another of our Lord’s Horcruxes in the hopes of discrediting another wizard’s reputation. As my punishment, I was tasked by not only my wife, but also the Department of Mysteries and the DMLE to hunt down and locate each of these…things. I will not be the one to do the actual elimination, but I’m sure I can get permission for an emissary of your choosing to witness the event.”

Chalkdust scowled, his non-human features twisting in an animalistic way, “Just how many of these foul things did that bastard make?”

“According to the Unspeakables, Riddle was going for a seven Horcrux goal.”

“Riddle? Seven?! ” Goblin eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who’s that?”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle is the Dark Lord’s birth name and is an anagram of ‘I am Lord Voldemort’.” Lucius explained briefly. “According to the Unspeakables, seven was his goal but only managed to create five at the time of his downfall.”

Chalkdust snorted at hearing that. “I will take your offer to the Director. Wait here.” He got up and left Lucius to sit alone.

When the Goblin returned, he was joined by the Director of the bank plus a phalanx of guards. “Lord Malfoy, you intrigue me with your offer to hand over the contents of the Lestrange vault in return for taking a Horcrux off our hands.”

Lucius waited without saying anything, an action that the Director seemed pleased to note. “To that, I agree with your suggestion of sending someone to witness its destruction. I shall send Chalkdust with you to verify the completion of this task. In the meantime, Chalkdust; coordinate with the Lestrange Account Manager to oversee the liquidation of the vault. Make sure everything is accounted for and checked for any sorts of illegal enchantments. Finally, send a letter to Mrs. Lestrange informing her of the vault’s closing citing policy violations.” He turned and left the office without another word or gesture of goodwill.

The cart ride down was its usual hair-raising adventure, prompting Lucius to turn an interesting shade of green. Once the Goblins got the vault door opened, a Dark Object detection charm was used. A modest-sized chalice sitting on a shelf near the back of the room lit up in a soft golden glow. It was levitated over and dumped into a lead strongbox and handed over to Chalkdust. “The rest of this will be checked then disposed of.”

“I’m surprised you were able levitate the chalice at all. I detected a couple of Bella’s signature anti-magic charms in there.”

Chalkdust shrugged unconcernedly, “Goblin magic is different.”

When Lucius returned to the DoM, he was accompanied by Chalkdust and one heck of a tale to tell. Croaker bobbed his head sagely then ushered them all down to the Veil of Death where the chalice was unceremoniously chucked into the arch. They all watched as it sailed through then clanged when it hit the floor on the other side. Chalkdust frowned mightily, “Did it not work?”

An Unspeakable bent down to pick up the chalice, “It did. The ancient magic of the Veil is only concerned with the transference of a soul, if one is present. The container in which it lay is immaterial and discarded afterwards.” He handed the cup back to Croaker.

Algernon examined the cup and let out a low whistle, “I think this might be the lost Cup of Helga Hufflepuff! I’ll get this checked over and if possible, return it to Hogwarts where it belongs.”

Wednesday 14 December, 2022; DMLE Holding Cells

Minerva finally decided she’d put visiting Albus off long enough and traveled down to the DMLE to speak with her hopefully, soon-to-be former boss. He looked up hopefully at her appearance, “Minerva! It’s wonderful to see you; would you be a dear and get these fools to let me go?”

Minerva was unmoved, “That’s not going to happen, Albus. I just stopped by to see if you were ready to give up your obsession with Harry Potter and focus on your job as Headmaster.”

Albus looked away, “I have too much to accomplish and the boy is central to those plans.” He turned back, “It’s my school. I should be there.”

“Then you should’ve thought of that when you started this quixotic foolishness! If you really cared about Hogwarts and the students and staff, you would give this ‘quest’ of yours and do the job you were hired for.” She glared at his serenely smug expression. “You know, I’ve been thinking that maybe you’re still overworked with your two remaining positions as Headmaster and Chief Warlock. I wonder if perhaps I should bring up my concerns with Griselda and Amelia about removing you from one or both.”

That got a response. Albus roared, “Only the Board of Governors can remove me from Hogwarts and I own them! I have too much political capital, and know where the proverbial skeletons are buried, for the sheep in the Wizengamot to pass any sort of ruling that would go against me completing my plans for the Greater Good.”

A cultured eyebrow of hers rose defiantly. “The Greater Good? Whose Greater Good would that be, Albus? Society’s or yours? I too, know some secrets. Secrets about you and your relationship with Gellert Grindlewald with whom you came up with this idiotic notion that the muggles and the world needed to kneel under your shared leadership. I also now know it was you who mentored the boy who would become the most feared Dark Lord in recent memory to ravage this country, wiping out those Families who would dare to oppose your proposed legislation.”

“If you knew, why didn’t you speak up?” Albus sneered at his Deputy.

“I kept quiet because I hoped that you would reign in that monster quickly after the first of the Families were slaughtered; but I failed to intervene in time because we were suddenly swamped with internal issues. Issues I’m left wondering if you created them to keep me distracted.”

She pulled herself upright and shot him with one of her patented McGonagall Level 10 Glare of Doom which would’ve reduced an ordinary man to cinders and only a pair of boots trailing purple smoke, but Albus remained unaffected. “I pray that when your conviction is upheld and you receive your sentence, that you begin to understand the true meaning of the Greater Good.”

After Minerva left the DMLE, she took the time to locate where Whitehall was and requested permission to speak with their Headmistress. Olivia greeted her and escorted her into their Reception room. She grinned at the dumbfounded expression on Minerva’s face as the elder Scotswoman took in the sheer amount of space and the modern look of her school. “Pretty neat, huh? This is just the Reception room where the students arrive and get cleared by security. We have platforms for apparition, portkey, and for those rare cases, elf-transport.”

Minerva turned curiously, “I thought this school catered only to the muggleborn and raised, when did your students gain access to elves?”

Olivia patted her on the arm, “When we were suddenly inundated with the Hogwarts Transplants. Come on, I’ve got a lot more to show you.”

Like everyone else who’d arrived via the Hogwarts Transplant group, as well as Petunia and Vernon Dursley; Minerva was having her own moment of realization that Hogwarts was far from being the best school in all of Britain. It wasn’t just the clear-as-day lighting (which was appreciated); it was the sheer amount of educational advancements that made the woman wonder if she’d hit her head and was experiencing the effects from a concussion. She peeked in one classroom to watch as a potions teacher demonstrated how to brew a batch of something called ‘Pepto Bismol’ for upset stomachs. In a Transfiguration class, she witnessed a student give their report on altering the properties of bamboo to have the same tensile strength as high-quality alloy steel.

“This…is impressive,” Minerva whispered so to not interrupt the student’s report. She watched as the student demonstrated on a sample of ordinary bamboo then passed around the transfigured material. It still looked and felt like bamboo, but she was now unable to break it with her bare hands. “I fear it’ll take Hogwarts many generations before we’re even close to matching what Whitehall already experiences.”

Olivia led her out of the classroom and back onto the rest of the tour, “I don’t think you should worry about matching us. Hogwarts fills a necessary niche within Britain. Where we cater to those born of non-magical parents, you cater to those who were magically born. Your society knows and understands the concept of a magical castle and the grounds upon which it sits. You don’t have to explain anything that happens there to the parents or the students; they get it from the moment you say ‘At Hogwarts’.”

The tour eventually ended with the pair in Olivia’s office where libations were shared. Minerva’s head was still spinning from the experience when she ventured an idea. “Now that Albus is out of the castle and unlikely to get out anytime soon, I was hoping that you and your school would consider joining us up at Hogwarts for our Yule Ball celebration and festivities.”

Olivia blinked in surprise, “Would Hogwarts be able to handle all of us?”

Minerva nodded resolutely, “Easily. The school was originally designed to house, educate, and feed up to ten thousand students and staff. I don’t think our enrollment has ever reached that number, but I’ve been told that there are entire wings within the castle for such accommodations hidden away.”

Olivia faltered for a moment, “Personally, I think it sounds like a grand idea and one I would provisionally accept. I will need to announce this to the school first though. When will this Ball take place?”

“Twenty-second of this month at five pm. I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to make sure that Albus would remain in custody.”

Checking her calendar, Olivia promised to make the announcement as soon as she received word from her staff if they were interested. “I’ll also ask a few of the parents to see if they’d be willing to chaperone.”

Minerva smiled, “Wonderful. I hope we can get together and enjoy a pleasant evening of dancing and merriment.”

A week later, Albus had his day in court. To his utter shock, the Wizengamot found him guilty of the charges laid against him and sentenced him to six months in the medium-security wing of Azkaban (Dementor patrols twice a week.) What really hurt was when they stripped him of his two remaining positions of influence as Headmaster and Chief Warlock.

As he was escorted out of the courtroom, his dark glare of retribution sent chills down the spines of everyone present. Many of those there immediately made plans to strengthen their protective enchantments around their homes and update their ward books.

Algernon Croaker watched dispassionately as Albus passed by him with only the barest hints of a triumphant smirk on his face. “Serves him right, the arrogant bastard.”

Lucius was standing next to him, with a look of smug satisfaction on his face too. “I’ve had dreams about this day for years. So what’s next for him? I’m assuming you’ve got something sneaky in mind to add onto his punishment.”

Croaker laughed, “I must be getting old if I’m that predictable. True, I do have something in mind to keep him from getting too big for his britches after he’s released, assuming he survives that long.”

Lucius waited impatiently. “Well? What is it?”

Algernon waggled his finger reprovingly, “That’s my secret. I don’t want to spoil the surprise for later.”

After Lucius wandered off to do some more research into who else from ‘the old crowd’ might have possession of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes, Algernon paid a visit to the Dursleys and Harry Potter. He placed a box down on their coffee table and motioned for Harry to open it. Inside the box lay a orb about the size of a large-ish apple. The orb’s interior was filled with a white smoke that swirled around.

Harry tilted his head curiously, “What is it?”

“That’s what is known as a Prophecy Orb. This one in particular should be of interest to you since it was told to a Seer a couple of months before you were born.”

Vernon shared a glance with his wife. “How do you know it involves Harry?”

“Because our records indicate that the message speaks of a child born as the seventh months dies. Mr. Potter was born at the end of July. Now, ordinarily only the person who is the subject of a prophecy as well as the persons who spoke it and heard it, respectively are able to remove it from the shelf it normally sits on, but here’s a little secret… (He leant in as if to whisper something of monumental importance) we only tell people that so we aren’t inundated with nosy politicians and other idiots looking to score something ‘cool’ for their offices.”

Vernon and Harry laughed while Petunia looked skyward for Divine Intervention. “Heaven help me from the male mentality.”

Croaker wiped his eyes as he finished laughing, “At any rate, Mr. Potter; to hear the message, just tap the orb with your wand and push in a bit of magic. Then if you need to stop it or play it back, just give it another tap.”

Harry glanced over at his aunt and uncle then used his wand to tap the glass orb. "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..."

When it finished, silence reigned in the Dursley living room. Vernon shook his head, “Who were the other two people involved with this?”

Algernon checked his notes, “It was Spoken by Sybil Patricia Trelawney and heard by Albus Dumbledore.”

Petunia made a noise in her throat, “Figures it would be that old goat.”

Harry had his ‘I’m thinking, disturb me at your own peril’ face on. After a long moment of silence, he made an indecipherable noise, “Well, I’m not going to let this rule my life. What do you need from me?”

Vernon looked proud at his nephew, “Why do you feel that way, Harry?”

Harry gestured to the orb, “It doesn’t specify me directly. Not once did I hear, ‘Harry Potter needs to do X for Y reasons.’ It just says that someone born in July to parents who defied a Dark Lord three times is supposed to have the power to defeat said Dark Lord. As far as I’m concerned, that could be anyone.”

Croaker pondered that, “Then how do you account for the section where you or whoever was ‘marked as his equal’?”

Harry’s shoulders slumped, “Yeah, I forgot about that part. Damn…”

Petunia’s face brightened, “Oh, what if it’s in relation to his fame? Let’s assume that this Dark Lord is Dumbledore for argument’s sake. Dumbledore has been given adulation and fame for so long that it’s gone to his head; he thinks he can do no wrong. Harry, on the other hand, also has fame because of that scar. It’s part of his brand logo and until it was removed, part of his identity yet during all of that, he’s remained humble.”

“What about the part about having a power the Dark Lord doesn’t know?” Vernon pressed.

Petunia let out a sharp snort, “Harry’s got us to keep him grounded. You and I both know how he gets whenever his ambitions start to run away with his excitement.” Vernon laughed at some memories that floated up.

“And that Voldemort person?” Harry asked Croaker, “What happened with him?”

Algernon soberly replied, “Well, according to the prevailing theory, your mother killed him that fateful Halloween 2011. That unfortunately, wasn’t entirely true. What is true is that she used a sacrificial ritual that banished him to a wraith-like state which then fled the scene. At some point, he met and possessed a young Hogwarts professor who was exploring near the woods where Voldemort had been hiding. After you and your compatriots left Hogwarts, the primary form of his soul disappeared. We’re not sure where or when it went, all we know that it’s gone for good. The problem is that he created some things known as Horcruxes which were used to house parts of his soul separate from the main piece. Those are the things my department is hunting down so we can destroy them.”

Vernon was idly scratching his chin as he tried to puzzle everything out. “Maybe this thing is why Dumbledork’s been the way he is. He keeps trying to get Harry to act according to his script. This thing talks of vanquishing, dying at the hand of the other; neither one living while the other survives. It strikes me as all so thrilling to someone at the end of their life desperate for one last Grand Adventure before moving onto the next life.”

Algernon spread his hands, “It’s as good a guess as any at this time.”

“Maybe not,” Harry began then shook off a weird feeling. “What if when Dumbledore heard this being spoken, he realized that it was talking about him yet he refused to accept that he might be Dark? He’s supposedly spent his entire life acting like a Leader for the Light, only to be foretold that everything he’s publically worked for is just a lie. I think he pushed this Dark Lord of prophecy onto Voldemort because he was an easy scapegoat and bogeyman hiding under the bed so he can continue lying to himself.”

Both Petunia and Vernon looked proud at his logical reasoning. Petunia drew him into a hug, “That was very insightful, Harry.”

Harry squirmed out of her embrace, trying to (and failing) to remain appearing ‘grown-up.’ “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not going to let this thing rule my life.”

Algernon pulled a scroll and pen out of his pocket and laid it on the table. “That’s a good philosophy to follow, Mr. Potter. That being said, it would make me and my department feel a lot better if you would sign this contract allowing us to act as your ‘Hand’ to hunt down and destroy Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and Albus’ reputation if necessary.”

After both Vernon and Petunia read through and approved the wording of the contract, Harry picked up the pen and signed his name. “Good luck and good hunting, Director.”

Thursday 22 December, 2022; Hogwarts Yule Ball

Vernon swayed uneasily on his feet as the portkey magic released him, Petunia, Dudley, and Harry when they arrived at the designated spot. His stomach was equally queasy, “I don’t feel so good.”

“Here, take this. Not everyone is accustomed to the swirling effects of a portkey.” The school’s Matron, Poppy Pomfrey stated as she handed over a Stomach-Soother potion. “Once you’re done with that, I’ll take the bottle and hand you off to your escort, Professor Flitwick.” The diminutive man smiled pleasantly.

Harry grinned widely at his former professor, “Professor Flitwick!”

“Hello, Mr. Potter and welcome back to Hogwarts. I hear you’ve been making waves at your new school.”

Harry bobbed his head excitedly, “I love Whitehall. You ought to come around someday. We’ve got stuff that’d make your head spin with the possibilities.”

Flitwick chuckled at Harry’s enthusiasm. “All in due time. This way, please.”

Great Hall…

The Great Hall’s interior had been massively redecorated to resemble an ice castle complete with falling enchanted snow that vanished before it reached the ground, live fairies darted around the rafters amongst the holly wreaths, and even the tables and chairs were made to look like they’d been carved from solid ice. Petunia’s expression turned teary, “I never thought I’d ever get to see Hogwarts. This is so overwhelming.”

Harry had spotted Sirius and Remus hovering around a couple of professors and other dignitaries. They waved briefly when he tried to get their attention. Scanning further, he saw Pansy Parkinson slipping the contents of a potion into the punch bowl and made a mental note to stay far away from it. He caught her eye and motioned curiously at what she’d done. Pansy moved up alongside him and whispered that it was a harmless potion that would cause everyone to have gas. Harry laughed, “You’ve been hanging around Professor Longbottom too much.”

Pansy’s eyes glittered, “Professor Longbottom? Does he know you call him that?” When he nodded, she cackled, “I’ll need to remember to call him that in public. I want to see his reaction. I bet it’ll be something cute.”

Dudley nudged Harry, “Twin trouble at four o’clock.”

Harry turned barely in time before a pair of redheads tackled him, hoisting him off his feet while dancing like a couple of hyperactive lunatics. “Harryikins has returned! Hogwarts can rejoice now that our Lord and Savior has returned to our hallowed halls!”

“Put me down, you lunatics! I’ve missed you too as strange as that sounds,” Harry laughed over their antics. He smoothed down his clothes once he regained his feet. “There! Now, where is everyone else?”

George gestured lazily off towards the Grand Staircase, “Last we saw of the second years you'd remember, Neville and Ron are still up in Gryffindor Tower. Ginny and her friend Luna got themselves sorted into Hufflepuff and the rest are who-knows-where.”

Dudley was eyeing Fred, “I heard you guys like to pull pranks on everyone.”

Fred buffed his nails on his shirt, “We’ve been known to pull a joke every now and then. Why do you ask?”

Dudley checked on his parents’ attention then pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it over. “I’ve got a box of really neat things you can use. Harry shrunk it down for me so all you need to do is reverse it. Keep it hidden for now; if my parents find out about it, they’ll know I was responsible.”

The box disappeared into Fred’s robe without a second’s thought. He gave Dudley a sly wink, “Your secret is safe with us. Now, stop wasting your time with us old fogies and go enjoy yourselves.”

While everyone was dancing and having a good time…

Azkaban as always, was a dark and forbidden place where hopes and dreams went to die. The rocky island on which the prison sat was utterly devoid of life. Not even lichen grew on the rocks along the shoreline. The underwater landscape was equally devoid of life. It was as if everything with the ability as being classified as ‘alive’ had been sucked clean by a cosmic vacuum cleaner. The stark grey granite walls loomed out of the rocky beach like a monument to some forgotten unforgiving god.

In stark contrast to the desolate wasteland, safely tucked away in the warden’s office, there was still a small amount of activity. The Aurors on duty were sorting through the incoming mail. One held up an official looking letter from Gringotts, “Hey, this is different.”

Ordinarily, prisoners in the maximum security wing were not allowed any sort of gifts, newspapers, or letters. So when the guard slipped an envelope into Bellatrix’s cell, she stared at it in confusion before snatching it up, and began reading the contents. Off in another cell, Rookwood began softly singing a carol despite that New Year’s was still a week away.

“To Mrs. Lestrange…blah, blah, blah… Your vault has been closed due to a gross policy violation?! Section number who cares… the storage of Class Two Dark Objects, namely a golden chalice bearing the badger insignia of Helga Hufflepuff. No! My Master trusted me with that cup! Those dirty beasts are going to do what?!” She screeched frantically, banging her fists ineffectually against the walls.

Bellatrix’s anger and rage against those who would destroy her Master’s treasures built up so high and fast until it practically rent the air and protective enchantments of her cell as well as the cells adjacent to hers. The walls cracked and crumbled, cell doors sprung open, and alarms blared. In the chaos, several prisoners managed to escape their confinement only to be presented with a new, and final, challenge. Floating before them was a phalanx of Dementors…and they were hungry.

Bellatrix never noticed until it was too late when one Dementor silently slipped through the open cell door. She let out a scream of anguish as it grabbed her by her hair, tipping her head back, and gave the Dark Witch a little Kiss. In her fading awareness, Bellatrix could still hear Rookwood singing, “Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Yule Ball Shenanigans, Snakes, and Rat Traps

Thursday 22 December, 2022; Still at the Yule Ball, just after Harry’s interaction with Fred and George

Harry watched the pair of redheads suspiciously as they wandered over to where their dates were huddled around the dessert table. He pulled his wand and cast a couple of detection charms he’d learned in school and sighed in relief when he came back clean. He motioned at Dudley, “You want me to check you over as well?”

Dudley nodded, “Yes, thank you. You’ve had experience with them before?”

Harry grimaced at the memory and replied that in his short time as a Hogwarts student, the twins had targeted him on a number of times. “Nothing really bad, just annoying. I’m surprised you gave them that box of pranks. That’s like throwing petrol on a fire.”

“I had to get rid of it and figured that if they got caught with it, I couldn’t be blamed.” When Dudley too came up clean, both boys surveyed the room to figure out their best route to see everything. “I’ll start left, you go right?”

Harry sheathed his wand, “Good idea. Have fun. I’m going to go play my favorite game of ‘Who’s wearing my line’.” He gave his cousin a friendly fist-bump and mingled with the crowds. ‘Someone’s wearing Louis Vuitton, a couple of mine, ooh a Balenciaga, is that a De la Renta… no, it’s just a knock-off. Unknown, unknown…oh, they must be from magical designers.’ He spotted some of the girls who’d modeled for him huddled in a corner, their squeals of excitement about girly stuff echoing off the rafters above. Stopping briefly to swipe a glass of Butterbeer from a passing elf (whom he thanked), he noticed Millie Bulstrode kind of acting like a wallflower two tables over and made his way over. “Hey, Millie. What’s wrong?”

Millie smiled sadly, “My date stood me up.”

Harry held up his fists and put on his best Bert Lahr voice, “Which one of those scoundrels was it? I'll fight them together if you want. I'll fight him with one hand tied behind my back. I'll fight him standing on one foot. I'll fight him with my eyes closed...” By the end of his paraphrasing, Millie was clutching her sides giggling in stitches of laughter. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder, “Seriously, who was the idiot who stood you up?”

Millie scowled, “It was Theo Nott.”

Harry snorted, “So I guess the date was Nott happening.”

Millie let out a groan. “That was a terrible pun, Harry.”

He gave her a cheesy smile that started another round of giggles. “Listen; I’ve got an idea. I saw a combined group of Whitehall and Hogwarts girls over in the Reception room (he thumbed in the direction of the adjacent room through an open door to the chattering cluster of preteen girls.) You and I both know just how devastating such a group can be, especially when it comes to tearing down a boy’s reputation. Why don’t you and I mosey over and unleash the Goddesses of Gossip?” He gestured at her gown and winked conspiratorially, “Love the outfit by the way. Do I know who the designer is?”

A wide grin spread across her face as she coyly nodded her head, “Yeah, I think you’ve heard of him.”

Next door to the Great Hall…

The two approached the group of girls where Harry bowed as he’d been taught. “Ladies! Good evening. Listen, have any of you seen Miss Parkinson? I was told she was here.”

Pansy gave him a sardonic snort of derision and crossed her arms over her chest haughtily. “I’m standing right here, you prat.”

Harry laid a hand over his chest in mock-surprise then gave her a pompous courtly bow. “Well, consider me surprised! I had no idea that you could look even more beautiful than you normally do.”

The girls all giggled at his over-the-top performance. Pansy playfully swatted him on the arm. “Silly boy. Should you be putting the moves on me? I thought you and Granger were an item.”

Harry snickered at her response then shrugged at her question. “It does seem like that, doesn’t it?  But I haven’t asked her to be anything more than just my friend and let’s face it; I’m only twelve, which according to my aunt and uncle is way too young to be considering getting involved with dating anyone. So? Let’s see what you’ve got on.” He twirled his finger at her, prompting her to spin in place. He smiled proudly, “This is definitely one of mine.”

Pansy beamed with happiness, “It is, and I couldn’t be more in love with the way it makes me look and feel older with the sweetheart bustline and the way the backing sweeps up like a pair of angel wings.”

Tracey Davis dryly commented that she liked the way the skirt material was transparent enough to see a hint of Pansy’s legs. “It draws attention away from that nose of hers.”

Everyone present gasped at hearing that. Pansy however, giggled and shared a squeeze with the unrepentantly grinning blonde girl. “I know, right? I think I was booped on the nose too often growing up and that’s why it’s shaped the way it is.” Tracey demonstrated by ‘booping’ her friend on the nose.

Harry flicked a disappointed finger between the two. “This was rehearsed, wasn’t it? It feels like this is some sort of cheesy stage play.” Both girls smiled broadly and bobbed their heads at the same time, making Harry roll his eyes. “Girls… Anyway, Pansy; nice choice of color too, I’m surprised you didn’t go with something that matched your name.”

Pansy shrugged, “I couldn’t find anything in your catalog, and I was too afraid to try to magically change it in fear of damaging the outfit.”

Harry cocked his head, “It shouldn’t be a problem. (He turned his head slightly) Sun…” Sunny popped in holding up a copy of Pansy’s gown. Harry snorted and waggled his finger at her, “One of these days, I’m going to figure out how you elves manage to do that. Thank you.” Sunny pinched his cheek cutely then popped away amidst the laughter of the girls. He pulled his wand and cast the color-changing charm on the dress making it go from a lighter shade of pink to a tri-color mix of pale pink, gold, and purple. He gave the intrigued girls a curious look. “It seems to be holding up just fine.”

“How long do your charms usually last for?” Pansy asked him as she fingered the sample gown and her own.

“Couple of hours. It ought to be enough to get you through the Ball without any issues.”

 “Oh, mine don’t last that long. I’m lucky if I can get the charm to last fifteen minutes.”

“You want me to change it?” he asked, brandishing his wand again.

Pansy thought about it then shook her head, “Maybe another time, thanks. I like this pink color too so it’s not a problem.”

Harry didn’t even bother to call out Sunny’s name as the dress vanished from his hand. “I love that elf. Listen, the reason I’ve brought Millie over is because she’s experiencing idiot boy problems. Theo Nott dared to stand this lovely image of girlhood up to do who-knows-what.”

The other girls gasped and growled their displeasure. Millie’s hand was taken as she was whisked away for a group consult. In the meantime, Tracey looped her arm around Harry’s. “I’ll find out the particulars later. I’m glad you’re here, Harry as I’ve been standing here for the longest time and no one’s asked me to dance yet.” She dragged him back into the Great Hall onto the dance floor and stared at him expectantly. Up on the stage was the night’s live music talent, an all-girl music band of some group he’d never heard of named ‘Unicorn Armada’ were warming up for the night. “What, they didn’t teach you to dance at that fancy school of yours?”

Harry’s small smile grew larger as he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her in close causing her to gasp slightly. “No, we never bothered to learn how to dance at Whitehall. However, I learned firsthand from the ladies of the royal courts and high-society fashion after parties. Wait here a moment.” He hurried over to the band’s lead guitarist and whispered something in her ear. The young woman nodded then motioned to the others. When he returned to Tracey’s side, he gave her a mischievous look. “You ever dance West Coast Swing?” A thumpy song began beating out a tempo you couldn’t help but move your body to. Tracey’s eyes were wide as she shook her head no.

Harry’s moves were fluid and clearly practiced. Tracey watched with intrigue, this freeform style of dancing with its fast footsteps, slides, wiggles, and dips were far from the rigid and boring ‘traditional’ dances she’d grown up with. Off to the side, Pansy and her friends stood there with open-mouthed amazement as they watched Tracey get the thrill of a lifetime.

Hermione, Sally-Anne, Lavender, and a couple of the other Whitehall girls had joined Pansy and her group when they filtered back into the Great Hall to watch Harry dance with Tracey and were swept up in the plot to engineer Theo’s social downfall. Lavender nudged Daphne Greengrass who was standing there in open-mouthed shock, with a teasing look on her face. “You look like the Goblins have just handed you the keys to Merlin’s vault.”

Sally-Anne giggled at her friend’s jest. “Lavender, go easy on the poor girls. They’ve obviously never had the opportunity to witness Harry do his thing.”

Pansy turned to the still grinning girl, mystified by what she was witnessing. “I knew he was talented in fashion, but this?” She gestured helplessly at the dancing duo attempting the Lindy Hop (it wasn’t easy since Harry couldn’t lift Tracey high enough to do a proper flip.) “How long has he been able to dance like that? How long have you all known about this?”

Hermione snorted, “You’ve been to his after parties, right? He’s always out on the floor dancing the night away.”

Pansy scoffed, “I’ve seen him dance, yes; but never like this!” She and the other Slytherins eagerly made plans to make sure they each got a dance with him.

The Whitehall girls shrugged while Sally-Anne casually remarked, “I can understand why he doesn’t pull out the stops after his shows. If I was in his shoes, I’d be exhausted and just want to crawl into bed.”

“Is this the line to dance with Harry Potter?” a tremulous voice behind them caused the group to turn around, revealing Ginny standing there with a look of longing on her freckled face.

Hermione smiled at the eager look on the younger redhead’s face, “There’s no line per se, but that’s a good idea; especially since I know that Harry’s going to be really popular tonight. What’s your name?”

“Ginny Weasley.”

An eyebrow rose, “Weasley? Just how many are there of you?”

Ginny smirked and crossed her arms over her chest proudly. “Seven children in total. I’m the youngest, last, and only girl of the group.”

“So the best and brightest, eh?” Lavender joked as she took in the younger girl’s defiant stance. “The Family magic was worn out copying all those boys so it decided to start fresh, right?”

Ginny’s eyes reflected a steely glint, “You better believe it. Even the twins don’t dare to rile me up. Ever see what happens when you annoy a badger long enough? You do so at your own peril.”

“Lucky you. I wish I had siblings that I could blame things on,” Hermione playfully groused then nudged Lavender who just scrunched up her nose at her friend. “This one is the closest I think I’ll ever get to experiencing what it’s like having a sister. Lavender here is a royal pain in my arse and I couldn’t love her any more than I already do.”

Lavender hammed up her response; batting her eyes and making overly-sweet cooing noises at her friend. “Aww, thanks little sis!”

“Little? I’m older than you!” Hermione grumbled that she was a month older than her cheeky friend.

Ginny laughed, “I know what you mean! Luna and I are the same way; speaking of whom, I wonder where she wandered off to.” She peered around the Hall before spotting her friend staring up at the lead guitarist for ‘Unicorn Armada.’ “There she is. Oh, that’s odd…”

All heads swung to where Ginny had pointed. Daphne cocked her head curiously, “Is it me, or do the two guitar players look familiar? Come to think of it, the bassist looks a lot like my younger sister, Astoria but that’s not possible because Tori’s at home with my parents.”

Great Hall, Dining area; while the girls were trying to figure out the identities of the band members…

Petunia had taken a seat next to Molly and Arthur Weasley, the latter of whom was chatting with Professor Flitwick. Vernon was involved in a conversation with a couple of other ‘important people’ from the Ministry. “So, I heard that you know a lot about cooking and homesteading,” Petunia ventured, not really sure what there was to talk about with the older witch.

Molly smiled reassuringly, “Well, I wouldn’t call it a lot, my dear but I do alright. What is it that you do in the muggle world?”

“A number of things really, like managing Harry’s fashion business so he can concentrate on coming up with the designs and going to school.”

Molly’s eyes widened with interest, “You…and he? I’ve seen those outfits and I’m impressed with their style! I had always thought that muggle fashions were a bit too risqué for my tastes with their desire to show off so much skin. It’s just not proper, if you ask me.” She frowned momentarily when her sharp gaze spotted the Twins taking a swig from something suspicious a younger boy had handed them. “My Ginny had begged me to get her one of the dresses from Harry’s most recent catalog that has been making its rounds throughout the school, but I felt that for her first ball; she ought to go with something a bit more traditional.”

Petunia bobbed her head understandingly, “I agree. You never forget your first. So… is Ginny your youngest?”

“She is. She’s also the only girl in the family, much to my delight. Oh, excuse me. Those boys…” She rose to her feet and stormed off to the refreshment table where she’d seen George slip something acid green into the bowl.

“It never fails.” Petunia turned to see Minerva glaring over at Molly berating her twin sons with pointed gestures. “Those two have done more to contribute to my grey hair than even the shenanigans that Lily, James, and his friends ever caused.”

Petunia laughed, “You’re one of the few who caught on that Lily wasn’t the paragon of lady-like behavior, have you?”

Minerva pursed her lips in feigned annoyance. “She seemed like such an innocent child too. She always turned in her assignments on time, practiced her magic, and never caused problems that I could see. Who’d have thought that young Lily Evans had such a diabolical streak in her?”

Petunia bobbed her head with fond memories, “I know, I still have her journals of all the pranks and retaliation she pulled on the students and staff that annoyed her for whatever reason. I think it’s why she and James got along so well once James pulled his head out of his arse.” She took a sip of her drink, “Which one of her pranks is your favorite?”

Minerva thought about that and cackled quietly. “I think it would have to be that one time she managed to prank the Headmaster into thinking he was overseeing a meeting in his office when in reality, he was holding court with a cluster of stuffed animals here in the Great Hall. The look on his face when whatever spell she used wore off!”

Petunia nodded sagely, “Ah, yes. Page thirty-two of her ‘Plots, Pranks, and Pratfalls’ journal. Mine was the time she slipped a potion into the morning drink of someone named Slughorn. It made him believe he needed to flee as if being chased by the Hounds of Hell. She mentioned in the journal that she felt that the man needed a bit more exercise than just running his mouth off condescendingly about the abilities of the muggleborn.”

A gasp and snort of laughter escaped from Minerva’s lips, as she covered her mouth and looked on wide-eyed. “I remember that! Oh Merlin, it took us two hours to calm him down! Oh dear, I wonder if I could retract the points loss retroactively. I thought at the time it was the work of James and his friends.” Her face sobered as Vernon sat down on Petunia’s other side. “Mrs. Dursley, I want to apologize to you and your husband for everything that Albus put you through as well as the declining educational standards Harry had to endure during his short time here at Hogwarts. I don’t know how or when I started dismissing how bad things became, but I’m sure it was that old Sassenach who must’ve done something nefarious that caused me to forget.”

Vernon dipped his chin in acknowledgement, “Thank you, Headmistress. On the bright side, what Harry inadvertently started with that letter of his, did bring about some welcome fresh air to both schools. I was chatting with a couple of the other parents of those from…Slytherin House, I believe? Green and silver markings? (Minerva confirmed his guess) They mentioned that with the removal of the muggleborn children, tensions have dropped significantly, both inside and out of the school.”

Petunia made a humming noise and waggled her hand. “I’m not sure if it’s dropped the tension outside of school given the economic downturn Diagon Alley has been experiencing from what I’ve heard. Something like seventy percent of the shops has been closed down since last year or so?”

Minerva looked uncomfortable, “I’m sure it’ll all clear itself up eventually. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go deal with the Weasley twins before their mother starts yelling louder than a dragon.” She rose to her feet and hurried over to where Molly’s face was rapidly turning a violent shade of red.

Over with the Twins and their mother…

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Molly whisper-shrieked as only she could do. Both boys immediately tensed and flinched in preparation for the onslaught on their hearing. “Can’t you go one night without causing chaos for an event that is supposed to show everyone just how wonderful Hogwarts can be?”

“We weren’t doing anything, mum!” George protested.

“Yeah, we were just enjoying a refreshing beverage brought to us by young Colin here.” Fred finished while motioning to Whitehall firstie Colin Creevey. The lad was nervously fingering his camera and trying to not get involved.

Molly’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What was in this ‘refreshing beverage’?”

Colin stammered, “I-it’s their Coconut and Berry blend. They saw me taking a sip and got curious. It’s nothing dangerous unless you chug down multiple cans at once.” He dug out a fresh can and handed it over. “Here, try it.”

Whitehall Deputy Robert Washington approached, “What’s going on? Colin, are you alright?”

Molly thrust the can into his hands, “I don’t know why you allow your students to distribute illegal potions but I’m not letting my children get involved with this peddler.”

Robert looked on bemusedly, “Colin?”

“It’s just a Red Bull, sir. The twins were curious; I wouldn’t have given them any if it was dangerous.”

Robert pursed his lips and crossed his arms, “There you have it, madam. Red Bulls are just energy drinks for those who need an extra boost to get through their day. They’re not illegal and no different than drinking a cup of coffee. You’re free to discipline your children as you see fit; just don’t try it with Whitehall’s students.” His pointed look silenced Molly’s impending rant. He motioned for Colin to follow him and led the boy away from the scene. “I’m not upset with you, Colin so don’t worry about it. Some people just get weird when the world doesn’t operate to their beliefs and standards. On top of that, the majority of the purebloods aren’t up to date with modern conveniences like energy drinks. Go and get the photo booth set-up, alright?”

Colin bobbed his head and sighed, “I understand. Thank you, sir.”

Back in the line to dance with Harry…

Hermione was ‘patiently’ waiting for her turn when Ix flamed in and settled on her shoulder. “Hey, Ix. Glad you could make it.” She reached up and gently petted the phoenix’s feathers. It took a moment for her to realize that everyone around her (minus the Whitehall girls) had gone utterly silent. She blinked in surprise, “What?”

Daphne stared in awe at the bird on Hermione’s shoulder, “You’re bonded with a phoenix?! When were you going to tell us about that?”

“Isn’t that the same phoenix that used to belong to Dumbledore?” someone else asked.

Hermione beamed proudly, “I am, and this is Ix. She used to be with Dumbledore before he went all dark and bonded with me instead. I guess it just slipped my mind and I forgot to tell you all.” She blushed at the slip-up.

“I’m friends with a basilisk,” Ginny quipped to the astonishment of everyone. “She’s really nice and has a lot of great stories to tell about what the school was like in the early days.”

Sally-Anne eyed the redhead, “You’re a Parselmouth?”

Ginny shook her head, “No, but she speaks to me in my mind. It’s sort of like tel…tele…”

“Telepathy?” Sally-Anne helpfully supplied.

Ginny brightened, “Yeah, that! I had gotten lost one day after Potions class down in the dungeons and she rescued me. We got to talking and she’s an absolute sweetie. Her name’s Sandrine and she was put in place by Salazar Slytherin himself! She told me that the Founders weren’t anything like what the history books tell us. Did you know that Slytherin wasn’t interested in making this school only for witches and wizards from established families?”

Daphne looked at her oddly, “But the stories…”

Ginny harrumphed as she interrupted, “They’re all wrong and distorted by time and bigots. Sandrine said that he said his intention wasn’t to kill the muggleborn but to swap the muggleborn with squibs! The muggles of the time couldn’t raise magical children and the magical families couldn’t raise squibs so the idea was to match the children and families based on things like eye and hair color, skin color, boy or girl all depending on the needs of the respective families.” Her words spilled out in a rush the longer she spoke. Her shoulders slumped at the end, “I wish I could bring her up here but she’s too big and likely to start a panic because she’s a basilisk. I bet she’d make a great history teacher. I like Professor Hall a lot, but she’s not as old as Sandrine and her eyes really creep me out.”

Sally-Anne was confused, “What’s wrong with Professor Hall’s eyes?”

“They’re a weird sort of purple color in the irises.” Millie answered. “I think it has something to do with the fact that she’s a vampire.”

Lavender’s mouth dropped open, “You have a vampire as a professor?! Lucky…”

“Really? You’re not worried about being converted by their evil ways? You should’ve heard my parents after they found out that she’d been hired. I think they were mollified after McGonagall swore an oath that Professor Hall wasn’t a threat. We only found out about her condition recently after Gwendolyn stumbled upon her drinking a goblet of blood.” Several girls made gagging noises.

“I heard that she promised that the only time she would use her vampire influence on the students is if the idiots in our House forget to do their homework again,” a Gryffindor quipped.

“I’ve always wondered what it is about the blood that they need so much. Is it the hemoglobin or the antibodies? Minerals perhaps? Does she know about modern vitamin supplements?” One of the older Whitehall girls questioned to the confusion of the Hogwarts girls. “Any idea where she might be?”

Pansy shook her head, “No, but ever since Dumbledore was arrested, she’s turned her attention onto Professor Snape. I think they have a love affair going; after all, she’s a vampire and he dresses like a dungeon bat.” Several titters of laughter broke out.

Continuing her conversation with Ginny, Hermione was eager to hear more about Sandrine. “Ix is like Sandrine too. We call her ‘Professor Ix’ at Whitehall whenever she gets convinced to start talking about the old days.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment then giggled when Ix tapped her on top of her head. “She just scoffed at having to be ‘convinced’ and said that she loves to talk as long as people are willing to listen.”

Millie shook her head in amazement, “Do you know how rare it is for a phoenix to bond with anyone? Your standing in our world would take an enormous leap if this were made public.”

Hermione held up a hand to stop the other girl there, “And that’s why I don’t want it to be made public, aside from what people might see here tonight. Public adoration of someone who bonded with a phoenix is one of the reasons why Dumbledore became the way he is. He started believing the hype that others heaped upon him which led him to believe that he could do no wrong. She and I might be bonded but,” Ix hopped off her shoulder and onto Ginny’s, the redhead’s eyes nearly bugging out. “As long as you’re true to yourself and good at heart, Ix has no problem with hanging out with you.”

Su Li of Ravenclaw bounced up to the group, her eyes glittering, and her face was flush from all the dancing. “Hey, who wants to go next?”

Hermione nudged Ginny, “You go. I can always dance with him later.”

Ginny approached Harry nervously. “Um, hi.” She grimaced at how squeaky her voice sounded. “Care to dance with me?”

Harry gave her a warm smile that made her knees knock together. “It would be my pleasure. So, what’s your name and which House are you in?” He held out his hand and led her into a sweeping start for a simple foxtrot.

“I’m Ginny Weasley, the best and brightest of all seven of the Weasley clan,” she announced with determination.

Harry quirked up an eyebrow, “Bold statement, I approve. I’m guessing you’re a Gryffindor like the rest of them.”

She shook her head, “No, I got into Hufflepuff.”

“Wow, that’s even more daring. I’ve heard stories that your mother basically laid down the law about who gets to be sorted where and woe to anyone who dares to defy her.”

Ginny giggled, “She does act like that, doesn’t she? No, her one and only rule is that no Weasley shall ever be sorted into Slytherin. I was tempted to bully the Hat into sending me there if only to annoy my brothers, but Luna got sorted ahead of me and I wanted to stay with my friend.”

Harry gave her a gentle nudge, “Good for you. Are you happy where you are?”

That opened the conversation floodgates as she began divulging everything that was awesome about being a Puff. “I’m also glad that we’re located near the dungeons too; I get to talk with Sandrine any time she’s out and about.”

“Sandrine? Who’s that?”

“She's a basilisk that guards the school against intruders. I’m surprised she’s not roaming the hallways because of all of the muggles here.” Ginny looked around towards the open doors as if she could spot her slithering friend.

Harry frowned minutely, “There’s only a couple of muggles here and they’re the parents or guardians of the Whitehall students.”

Ginny pursed her lips in thought then brightened, “Oh…that must be why she’s not up here. The castle must’ve told her that they were okay.” A scowl formed on her face as she spotted the twins behind Harry making rude gestures. “Those two better behave themselves!”

Harry looked back to where she’d pointed and laughed, “They will. Between your mum and McGonagall here, I doubt they’d try to do anything stupid. Besides, they would then have to deal with the baddest, toughest Badger this side of the Atlantic Ocean!” He tweaked the tip of her nose, causing the poor girl to bloom bright pink in embarrassment.

Dinnertime

Harry flopped down onto his seat and let out a sigh of relief. Draco slid into the space next to him with a smug look. “That’s what you get for being Mr. Popular, Potter.”

“Who knew that girls get crazy when you ask them to dance? I was just trying to cheer up Millie, no thanks to Theo. Speaking of whom, where is the prat? I’ve got five things I want to say to him.” He waved his fist mock-threateningly.

Draco snorted, “Theo’s currently indisposed thanks to a large helping of a Gas-Inducing potion I gave Pansy to slip into the punch bowl.”

Harry scrunched his face up in confusion, “I saw her doing that and wondered when she became such a prankster. Why would you do that?”

“Because he annoyed me first; Millie was just collateral damage. I’ll apologize later.”

“Did Pansy know what the potion was for?”

“No, I don’t think so though I think she figured it out after he bolted to the loo.”

Huffing an indiscriminate noise, Harry asked the blond what the other boy had done. “He made some scathing comment that my father had fallen out of favor to the ideals set down by the Dark Lord ever since he let my mother dictate how he should behave or some such rot.”

Harry shook his head, “That makes no sense whatsoever.”

Draco shrugged indifferently, “He’s just parroting what his dad keeps saying.  Hopefully, he’ll learn to keep those thoughts in his head where they belong after what I did to him. Theo’s dad is also one of the few people who opposed changing the curriculum to the Whitehall textbooks saying all sorts of nasty things about the muggleborns and how they wouldn’t know proper education if it bit them on the arse.”

“His arse is going to be hurting when no one wants to hire him,” Harry growled back. “Those textbooks are fantastic.”

Draco held his hands up, “Believe me, I know. Look at what it did for Ron ‘I hate reading’ Weasley.”

Harry glanced around the room, “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s not here scarfing down all the food.”

Draco pointed over to another table where the redhead in question was conversing with Dudley, “There he is. Who’s that he’s with?”

“My cousin, Dudley. Judging by their hand movements, they’re discussing Quidditch. Oh, I wanted to ask, I heard that the House teams are competing to see who gets to play off against a professional team. Who’s winning so far?”

“Gryffindor, so far unfortunately. The first match was finished two weeks ago with the Lions shutting out Ravenclaw two hundred and ten to thirty-five.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide, “No kidding? Who’re they up against next?”

“Slytherin. Flint’s been working the team relentlessly too. I wish I could’ve played but he said he didn’t want to waste time training a new player when the honor of Slytherin was on the line.”

Harry could commiserate, “That stinks. What about gathering up the kids who didn’t make the cut and just play some exhibition games? No scoring, just playing for fun. That way you can see who can commit the highest number of fouls and all the crazy plays you can think of.”

Draco’s face lit up at the idea, “Ooh that sounds like fun! There’s an American team that does stuff like that. Hmmm, ideas. So many ideas…”

Up at the Teacher’s table…

Severus sighed once again at being forced to attend the frivolity of the night when he had better things to do with his scarce amount of free time. ‘I’d rather be hand cleaning out a barrel of fermented toad guts than socialize with everyone here.’  His eyes subconsciously rolled in their sockets when he heard the purring sultry tone of voice coming from their History of Magic professor and resident vampire, Emily Hall. “You have no idea what your outfit is doing to me, Sev. You know how much I appreciate it when people start dressing like they’re a vampire.”

Severus gave her a half-hearted glare, knowing full well that no matter how scathing he was to her, Emily just shrugged it off and called him cute. She stared dreamily at him, tracing little hearts on the table much to his annoyance. “Please, I’ve seen you get giggly around glitter. Half of your wardrobe involves sparkly shades of purple and wouldn’t be out of place amongst Albus’ old clothes. You are by far, the most un-vampire vampire I’ve ever been in the presence of. I wouldn’t put it past you to sparkle in the sunlight.” With Albus out of the castle, Emily had turned her attention onto Severus much to his annoyance and the amusement of the rest of the staff.

“I’m not that bad,” Emily argued while she teasingly played with his lanky hair.

Severus yanked his hair out of her reach and speared her with an incredulous sneer, “Oh really? Who was it then that dressed up like a purple disco ball and danced like a maniac in the Courtyard while singing ‘Walk like an Egyptian’ at two in the morning three weeks ago?”

Emily shrugged, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past couple of centuries is that life’s too short not to appreciate the little moments that bring laughter and cheer to everyone around you.” She reached over and coyly tweaked his nose, “Come on, let’s go find an empty broom closet so I can bring a bit of cheer to that sour face.”

The look on his face could’ve resembled curdled milk, prompting Emily to grin wide enough to show off her fangs.

Harry’s table, halfway through the main course

Neville had joined Harry and Draco, assisting the latter boy in teasing the former about who ‘dared’ to be in public while not wearing his dresses. “Hermione looks fantastic in that dress. You did a great job on it. I love that flower arrangement around the top there.”

Harry smiled, “Thanks. The dress she’s wearing is actually the prototype of the line. Everything there was hand-stitched by Sunny.”

“I’m shocked that you managed to get an elf to work for you outside of Hogwarts, Harry.” Draco commented, “They usually restrict themselves to well-established pureblood houses because we have the magical reservoirs to provide them with what they need to survive.”

“I never really thought about it before,” Harry admitted. “When I was a student here, she’d been assigned by McGonagall to help out then later, when I was busy fitting Hermione with a couple of outfits last year, Sunny showed up on her own and essentially claimed me as her boss. I don’t mind and frankly, she’s been an absolute godsend.”

Neville laughed teasingly, “Maybe when you get married, you can name a daughter after your elf.”

Harry turned his attention to his friend with a mocking glare, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I would love for a daughter to be named Sunny Potter. You can’t say her name without smiling.”

Draco pulled a muscle while attempting to say the name without smiling. “Ow, you’re right; it doesn’t work.” He rubbed his cheek before changing the subject. “So is her dress blue or green?”

“It’s sort of bluish-green, closer to a teal green I suppose. It contrasts nicely against her cinnamon-colored hair and skin tone.” The trio watched as Hermione bobbed her way around a slow-moving adult, Harry noting that the metallic gold brocade flashed in the light. “I’d forgotten that I used that metallic gold on the skirt.”

“How do you forget stuff like that? Don’t you have notes?” Neville inquired curiously.

Harry bobbled his head, “Well, yeah but then you’ve got to consider how many designs I have going out at any given time. Like I said, her dress is a prototype which might mean I went through several variations until I found something I liked and was cost-effective.”

Neville pointed out a couple of older students crowding around the younger Whitehall girls, “What do you think they’re arguing about?”

Harry craned his head around to see where Neville was pointing, “I don’t think they’re arguing; I think they’re comparing. Yes, see how one is pointing out that the dress that Sally-Anne is wearing has pockets? None of the other dresses I’ve seen tonight have pockets included, which is a shame but it’s something that sets mine apart from the competition.”

“I like that red color and the black leaf outline.”

Harry bobbed his head appreciatively, “Thanks. I had originally wanted it have radiating lines starting at the bottom point but I couldn’t find the appropriate fabric and creating my own would’ve been too expensive.”

Draco made a gagging noise, “Did that girl just yank her arms off?” Sally-Anne was demonstrating how she could operate her hands remotely by making the hand crawl along a table to the squeals of surprise by the others.

“Sally-Anne? Yeah, she’s got two prosthetic arms. It doesn’t limit her magical ability in the least and she’s funny to be around. She’s got me beat in Runes class.”

Draco just shivered, “I can’t imagine living like that. I’d rather just end it all than having to live with two fake arms.”

Dudley joined them at that point, “Great school you got here, guys. It’s almost like magic how you’re able to get stuff done.” Harry grinned at his innuendo while Neville and Draco groaned and shook their heads. “What or who are we looking at?”

“I’m still playing my game of ‘Who’s wearing my line’ and appreciating how good Hermione looks in her dress. Draco’s having a fit that Sally-Anne has two fake arms, and I’m not sure what Neville is thinking; probably something boring involving plants.” He ducked from the wadded up serviettes being thrown at him by the two aforementioned boys.

“Hey, have you seen Susan Bones’ dress, Harry?” Draco asked him a moment later.

“Seen it? I designed it. Why?”

“Oh, I thought she’d gotten it from a magical designer because of the enchantments on it.”

Harry shook his head, “News to me, what sort of work did she have done to it?”

Draco waggled his hand over where the bodice would be on the girl. “I’m not sure, but it looks like it glows in the dark.”

Harry thought about it for a moment before shaking his head again, “No, I don’t remember putting anything like that into the dress.”

Lavender appeared and draped herself over Harry’s shoulder, “Done eating? Good, you have more girls who’re still waiting to dance with you, Mr. Stud of the Night.”

Harry let out a very much put-upon sigh of resignation, “Sorry guys, duty calls. Lead on, Lady Buster Brown.” He allowed Lavender to drag him back out onto the dance floor. “Hey, Lav; any idea where Susan Bones might be? I heard from Draco that she modified her dress to glow in the dark.”

“Yeah, she was getting her picture taken by Colin a few minutes ago. Have you seen Daphne’s dress? I’m jealous that she looks that good in green. If I try to wear that color, I end up looking sickly.”

Harry eyed the girl in question as she glided along the floor dancing elegantly with an older boy he didn’t know from Whitehall. “Yeah, it’s a nice one. I…when did I design that one? Oh! Now I recognize it. It’s from my Vintage Eras collection. There was a picture of Audrey Hepburn wearing something similar and it inspired this one. That collection of fluff at the top was supposed to be roses but the fabric just refused to be shaped like I wanted so I just went with a ruffled look.”

At the Dignitaries table…

Minister Cornelius Fudge was enjoying himself; it was rare for him to find a time where he could relax and just take in the ambience of a party without being approached or pressured to approve or disapprove someone’s pet project. His temporary Senior Undersecretary replacement noticed his sigh of contentment. “Anything wrong, Minister?”

“No, no. I’m just happy to attend a party where I’m not the center of attention.” His contentment vanished when he heard a fake cough he’d hoped to never hear again.

“Hem, hem.”

Cornelius plastered a fake smile on his face as he turned around, “Dolores? I thought you were out of the country.” He took note of her tanned and her surprisingly relaxed appearance. “You look like you took to the accommodations nicely.”

Dolores smiled, smiled and without her usual implied nastiness! “Thank you, Minister. I did enjoy my stay once I reached the island of Ni’ihau which is an isolated volcanic island within the Hawaiian Island chain. The locals there have an unusual yet welcome custom that the bigger one is (she gestured at her corpulent body), the more powerful you must be. As a result, they treated me with the respect my office and position demanded.” She glanced about the room, “Where’s Albus? I would’ve thought he’d be latched onto your side like a parasite.” The temporary Senior Undersecretary offered her an open spot on Cornelius’ other side. “Thank you.”

“Albus was arrested after he tried and failed to illegally enter Harry Potter into the Hogwarts Triathlon. He’s been sentenced to six months in the medium-security wing in Azkaban. It seems as if the whole thing was his idiotic plan to involve the boy to force him to return to Hogwarts where Albus would put him under all sorts of dark magic to make the boy behave according to the old man’s script.” The temporary Senior Undersecretary answered her.

Dolores’ jaw dropped open in surprise, “Wow, that does seem rather convoluted but then again, this is Albus we’re talking about. I bet he can’t go a day without making going to the loo a complicated venture.”

Cornelius pressed on why Dolores had returned early. “Well, I wanted to speak with you about that. During my stay with the Americans, I had a wonderful time. More to the point, they have a strict regulation about who is allowed to be a part of their community. In short, there are no mud…eh, muggleborns allowed to enter their territory which is kept hidden from the mainland and the other islands.”

“How many people live there? It can’t be that big of a settlement.”

She thought back, “At last count there was roughly about fifteen thousand people living and working there. They do have their own Floo Network and a regular portkey route as well as some fishing and ferry boats so it’s not like I’d be disappearing off the face of the planet.”

“So you’re hoping to transfer there is what I’m gathering,” Cornelius mused, he glanced over at his aide. “Do we have an embassy there?”

Dolores shook her head and replied instead, “Not on that island. We do have a consulate there, with the embassy on O’ahu in the city of Honolulu.”

Cornelius considered his options. On one hand, it would permanently get rid of Dolores who’d been a thorn in his side ever since he’d taken office. Her views on the muggleborns and low-born half-bloods was well-known and thoroughly disliked. On the other hand…well, actually there wasn’t another viewpoint to consider. “Very well, Dolores. I’ll sign your transfer papers when I get back to the office. In the meantime, will you be staying here or heading home to pack?”

Dolores snagged a glass of wine from a passing elf, “I thought I’d give the gala a look-through. It sounded more interesting than the usual festivities at the Ministry. I’m surprised that Amelia hasn’t shown…oh, never mind, here she is.” Her flabby face pulled downward slightly as the Director approached the table.

Amelia addressed Cornelius, “We have a problem. A big snake of a problem…”

Outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom

Cornelius, Dolores, Amelia, and Minerva stared at the petrified form of one of Amelia’s Aurors, John Dawlish. “Not much of a sculpture, but then again, he wasn’t that much of an Auror,” Cornelius quipped, laughing mostly to himself.

Both Amelia and Minerva gave him a weird look. “How could you say that?”

Cornelius thumbed in Dawlish’s direction, “Nephew through my sister’s brood. He thought he could ride my coattails when I made Junior Minister in the Catastrophes Department. I had hoped you would’ve shunted him somewhere he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself, Amelia.”

“He told me he was connected to you so I gave him the easy jobs, or so I thought.”

Minerva nudged Amelia, “How do you know that a big snake did this?”

Amelia merely pointed at the loo’s door. “Snake’s in there. I’ve got a team coming up from Beast Control to put it down.” They could hear the snake slithering around inside.

“What are you going to do with Sandrine?” They whirled around to see Ginny glaring at the adults.

Minerva went to chivvy her back to the party, “You shouldn’t be here, young lady. I don’t even know how you found out about this.”

Ginny pouted, “Sound travels really well in the Great Hall, Headmistress plus Luna told me that Hogwarts told her about Sandrine being rounded up. You can’t hurt her, Salazar Slytherin put her here to guard against intruders and she’s my friend!”

Dolores rubbed her temples, “How did she manage to say that in one breath?”

Amelia ignored the question and knelt in front of the angry girl. “Miss Weasley is it? (Ginny confirmed her identity) That snake is a danger to anyone who looks into its eyes and not something that should be allowed to be around people.”

“So are half the boys in this school and they’re allowed to stay,” she replied petulantly then pushed past Amelia and stormed into the loo. “Hi, Sandrine!”

“Hello, Ginny. What’s going on out there?”

“The people outside found out what you did to that Auror and are trying to figure out what to do with you,” she answered. “I think he looks better as a pigeon pooping platform.” She giggled at her alliteration.

“Oh, the human wearing that ridiculous costume? I apologize for petrifying him; he surprised me when I went to go do my rounds while the rest of the school was in the Great Hall. The wards were telling me about outsiders trying to make their way in but no one seemed to be doing anything about it.”

“The school is hosting a party to celebrate Yule and they invited another school to share in the fun. I got to dance with Harry Potter!” She excitedly went on about the thrill of meeting and dancing with her hero. Behind her, the adults watched on in a mixture of trepidation, fear, and bewilderment as the tiny human held what appeared to be a one-sided conversation with the gargantuan snake.

“How is it that we haven’t petrified as well?”  Dolores whimpered as she belatedly covered her eyes.

Ginny calmly answered. “Sandrine says that the petrifaction happens whenever someone looks at her reflection. She also says that she can control when her gaze turns murderous so you’re safe unless you try to hurt me or her.”

“Miss Weasley?” Minerva called out to the girl.

“Ginny!” Molly shrieked at the same time when she and Arthur came looking for their wayward daughter.

Ginny’s face split with a mischievous smile as she turned and rested against Sandrine’s head and spoke in a sinister tone, “Hello Mother. Hello Father… It’s so good to see you here for my Ascension as Dark Witch. Mwa hahahaha!” She held the imperious gaze just long enough for Sandrine to nudge her gently before dissolving into a gale of laughter. “You should see your faces!”

Molly whirled on Minerva, “What is going on?!”

Minerva let out an aggrieved sigh, “It would seem that your daughter made friends with the legendary basilisk of Salazar Slytherin. Minister? Director? I don’t think we have a problem here. I’m well aware of Sandrine’s existence through my connection to the school’s wards as Headmistress. I just didn’t know about her friendship with Miss Weasley. Sandrine’s only a threat to those who would try to harm the staff and students. I suspect she’s up here because the wards are telling her that a large group of people have entered the castle and she’s confused as to why we’re not reacting.”

Ginny confirmed it as well. “That’s what she told me and I told her about the party we’re having. Can we bring her along? Please?”

Sandrine rumbled something that prompted Ginny to let out a whine of disappointment. “That’s not fair! You deserve to have some fun too.” The basilisk rumbled something again; Ginny pouted, “Fine. But I’m going to hold you to your promise.” She gave the snake a hug and scampered out of the room.

Sandrine then connected with Minerva, “She’s a fiery one; Helga would’ve loved her. The two had similar personalities. Godric would’ve been terrified that she would’ve tried to take over if she’d managed to be sorted into his House.” With that said, she slipped down the shaft, the sink moving back into place with a low grinding noise.

As the group turned to leave, Sirius and Remus appeared; Remus was carrying a small wire cage with a rat in it. “Ah, just the people we wanted to see!” Sirius remarked jovially. “We’ve fixed your rat infestation problem.”

Flashback, in the Great Hall…

Fred suspiciously eyed the two grinning men standing before them. “Who are you again?”

“And how do you know about the item you caught us with?” Finished George, who was also suspicious of the two as he tried to hide the Map behind his back.

Sirius thumbed between himself and Remus. “Because I’m Padfoot and he’s Moony.” It amused the two remaining Marauders to see the rapidly paling expressions on the twins’ face. Sirius chuckled when the pair sank to their knees and began to chant that they weren’t worthy to be in the presence of such Pranking Royalty then passed out with delirious grins plastered on their faces.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Remus commented dryly as he cast a Renerverate charm on the pair. “It was only a matter of time before someone discovered our map and identities.”

“Aw, Moony lighten up! How often do we get to meet the younger generation who’ve pledged to keep the tradition of keeping everyone on their toes? I just wish Harry could’ve been a part of the fun here too.”

“And put up with Albus every day? No thanks. I’m glad he’s not in this school. Come on, you two; up you get.” He helped George into a chair and pushed a glass of water into his hands.

When their senses returned, it didn’t take long before the two generations began talking shop. Still staring starry-eyed at being in the presence of two of their heroes, Fred pulled out their journal of all their escapades. “We’re not the only ones who are jokesters either, there are a couple in all four Houses who partake in the fun, but we’re the ones who usually get blamed for it when it all goes wrong.”

George pulled out the Map and handed it over. “Since you’re here, perhaps you could explain a few glitches we’ve noticed cropping up every now and then. For example, we’ve noticed a couple of times last year in two separate cases where two name tags would be stacked on top of each other. One was our Defense professor, Quirnius Quirrell who mysteriously vanished right after when the muggleborns transferred to Whitehall. The other time is more regular and involves our younger brother, Ronald. He sometimes has the name tag ‘Peter Pettigrew’ riding along with him but we’ve never seen anyone hanging around him other than that rat of his.”

Fred glanced up and reared back when he spotted the murderous expressions on Sirius’ face. “Uhh…”

Remus took the Map and tapped it with his wand, “Administrator Access Code Purple! Locate and track Peter Pettigrew!” The Map unfolded itself then zoomed in on a table where Ronald was sitting. They whirled around to see the boy chowing down on a turkey leg with his pet rat perched innocently on his shoulder munching on a chunk of cheese. Sirius used Remus as a shield and fired off a pinpoint Stupefy at the rat and let out a dark cheer when the spell hit the traitor square on and again when it hit the floor with a resounding thud.

Present…

“I present to you one traitor and betrayer of the Potter Family, Peter Pettigrew!” Sirius announced to the shocked crowd. “Amelia since you’re here, you can arrest him. Minister, you can render official judgment so we can ship his rotten carcass off to Azkaban; unless you can think of a worse destination for him?” He finished by glancing over at Remus for ideas.

Remus shrugged, “I’m in favor of locking him in his rat form and selling him to a muggle pharmaceutical company where he’ll spend the rest of his life being force-fed chemicals to better serve humans.”

Dolores raised an eyebrow with intrigue, “They do that sort of thing?”

Minerva scoffed, “Leave it to you to focus on the one unimportant facet, Dolores. Messrs Black and Lupin, the two of you can follow me up to my office where we can dispose of Mr. Pettigrew without very much fanfare.”

Sirius’ eyes lit up, “I knew you had that murderous streak in you, Minnie.”

Amelia rolled her eyes and cuffed him on the back of the head, “You idiot. She just meant that I can take him to the DMLE without having anyone else see him going through the main hallway.” She held her hand out for the cage. “Thank you. Have a pleasant evening everyone. Minerva?”

“Make sure you let me know when his execution will take place!” Sirius called out to their retreating forms. Eyes wide, and clearly full of manic energy, he clapped Remus on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s head back to that party and let loose!”

Padfoot and Moony found the twins again, this time talking with Harry and Dudley. Harry’s face lit up when he spotted them. “Uncle Remus! Uncle Sirius! Uh-oh, I know that crazed look. What happened?”

Remus patted Harry on the shoulder, “We took care of an old vexing problem. Nothing you need to worry about. So what’re you discussing?”

“I was just starting to tell the twins about an idea I had for a Howler variant based on the Whitehall Mail Bomb they experienced last year.” He recounted the tale to the snorts of laughter from the older men. “Anyway, the idea would modify a Howler’s enchantments so no matter what the message is, it sounds like their mother.”

Sirius’ eyes moved over to where Molly was fussing about her exasperated daughter. “Oh, do tell. I remember Molly’s strident tones from during the war whenever Fabian or Gideon did something to annoy her.”

“Well, picture a Howler flying in and screaming, ‘RONALD WEASLEY!! How dare you look like such a stud! Girls are tripping over themselves at school and it’s entirely your fault! Your father is facing an enquiry at work. If you get a basketful of their knickers, we’ll bring you straight home!’”

Both Fred and George were practically falling over themselves, howling with laughter. “You’ve got her pegged perfectly even if you can’t match her volume!”

“Then there’s this one that could benefit you two: ‘MINERVA MCGONAGALL!! Since when do you give out points to every Tom, Albus, and Harry just because they flash you a devilishly handsome smile?! I demand that you give my twin boys at least ten points to match what you’ve already given those three miscreants. If you don’t, I will be marching right up to that school to give you a right serve!’”

“Aside from the fact that you’re not a student here any longer, that would be hilarious!” George wheezed as he clutched his sides. “Ow, that hurts. I wholeheartedly approve of your idea, young Potter. What do you want in return for this marvelous mayhem?”

Harry shrugged, “I don’t care. Keep it, run with it, enjoy it, and claim it as your own.” He turned when he heard his name being called. “I’ve gotta go, Hermione’s been chasing me all night to dance with her. I guess I’ll go give her a twirl. Cheers.” He stood and moseyed over to the eagerly bouncing girl and allowed her to drag him back onto the dance floor.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: The Second Task for Repairing Fraying Threads

Thursday 5 January, 2023; Ministry for Magic, conference room

Lucius was not happy to be at this meeting with Sirius Black to discuss the possibility of gaining access to Black Manor in London in hopes of tracking down one of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes, but needs must. The new Lord Black was as unlike the previous Head as one could get. Arcturus was cool and calculating to the point of cruel. He ruled the Black Family with an iron fist. Sirius on the other hand, was… a Gryffindor. He was hot-headed, brash, constantly making jokes and causing mayhem wherever he went.

Still…

He’d originally planned on Narcissa being able to access the manor, picking up the locket without anyone being the wiser but no. She’d stated categorically that speaking with Black was part of his penance for crimes committed in the name of his Lord.

“One of these days, I really need to commit to not calling him that. Ruddy half-blood pretender,” Lucius griped mostly to himself as he awaited Sirius’ arrival. His attention drifted over to the wall mounted clock and grumbled yet again that his wife’s cousin was purposely being disruptive about arriving on time.

Sirius entered the room clearly out of breath and wiping the sweat out of his face ten minutes after the scheduled start time. “Sorry about that. Bloody witches are getting clever at ambushing me.” He waved his wand at his face to remove any leftover traces of lip prints and perspiration. “So what is so important that you wanted to meet here of all places, Lucius?”

“As blunt as ever, Black. Fine, I shall return the favor. Simply put, I need access to Black Manor to retrieve an item that your brother seems to have stolen from the Dark Lord.”

Sirius’ face remained impassive, blank really as his eyes blinked stupidly for a moment. “You want what?”

Lucius sneered, “Do I really need to repeat myself?”

Sirius waved that away, “No, I was just surprised by the suddenness of it and I don’t understand why you’d need my permission. Narcissa has access by sheer dint of being born a Black. Why not just ask her?”

Lucius shifted uncomfortably, “She has…declined my request.”

“I’m confused. What did you do that made her behave like that?”

Pursing his lips in distaste, Lucius began explaining what had been happening since the previous summer when he’d mistakenly left the Dark Lord’s personal journal in the hands of Arthur Weasley’s daughter. “I was having words with him when he started flailing at me like a drunken muggle. We scuffled and later when I checked my pockets, I couldn’t find it any longer. One thing led to another and when Narcissa learnt of it, she hit the roof so to speak. I’m under orders to work with the Unspeakables to track down and identify all of His belongings for destruction.”

A suspicious eyebrow slowly rose on Sirius’ face the longer Lucius went through his explanation. “Okay, first off; I’m sure there’s more to this story than you’re willing to share. Fine, I don’t care about that as long as I don’t have to get involved. One thing I do want from you is to tell me point-blank just what this item you’re searching for looks like.”

Sighing in defeat, Lucius replied that the item in question was a locket that at one point belonged to Salazar Slytherin. “It’s a heavy, ugly looking by modern standards locket with a serpent on the front in the shape of an S.”

Sirius beetled his brows together in thought, “I want to say that I think I’ve seen something like that. Where did… Kreacher!” He bellowed for his mother’s elf.

A dirty, bedraggled elf with a look of disgust and hatred on its wrinkled face appeared. “What does Mistress’ misbegotten disappointment of a child want?”

Lucius started sniggering at hearing that. Sirius shot the blond man a half-hearted sneer and turned to the elf, “Lucius is looking for a locket that my brother allegedly stole from the Dark Lord. It’s rumored to be in Black Manor, do you know what he’s talking about?”

Kreacher got a pained expression on his aged face, “Yes, but Kreacher cannot be telling you. Good Master Regulus forbade me from telling anyone! Kreacher has tried to follow Good Master Regulus’ orders but nothing has worked.”

Both men shared a confused glance. Lucius tilted his head a bit, “Do your orders include trying to destroy that locket Sirius mentioned?” Kreacher bobbed his head affirmatively as tears streamed down his face. “Then this is a simple matter. The Unspeakables within the Department of Mysteries have means to destroy the item that I’m sure your Good Master Regulus never dreamed of. If Sirius gives you permission, you can accompany me back there and witness its destruction once and for all.”

Kreacher’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped open in surprise. “Mister Lucius would do this for Kreacher?” His gaze switched between Sirius and Lucius hopefully. “Would Master Black allow Kreacher to…?” He trailed off uncertainly.

Sirius gave his permission, “Go ahead, if it means the final eradication of that Dark Bastard, by all means.” An idea popped into his head just then, “Lucius, these deals usually require some sort of trade of some sort. What would you say if we were to swap elves?”

Of all the possible options for Black to come up with, this one was definitely not even in the top 100. “One of mine for Kreacher? Why would I want to do this?”

Sirius leant back in his seat and gestured towards the still-morose elf who continued to watch him suspiciously, “He and I clearly hate each other. Kreacher’s been locked away in that moldy old dump with only my mother’s portrait since she finally kicked the bucket and the place is an absolute nightmare yet he either refuses to maintain it or simply can’t because he’s too old.”

“So why would I want to have him in my home?”

Sirius turned to Kreacher, “How much longer do you feel you have left in you to live?”

Kreacher waggled his hand, “Not long. Kreacher feels that he might have a year or two left to go.”

Sirius waved towards the elf, “See? If you allow him into your home, he can die peacefully surrounded by a prime example of pureblood correctness and everything else that he’s whinged about that I seem to be lacking for the past couple of decades. Besides, I’m sure you’ve got an elf that you’d love to get rid of but aren’t sure what to do about it or whom to send it to.”

Lucius couldn’t help but give a quiet scoff of agreement. “True, its name is Dobby and he’s been a disappointment from the moment he’d arrived. Honestly, the only reason why I haven’t just had him banished is because Narcissa has taken a liking to the annoying beast.” He eyed Kreacher beadily, “Dobby for Kreacher? That might work; at the very least, Kreacher knows what’s expected of him without me being forced to repeat myself as is the case with Dobby.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before nodded, “Very well, Black. Dobby!”

Dobby popped in, his pillowcase was stained and there was a fresh burn mark on his face. “Master?”

“I am giving you over to be the elf of Sirius Orion Black. You are no longer a Malfoy elf.”

Dobby blinked his tennis-balled sized eyes slowly as if in disbelief, as he flicked his eyes between Sirius and Lucius. “Dobby being working for Master Sirius now?”

Sirius gently placed his hand on Dobby’s shoulder and spoke gently. “It would be my pleasure to have you work for me.” He whispered something in Dobby’s ear that made the elf perk up and bounce eagerly on his feet. “If that’s alright with you, then why don’t you head over to Grimmauld Place and begin getting the place back up to its former glory? I’ll be by in a few minutes to discuss with you which color scheme I want to go with.”

Dobby let out a triumphant whoop of delight and vanished with a loud crack of displaced air. Kreacher sneered at the spot where the younger elf had disappeared. “Young brat not knowing how to leave quietly.”

Lucius couldn’t believe he was agreeing with Kreacher, “Indeed. Kreacher, go back to Grimmauld Place and bring the locket back here. We’ll deal with its destruction before heading over to my home in Wiltshire. If Lady Malfoy inquires about your presence, you are allowed to tell her of the circumstances.”

Kreacher puffed up as best he could and bowed low, “As you wish, Master Lucius.” He vanished from sight with nary a sound.

Once Kreacher was gone, Sirius blew out a puff of breath and clapped his hands together. “Well, that was fun!”

Lucius’ just shot him a derisive sneer as he rose to his feet to leave.

Grimmauld Place, ten minutes later…

Sirius stepped out of the floo in the sitting room and dusted himself off. Dobby appeared a moment later acting like a wriggling ball of barely-restrained energy. “I take it that you agree this place is in dire need of some proper work?”

“Oh yes, Master Sirius! It being in desperate need but Dobby is worried that it might be too much even for me.” He punished himself by tugging on an ear.

Sirius bobbed his head as he surveyed the sitting room, “Yes, that’s definitely a possibility. Tell you what; reach out within your community for other elves who want to pick up some extra work. I know that elves don’t want payment in coins, but they’re welcome to take anything that catches their fancy as long as it’s not dangerous to their health and well-being.”

Dobby’s jaw dropped open, “Master Sirius is the best Master! Dobby will let the others know. In the meantime, are there any instructions for what you is wanting for the home?”

“I want this place to be welcoming to my godson and his guardians as well as any guests I may invite in.” Sirius rummaged around the desk near the hallway and pulled out an album. “First and foremost, I want you to take down my mother’s screaming portrait and either destroy it or ditch it in some dusty corner where no one will have to suffer her presence ever again. I don’t care what you put in its place.”

He took a seat and opened up the album to show Dobby. “My godson had originally told me about this thing called the ‘Internet’ but frankly, I got lost trying to figure it out. Instead, I’ve got pictures clipped from old books and magazines of other English country homes that appeal to me as I’m trying to steer away from the depressing gothic style that my family seemed to favor.” He handed it over to the elf, “For my bedroom, keep it simple yet inviting. Keep the color scheme neutral or perhaps with a subtle warm tone. Definitely no greens, I’ve had enough of that growing up. I’ve got my ideas in there as well; it’s marked with the tab, ‘Sirius’ room’. At some point during the renovation, see if you can find an elf that knows something about muggle technology since Harry’ll probably want that internet thing here too.”

Dobby nodded his head understandingly. “House being much too dark even for the Black Family. Dobby can be doing this.” He took the album from his new Master and got to work.

Department of Mysteries, Death Room

Lucius shivered when he entered the room with the other Unspeakables. “Is it normal to be unnerved whenever someone enters this room?”

Unspeakable 45 bobbed their cloaked head, “Yes. Understandable too, since the Veil connects to the Underworld.”

“Do you ever get any interaction with the forces that govern the Underworld?”

U45 tilted their head, “What do you mean?”

Lucius gestured at the crumbling stone construct, “Have you ever sent them a message requesting a work order to fix the arch or is that done on this side?”

U45 chuckled, “Ah, I get it. No, we have no form of communication to my knowledge and the arch is as it’s always been. According to some investigations, the arch is merely a mortal construct and not actually its true form.”

“So if I imagined it to be something else, it would take that form? Like if I imagined it to look like the entrance to Malfoy Manor?”

U45 dipped their head, “Possibly. No one to my knowledge has tried that though. You know, despite your elitist attitude, you’d make a good researcher.”

Lucius scoffed and gave the Unspeakable a weird look, “Thanks, I guess.”

They approached the rough stone archway that looked like it had been ripped from an ancient church with its tattered veil that fluttered in a non-existent breeze. By all appearances, it resembled something one would see in a stage play. Unbidden, Lucius had the bizarre urge to reach out and touch the veil to peek behind it. Fortunately, U45 stopped him before he could move too far. Lucius blinked as if waking up from a dream. “I…uh, what just happened?”

“It’s a compulsion woven into the very fabric and construction of the archway. We think it’s designed to lure the condemned so they don’t put up a fight before their execution. You’re not the first person to inadvertently fall under its sway.”

“How do you fight its influence?”

“We’re trained to strengthen our Occulumency before we’re granted permission to enter this room. You have the locket?”

“Kreacher!” The elf popped into the room holding the locket in his fist. Kreacher’s appearance had definitely improved since he’d been reassigned to the Malfoy family. Gone was his tattered loincloth and ratty vest. He was now fitted with a noble looking suit and tie complete with polished shoes as befitting a proud servant of his Master. He’d taken a bath and no longer stank of decay and filth.

“Kreacher is here, Master Lucius. I have brought the locket as instructed.”

U45 pointed to the arch, “Simply toss the locket into the archway. If all goes according to plan; the Horcrux within should be transferred over.”

“Kreacher tried to open it, but could not.” Kreacher explained worriedly.

U45 shook their head, “That does not matter. In the fraction of a moment it takes the locket to travel between this side of the arch and the other, time moves at a different pace in the other realm. As far as our research has indicated, the forces at play in the Underworld will do what they need to do to extract the Dark Lord’s soul and leave behind the vessel.”

“Just do it, Kreacher.” Lucius ordered his elf to comply. He really wanted to leave this place and return to his home and get drunk.

Shrugging his shoulders, Kreacher did as instructed and tossed the vile locket his former Master Regulus had laid down his life for into the archway. He watched as it sailed through the veil and passed through seemingly unaffected. As it clattered to the ground on the other side, the cover sprung open revealing a cracked and tattered portrait of a young girl.

U45 scooped up the now-opened locket and scanned it for any residual trace of the Horcrux. “It’s done. The last Horcrux of the one known as the Dark Lord Voldemort has been destroyed.”

Kreacher sank to his knees and let out a heavy sob of relief, “Your orders have been done, Master Regulus. May you sleep in peace,” He climbed to his feet, swaying a bit from the release of his emotions and turned to Lucius, “Will there be anything else, Master?”

Lucius had been gingerly touching his now unblemished arm and started when Kreacher addressed him. “Wha… um, no Kreacher. Go back to the manor and see if you can clean whatever Dobby missed.”

The moment that the Locket touched the Veil, the Dark Mark on Lucius’ arm (as well as everyone else who bore it) suddenly flared to life. The pain was brief but unimaginable, Lucius screamed as if it was shredding his very soul. Just as quickly, the pain vanished as did the Mark itself. Lucius stared at his unblemished arm in awe. His voice was raspy from the screams, “It’s over…” He stared in awe and disbelief at his unmarked arm before a curious sensation spread throughout his very being. He stared distantly around the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I have the sudden urge to return home and ravish my wife.” Croaker laughed and dismissed him with the words to ‘have fun’ echoing in his ears.

In the Hall of Prophecies, the orb that linked S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. and (Harry Potter?) flashed then went dark. An automated alert went out to inform the Hall’s Overseer that something had changed. They took note of the change of status then hurried to let Croaker know.

Death Eaters up and down Britain stared in awe, if not hesitant jubilation, when their Dark Marks faded from existence. Some ran diagnostic charms to see if maybe it was a new enchantment to hide them from view, but their scans came up clean. Each Death Eater noticed a small boost to their magic when the connection to their former Master was severed. Many former Death Eaters experienced the same rejuvenating feeling that Lucius had and disappeared with their wives or girlfriends. There were many happy faces later that week.

Up at Hogwarts, Severus had been, once again to his annoyance, fending off the amorous advances from the vampire History teacher when his Mark started burning. When it ended, and Severus realized what it meant, he surprised her by scooping Emily up in his arms and planting a passionate kiss on her lips. When he released her, he sauntered away whistling a happy tune that sounded remarkably similar to ‘Ding Dong the bastard’s dead…’ leaving a happily bewildered and now randy vampire to scamper after him.

Daily Prophet Main Offices, two days later

Editor in Chief Barnabus Cuffe stared in disbelief at the press release that had just been delivered via messenger. It was exceedingly rare, heck he couldn’t remember the last time it’d happened, but the Department of Mysteries had sent him information to be published in the next edition of the paper announcing it was confirmed that the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was truly and irrevocably dead.

“The one we all feared for so long is gone for good this time. Two days ago, our agents cast the last vestiges of Lord Voldemort’s soul through the Veil of Death. We’ve since confirmed that his soul and physical form has been accepted and retained in the Underworld. There is no coming back, either via resurrection ritual or other necromantic construct. Anyone who says otherwise is either lying or delusional. If you come across anyone displaying or espousing these viewpoints, contact the Aurors immediately so the person(s) can get the help they so desperately need.”

Cuffe slumped with relief, “It’s over, praise Merlin… Carol!”

Sunday 8 January, 2023; Grimmauld Place

Remus ducked when he heard a squeaky voice bellow out, “Fore!” Thwack! BOOM!! He sent a confused glance at Sirius who shrugged and replied that he had no idea. “Dobby?”

Dobby popped in, his new outfit was reminiscent of the sort of gear one might wear to an excavation of an ancient tomb. “Master be calling Dobby?”

Sirius waved towards the innards of the manor, “What was that explosion?”

Dobby’s ears perked up, “Tilly is working in one of the bedrooms and found something that explodes then resets itself. She’s using it to demo out the walls for the new layout.”

Remus cocked his head curiously, “Is it me or does your elf know how to speak properly and only uses that odd mannerism when he remembers?”

Dobby blushed, “Damn, I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

Sirius cracked up, “Dobby? You want to share with the class?”

Dobby scratched behind his ear sheepishly. “Yes, we elves know how to speak English correctly. It’s just that our Masters like it when we don’t and use that baby talk.”

Both Remus and Sirius shook their heads in exasperation. Sirius gave his permission to drop the need to hide their abilities and just talk normally. “Now, what else has been done to the place?”

Pulling out a clipboard, Dobby consulted it then motioned for the two to follow him. “Starting off here in the foyer, all of the previous furnishings, wallpaper, and Merlin-knows-what else has been pulled and destroyed. There were a couple of portraits that could potentially be valuable if they weren’t so stained or encrusted with dark magic residue. Hardy just decided to chuck it all and start fresh. As you can see, we laid down a black and white diamond tile floor, painted the walls an eggshell white color which brightens up the area considerably. The electrical was finished yesterday (he demonstrated by flicking on the light switch illuminating the overhead chandelier.) The Troll leg umbrella stand was claimed by Gilly for reasons I think that he just wants to annoy his mum. Side table with mirror, a small coat closet, double doors leading off to the dining room, and back there is a door leading to a half bath.”

Sirius stared around in awe, “If these are the kinds of improvements you’ve made to just the entrance, I can’t wait to see what else you’ve done. What else has been completed?”

Dobby flipped up another page, “The kitchen is mostly complete aside from the installation of the new appliances like the refrigerator, stove, and an oddly-behaving light switch, not to mention certifying the fireplace. I’ve got someone coming in to check that over tomorrow. Oh, I took the liberty of having magical windows installed so the kitchen has some natural lighting during the daytime.”

Sirius bobbed his head approvingly. “I like that idea, thank you. What about the living areas?”

“Your bedroom is complete except for the paint; Muenster wanted to get your opinion on the color tint. The family room is just missing the furniture but that’s supposed to arrive this coming Tuesday.”

“Muenster?”

Dobby snickered, “His Master runs an import/export business involving cheeses. Apparently all of his elves are named after the different varieties.”

“Okay, where is he?”

Muenster popped in, “Sir? I know you said no greens, but what about hazel? It’s a combination of green, brown and sometimes gold. Depending on the lighting, hazel paint can appear a coppery color.”

Sirius scratched his chin for a moment then gestured towards the stairs, “Let’s go up and you can show me what you’ve got in mind.”

While Sirius was consulting with the painter, Remus turned to Dobby. “Have you gotten started on the Black Family Library yet?”

Dobby nodded and pointed upwards, “Yes, sir; next floor up. It’s gorgeous if I do say so.”

Wednesday 11 January, 2023; Azkaban Prison, Medium-Security wing, early morning

‘Bellatrix Lestrange is a certified genius,’ Albus mused. ‘She hit up on the ingenious idea to create an enchanted golem in the form of my deceased sister, Ariana to follow me around incessantly asking questions about everything!’

No matter how much Albus tried to get rid of the copy of his dead sister, she’d always pop back up again, tormenting him with more questions and childish observations about everything he did no matter how inconsequential. It finally got to the point where Albus finally broke down in tears, “What must I do to remove myself from this terrible nuisance?!” A flare of green light erupted from the fireplace as Lord Voldemort appeared, “Tom? What are you doing here?”

Voldemort smiled in that insane axe-wielding maniac manner of his, “It’s time for your bath, Mr. Dumbledore.”

Albus snorted himself awake. His feverish gaze swept about his room, noting that he was still in his apartment at Hogwarts, and sighed with relief, “Thank Merlin, it was just a nightmare.”

His attention snapped over to the floo when it flared up again, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the golem stepping into the room; this time, the Ariana-golem wore rags and had grasping long-fingered claws instead of her usual hands. “Why Albus? Why must you fight your treatments? The Healer at St. Mungo’s told me that you’ve been neglecting your potions.” She reached out with a scaly clawed hand, “If you keep this up, it’ll be the Draught of Living Death for you.”

Albus paled as he fought to back away, “But…no, this can’t be!”

Ariana shook her head; her eyes fading into bottomless pools of inky darkness, her face starting to decay and wither the closer she got to him. “Why, Albus? Why? Why? Why?!”

Albus snapped upright on the moldy pile of hay that constituted his bed in his cell in Azkaban. The early morning light barely filtered through the tiny window too high to see out of properly. A Dementor drifted past the cell door, adding to the chill in the air. He slumped with relief once the demon had passed. “Thank Merlin, it was just another nightmare.” He ran a hand over his haggard face and dragged himself over to the bucket he used for washing and splashed the greasy remnants of last night’s supply onto his face. His ears perked up when he heard the distinctive sounds of approaching footsteps.

It turned out to be the warden. “Ah, Dumbledore! Glad to see you’re awake. I thought you’d like to know that the Daily Prophet has graciously provided us with a special edition.”

Albus sneered in a rough voice, “The only thing I’m interested in is when I’m getting released.”

The warden laughed oily, “Yeah, about that. You know those plans you had for defeating the Dark Lord at the expense of Harry Potter? (Albus’ face was studiously blank) Oh, don’t get like that; you talk in your sleep or whenever the Dementors are around. Anyway, I brought you a copy of the paper. Enjoy.” He tossed the newspaper over to Albus and stood there with a superior grin on his flabby face.

Albus snatched up the paper, noticing the headlines practically screaming: “IT’S OVER!” His eyes roved over the article briefly before raising to catch the warden grinning maliciously. “It’s not true. It’s a plot by the Dark Lord to lull you into a sense of complacency! I need to get out of here so I can defeat him!”

The warden chuckled, “Sure, sure. While you’re waiting, maybe you’d like to have tea with Bellatrix and the others up in MaxSec too? Oh, wait…you can’t. Not since Yule when that sadistic bitch threw a hissy fit over something and started a riot amongst the Dementors.”

Albus cocked his head curiously, “What happened?”

The warden shrugged, “It doesn’t matter. The bitch and all of her Death Eater buddies are now gone.”

“They escaped?!”

The warden shook his head and scoffed, “No, my mistake. What I meant was, as a result of her little tantrum, the locks on all the cells burst open allowing the Dementors to slip inside and Kiss them all. Bellatrix and her former psychopathic cohorts are now gone from the wing and pushing up daisies, or whatever passes for daisies around these parts.” He nonchalantly examined his nails. “At any rate, those Grand Plans whatever they were; is now much like your vaunted reputation. Gone, dust, useless… Enjoy the rest of your day, Albus ‘Washed-up’ Dumbledore.” He tipped the former ‘Leader of the Light’ a jaunty salute and sauntered away.

Albus stared helplessly at the cell door before feverishly reading the article once more. After a few moments of contemplation, he leant back against the stone walls and resolutely stated to himself, “It’s a trick. It’s not possible that anyone has discovered Tom’s little secret. I’m certain that this is just another one of his tricks to distract everyone from the truth.”

“Sounds like the old days, eh Albus?” Albus cringed when he heard Gellert’s voice as the man faded into view a moment later. “Remember when you and I floated those same sorts of rumors in order to further our plans for the Greater Good?”

Albus paled and started muttering, “It’s just another nightmare. It’s just another nightmare, there must be a Dementor floating nearby.” He let out an involuntary yelp of surprise when Gellert appeared sitting next to him, a wicked leer stretching his skeletal face.

“Aw, is that any way to speak to your better half?” Gellert draped a bony arm over Albus’ shoulders and made gloppy, drooling sounds like a plunger in a backed-up toilet as he puckered his lips together. “Kiss me like you used to, lover.”

Albus frantically tried to back away from the encroaching specter, but found himself wedged up against the wall with no chance of escape. Outside, the warden paused at the lift doors and smirked to himself when he started hearing Albus’ screams and pleas for mercy.

Saturday 14 January, 2023: Hogwarts Quidditch pitch Hufflepuff versus Slytherin match

“And another goal by Weholt! The score is now 20 to 0; Oh! Has Diggory seen the Snitch?” All heads craned to see the Puff Seeker dive for the ground only to pull out after a couple of seconds when he realized that his Slytherin counterpart hadn’t followed him. “Aw, it was just a feint. Diggory goes back onto the hunt.”

Ginny watched in awe and a bit of envy at not being able to take part. “Next year, I’m going to show everyone just what a benefit having a Weasley on your team can be!”

After that score by Weholt, the Slytherin team dug deep and began racking up points at an alarming pace. They fought hard and pulled plays that just barely skirted the edges of what could potentially be declared a foul. Keeper Herbert Fleet defended the rings as best he could, but it was clear he was no Oliver Wood. A timeout was called about halfway through to allow the Puffs a chance to catch their breath and try to reformulate a new plan. Ginny rushed down to offer her insights from her days of watching her brothers play, which while appreciated, did little to stem the proverbial blood loss in the air. Two hours later, and Slytherin shut out Hufflepuff with a win of 410 to 150.

Saturday 28 January, 2023; Hogwarts, Third floor near the Grand Staircase

Minerva practically flew up the stairs without the aid of a broom as she frantically tried to reach the classroom where one of the portraits had informed her that an orgy of unparalleled levels was taking place. As she neared her destination, she could hear all manner of depravity coming through the door.

'Whoever's taking part will wish they only get a year's worth of detentions by the time I'm through with them!' She thought viciously. Between the headache of trying to organize and run the Triathlon along with the usual shenanigans from running a school; Minerva was seriously considering putting in her resignation.

She pulled her wand and prepared to breach the door just as the sounds of bleating barnyard animals spilled out. "Dear Merlin..."

The door exploded open, banging off the wall and rebounded as Minerva strode into the room, fury etched on her face. "What the..." She began only to have her reprimand die in her throat. Sitting on chairs in front of her, fully dressed and spaced three feet apart was second year Slytherin Vincent Crabbe and his coterie who all cheered and rang cowbells in celebration.

"SURPRISE!!"

Sitting off to the side was Professors Flitwick and Sprout, the former was practically rolling off his chair, nearly laughing himself to death. Pomona smirked at her long-time friend, "Did you really think that we wouldn't have a hand in this? Besides, it seems awfully reminiscent of that 'encounter' you had with Tommy Stimson back in our 3rd year."

Filius chortled, "I remember that! The Head of House at the time, what's-her-face Kliener nearly booted you off the Quidditch team as punishment!"

Minerva’s face was a mix of warring emotions. She blankly accepted a Goblet of juice from Vinny and quaffed it down. It was only when she spotted the Weasley twins grinning victoriously, did she start to panic, "What did you do to the juice?!"

Vinny put on an innocent look that fooled no one, "Me? I didn't do anything." He glanced over to the Weasley Twins, "They on the other hand..."

Minerva sank into a chair and just groaned pitifully as she began to feel her magic react to whatever had been added. "I need a vacation..."

Pomona snickered at her friend’s lamenting, “Ah cheer up, Min! It could be worse, you know.”

Minerva spared her a disdainful look, “How? How could it be worse?”

“The twins could’ve spiked the drink to turn you into one of Miss Lovegood’s creatures. The ones that defy explanation and you’d swear she was making them up just to get attention.” the latter giggled.

Minerva gestured at her face, “I felt something change when I drank the juice. What did they do?”

Filius held up a mirror, “It’s not that bad, all things considering.” She saw a lion’s face staring back at her. “The mane is a little odd considering that only the males have them.”

Pomona caught Vinny’s attention and waved him over. “Excellent job you did here, Mr. Crabbe. What inspired you to prank the Headmistress?”

Vinny beamed at the praise and shrugged, “I actually got the idea from Harry Potter who mentioned that he’d found a book from his family library of all sorts of pranks, pratfalls, and other funny ideas in a trunk the day after the muggleborns were taken from Hogwarts.”

Minerva let out a low groan, “Would that book happen to have been called ‘The Potter Book of Prompts and Promises: An Anthology of What Might’ve Been or Could’ve Happened’?”

“Yeah, it was. How’d you know?” Vinny looked surprised.

“I saw it once in Albus’ office when he was at some Ministry meeting and got curious. I had stopped by to drop off some paperwork and spotted it propped up on a shelf. It struck me as odd that he would have a Potter book in his office since they’re enchanted to never being able to leave Potter Manor’s Library unless it’s in the hands of a member of the family.” She turned a beady eye onto the pre-teen, “Please tell me he didn’t give you any other ideas from that book?” At his obvious hesitation, she let out another sigh of frustration, “Just…keep it clean.”

Monday 6 February, 2023; Grimmauld Place, afternoon

Sirius poked his head into the attic when he heard the sounds of high-pitched giggling. He spotted a group of younger-looking elves huddled around a pile of magazines. “What’s going on?”

The gaggle of elves froze, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “N, nothing!” The nominal leader of the group squeaked.

Sirius wasn’t fooled, “Come on, fess up. What did you find?” He held out his hand for the magazine to be handed over. He coughed with laughter when the elf handed over a nudie magazine. “How old are all of you?”

The leader pointed to himself, “I’m almost twelve years old. Otto there is only nine.” Otto puffed up and angrily declared that he was nine and a half, thank you very much!

Sirius was fighting to choke down his amusement. “Do your parents know where you are?” At their heads shaking, he shooed them all out, “Far be it from me to not encourage the next generation of mischief makers from getting into trouble, I daresay your parents might have a problem with you learning about human anatomy in this manner. Go on, get.”

The pre-teen elves vanished which allowed Sirius to let his laughter escape. He wiped his eyes and sighed with amusement, “Ah, kids.”

Saturday 11 February, 2023; Potter’s Threads Studio

Harry opened the door to let Tracey and her mother enter, “I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait to show off what I came up for you.”

Tracey’s eyes ranged about the interior of the house, “I’m glad I could come too. The Snake Pit has been tense lately ever since the Prophet announced You-Know-Who’s final demise. I swear some of the older students from dark families keep hoping that it’s nothing more than a joke.”

Petunia frowned, “I hope that they’re not doing anything harmful.”

Tracey’s mum, Marie Davis, waggled her hand. “Nothing really, the occasional stinging hex but the moods they’re giving off; let’s just say that everyone’s been walking on eggshells around them.”

Tracey giggled, “Well, not everyone. There is one powerful force in the castle that has been entirely unaffected by their sour moods.”

Harry laughed, “Let me guess, the Puffs.” Tracey tapped her nose knowingly setting him off again. “Anyhow, come on. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” He led her out to his studio. Like everyone else who’d never been, the studio was a sight to behold. Harry handed her a leotard and pointed towards the changing screen.

While she was getting changed, he asked her what was being planned for Valentine’s Day. “Aww, Harry. Are you asking little ol’ me to be your date?”

“Hardly. One, we’re too young to be getting all mushy; and two, we go to different schools. Besides, I think Hermione would have something to say about you trying to muscle into her territory.”

Tracey poked her head out from behind the screen. “Yeah? Do tell.”

“Well, I overheard her talking to her friends about being the first to lay ‘claim’ to me back during our first year. I think she was kidding but you know how girls’ minds work. You’re all weird,” Harry pouted.

Tracey giggled at his grumping as she stepped out and headed over to the platform Harry had pointed to. “So what’s the story between you two?”

Harry shrugged, “We met on the firstie train up to Hogwarts last year and both got sorted into Gryffindor. Not much beyond that, I suppose. She did get all excited when she found out about Potter’s Threads on the ride north. I really don’t know to be honest. Our friendship just sort of grew from there.” He started pinning and draping the toile fabric onto her body while Petunia and Marie watched.

“So any idea what’s going to happen with the Triathlon?” Harry asked her around a mouthful of pins.

“Yeah, the second task is going to be a dueling competition between the Champions leading up to a semi-final round against Professor Snape then whoever’s left is going to face off against Professor Flitwick.”

Harry bobbed his head appreciatively as he slipped a pin into a fold to hold it in place. “Sweet. I hope we’ll get to see it.”

“Tracey,” Petunia spoke up. “Do you know your Champion well?”

The girl shrugged, “As well as anyone, I suppose. Why?”

“Is he the kind of person who would fight dirty in a duel?”

Both she and her mum sniffed derisively, “Without a doubt.”

Petunia pursed her lips, “Well, I had some ideas for creative spells that could be used against an opponent.”

Harry paused in his pinning to stare curiously at his aunt, “Really?”

She nodded, “You’re not the only one who studies magic, you know. I did earn my rating as a hedge witch after a lot of self-study.”

Marie was interested now, “Which spells?”

“Well, just off the top of my head, there’s ‘imbre scelerisque pulvis’ which would spray chocolate dust all over your opponent.” The other magicals in the room started choking on their laughter. Marie asked her when such a spell would be needed. “Think about it, if your opponent is invisible; the dust would make them visible. Chocolate dust is an irritant, especially if it gets in your eyes, nose, or throat; it’ll make you cough and your eyes tear up.”

Marie’s face had a weird glint, “Inspired. What else have you got?”

“’Uvam oris’ which gives you a sour mouth akin to the pucker factor after sucking on a lemon, or how about ‘aestuosi manus’ which translates to sweaty hands. If your hands are slippery from sweat, you can’t easily hold onto your wand.”

Tracey stared in awe at Mrs. Dursley, “Ma’am, you’d make an excellent Slytherin with sneaky spells like that.”

Petunia puffed up with pride, “Thank you, my dear.”

After the mock-up was completed, it was handed off to Sunny who began creating the pattern before cutting out and sewing the real materials to be used. Once that was done, she handed it back to Harry so he could adjust it as needed while Tracey stood there watching the two work. Neither boy nor elf spoke much and what they did say was heavily jargon-laced.

“Adjust the armsyce for the left sleeve another five millimeters…”

“You want the gather on the cuffs?”

“No, leave them as is. Where did you put the overlay?”

Round and round the two sewists went, much to everyone’s amusement. Marie quietly mentioned to Petunia that she was surprised to learn that elves knew anything about muggle sewing techniques. Petunia replied that she’d asked that very same question and it turned out that there was no difference in technique. “The biggest difference comes from the enchantments that are applied after the garment has been completed.“

Their attention was drawn back by Harry clearing his throat, “Ladies, allow me to present to you Tracey Davis and her new Slytherin-inspired Snake corset ensemble. (Tracey stepped out from behind a curtain to the awed approval of her mum.) She’s wearing an iridescent sparkle blouse with three oval cutouts on the chest, and mesh sleeves. An overbust corset with a snake motif has a lace-up closure in the rear. A pair of mid-thigh length green denim shorts with five deep pockets, single button closure, and zipper fly plus a pair of soft boxcalf-skin Chelsea boots finish off the outfit.”

“Oh, Tracey; you look absolutely divine!” Her mum exclaimed.

Harry and Tracey shared a knowing grin. “But wait! There’s more! (He motioned for Tracey to go change) This next outfit is perfect for those casual jaunts with friends yet is classy enough to wear to a family gathering.” Tracey reappeared and took the stage again. “This outfit features Chelsea boots again except in black. A pair of dark blue jeans with four pockets this time, single button closure, and zipper fly. Her top has a halter-neckline and features a basketweave front panel that trail off to loose-flowing strips. The rear of the top is open-backed and is a single piece of the same fabric used in the front. The neckline is held together with a bow-tie off strap. Finishing off the look is a yellow-orange blazer with a single inner zippered breast pocket, and two outer card pockets.”

Tracey sauntered as best she could on the short runway and modeling platform to the incredulous looks of her mum. Petunia caught Harry’s eye and winked. “I think you’ve got a pair of winners here, Harry.”

Harry beamed at the praise then motioned for Tracey to take off the outfit so Sunny could fix his alterations.

Tuesday 14 February, 2023; Whitehall and Hogwarts

Love was in the air at both schools. The wall-sized communications mirrors had been activated so both sides could wish each other a happy day, chat with old friends, or just see how the other side ‘lived.’ Tracey caused a near-riot when she stepped into the Hall wearing her Snake Corset outfit Harry’d made her. She was immediately set upon by the other girls and whisked away for a ‘consultation.’

 Lockhart had overly redecorated the Great Hall with large, lurid pink flowers. Heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling, and he was wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations. Unfairly, in his opinion, Minerva had nixed the idea of hiring dwarves dressed up as cupids to deliver singing telegrams to the students. He joyously greeted everyone as they entered the Great Hall. “Happy Valentine’s Day! And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion. Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!" Both teachers looked ready to disembowel the fop in the most gruesome ways possible.

Olivia shook her head derisively when she heard his announcement and shared a commiserating glance with her colleague, “It’s a wonder why you haven’t banned the teaching of love potions at your school. I can only imagine the scandal if one of your pureblood heiress were to become pregnant from someone of lower class, or the enemy of their family. Here, we classify such potions as date-rape drugs and treated as such accordingly.”

Minerva paled then frantically reached for a quill and pad of paper, “Merlin, that’s a good point. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of it like that. Severus!” He looked up then made his way over. She pointed out what Olivia had mentioned regarding love potions which caused his already pallid face to become almost waxy-looking as he fought his revulsion and promised to make the necessary changes.

“You know what would be fun?” Olivia later commented to Minerva. “Is if we could sponsor an exchange of students and staff to swap schools to see how the ‘other side’ does things.”

Minerva thought about it, “I foresee one big problem with that, and a couple of smaller ones. The smaller issue is that the younger students, your transplants for example, already know how we operate.”

“And the big one?”

“I’m afraid that if my staff or older students see how things are done there, they might never want to come back.” Both women chuckled at the mental image of the Hogwarts staff down on their knees begging to stay. “I think the only one who’d be happy to stay here, if you can ever describe him as being ‘happy’ would be Severus, our Potions Master.” She glanced over to where the man half-heartedly fended off Emily’s amorous advances. Something had clearly changed between the two of them; whatever it was, she was happy for their burgeoning relationship.

At the Hufflepuff table…

“You ready, Luna?” Ginny nervously asked her friend.

Luna looked like she was channeling Elton John with the feather boa and messy black-haired wig plus a glittery boy’s Gryffindor uniform she’d scrounged from who-knew-where. “Luna? I thought I was Harry Potter today.”

Ginny scoffed and tugged on her friend’s arm, “Come on before I lose my nerve.” The two girls made their way up to the space in front of the gigantic mirror. “Is Harry Potter there today?” She called out to the Whitehall cafeteria.

Harry stood up in the back and waved politely. “I’m here. Hello, Ginny.”

An elf popped in and deposited a cassette player on the table. “The enchantments barring muggle devices from working have been taken down for the day. Miss Weasley be having fun now.” It said before popping away.

On the other side, Harry shared a confused glance with another boy when the music began playing (a bunch of the muggleborns cheered at the song choice) as Ginny began dancing and singing along:

“I threw a wish in the well
Don't ask me, I'll never tell
I looked to you as it fell
And now you're in my way
I trade my soul for a wish
Pennies and dimes for a kiss
I wasn't lookin' for this
But now you're in my way.”

“Your stare was holdin'
Ripped jeans, skin was showin'
Hot night, wind was blowin'
Where you think you're goin', baby?”

“Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy
But here's my number, so call me maybe
It's hard to look right at you, baby
But here's my number, so call me maybe
Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy
But here's my number, so call me maybe
And all the other boys try to chase me
But here's my number, so call me maybe.”

As Ginny sang and danced, Luna sauntered around the space in front, tossing her hair, waggling her eyebrows; all-in-all having fun putting on a show to the raucous laughter of the others as she pretended to be a blinged up Harry Potter. A dozen or so muggleborns on the Whitehall side formed an impromptu mob as they joined in to sing the chorus.

Minerva just thumped her head on the table in exasperation. “If it’s not James Potter and his band of misfits, it’s the Weasleys.”

Pomona chuckled as she patted her friend on the back comfortingly. “With any luck, neither William nor Charlie will be having kids for quite a while.”

Minerva rolled her head to the side to grumble, “It’s not them I’m worried about. I’m more terrified of the day when Fred and George get married and have kids of their own. I think on that day, if and when the birth announcements are made, I’ll be handing in my resignation.”

The Leaky Cauldron

One segment of the wizarding population certainly wasn’t feeling the love as they gathered for what could potentially be the last time. The Wizard Economic Council was quiet for the first time in recent memory; each member was muddling over what was left of a once bustling economic center. Things had gotten so bad financially that Gringotts had started issuing orders of foreclosure on the shops, and in some cases, their homes. In total, nearly ninety percent of Diagon Alley was utterly deserted; not even during the height of Voldemort’s reign of terror was the Alley so quiet. A letter had arrived from the collective muggleborn owned and operated shops outlining a proposal for expansion which is what led to the current situation in the Leaky.

Garrick Ollivander sat with his arms crossed over his chest, a glass of a mild ale gripped in one hand as he surveyed the room. “You all know what needs to be done, so why don’t you just swallow the proverbial potion and do it?”

Peter from Porter’s Trunks, the Council’s nominal leader ever since Everhard Blomfield had left for greener pastures balefully glared at the wandmaker. “It’s not that simple. Who knows what kinds of demands they’ll try to push on us?”

Aberforth snorted derisively, “Well, it just so happens that I do know. I took the liberty to speak with the muggleborn shopkeepers about what sorts of things they’d like to see happen if they were to ever expand into the Alley.” He dug into his pocket and extracted a scroll. “Their ‘demands’ gentlemen are as follows: the Alley needs to be outfitted with… e-lec-tric-ity as well as felly-tones, excuse me telephones. The pureblood population must accept that they lost and that there will be no more ‘discounts’ simply because they’re from an established magical family for umpteen generations. Finally, any disrespect and/or bullying will result in permanent banishment from their establishment.” He dropped the scroll on the table, “It all seems perfectly reasonable to me.”

“Of course it does! You’re safely out of reach of the mudbloods up there in Hogsmeade,” someone in the back yelled. Aberforth whirled around and demanded to know who dared to use that disgusting word. When the heckler didn’t respond, he growled that if they didn’t identify themselves, he would install a hostile intent ward around his bar to keep out anyone who had hate in their hearts. The heckler finally and sullenly stood. “Name’s Angus Flint.”

Aberforth scowled, “Figures it’d be you, boy. Consider yourself banned from my bar for life. What you all failed to understand is that Hogsmeade is just as dependent upon the patronage of Diagon Alley as the Alley is upon us. If the Alley fails, so do we; it might be at a slower pace because of the school, but eventually we’d lose out just as well. The requirements set forth by the muggleborn council are completely fair and restrained. They could’ve asked for the stars yet settled for the moon. I don’t see how any of you can stand in their way, quite honestly.”

“Do you know which shops they’ll open?” Michael Dell inquired.

Aberforth consulted the scroll again, “Yeah, they gave me a list. They don’t know which shops will open, just that these are the ones they’re hoping will take a chance. Um, let’s see… a supermarket, something called ‘Starbucks…’ It looks like there’ll be a revamped Flourish and Blott’s bookshop, as well as a reorganized Owl Emporium which will be combined with Magical Menagerie. Some craft supply retailers like Hobbycraft, Cass Art, and Cloth House (Irina Malkin looked pleased at hearing that.) Um, a second-hand shop, a homegoods shop, and a bunch of different restaurants and cafes.”

Someone whistled appreciatively, “That’s a lot of potential there. Do you think it’s possible?”

Aberforth shrugged, “No idea until you all get off your duffs and approve the proposal.”

Saturday 25 February, 2023; Hogwarts Great Hall Second Task for the Triathlon

“Welcome back to the Second Task for the Hogwarts Triathlon!” Minerva announced to the Hall’s spectators as well as the Ministry’s, Leaky Cauldron’s, and Whitehall’s mirrors. “Today’s Task is a dueling competition between our four Champions. They will be facing off against each other then against Professor Snape for the semi-final round then ultimately against Professor Flitwick to determine the winner. A warning and reminder for all, there will be no Unforgiveables or Dark Spells. Anyone caught using them will be immediately disqualified and subject to arrest by the Aurors. If that happens, consider yourself expelled from Hogwarts.” Her face was determinedly set as she stared into each of the Champions’ faces.

She gestured to the Sorting Hat, “Hat, if you’d be so kind to pick the first two duelers?”

The Sorting Hat crunched up on itself as it contemplated his options. “First up is Percy Weasley and Marcus Belby!”

Weasley vs Belby

It was the quickest duel in Hogwarts history when Percy decimated Marcus’ defenses and hit him with an incredible chain spell that blasted the Ravenclaw off the stage, dragged him back, spun him around both in the air and around the dueling piste, then finally suspended him from the rafters with a pretty pink shiny bow delicately perched on his forehead. “Depulso! Accio Belby’s clothes! Nent corpus circa circulum! Facium infectum inflations! Sordida digitos! Oblivisci cogitare!” (Banishment and Summoning charms; spin body around a circle, wet fart, dirty fingers – up someone’s bum, forget to think spells)

When the battle ended and the barrier was brought down, Percy stepped off the platform only to be confronted by Fred and George who stared in awe of their prissy older brother, the one who seemed to always rail against their attempts to liven up the dreary castle. “Percy?”

Percy’s return grin was smug, “Just because I don’t cause chaos like you do, doesn’t mean that I’m incapable of it. I just reserve it for times like this.” His smug grin turned to a victorious look of superiority when his brothers dropped to their knees and started loudly chanting that they weren’t worthy.

Arthur Weasley was spotted on the Ministry feed to be dancing a happy jig to the general amusement of everyone who knew the even-tempered man, while proclaiming to everyone that that was his son! “Go Percy! Weasley for the Win! I’m so proud of you!”

Warrington vs Diggory

The duel between Cassius and Cedric was in contrast a long haul for supremacy. Despite Cedric’s easy, laid-back attitude; he was a down and scrappy fighter when he wanted to be, much like his Houses’ mascot. Cassius learnt the hard way very quickly that whatever he thought he knew about Cedric was quite possibly a smokescreen to hide his true talents. Cedric had Cassius up against the proverbial wall with a spell designed to make him see double, flip his hearing to the opposite ears, and make him believe up was down.

Filius called a temporary halt when the Slytherin barfed all over the piste. “Are you alright to continue, Mr. Warrington?”

Cassius managed to clear his senses and growled darkly at the Puff, “Let me at him.” He cast a silent body double spell several times which created physical copies of himself, all of whom rushed to the front to overwhelm the defiant fifth year. “Uvam oris!” The lemon yellow spell impacted Cedric’s shield and reflected off to the side where it dissipated into the barrier. “Imbre capsicum pulvis!” A fine spray of chili dust spread into the air, coating everyone caught within the cloud and forcing all to start coughing and wheezing from the irritants. While Cedric was fighting to breathe, Cassius hit him with a basic Expelliarmus, effectively ending the match.

Flitwick brought down the piste barrier allowing Poppy to rush onto the platform to administer first aid to a teary-eyed Cedric. Filius awarded the win to Cassius who bowed respectfully to his opponent. “I must say, Mr. Warrington; I wasn’t expecting chili powder to be used as an offensive weapon. Who or where did you find such a spell?”

Cassius glanced up to the Whitehall feed where he spotted Harry sitting with Petunia and Vernon Dursley and bowed in their direction. “Potter’s aunt came up with the original version that used chocolate dust. I just changed it to something spicier.”

The matches between Weasley and Diggory as well as Warrington and Belby were about what anyone expected. Both Slytherin and Gryffindor crushed their opponents, neither Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff had the centuries of animosity built up between them to hold their ground against the stronger of the two Houses (which was a shame if you really thought about it.)

Semi-Final Round 1: Warrington vs Snape

Cassius stared at his Head of House and knew instinctively that Snape would not be taking it easy on him just because they were Slytherins. If anything, Snape would fight harder. Now wasn’t the time for what he considered to be prank spells. When the call was given, he lashed out with a silent, ‘colorum aspectum invertere!’ (Invert sight colors which would swap the color values of everything around the Potions’ Master.) A dull brownish color erupted from his wand only to be banished by Severus who smirked.

“Not bad for a first attempt, Mr. Warrington but you’ll have to do better than that.” He sent back an ankle-noose curse that would've changed into razor wire if it had made contact. Cassius merely stepped out of the way.

Soon, the spells started flying faster than the spectators could keep track of. Anyone who had a sense of dueling, or even fighting, could see that Severus was merely toying with the seventh year teen. Alastair Moody was watching and growling prevarications at both combatants. “Boy needs to step up his game or this’ll end badly for him!”

The dueling piste was soon awash in varying colors as the spells started flying. Flitwick had to call a halt twice to remind the duelers that they were straying dangerously close to the forbidden spells and Unforgiveables.

Cassius finally had enough and used a curse he’d remembered his mother using on his father after one particularly nasty fight, “Simulare dolor maximus mensis!” (Simulate maximum menstrual pain) Severus immediately fell to the floor screaming and clutching his stomach and pelvis. Cassius sauntered over and plucked up his Head’s wand and sneered, “Game over.”

Semi-final Round 2: Weasley vs. Snape

The second round took place after Severus was given time for a break and examination by Poppy to make sure there wasn’t any lasting damage. She clucked her tongue at how dangerous this whole thing had gotten, “Honestly, I don’t know why you couldn’t have gone with a friendly competition to see who could sit through one of Cuthbert’s dry lectures about Goblin Rebellions without falling asleep.”

Percy stood ready as Severus stepped onto the platform. “Are you alright, sir?”

Severus dipped his head respectfully, “I am, thank you for asking. However, do not think for a moment that I shall be taking it easy on you, Mr. Weasley.”

Percy’s face split into a confident smirk, “I wouldn’t dream of it, professor.” He raised his wand in salute as Flitwick opened the round. He sent the professor a ‘Fred and George Special’ which was designed to make their opponent think that there was someone behind them. Severus ignored it and sent out a Jelly Legs jinx which Percy deftly sidestepped and launched out a Spongify curse at the floor effectively turning it into a trampoline.

Severus sneered disdainfully, “You expect me to fall for such a moronic move?” He dodged a stunning spell Percy had just shot at him.

“Not at all, professor. Just I hoped to save you from breaking your nose.” That was the last thing Severus heard before the stunning spell he’d just dodged ricocheted off the barrier and smacked into his unsuspecting back.

Ministry’s Atrium…

With the elimination of Severus, there were many who began to wonder how they were going to break the tie between Cassius and Percy. Some were even wondering what had happened to the dour man’s dueling skill which had been reported as brutal and effective. Alastair was cackling madly as he watched the two teens take down their Potions Master. “I can’t think of a more deserving still-living bastard than Snape to get taken out by a pair of teens who haven’t even graduated. Even better since Weasley there hasn’t even sat his OWLs yet!”

Amelia rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm, “Careful there, Moody. One might think that you’re getting excitable and showing an emotion other than paranoia.”

His fake eye rolled in her direction, “Is that a challenge, Bones?”

She shot him a teasing smile, “If I say yes, will you bend me over your desk and give me a spanking?”

Moody shuddered, “Don’t say things like that out loud, girl! Merlin knows who might overhear you.”

“That’s why I said it, you old codger. More fun for me to see you fending off the scores of randy old witches who somehow got it into their heads that you enjoyed that sort of thing.”

He gave her a scathing look, “Maybe I ought to float the rumor that you like to dress up in Death Eater garb and head down to Knockturn to bash some skulls together.”

Amelia chortled, “That’s rich coming from you. I know for a fact that you do that on your lunch breaks from the Academy.”

Algernon squeezed in between them and settled into a chair, “That’s better. If I have to be the one to keep you two warring kittens from fighting, I might as well get the good seat.” He shot both of them with a quelling glare. “Don’t make me break out the Truthstone.” Both Amelia and Alastair immediately settled down to merely glare impotently at each other.

Back in the Great Hall…

Minerva took the podium after a consultation with Filius, Cassius, and Percy. “Thank you for your patience everyone. It’s the decision of the two Champions, Professor Flitwick, and myself that there will be a three-way Final Round where Mr. Weasley and Mr. Warrington will not only face off against Professor Flitwick, but also each other. (Here, she smirked knowingly) Once again, it comes down to an age-old rivalry. Slytherin against Gryffindor, who will win the Second Task?”

Final Round: Weasley vs Warrington vs Flitwick

If anyone who’d witnessed the fight with Severus thought it was tough, the round with Flitwick was downright terrifying. The diminutive professor held nothing back. His movements were swift and sinuous, lashing out with spells that would’ve given the late, unlamented Dark Lord pause. Yet, for all of Filius’ ferocity, he managed to hold back from going Dark. Sure, he skirted the very edge of the abyss, but he stopped short of actual pain and suffering.

He’d just sent Warrington packing with a bone-breaking curse to his hands which prevented the teen from holding onto his wand. Weasley just changed tactics, he reused the same body doubling spell that Warrington had used on Snape then immediately disillusioned the both of them. The next spell he cast caused a veil of thick fog to settle over the platform. The fog muffled the sound of his voice, making it difficult to know where he was. Flitwick’s face split in a snarl of approval, “I’m impressed, Mr. Weasley. You were certainly holding back in my class.”

He shot at a swirl of fog that turned out to not be his quarry but was merely a trick of the light. “Most impressive… I daresay you’ve been paying attention to your twin younger brothers too. Let it never be said that Weasleys are predictable.” He cast a Ventus charm to dispel the fog only to frown when it just made the fog even thicker. “Curious. When this is all said and done, I hope you’ll be kind enough to share some of your secrets.”

Percy’s voice whispered and floated through the visual soup, “I aim to please, professor…” A barely visible pale blue light struck the Charms professor and flung him up and bound him to the rafters, his wand clattered to the ground.

The audience erupted into thunderous cheers and applause when Percy won the Dueling Competition. On the Ministry screen, Arthur was practically screaming himself hoarse celebrating his son’s win. Molly had arrived who-knew-when and was staring in open-mouthed shock at her normally placid son being so aggressive in his triumphant win over not only Flitwick but Snape as well. The Gryffindors were pounding their fists on their table while chanting ‘Percy! Percy! Percy!’ repeatedly, getting louder each time. Fred and George had set off some of their experimental fireworks which chased each other and the students around the room. Over at Whitehall, the students and staff cheered and applauded with enthusiasm.

Croaker and Amelia noticed the gleam in Alastair’s eye. Algernon nudged her, “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“Bottomless margaritas at Pablo’s?” she quipped jokingly.

Algernon snorted lightly, “I just may take you up on that. No, I was thinking that you ought to extend an offer to Mr. Weasley to recruit him for the Aurors. Alastair would probably demand to take him on as an apprentice before he retires.”

“I would too,” the man in question gruffly replied.

Amelia smiled but shook her head, “I don’t think Mr. Weasley would be suited as an Auror. At least not the public face of the corps. I could see him in more of a support role or even the law side of my department.  I’ve seen his education record and his memory retention is off the chart. This is the lad who is one of the few people who not only read the Hogwarts Charter in its original language, but can quote chapter and verse at a moment’s notice in modern English.”

Croaker pursed his lips with interest. “Maybe I ought to see if I should recruit him to my department, if that’s the case.”

Amelia leveled a wagging finger at him, “Weasley’s mine, Algernon. I won’t have you poaching my best and brightest again. I’m still upset with you for stealing Frank Bertrand away from me.” Algernon just laughingly held up his hands in surrender.

Sunday 5 March, 2023; Hogwarts

Draco was surprised and pleased to see his mother and father walk into the Great Hall that morning. He rose to his feet to greet them. “It’s great to see you both well. I’m curious as to why you’re here though.”

Lucius took his son bracingly by the shoulder. “We have momentous news to share with you. Come, we should discuss this in private.”

Draco was led to a conference room and sat down across from his mother who smiled fondly at him. She slid a box across the table over to him, “Open it. I think you’ll be pleased.”

Plucking the cover open, Draco immediately spotted the seemingly ordinary-looking t-shirt. He glanced up in confusion, “A muggle shirt? From you?”

Lucius smiled amusedly and glanced to his wife, “I told you he’d notice.”

“Oh, hush. I couldn’t think of any magical apparel that would do the job just as well and not cost us terribly so. Go ahead, Draco dear and read what it says on the front.”

Draco picked up the shirt and read the inscription. His eyes slowly grew wider as soon as the message made itself clear, “I’m the world’s best big brother? Mother?”

She gently placed her hand over her stomach, “It’s true. I am with child and have been since January. I expect to give birth around mid to late October.”

“Will it be a boy or a girl?” Draco was hoping for a baby sister to spoil.

“I will be having a daughter,” Narcissa answered his prayer with a knowing smirk of her own. “I will need your help to care for her as well as coming up with a suitable name when the time comes.” She waggled her finger reprovingly, “Nothing that would cause her to be teased when she reaches Hogwarts age, mind you. I will not subject my daughter to the same mental and social anguish as my sister Andromeda did to her daughter. Nymphadora, honestly! That’s just begging for the poor child to be harassed.”

Draco could’ve flown without the aid of a broom as he hugged his parents. “I’m going to be better than the best big brother!”

Wednesday 15 March, 2023; Grimmauld Place

The elf renovation team had completed their work and been dismissed by a proud Dobby as well as receiving praise by Sirius who was in awe of their efforts. “I’m in awe, really. I never thought elves could do such incredible work. I mean, sure I knew they knew how to do the domestic work, but the muggle stuff too?”

Remus agreed with him, “I know, right? So which room do you want to inspect first?”

“Game room. I have a feeling I’ll be there more often than not.”

The two men and an elf traipsed up the stairs to the attic where half the space had been converted into a state-of-the-art ‘man cave’ complete with a ridiculously expensive entertainment center which featured a stereo capable of playing vinyl records, CDs, and cassettes. He also had a wall-sized theater screen for movie nights, a couple of different gaming consoles, and even a billiards table. That wasn’t the end of what was available, just the most visible. “Wow…” Sirius breathed in awe as his traced his fingers over the glass to a pinball machine. “I think I’m in love.” He grinned at his friend, “I can’t wait to see the rest of the place now. I hope Harry likes it.”

Remus clapped his friend on the shoulder, “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Friday 31 March, 2023; Hogwarts, Dungeon level

Draco leant up against the wall as he waited for his quarry to show up so he could exact his revenge even if it wasn’t against the Weasley who’d pranked him in the first place. Those bloody twins had gone too far with their joking around. “It’s one thing to pull a prank that causes me to jump from a mild scare, or to pass gas in public, but the transformation they forced onto me is beyond the pale.” He could still taste those damned peppermint custards which turned him into a ferret for two hours! He’d run off and hid in fear after spotting the appraising looks from the owls as they fluttered overhead. Draco felt lucky that Professor Snape heard about his predicament and intervened by brewing up a counteragent.

“I’d be suicidal if I ever tried to get my revenge against the twins. No, the Puff Weasley will have to do.” His hearing began picking up the excited squealing of first year girls off in the distance.

“Weasley!” Ginny turned at the sound of Draco calling her last name. “You got a moment?”

Down below in the Chamber of Secrets Sandrine awoke to a curious sensation. Hogwarts had reached out to her, alerting the serpent that her friend Ginny was being held hostage by one of their own for who-knew-what reason. She slithered out of her nest and headed for the nearest pipe that would take her to the surface.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: The Third and Final Task for Repairing Fraying Threads

Friday 31 March, 2023; Hogwarts, Dungeon level, fifteen minutes later

Sandrine silently slithered out of the portal that emptied out of what was now the girls’ bathroom. She detected a ghostly presence but ignored it in favor of finding out which miscreant had dared to kidnap her young friend. Her large size prevented her from actually entering any of the classrooms but she could peek inside and if necessary, stick her tongue in to scent the air. It was actually kind of amusing in a way to watch the other humans flee in terror at the sight of her as she continued to hunt. She flinched slightly after she accidentally petrified a couple of the fourth years who caught a glimpse of her in the reflection of the suits of armor. ‘Damn, I should apologize later.’

It took her a couple of minutes of hunting back and forth between empty classrooms and storage rooms before she started picking up the faint traces of Ginny’s perfume.

“Is that… Yes! That’s Ginny’s scent…” She hissed in triumph as she followed the trail down the short flight of stairs that led into the dungeons and into the first branching hallway to the left. More than once she wished Master Salazar had installed a portal down here so she didn’t have to go topside just to return to the dungeons. Hogwarts communicated with her that her quarry was in the first classroom on the right. She tapped on the door with her tail, making it creak dangerously, and pulled back slightly to wait for someone to open it. ‘Petrifaction will be the least of your worries if you harm a single hair on Ginny’s head!’ She thought darkly.

Minerva’s office, prior to Sandrine making her way up to the school…

Minerva growled at the sight of the never-shrinking pile of paperwork that always seemed to appear whenever she thought was completed not two seconds ago. “One of these days, I’m going to figure out how or who keeps generating these damn things. I’d swear I was being pranked!”

The Spirit of Hogwarts appeared in front of her desk. The Spirit wore a robe that encompassed all four Houses with an insignia patch that included the mascots. Normally her bearing was like that of any of the marble sculptures in the castle, stiff and unexpressive. Right that moment, the Spirit actually managed to surprise Minerva by taking a seat and slumping down in it, a pained expression on her alabaster features while rubbing the bridge of her nose with two fingers. There had only been a couple of times recorded in the Headmaster’s Handbook where this occurrence had taken place in the history of the school. According to the notes written by Headmistress Edessa Sakndenberg in 1502, the Spirit of Hogwarts would occasionally react in a more human-like manner if the Headmaster/mistress could be trusted and actually listened to the advice provided by the school’s intelligence. Minerva felt honored that the school trusted her enough to relax her guard around her.

Nonplussed, Minerva automatically offered the Spirit a cup of tea, “Rough day?”

Hogwarts groaned as if suffering from a low-grade migraine, “You don’t know the half of it! I’ve got students wandering around restricted areas despite it being clearly marked, a gaggle of first years trying to ‘storm’ the Forbidden Forest in search of something called a Crumple-horned Snorkack; not to mention all of the lovesick teenagers failing miserably at being sneaky by ‘hiding’ in the broom cupboards. If it wasn’t for the fact that I need the students here giving off the amount of residual magical energy to maintain my sentience, I think I would’ve closed my doors and changed the wards to prevent anyone from getting in.”

Minerva chuckled sympathetically as she rose and retrieved her ‘special bottle’ of whiskey. She poured a healthy measure for the two of them and handed one over. “I’m surprised that the Weasley twins haven’t started a bonfire just for laughs.”

Hogwarts gratefully accepted the glass and took a long pull. “Surprisingly they’ve done nothing I can’t handle this time. They’re currently up on the fourth floor puttering around in their ‘secret’ lair behind that faulty mirror that used to behave like the one in the Snow White story. If I understand them correctly, they’re planning on doing some spring cleaning of their supplies and whatnot in preparation for tomorrow’s festivities. No, the more vexing problem this time lies between the Malfoy child and the youngest Weasley.”

Minerva’s face darkened, “What happened? Did she beat him up?”

Hogwarts shook her head and gave Minerva a short laugh of derision, “Other way around. She’s innocent whereas I’ve been informed by the nearby portraits that he’s kidnapped her and loudly threatened that she would pay for the prank the twins pulled on him. Besides, Malfoys have been traditionally weak when it comes to fisticuffs. I remember Abraxas Malfoy whining about getting roughed up by a Centaur foal who was just barely old enough to stand without wobbling. Anyhow, I’ve sent Sandrine to deal with the brat.” Hogwarts looked off into the distance for a moment before the pained expression returned, “Sandrine’s topside and is hunting them down. You might want to alert your healer that she’s accidentally petrified a few students just off the Main Hallway leading to the Great Hall. Oh good, she’s got him cornered…”

Minerva scowled and fired off a Messenger Patronus to Poppy to let her know. “If Sandrine petrifies Mr. Malfoy, I won’t shed a tear. Just once, I’d love to have a year in which a Malfoy and a Weasley can just coexist without causing trouble. Come on, let’s go repair the effects of teenage idiocy.” She led the way out of her office.

Dungeons, Classroom S2B (Unused Potions laboratory)

Ginny giggled at Draco’s already pallid face rapidly progressing towards chalk-white, “I told you this was a bad idea! Sandrine’s not happy with you by the way. She’s threatening to bust down the walls in order to save me from you.” Said serpent was still outside and knocking on the door, demanding that the boy release his captive.

Draco stopped his pacing to ‘maturely’ stick out his tongue at her, “If they’d only waited one more day, everyone would’ve realized this was just supposed to be an April Fool’s day prank!” He threw a shaky hand at the door, “Now, I’ve got Sandrine lying in wait for me to come out to exact her revenge on me for ‘kidnapping’ you and I’m certain the Headmistress is going to come down to finish off whatever’s left of my carcass.”

Ginny unhelpfully nodded her head and offered other gruesome possibilities of what lie in store for the ill-timed prank. She draped herself on top of the teacher’s desk, “Forget Sandrine and the Headmistress, just wait until Fred and George catch wind of what you’re planning on doing to me. I’d bet that they would make you eat something that turns you into something worse than just a ferret for a couple of hours.” She idly kicked her feet in the air, “So, you do know the rules for hostage holding, right?”

Draco snorted and drawled, “Yeah, I could wind up as a pig and be the twin brother to Ronald. What rules?”

“He’s not that bad,” she argued but relented at his look of disbelief. “Okay, he’s still got some issues, but at least now it’s easier to distract him away from food. (She flipped her hair back behind her shoulder dramatically) So, Great Kidnapper of the Beautiful Redheaded Goddess that is I, Ginny Weasley? What’re your plans now?” She leant back and put on a ‘sultry’ look on her face then pouted when Draco teased her by asking if she was suffering from a stomachache. “As for the rules, you’re supposed to provide food, water, and a teddy bear to keep me quiet.”

“Am not. You’re making that up.”

Bang! Bang! Bang! “Mr. Malfoy! Open this door this instant!” Minerva’s strident voice interrupted any more conversation.

Draco yelled back, “Not until my demands are met!”

“What demands? I have received no demands,” Minerva’s voice dropped from yelling to just merely loud enough to get through the door.

Draco frantically hunted around the room before snatching a spare sheet of paper he spied still lying on the teacher’s desk and a pen from his pocket. He scribbled out a hasty list of ideas (with Ginny’s laughing lack of help) and slipped it under the door. “If these demands aren’t met or if you try to interfere, I’ll force Ginny to suffer from the most disgusting punishment possible!” He flicked a half-hearted sneer in the redhead’s direction after catching sight of her overacting the part of a damsel in distress. “Cut it out, Weasley. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I can’t help it; this is funnier than the time that the Twins convinced Ron to eat an entire basket of rotten apples by telling him that they would make him stronger than a Troll.”

Draco stopped in his tracks to stare in disbelief, “And he fell for that?! That has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of, even if it does involve Ronald.”

Ginny bobbed her head, giggling at the memory. “It’s true. He was as sick as a dog for three whole days until Mum could take him to Saint Mungo’s.”

“Why’d she wait so long?”

Ginny shrugged indifferently, “I think she wanted to let him suffer for being such an idiot. She walloped the twins something fierce though.” She hopped down from her perch and paced in the opposite direction of Draco’s pacing just to be contrary, “So, let’s see what sorts of ‘punishments’ we can come up with. Ooh, how about you tie me to a chair and give me a makeover?”

Draco scowled at her distracting mirrored pacing, “Quit copying me. I thought girls like getting makeovers?”

She shook her head and booped his nose, “Only if we’re the ones giving them. On top of that, we especially don’t like it if they’re from boys, like my brothers, who don’t know the first thing about make-up.”

He ineffectually tried to swat her hand away from his face, “Quit it. Let’s put that on the list of maybes. How about I force feed you to eat something truly disgusting that not even your brother would touch?”

Ginny’s face greened a bit and sat down again, “I don’t know, that’s a pretty short list. What did you have in mind?” Draco pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. She gasped at the sight of it, “You were already planning on it?!”

He laughed, “Of course! Boy minds immediately drift towards disgusting foods or acts of bravery as a way to demonstrate our prowess. You ought to know that, you’re the one with six older brothers. Ok, here’s an idea. How about I threaten to feed you a Brussel sprouts and head cheese pie slathered in pickled eel juice?”

“Bleh! Gross!”

“Or how about a deep dish pie of sliced calamari and clam sauce, topped with onion and garlic pig’s feet?”

“Draco! That’s disgusting!” She playfully shoved him away from her. “How about instead of food, you threaten to shave my head?”

Draco shook his head and gently carded his fingers through her hair. “No, I happen to like your hair. Maybe if I were to style it into something hideous instead? I wonder how you’d look with spiky hair or a Mohawk.”

Ginny blushed at the faint praise, “Really? You like my hair?”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s soft and long; it flows like water, perfect for me to let slip through my fingers.”

“Aww…”

Draco gave her what he imagined was a suave smirk, a look that was clearly working since it caused Ginny’s insides to squirm happily for some reason and to give him a look of longing in return. “You know what would be funny? If you and I were to become friends if only to watch our parents force themselves to be civil to each other.”

“Or if we ever got married to each other? Merlin, can you imagine your father and mine having to ‘play nice’ during the holidays?” The imagined tension of attraction between them broke as they both laughed at the mental image that conjured.

Their touching moment was broken by the sound of Minerva’s now-amused voice coupled with Severus’ deeper and clearly annoyed tones. “Mr. Malfoy, I have brought Professor Snape with me to prove that I’ve met your demands.” The two kids could hear her barely stifled laughter through the door.

“Malfoy, I’m going to assign you detention for life once this is all over.” Severus drawled; disgust evident in his tone of voice. “Quit laughing, Emily.”

Ginny looked at Draco with curious eyes, “What did you demand?”

Draco’s ear tips pinked with embarrassment, “I was pressed for time! I demanded that Snape change into something so hideous that it would make Dumbledore gag.”

Ginny hung her head back as a snort of laughter escaped her lips, “Oh, you are so dead!”

Saturday 1 April, 2023; Hogwarts Great Hall

The Hall was bustling with punctuated bouts of laughter whenever a ‘Weasley Special’ hit an unsuspecting victim in honor of April Fool’s day. There were students (and the occasional staff member) who now resembled bizarre amalgamations of creatures, colors, or effects scattered about thanks to the potions, creams, or spells provided by Fred and George who were coincidentally celebrating their fourteenth birthday.

Draco’s ill-fated prank featured center stage as a warning of what not to do, especially since it involved a very-unhappy Severus Snape who now had to endure the gentle teasing from Professor Hall. “I remember this one time during the late sixteen hundreds when such an outfit would’ve…”

“Emily, please. I have no desire to know what that outfit would’ve inspired,” he subtly squeezed her hand. He leant over to whisper silkily, “I’d much rather you demonstrate how it makes you feel when we get back to my office.” Her wide-eyed look of anticipation made him smirk, “I expect an in-depth demonstration, preferably performed several times just to make sure we’re clear on all possible outcomes…”

“You…heh, and we…hungh…” She burbled dreamily to his amusement.

Hufflpuff table

Luna stared in disbelief at the retelling of her best friend’s tale of being kidnapped and held against her will for Draco’s dastardly entertainment. “I don’t believe that happened.”

Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder and batted her eyes prettily, “Why? You don’t think that I could hold my own against him?”

Luna shook her head whilst still munching on her syrup-drenched waffle stick, “No, I think you were in the thick of it and helping him.”

“It’s funnier if we go with my way,” Ginny crinkled her nose cutely. “Did you see the outfit that Professor Snape had to wear? I didn’t know some of those colors existed!” She dug into her pocket and handed over the photograph of their dour Potions Master.

Luna started laughing at the sight of Snape’s new look, “Oh my! That’ll keep the Nargles away and might even attract the Willy Hoppersnatchers! They like colorful patterns, you see. It helps them defend against the Bottom Snifflehangers which like to eat their nests.”

Ginny frowned at hearing that. Luna only brought out the mythical creatures whenever she was stressed about something or someone. “Luna? What’s bothering you?”

Luna’s eyes grew wider than normal and squeaked, “Um, nothing?”

“Luna…”

The blonde’s shoulders slumped, “Fourth year Zoe Wannamaker’s been telling everyone that I’m loony and ought to have my wand snapped and me banished to Saint Mungo’s.”

Ginny’s eyes darkened dangerously as her magic sparked, “Which House is she in?”

“Ravenclaw.”

Ginny snapped up to her feet and bellowed towards the table where the Ravens sat, “Zoe Wannamaker! How dare you!”

The girl in question peeled herself away to disdainfully glance in Ginny’s direction. “How dare I what, Weasley?”

Ginny pointed imperiously down at a visibly cringing Luna who kept ineffectually trying to get her friend to leave it alone. “How dare you accuse Luna Lovegood of being loony and threatening to snap her wand before dumping her at Saint Mungo’s!”

The whole room went deadly silent. Even Professor Hall’s eyes turned from her usual purple to an angry orange at what she heard. Severus, surprisingly, was seen slowly rising to his feet to intervene if necessary.

Zoe sneered, “What’s your problem, Weasley? The girl’s obviously crazy since those fantastical creatures have never been documented. If they were real, which they’re obviously not, there’d be a book about them.”

Ginny pulled her wand and began muttering and chanting something that sounded otherworldly. A heavy thump on the Ravenclaw table sent the occupants scrambling for cover as some…thing appeared. It was covered in scaly armor that glistened and oozed something that stank something awful, its six limbs simultaneously formed and reformed into pincers, feet, and even human-like hands. Its body seemed to morph between something that resembled a cross between a slug and a serpent and its head looked like something that only Hagrid would love. The mouthful of razor-sharp fangs dripped with toxic-looking saliva and there was an unholy light that glinted within its eight eyes that stared deep into Zoe’s before hers rolled up in the back of her head as she fainted.

Ginny approached the creature calmly, “Thank you, Reggy.”

The creature vanished leaving behind an ordinary-looking elf cackling with manic glee, “Always a pleasure to helping a Weasley cause chaos.” Reggy popped away leaving the others shocked into silence.

Pomona had jumped up to defend her charges, her mouth gaping open and closed in confusion at the incredible scene that had just occurred before her. “Miss Weasley? Was that…?”

“A prank against Zoe? Yes, it was but at the same time it was payback for her insults she’s been saying against Luna.”

The Hall practically erupted into hoots of laughter, cheers, and thunderous applause. Puffs of all years started pounding on the table with their fists while chanting her name. Fred and George scooped her up and paraded their little sister about the room declaring for all to hear that she was clearly the Heiress of Chaos and Mayhem before returning her to the table and bowing at her feet. Pomona raised her glass in salute, “Five points for sticking up for a friend, Miss Weasley. Will someone please take Miss Wannamaker down to the infirmary?” Filius said he’d do it since he obviously needed to have a word with the girl about her unkind words. He was heard muttering that Zoe had lost her chance of becoming prefect and could expect to lose her Hogsmeade privileges for the rest of the year if not beyond.

A prefect leant over to Ginny, “So all that wand waving and silly words was what then?”

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly as she sipped on a glass of juice, “Just a bit of theater while I spoke to Hogwarts and let her know what I needed. My dad’s said that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it and as long as it’s not permanently harmful to other people.”

The prefect thumbed over to the Slytherin table, “So I’ve got to know. What’ve you got planned to retaliate against what Malfoy put you through?”

Ginny giggled and shook her head, “I don’t have to. He got what he deserved.” She glanced over at the sullen pre-teen who was sitting alone at the Slytherin table. He had dark rings under his eyes from a lack of sleep. “I heard that someone slipped him a charmed Chocolate Frog card that chirped like a hidden cricket early this morning.”

The bench creaked as Vinny joined them, a triumphant look creased his face. “That someone was me. I got the idea from Harry Potter. He’s got this book of pranks and whatnot that he’s been sharing with his friends. You should’ve seen what Greg did.”

The prefect waved him on, “Come on, you can’t just leave us hanging without knowing. What did he do?”

Vinny coughed with laughter, “Draco has this annoying habit of swaggering into the common room every morning and announcing that he smells ‘peasants.’ Well, Greg decided to ‘mishear’ him and filled his room with ‘pheasants’ instead! There were feathers everywhere!”

Friday 14 April, 2023; Whitehall cafeteria

Classes had been canceled for the day so that attendees at the Ministry and the students at Whitehall could attend the Quidditch semi-final match.The tension throughout the spectator stands at Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch was tense, even the spectators at the Leaky and Ministry were keyed up with anticipation. Not only was this a playoff between the eternal enemies of Gryffindor and Slytherin, but it was also the game that would determine who got to play up against the Wimbourne Wasps as part of the Hogwarts Triathlon side-show. Reputations were on the line, the players had trained hard and all hoped to be the one who got the honor of representing their school against the professional team. The entire school was in attendance; Minerva had the communication mirrors set up so that Whitehall, the Ministry, and the Leaky Cauldron attendees pay witness to the historic showdown. There were even rumors that betting pools had begun on who would win the game. When Ginny heard that, she placed the bet of her remaining stash of Chocolate Frogs that McGonagall would blow her stack if she ever got a hold of the bettors.

Third year Puff, April Kliener laughed, “Three to one says that it’s your brothers who are running the school’s side.”

Ginny sniffed disdainfully, “No bet. I know they are. My bet is what happens when McGonagall gets wind of it.”

Harry was sitting in the cafeteria with his feet up and a sewing project in his hands while he, along with the others in his school, waited for the game to get started. Near the rear of the room, Dean was getting his Terrific Talking Text banner set up while chatting with a couple of the professors. He spotted Neville claiming a spot in the stands, “Hey, Nev! Professor Longbottom!” He waved to get his friend’s attention and received a wave in return. He turned to Kevin who’d just sat down with his snack, noting that the teen had a plate of nachos. “Where did you get nachos?”

Kevin slurped down a cheese laden tortilla chip, “Brought it from home. I had it in stasis in my locker.”

Harry scowled, “Lucky. All I got for lunch is a tuna and bean salad, an apple, and a bottle of water. Sometimes I think Aunt Petunia doesn’t love me.”

Kevin snickered at his friend’s complaint, “Then you ought to learn how to cook for yourself. It’s not like nachos requires a degree in the culinary arts, you know.” He popped another laden tortilla chip into his mouth and crunched happily. “Seriously, this whole lunch took me about ten minutes to make and half of that time was browning the meat.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Harry groused before returning to his project.

“What’re you making this time?” Kevin gestured to the lump of fabric in Harry’s hands.

“Nothing fancy, it’s just a bucket hat to keep me occupied until the game gets started.”

“You gonna to include anything special into it?”

Harry shrugged, “I’m already using glow-in-the-dark thread. Why? What’d you have in mind?”

Kevin scowled at the stain on his shirt where a bit of tomato had fallen and magically scoured it away. “Um, how about an enchantment that starts beeping, or makes a funny noise whenever the heat reaches a certain temperature?”

Harry bobbed his head appreciatively, “I like that. Oh, how about I combine it with a preset UV index number just in case it happens to be cloudy? Sometimes it can get hot even when it’s cloudy out.”

Hermione and Lavender wandered over just then, the latter armed with a couple of food trays since Hermione had a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. “Hello boys. Do you mind if we join you?” Kevin made room for the pair to have a seat while gesturing at the trays in silent question (his mouth was still munching on the nachos.) “Hermione’s carrying Ix so I volunteered to act as pack mule.”

Harry cocked his head curiously, “What do you mean you’re carrying Ix? Doesn’t she just ride in your hood?”

Hermione gently removed the cover from the bundle revealing a featherless Ix looking back up and chirping quietly. “She just had a Burning Day so I’ve been playing nursemaid.” Ix squawked something rude which caused Hermione to crack up laughing. “Aw, come on! You know you like being pampered, so let me have my fun. I want to give my new-old sweetest angel the very best for her ‘special day.’ Oh, that reminds me, when you get to the stage where you’re effectively a teenager, that means I get to give you ‘The Talk’.”

Lavender rolled her eyes and shook her head at her best friend’s antics, “Ignore her, she’s been like this all day. Ix is older than everyone in this entire school combined yet Granger Danger here insists on acting like a doting overly-sweet mummy to her precious baby bird.”

Hermione ‘maturely’ stuck her tongue out at her friend, “You’re just jealous.” She primly sat down and ignored Lavender’s teasing grin. “So how much longer until this game gets started?”

The announcer’s voice rang out a moment later, “Welcome everyone! To the Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Final match to determine who will get to square off against the Wimbourne Wasps!”

Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Final: Gryffindor vs Slytherin

“The bludger gets smacked from Weasley to Weasley, it just barely misses Flint! The Quaffle is now in possession of Johnson who throws it to Spinnet! She’s making a mad dash for the hoops…only to throw it back to Bell who shoots and scores! The total is a hundred and ten to ninety, Gryffindor!” Lee Jordan, acting as Quidditch commentator yelled excitedly into his microphone for the audience listening in.

“Flint passes the Quaffle to Pucey! Ooh, that’s a tough break! You gotta be on your toes around the Weasley twins even this high up! The Quaffle’s been intercepted by Bell, she ducks under Higgs in a valiant attempt to mess up her run, she shoots! She scores again! Gryffindor is now up a hundred and twenty! Go Lions!”

The game went on and as the Slytherins were getting trounced, their methods became more brutal. Twice Madam Hooch had to call for a time-out to reprimand one of the silver and green clad Beaters for unfairly attacking the Lions’ Chaser line. As a result of the latest attempt of blatching by the Slytherin Beater Lucian Bole, Alicia Spinnet was currently getting a black eye tended to by Madam Pomfrey while high above it all, both Seekers kept an eye out for the Snitch.

Four hours into the game, the score had climbed up into the rarified ranges of 510 to 500, favor Slytherin. Both sides had racked up the points to the point where win or lose, this game was going to be long remembered. Minerva tightly gripped the railing as she pleaded with whatever deity was listening to give her team the best chance to catch the Snitch and end this slaughter. The sun finally came out from behind a cloud, its rays illuminating the Snitch from where it hovered just below the speaker to Lee’s megaphone. Seekers Higgs and McLaggen immediately shot off after it, racing each other, neck and neck while Lee was screaming himself hoarse trying to cover both arenas.

Closer and closer the two Seekers raced each other, getting to within a fingerbreadth away from the golden shell of the Snitch. Higgs poured as much of his magic into his broom for that final push and…

“SLYTHERIN SEEKER TERENCE HIGGS HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS SIX HUNDRED AND SIXTY POINTS! NEXT STOP, SLYTHERIN AGAINST WIMBOURNE!” Lee bellowed even though his team had lost (despite his ‘neutrality’ as announcer, he was crushed.)

Down on the pitch…

The Slytherins were cheering themselves into a frenzied state while the teams landed. Flint dismounted his broom and trotted over to where Wood was sobbing uncontrollably. “Good game, Wood.” He clapped the distraught team captain on the shoulder. “Hey, listen; I’ve got a proposition for you and your team.”

Oliver Wood valiantly pulled himself together to face Flint, “What sort of proposition?”

Marcus glanced at his team as they headed over, “How about you join our team when we go up against Wimbourne? One joint team competing together against the professionals? I mean yeah, Slytherin won this game…but it’d still be a Hogwarts team who goes up against the big boys.” A sly smirk crossed his face as he explained his idea to show the world that just because their two Houses might have a long-standing animosity at school, didn’t mean that they couldn’t put those feelings aside to play Quidditch to represent the honor that is Hogwarts.

Oliver shared a glance with his team mates, “That’s downright sneaky, Flint. I’m guessing you’d have us play as reserve?”

Flint nodded “Yeah, chances are likely though that you’d get rotated in quick enough. What do you say?”

A quick consultation was held amongst the Lions before Oliver returned and shook Marcus’ proffered hand, “We accept, and you’re right. That was a good game. One that’ll be remembered for years to come and go down in the annals of history.”

As Flint headed back over to the Slytherin locker room, he was intercepted by Severus. “That was…unusually altruistic, especially for you, Mr. Flint.”

Marcus Flint smugly grinned, “Not really, sir. By joining the team as reserves, Wood obviously didn’t realize that it means we get to call the shots and lord it over them that we won the semi-finals against them forever. Even if we lose against the Wasps, which I suspect we will; it’ll go down in Hogwarts History that Slytherin is the clear winner.”

Ministry Atrium

Arthur Weasley consoled himself that at least it would be a memorable game and that Percy was still a contender to win the Triathlon. “Tough luck on the Quidditch game, Weasley.” He turned in surprise at hearing Lucius Malfoy’s hesitant voice. He slowly nodded, wondering what the blond man was trying to accomplish. “Thank you. Was there something you needed?”

Lucius sniffed disdainfully, “Hardly. I just wanted to offer my condolences and inquire about the rumors about my son and your daughter becoming…close.”

That was news to Arthur. “Close in what way? Surely you don’t mean…”

Lucius grimaced, “Yes, close as in forming a relationship. I received word from several contacts within the school that the pair of them were seen cavorting around the castle. I see that it’s as much a travesty to you as it is to me.”

A tiny smirk teased the corners of Arthur’s lips when he decided to wind Malfoy up, “I don’t know about that. Ginny’s always had a good head on her shoulders and she knows what she wants. She just might be the perfect person to knock some of that ill-gotten gilding off your family.”

Lucius scowled at the redhead and jabbed a finger at him, “If I recall correctly, it was your grandfather who conceived of the scheme that eventually became his downfall.”

Arthur crossed his arms defiantly, “Really? Who told you that?”

“My father,” Lucius growled back as his temper flared. “He would have no reason to lie!”

“Ah, good; you’re both here.” A third voice, this one belonging to Croaker, broke in. “Lucius, you’re needed in A113 as soon as possible. U12 needs a fourth pair of hands to wrestle that project of his back into its tank.” Lucius speared Arthur with one last look of derision and stormed off. Croaker turned back to Arthur, “You really enjoy pushing his buttons, don’t you?”

Arthur shrugged, “I’ve got to get my entertainment from somewhere.”

Algernon shook his head ruefully, “When are you two going to put your petty differences aside and act your age?”

“To quote my youngest son, ‘He started it!’”

Algernon quirked up an unimpressed eyebrow and thumbed in the opposite direction that Lucius had left, “You should get going before I decide to run a test to see what happens to redheads when subjected to endless meetings with utterly boring people.” He watched as the younger man blanched then hurriedly leave before sending a plea skyward for Divine Intervention. “Merlin help us if those rumors about their respective kids are true.”

Monday 17 April, 2023; Whitehall Library/Resource Center

Lavender was pondering a heavy decision when Hermione quietly entered the cubicle and sat down across from her friend. “I know that look. Which mystery of the universe are you contemplating?”

Lavender smiled wanly, “I’ve been thinking about what I want to do with my life after graduation and I realized that I could get started now. My problem is I want to create a YouTube channel but I know that the Ministry doesn’t have a clue about anything involving muggle technology.”

Hermione bobbed her head sagely, “Then you ought to create a lesson plan to teach them what needs to be taught so you can achieve your goal.”

Throwing her hands up, Lavender whined that idea just compounded her exasperation. “But how? How do I as a mere teenager come up with such a class to be able to show the fuddy-duddies what they’ve been missing all these years? I don’t know how to teach!”

Hermione gestured around them, “You have an entire school full of teachers who could help you come up with a solution. Go talk to Professor Washington and see what sorts of suggestions he might have. For all you know, there might already be an afterschool program for this very thing.”

Lavender huffed, “Fine, but you’re coming with me.”

Deputy Headmaster Robert Washington’s office…

Robert leant back in his chair to observe the two girls sitting in front of him, “So let me try to understand this. You, Miss Brown, wish to create a class to bring the Ministry for Magic up to modern standards regarding the internet, video sharing, email, and all the rest that goes into it.”

Lavender bobbed her head in agreement, “That’s my idea. I was hoping that there might be a class to teach me so I can teach them.”

Robert smiled, “Fortunately for you, there is such a class. It’s normally reserved for seventh years, but seeing as how determined you are; I daresay that you would be able to hold your own.” He clicked his computer on and pulled up a file then printed it out. He handed the printout over to Lavender who beamed in appreciation. “The class runs on the weekend from 3pm to five every Saturday in the Resource Center for about five weeks. The next session is due to start about the middle of May. The exact date will be posted on the Community Bulletin Board a week prior, if you’re still interested.”

Lavender beamed with eagerness, “I can’t wait! Do you know what sorts of topics will be covered?”

Robert nodded as he consulted his records, “Yes, topics include: the general do’s and don’ts about non-magical technology, basic typing skills, writing emails, looking up information via Google or other search engines, et cetera. On top of that is a section where the teacher will have a select group of students act out a scene in which one or more of the group pretends to be Ministerial workers or department heads while the rest of the group attempts to teach them what they need to know without tempers flaring. Is this still something you’re interested in?” Judging by her still-eager expression, Lavender was clearly ready to get started right that instant. “Alright, why don’t you both head back to class? Dismissed.”

Hermione nudged her friend as they headed back to class, “I told you so. Hey, if this class to teach the purebloods at the Ministry works out, I’ll be able to call you Professor Brown!” She laughed at the dreamy expression that formed on Lavender’s face.

The next day…

Harry had figured out how to operate the communication mirror at school rather quickly by watching Headmistress Marchbanks the last time she activated it for the Quidditch Semi-finals. He’d been flipping through his Potter Book when a sneaky thought flashed through his mind. “Oh, it’s too perfect…”

After turning on the Whitehall mirror and connecting it to the Hogwarts’ side, he spotted a lone elf doing some spot cleanup at the Hufflepuff table, “Hi, there!” The elf started at the sudden voice. “Sorry, I was hoping that either Neville Longbottom or one of the Weasley twins was available to talk with me for a moment.”

“You is scaring Toby! All students be in class right now. You should be in class too.” Toby squeaked in mild annoyance.

Harry blushed and nodded furtively, “I know, but this is kind of important. I found something in my private journals that could seriously affect their remaining time at Hogwarts. Do you know when Neville would be getting out of class?”

Toby communed with Hogwarts for a moment before replying that Neville was still in the greenhouses. “Class not being over for another hour. You can call him then.”

Harry bowed respectfully, “Thank you for your assistance, Toby.” He clicked off the mirror, turned and pulled up short at the sight of a bemused Olivia watching him. “Uh, hi…”

Olivia snickered at his embarrassment of being caught out, “I’m guessing you didn’t know that all mirror communication requests run through my office first. May I ask what was so important that you felt the need to contact your friends during class time?” She checked her wristwatch, “I seem to recall that your age group ought to be in English Lit right now.”

Harry stammered, “I had a doctor’s appointment earlier and just got in.” He handed her the doctor’s note as proof. “I had hoped to pass along some ideas for Neville’s next class.”

Olivia scanned the note, accepting that it was legitimate. “This Neville is a teacher at Hogwarts?”

Harry waggled his hand. “Sort of. I mean he’s not a regular adult teacher but he holds impromptu classes afterwards from the perspective of kids his own age.”

Recognition dawned on her, “Ah, that Neville! Yes, I remember Headmistress McGonagall mentioning him. So what sorts of ideas were you going to share”?”

“I found some chemistry projects that could be adapted using magical ingredients in the Potter Book,” he answered. “I’ve done it before like with the Pharoah’s Serpent or creating of purple gold.”

“Uh-huh. Well, couldn’t this exchange have happened during the weekend at home? Do you not have a way to contact him then?”

“Only my owl, ma’am. Hedwig’s wonderful, but the mirror is just so much faster.”

Olivia smiled fondly, “It is. Unfortunately for you, it’s now class time so you need to head over to your next subject. I’ll excuse you this time but don’t make it a habit.” She shooed him off and let out a short laugh, “Kids…”

Hogwarts, the next morning

Hedwig dropped through the owl mail chute like she was re-enacting the infamous Whitehall Howler Run then flared out after exiting and banking over towards the silver and green table. She spotted her quarry and angled in to drop her package off right in front of Vinny then peeled out to release her other letter to Neville Longbotom before heading back out and home.

Vinny popped the string holding the box closed and plucked out the letter inside. His face creased into a calculating smirk that had many of the first years wondering what misfortune was about to fall on them. He held his hand over his heart and declared loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, “All Hail, Harry Potter.”

Daphne’s head came up, “What’d you say?”

Vinny showed her the letter and box, “Harry Potter’s a certified evil genius. Look at what he sent me.” Shrunken inside the box was a can of shaving cream and a feather, aromatherapy candles designed to change from comforting to stinky at random moments, deodorant that started off as advertised only to change to a powerful adhesive once the applied surface warmed up. Additionally, there were instructions on how to charm shoes so that they’d start squeaking at random moments, a charmed mistletoe garland that trapped two people underneath it until they kissed (“What if they’re the same gender?” She asked him even though he didn’t know.); there was also instructions on how to charm toilet paper to be untearable, a deck of cards to become unreadable the closer the victim came to winning, and how to charm a victim’s books to suddenly grow legs and walk away after ten minutes.

Vinny’s smile had grown the further they’d read the list of contents. “Like I said, evil genius.”

Daphne huffed and glared pointedly at him, “Don’t you dare to use anything on me, Astoria, or Tracey. Everyone else is fair game though.”

Vinny nodded his understanding, his gaze already sweeping the Hall. “No problem. So, who should be my first target?”

Thursday 20 April, 2023; Azkaban; sometime between who-cares and eternity

Albus was experiencing yet another Dementor-induced nightmare. In it, he had been captured by the Goblins to stand for judgement over some perceived slight. Down in the bowels of Gringotts, the cart operator stopped at a humongous low-numbered vault filled to the brim with untold wealth. “Albus Dumbledore, you have a choice. You may collect as much wealth as you want but at a price. For every coin or gem you collect, you lose one memory from your long life. Should you become hungry, sleepy, or thirsty, you may buy that relief from the vendor (he pointed to a gaily painted hot dog stand in the corner) but you must pay for it by collecting the amount required from this vault.” He left Albus standing in shock at the taunting wealth that lay in front of him.

Albus jerked awake, lying on his straw bed staring up at the drab ceiling. “I’ll show them once I get out of here. The world will tremble for daring to lock me away when I did nothing wrong.” He flinched when he heard the dulcet tone of Gellert’s voice reaching out from the inky darkness, “Didn’t you, Albus? You’ve done a lot of bad things over the years. Now, enough talk. Come cuddle me, lover; I’m cold and these old bones need a bit of warmth…” A rattling sound was heard scraping near his head. Albus tried to hide underneath his rotted blanket and moaned in fear when he heard the scraping of bone against rock.

“Soon, I’ll be free.” Albus quietly chanted to himself. “Soon, I’ll be free of this nightmare… only another two months left to go.”

Short time skip: 1 May, 2023; Diagon Alley, Ollivander’s shop

Garrick glanced up at the sound of the bell tinkling over his door and thinly smirked at the patron, “Fancy meeting you here, Peter. What’s on your mind?”

Peter rubbed his arm uncomfortably, “I was voted to be the one to go around to the remaining shops to let everyone know that we signed the agreement with the muggleborns to allow them to open up here in Diagon.”

Garrick nodded sagely and gestured towards the window, “I know; I saw the first one opening up earlier. You know this is the right thing to do. It’s as Albus always quoted, ‘For the Greater Good’.”

“I know, but it still smarts. None of this would’ve happened if those damned muggleborns had just accepted the way things were! Business was running smoothly until they had to go muck it up,” Peter grumped.

Shaking his head at the man’s stubbornness, Garrick ushered Peter out of his shop and flipped the sign to read, ‘Closed’ then ambled along the still mostly-vacant alley to peer into the new tenant’s salesfloor. The shopkeeper appeared with a wary smile on his face, “Can I help you with something?”

Garrick introduced himself, “I’m Garrick Ollivander and I have a wandmaking shop down the ways a bit. I thought I’d swing by to see how you were settling in.”

The shopkeeper introduced himself as Sam Krause, “I’m still having a difficult time believing that I’m actually running a coffee shop here on the main alley. I thought for the longest time that I’d still be relegated to that hole-in-the-wall location for the rest of my life.”

“But you’re here now, so what sorts of coffee do you serve? Are you open for business yet?”

Sam nodded and ushered Garrick inside, “Just opened about an hour ago. You ever hear of Starbucks?” At Garrick’s shake of his head, he elaborated. “Oh, well Starbucks is an American muggle company that operates the largest coffeehouse chain and one of the most recognizable brands in the world. My shop, Beans and Texts is modeled after them where we offer the same quality of coffees, whole beans, and sundries but at lower prices. Additionally, we also sell books and magazines you’re allowed to peruse while sipping on a cuppa. We contract with magically-grown coffee bean farms around the world which allows us to import and brew our coffees faster than the muggle-owned Starbucks.”

“What’s the price difference, if you don’t mind me asking?” Garrick queried.

Sam thought about it for a moment, “A venti at Starbucks would generally cost between £3.50 and £4.50 or 11 Sickles, 27 Knuts to 15 Sickles, 10 Knut; depending on the type of beverage and any add-ins. The Venti size is the largest size offered, typically containing 20 ounces of hot beverage or 24 ounces of iced beverage.” 

Garrick goggled at that, “So expensive for twenty ounces of a hot beverage.”

Sam nodded sagely, “Right? So here at Beans and Texts, we charge half that for the same quality. Would you like to sample some of our coffee?” He poured a sample into tiny cups and explained the differences between each of them.

Garrick sipped on the sample of the Colombia blend with its complex and elegant, medium-bodied flavor and walnut-like finish and let out a happy sigh, “Oh this is exquisite! I’ll take a cup of this.”

“Would you like it to go or would you like to drink it in-house?”

“Is there a price difference?” Garrick asked Sam who replied that there wasn’t. “In that case, I’ll take a cup to go.” One brew later, he returned to his shop where he savored the rich coffee and quiet contentment. “Peter’s an idiot and doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Saturday 13 May, 2023; Dursley Residence

Harry opened the door to let Algernon enter, “Hi, welcome to my home Director Croaker. What brings you by?” Petunia also greeted the man and suggested to Harry that he take the man to his studio. “I just had the rug shampooed and it still needs to dry.”

“I stopped by to let you all know of Albus’ release from Azkaban in a little over a month from now.” Algernon surveyed Harry’s studio with intrigue, “I figured you’d want to be prepared in case he did something stupid.”

Harry chuckled, “Dumbledore? Do something stupid? Nah…”

Algernon shared in the laugh, “I know but I had to mention it. Now, I did a bit of research before I came by so I wouldn’t be a total ignoramous but some of your machines here are a bit daunting.”

Harry looked at him curiously, “Really? Which ones?”

Croaker pointed to the automatic embroidery machine, “That one, really. Is it true that all you have to do is type in what you want and it does it for you?”

Harry grinned, “Yeah, it’s awesome.”

Algernon sighed, “Alright, I’m impressed. So what was it that you wanted to show me, Mr. Potter?”

Harry pulled out the Potter Book and laid it on the table, “I found this in a trunk full of other things that either Dumbledore stole from my family or had been lost within Hogwarts. As near as I can figure, it’s full of possibilities. What if I had done this or that? What if a moment of interaction which resulted in a different outcome?” He sat back and idly played with his favorite pen while Croaker flipped through the pages. “There’s even a section in the back called, ‘Just An Errant Thought’ where these…prompts I guess, are fleshed out into actual scenes or stories.” He showed the older man the relevant section. “My favorite is the one where my mum creates a pocket universe to house the Death Eaters, Voldemort, and Dumbledore along with his people away from the normal citizens.”

Algernon’s eyes grew wide at the wealth of alternate futures and possibilities. “This is incredible…. Would you mind if I made a copy of this?”

“Can you? I tried to make copies of some of the pages to share with my friends but the magic within the book resisted so I was forced to copy everything by hand. I couldn’t even use a copy machine on them; the pages just came back blank.”

Algernon frowned as he re-examined the book. “What happens if the book is out of your possession?”

Harry shrugged, “It shows up again after a little while. I have extra paper and pens if you want to stay and hand copy whatever interests you.” He rummaged around the drawers until he came up with a healthy-sized stack of lined paper and a couple of pens.

Algernon thanked him and settled in to make his selection. The first one he copied was Harry’s favorite quick story. “A space-expanded prison cell…interesting.”

Monday 15 May, 2023; Hogwarts ‘Triathlon Champions Common Room’ aka an empty classroom on the third floor

“So what’s the plan for the last task? Is it still going to happen on the twenty-fourth of June?” Marcus asked as Percy and Cedric joined them. “I had the idea that we should do something along the lines of ‘taming’ an angry McGonagall.”

Cedric laughed as he flopped onto an empty chair, “Sure, I’ll start planning your funeral then.”

Cassius glanced up from where he’d been cleaning his nails, “Last I heard the date for the Third Task hadn’t been decided yet. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind holding it as soon as possible just to get this whole thing done with already.”

Percy mock-glared at Marcus with evident disdain on his face. “In all the years that we’ve known her, do you really think that there’s anyone who could actually ‘tame’ an angry Scotswoman? The last person who tried it got their arse handed to them and six weeks of detention.”

Marcus snickered, “I remember that. So what would you do if it were possible?” He turned to Cassius, “I agree. Maybe we could hold it sometime in the first week of June?”

“Fine by me.” The other two agreed with the tentative date.

Percy thought for a moment before a small smirk graced his face, “You know, if you want to try to tame an angry woman; I’d offer my mum when she’s got her steam up so we can practice.”

Cassius’ laugh echoed in the empty room, “Would she be amenable?”

Percy shrugged, “Dunno, probably. You’ve heard her Howlers.” They all shuddered at the memories of Molly Weasley’s infamous Howlers to her ‘misbehaving’ sons.

Cedric piped up after a moment of silence, “I’ve got an idea. What if we were to face off against that basilisk your sister seems to have taken a shine to?”

Cassius narrowed his eyes evaluatively, “Go on.”

Cedric got up to pace, “What if we were to see which one of us can get close enough to plant a flag on her head without being petrified? She seems intelligent enough that I’m almost positive that if we explained the idea to her, she might go along with it.”

“So we wouldn’t try to kill her? Last time I checked, a basilisk half her size takes a trained team of at least twenty just to subdue it,” Cassius worried as he scratched his chin. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to live a long full life.”

The others laughed at his deadpanned response. Cedric gave him a half-hearted sneer, “No, we won’t try to kill her. She’s too popular with the younger students it seems, especially Percy’s sister. I also had the wild thought that to boost the excitement of the event; we ought to hold it in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Cassius blinked in surprise, “That would be exciting. I’ve never had the opportunity to go down there even though I’ve heard that Professor Snape knows the way in.”

Marcus shared a look with the others, “So we go contact Sandrine and get her input? Does anyone know how to contact her besides going through Percy’s little sister?”

Percy thumbed in the direction of the Headmistress’ office, “I’d wager the Headmistress would know, and besides; we’d have to clear the idea with her anyhow.”

“Then let’s go find out if this is even a possibility.”

Minerva’s office…

“You want to do what??!” Minerva all but hollered after Cedric finished repeating his idea. She pinched the bridge of her nose and grumbled about the idiocies of youth. “Please tell me you have other ideas.”

Cedric blushed, “Well, there was also the idea to ‘tame’ you while you’re mad at someone.”

Minerva gave him a level look of disdain, “Funny. What else?”

Cassius teasingly pointed over to Percy, “Same idea of taming an angry woman but use Percy’s mum instead.”

“So you’ve got nothing is what I’m gathering?” Minerva ignored Cassius’ failed attempt at humor.

Marcus shrugged, “I don’t know, I kinda like the idea of going head-to-head against the basilisk as long as she knows it’s just a competition and not to the death or anything.”

Minerva gave him an exasperated stare, “I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one, or were you missorted into Gryffindor when I wasn’t looking?” She turned to where the Sorting Hat sat on its shelf, “Hat? Do you know where Sandrine is right now?”

The Sorting Hat shifted before replying that the basilisk was out hunting. “The last time she checked in with Hogwarts, she was going to investigate the territory where the Acromantula used to occupy.”

Minerva’s jaw dropped open, “Where what used to be?!” She was starting to develop a migraine and just knew that a trip to see Poppy was going to be her next stop of the day.

“Acromantula. There used to be a colony in the Forbidden Forest until recently,” the Hat replied blithely. “Hogwarts has informed me that they pulled up stakes and departed when Sandrine started becoming more active of late.”

“Who the bloody Hell introduced them to the Forest?” She all but snarled.

“Who do you think? Hagrid had one when he was a mere third year but was dobbed by Tom Riddle as being the one who killed Myrtle Warren despite the fact that when an Acromantula kills, there’s usually bite wounds.”

Minerva really wanted to faceplant onto her desk… or perhaps strangling Hagrid. “Alright, you said that they’ve left the valley?” At the Hat’s confirmation, she vowed to deal with that problem later. “Fine, in the meantime; ask Hogwarts to ask Sandrine if she’d be willing to take part in this lunacy of a task.”

The Hat bowed respectfully. “Hogwarts is doing it now.”

“So let me see if I understand this,” Sandrine dryly remarked after Minerva finished explaining what the Champions had in mind. “These four want to fake an attack to see who can get close enough to stick a flag on my head. This would accomplish what? How to look foolish knowing full well that I can easily petrify each of them with one sweep of my gaze? It’s not like my ability is a single shot effect, you know.” She felt someone tugging on her tail and turned to see Ginny grinning up at her. Sandrine picked up her favorite human child with her tail and brought her up front then ‘pet’ her like a puppy causing the child to giggle at the action. “What do I get out of this adventure?”

“What would you like?”

Sandrine thought about it for a moment, “I would like it if you sent a repair team down to clean up the temple and restore it to its former glory. It’s been over a thousand years since it was last used for its intended purpose.”

“As a shrine to Salazar Slytherin? I heard that the sculpture down there is his face,” Minerva questioned the basilisk who let out a cough-snort.

“Hardly. That bas-relief was only installed when the Pretender was a student here. It’s supposed to be a representation of the Serpent Goddess Echidna. The Pretender didn’t like that so he changed it to become the likeness of Salazar.”

Ginny glanced up curiously, “The Pretender? What’s his real name?”

“Corvinus Gaunt. He, like so many others in the Gaunt Family, claimed that they were descendants of Slytherin. They were, but not to the Founder. You see, Salazar had an illegitimate son who he later claimed after his true heir was killed in battle saving the lives of several muggleborns who’d been targeted by the muggle Church of the era. The illegitimate son was named Salestine and even though Salazar named him his heir, Salestine was unable to inherit the Family Magic which left him bitter and vengeful.”

Ginny’s eyes grew wide at learning this, “I ought to write this down! This would be great for my History of Magic class.”

Minerva agreed with her, “I agree that your temple should be restored, and Miss Weasley is correct. Sandrine, have you ever thought about sharing your knowledge with the students?”

Sandrine shrugged the tip of her tail much like a human would shrug their shoulders, “That would be agreeable to me. It’s been a long time since I held a class on the history of my ancestors.”

Ginny raised her hand and bounced excitedly on her feet, “I claim the best seat! I wanna be in Professor Sandrine’s first class!” Sandrine settled her by covering Ginny’s mouth with her tail and hissed something that caused the eager child to bloom a bright pink to Minerva’s amusement.

“I take it you have experience with excitable children.”

Sandrine nodded her huge head, “Godric’s children were very much the same. Always in motion those four were. It got to the point where Rowena threatened to permanently stick them to a chair and gag them when they were old enough to take her classes.”

“Four children?”

“Worse still was that they were quadruplets. Much like your Weasley twins in that you couldn’t tell them apart except for a tiny mole that each had in a different location on their bums. I remember when Godric’s wife threatened her children with disembowelment if she ever found out that they discovered a way to hide said marks.”

Minerva shook her head in bemusement. “I can only imagine. There’s been many times when I wanted to engrave their names on their foreheads so I wouldn’t make the mistake of referring to one or the other. Alright, Miss Weasley; you need to go find something else to do. Why don’t you go lead an adventure with your friends to finish whatever homework I’m sure you still have lying about.”

Ginny gasped and pinked then scampered off leaving the two adults, one serpent and one human to share their commiseration of putting up with easily distracted children.

Friday 19 May, 2023; Hogwarts Teacher’s Meeting

“You know,” Severus began with a drawl, “When Potter and the other muggleborns left the castle, I thought the days of being bombarded with inane toys would come to an end.”

Filius frowned in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Severus reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a tiny plastic rifle and canceled the shrinking charm, which reverted it back to its original size. “This is something called a ‘Nerf Blaster.’ I have no idea what a Nerf is; only that it shoots foam darts at a person. Besides the fact that it’s clearly muggle in origin, the Weasley twins have decided that it would be an excellent opportunity to use it as a means to target my Slytherins from a distance and since magic isn’t being used in the hallways; they think that any punishments I dole out are unwarranted.”

Gilderoy gingerly picked it up to examine it. He jumped when his finger pressed down on the trigger, firing off a dart which hit Minerva right between the eyes. “Oops, sorry.”

Minerva spared him a disdainful sneer as she picked up the foam dart, “Alright, I’ll make an announcement adding this Nerf thing to the Banned Items List.”

Percy was heading back up to the Tower when he heard his named being hissed. He glanced about trying to locate the source when he spotted someone urgently waving their hand. “Get over here!” Said mysterious person pulled him behind a statue and pressed the Nerf Blaster into his hands. “Not a word about this to anyone. If anyone asks, you confiscated it from Fred and George.”

Percy stared in confusion at the item in his hands. “What is this?” He tried to identify his benefactor but their face and voice were disguised.

“It’s a muggle toy that shoots foam darts at people. Snape brought it to my attention at our last staff meeting. It might prove useful during the Task.”

‘Okay, clearly one of the teachers.’ He reasoned. Now utterly perplexed, Percy tried to argue, “But isn’t this cheating?”

The alleged teacher gave him a hard glare, “No, this is ensuring that Gryffindor wins. We got our arses handed to us during the Quidditch Semi-finals and I’ll be damned if we can’t win the Triathlon. If Slytherin wins this, Severus is going to be insufferable. (Their gaze softened a touch) You and the other Champions have done an exemplary job at showing the world that we can come together to provide quality entertainment, but dammit! I want my old House to win! Now, hide that until the task gets started then go show them what it means to be a Gryffindor.”

Shoved back into the hallway, Percy stumbled up to the Tower with a contemplative expression on his face. He headed up the stairs, occasionally glancing back to where the mystery person had vanished. ‘Which one of the teachers could that have been? For all I know, it might’ve been the Headmistress. She does have a history of adjusting the odds a bit to help Gryffindor squeak out a win.’ As he entered the Common Room, he spotted his twin younger brothers. “Fred? George? I need your help. Meet me up in my dorm with a sample of your best creations in ten minutes.”

Fred and George stared dumbfounded at his order for a moment before scrambling for the door.

Saturday 3 June, 2023; Hogwarts, Chamber of Secrets, The Third Task of the Hogwarts Triathlon

Marcus, Cassius, Cedric, and Percy stood by their respective Heads of Houses waiting for the Headmistress to announce the start of the Third Task. Inside, Sandrine could be heard slithering about making hissing noises about who knew what.

“I wish I knew what she was hissing,” Cedric worried as he tugged on his robes uncomfortably. “I hope she’s not angry.”

Pomona soothed him, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Mr. Diggory. Sandrine knows that this is just a competition and not anything dangerous. You’ll do just fine, and remember that this is a school tournament. Win or lose, you’re still a shining example of a Hufflepuff.”

Off to the side, Percy stood with Minerva who was also nervous for a host of other reasons. “Do you have it with you?” She muttered sotto voce.

Percy shook his head and quipped, “Nah, I couldn’t bring myself to cheat so I turned it into Professor Snape.” He grinned slightly and half-pulled it out from underneath his outer robes. “Of course, I have it. I’m brave, not stupid.”

She gave him a light swat on the arm, “As punishment for nearly giving me a heart attack, I ought to assign you detention helping Filch muck out the cesspool.” She straightened her Tartan sash and strode out to the podium that had been set up along with a smaller mirror that would connect with the one in the Great Hall, Ministry Atrium, Whitehall, and the Leaky Cauldron. “Welcome everyone to the Third and Final Task for the Hogwarts Triathlon. Now our Four Champions have been challenged to face off against the most fearsome creature Hogwarts has ever hidden away for over a thousand years! Each of our Champions must face their fears and tackle this creature head-on using nothing but their wits and their talents characterisitic to their respective Houses.”

The image of Minerva transitioned to reveal Sandrine guarding the bas-relief sculpture of Echidna the Terrifying in the newly refurbished temple in the Chamber of Secrets; her gaze dangerously bright in the dim light. Up above, everyone not familiar with Sandrine gasped in horror.  At the Ministry, Molly was clutching onto Arthur’s arm, panicking that she was about to lose one of her babies to that dangerous animal. “Do you think this is the same one that befriended Ginny? How could Minerva approve of such a foolish idea to confront a basilisk of all things? If Percy lives, I’m going to tan his hide for making me worry!”

Arthur patted his wife on the arm and whispered quietly, “I have it on good authority that this is the same serpent that Ginny befriended; she also knows that this is to be a friendly game of tag. At the very least, Percy might be temporarily petrified for a couple of hours.”

 “The Champions shall enter as a group and attempt to stick a flag bearing their House colors to the basilisk’s head. Champions! Are you ready?” All four held up their wands while elsewhere, the castle practically shook as the Hogwarts student population cheered in support. “Go!”

Percy entered the Chamber last and took up a position nearest the left-hand hooded cobra statue to the main arena. He spared a glance at Cassius who shook like a leaf at the sight of Sandrine baring her fangs. “Go big or go home, Warrington. Let a Gryffindor show you how it’s done.” With that said, he pulled off his outer robe to reveal the costume his brothers had come up with. Cassius wasn’t the only to stare in befuddled curiosity at the robes the redhead was wearing. Every square inch of it was covered with a miniature mirror creating what some muggleborns would later describe as a sartorial disco ball. Percy slipped on a pair of mirror-tinted glasses and hefted the Nerf Blaster in his hands. He chambered a round and grinned viciously, “I’ll be back.”

His attack on Sandrine was just short of disastrous. For Sandrine, that is. She took one look at him and nearly died laughing at the sight of the mirror ball-shaped human armed with a strange looking toy. That one look almost cost her dearly as her Petrifying gaze was reflected back onto her causing her head to spin like she’d been hit in the head by a gigantic boulder. “OW! Is that what it feels like?! What… Oh, I’m going to get you for hurting me, Ginny’s brother!” She slipped around a pillar of stone holding up the ceiling, dodging a cross-attack from Cedric who used her momentary distraction to tag her with a paintball spell which clogged up her nose. She sneezed hard, spraying the glop back at the teen who just barely jumped out of the way. She snapped her tail out and scooped Percy up before he could leap to safety and tossed him into the pool in front of the face of Echidna.

Percy landed with a mighty splash; he floundered for a bit before breaking the surface, spluttering and coughing from the cold water. He was barely able to claw his way out of the pool when he spotted Cedric get petrified after an unlucky swap of positions with Cassius landed the Puff squarely in Sandrine’s sights.

“One down, three to go! Who wants to go next?” She roared to the remaining Champions.

Great Hall…

Ginny watched in fearful trepidation at the scene on the mirror, occasionally covering her eyes then peeking through her fingers as Sandrine battled her brother and the other three Champions. The Hufflepuff contingent groaned when Cedric had been taken out. The Ravenclaws were next to join in the despair when Marcus was clipped by a falling stalactite. The Task was put on hold while Poppy rushed in to rescue the boy and drag him out. Sandrine hissed something quietly to Minerva who responded in kind that Poppy had never failed to save a patient yet. The basilisk pointed to the ceiling again with her tail and hissed another question to which the Headmistress agreed that something needed to be addressed as soon as the Task was over.

Back in the Chamber of Secrets…

During the brief downtime, Percy couldn’t help but laugh at the state of the things. Cassius turned and asked him what was so funny. “Why is it always our two Houses that end up locked in a one-on-one competition for success? Quidditch, classes, and now this Triathlon? Slytherin versus Gryffindor… Cosmic forces must be having a field day.”

Cassius thought about it for a moment before cracking a grin, “Shall we work together and give everyone the entertainment they so dearly desire?”

Percy shot him a haughty expression, “Not bloody likely. The last time that happened, Oliver Wood got suckered into agreeing to play second fiddle while your team takes the lead against Wimbourne.”

Cassius made a show of snapping his fingers, “Well, it was worth the shot. Alright Weasley, let’s do this. Good luck.”

“I agree; you’re going to need it.” Percy gave him a jaunty salute and rushed out onto the battlefield.

Looking back, Cassius had a strong feeling that he was being set up to take the fall for Percy’s daring dash into the face of death. The redhead had obviously been hiding his true talent in the art of combat field tactics as he dropped to his knees and slid under the serpent’s nose while firing off foam darts at Sandrine’s face. She caught a couple in her mouth then immediately spat them out in disgust. She whirled her massive head in Cassius’ direction and caught him just barely in the corner of his eye. The petrifaction didn’t take full effect, but it was enough to render his left side immobile. He collapsed to the ground and tried valiantly to scramble out of sight as she moved in for the ‘kill.’ Just as she was about to hit him again, her jaw drooped open, her tongue drooled out and hung limply while her right cheek sort of spasmed uncontrollably.

“Wha…ha’nning? My muth! Wha wr’ng wif my muth?! Why isth room…get’n shleepy…” Sandrine slowly sank onto the stone floor as both eyelids closed over as she began to snore. Percy stepped up as calmly as you please and plopped a Gryffindor Red and Gold flag on top of her head.

Ministry Atrium

The whole of the Atrium was silent at what they’d witnessed. Yet just like nature abhors a vacuum, the attendees started cheering and applauding at Percy Weasley’s win over the basilisk. Both Weasley adults were louder still with Arthur jumping up on his chair singing an old family song about perseverance over adversity while Molly covered her eyes sobbing that her seemingly unobtrusive son had bested the beast and won the Triathlon!

There were many amongst the crowd who joined in with those chanting Percy’s name at Hogwarts. “Percy Weasley! Weasley! Weasley for the Win! Go, Go Gryffindor!

Hogwarts, outside the Chamber of Secrets

“Seriously, Minerva?” Severus drawled in a supercilious manner, “I never figured you’d stoop so low as to cheat a win.”

Minerva glared contemptuously at her colleague, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Severus.”

“I know it was you who slipped Weasley that toy,” he replied point-blank. “What would everyone say when word of this leaks out as you know it will.”

She turned to face the man, “I did nothing of the sort and I resent the accusation. If you feel this way, then maybe I ought to publicly accuse you of consorting with a vampire in hopes of creating an army of undead soldiers.”

He returned a dark laugh, “Resorting to empty threats now? I know you won’t because of how well you get along with her. Yes, I know about your drinking games you two get up to on the weekends. Emily may be a vampire but when it comes to alcohol, she’s a lightweight and gets loose lips when properly drunk.”

Minerva crossed her arms defiantly, “Why does it matter if I may or may not have helped Mr. Weasley obtain that toy? He put in all the work to achieve the win. Besides, it’s not like you have nothing to celebrate what with your House Quidditch team’s win at the semi-finals.”

Severus’ face creased with an oily smirk, “Yes, it has been glorious; especially when Wood accepted the loser position as reserves which you and I both know will never get the opportunity to take to the pitch and be forced to watch their futures on a professional Quidditch team fly right…”

Anything more he had to say was silenced thanks to Emily silently appearing out of the shadows and stunning her boyfriend who slumped to the ground in an undignified heap. She shared a sympathetic look with her boss, “Sorry about him. I’ll make sure he learns his lesson about gloating.” She levitated him off the floor and floated him away.

For the rest of the semester, Percy was congratulated by nearly everyone within Hogwarts, and even the occasional visitor to the school and the townspeople of Hogsmeade. When asked what he used to render the basilisk to fall asleep, he directed them to Fred and George who proudly announced their latest invention of ‘Sleepy Time for Serpents.’ “Guaranteed to make even the most vicious snake take a well-deserved vacation in the Land of Nod.”

Arthur and Molly arrived the same day after the Triathlon concluded to congratulate him on winning. Molly then launched into a tirade about being so reckless for facing off against such a dangerous creature. “Why couldn’t you just do something not so dangerous?! I swear you’ve been acting like Charlie and Bill lately and for what? To give your poor mother a heart attack? You should’ve been using this time to study for your OWLs!” She finally relented after Arthur surreptitiously tapped her on the arm with a mild dose of that Sleepy Time potion that George had quietly slipped him. She wavered on her feet then gratefully sank onto the couch and fell asleep within moments.

Arthur peered curiously at his now sleeping wife. “Any side effects I ought to know about?”

George shook his head, “Nope. This stuff is chemically no different than a Calming draught.”

“Really?”

Fred nodded, “The only difference is that this stuff can be topically applied rather than ingested like the draught. It gets absorbed faster if ingested as Percy demonstrated, but ordinarily it can just be applied to the skin. It just takes a bit longer to work that way.”

Tuesday 20 June, 2023; Azkaban Prison Docks

Algernon was waiting for the prison boat to finish docking when he spotted Albus practically hanging onto the railing for dear life. “Not a sailing man, Albus?”

Albus balefully glared up at Croaker’s unrepentant grin, “There’s sailing then there’s this contraption. I’d swear that it’s leaking in spots. We nearly sank twice on the ride over here. What are you doing here?”

Algernon shrugged, “I figured you’d want to see a familiar face when you were freed.”

Scoffing derisively as he hauled himself out of the boat onto the dock, Albus growled, “You’re the last person I want to see.” He hobbled and swayed past the other man, still feeling seasick from the boat ride.

“Regardless, I’m here to help you get to where you need to go.”

Pausing, Albus stared at the man. “Really? You’re here to take me back to Hogwarts so I can fix whatever you changed in my school?” He was hopeful but deep down knew it was unlikely.

That hope was dashed as certain as the sun rose in the East. “Nope, you’ve been effectively banished from Magical Britain after the stunts you pulled.”

Albus steadied himself up against a wall and willed his stomach to stop roiling. “Then where am I going?”

Croaker gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Elsewhere.” Before Albus could react, Algernon pulled out a canister and sprayed the contents into his face, knocking him out. Two Unspeakables silently appeared. “Take him to the warehouse and prepare the transfer.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: The Repairs are Complete of these Fraying Threads (Epilogue)

Wednesday 21 June, 2023; Hogwarts (maybe?)

Albus snorted himself awake and found himself lying in his bed back in his apartment within the Headmaster’s office of Hogwarts. He frowned as he fingered the blanket, “I had this nightmare before, but I also distinctly remember leaving Azkaban and nearly drowning twice on that blasted ferry from the prison.” He rose from the warm confines and hurriedly dressed in the cool morning air. He stepped outside and gazed about the office in confusion. Normally, the portraits would’ve greeted him and given the highlights about what had transpired in each of the four Houses the previous night. It was the best way to keep tabs on the students, especially those no-good Slytherins with their incessant plots to dethrone him and ruin all of his hard work to bring about the fruition of his Plans.

He headed downstairs and again noted that nothing seemed to be working. The portraits, the suits of armor, even the Grand Staircase seemed to have been frozen in place. Fortunately for him the stairs were locked in place to permit access to both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers. He tapped on the portrait for the Fat Lady but her painted features remained unmoving. Concerned, he pressed on the seldom-used alternate locking mechanism cleverly disguised as a slightly discolored brick and tugged on the frame to swing it open. His worries grew when there was no one present in the common room, nor was there anyone in the dorms. Each of the beds was immaculately made as if waiting for an occupant, and the wardrobes were empty. On a whim, he even went up to the girls’ side but again, there were no sign of his students.

“Curious. Alarming even. Bippy?” He waited for the Head Elf to pop in but there was no response. "Where the bloody Hell is everyone?"

Albus wandered the empty hallways with growing concern that something terrible had befallen the student population before it dawned on him that it was June. He snorted in amused derision at his lack of awareness, “I should’ve checked the calendar before making my grand tour of the school. It still doesn’t explain why the elves aren’t here or why the portraits and everything else seems to be inoperative. I can’t even find Peeves and I know he never leaves the castle.”

It wasn’t until he ventured to the front steps when he finally discovered he wasn’t alone in the castle. Standing before him was Algernon who was sporting a mysterious smirk on his face. “Algernon? Where is everyone? Why don’t the elves come when called?”

Algernon chuckled and spread his arms grandly, “Welcome to your new home!”

Albus stared at him with evident confusion. “New home? Algernon, I’ve been living in the castle for the past seventy years, not counting that short unfortunate stint in Azkaban.”

Algernon’s smile grew wider, even a bit smug. “Actually, this castle and the valley around you have only been in existence for the past thirty days.” He waved for Albus to follow him. “I’ve got some information for you to think about while you’re here. In this place, you’re free of misbehaving students, meddling royalty, and all of the other things that used to distract you from your never-ending planning for your amorphous Greater Good ideals.”

“I’d hardly call them amorphous,” Albus argued.

Algernon shrugged indifferently, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Here, you’re free to wander around to your heart’s content. There are no more of your past life’s little trifles that you would've otherwise handed off to one of your minions. Plant a garden, go fish for hours on end, whatever catches your fancy really. The only downside is that from this moment on, you’ll be alone with only your thoughts and dreams to keep you company.”

He turned back when Albus had stopped walking. “Problem?”

“Why are you doing this? How are you doing this?” Albus face was aghast.

Algernon shrugged, “It’s not something you need to worry about anymore. It’s the judgement of the Powers That Be that for the Greater Good of the rest of the world, you should remain separate from the rest of the populace.”

Albus scowled at his favorite phrase being thrown back in his face. “Now you’re just being obtuse. All I’ve ever done was to bring about the Greater Good for the populace. So I’m confined to the castle?”

Algernon waggled his hand, “You can roam the castle, the grounds, and even range as far as the new version of Hogsmeade, but essentially yes. You will not be able to apparate or create portkeys anywhere, nor can you call on anyone via the floo. Keep in mind that anything you consume that you haven’t grown yourself, such as the alcohol in the taverns, the sweets in Honeydukes, et cetera; will not be replenished. This is place isn’t meant to be a relaxing vacation rental; this is your new prison cell where you’ll spend the rest of your life instead of Azkaban which by the way, pleases me to let you know is being shut down permanently. Thanks to this brand-new way of incarcerating prisoners, we don’t have to involve costly and dangerous Dementors.”

Albus glanced about and huffed, “I guess as far as prison cells go, this one isn’t all that bad.” He turned back to Croaker who was watching him oddly, “So, what if I need to contact you?”

Croaker shook his head, “You won’t have to. My department will be monitoring everyone and everything. You will not be permitted to have further communication once I leave.” He clapped Albus on the shoulder, “It’s for the Greater Good.” He pouted at only receiving a huff of annoyance and rolled eyes from the prisoner. “You’re no fun anymore. Anyways, I must take my leave. I’ve got tickets to see Hamilton at the Victoria Palace Theatre and it wouldn’t do to be late. Ta!”

With that, Croaker faded from view. Albus stared at the spot in which the man had vanished. The breeze that he’d enjoyed earlier now sounded hollow and foreboding. He jumped when he heard Gellert’s raspy voice again, “Ah, Albie my love! This is wonderful, now we’re free to plan to take over the world as we see fit! Kiss me lover, I long to feel your breath upon my skin.” Whirling around, Albus’ eyes grew wide at the sight of an emaciated and decaying corpse of Gellert Grindlewald scraping and hobbling his way towards him, its sightless eyes boring into his own as it reached out with skeletal hands, “Why Albus? Why won’t you love me like you used to?! Why? Why Albus? Whyyyyy?”

Screaming, Albus ran back inside only to be confronted with a horde of Inferi-shaped Gellerts mixed in with a cadre of Arianas in various forms of decay or deformation, along with a scattering of everyone else he’d ever dealt with or caused the downfall of, all heading his direction. The Inferi kept moaning as they followed him, “Für das Allgemeinwohl werden wir für immer als Einheit vereint sein!” (For the Greater Good we shall be together forever as one!)

Outside…

Algernon clicked off the microphone and watched the monitor which showed Albus racing off as fast as his aged body could provide, screaming something about needing to escape and that Gellert would never get him. He tapped in a security code into the control panel locking the transfer pad before heading out of the secure warehouse; his footsteps echoing off the concrete floor as he passed another thirty or so space-expanded containers, each housing a prisoner in their own specially-crafted worlds. He paused at the door to gaze over what was essentially the new and improved Azkaban. His second in command silently appeared at his side. “Sir?”

Croaker shook his head, “It’s nothing. Albus tore apart the fabric that held our society together with his delusions for power and control. I’m pleased to report that those fraying threads have been repaired and we can get on with our lives.”

Same day while Albus was hiding from the nightmares of his past in a murky locked bathroom; Wimbourne, Dorset, Wasp’s Nest Quidditch Stadium, Final: Hogwarts vs Wasps

Oliver Wood was sitting amongst the other Hogwarts players trying to simultaneously control his annoyance and elation at not only being here to represent Hogwarts in the Final game against Wimbourne, but also from the ribbing he was getting from Fred and George. “Quit it, you wankers. Things are already tense enough without you two idiots dogpiling onto it,” he hissed, trying to fend off their not-so-subtle poking.

Marcus picked his head up from his pre-game report he was giving everyone else, “Was there something you wanted to add, Wood?”

Scowling, Oliver commented that he normally gave a pregame speech to his team. “These two have already heard it, and according to them; it’s something it’s something of a Gryffindor tradition which means I’m obligated to give it before the start of every game.”

One of Marcus’ eyebrows rose in feigned curiosity, “Do you want to?”

“Not really, I just want to win.”

Marcus nodded sagely, “Then Fred and George; leave him alone. If you feel the need to get handsy from all that poking, please do so after the game when you’re in the showers together.” Catcalls and jeering hoots rang out from the Slytherins much to Oliver’s embarrassment.

Angelina Johnson put on a much put-upon grump, “So you guys are alright groping Oliver, but not us? That’s so unfair!”

Alicia’s eyes twinkled with amusement, “You can’t really blame them. Oliver is a Wood after all. It’s a wonder why they don’t just call him a Biggerstaff!”

The other players, Marcus included, lost it as they howled with laughter. Oliver’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment as he covered his face with his hands, and even the twins’ faces had pinked a bit and refused to look at anyone. Marcus finally called an end to the teasing. “Alright everyone, we’ve got a game to try and win. I doubt we will since they are a professional team, but let’s use that Slytherin cunning and Gryffindor daring to show them that we’ve at least got the balls to try!” There were a couple of snorts of laughter from that innuendo (even the Gryffindor Chaser line grinned) as they rose as one and headed for the door.

Hogwarts Great Hall…

In a rare moment of team unity, Severus was amongst the spectators in the Great Hall as they all waited for the game to get underway. He turned when Minerva nudged him. “Yes?”

“I’m surprised and impressed with you allowing Mr. Flint to include the Weasley twins and Mr. Wood as starters for the Beaters and Keeper, respectively. I would’ve thought that they’d be relegated to water boys or some such menial tasks.”

Severus gave her a thin-lipped smirk, “Even I have to admit that the three of them are damned good at what they do. Their behavior off the field is intolerable, but put a broom in their hands, and a bat in the case of the twins, and they turn into something indescribable. The twins with their near telepathic ability to know what the other is thinking, and Mr. Wood with the uncanny ability to know where the Quaffle is heading even before it leaves a Chaser’s hand is nothing short of astounding. I merely gave Mr. Flint the nudge in the right direction.”

Minerva blinked in amazement at his commentary, “High praise, indeed. “

Severus sniffed, “Always the tone of surprise.”

On the pitch…

The Wasps watched as their guest team flew up into position, some of them clearly shaky handling their brooms. “This is going to be a slaughter. It’s a good thing that this game is just an exhibition and doesn’t count to our standings within the league.”

One of the two Beaters agreed, “It ought to be an easy win then. Let’s end it quickly so we can get back to the real game.”

The referee blew his whistle in two sharp blasts, signaling the release of the Bludgers and Snitch. He then tossed the Quaffle into the air prompting the Chasers of both sides to rush in to grab it first. Almost immediately, the Wasps realized they’d been duped into thinking that the Hogwarts’ team wasn’t on top of their game as they’d snatched the Quaffle from their lead Chaser’s hands before the player could even comprehend what had happened and were shooting off towards the goal hoops.

The Wasp Chasers raced after them but it was too late as Graham Montague tail smacked the Quaffle through the lower hoop winning them the first goal of the game.

“THAT’S TEN POINTS FOR HOGWARTS! SEVENTH YEAR CHASER GRAHAM MONTAGUE OF SLYTHERIN HOUSE JUST SCORED OFF WASP KEEPER FINLEY!”

Whitehall cafeteria…

Harry was sitting with Hermione and her friends while the school’s attention was riveted on the Quidditch game being shown on the giant mirror. He nudged Lavender and winked, “Watch this. (He raised his voice) This is boring! Someone change the channel!”

Shouts of anger and annoyance calling for him to sit down and be quiet plus the teasing jeers from his friends erupted from the Hogwarts and Ministry feeds. Both Hermione and Lavender rolled their eyes (Hermione playfully swatted his arm); “Why’d you do that?”

He grinned unrepentantly, “Because it was funny. You know what would really set them off? In the last moment, cut the feed.”

Harper Ottolite, one of Lavender’s friends from her Charms club scoffed, “That has to be the stupidest thing ever said, even coming from a boy. You’d be more likely to start a war than cause people to laugh.” She sent a haughty mock-glare at Lavender. “Why is he even here anyway? This table is reserved for intelligent girls.”

Hermione let out a feigned sigh of regret, “As much as it pains me to admit; the only reason I even put up with him is for his clothing. I mean, he’s sort of cute, but only in a trained monkey kind of way.”

Harry’s face split with a wide grin as he scratched under his arm and made quiet monkey noises, “Ooh, ooh, ooh…Banana? Me good monkey!” This caused Hermione to shake her head and patronizingly pat him on the head.

Sunny popped in just as Wimbourne successfully got a shot past Wood bringing the score up to 20 to 10. She was wearing a pair of cargo shorts, flip-flop sandals, and a blinding yellow shirt with the message that read, ‘Sunny side up!’ “Harry, I need you to approve this request for materials.” She handed him the order form.

He took it curiously, “I thought Aunt Petunia handles this stuff.”

“Normally, yes but these are things for her birthday party and I can’t very well spring the surprise if she knows ahead of time,” she gave him a look of mild reproving as if he was being thick-headed.

“What about Uncle Vernon?”

Sunny scoffed, “He’s singularly unable to hide anything from her. Miss Petunia just has to look at him and knows immediately whatever he’s trying to hide from her.”

Harry laughed and agreed, “Yeah, must be a mother thing. Dudley’s forever whining about that. Alright, it looks good.” He signed the form and handed it back. Sunny thanked him and popped away. One of the other girls commented that it was still strange to see the elves act and speak like normal people, unlike that baby talk they used to use back at Hogwarts or whenever they visited their pureblood friends’ houses. “You do know that they’re required to act like that to make their ‘masters and mistresses’ feel superior, right? If it was up to the elves, it would be us who’d be the servant class instead of them. They’re tremendously more powerful than we could ever hope to be yet if it wasn’t for their ancestors being tricked into signing a phony ‘protection agreement’ millennia ago from the muggles who were encroaching into their territory, I’d daresay that we would be scrubbing their toilets or serving them meals.”

Four hours later…

The mirror feed had remained on at the Ministry, but Headmistress Marchbanks insisted that her students had classes they needed to attend to so their feed was cut at the end of lunch. “I will be putting up a charmed announcement sheet up on the bulletin board that will continuously update on the score and final outcome of the game. In the meantime, normal schedules will resume at the sound of the bell.”

Not to be outdone, Minerva announced a similar ruling for Hogwarts stating that, “As much as it pains me to not being able to watch the game as it unfolds, my colleague is correct. The Wizarding Wireless is there reporting on the match and the Daily Prophet will print the scores in their next edition so it behooves my school to head back to their classes. This game is not a winner-take-all, monumental fate of the universe event. All students are to return to their classes as soon as the bell rings.”

Over at the stadium, the players took no notice of the drop of viewership as they fought for every play to gain an edge over their opponents. Neither side was gaining much ground as the Hogwarts Team under Marcus Flint proved that even though half of their players were Gryffindors didn’t mean that they weren’t above being sneaky and cunning to fly circles around the Wasps. Fred and George were in fine form as they smacked the Bludgers about the sky, aiming with pinpoint precision to disrupt the Wasp’s formations, timing, and aim. The Wasps’ Beaters couldn’t even come close to retaliating thanks to Seeker Higgs running interference and drawing off the Bludgers in a snap move that sent their Chasers reeling.

When the halftime break was called, the score was 150 Hogwarts to 160 Wasps. The Hogwarts team was tired but still buzzing with energy as Marcus and Oliver conferred with each other and agreed that even though they would love to let the game continue forever, the rest of the team was nearly shot. Reserve Seeker Cormac McLaggen was nursing a sore shoulder after taking a glancing blow from a misaimed Bludger, the Flying Foxes aka Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were complaining about their legs cramping. Even the Beaters from both Houses were grousing about their hands getting tired.

“Alright, listen up!” Marcus bellowed to get their attention. “Seekers! Catch the Snitch as fast as you can. Don’t worry about how much or how little we’ve scored today. Hogwarts has already made Quidditch history by lasting as long as we have against a professional team. To be honest, I thought we would’ve lost a long time ago.”

Terrence Higgs raised his hand and shot Oliver a teasing leer, “Catch the Snitch or die trying?”

Oliver hung his head and groaned, “I say that one time and no one will let me forget it!” He shook his head ruefully, “Honestly, let’s just end this and we can leave with our pride intact.”

“Then you and the twins can hit the showers to see who can leave with their virtues intact!” Someone stage-whispered to the ringing laughter from the others.

Forty five minutes and fifty points to Wimbourne later, the Snitch was caught by Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs from underneath the unsuspecting Wasp’s team captain’s broom bristles thereby ending the game at 300 (Hogwarts) to 210 (Wasps). The stadium spectators erupted into thunderous cheers and applause at the conclusion of the historic game. Bookies ran their numbers to determine who’d won or lost, while the two tired teams landed and congratulated each other on a fine game; one that would be talked about for years to come. Wimbourne’s owner shook Oliver’s and Marcus’ hands, “That was some fine work out there, gentlemen. Have you thought about who you’d like to play for when you graduate?”

Oliver beamed at the praise but shook his head at the question, “No, sir. I mean I’ve been scouted by Puddlemere but nothing’s been conclusively decided yet.” Marcus replied that he’d been formally approached by the Appleby Arrows, the Wasps’ primary rival.

The owner bobbed his head understandingly, “You’re still which year at Hogwarts?”

Both teens responded with, “Sixth year, sir.”

A slow smile grew on the owner’s face as he shook Oliver’s hand again. “Then I’ll be looking forward to speaking with you again when you get closer to graduation. It’s been a real pleasure, Mr. Wood.” He turned to Marcus, “The Arrows, eh? I’m sure we can offer you a better deal than they can. You interested in playing professionally?”

Marcus snorted with laughter, “I’d have to be a fool to say no. What did you have in mind?”

“Is your agent or Head of House or Family here?”

Marcus gestured over to where an older man was approaching the trio, “That’s my father, Angus Flint. Father, this is Adam Cartwright; owner of the Wasps. He’d like to discuss some ideas.”

What’s happened with everyone else?

Wizarding Economic Council (WEC):

Beans and Texts was the first, but definitely not the last, muggleborn-owned and operated shop to open for business in the newly revamped and refurbished Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. The wards of both districts had to be upgraded to cope with the new requirements as laid out in the WEC Agreement. Requirements such as the installation of electricity, Wi-Fi, telephones were just some of the improvements. Once those were in place, new tenants began moving in…

Garrick lounged in his workshop and gazed out of the window onto the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley and smirked to himself, “It was only a matter of time before the others capitulated as their wallets became thinner and thinner.”

Irina Malkin glanced up from her perusal of the latest fashion catalog, “What was that?”

He waved her off, “I was just commenting to myself on how much better the fortunes of the Alley have become ever since the WEC pulled their heads out of their collective arses to realize that the ‘old ways’ were no longer profitable.”

She nodded her agreement, “I know, right? Things have picked up so much that I’ve had to hire three new assistants. Business is booming to the point where I’m seriously considering expanding my shop.”

“Do you have the space to expand? As I recall, both shopfronts on either side of you are occupied.”

Irina shrugged, “I could always build upwards instead. That floor above my shop is just storage right now. Did you hear about Peter?”

“No, what happened to him?”

“He tried to charge a muggleborn for twice the normal amount like he used to do in the ‘old days’ and got caught. Aurors had to be called in where they arrested him for price gouging. His son has taken over in the meantime.”

Garrick shook his head at the news, “Some people are just incapable of change.”

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin

Upon the completion of the renovations to Black House in London, Sirius invited Harry and his family over to celebrate. Everyone was in awe at the craftsmanship and overall new look of the formerly blighted manor (or mausoleum as Sirius referred to it.)

“So what’re your plans going forward, Sirius?” Harry asked him as he lightly traced his fingers over the billiard’s table felt.

Sirius shrugged, “Not sure. I’m well enough off from the family fortune that I don’t need to work though I’m sure I’ll find something to keep my mind occupied. If there’s one thing I absolutely cannot stand, especially after my stint in Azkaban, is idleness. I get bored way too quickly these days. Why? What sneaky idea did you have floating around in that creative mind of yours?”

Harry shrugged, “No idea, to be honest. Did you have any sort of hobbies besides annoying Snape or chasing skirts while you were in school?”

Remus chuckled when he heard that. “As a matter of fact, Sirius here was an excellent Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

Sirius scoffed, “Yeah, like that’s a talent I could use now. I was a fair hand at painting when I was younger, before starting Hogwarts.”

Harry gestured in a manner like ‘well there you go.’ “What about art restoration?”

Sirius frowned minutely, “Art restoration? Where are you going with this idea?”

“I was thinking of all the paintings and portraits at Hogwarts. Who does all the repair and maintenance work on them? It can’t be just the elves, can it? Even if it was, I have to believe that there are plenty of families who don’t have access to such talent.”

Sirius slowly bobbed his head as the idea whirled around in his mind. “I’ll give it some thought, thanks.”

Taking Harry’s novel idea, he entered the University College London for their Conservation of Contemporary Art and Media MSc degree, focusing on the conservation of contemporary artworks. After that, he opened up his company ‘Black Arts and Magic’ in Diagon Alley where he happily works with a small cadre of elves to repair the ravages of time.

Remus on the other hand, was set in his career as the most popular teacher at Ebor Gardens Primary Academy. He eventually rose through ranks to become Assistant Headmaster where he remained until his retirement at the ‘ripe old age’ of 75 then went on to assist Sirius’ art restoration business managing the books and finances.

“Professor Lupin! Professor Lupin! I know the answer! Pick me, pick me!” Sirius teased his friend whenever the latter would visit at the shop or at home, usually whenever Harry was visiting to the teen’s amusement or had asked a question about some intricate piece of magic.

“Padfoot, I swear that if you don’t calm down…” Remus groused.

Sirius’ eyes crinkled as he began laughing, “You’ll what? Put me in detention? Assign me lines? If that didn’t stop my antics back in school, what makes you think they’d have any effect on me now?”

Remus got a glint in his eye as he pulled out his phone, “Well, I could call Amelia and have her lay down some punishment…last I heard she bought a new paddle.”

Sirius shifted uncomfortably, “No thanks! I’m still smarting from her last visit.”

Harry rolled his eyes and went back to trying to beat his old high score at Crash Bandicoot Team Racing.

Weasleys:

Fred and George

After graduating from Hogwarts, the pair did something unexpected. They’d originally planned on opening up their much-dreamt of joke shop but after careful consideration, as well as a heart-to-heart chat with their idols Padfoot and Moony; they got hired on with Director Croaker in the Department of Mysteries.

Sirius opened the conversation. “Gentlemen, after careful consideration of not only your grades, but also your talents with creating spells, potions, and pranks; we could see you starting in the Department of Mysteries." Both of the teens dramatically widened their eyes in surprise as their mouths dropped open. Remus picked up the narrative, "Think about it. You both are geniuses when it comes to inventing stuff for your pranks. Imagine getting nearly unlimited funding and very little oversight to further study whatever catches your fancy? Granted, you wouldn't be able to tell anyone just what it was you were working on nor would you be able to let anyone know that you even worked in the DoM but the pranking possibilities are endless. You want to own a joke shop? Imagine what you'd be able to come up with product-wise if you had a couple of years' worth of Unspeakable training under your collective belts?" The twins were practically drooling at this point.

So with that advice, Fred and George Weasley became the Department of Mysteries darling duo; tackling some of the most head-scratching puzzles Director Croaker could ever come up with and succeeding each time. Their out-of-the-box thinking led to the discoveries of some of the department's most vexing problems. It was they who discovered just what the Veil of Death was originally used for. It turned out that the Veil was used not only to sentence condemned criminals to the afterlife (at least until Azkaban was built) but also to return the Dementors back to the underworld. According to their research, the demons were brought forth via a forgotten ritual to suck the soul from the condemned then use that soul as a gateway ticket through the Veil. As per their findings, the Dementors of Azkaban were herded from the prison to the Ministry along with a list of the prison's remaining most hardened and violent criminal witches and wizards; the Dementors feasted then as one, they turned when they felt the call from the Veil and returned to the fiery pits of Hell or wherever it was they came from. 

The pair worked in the DoM for nearly ten years before opening up ‘Weasley Wizarding Wheezes’ in Diagon Alley to great acclaim. Five years later, they were opening up their first branch shop in Hogsmeade. By the time both were ready for retirement, they had fifty locations worldwide.

Their mother no longer had any complaints about them settling down and getting respectable jobs in the Ministry like their father.

Ronald

He made the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his third year and made a name for himself as a well-rounded player able to handle himself quite well no matter which position he’d been assigned to. After graduation, he landed his dream job as Keeper for the Chudley Cannons where he played for fifteen years. With his knowledge and playing skills, he whipped the traditionally worst team in the league to win their first championship in nearly 150 years. After that, he decided that the glamourous life wasn’t for him after being falsely accused of impregnating a rabid fan. He retired from active play to join up with the Ministry’s Department of Sports and Games where he rose through the ranks and eventually landed the position of Department Head after the previous Head, Ludo Bagman was exposed for corruption and bribery charges as well as a crippling gambling debt.

After that fan scare, he never really put much effort into getting into a serious relationship with anyone despite his mother’s continuing attempts to ‘set him up with a nice girl.’

Ginny

She became a Chaser for the legendary all-women player Holyhead Harpy Quidditch team where she excelled for twelve years while also acting as the public relations spokesperson promoting the benefits of active play for girls of all ages and social classes. She eventually retired from active ‘service’ when she accepted the role as Team Manager (over her mother’s objections who believed such things to be ‘unlady-like.’) She’s been seen dating Draco Malfoy on and off whenever their respective fathers need a reminder to act civilly towards each other in public. As of now, she has no plans to settle down to raise a family.

Percy

After winning the Hogwarts Triathlon, offers for recruitment started pouring in from all departments within the Ministry, and even a couple from other countries. In a surprise move, he went to work for his father in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office where he helps his dad explain the vagaries of muggle products that field Aurors or Obliviators would normally come across in their day-to-day patrols. Whenever he’s asked why he would want to waste away his time in such a low-level position, he would glare disdainfully at the idiot and reply, “It’s a good place to start and my boss is a familiar face with whom I have had an excellent rapport with. I enjoy what I do to assist our hard-working Aurors to understand the muggle world in which they need to enter in order to do their jobs effectively. I’m sorry that you do not seem to comprehend this, perhaps you should take some time to explore the city beyond what you can see from the door or windows of the Leaky Cauldron.”

Arthur always gets a good laugh whenever he hears the story. “That’s my boy. A tough and tenacious Weasley through and through.”

Luna Lovegood

Because of her sorting into Hufflepuff, Luna didn’t suffer much from the kind of ostracization she would’ve experienced if she’d instead gone into Ravenclaw like she’d originally planned. With the care and guidance of her friends within the Sett, she blossomed and became the school’s de facto ‘expert’ in the field of cryptomagizoology. After she graduated from Hogwarts, Luna decided that a change was needed and took a chance to enter into the muggle education system to earn a degree in zoology with an eye on becoming a zookeeper. During her apprenticeship at the Chester Zoo in Upton-by-Chester, Cheshire; she made a name for herself as one of the few people who could interact with the more dangerous lizards without so much as a scratch. Her best friend Ginny commented once that it was funny to see the Komodo dragons act like eager puppies whenever Luna made an appearance.

Neville Longbottom

Unsurprising to anyone who’d ever been in his presence for longer than five minutes, Neville became Professor Sprout’s top pick to succeed her upon her retirement. During his apprenticeship in the Amazon Rainforest, Neville discovered a plant that when combined with a native tribe recipe to treat those suffering from the effects of the Cruciatus curse (or venomous snake bite), enabled him to bring his parents ‘back to life.’ Their recovery is slow but progressing relatively smoothly. Both parents are able to recognize their son whenever he comes into the room and are even able to hold a moderately long conversation without too much effort. He’s confident with some more experimentation of the properties of the plant’s secretions; he’ll be able to improve upon their recovery.

In the meantime, he continues to spend his free time holding demonstrations to help students understand what they missed in class.

Draco Malfoy

He graduated from Hogwarts with high honors as expected then landed a job as an intern within the DMLE on the Law side for Ted Tonks. It cracks him up all the time whenever Draco spots his dad being forced to ‘play nice’ with his wife’s sister’s muggleborn husband. After he’d earned his full title, and to his father’s annoyance, Draco became a champion for equal rights in the Wizengamot citing the need for fresh ideas by allowing half-bloods and muggleborns voting rights and to be able to sit on the various committees and main assembly. He and Ginny date off and on, but nothing ever really came from it.

Lavender Brown

Lavender got a job in the DMLE as an intern in the Muggle Liaison Office (MLO) while she went to Kingston University to earn a BA (Hons) in Social Work. Following that, she worked in the MLO where she was instrumental in designing a program alongside Percy Weasley that would assist Aurors and Obliviators whenever they had to deal with the muggles and First Contact Protocols for the newly discovered muggleborn families. She successfully got the Wizengamot to expand the reach of the Book of Names as well as refine the enchantments to distinguish muggleborns from magically-raised pure- or half-bloods so the new families could be properly contacted by Whitehall representatives.

Hermione Granger

After her graduation from Whitehall, she surprised everyone who thought the young woman would go onto bigger and better things when she applied for and was accepted into the same university that her parents attended to become a dental surgeon. Whenever she was asked why she would want to get such a mundane job instead of probing the deepest reaches of magic, she calmly replied that, “Researching magic and pushing the boundaries is just a hobby. I saw what my parents do and realized that it’s a safe and financially secure career.”

Once she had graduated from university and settled into a position within her parents dental practice for a time, she dated and eventually married Harry Potter. The two live comfortably in a suburb of Bristol where she has her practice and Harry’s studio. Ix remains Hermione’s companion and bonded familiar.

Finally…Harry Potter

Harry graduated from Whitehall with ten Outstanding NEWTS with a focus on Fashion Design and Manufacturing. Once the excitement from the graduation party faded, he dove into his work with Potter’s Threads full-time producing his usual extraordinary yet modest fashions for girls and women. He was one of the first in the industry to develop a biodegradable fabric that absorbed air pollutants like a plant’s leaf, separating out the toxins and releasing clean oxygen back into the air. “This fabric, once ‘full’ and unable to continue to work properly turns completely black and is then returned to my factory where it is processed in the same way that e-waste is rendered inert and destroyed.”

Hermione modeled for him whenever their schedules coincided, and the two dated occasionally until she became established in her career at his insistence. “I will always be here for you, Hermione but independence is important; especially for someone of our generation. You don’t need to fall into a marriage simply because ‘that’s the way it’s always been done’ just to appease the old folks.”

Her lust-laden smoky gaze at his suggestion was more than enough of a clue to him that he’d said the right thing. The two weren’t seen for an entire weekend and when they returned, Hermione dreamily staggered from the bedroom with a pronounced wide-legged limp. Harry was sporting a dopey expression for a week afterwards.

No word on whether or not children will be forthcoming.

Fin.