Harry Potter and the Orb of Exuberance - fezzador - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

Chapter Text

This series is being recorded in audiobook style! Join my Discord server every other Tuesday for a live recording session with a professional voice-over artist, the one and only Sam Gabriel! The next session will be Tuesday 13 February 2024 at 11:00 AM, Central Standard Time.

The silent, nippy early November air and dark, starless skies that blanketed the evening Surrey sky served as the perfect cover for the legendary mage Albus Dumbledore. Every few seconds he paused and clicked what appeared to be a silver cigarette lighter, and one by one, the numerous street lamps that illuminated Privet Drive flickered and faded out.

Upon first glance, Dumbledore looked like a typical man of about sixty five years old, though in reality he was closer to a century in age. Like many in his coven, he preferred the comfort of loose-fitting robes over Muggle clothing, but that particular evening he donned a tie-dyed shirt, a leather vest draped with blue and white beads, blue jeans and simple sandals. Better to look like a strange Muggle than a wizard, he thought. He barely caught a glimpse of a tortoiseshell cat, sidestepping it at the last second. The cat co*cked its head and threw the wizard a rather agitated expression.

He took a few more steps and clicked the lighter in his hand once more. He hummed a little ditty to himself when a soft Scottish burr interrupted his routine.

“Really, Albus?”

Dumbledore glanced over his left shoulder; the little cat was long gone, but not far from where he last saw the cat, a tallish, strict-looking woman of about fifty stood with her arms folded across her chest. Unlike her associate, she was draped in green finery with a pointed hat – she apparently had no qualms with maintaining her witch-like appearance even in the middle of Muggle Britain.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Right on time, as always, Minerva.”

Minerva shook her head in clear disapproval of Dumbledore’s choice of attire. “A Muggle hippie, Professor Dumbledore? Surely you could have come up with something more discreet.”

“I could,” replied Dumbledore, still chuckling. “We’ve known each other for several decades; you can’t tell me with a straight face that you still aren’t familiar with my modus operandi?”

“Intimately familiar,” groaned Minerva. “Just because you were once housed in Gryffindor, doesn’t mean that you can’t exercise a bit of subtlety and prudence from time to time.”

Dumbledore shrugged. “Don’t forget that you once spent many an hour in the Gryffindor tower yourself, Professor.”

Minerva’s lips remained a fine, thin line. “You watched me get sorted nearly forty years ago. You remember just as well as I do that it took nearly a full five minutes to decide… there are days I wish the bloody Hat placed me in Ravenclaw instead. Truth be told, tonight is one of them.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore nodded, with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Minerva folded her arms again and tapped her foot impatiently. “Now, are you sure you want to go through with this? I’ve spent a fair bit of time observing Lily Evans Potter’s only living relations… they are horrible people, Albus. We both know that Petunia despises magic and everything associated with it; and her husband is even more bigoted. I heard him utter a disgusting epithet behind a young Caribbean man’s back earlier today. I have no doubt they’ll raise their son to be spoiled and hate-filled… I cannot in good consciousness let young Harry be exposed to such ignorance.”

“They are the only family he has,” Dumbledore sighed with a note of resignation. “Whether we like it or not, they are his rightful stewards.”

“I don’t like it, and there are other viable options,” countered Minerva. “Sirius Black is Harry’s godfather, is he not?”

Dumbledore raised his hands in a gesture of deference. “He is, and he sought me out several hours ago concerning Harry. I told him as gently as I could that other arrangements have been made.” He sighed sadly. “I could feel his heart breaking… I have no doubt that Sirius does have Harry’s best interests in mind, and would give him the love and attention he deserves. However, there is a certain danger associated with Master Black that makes me worry about young Harry’s safety. He’d willingly sacrifice himself to protect Harry, but I fear that his recklessness will make him do something he’ll regret, and will put him in a position unable to care for the child.”

Minerva nodded reluctantly. She knew that Dumbledore was right… it was likely a matter of when, and not if, Sirius penchant for acting without thinking would get the better of him. “I would suggest Remus Lupin, but every month… things tend to get a little hairy for him. Like Sirius, Remus would have Harry’s best interests in mind, but he knows that he cannot be trusted when he assumes his lupine form during each full moon. And for that very reason he wouldn’t accept the proposition even if offered.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Exactly, Minerva. Which is why he’d be safest with the Dursleys. I think this conversation can safely be finished.”

Minerva glared at the wizard. She always respected Dumbledore’s wisdom; she found his stubbornness to be equally irritating. “Not quite,” she said sharply. She reached under her hat, and produced a small ecru envelope with no writing on it whatsoever. It was small – not much larger than a playing card in size – and inside the envelope was a single sheet of parchment, once folded. She reached into her robe pocket and slipped on her reading glasses, and cleared her throat before reading the contents of the note aloud.

“24 October 1981

To Whom It May Concern,

We can only hope that this gets into the right hands before it’s too late. Our protection is no longer of consequence… what matters most is Harry’s safety. If we fail to survive the war, then Harry must be spirited as far away from Magical Britain as possible. As it stands, the outlook is so bleak that I fear that even Sirius cannot protect our sun – besides, he’s too stubborn to leave the British Isles.

We do not trust the Dursleys to take care of Harry, so we implore you not to take him there. He will neither be loved nor wanted there. Harry deserves a warm and loving family.

If the worst indeed comes to pass, then Harry must be sent to Surrey, a community near Vancouver in Canada to live with our friend and mentor, Roger Woodward and his wife, Rhonda. Rhonda may be a Muggle, but unlike the Dursleys, she would look at Harry as her own, and only encourage his magical gifts even though she may not necessarily understand them.

As you already know, Roger was the year ahead of us at Hogwarts, and has recently accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Ilvermorny. We’re hard-pressed to think of a safer place for him to grow up. Please respect our wishes and let Harry have a safe, happy childhood.

Sincerely,

Lily and James Potter”

She handed the letter over to Dumbledore, who read it to himself. His forehead wrinkled in such a way that he looked closer to his actual age for the briefest of moments, then promptly returned the note to Minerva.

“Mister Woodward,” he sighed, sounding as if he were trying to push away a bad memory. “I’m sure he’d mean well, but his level of maturity leaves something to be desired. He was nowhere near ready to be a father at eighteen…

“I quite agree that he made some foolish decisions,” trilled Minerva. “Thank Merlin his parents took in little Nova when they did. How he got with a Muggle girl… I’ll never know, or understand, but that’s his prerogative and I’ll leave it at that.” She then gave Dumbledore a look of steely resolve. “That was four years ago, and the war has made many a young witch and wizard grow up, and Roger is no exception. Ilvermorny deemed him capable and responsible enough to handle the position of Defense Professor; surely he can handle raising a child.”

“He’s a very busy wizard,” Dumbledore argued. “I’m sure he doesn’t wish to be inconvenienced…”

“Bollocks, Albus,” snapped Minerva. “The Potters quite obviously trusted Roger enough to raise young Harry; Roger is a grown adult. I have complete faith that he can handle raising Harry, along with his wife. They aren’t as well-off as the Dursleys appear to be, but they will love him as their own.”

“They aren’t his blood relatives,” protested Dumbledore. “The blood ward will not work if he takes refuge with a guardian outside his family.”

The scowl on Minerva’s face increased tenfold. “He shouldn’t need a blood ward if he leaves the British Isles altogether.” She then stamped her foot angrily. “I’m not going to let Harry languish with these bigots – they want nothing to do with the Potters or their progeny! They don’t give a damn what you and I have to say… to them, we’re followers of a paganistic, superstitious religion and should all be locked up those Muggle looney bins! You can rationalize it all you want, but the Dursleys won’t believe a single word of whatever explanation you provide them!” Her expression softened. “You know it to be true, Albus. They aren’t going to budge – he’ll be at Wool’s Orphanage within two weeks!”

Her expression changed further; her voice began to crack and tears began to well in her eyes. “You must trust me on this, Albus. You’re the wisest Headmaster the hallowed halls of Hogwarts has seen in generations, but even the most wizened of wizards need counsel from time to time.”

Dumbledore let out a long, airy sigh. “If you’re that adamant, Minerva, then you’ll be the one to see this through,” he conceded. “You’ll be responsible for communicating with Mister Woodward, and ensuring Harry’s safe passage to North America.” He pointed a long, crooked finger at his associate. “And you can feed, bathe, and change his nappies until then.”

Minerva didn’t even bat an eye. “Believe me, I was half-tempted to resign my position from Hogwarts to take care of the boy myself.”

A sudden whirr pierced the otherwise still night air, sounding rather like a jet engine, followed by a brilliant flash in the sky. The whirr grew louder and louder and louder until CLANG! A massive motorcycle with an even more massive rider hit the pavement of Privet Drive so hard that it probably should created a crater the size of a football pitch, but the impact didn’t create even so much as a crack.

The motorcycle screeched to a halt, mere paces in front of the two seniormost Hogwarts faculty members. The mysterious rider removed his helmet, revealing a dark, shaggy mane and an equally shaggy beard. “Sorry I’m late,” he grumbled in a strong West Country dialect. He glanced at the precious cargo he held in his left hand. “Li’l tyke was hungry; couldn’t let him go without.”

“You’re fine, Hagrid,” trilled Minerva. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan concerning young Mister Potter here.”

“What’s that, Professor?” asked Hagrid. “Nobody tells me nuffin,” he grumbled to himself.

“Harry won’t be staying with the Dursleys after all,” Minerva elaborated. “He will be staying with Roger Woodward and his wife Rhonda in a community – most appropriately called Surrey - in Canada, and most likely will be attending the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he comes of age, though he shall also have the option of studying here should he so choose.”

“Canada?!” barked Hagrid. “That’s half a world away! Wait… Woodward, did yer say? That rapscallion actually settled down? Ho ho, I can’t even tell yer how many times I had ter oversee his detentions!”

“He most certainly did,” confirmed Minerva. “Lily and James Potter find him trustworthy enough to raise their son. Their endorsem*nt, and the fact that Harry will be far, far away from Magical Britain, is good enough for me, and so it should be with you.”

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore chimed in gently, “I need for you to assist the good Professor here with watching young Harry until it’s time to depart for North America. I would imagine it should only be a couple of weeks.”

“Yer can count on me, sir,” replied Hagrid. “It’ll give me enough time ter say good-bye to the li’l tyke properly.”

Chapter 2: A Plan For Harry

Chapter Text

The following morning, Minerva practically dropped her teacup when she read the headline of the Daily Prophet: “EXPLOSION AT GODRIC’S HOLLOW; THIRTEEN DEAD”. She gasped audibly as she continued to read the story. “No, it can’t be…”

“What can’t be, Professor?” blurted a groggy Hagrid from the other side of the kitchen table.

“Here, read this,” Minerva stammered, shoving the paper at his navel.

Hagrid scanned the paper and shook his head, scowling. “Sirius Black killed twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew? I can’t believe that. That’s not at all like him.”

“No, unlike much of his family, Black is a good person,” agreed Minerva. “It’s not in his character – he would never harm the innocent. Something’s not adding up…”

“Yer mean, like a conspiracy?” asked Hagrid.

Minerva nodded curtly. “Precisely.”

“But if not Black, then who?” Hagrid wondered aloud.

“I don’t rightly know, Hagrid,” Minerva murmured, shaking her head sadly. “Obviously someone with a vendetta against the Potters… I’d wager that Black went off to avenge his friends, but let his recklessness get the better of him.”

Hagrid could only nod solemnly. “Shouldn’t we help Black? Yer know… clear his name and find the real perpetrator?”

“If Black were sitting with us, he’d tell us to look after Harry and deliver him safely,” Minerva said. “It’ll take time to create a plausible case in his defense; whoever set him up left little room for ambiguity. You and I know that Black’s an honorable wizard, but to the DMLE and Wizengamut, he’s a ne’er-do-well that disgraced the family name. People of influence were already suspicious of him when they learned he was sorted into Gryffindor as opposed to Slytherin as most Black family members traditionally go.”

“But he’ll rot in Azkaban!” exclaimed Hagrid with a roar, who was beginning to fume. “He doesn’t deserve that… punishment without a trial, bah!” A loud, piercing cry from the next room drowned out even Hagrid’s booming voice.

“The opportunity to help Black directly will present itself in due time,” trilled the Professor as she took a sip from her teacup in an attempt to help regain her composure. “And congratulations, Hagrid. You’ve woken up wee Harry from his nap. I think it’s time for you to check his nappies and see if he might want anything to eat.” She pointed toward the door with her head.

Hagrid mumbled a few incomprehensible curse words under his breath as he exited the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Minerva began writing a note to Roger Woodward regarding Harry’s stewardship:

“2 November 1981

Professor Woodward,

It is with a heavy heart that I must share the news of the recent passing of both Lily and James Potter. In accordance with their wishes, I humbly ask you to assume guardianship of their one and only son, Harry James Potter. I know you and your wife can offer him both love and safety, which at the moment is a hot commodity in Great Britain.

Little Anneliese is in capable hands with her grandparents, but even if you weren’t ready four years ago, remember that you will always be her father. You will have the opportunity to prove it to her one day, but for now, please take this as is your second chance at fatherhood. Lily and James would want you to care of Harry as if he were your own – it’s just as important that he’s loved as much as he is safe.

Please owl me if you need anything from me. I will gladly assist in any way I can.

Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall”

She rolled up the parchment, sealed it, and whistled for her personal owl. A massive brown and cream Great Horned owl fluttered through a half-open kitchen window, and co*cked its head at Minerva.

“Good morning, Ithamar,” purred Minerva. “I need for you to take this to Professor Roger Woodward to his business address – Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Massachusetts, U.S. If for whatever reason he cannot be reached there, then try his personal address of 57 Skylark Place, Surrey in British Columbia, Canada.

Ithamar just stared at Minerva blankly. Minerva simply chuckled at her familiar. “I know it’s a long distance, but I assure you it’s a most urgent matter. Now, off you go… the weather starts getting a bit unpredictable this time of year, so the sooner you leave, the sooner you get back in one piece. I’ll be sure to have an extra bag of crickets waiting for you.”

Ithamar hooted, clearly pleased that he’d receive a handsome reward waiting for him. He snatched the note with one taloned foot, and with a whoosh, he soared out the kitchen window, heading westward toward the sea.

***

Several days later, the brand-new Defense professor Roger Woodward sat in his office at Ilvermorny, grading a handful of essays written by his second-year students. His concentration was broken when he heard a sharp rapping sound behind him. He opened the window and was nearly knocked off his feet by the massive Ithamar.

“Goodness gracious, what do they feed you to get so big?” Roger wondered aloud. He carefully removed the parchment from the owl’s grasp, and returned to his seat to read the note.

“No, no, no, this can’t be real…” he whimpered, clearly stunned by the horrific news. “Lily and James can’t be dead… they can’t be.” He collapsed on his desk and began to sob into his folded arms. After he finally regained his composure, he looked at Ithamar. “Old McGonagall is coming to see me whether I’m ready or not, isn’t she?”

Ithamar simply stared at Roger intently, which Roger took as an affirmative. “All right, I might as well send her my response while you’re here.” He fumbled around looking for a quill and some ink, and hastily scrawled a response agreeing to the Potters’ final wishes. Ithamar hooted softly before departing for Great Britain.

Roger tried his best to carry on as nothing happened, but the tragic loss of two of his closest friends hit him harder than he could have possibly imagined. He frequently lost his train of thought in the middle of lectures over the next couple of days, which caused confusion and frustration amongst his students. He barely ate during his meals, and barely spoke to students or faculty alike.

Roger’s change in behavior did not go unnoticed by the Headmaster, Professor Agilbert Fontaine. Fontaine was a tall, regal man who somewhat resembled a more youthful version of Dumbledore, except with jet-black, close-cropped hair and a short beard. Fontaine was named headmaster less than two years earlier, at the relatively young age of forty. While not the youngest Headmaster in Ilvermorny history, he wasn’t far off.

During dinner, Fontaine decided to broach the subject with his subordinate. If there was anything he could do to help, he’d make it happen. He had a reputation for patience and understanding, which applied to faculty and students alike.

“Roger,” the Headmaster purred in a deep, silky Transatlantic accent. “Something’s been bothering you lately, but you try to carry on as if nothing’s happened. Surely you don’t think nobody else has noticed?”

Roger hung his head in shame. “Well Professor, something has happened, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable discussing it in the mess hall. Perhaps tomorrow morning in your office, away from prying eyes and ears?”

Fontaine nodded. “Very well, Roger. Does nine thirty work for you? I highly doubt it would take more than a few minutes to get things off your chest.”

Roger smirked. “That should be fine, sir. I’ll see you then.”

***

The following morning, Roger flooed directly to the Headmaster’s office as requested. Unlike Roger’s cramped and cluttered office, Professor Fontaine’s office was spacious and impeccably tidy. Countless tomes and scrolls lined the perimeter of the office on shelves that went nearly ceiling-high. Priceless paintings and artifacts – likely both magical and non-magical in nature – dotted the various desks and tables throughout the quarters.

Roger cleared his throat before addressing Fontaine. “Good morning, sir. I’m here as you’ve asked.”

“Ah, yes, good morning Roger,” replied Fontaine in a casual tone. He chuckled softly. “You’re not the first faculty member to be overwhelmed by my office. You’ve been here, what, just over two months now?”

Roger nodded. “That’s right, Professor. I’m still getting accustomed to Ilvermorny and its offerings. I like it here, but it’s a bit different than Hogwarts. Old habits die hard, you know.”

Fontaine stroked his chin in thought. “Ahh, so is it homesickness that’s been troubling you, Roger? I mean, I can’t say I blame you – you were educated in Magical Britain so I’d imagine that some of the differences between Hogwarts and Ilvermorny throw you off from time to time?”

Roger co*cked his head. “Well, partly… but what’s really troubling me is that two of my closest friends… fellow Hogwarts alumni… recently perished, and I’ve been tasked with raising their son. They apparently want him to be kept as far away from Magical Britain as possible for his own safety.”

Fontaine nodded. “You must be referring to the unfortunate incident concerning the Potters a few days ago,” he said in a voice that wasn’t all that much louder than a whisper. “I can’t believe it myself…”

Roger threw Fontaine a bemused look. “You knew?”

Fontaine steepled his fingertips together. “Of course I knew. I keep tabs on the happenings in magical Britain – not everything that happens over there is of any consequence to us, but sometimes, it can…” He let out a deep sigh. “I do think the Potters’ plan of sending their son across the Atlantic was a wise plan, but even then, it’s not foolproof. Firstly, he has no known living relatives in over three thousand miles of Ilvermorny, so it would be useless to attempt a blood ward should he stay with you and your wife. And with you teaching much of the year, much of Harry’s raising would be your wife’s responsibility…”

“But the distance should be enough of a deterrent, I should hope,” Roger said. “I will do what I can to be a father figure to Harry, especially during the summer and holidays, as I owe that much to Lily and James.”

“And when is young Mister Potter due to be delivered?” asked Fontaine.

Roger shrugged. “I suppose any day now. I received an owl from Minerva McGonagall just a few days ago informing me that I’ve been chosen to be Harry’s caretaker… knowing her, she’ll deliver him personally.”

“It’s been quite a few years since I’ve seen Minerva,” admitted Fontaine. “She was your house head, wasn’t she? She acts more like one of your Ravenclaws… she tends to think things through before taking action, does she not?”

“That’s Old McGonagall, all right,” laughed Roger. “She’s a good lady. Very prim-and-proper, but she’s got a heart of gold once you get to know her.”

Fontaine nodded. “The Thanksgiving break is coming up in a couple of weeks… hopefully that should give you some time to clear your head. Now, be sure to let me know when Minerva gets here with young Harry. She and I have much to discuss, I reckon.”

“Yes, the Thanksgiving holiday can’t get here soon enough,” agreed Roger.

“Now, if you would like a few extra days’ furlough, I can fill in as Defense professor if you need some personal time,” offered Fontaine. “It hasn’t been that long since I actively taught, and as luck would have it, I used to teach Defense!”

Roger smiled wanly at the Headmaster. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. I think this little discussion has helped take some of the weight off my chest, but I think I need to keep teaching, as it’ll keep me busy and my thoughts on where they need to be… on my lectures and on my pupils. There’ll be a time to grieve soon enough.”

Fontaine waved a hand at Roger to dismiss him. “Very well, Roger. If you do need to take a day or two before Thanksgiving, you know how to get a hold of me.”

Chapter 3: A Very Special Delivery

Chapter Text

The following Tuesday, Roger was completely in his element as he was teaching a particularly enthralling Defense lecture to his fourth-year students. “The Wendigo is a ferocious beast… it has the skull of a bison, the antlers of a caribou, and…” Knock! Knock! Knock!

Roger sighed, and bowed his head. “Excuse me for just a moment.” He dashed toward the rear of the classroom and flung the heavy wooden door open. He practically jumped at seeing the sight of his old house head, clad in her trademark emerald green, but also carrying a large wicker basket with a small, sleeping child inside it.

“Professor McGonagall,” Roger blurted, clearly taken by surprise. He looked at the wicker basket she held under her left arm, supported by her right. “I take it this must be little Harry?”

The only response Roger got from Minerva was a nod.

Roger sighed, and turned back to the class. “Class is dismissed,” he grunted. “Read pages 180 through 196 before next lecture… there may be a quiz, so be sure to read everything carefully.” Dozens of textbooks slammed shut, followed by the shuffling of students’ feet. He addressed Minerva again. “I believe Professor Fontaine would like to see you. Would you like for me to escort you to his office?”

“Much obliged, Professor,” replied Minerva. She then handed the basket to Roger. “My arms are aching after carrying wee Harry all morning; he’s your responsibility now.”

“Oof,” grunted Roger as his arms slumped slightly at the unexpected weight… Harry certainly felt heavier than he looked. He looked inside the basket and saw the smiling face of Harry, and couldn’t help but smile back at the lad. “You’re the spitting image of your old man, Hare,” he chuckled. “And I’ll bet you’ve got your mum’s fiery spirit. I hope I know what I’m doing with you.”

Minerva placed a knowing hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Part of being a parent is learning on the fly, Roger. Lily and James aren’t expecting perfection… they just want you to love and protect Harry.” She offered him a rare smile. “I’ll be happy to provide what guidance I can, and perhaps even serve as an occasional baby-sitter – emphasis on occasional – as will Hagrid, and certainly your friends and associates on the Ilvermorny staff.”

She sighed, and hung her head in shame. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but your old friend Sirius Black…”

Roger’s face went pallid. “He’s not dead too, is he?”

Minerva’s lips straightened into a thin, tense line. Roger couldn’t help but wince – he’d seen her do that many a time during his time as a Hogwarts student. That was her signature look of disapproval, but this time he saw something more than mere disapproval… there was a certain fury in her countenance that he rarely saw before.

“No… his fate is perhaps worse than death. The night after Lily and James were killed, Sirius ostensibly went out to avenge their deaths. Bless his soul, his heart was in the right place, but he was always so brash… exceptionally so, even for a Gryffindor. He’s been accused of murdering twelve Muggles, plus your old friend Peter Pettigrew by Godric's Hollow, and was taken to Azkaban just hours after the explosion.”

Roger’s face went even whiter. “No, that’s not possible… Sirius would never murder anyone in cold blood. Especially innocent people… that’s just not who he is.” He co*cked his head. “And you’re telling me that he got thrown into a cell without due process? Even under martial law, the accused must stand trial before being sentenced…”

Minerva shook her head, the remorse on her face quite apparent. “Hagrid and I have come to the same conclusion. Black always marched to the beat of his own drum. While he’s no saint, he would never condone the senseless slaughter of innocent bystanders – be they magical or Muggle. He was almost certainly set up; but we have yet to establish any suspects. All the evidence is pointed against him, so whoever masterminded this catastrophe planned this out quite carefully.” She shrugged, her face showing additional wrinkles of worry. “For all we know, the actual perpetrator has already left Muggle Britain. I pray he or she has no plans to travel to North America.”

“We’ve got to help Sirius,” Roger said through gritted teeth. “Someone needs to question him… hear his side of the story.” He sighed, and swept a lock of his dark blonde hair back . “You’re right, Sirius has his flaws, but he’s still a good person. He’s neither a liar, nor a cold-blooded killer.”

“We will help Black,” Minerva agreed with a curt nod, “but the dust needs to settle first. What’s more important is young Harry… you and Rhonda need to take care of him. And you and I both know that Sirius would agree with me. He’d rather die than see his godson come to any harm.”

***

Several minutes later, after traversing several corridors and ascending multiple flights of stairs, a winded Minerva and Roger made their way to the iron-clad double doors that marked the entrance to the Headmaster’s office.

“Xuanlong,” Minerva trilled confidently. The large doors made a loud grinding sound before slowly creaking open. A dimly-lit pathway revealed itself, and the professors continued their march to the Headmaster’s antechamber.

“How did you know that, Professor?” Roger asked quizzically. “I’m a member of the Ilvermorny faculty and not even I know the password… granted, only the seniormost staff get that privilege.”

Minerva chuckled. “As second-in-command at Hogwarts, I’m privy to quite a bit of classified information. Albus and Agilbert do maintain a healthy, professional relationship, after all…”

“I’m surprised you haven’t applied for the Headmaster position at Ilvermorny when it opened a couple of years ago,” replied Roger. “You would have had a fair chance of getting it.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, but as it stands, I have little interest in becoming Headmistress at either Hogwarts or Ilvermorny,” countered Minerva. “The opportunity may arise one day, but my time and talents are better served exactly as they are now.”

At the end of the corridor, they stopped at an archway blocked by a large spherical boulder that looked like it weighed dozens of tons. Minerva and Roger both placed their left hands on the massive slab until it began to faintly glow. The stone cleanly parted, allowing the professors entry to the Headmaster’s elliptical-shaped office.

The two were then greeted boisterously by Fontaine. “Minerva! Roger! I’ve been expecting you two. Please, have a seat. Would either of you care for some tea and a light snack?”

“It’s been ages, Agilbert,” replied Minerva as she shook Fontaine’s hand. “And some Earl Grey tea would be delightful, if you have it. Three sugars and a splash of milk, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Minerva,” chuckled Fontaine. “And how about yourself, Roger?”

Roger smirked. “The usual, Headmaster. Hot Toddy ginger tea with extra cinnamon, please.”

Fontaine nodded. “Certainly.” He clapped his hands twice, and two saucers and two matching teacups instantly appeared on a mahogany table between Minerva and Roger’s plush seats. “And as for young Harry here…” He snapped his fingers, and a medium-sized brown teddy bear appeared in Harry’s wicker basket. Harry just stared at the new toy in wonder, before cooing in delight.

“Professor Fontaine, thank you for having me here today,” said Minerva before clearing her throat. “I do have a few things I need to get off my chest, if you’ll allow me…”

“Of course, Minerva,” murmured Fontaine. “What can I help you with?”

Minerva paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. “As you already know, Roger here was asked to be Harry’s primary caretaker. I take it you have no problem with that arrangement?”

Fontaine shook his head. “No, no problem at all. I have no doubt that he and Rhonda can provide Harry a stable and safe environment, one conducive for a happy and healthy childhood.”

Minerva flattened her lips. “With all due respect, Professor, we may be on totally different wavelengths. You have had a professional relationship with Roger for only a few short months. I’ve known him for over ten years… and needless to say, I think he still has some growing up to do.” She took a small sip from her teacup. “I don’t doubt his capabilities as Defense professor, and I’m sure he’ll be an attentive and loving surrogate father, but I’m… unsure if he has the maturity to handle being a father and a professor concurrently… those two occupations are demanding enough on their own…”

Fontaine stroked his beard in thought. “Well, Roger is what, twenty-two? He’s legally an adult in both the wizarding and no-maj worlds…”

Minerva took another sip of her tea before elaborating. “You’re right, he is an adult, Agilbert. But if you want my recommendation, he should step down as Defense professor, and become Harry’s guardian, full-time.”

“Step down? Rhonda can’t support three people on just her salary… things are stretched thin enough as they are,” interrupted Roger, who stood to his feet in protest.

Fontaine gestured for Roger to take his seat. “Roger, we can’t force you to choose, but Minerva does have a point; one which I am inclined to agree with. Right now, being Harry’s guardian should be your top priority… and if you do decide to step down from your post, I will ensure that MACUSA provides a stipend for your family until Harry becomes of legal age. You and your family will not go without food or shelter as long as you fulfill your parental duties.”

“But what about the remainder of the term?” blurted Roger. “Someone has to teach those kids defense…”

Fontaine smiled. “Like I said before, I can handle it, even for the remainder of the term if need be. From what I’ve gathered, you’re a more than capable instructor, and you’re welcome to re-apply for the position in the future should you so choose. In fact, I’m sure little Harry would love nothing more than to have you teach one of his classes.” He chuckled softly. “I hope you don’t hand him house points for remembering to brush his teeth.”

Roger’s face flushed. “I’d treat him just like any other student, sir.”

“Now listen to me, Roger,” Minerva added. “You had the advantage of growing up in a magical family, but for Harry’s safety, I want you to limit the magic used in your household. He should be enrolled in Muggle schools, have Muggle friends, and play Muggle games.”

She paused again, as she wanted to make the next point as clear as possible. “There may come a time when Harry finds out he’s different. Strange things may happen around him that he can’t explain. To you and I, they’re completely normal, but to Muggles, these happenings are nothing short of bizarre. And they’ll be bizarre to Harry, at least initially, so of course he’ll start to ask questions. Questions about why things happen the way they do. Questions about his real parents. I don’t want you to lie to Harry, but I also want you to be very tactful and reveal only the absolute minimum amount of information, because say, a seven or even eleven year old boy will not be able to handle the truth, at least in its entirety. If you tell him too much too early, he may begin to poke around places he’ll have no business poking around, and perhaps find himself in trouble that he can’t get himself out of. He may be persistent with his questions, so I encourage you to be patient yet firm. You won’t be denying him the truth; you’re simply going to be delaying it.”

Roger stared blankly at Minerva, then at Fontaine. “That’s… that’s a lot to take in.” He took a sip of his Hot Toddy, and addressed Fontaine. “Will you need notification of my resignation in writing?”

Fontaine smiled. “No need, my boy. I’ll cross all the T’s and dot all the I’s; your only responsibility is Harry.” He looked at the enormous, ornate grandfather clock that was nestled in between two equally-towering bookshelves. “It looks like the NAMURS departs at three o’clock. If you leave now, you should have more than enough time to reach the Union Station and catch the train.”

“NAMURS?” asked Minerva. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that.”

Fontaine chuckled. “North American Underground Railway System… it’s a lot more extensive than your Hogwarts Express; but that is to be expected. There’s exponentially more territory to cover here than in Great Britain.”

Minerva simply nodded. “Ahh.” She turned toward Harry, and picked the little boy up and gave him a tender hug. “You be good for Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda, Harry. I promise they’ll take good care of you.” She held him more tightly. Her patrician façade began to falter, ever-so-slightly. “Your Auntie Minnie is going to miss you so, so much. I promise we’ll see each other again sometime… until then, good luck, Harry Potter.”

Chapter 4: Justice For Sirius

Chapter Text

Roger returned to Surrey in British Columbia with Harry. Although he quickly found himself attached the the little tyke, he felt somewhat disappointed that he couldn’t fulfill his dream of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was certainly a bittersweet event, but he took heart in knowing that Fontaine would permit him to return to Ilvermorny to teach again one day. And as far as his old friend Sirius was concerned, he never felt so helpless in his life… he could also be out helping Minerva clear the Black scion’s name and find the real perpetrator. He again looked at Harry and smiled at the tiny child, who was fast asleep and blissfully unaware of everything that had transpired recently.

He yawned and stretched his arms out as far as he could in the cramped compartment. The steady hum of the subway, coupled with Harry’s peaceful breathing put Roger in a trance, and he slowly lost consciousness and drifted off to sleep… it would be the most restful nap he would get in quite a while.

For the next several years, Roger and Rhonda did their best to raise Harry the way Lily and James wanted… despite their limited finances – the promised stipend covered the necessities and not much else – they made sure Harry never went without. It was more of a struggle for Roger than Rhonda as he had to acclimate himself to a nearly magic-free lifestyle, but he did the best he could. He tried his hardest to adapt to Canadian culture, which was in some ways quite similar to British culture, but in other ways, it was vastly different.

Muggle Canadians, he noticed, had an almost unnatural obsession with a stick-and-puck game played on ice… ice hockey, he recalled. He even went to lengths to purchase a pair of ice skates and a hockey stick for Harry’s sixth birthday, and would take him to the rink during the fall and winter months so he could practice and maybe even make friends with some of the other children.

One late October Saturday afternoon, Roger took Harry to the rink so he could practice his slapshot. Harry was a natural with a puck and stick, and could accurately shoot the puck into the net from forty feet away from the net. His powerful slapshots even caught the attention of a tall, burly middle-aged man providing instructions to a group of older boys, perhaps eight or nine years old.

The tall man approached Roger and Harry and whistled in disbelief. “Your kid… he’s got a heck of a shot. He’s what, six? Seven? He hits harder than most of my nine-year olds, and with more accuracy to boot!” He extended a hand toward Roger. “Steve Butler. I’m a junior league coach, and I think it’s safe to say that your boy has some potential.”

Roger nodded as he accepted the handshake. “Roger Woodward. Harry here’s just six, and he’s only been practicing for a couple of weeks really. He does seem to be a natural with the stick in his hand…”

Steve laughed. “I’ll say. Tell you what, Roger, you ought to keep bringing him here to this rink and let him do his thing. I can’t let him on the team this year, as it’s for seven year olds on up – no exceptions – but I’d love to hone his skills next year if you’ll let me. He’d be a dynamite player with an experienced coach out there to guide him.”

Roger looked at Steve and smirked. “I think the one you really should ask is Harry.” He turned to the boy, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Would you like Mister Steve to coach you next year? He thinks you could be a really good ice hockey player…”

“You mean I’ll actually get to play on a team, Uncle Roger?” Harry asked excitedly. “For real?”

“For real,” chuckled Roger. “For now, just keep hitting the puck like you’ve been doing. You really know how to put the puck in that net.”

***

When Harry and Roger returned to their flat that evening, an urgent-sounding rapping noise from the kitchen window interrupted their dinner. When Rhonda got up to open the window to see what the ruckus was, a large spotted owl flew in, causing Rhonda to shriek. While the owl also took Roger by surprise, he at least wasn’t alarmed. “It’s okay, Rhonda,” he said calmly as he caught a neatly-wrapped parchment in his hand.

“I’ll never get used to those crazy birds,” grumbled Rhonda. “If they’re so smart, why can’t they just knock on the front door?”

“Because they won’t go away until they know they’ve reached the intended recipient,” replied Roger glibly. He unfurled the note and read its contents.

“Saturday, 18 October 1986

It’s been far too long, Roger. I just wanted to write and let you know that after four and a half years of perpetual torment in Azkaban, I am finally a free man. Thanks to the persistence of friends and allies like yourself, enough evidence had been obtained to have my name cleared. I’ve whiled away my time by keeping my thoughts on Harry.

Speaking of, if you’re okay with it, I would like to come to Surrey and visit my godson during the holidays. I’ll see if I can bring a Christmas present for him. I’ll be sure to tell you more of my story when I get there.

Yours truly,

Sirius”

THUD!

Rhonda gasped when she saw her husband fall from his seat, nearly hitting his head on the kitchen tile. “Roger! Are you all right? Speak to me!”

Roger propped himself up, and looked at his equally-stunned wife. “Yeah, I think so…” He rubbed the back of his shoulder, then smiled at his wife. “It’s good news, I promise.”

Rhonda co*cked her head. “The way you fell out of your chair, I thought you’d have cracked your skull open.”

Rhonda exhaled a sigh of relief. “That’s very good news, honey. I’m glad to hear that your friend’s been proven innocent… now did he say who was responsible for the crime he was accused of?”

“He hasn’t,” Roger murmured. “But I suspect he knows much more than he’s told me so far.” His face brightened, grinning like the former schoolboy he was. “What’s even better is that he wants to come over around Christmas. He’s been aching to see Hare… he says he wants to bring him a gift.”

“I suppose I have no problem with him wanting to see his godson,” admitted Rhonda. “Did he say how long he’d be staying? We don’t have a lot of extra room, and we have just enough to feed two adults and a small child.”

Roger shook his head. “He didn’t say, but he’s a Black… even if he’s not exactly in good standing with the rest of his family, he’s still too proud to mooch.”

“Yeah, I seem to recall him being disinherited for joining your Order of the Plebeians or whatever it was called…”

“Phoenix,” chuckled Roger. “And yes, he did get disinherited. He, along with his cousin Andromeda. Neither of them bought the ‘blood supremacy’ balderdash that practically every other Black lived and breathed.”

“You and your magical friends are five hundred years behind the rest of the world,” groaned Rhonda. “The lot of you think you’re so enlightened, but you’re really just so provincial and petty.”

Roger guffawed. “You’re preaching to the choir, darling.” He planted a smooch on her cheek.

***

It was Christmas eve in Greater Vancouver, and the chilly, foggy conditions made it foreboding for travel. It was barely above freezing, and the cold drizzle threatened to harden into ice. The foreboding weather didn’t deter Sirius Black from paying the Woodwards a long-overdue visit.

Traveling under the guise of a black, somewhat mangy dog, he prowled the streets of Surrey to find 57 Skylark Place. He finally found the correct street at about a quarter til eight in the evening, passing row after row of small, quaint townhomes. When he was certain he found the correct address, he found a suitable shrub to revert to his human form.

When Roger heard a distinct pounding on his front door, he wasn’t totally prepared for the sight in front of him as he unlatched the bolt and turned the knob. He knew the man was Sirius, but he looked so… different. Sirius seemed so haggard and frail, just a shadow of the strapping, co*cky kid he knew from his Hogwarts days. Sirius looked like he barely weighed a hundred pounds, and his dark brown hair and beard were both matted and unkempt.

The two friends embraced each other like they haven’t seen each other in years – which truly was the case. Roger invited Sirius to the living room, and offered him a cup of piping hot tea, which Sirius gratefully accepted.

“The way you looked at me,” Sirius chuckled, “it was if you hardly recognized me.” He chuckled again. “If you think I look bad now, you should have seen me three months ago when I found out I was a free man. I’ve put on about a half stone since then.” He gestured toward Rhonda. “It’s been forever, Rhonda. I hope you’ve been keeping old Rog in check?”

“I have, though it certainly hasn’t always been easy,” replied Rhonda with a grin. “He’s definitely grown up a bit since you two were galivanting around Hoodwinks…”

“Hogwarts,” Sirius and Roger both corrected with hearty laughs.

Rhonda rolled her eyes. “Whatever. At any rate, I’m glad to hear that you were found innocent of those awful crimes. Roger never believed for a moment you’d be responsible for taking innocent lives like that…”

“Four and a half years of hell,” moaned Sirius. He then smirked. “About six months after they tossed me in that blasted cell, Old McGonagall and Remus came in to hear my side of the story. They told me that I still had friends, and that they would do whatever it took to get me the trial I was supposed to get.” His eyes narrowed to ominous slits. “You’ll never believe who was responsible, Rog.”

Roger scrunched his face. “Well, who?”

Sirius hung his head in shame. “Peter. Peter Pettigrew.”

“Peter was behind the killings?” Roger roared. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d love to get my hands on his throat and squeeze the life out of him…”

“I don’t think he’s dead, Roger,” said Sirius, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “I think he faked his death.”

“What makes you think that?” asked Rhonda, who inexplicably found herself fascinated by the story.

“He’s a Slytherin in Gryffindor clothing…” Sirius gestured respectfully toward Rhonda. “I know that doesn’t mean much to you, but Slytherins are all about self-preservation.” He shook his head angrily. “That ticks me off… you, James, Remus and I all would have died for him, no question.”

“So, what evidence was there that ultimately cleared your name?” asked Roger. “Surely they needed something tangible to prove you were innocent.”

Sirius reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a piece of wood. “Peter’s wand was destroyed in the explosion. Thankfully, the DMLE was able to find a piece large enough to test, and found that he had cast several Unforgivables not all that long before the unfortunate incident, not to mention they did trace the curse itself to the wand fragment.” He smirked. “Mine was already in safe keeping at the DMLE, so they were able to test mine for comparison… of course, everything came up clean.”

Roger nodded. “That’s all well and good, but where do you think Peter could have gone, assuming you believe he’s alive and in hiding?”

Sirius sighed. “Like myself, he has an unregistered Animagus… but in rat form. He could literally be anywhere… even North America. My guess is that he wants to finish the job… he’ll want you, me, and Remus dead… and as much as it pains me to say it, Harry as well.”

Roger’s heart pounded – a bead of sweat began to form on his brow. “But Harry was brought over here specifically for his protection… and there are no blood wards here to protect him.”

“I do think Harry is better off in Canada,” admitted Sirius. “But no matter what, you’re just delaying the inevitable. Peter knows he’ll be no match for Harry when he’s a fully trained wizard, and will take no chance for that to come to fruition. He’s probably been hiding in his rat form, biding his time until the opportunity presents itself to take the rest of us out. It’s just a matter of time before he knows Harry’s in North America, if he’s not already aware of it.”

His face brightened again. “Oh, in other news, Bartemius Crouch the Elder has been sentenced to life in Azkaban for corruption charges. From what I gather, there’s also a movement to get Minister Fudge removed from office as well, for incompetent leadership…”

“That’s good to hear,” Roger responded with candor. “Magical Britain is better off without those two anyway. Who would they replace Fudge with, anyway?”

Sirius chuckled. “Rumor mill says that they want Albus Dumbledore to assume the mantle, though I don’t think he wants it. Realistically, I would imagine that it would be the head of DMLE, Amelia Bones. She runs a tight ship and doesn’t take much crap.”

“Amelia would be a good choice,” agreed Roger. “And you’re probably right about Dumbledore. I don’t think he’d fare poorly, but he does seem to dislike politics. He’s an educator at his core.”

“Too right,” Sirius said. “So, where’s the little Pronglet at? I haven’t seen him in years… and I do hope he’ll like this gift, though it probably would be a bit too big for him right now, I’d imagine.”

Rhonda smirked before calling for Harry. “Harry? There’s a very special guest in the living room who wants to see you…”

Six-year old Harry Potter rushed from his bedroom to the living room, and practically froze in place when he saw the slight figure of his godfather.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, Pup,” Sirius said with a huge grin. “It’s me, your godfather, Sirius Black. Your Uncle Roger and I go way back. C’mere, Harry. I’ve got something for you.”

Harry’s eyes never left Sirius’ face as he approached his godfather. His expression could be best described as mesmerized. His eyes grew even bigger when he saw the sleek, silver garment that Sirius produced from behind his back.

“This, pup, is a very, very special cloak. This once belonged to your father, James. He would have wanted you to have it… now, I think it’s probably a bit too big for you now, but in a couple of years I think you’ll be big enough to wear it.”

Rhonda rightly assumed that the garment was magical, and took the cloak from Sirius before Harry had a chance to try it on. “Thank you for the wonderful gift, Sirius,” she said in a sweet voice before turning to Harry. “Like your godfather said, you can wear it when you’re a little older. Until then, I’ll put it in safe place for the time being so that it doesn’t get torn or dirty.”

Harry gave his foster mother an incredulous look. “But Aunt Rhonda,” he protested.

“No buts, Harry,” purred Rhonda. “You’ll have a chance to try it sometime, but it won’t be today. End of discussion.” Harry started to pout, but Rhonda gave him a quick glare, so he averted his eyes and looked toward his godfather.

“So… what should I call you?” Harry asked Sirius with soulful green eyes. “Godfather’s too… I’unno… proper.”

Sirius chuckled. “Sirius is fine, or if you want a nickname, Padfoot. I used to go by that when I was in school.”

Harry smiled. “Padfoot… I like that.”

“I think that’s settled then,” Roger chimed in with a grin.

“So, Padfoot, are you gonna be stayin’ with us?” Harry asked with hope in his voice.

Sirius shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not, Pup. But I promise you this… you’ll be seeing a lot more of me now. I think I can get used to Western Canada…”

Chapter 5: When Harry Met Ana

Chapter Text

The next four and a half years practically flew by. The older Harry got, the more he resembled a younger version of James, thought Roger and Sirius. In addition to her brilliant emerald-green eyes, Harry also inherited Lily’s sharp mind and stubbornness. He was able to achieve top marks in his classes without exerting too much effort, and despite his rather slight build, he was the starting right wing on the local junior ice hockey team. Coach Butler rarely gushed over any of his players, but Harry’s slapshot was special. He attacked the puck like a madman, and his shot found the net more often than not.

Roger, Rhonda, and Sirius went to all of Harry’s games and cheered him on without fail. Sirius and Roger couldn’t help but compare Harry’s skill on the ice to how well James handled a broom on the quidditch pitch. Thanks to Harry’s natural skill with a stick, the Kodiaks had won two straight Junior League championships and Harry was chomping at the bit to make it three.

However, in early July 1991, Harry’s life would change forever, when a strange letter arrived by owl at the Woodwards’ townhome, addressed to a Mister H. Potter at 57 Skylark Drive in Surrey:

“Dear Mr. Potter:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Massachusetts, U.S.A.

Students shall be required to report to the Chamber of Reception upon arrival, the dates for which shall be duly advised.

Please ensure that the utmost attention be made to the list of requirements attached herewith.

We very much look forward to receiving you as part of the new generation of Ilvermorny heritage.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Emaline Goode

Deputy Headmistress”

Harry did a double-take after reading the letter in the living room. “What does this all mean?” he asked, the confusion apparent in his voice.

Roger sighed, and revealed the truth to Harry. “It means you have the capability of learning magic, Harry. I’m sure you’ve noticed that strange things happen on occasion when you get hurt, or scared… it’s not a coincidence.”

“Your Uncle Roger and I are both wizards,” chimed in Sirius. “As were your parents.”

Harry then looked at Rhonda. “What about you, Aunt Rhonda? Do you know magic?”

Rhonda could only shake her head sadly. “I’m afraid not, dear. I don’t have your gift… but while I do have my personal reservations, this is your calling, Harry. You need to go to Ilvermorny and learn magic, because from what your Uncle Roger has told me before, if you don’t properly harness your faculties, you could be a danger to yourself and others.”

Sirius shrugged. “You could also follow in your parents’ footsteps and go to Hogwarts in Scotland, if you’d like. Normally it’s for British students only, but as you’re a legacy they’ll have no choice but to accept you.”

“No, for his safety, he needs to stay in North America,” replied Roger gently yet firmly. “James and Lily would agree, I’d wager.”

Sirius smirked. “I suppose an education is an education… while Ilvermorny isn’t as tradition-steeped as Hogwarts, I guarantee it’s a quality institution nonetheless.” His smirk grew into a full smile. “And as your eleventh birthday is right around the corner, I’ll cover any and all expenses for your first term at Ilvermorny. I’ll even get you an owl, if you’d like.”

“But I thought you were disinherited,” replied Roger, slack-jawed. “How can you even afford that?”

Sirius chuckled. “Hahahaha. The goblins at Gringotts didn’t know that. They’re too busy counting gold coins to care about wizarding family affairs… If you can believe it, I still have access to the Black family vault – in fact, not long after I came to Canada, I transferred a sizable sum to a private account in North America that nobody in Britain can touch without my explicit permission! I reckon it’ll tide me over for a good, long while.”

Roger couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a pretty Slytherin move there, Padfoot.”

Sirius could only shrug in response. “Well Pup, I suppose we should take a look at that supply list and get you ready for your first year at Ilvermorny…” He looked at Roger. “Say, Rog, where is the nearest wizarding district from here?”

“There’s Nessel Rode in Boston, which is a stone’s throw from Ilvermorny. That’s the only wizarding community I’ve ever spent time in, at least in North America,” replied Roger. “To my knowledge, there are other wizarding communities in the continent, but I guarantee Nessel Rode will have everything Harry needs, and then some.”

***

On Harry’s eleventh birthday – July the 31^st – Harry, Sirius, and the Woodwards traveled to Boston to shop for supplies for Harry’s upcoming first term at Ilvermorny. They booked a Muggle flight from Vancouver to Boston, and took a taxi to a rather run-down looking pub called The Cracked Phial.

“A rather poor imitation of The Leaky Cauldron,” mused Sirius as he entered the establishment. A middle-aged gentleman with bushy flame-red hair, and equally bushy mutton chops greeted the group from behind the counter. “Roger Woodward! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around these parts,” the bartender exclaimed with a strong Northeastern accent. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“It has been a while, Jasper,” replied Roger. “I’m afraid I’m just here on official business today. You see, young Harry here has his first term to look forward to, and I want to make sure he’s fully-prepared.”

“Well, hello young Harry,” Jasper added with a chuckle. “I think you’ll like Ilvermorny. It’s not as fancy as Hogwarts, but the faculty here are a little bit less full of themselves.” He pointed the group toward the back of the pub. “I’m guessing you’ll want to get to Nessel Rode to do some shopping. If you’ll follow me…” He led them to an ostensibly solid brick wall, with no decorations or other markings indicating that a doorway existed, then produced a long black wand from thin air, and traced the outline of a doorway. One by one, the bricks began to disappear, forming an archway.

“All right, Hare, what does your list say as far as books go?” asked Roger as they traversed the long, winding cobbled pathway. “Scryer’s is the bookstore around here, and it’s just over there, if memory serves,” he added, pointing at an eleven o’clock direction.

Harry dug into his pocket and unfolded a parchment. “Hmm,” he said, glossing over the list:

• “The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk
• A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
• Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
• A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
• One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
• Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
• Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
• The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble”

“Like I said, Harry, your tuition and supplies are on me,” Sirius said with a silly grin. “Let’s go inside this Scryer’s shop and get you all the reading material you need.” He followed Harry and the Woodwards inside. Harry was about to look for the first book on his list – “The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1” – but he lost his focus for a split second, and boof! He bumped into another child, roughly his age he figured, and several books came spilling out of her arms.

“Oh goodness, I’m so terribly sorry,” Harry said as he quickly gathered all the books that scattered on the floor. “I guess I got distracted for a moment.” He fully expected the girl to turn around but give him what what-for, but instead, she smiled at him and giggled. The girl was quite cute, Harry thought. She was petite… maybe an inch or so taller than Harry and about as slim, and had long, slightly wavy russet brown hair that went past her shoulders, and her eyes were a distinct yellowish-greenish hazel. She had faded freckles on either side of her button-like nose, and her smile… well, it was exceptionally lovely to say the least.

“Did you just say sore-y?” she said with a giggle. “You must be Canadian.” She smiled again as she placed her books in a bag, then thrust her right hand out to Harry. “Anyhoo, I’m Ana Harrison from South Bend, Indiana. It’s short for Anastasia. It’s Greek for resurrection – did you know?”

Harry suddenly felt giddy. None of the girls back in Surrey ever gave him the time of day, but this Ana girl… she was very friendly, to say the least. “Yeah, I’m from Canada all right. And I’m Harry. Harry Potter from Surrey. It’s by Vancouver,” replied Harry with a bit of a nervous stutter as he shook her hand. “I’m a first-year student… this is so new to me, so I don’t really know what to expect.”

“Oh, so you’re no-maj born then too?” asked Ana. “I’m about to be a second-year student… a Horned Serpent, actually. To put it in layman’s terms, it’s where the smart students usually end up. Maybe we could be housemates – friends, even!”

Harry smiled – he certainly liked the sound of that. A friend at his new school, right off the bat! “Yeah, that sounds terrific! So tell me, how did you end up as a Horned Serpent? What other, erm, options are there?”

Ana covered her mouth with one hand to stifle another round of giggles. “Oh goodness Harry, you’re just going to have to find that out for yourself! As far as the other houses – there’s Wampus, Pukwudgie, and the Thunderbirds… they’re all good houses, really.” She co*cked her head. “And you didn’t answer my question – are you no-maj born?”

Harry shook his head ‘no’. “My parents were both magical, but they were killed in Great Britain just about ten years ago. I was raised by my Aunt Rhonda, who isn’t magical, and my Uncle Roger and to a lesser extent, my godfather Sirius, both of whom are magical. Neither of them showed me much magic, I’m afraid, so I might as well be no-maj born.”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason they didn’t tell you much about magic,” surmised Ana. She once again flashed that beautiful smile of hers. “Don’t worry too much about it, Harry. I can show you the ropes once we get to the castle on September 1^st. I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I did finish top of my year last year…”

“I’m no slouch in the classroom either,” Harry said. “I’m sure that the classes at Ilvermorny are very different than my non-magical classes, but I think I’ll be up for the challenge.”

“A lot of no-maj born kids say that, Harry,” warned Ana. “I’m sure you’re plenty bright, but don’t get too co*cky… you’re going to have to study your butt off if you’re going to even sniff the top five because I guarantee you won’t be the only smart one in your house, let alone your whole year! I can’t even begin to tell you how many hours I’ve spent in the library last year…”

“If you want to study with me, I won’t turn down a study partner,” said Harry tactfully. “From what I can tell, you seem to be a nice girl, and you also seem to know what you’re doing. You never know when I could use the help.”

Ana flashed that hundred-watt smile of hers again. “Good. Even if you end up in another house, I’ll be happy to be your study-buddy. You do seem to be a sweet boy, even if you are a teensy bit clumsy.” She again tried to stifle a giggle.

“I’m not that clumsy,” grumbled Harry indignantly. “I’m the leading scorer on my local ice hockey team, thank-you-very-much.”

Ana gave Harry a small, playful shove. “Oh chill, Harry. I’m just playin’ with you.”

Suddenly, a woman that Harry surmised to be Ana’s mother called out for her. “Hey, I gotta go, Harry. It was really nice meeting you! I’ll see you at the castle in about a month, mmkay?”

“It was really nice meeting you too, Ana,” Harry replied as he waved good-bye to his new friend. “I can’t wait to see you again!”

Chapter 6: Tripping And Falling

Chapter Text

It didn’t take all that long for Harry to find all the books on his list. After Sirius handed the cashier a small stack of dragots, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at his godson. “Who’s that pretty girl that you were talking to a few minutes ago? She seems nice.”

Harry’s face turned pink. “Uh, yeah... that was Ana. Anastasia Harrison. She’s going to be a second-year student this term. I think she said she’s a horned serpent or something… I don’t recall exactly, but she said that she got grouped with the smart ones… she finished top of her year last term, as a matter of fact.”

“Yeah, she’d probably be a Ravenclaw if she went to Hogwarts,” agreed Sirius. “She sure seems to come across as bright.” He chuckled again. “Anastasia, huh? That’s a pretty name for a witch, though uncommon. If memory serves, it means resurrection.”

Harry looked at his godfather, somewhat stunned. “Yeah, that’s what she said… she even offered to study with me. I’m not going to lie, it’ll be nice to spend time with someone that knows how things work at Ilvermorny.”

Sirius nodded. “That Anastasia girl sounds like she’d be a good friend to have. Since she has a year under her belt, she’ll have plenty of good advice for you… she can tell you things that your Uncle Roger and I cannot, as Ilvermorny may do things a little differently than Hogwarts, so you would do well to listen to her.”

“So Hare, what’s next on the shopping list?” asked Roger. “We got your books, but you’ll still need to be fitted with your uniform, right?”

Harry shrugged. “I s’pose. That, and I need to get some supplies, like a cauldron, some ink, quills, and parchment…”

“What about your wand?” asked Sirius. “Surely that’s on your supply list?”

Harry took a second to wipe off his round spectacles. “Hmm… it says that wands are traditionally handed out on campus on the first day of class.”

Sirius stroked his stubble-covered chin. “Strange… most of us back in the British Isles got ours in Diagon Alley. Ollivander’s makes a good wand, though not everyone gets their wands from that shop.”

Harry and the adults kept making their way down the main avenue of Nessel Rode when Rhonda pointed out a sign hanging between two large windows. “Madam Forbush’s Orthodox and Outlandish Outfits,” she remarked. “I’d wager that’s where you can get your clothes for your upcoming term, Harry.”

The four went inside, where an elderly plump witch greeted them almost as soon as the door shut behind them. “Welcome to Madam Forbush’s,” she declared boisterously. “What can I help you with?”

“Hello there. Young Harry here is about to start his first term, and we’re here to make sure he’s properly outfitted,” replied Rhonda. “Are we in the right place?”

The elderly witch chuckled. “Right place? You’re in the only place, my dear.” She looked at Harry. “Well, come with me, young man.” She turned to the adults. “This shouldn’t take too long – we’ll be finished before you can say higitus figitus!” She escorted him toward the rear of the store, which somehow looked far larger on the inside than the storefront indicated. “All right, sonny, let’s see the list they provided you.”

Harry dug into his pocket and provided the witch the list that came with his letter. She quickly slipped on reading glasses with lenses shaped like six-pointed stars, and just as quickly returned the list to Harry. She flicked her birch wand several times – once on Harry’s head, again on his shoulders, his wrists, his waist, ankles and feet. “I now have your measurements, young man,” she purred. “Now, wait here.”

Harry sat on a stool and waited patiently for the witch to return. It wasn’t a long wait at all – perhaps three or four minutes – and the witch returned with a stack of neatly-folded clothes and a cheerful grin on her face. “Here you go, dear,” she squeaked. “Go to the changing room behind you and try these on.”

Harry did as he was told, and about five minutes later, he emerged in a plain black robe, white dress shirt with a black bow tie, sweater vest, trousers, and dress shoes.

“You look quite dapper, young man,” the plump old witch trilled. “Those are your formal robes – they’ll be worn only for special occasions, such as the start of term feast.” She then handed him another set of clothes – they looked a little more casual than the previous set. Harry eagerly accepted the new clothes and went back to change.

When he emerged, he wore a plain black golf shirt, khaki trousers, and brown hiking-type boots. “That is your regular uniform. The shirt’s pattern will change to reflect your house colors after you get sorted,” the witch explained. She again handed him another set of clothes. “You will be expected to be in good physical condition, so these will be what you’ll wear when working out each weekday morning.”

Again, Harry returned to the changing room to put on a simple white tee shirt and black shorts, along with some basic white running shoes.

“Your trustees can enchant these for you during the winter months to keep you protected from the elements,” the witch continued. “You’ll learn how to enchant these yourselves during your third year, if memory serves.”

“Trustees?” asked Harry, who was thoroughly confused.

The witch chuckled. “They’re upperclassmen from each house that act as the eyes and ears of faculty when they’re not available. They can be distinguished by the silver sashes that they way on their uniforms. You’ll be wise to listen to them… not only can they offer sage advice to firsties, but they can also serve as disciplinarians if you step out of line. They represent their respective house heads, so I urge you to treat them with the same respect that you would faculty.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry breathed, still unsure of what she meant.

The witch merely smiled. “Don’t worry too much, dearie. It’ll make more sense soon enough.” She then yelped. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ll need to throw in a cap, some gloves, and a scarf. Trust me, you’ll need them all come winter.”

“Thanks,” replied Harry appreciatively. “Thanks for all your help.”

“My pleasure, young man,” chirped the witch. “I’ll get your clothes packed and have them ready up front in a jiffy.”

Once again, Sirius cheerfully pushed a stack of dragots on the counter toward the cashier. Once Sirius received his change, everyone grabbed a bag of Harry’s new school clothes and left the shop to continue their shopping. They got everything on Harry’s list, but before they left the shopping district, Sirius cleared his throat. “By the way, Harry, I don’t think we’ve broached the subject of your familiar…”

“Familiar?” asked Harry, his face scrunched in a puzzled expression.

Sirius chuckled. “Companion, if you will. Like an owl, or a toad, or the like. Personally, I’d go with an owl, as they can send and receive letters – even some packages.”

Harry’s face brightened almost immediately. “That would be brilliant, Padfoot. So, where do we go to get one of those?”

“Right over there,” laughed Sirius as he pointed to a sign across the street. “Eeylops Owl Emporium – I didn’t know they had a branch this side of the Atlantic!” He led the group to the little shop, where dozens of owls of various sizes and colors stood on perches or rested in cages. “Well pup, see anything you like?” he asked casually.

Harry’s jaw dropped at the menagerie – there were something about these owls that struck him as a bit odd. Like, they were far more intelligent than a regular owl. There was something about their faces, like they had an almost-sentient expression. A smallish, snowy owl in a golden cage fluffed its feathers and squawked at Harry several times, as if to grab his attention.

“Well, hello there pretty thing,” Harry cooed to the owl. He reached his fingers inside the cage to stroke the little owl’s feathers. The owl seemed to react positively to Harry’s touch, as it fluffed and fanned its feathers to let Harry know exactly where it wanted his fingers.

“I think she likes you,” the shopkeeper told Harry. “My cousin in Diagon Alley sent me this little darling just a few days ago… she doesn’t react to my other customers like she does with you!”

“What do you think, pup?” chuckled Sirius. “She obviously likes you.”

“She’s brilliant,” admitted Harry as he picked the cage up to hand to the shopkeeper.

“So, what do you want to call her?” asked Rhonda. “Maybe Celeste?”

Both Sirius and Harry gave Rhonda a strange look. “Okay, maybe not Celeste,” Rhonda said in a sheepish tone.

“How about Hedwig?” suggested the shopkeeper. “A one-of-a-kind name, for a one-of-a-kind owl.”

Harry nodded in approval. “She rather does look like a Hedwig…” He again looked inside the cage to admire his new feathered friend. “What does a pretty girl like you eat?”

The shopkeeper grinned. “They’re natural predators,” he explained. “They’ll eat small rodents, toads, spiders, snakes, fish, or even other birds! If they’re desperate they’ll even eat turtles!”

“Am I responsible for feeding Hedwig?” asked Harry.

“Yes and no,” replied the shopkeeper. “Hedwig is a very clever girl – you just need to let her out of her cage every day so she can hunt. She doesn’t mind her cage – it’s her ‘safe space’ so to speak, but she’s happiest when she’s flying and foraging. That said, while she can fend for herself, she won’t say ‘no’ to an occasional bit of sausage or a couple of crickets as a treat.”

Roger laughed. “I had an owl at Hogwarts just about twenty years ago. He was a big barn owl named Barney. I know, very original name…” Sirius and Rhonda both rolled their eyes.

“Thank you, Padfoot,” Harry said appreciatively as his godfather clinked a few coins in the shopkeeper’s hand. “It’s been a terrific birthday so far.”

“Well, it’s not every day my godson turns eleven,” Sirius replied with a bright smile. Although his four-plus years in Azkaban weathered his otherwise-handsome features, there was still a certain youthfulness in the way he smiled. “Your mum and dad would be so proud of you,” he added, tousling Harry’s dark, messy hair.

He then pointed down the street, at what appeared to be an ice cream shop. “Hey, I think I just saw your pretty little friend Anastasia walk in there with her folks. If you hurry, maybe you could have a milkshake with her?” He pushed a couple of dragots in Harry’s hands. “She really seems to like you,” he whispered, giving him a bit of an encouraging push.

“Thanks, Padfoot!” yelped Harry with pure delight in his voice. He bolted toward the ice cream shop as quickly as his little legs could carry him. He momentarily forgot that he still had quite a few belongings in his arms – including his new snowy owl companion, Hedwig – so he had to temporarily set everything down, then hold the door open with his foot while he gathered his bags and owl cage.

Unfortunately, he was so focused on finding Anastasia and her parents that he tripped and fell on the tile floor in plain view of all the patrons. Some of the children either snickered, or just stared… but to Harry’s shock, his glasses fell off his face, and he fumbled around to recover them. When he found them, he instinctively placed them on his face, but to his horror, the left lens had a large crack!

“Oh no,” he sighed to himself. “Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda are going to kill me…”

To his delight, a brunette rocket rushed up to help him gather the remainder of his belongings. “Hiya, Harry,” came a familiar squeak.

“Hi there, Ana!” Harry replied. “Am I glad to see you!”

Ana giggled. “I thought you could use a little help there.” She then co*cked her head as she saw Harry’s damaged glasses. “Tsk, tsk, Harry… it looks like your glasses could use a bit of touching up. Now, hold still, mmkay?”

Harry simply nodded while Ana produced her ten and one-quarter inch mahogany wand. “Oculus reparo,” she incanted with confidence. And just like that, Harry’s glasses were good as new!”

“Awesome, Ana,” Harry exclaimed with joy. “That was bloody amazing! Thank you!”

Ana giggle. “My pleasure, Harry.” Her giggles only intensified. “Did you really just say bloody?”

Harry’s face turned pink. “Erm, I guess so… I think I told you that my family is British.”

“That's right. So, how did you end up in North America then?” Ana asked innocently.

“It’s a bit of a long story,” sighed Harry. “Even I don’t know all the details, to be honest. I’ve asked both my aunt and uncle, and my godfather, but they kind of dodge some of my questions… like, I get the feeling they don’t think I’m ready to know the whole story yet.”

Ana just nodded. “That’s okay,” she replied with a smile. She giggled again; Harry couldn’t help but smile at the sweet musical laughter she made. “And you can deny it all you want, Harry, but you really are a little clumsy.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, that’s twice in one day I tumpled over in front of you, so I guess you’re right.” Again his cheeks flushed. “D’you mind if I sit by you and your family? If you haven’t placed your order, I’d like to buy you a milkshake…”

Ana smiled sweetly. “I don’t mind at all, Harry. I haven’t ordered yet, but if you want to treat me to a milkshake, I won’t refuse!”

Chapter 7: The Cerulean Platform

Chapter Text

The next day, Harry and the adults left Nessel Rode and hopped on the taxi to Logan International Airport for the return flight back to Surrey. Moments after the group disembarked from the taxi cab, Roger gave Harry a look. “I’m not a hundred percent sure how these Muggle airlines work, Harry, but my guess is that they won’t just take Hedwig along for the ride. We’re either going to have to pay a ridiculous fee, or she’s going to have to find her own way home.”

Rhonda nodded in agreement. “We’re already going to have to pay extra for the additional baggage… I can’t imagine how much it would cost to transport an owl on top of it!”

“She’s a clever girl, Harry,” Sirius assured his godson. “Just let her out of her cage and let her find her way back home… it may take her a few days, but she’ll get back to Surrey in one piece. I promise.”

Harry nodded, and whispered to his new avian companion. “I’m going to let you out, Hedwig. Can you find me at 57 Skylark Place in Surrey, British Columbia?” Hedwig co*cked her head and made a soft squawking sound, which Harry took as an affirmative. “That’s my girl,” Harry said, stroking his snowy owl’s feathers. “I’ll see if I can have a little treat for you when you arrive. Be safe!” He opened the little hatch, which Hedwig slipped through with ease. She then squawked again with appreciation, and fluttered off in a general westward direction.

Sirius placed a knowing hand on Harry’s shoulder and smiled. “She’s not as fast as these crazy ‘jet engines’, but she’s definitely more reliable. Just be patient – she’ll be home before you know it.” He smirked at Harry. “I’m happy for you, pup. Looks like you got yourself more than just school supplies; you’ve picked yourself up a keeper of a friend.” He gave Harry a sly wink. “And a cute one at that.” His dark, stringy hair jiggled as he shook his head. “So much like your father… he was a bit of a ladies’ man in his day, but your mum convinced him to settle down a bit.”

Harry groaned. “I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Padfoot. Cripes, I’ve literally just turned eleven…”

Sirius tousled Harry’s messy black hair. “I’m just ribbin’ ya, pup. But don’t be surprised if she starts to blossom, and you look at her as more than a friend. That day may come sooner than you think.”

“Not going to happen,” Harry shot back. “I’ll be perfectly happy being a bachelor for life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with following your godfather’s footsteps,” chuckled Sirius. “But don’t forget, I’m a most eligible bachelor. I’m just biding my time for the right witch to come along.”

“Or,” chimed in Roger, “a charming woman with talents other than magic just might sweep you off your feet, Padfoot.” He wrapped an arm around Rhonda, holding her tightly as he planted a smooch on her forehead.

“Touché, Rog,” Sirius said, pointing a finger at his friend.

“Do you think he’ll ever settle down?” Harry asked Roger and Rhonda. Both of them merely laughed before shaking their heads.

The four made their way to the ticket counter, handed over their baggage, and made their way to the terminal to await their flight back to Vancouver. Rhonda had to occasionally nudge Sirius as she could tell he was mentally undressing some of the female passengers. Can’t take you anywhere in public, Black, she thought.

The flight back to Vancouver was long, but fairly pleasant. After all their baggage had been gathered, Roger and Rhonda dropped Sirius off at his gaudy penthouse flat in downtown Vancouver, and forty five minutes later the rest of the group had pulled into their quiet, unassuming townhome in Surrey.

Harry wasted no time getting acquainted with his new textbooks. For the next several days, he went over the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 in his bedroom. He didn’t have a wand to practice yet, so he used a plain brown stick to practice the movements that went along with casting the spells. He couldn’t wait to get his actual wand and cast real spells – at least getting the incantations and movements down would make things that much easier, he figured.

About a week after returning from magical Boston, Harry was busy going over his course texts when he heard a rapping at his bedroom window one morning. He jumped for joy when he recognized his snowy owl. “Hedwig!” he yelped, as he let his companion in. “I knew you’d make it back! I’ll see if I can cook you up a bit of crumbled sausage.” She squawked, and dropped a small white envelope on his desk.

He immediately noticed that the envelope had the Ilvermorny seal on it, so he knew right then and there that the contents would be important. He quickly opened the envelope, which contained a brief letter and what appeared to be a train ticket of sorts:

“Dear Mister Potter,

We hope this note finds you well. As you should already be aware, the 1991-92 term starts on September 1^st. We have arranged your transportation to the castle – please bring the enclosed ticket to University Street Station in Seattle, Washington no later than ten o’clock AM on August 30^th. You will board the Ilvermorny Chinook, one of several North American Underground Railway System (NAMURS) trains owned and operated by the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

To board the Chinook, you will need to find the Cerulean Platform. Do not be alarmed if you don’t see the Cerulean Platform immediately – it is hidden from the non-magical public for a reason. Simply look between the Blue and Green platforms; the portal to the Cerulean Platform lies in that barrier. Be mindful of the time – the portal is open for exactly one hour; at the stroke of ten o’clock, the portal will close.

The ride to Ilvermorny takes two days’ time; each compartment comes with bunks for resting and latrines for changing. There will be a dining car for meals, and another compartment to socialize with other children – tables for cards or wizard’s chess will be provided.

We look forward to seeing you for the Start of Term feast, and we hope you have a magical year!

Sincerely,

Professor Emaline Goode

Deputy Headmistress”

Harry practically flew to the kitchen, where he found Rhonda and Roger having some coffee together. “Aunt Rhonda! Uncle Roger! Hedwig’s back,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “And she brought me this!” He placed the envelope on the table, and Roger picked it up between sips of his coffee.

“You’ve got a bit longer ride than Sirius and I had,” chuckled Roger. “It took less than a day for us on the Hogwarts Express. And if it’s anything like how Platform 9 and ¾ worked…”

“Platform 9 ¾?” Harry asked quizzically.

“It’s easier to show you than to tell you,” explained Roger. “I’m pretty sure it works the same way.”

“Oh, okay,” sighed Harry, a little disappointed he wasn’t going to find out more. His face brightened again. “So, is Padfoot going to see me off too?”

Roger chuckled. “Kiddo, I don’t think he’d miss it for anything in the world. You only get one first day, after all.”

***

And like a flash, it was already August 30^th. Harry had all of his materials gathered the night before, but he still had to get up extra early – 4:30 in the morning – as they had to pick up Sirius from his flat, and make the three-hour drive to Seattle.

By the time the group reached University Street Station in Seattle, it was already after 8:30. At least Harry can take a nap on the train, Roger and Rhonda thought to themselves as they followed him inside the subway station. Sirius grabbed some bags and Hedwig’s cage, and placed them in a wagon for Harry to pull.

“Don’t worry, Hare, it’s a lot lighter than it looks,” Roger said encouragingly even though the wagon looked like it couldn’t hold a single item more.

“Got your ticket, pup?” Sirius asked Harry as they made their way to the apparently non-existent Cerulean Platform. Harry reached into his pocket and produced the same envelope Hedwig delivered a few weeks prior. Harry looked up at his godfather, grinning broadly as he nodded. Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder.

“So, according to the note, Cerulean is between Blue and Green,” Harry said from memory. “I think I have to go through some sort of portal, through that barrier,” he added, pointing at a white brick column that separated the Blue and Green platforms.

“Sounds a lot like Kings Cross Station,” replied Sirius. “The portals are timed there too. Say, what time is it, anyway?”

Rhonda looked at a clock on the wall behind her. “About ten after nine.”

“Well, you have almost an hour to find the Cerulean Platform,” Sirius told Harry. He squatted down and pointed and whispered to Harry as he pointed to the barrier. “You might want to try a bit of a jog… those portals are fickle, and you might hit brick if you don’t have enough momentum.”

“Sounds good, Padfoot,” Harry whispered back. He then embraced his godfather. “I’m going to miss you… thank you for being so awesome to me.”

“I love you, pup,” replied Sirius softly. “I never thought I’d ever leave Magical Britain, but I’m glad I did… nothing’s given me greater joy than to watch my godson grow up. You’re going to be a great wizard one day, Harry.”

Harry then gave Roger and Rhonda warm hugs. “I’m going to miss you both… I’ll write to all of you, I promise! I can’t wait to see you for the holidays!”

“Study hard, Harry,” Rhonda said. “You’re a smart boy, and that Anastasia girl sounds like she’s got a good head on her shoulders. And I’m sure she’ll be just one of many good friends.”

“Mind your professors,” added Roger. “And they’re always there to help. They want you to succeed more than anything.”

“And don’t forget to relax and have some fun,” said Sirius. “Learning spells and potions is only part of being a wizard… you need to make friends too!”

Harry nodded at the three adults. “I will,” he said simply. “I love all of you… Christmas seems so far away…” He began to sniffle a bit.

“It’ll be here before you know it, Hare,” Roger murmured. “We all love and will miss you too, but before you know it, you’ll be having too much fun with friends like Anastasia to worry about us.” He motioned toward the barrier with his head. “All right, off you go.”

Harry bit his lip, and dragged his little wagon behind him. He increased his pace to a slow jog, and when he thought he was going to hit solid brick, he felt nothing! He reached out with his hands, and felt nothing but air. He turned around, and didn’t see anyone he recognized, but in front of him was a sleek, streamlined subway train with about a dozen cars. He then looked directly above him – he finally found a brown wooden sign with deep sky blue letters: Cerulean Platform.

He breathed a sigh of relief – he had made it! “Come on, Hedwig,” he huffed as he made his way toward the train. He saw a handful of children lining up in the second car, so he decided to follow them as he didn’t know what he was doing. He pulled his wagon and waited his turn to be acknowledged. Finally, a Hispanic-looking man with a mustache in a blue uniform turned to Harry. “Name?” he asked in a clipped bark.

“Harry Potter,” replied Harry.

“Potter,” the man repeated in a soft voice. He then cleared his throat. “All right, do you have your ticket with you?” the man Harry thought must have been a conductor asked.

Harry reached into his pocket and produced the envelope Hedwig dropped off about three weeks prior. He then opened the envelope and then handed the conductor the ticket.

The conductor waved his wand across the ticket. Harry guessed it was to authenticate it, but who would forge something if this platform was so hard to find anyway? He nodded toward Harry. “Very good, Mister Potter. If you’ll just follow the students in front of you… also, first year students are assigned to the second-to-last car. You’ll have a bit of a walk I’m afraid.”

Harry nodded at the conductor. “Thanks.”

Harry followed the line of students, but took care to listen to the crew members as they called out each student’s year at the front of each assigned car. It took Harry a few minutes, but he exhaled in satisfaction when an elderly woman barked out “First years!” in a strong Jamaican dialect.

“I’m a first-year,” Harry told the crewperson. “I take it I can sit anywhere in this car then?”

The old Jamaican lady smiled and nodded at Harry. “First come, first serve.” She gestured toward several empty compartments.

Harry took the third compartment from the front… the train must be enchanted, for it looked a lot more spacious on the inside than it did from the outside. Harry found a locker, and after taking the cage containing Hedwig and a bag containing his formal robes out of his wagon, he placed the wagon inside the locker, and then took a moment to stretch his legs and relax.

Harry didn’t get much sleep the night before, so he settled himself in to take a bit of a nap. Even if these were just chairs, they were so plush and roomy that he could easily fall asleep on them, he thought to himself. He kicked off his sneakers and pushed his glasses to the top of his head, and got as comfortable as he could.

Before long, it was ten o’clock, and the train announced that the Cerulean Platform was closing, and the train would take off for the castle. Harry didn’t even pay any mind to the announcement – he was sawing logs anyway – and barely felt the jolt of the subway as it lurched forward, slowly but surely. The subway gradually picked up momentum, and within twenty minutes it had achieved optimal cruising speed.

Harry was in a peaceful slumber for a good couple of hours, but a sharp rapping jostled him awake. He immediately sat up, and saw a boy about his age, with a bowl cut of coppery-brown hair and soulful caramel-brown eyes standing by the entrance. He was slim, like Harry, but a couple of inches taller. He wore blue overalls and a simple white tee shirt, and seemed to walk with a bit of a pigeon-toed gait.

“Uh, hey there,” the boy said, scratching the nape of his neck. “I don’t s’pose you have room for one more?”

Harry gestured to the seat across from him. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks,” the other boy said. “So, are you new to this wizarding business too? I had no idea I, y’know, could do… magic until a few months ago.”

“Sorta,” replied Harry. “I have family members that are magical, but they don’t seem to like to talk about it a lot. I guess there’s a reason they don’t tell me much, but I still want to know something about my heritage.” He thrust his hand out. “I’m Harry, by the way. Harry Potter.”

The other boy grinned as he took Harry’s hand and shook it. “Well, I guess I don’t feel so left out, then.” He shrugged and murmured in a sheepish voice. “I kinda got a weird name; nobody seems to ever get it right.”

“Try me,” replied Harry.

“Othniel Beckett,” the boy replied. “My parents are devout Christians. They also gave my brother and sister Biblical names. Othniel means ‘favored by God’ in Hebrew or something.”

“Othniel,” Harry repeated softly. “I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone named Othniel before.” He smirked. “It’s different, but it’s kind of a cool name. I think I can remember Othniel.” Othniel just smiled at Harry in appreciation.

“My parents freaked out when they learned I qualified for Ilvermorny,” Othniel elaborated. “They thought I was possessed. One of the Ilvermorny professors came over to kind of explain everything, but they got into such a heated argument… I don’t really recall what happened after they started shouting at the professor. It’s like she snapped her fingers, and they forgot everything happened.”

“So, where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking?” inquired Harry. “I was born in the United Kingdom, but I grew up near Vancouver.”

“Vancouver, Washington or Vancouver in British Columbia?” asked Othniel.

“British Columbia,” clarified Harry.

“Gotcha,” replied Othniel. “I’m from Bend, Oregon.”

“Never been there,” chuckled Harry. “Do you like it there?”

“It’s all right, though probably a bit uptight for my liking,” said Othniel. “I hope the wizarding world is a bit more tolerant.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out,” agreed Harry.

Chapter 8: Arrival

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Harry and Othniel to feel comfortable with each other. Sounds of laughter filled the compartment, undoubtedly due to the myriad silly stories each boy had.

Othniel’s face flushed crimson as he had a particularly embarrassing yet amusing story to tell. “So last year, my older brother Gabriel dared me to run naked through this cornfield near our house… he said he’d give me five dollars for it.”

Harry chuckled. “So, did you do it?”

“Erm… yeah,” replied Othniel in a sheepish whisper. “Five dollars is a lot of money – for me at least!”

“Well, I guess some people would do anything for money,” replied Harry with a slight shrug.

“That’s not all there is to the story… when I emerged from the other side of the cornfield, Gabe and no fewer than ten of his friends were waiting on the other side. A couple of them were girls…” Othniel’s face turned so red that it looked like a very nasty sunburn. “They were laughing at me soooo bad, y’know… but at least Gabe was true to his word and gave me an Honest Abe for the effort.” He co*cked his head. “D’you think you’d do it for five dollars?”

“I’unno,” admitted Harry. He then grinned at his new friend. “I might…”

Othniel returned the grin. “My stomach’s rumbling a bit. Wanna go to the dining car and grab a bite – yowwww!” He yelped in surprise and pulled his right hand out of his overalls pocket. A rodent’s head then poked out and started sniffing the air. “Not literally, Ephraim!” He flicked the rat’s nose with his index finger in retaliation.

“Is that your pet that you’re taking to school?” Harry asked, pointing at the brown rat.

“Yeah! I found him near a gutter back at Nessel Rode a couple months ago. The list said I could choose a rat to take with me to Ilvermorny.” He smirked at Harry. “He sorta looks like an Ephraim, doesn’t he?”

Harry shrugged. “I s’pose so… and now that you mention it, I think I’m a little hungry too. Now, the dining car is toward the front of the train, so we have a bit of a jaunt…”

The boys made their way to the dining car, where a plump middle-aged hook-nosed witch showed the lads their seats. “Once you touch these enchanted napkins,” she instructed, “it will read your mind and serve you whatever you’d like to eat.”

“Cool!” the boys said together. As soon as the boys laid the fancy white calico napkins on their laps, a steamy hot plate of lasagna appeared for Harry, while Othniel got a big plate of chicken tenders and crinkle-cut French fries. Both boys’ glass goblets were automatically filled with a bright greenish-yellow liquid which neither boy recognized.

Othniel took a careful sip from the cup. “Hmm… it’s a little sweet, and rather tangy. Pretty good.” He then turned around to address a South Asian looking girl, perhaps a couple of years older than the boys, sitting at the table behind him. “Erm, ‘scuse me,” he said timidly. “D’you know what this drink is called?”

“Puckerberry juice,” the girl replied in a tone that made Othniel feel like he should have known that already.

“Thanks,” Othniel replied, before turning back to his meal.

Once the boys finished their meals, Harry suggested spending some time in the lounge car to play some games, to which Othniel agreed with gusto.

The boys spotted an air hockey table with an enchanted puck. Every time one of the paddles would strike the puck, it would screech out such colorful commentary such as, “Watch it, jerk!” or “Hit me like that again and I’ll barf on you!” Every time Harry or Othniel would score a goal, the other player would hear taunts of “LOOOOOOSER!” or “Nice save – naaaaaawt!” By the end of their second match, both boys were on the floor, howling with laughter.

After they recovered, they saw a group of five or six children of various ages sitting around a card table, playing some sort of game neither of them recognized. Their curiosity was piqued when they occasionally saw several hands reach out and try to slap a pile of cards.

Harry tapped a biracial boy with a short brownish-black Afro hairdo and thick co*ke-bottle glasses of about thirteen on the shoulder to see what they were playing. “Hey there… what game are you playing? Is it magical too, like that air hockey table?”

The boy turned to address Harry and Othniel. “Hey. We’re playing Egyptian Rat Screw… it’s a no-maj game, if you can believe it.” He shrugged. “If you want to watch for a bit, you can slap in whenever you feel comfortable… just watch for doubles!”

Harry and Othniel looked at each other and grinned. “Count us in,” said Harry.

The slightly older boy fist-bumped both Harry and Othniel, then nodded approvingly. “By the way, the name’s Mathis. Rickey Mathis. You’ll probably see me around if you like Quidditch – I’m the equipment manager.”

“Quidditch?” both boys asked with puzzled looks on their faces.

Rickey chuckled. “It’s a game on flying broomsticks… you’ll learn more about it soon enough.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I’m Harry Potter, and this is Othniel Beckett. We’re both first-year students, so you’ll have to forgive us if we don’t know a lot about how things at Ilvermorny work yet.”

Rickey chuckled. “Nice to meet you, Potter and Beckett. My advice – just follow the rules. You really don’t want to get caught by the school caretaker, Keith Floyd. He’s a huge man, like, he’s nearly seven feet tall and close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He’s a former auror for MACUSA… he’s dealt with some really dangerous rogue wizards before… you definitely don’t want to get on his bad side. If you get enough demerits, you’ll be serving detention with him… he’ll make it where you won’t want to mess up again!”

The younger boys looked at each other and shuddered.

Rickey smiled. “Don’t worry about that too much. We have a long train ride ahead, so just try and relax for the time being. And you’ll have plenty of fun at Ilvermorny, I promise.”

***

Harry and Othniel spent much of the next day and a half in the lounge playing enchanted air hockey and Egyptian Rat Screw. After lunch, Rickey reminded the younger boys to get changed into their formal robes as they would be at the castle in just a few hours.

At around three thirty in the afternoon, the train slowed down and came to a sudden halt. A loud voice rang out through each car: “Students are to remain in their cars until their year is called. A trustee will represent – look for an upperclassman wearing a silver sash. They will escort you to the castle momentarily.”

The same elderly Jamaican witch knocked on Harry and Othniel’s compartment. “You may leave your belongings in here – they will be waiting for you in your dormitory this evening. Until then, wait here until a trustee calls for first-years. Enjoy your feast this evening!” she said in a sweet lilt.

About ten minutes later, a clear soprano voice called out for first years. Harry and Othniel quickly clambered out of their compartment and out the subway car, and found themselves in a dimly-lit underground subway station. It looked different than the subway station in Seattle… like, it was far older as the technology was more primitive, and there were various eldritch symbols and runes carved into the walls.

Harry and Othniel saw a gaggle of students around their age clustered around a girl of about fifteen, standing on a small platform on the edge of the walkway. She was a slim girl of average height with her honey-blonde hair done up in what appeared to be a professionally-done French braid, and the light makeup on her face accentuated her pretty grey eyes. She wore a uniform similar to what the other first-year girls wore, except instead of knee socks and simple flats, she wore black opaque nylons and black patent lace-up brogues with three-inch block heels. Also, her sweater vest and necktie had teal and gold stripes, and she wore a silver sash diagonally across her torso that clearly spelled out "TRUSTEE". On top of her head was a teal beret with gold trim.

“First-year students, to me!” she called out in her high-pitched voice, containing just a hint of an Upper Midwestern accent. “Over here, first-years!” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she waited for all the wide-eyed firsties to congregate around her.

A couple of minutes later, a huge Black man approached the girl, who looked positively tiny next to the massive man. “Professor Goode is expecting ninety-four first-year students this term,” the big man said in a basso profundo. “Don’t forget to take a head-count before you escort them to the castle, Miss Ludwig. If even one student is unaccounted for, she’ll ream both our butts!”

“I have the list right here, Mister Floyd,” giggled the trustee. She turned again toward the crowd assembling in front of her. “First-years, to me!” She gave the eleven-year olds a couple more minutes to congregate before pulling out a rolled-up parchment from her robe pocket.

She cleared her throat before proceeding. Some of the students that already had some familiarity with magic assumed that she used a voice amplification charm, as her voice was exceptionally clear and loud, but her stance and facial expressions suggested she was otherwise using a normal speaking voice. “My name is Melissa Ludwig, but you may call me Missy or simply Ludwig if that’s easier. I am a fifth-year student and a trustee, as you can tell by my sash. Trustees are fifth, sixth, and seven-year students selected by their respective house heads based on academic prowess, integrity, and leadership skills. Although trustees are students first, there are certain privileges and responsibilities bestowed upon us. We are the eyes and ears of faculty when they are not present – as such, we can award house points for things such as persistence or doing good deeds; we can also dole out demerits for delinquent behavior.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Believe me, you’ll want to avoid receiving demerits… five demerits is an automatic detention, which usually means manual labor, often at inconvenient hours of the day.”

Some of the students winced at the ‘manual labor’ bit; mainly ones belonging to magical families as they were used to having at least a little magic help complete their chores.

Missy continued her spiel. “We have only a few minutes before we’re due at the castle, so without further ado, I want to make sure that everyone is present and accounted for. We have a very busy evening ahead of us. Please respond with something, such as ‘here’ or ‘present’ once your name is called.” She proceeded to read from the unfurled parchment. She read about eighty names before getting to “Slater, Tallulah.” She called out the student’s name three times, and was about to turn around to call for Floyd, when she heard a rather distressed-sounding high-pitched squeak come from the last train car. “Wait for meeeeeee!”

A short, somewhat stocky girl with curly auburn hair and chipmunk cheeks ran as fast as she could to join the rest of the first years. She had a panicked expression on her face – indeed, she appeared to be on the verge of tears. She was carrying a large grey tabby cat in her arms, and a black Mary Jane shoe was dangling from her pinky finger.

Missy arched an eyebrow, her arms akimbo. “Tallulah Slater, I presume?” she asked in a slightly annoyed tone.

“That’s me,” replied Tallulah as she slipped on her shoe as discreetly as she could. “Sorry,” she added with a sheepish squeak. “Gallifrey was being a very naughty kitty, you see.”

Missy shook her head with exasperation, and continued to call out the rest of the names on the list. All ninety-four first years present and accounted for, she thought to herself in satisfaction. “All right, listen up everyone,” she said, addressing her charges. “If you’ll follow me, we’ve got a bit of a hike to the castle.”

Harry and Othniel followed along with the other ninety-two first years. They had to traverse a dark stairwell with at least five hundred stairs, but to the students’ relief, the more progress they made, the lighter it became. It soon became apparent that they were several hundred feet underground, and the light they were seeing was sunlight – the late afternoon sun was a real treat after being cooped up in underground train for two days straight.

“Goodness, that girl can walk fast in heels,” Othniel grunted to Harry, who nodded in agreement. They traversed through an evergreen forest – the firs and pines were well over a hundred feet tall. When they emerged from the other side of the woods, they found themselves on the climb yet again. They looked down, and several hundred feet below them were the tops of evergreen trees. The beaten trail turned to rock, and once again the students found themselves traversing a long staircase, though these stairs appear to be made from rough-hewn rock, giving it a more rustic appearance.

“We are ascending Mount Greylock,” explained Missy as she led the firsties uphill. “It is the highest natural point in the state of Massachusetts, and is the very place that Ilvermorny has called home for over three centuries.”

Five minutes later, Missy came to a complete halt. Although the firsties were struggling to catch their breath, she looked as fresh as ever. She addressed the eleven year olds again. “You are about to take your first steps inside the greatest institution of learning witchcraft and wizardry has ever known. You are but mere boys and girls now, but when you finish, you’ll truly be witches and wizards. You are about to undergo a sacred rite of initiation… the sorting ceremony. Professor Goode will elaborate momentarily.”

She led the students through a huge wooden double-door – the double-door itself could swallow a whole house, thought Harry. The students found themselves in an enormous antechamber, with marble flooring, numerous spiral staircases and passageways, and countless paintings and sculptures, both grotesque and beautiful.

“Wait here,” Missy commanded. “Professor Goode will fetch you shortly, and take you to the Sorting Chamber. Out of respect to the faculty and those who have come before you, silence would be most appreciated.” She did an about-face, and the only sound that could be heard was the fading clicking of Missy’s high heels as she left the antechamber.

Chapter 9: A Different Sort of Sorting

Chapter Text

The gaggle of nearly one hundred first-year students waited nervously in the antechamber. Some of the students took these precious few moments to straighten themselves up and look as presentable as possible in front of the deputy headmistress; Harry even tapped Othniel on the shoulder. “Psst, Othniel,” he whispered as softly as he was able. “Your bowtie’s a little crooked.”

“Huh?” Othniel whispered back. He gave his friend a puzzled look. “Erm, I can’t exactly see it, Harry. Would you mind giving me a hand?” Harry grinned and nodded, and deftly adjusted Othniel’s bowtie. Othniel breathed a quick word of gratitude, and the two friends fist-bumped each other.

Just a minute or so later, the students heard the clacking of heels on the marble floor approaching them. The figure that approached them was definitely not Missy – she was much taller; probably six foot two or even three in her navy suede four inch pumps, and her bushy, wild red hair seemed to wave about like a roaring bonfire. She was certainly still a young witch, not much older than twenty five or so, and she had a very girlish countenance, no doubt accentuated by the countless freckles on her face, though there was nothing youthful about the impeccably-tailored and pressed grey pantsuit she wore. This was no doubt Professor Goode; needless to say her entrance was quite different than many of the children expected.

She came to a halt in front of the center of the group, and clasped her hands together before greeting the youngsters. “Welcome to Ilvermorny,” she said in a cheerful tone. “Today is the day you will all take your first steps into a larger world.” With these simple words, she had managed to capture the undivided attention of every single student – no magic needed. A small number of students – no doubt scions of Old Money families – snickered into their sleeves or rolled their eyes.

She co*cked her head to one side, and addressed the disrespectful students. “Gentlemen, do you find me…amusing?”

When she got no reply, she simply nodded. “Trust me, I can show you amusing.” She tapped the side of her nose with her right index finger, and she transformed into a massive, orange-furred orangutan. She reached out toward two of the boys who mocked her with long, furry arms and appeared to be ready to lift them up by their throats, but at the last second, she stepped back as she reverted to her human form.

The boys both broke out in a sweat, while some of the other students tried to stifle their own laughter.

Professor Goode gave the students a moment to settle down before she continued with her spiel. “Now, as Miss Ludwig most likely alluded to earlier, we have a full plate this evening… no pun intended. Before we commence the Start of Term Feast, we must have each of you sorted into one of four houses: Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Wampus. Each of these four houses represents an integral part of any witch or wizard. The Horned Serpents represent the mind, Pukwudgie represents the heart, Thunderbird represents the soul, and Wampus represents the body.”

She paused for the briefest of moments, looking at her wide-eyed charges to make sure they were following. “Please be advised that once you are sorted, the decision is final; the house in which you will be sorted will serve as a sort of surrogate family for the next seven years. And you will do well to note that you are an Ilvermorny student before you are a Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, or Wampus. In other words, do not hesitate to reach out to students of other houses; after all, a witch or wizard cannot exist without a heart, a soul, a body, or a mind.”

She gestured to the doorway behind her. “If you’ll kindly follow me to the Sorting Chamber, we’ll get started without any further ado.” As she led the students into the Sorting Chamber, several of the children gasped in awe at the sheer size of the room. Architecturally, it was far blander than the antechamber, with only four wooden totems serving as decorations, but many of the students got the feeling that there was far more to this chamber than met the eye. The high-arching ceiling was capped by a glass cupola, and there were multiple levels of balconies that encircled the hall. Quite a few first-years felt lumps form in their throats as they saw hundreds upon hundreds of returning students watching from the balconies – indeed, the entire school, faculty and students alike, assembled to witness the latest sorting ceremony. Little Tallulah’s face blanched with terror – she was beginning to have second thoughts and was wondering if it was too late to go back home and return to her old non-magical school.

Something – or more accurately – someone caught Harry’s eye. From the uppermost balcony, he saw a familiar button-nosed face. Anastasia, he mouthed as he smiled and waved to his friend. Ana, who saw Harry smile and wave at her, returned the friendly gesture. She definitely looked different in her uniform, thought Harry. She looked, well, beautiful in her robes, teal and gold sweater vest and necktie. And her wavy hairdo was long gone… this time her lovely russet hair looked particularly sleek and shiny, hanging down in loose curls.

“Who’s that?” Othniel asked Harry in a hushed tone.

“Oh, that’s my friend Ana. Anastasia Harrison. She’s a second-year student. We met at Nessel Rode about a month ago,” Harry whispered back. “She’s a really cool girl. I hope we’re housemates.”

“Right on,” replied Othniel.

At that moment, Professor Goode turned around to address the firsties. “I need all of you to stand behind that black line.” She gestured toward a large black circular line, which corresponded with the circumference of the cupola. She then reached into her jacket pocket, and produced a parchment. “When your name is called, you will come forth and stand at the center of the floor. The center is marked with the legendary Gordian Knot; which according to tradition, is impossible to undo.”

She pointed at the etched symbol so that there would be no doubt as to where each student should stand when called. “When you stand on the knot, one of these four totems will activate. Whichever totem activates, is the house you will belong to, henceforth. In the rare event that two or more houses activate, you are allowed to choose between them. I wish you all the best of luck.”

She then began reading from the list.

“Abercrombie, Gina.”

A tall, slender girl with short black hair and big brown eyes stepped forth with trepidation. She gulped as she stepped on the knot. A few seconds later, the Wampus cat pounced, and Gina ran upstairs to join her new Wampus housemates.

A few minutes later, Professor Goode read a familiar name:

“Beckett, Othniel.”

“We’ll be buds no matter where we end up,” Harry assured Othniel. Othniel gave Harry a bit of a nervous smile before stepping on to the knot. The wait wasn’t long, as the gem in the Horned Serpent’s forehead began to glow.

Harry gave Othniel a thumbs-up, who returned the gesture as he hurried upstairs to greet his new housemates.

About an hour later, it was finally Harry’s turn:

“Potter, Harry.”

Harry took a few methodical steps toward the center of the room; but suddenly he began to feel the pressure build up. He was so nervous that he even started to feel a little dizzy. He then looked up at Ana and Othniel, who both smiled broadly and waved heartily to him. He could practically read the words on their lips – you got this, Harry!

He pressed on, and took the last few steps to the center of the room. Harry was not at all prepared for his fate. The Thunderbird totem began to beat its wings, then the Pukwudgie totem fired its arrow, then the Wampus pounced, and finally the Horned Serpent gem glowed!

Professor Goode’s jaw dropped. “Young man,” she said, clearly surprised. “Having two houses react is a rare feat in and of itself, but having all four houses react is all but unheard of – it happens, at most, once per generation. You must be a special wizard indeed, Mister Potter.”

Harry smirked – even though he could select literally any house, there was just one choice for him. “I’d like to be a Horned Serpent, ma’am.”

Professor Goode smiled and nodded at Harry. “Excellent choice, young man. The Horned Serpents are very lucky to have you among their prestigious ranks.” Harry bolted upstairs, where he high-fived both Othniel and Ana.

It wasn’t too much later before she called out little Tallulah:

“Slater, Tallulah.”

The girl practically seized with fear, and some of the students thought that someone would have to physically drag her to the center of the floor. She then clutched the jade amulet that she was wearing, whispered the etched inscription to herself, and proceeded to make her way to the middle of the floor.

The Horned Serpent gem once again glowed. Harry, Ana, and Othniel all cheered especially hard for the timid little girl. Ana even gave her a tender, welcoming embrace. For Tallulah, Ana’s hug was a magic unto itself, as she felt her fears and worries slowly beginning to melt away.

Perhaps a half hour later, the ceremony had wrapped up. Harry, Othniel, Ana, and Tallulah all stood together, waiting to be escorted to the mess hall for the Start of Term feast. Their wait wasn’t long, when they heard a familiar soprano call out:

“Horned Serpents! Follow me to the Mess Hall,” Missy said. “For the Start of Term feast, you must take your seat at the Horned Serpent table, no exceptions!”

She led her house down several winding staircases and through several narrow corridors before leading them to an elongated room at the opposite end of the castle. “First years,” she explained, “this is the mess hall, where you will eat all your meals. Most meals you can sit wherever you like, but for certain events, such as the Start of Term feast, sitting with your housemates is mandatory. You may however sit wherever you’d like at your own table – the Horned Serpents sit at the table at the far left.”

Harry and Othniel sat next to each other, while Ana and Tallulah sat across from the boys.

“Wow, Anastasia,” Harry stammered as he was trying to muster the courage to say something nice to his friend. “You, erm, you look really pretty today.”

Ana’s cheeks turned a rosy pink. “You’re just saying that, Harry,” she said with a nervous giggle.

“I mean it, you really look nice. I like what you’ve done with your hair,” Harry added with sincerity.

“Well, you look rather handsome yourself, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Ana replied.

Othniel groaned. “Okay, that’s enough, you lovebirds…”

Their conversation was interrupted by a very loud and deep grumble. Mister Floyd, the caretaker, patrolled the mess hall and didn’t need an amplification charm to enhance his naturally intimidating voice. “Everybody take a seat,” he boomed. “We will begin our feast momentarily, but our headmaster has something he would like to say first. Professor Fontaine?”

Professor Fontaine, who was seated amongst the faculty on a dais towards the front of the mess hall, rose from his seat to address the throngs of students.

“It is my pleasure to kick off yet another academic term… let’s give our newly-sorted first year students a warm welcome, first and foremost.” He paused to let the rest of the mess haul politely applaud the incoming crop of students. “I would also like to introduce our newest faculty member, Professor Remus Lupin, a graduate of the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry. He’s replacing our longtime Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor, Professor Russell Whitten, who has taught several subjects at our school for over forty years. Suffice to say, I believe his retirement is well-earned.”

A brown-haired man with a short, grizzled beard stood up to be recognized. Unlike some of the ornate or brightly-colored finery many of the faculty wore, Professor Lupin’s outfit was quite drab – just simple brown robes.

“I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something familiar about that man,” Harry whispered to his friends. “He looks about the same age as my godfather and my uncle; and Professor Fontaine said he went to Hogwarts. If I had to guess, they both know him.”

“Are you serious?” Ana whispered back.

“No, that’s my godfather,” Harry replied without skipping a beat. “I’ve never formally met this Professor Lupin guy… but there’s just something about him… like, I’m supposed to know him, or something.”

“Is it a good feeling, or a bad feeling you’re getting?” Othniel inquired.

“Good feeling, I think,” replied Harry. “I can’t really explain…”

“Maybe it’s more than mere coincidence that he accepted the teaching position here,” mused Ana. “Perhaps you’re right… maybe he came here because he wants to get to know you.” Harry simply shrugged in response.

Professor Fontaine continued his speech. “For our first-year students, there is a comprehensive list of areas on school property that are considered off-limits to those who do not have explicit permission. A copy of the list will be visible in the common room of each of the four houses; you may ask a trustee or Mister Floyd if you’re unsure about anything.”

“We can actually ask the caretaker questions?” Othniel asked with genuine surprise. “He just looks so, erm, tough.”

Ana giggled. “As long as you follow the rules, Mister Floyd’s actually a really nice guy. He’s also someone you want to have in your corner if you’re ever in a bind. Oh, some time you should ask him about his days as an auror – he’s got lots of cool stories!”

The headmaster clapped his hands twice. “One last thing before we begin this most sumptuous banquet… everyone please stand and join me for the Ilvermorny school song.” He produced a long, black wand, and he began to wave it rather like an orchestra conductor:

We stand as one united,
Against the Puritan.
We draw our inspiration
From good witch Morrigan.

For she was persecuted
By common wandless men.
So she fled from distant Ireland,
And so our school began.

Oh! Ilvermorny-Massachusetts!
We choo-choose it!
We choo-choose it!
The wizard school supreme.

Your castle walls, they kept us safe.
The days with you, a dream
You taught us all our magic
And now one thing's quite clear

Where'er we roam
Where'er we roam
Our one true home
Our one and own

Is Ilvermorny dear!”

Ana immediately stood to her feet and began singing in a lovely mezzo-soprano; Harry and Othniel just stood with their hands over their hearts and just hummed along as they weren’t yet familiar with the song. When the song had finished, Professor Fontaine put his wand away and once again addressed everyone in the mess hall. “You may now take your seats… and let the feast commence!” With a quick wave of his hand, a smorgasbord of entrees, fruits, vegetables, rolls, desserts and drinks instantly appeared on each of the four tables.

Chapter 10: The Horned Serpent Common Room

Chapter Text

There was so much food on the table that Harry couldn’t even decide where to begin! There were no fewer than eight kinds of potatoes – not even including a pleasantly-piquant potato salad; not to mention the entrees looked positively delectable: roast duck and quail, honey-glazed ham, prime rib, country-fried steak, teriyaki salmon... Harry thought maybe it would be best to sample a little bit of everything, so he grabbed small pieces of meat from as many plates as he could.

He found all the meats quite satisfying, but the prime rib was exceptionally juicy… he’d have to get more of that the next time they had such a luxurious banquet. He was about to grab a forkful of Caesar salad when he spied a strange pair of eyes, about halfway down the table, just looking him over. A sense of uneasiness hit Harry, and he set down his fork.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Ana asked with a note of concern in her voice.

“Ahh… nothing,” answered Harry. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was…”

Ana’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure? You haven’t eaten all that much yet… we won’t have another feast like this until Halloween!”

Harry sighed, and forced the bit of salad in his mouth. He continued his dinner, though at a slower rate than before. Again, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched. He again looked down the table, and saw a girl of about thirteen or fourteen just glaring at him. Other than her disapproving expression, she was an otherwise attractive girl, with her dark blonde hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail, and behind a pair of smart, oval spectacles were lovely sky-blue eyes. Well, thought Harry, at least they’d be lovely if she didn’t look like she wanted to curse me.

“Harry,” Ana prodded again gently. “Something’s clearly bothering you. Is it anything I can help you with?”

Harry sighed and pointed down the table with his head. “It’s this girl, she’s a little older than I am, I think. She keeps giving me these weird looks. She’s the one with the dirty blonde ponytail and glasses with oval lenses. Who is she?”

“That’s Nova,” replied Ana. “She’s a third-year. Like you, she’s British by birth, but she actually speaks the Queen’s English. She was a reserve chaser last year for the Horned Serpent quidditch team.”

Harry nodded. “So you know her then. Is she a friend of yours?”

“We’re friends of sorts,” admitted Ana. “She’s cool; we get along fine and everything, though we’re not super close.”

“Why does she look at me like she hates me? I don’t know her; I don’t know what I’ve even done!” Harry grumbled.

Ana giggled. “Don’t worry about it too much, Harry. She’s not a mean person, honest. But if she really bothers you, I s’pose I can talk to her tonight and see what her deal is.”

Harry’s face brightened. “You’d do that?”

“Of course I would, silly,” replied Ana with a slight shrug. She then burst into giggles. “Your friend Othniel… his table manners are rather gauche, aren’t they?” They both saw Othniel shoving spoonful after spoonful of pudding into his mouth, scarcely taking the time to chew or even breathe. His fingers were stained yellow due to the numerous helpings of corn on the cob.

“What?!” Othniel yelped.

***

At about eight thirty, all students were dismissed from their tables and were instructed to follow their respective houses’ trustees to their dormitories. “This way, Horned Serpents," Missy called out as she directed her charges out of the mess hall. “First-years, stay close.” Harry, Othniel, Ana and Tallulah followed Missy through several rather claustrophobic corridors, each less brightly lit than the one before it. The last corridor was the eeriest of all, as the oil paintings and sculptures didn’t seem to be completely still.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Tallulah whispered. She couldn’t help but shudder as she traversed the lengthy passageway.

“I know what you mean,” Harry said. “I kind of feel like we’re being watched.”

There was a widening, rather like a cul-de-sac, at the end of the passageway. A huge stone circular platform took up the entirety of the cul-de-sac, with the exception of a very long shaft in the exact center of it.

“Is that some sort of elevator?” Othniel asked Ana, eyes as big as saucers.

Ana nodded. “You’ll see.”

“I need everybody on the circular platform,” Missy said. “Gather close as there isn’t a lot of room.” Once all the Horned Serpents had clustered together, Missy clicked one of her high heels on the platform twice. A disembodied female voice then asked some sort of a riddle.

“What grows down while it grows up?”

Missy didn’t bat an eye. “A bird.”

A split second later, there was a deep rumbling, grinding sound, and the platform began to slowly rise. The no-maj born children began to realize that they were on a magical elevator; as there were no pulleys or counterweights, it must have operated strictly by magical means as opposed to mechanical ones. The platform continued to go up, up, and up some more – perhaps a hundred and eighty feet – before they heard the same grinding sound, and the lift came to a complete stop.

“Welcome to the Horned Serpent common room,” explained Missy as the gaggle of students disembarked. The common room was surprisingly spacious, as there were dozens of couches and plush armchairs. There were several floor-to-ceiling bookshelves spaced throughout the octangular room, as well as numerous large windows to provide plenty of natural lighting. There was even a stone fireplace in the far corner – certainly a cozy spot to relax on a cold day.

Missy continued her speech. “The west corridor leads to the boys’ dormitories, and the east corridor leads to the girls’ dormitories. At ten o’clock, students are restricted to their respective dormitory areas, and reveille is at six in the morning. Every weekday, unless stated otherwise, you are to meet on the training grounds at six fifteen for moderate physical exercise – we will be running tomorrow, and we will perform calisthenics the day after. These activities alternate every other day. You have fifteen minutes to be in uniform and be in formation, so I implore you to not dilly-dally. Unexcused tardiness can earn you a demerit. You’ve been duly warned.”

“Training grounds?” Harry asked Ana.

“It’s a big field across from the quidditch pitch. It doesn’t take too long to get there. Just follow all the other students,” Ana clarified. “And fifteen minutes is plenty of time. It doesn’t take much more than five or six minutes.”

“So, Ana,” Othniel asked. “D’you wanna play Egyptian Rat Screw? Harry and I played it on the Chinook… it’s a really fun no-maj game.”

Ana giggled. “As luck would have it, I brought some enchanted playing cards with me… they shuffle and deal themselves!” She turned and smiled sweetly at Tallulah. “Would you like to play?”

Tallulah shrugged. “Sure, I guess… I’ve never really played before… will you teach me?”

Ana’s smile broadened. “I’d be happy to… I’ll deal you in, and I’ll guide you along the way until you’re comfortable. How’s that sound?”

Tallulah returned the smile. “Brilliant. Thank you, Ana.”

It wasn’t long before the four children were on the floor, laughing. “I can’t believe you slapped a six and a nine, Othniel,” howled Harry.

“A six is an upside-down nine, you know,” countered Othniel. “So ‘scuse me for being a little too trigger happy there.”

Suddenly, a tall blonde girl of thirteen or fourteen approached the four children. Harry turned around and realized that it was the same bespectacled girl that gave him the scowl at the dinner table an hour or so earlier; this time, her lips were pursed so tightly that if they could be any tighter, they would create a vacuum. Nova, Harry thought. Now that she was right in front of him, he got a much better view of her features. She had a distinctly-curved nose, and a tiny black mole just above her upper lip. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, and tapped one of her black Mary Jane shoes on the floor.

She cleared her throat. “You’ve got some stones to choose the Horned Serpents, Potter,” she said in a posh Received Pronunciation accent. Though Harry did detect a note of bitterness in her voice, it wasn’t entirely malicious. “You’ve got a lot to live up to, being the Boy-Who-Lived and all. You better not disappoint.” With that, she whirled back just as quickly, before Harry could say a word. He noticed that she had rather unusually-shaped teeth; they only slightly took away from her otherwise lovely features.

“Boy-Who-Lived?” Othniel and Tallulah exclaimed in unison.

Harry sighed. “Back in magical England, I apparently survived some sort of a lethal curse cast by a really dark wizard. Before dying himself, he took my parents with him… I don’t really know all the details because the only magical adults I’ve ever known wouldn’t ever tell me the whole story. Shoot, I don’t even know the name of the dark sorcerer! All I know is that he left his mark on me…” He brushed a strand of his dark hair back to show his friends the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

“Gnarly scar,” said Othniel. “I almost wish I had one like that… almost .”

“That’s… awful,” Tallulah offered. “I’m so sorry he killed your parents.”

“That might explain why you were wanted by all four houses,” surmised Ana. “You beat the odds and survived something that should have killed you… I’m beginning to think that you aren’t just any wizard, Harry.”

“There’s nothing special about me,” Harry insisted. “I’m just Harry. Harry Potter from Surrey.”

“And I promise we like you because you’re a sweet boy from Surrey,” Ana replied with candor. “But what if there is more to this Boy-Who-Lived business besides surviving a horrific curse?”

“I’unno,” sighed Harry. “It’s… not something I really want to think about right now. I just want to worry about my classes, avoiding demerits, and just spending some time with my friends.”

Ana’s hazel eyes locked on to Harry’s emerald ones. “You’re absolutely right, Harry. And for right now, that’s all you should worry about.”

“So… your friend Nova… that’s kind of an unusual name,” Harry said, trying to change the subject. “Is that short for something, or a nickname perhaps?”

“It’s short for November,” replied Ana. “Her birthday is November the first. Her real first name is Anneliese, but she despises being called that.”

“What’s her last name?” Harry asked.

“Woodward,” replied Ana.

Harry suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“What’s wrong, Harry? You’re kind of spacing out again,” Ana said in the same concerned voice she used at dinner earlier that evening.

Harry hung his head. “My aunt and uncle… their last name is Woodward. They aren’t my actual aunt and uncle, mind you… they’re officially my guardians, but to me they’ll always be my aunt and uncle. I think my parents would have approved of the way they raised me… I always felt safe, and I never felt unloved.”

Othniel moved his index finger back-and-forth. “Wait… so are you thinking… this Nova girl is related to your aunt and uncle? D’you think you might want to ask her?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not sure… but I can’t help but wonder. I mean, they’ve never told me they had any other children…” He hung his head. “She’s been acting rather standoffish to me all evening, so I don’t know how receptive she’ll be. I get the feeling she just wants to have her space.”

“She’s not a mean person, Harry,” Ana said. “I promise. She may seem aloof now, but I’m sure she’ll warm up to you eventually.” She smiled warmly. “Like I said, I can try and talk to her after we head to our respective dorms. She might not be comfortable talking about it, but I can at least try.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

“So, if she’s British, why did she choose Ilvermorny?” Tallulah squeaked. “I thought a student had to live in North America to be accepted here.”

Ana shrugged. “She never said exactly why , but I remember her mentioning that she was allowed the choice to attend either Hogwarts or Ilvermorny. It could be that Hogwarts is slightly more expensive, but that’s just speculation. The true reason is hers, and hers alone… I don’t feel like it’s my business to pry.”

“I get it,” Harry said. “And I really appreciate you going up to bat for me like that, Ana. I just don’t like being hated for no reason. I didn’t do anything, and I don’t even know her!”

Ana smiled sweetly. “You’re welcome, Harry. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think she hates you.”

Harry returned the smile.

Chapter 11: First Day of School

Chapter Text

Harry and Othniel retired to their dormitory a short while later, and to their relief, found all their belongings tucked neatly away next to luxurious four-poster beds. The room was approximately a square in shape, with three doors – one leading to the main hallway, one leading to another bedroom much like theirs, and finally a luxurious-looking latrine. The wash area had four basins – each sink had a hand towel embroidered with a student’s initials – plus there were four personal commodes and individual shower stalls.

As the boys began unpacking and getting ready to settle in for the evening, Harry spotted an olive-complected boy with close-cropped black hair, already in his pajamas, sitting on his four poster with several playing cards laid out in front of him.

“Hey there,” Harry greeted the other boy. “What are you playing, out of curiosity?”

The boy shrugged before addressing Harry. “Wizard’s Solitaire. The face cards can give you advice on what moves to make, though you might want to think twice because they have a bit of a reputation for tricking you.” He then reached out with his right hand. “I’m Quentin Lugo. I’m from Colorado… I’m not the only magical person in my family, but I am the first to attend Ilvermorny. Most of my magical family members studied magic in Europe or Latin America.”

“I’m Harry Potter, and this is my friend Othniel Beckett,” replied Harry. “Nice to meet you, Quentin. I can relate… I’m the first in my family to study at Ilvermorny as well. My magical family members have studied in Great Britain.” He co*cked his head. “So I take it that you’re of Spanish descent?”

Quentin nodded. “Por supuesto,” he trilled in perfect Spanish. “My family’s lived in southern Colorado and northern New Mexico for generations, but our heritage is Spanish, not Mexican. There are similarities between the two cultures, but they have some major differences too.” He smirked. “I also have a fair bit of French, Apache, and Basque blood in me too.”

“That’s cool,” Harry replied. “I’m English, with a smidge of Irish and Welsh on my mother’s side. I was born in the United Kingdom, but I grew up near Vancouver in British Columbia.” He gestured toward the playing cards on Quentin’s bed. “So… d’you mind if we watch you play? I don’t think I’ve ever played regular solitaire, let alone Wizard’s Solitaire.”

“I don’t mind,” murmured Quentin as he continued to play his game. He laid down the jack of diamonds on top of the queen of spades. “Mmmph! Watch it¸ you insolent knave!” shrieked the queen. “I thought about telling you where you could find the ace of clubs, but you’re on your own!”

After a few minutes, Quentin made all the plays he could, and slammed his cards down in frustration. “That’s it, I give up,” he groaned.

“You give up? What about us?” grumbled the king of hearts. “Maybe the next game will be played by someone competent!” Quentin shrugged, then put his cards up for the evening.

“So, who’s our other roommate?” Othniel asked. “Have you met him yet?”

“Yeah,” replied Quentin. “Some Swedish meatball named Jeremy Dahlgren. He’s still in the common room catching up with his older brother. He probably won’t be back until lights-out.”

“I’m sure that’s nice, having a sibling to talk to,” Harry said quietly. “I’m an only child, and Othniel’s siblings aren’t magical, so we just have each other so far.”

“My older sister Francesca goes to Beauxbatons in France, if you can believe it,” admitted Quentin. “She’s fluent in French and Spanish so it wasn’t hard for her to transition. She’s told me that their headmistress has some giant blood in her… like, she’s twice as tall as Mister Floyd, and he’s a big guy in his own right!”

Harry and Othniel looked at each other in awe – they found it hard to believe someone would literally be twice as big as Ilvermorny’s caretaker – even in the magical world!

***

Ten o’clock finally rolled around, as they heard a male trustee's voice holler from down the hallway. “Light’s out! Boys are to remain in the dormitory area until reveille!”

Harry, Othniel, Quentin and Jeremy’s room immediately darkened, with only a couple of small strategically-placed magical candles providing any illumination until morning. It was a long day for all the students, so it was but a few minutes before they drifted off to sleep.

At six o’clock sharp, the boys heard the sharp, distinct tooting of a bugle call from the hallway, followed by an equally sharp holler. “Everybody get up and get dressed in their workout uniforms! You must report to the training grounds by no later than six fifteen! Hustle, hustle, hustle!” It wasn’t long before the sounds of zippers, drawers, and shuffling feet filled the dormitory area, along with occasional calls to get lethargic roommates on the move.

Harry quickly jolted out of bed and found a privacy blind in which to change into his tee shirt, shorts, and trainers. He noticed that they now had the distinct colors of the Horned Serpent house this time, so he assumed that his daily uniform would have the same teal and gold motif as well.

He then spied Othniel, still laying in bed, with a small amount of drool on his pillow.

“Othniel!” Harry yelped. “We’ve got like ten minutes to get to the field! You gotta get up and get moving, or we’re going to get a demerit!”

“Ugggh,” replied Othniel, clearly not interested in budging.

Harry darted over to Othniel and began to shake him up. “I’m not going to let you get the rest of us in trouble! Now get up and get changed, we’re practically running behind! Quentin and Jeremy just left the tower, so we gotta move!”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Othniel said in a groggy voice. He stifled a yawn, and shuffled to his privacy screen to change. Harry rolled his eyes as Othniel seemed to move with no particular urgency. Othniel double-tied his trainers… he was tempted to triple-tie them but Harry grabbed him by the wrist. “C’mon, Othniel! I don’t want to get a demerit on our first day!” He sprinted down the corridor, with Othniel just behind him. They made it to the magic lift, but neither Harry nor Othniel remembered how to activate it.

“Cripes, we’re gonna be late,” Harry said, giving Othniel a bit of a glare.

To their relief, they saw the familiar face of Missy Ludwig, who was escorting a handful of girls to the field, including Tallulah. Again, she had a trainer in one hand as she jogged toward the lift. Her face immediately lit up when she saw her two new friends.

“Good morning, Harry! Good morning, Othniel!” she chirped in a cheery tone. “Gallifrey is a naughty kitty… he loves to play with my shoes for some reason! I wouldn’t be cutting things so close if he wasn’t such a stinker!”

“Glad to know we’re not the only ones cutting it close,” Othniel chuckled. “Harry practically had to drag me out of the dorms this morning…”

Missy then stepped on to the platform, between Tallulah and Harry. She was in her workout uniform as well, along with her trustee sash. Instead of an intricate braid, she put her hair up in a tidy ponytail.

Harry tapped the freshly-minted trustee on the shoulder. “Erm, scuse me, Missy… I forgot how to activate this device. Could you show me again?”

Missy smiled and nodded at Harry. “Of course. It’s a bit tricky, but after a few times, you’ll get the hang of it. You just sort of gently stomp on the platform twice, like so…” She then proceeded to demonstrate how to activate the lift with her foot.

The same female disembodied voice as the night before presented another riddle. “What sort of room has no windows, no walls, nor doors?”

Missy did not hesitate for a moment. “A mushroom.” As soon as she answered correctly, the stone lift activated again, and about thirty seconds later, the lift came to a complete stop at the bottom of the tower.

“Wow, you sure are smart,” Othniel complemented Missy. “It’s like you don’t even have to think to answer those!”

Missy giggled. “Well, thank you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m bright and I study hard, but you’ll find that Old Margie doesn’t have countless riddles… sooner or later, you’ll learn to memorize them.” She winked. “But that’s something we don’t like to tell the other houses, so that’s just between us, all right?”

Othniel nodded. “Sounds good to me!” His cheeks then turned a rosy pink. “Umm.. you’re really pretty, you know…” Harry chucked Othniel in the arm. “Oof!”

Missy just smiled apologetically at the boy. “Thank you for the very nice compliment, but I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate me flirting around – not even with an innocent little firstie.” She then flashed a lovely smile. “Don’t worry too much about it right now. I’m sure you’ll find an attractive witch when the time comes.”

***

Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah were astonished at how quick and easy it was to reach the training grounds, despite the fair physical distance between the field and the castle. If Missy led them through any shortcuts, they were completely oblivious to them.

“I think I see our housemates,” Tallulah said, pointing at a group of students in various positions getting limbered up. She picked up her pace and trotted off toward the gaggle of Horned Serpents. Harry and Othniel followed Tallulah to the opposite side of the field, and just as Harry began to sit down to stretch, he heard someone call out for him.

“Good morning, Harry!”

Harry looked over his shoulder, and saw a familiar russet-haired girl grinning at him.

“Ana! Good morning! How’s it going?”

Ana shrugged. Like Missy, she also tied her hair back, but instead of a silky-smooth golden ponytail, Ana’s was more like a russet-colored, frizzy ball of fluff. Harry tried to stifle a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” asked Ana, co*cking her eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing really,” replied Harry. “Your hair… is it usually that poofy in the morning?”

Ana groaned. “Don’t get started on that, Harry. Thank goodness I’ve learned a couple of charms which makes taming my hair a little easier, but before coming to Ilvermorny it took forever to get my hair to be merely wavy!”

Harry cleared his throat before attempting to change the subject. “So, did you talk to Nova last night?”

Ana shook her head. “I tried, Harry, but she didn’t feel very comfortable talking about it.” She gave Harry a small smile. “She did admit that she has some issues indirectly concerning you, but again she refused to say exactly what they were. You can also take heart in knowing that she flat-out said that she doesn’t hate you.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Harry said with some disappointment in his voice as he tried to stretch out his calf muscles. “I guess all I can do is give her plenty of clearance because I don’t want the slightest little thing to cause her to blow up.”

“And there may well come a time when she wants to get things off her chest, and she’s going to approach you and want to talk things out,” reasoned Ana. “She’s not the kind of person to just ‘blow up’ over trivial things. She has no interest in being your enemy. She’s got a level head and a kind heart. She just needs time to figure things out on her own is all.”

TWEEEEEET!

Harry and Ana turned to see Missy standing on a box with a silver whistle dangling from her neck. “Form up, Horned Serpents! Everybody make twelve lines behind the baseline – we’re going to start off with sprints!” Some of the returning students grumbled in dismay as they jogged their way behind a bright white stripe that ran the length of the field.

When everyone lined up to Missy’s satisfaction, she addressed her charges again. “I see some of you are still in a summer break mindset. How about a little more hustle next time? If you want to lollygag, we can continue our physical training into your breakfast hour.”

Most of the students stood in silence, but a tall, burly fourth year student named Chuckie Siemens scoffed. “She can’t do that – we’re guaranteed time to clean up and have breakfast,” he said to a couple of his companions, who appeared equally agitated.

A second-year Korean-American student, Madeline Kim, raised her hand up in the air. Missy gestured toward the student. “Yes, Miss Kim?”

“If our aurors are so much better, why doesn’t the British Ministry of Magic just send their prospective aurors over here for training?” Madeline asked. “Or why don’t we send a trainer over there?”

Missy smiled. “Trust me, Miss Kim, that’s been discussed ad nauseum in the past. As someone who’s been to the Hogwarts castle, I can say first-hand that you can practically see the tradition and prestige ooze from the ancient castle walls! That said, their methods are rather antiquated… our British friends are rather stubborn to a fault, and would rather give up their magic altogether than to modernize their teaching methods!” She looked at her enchanted wristwatch. “Goodness gracious, I’m so sorry… we’ve got to get a move on. First heat, on my count, three, two, one…” TWEEEEEEET!

Harry was third in line, with Ana right behind him. “How many reps do we usually do for sprints?” he asked.

“Depends,” replied Ana with a bit of a shrug. “Usually five or six, then we just jog for the last twenty-odd minutes or so – oh, you’re up next Harry! Good luck!”

Harry turned around, and saw that his heat was about to go next. Tweeeet! Although sprinting in ice skates was a bit different than in trainers, it wasn’t anything Harry wasn’t used to as he had done the dreaded suicides – repeated sprints almost to the point of exhaustion. He bolted to the other side of the field without breaking as much of a sweat. He wasn’t the fastest in his heat, but he wasn’t all that far off.

A few seconds later, it was Ana’s turn. Although she wasn’t particularly fast or athletic, she was at least able to hold her own as she was around the middle of her heat. When she reached the other side, she shook her head at Harry in disbelief. “Good heavens, Harry! You can really scoot, did you know?”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I played ice hockey before coming to Ilvermorny. I’m used to being on my feet and needing to move quickly.”

Ana giggled. “Yeah, hopefully some of your hustle will rub off on Othniel.” Othniel was in the heat after Ana, and he finished third from last. Come on, Othniel. You’re better than that, Harry wanted to say to his friend.

A couple of minutes later, little Tallulah took off. As expected, she was the slowest in her heat, but at least it wasn’t due to lack of effort. The poor girl hunched over trying to catch her breath after she crossed the white line. Harry and Ana turned around and gave Tallulah a thumbs-up, which she reciprocated.

At six about six thirty five, once everyone had sprinted six times, Missy barked further instructions. “Everyone on the track – we’re going to jog until seven! I don’t want to see anyone walking!” She got on the track and began to jog in place for a moment, and blew her whistle again to let her charges know that it was time to start jogging.

Othniel seemed to have no problem maintaining a steady jog, so Harry asked him if it was okay if he would go on ahead for a little bit so he can stay behind and encourage Tallulah. Othniel nodded in agreement.

Harry and Ana stayed back as Tallulah clearly struggled with her running – she nearly vomited after running her sprints.

“You’re doing great, Tallulah,” Ana chirped as she set the pace for her friend. “I wasn’t that good at running either when I came here last year – you’ll get used to it, I promise.”

“Not as bad of a runner as me,” Tallulah wheezed. “I can’t exercise to save my life.”

“Exercising is easier when you have friends to do it with,” chimed in Harry. “Ana, Othniel and I won’t ever let you fall behind.” Tallulah smiled at Harry.

The time passed much more quickly than Tallulah expected – before she knew it, Missy blew her whistle again, which meant it was time for everyone to head back toward the castle. Just as Harry, Ana, and Tallulah were about to step inside the castle, Missy had caught up with them and wanted to have a word with them.

“I’d like to speak with you three if you don’t mind,” she said in a pleasant tone. “Slater – a point to the Horned Serpents for your refusal to quit, even though you knew that running was going to be a challenge today. Keep up the good work.” Tallulah blushed, obviously not expecting to be recognized by the trustee. “Potter and Harrison – a point to each of you for encouraging Miss Slater. You’re both team players and I hope to see more of that throughout the term.” She beamed so brightly that her cheeks turned somewhat pinkish.

“Thanks, Missy,” the three younger children said.

***

About a half hour later, Harry and Othniel had showered and changed into their daily uniforms. Both were grateful for the simple comforts of a collared golf shirt and khakis instead of the stuffy formal robes and starched dress shirts. They followed their housemates to the mess hall, where the scent of a delicious breakfast – made courtesy of the Pukwudgie helpers – awaited them.

They spotted Ana and Tallulah near the end of the Horned Serpent table. The girls had a similar daily uniform – collared golf shirts in the Horned Serpent house colors, but instead of trousers and hiking boots they wore pleated khaki-colored skirts, knee-length white socks and black penny loafers. Ana had managed to get her hair to look much straighter than at the training grounds, while Tallulah put her hair up in a tidy bun.

“You have a big day ahead of you,” giggled Ana. “You’ll be getting your class schedules sometime this morning, and you’ll also be getting your wands.”

“What’s that all about? Getting our wands, that is,” asked Othniel.

“Well,” giggled Ana, “it involves being locked in a room with an ettin, and plucking an eyebrow hair before it crushes you…”

Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah looked at each other, jaws agape.

“I’m kidding,” Ana said, rolling her eyes. “Merlin, you lot are gullible…”

“What’s an ettin, anyway?” Othniel asked, still confused.

“Good gravy Othniel,” sighed Ana. “Haven’t you read fantasy novels before?”

Othniel hung his head sheepishly. “Uhhh, no… my parents wouldn’t let me read that stuff.”

“It’s like a giant, but they have two heads,” explained Ana. “They actually exist in the magical world, if you can believe it.” She smirked. “And yes, so does Sasquatch – ettins and the Sasquatch are mortal enemies, according to what Professor Whitten taught us last year. I hope Professor Lupin’s as awesome!”

“Horned Serpents!” rang out a familiar shrill soprano from the opposite end of the table. Harry turned around and saw Missy with a huge stack of parchments in her arms. Her golden hair was done up in a flawless halo braid this time.

“Is she always that meticulous with her hair?” Tallulah asked Ana, who only gave her a deadpan expression before nodding.

“When I call out your year, you will come up to me to receive your class schedules for the term,” Missy called out. “All right, come up first-years!”

“That’s us,” Othniel said as he got up from his seat to get his class schedule. Harry and Tallulah were right behind him. When they returned to the table, it wasn’t long before Ana’s year was called up to receive theirs.

“Hey, can I see one of you guys’ schedules?” asked Ana. “I want to check something.” Tallulah handed Ana her schedule.

“Hmm, it looks like you’re having Herbology this morning. Professor Frye teaches that – she’s our house head, actually! And it’s a two-hour course… so today most of that time would probably be spent getting your wands,” she surmised. “And then you have History of Magic. You guys are lucky – Professor Esposito knows that the stuff she teaches can be dry and difficult to remember, but as she’s Italian-American, she sometimes brings pizza bites or tiramisu or something of her heritage to help keep your attention. They’re enchanted with memory charms to help you maintain your focus. I’ve heard horror stories about her predecessor – I think his name was Professor Cohen. He apparently had a habit of putting himself to sleep during his lectures!”

“That’s brilliant,” Othniel said. “I love Italian food, by the way!”

“What’s your first class, Ana?” asked Harry.

“Defense, if you can believe it! I really enjoyed it last year… I’m really curious to see what Professor Lupin’s all about,” replied Ana.

“Yeah, we have him this afternoon,” Tallulah said. “You’ll have to let us know at lunch!”

“For sure,” giggled Ana. “At any rate, it’s just about time for us to get up and go to class. You three have a terrific first day – I can’t wait to hear all about it!”

Chapter 12: The Wand Selection Hall

Chapter Text

Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah waved goodbye to Ana, then trotted off to Herbology. The three youngsters whispered amongst each other about what their first class was going to be like, then Tallulah remembered that they were going to get their wands which would likely take up the bulk of the class period. They then shifted their conversation about their theories about how they got their wands, and what they hoped their wands would look like.

Othniel pulled his schedule out of his knapsack. “It says that Herbology is taught on the first floor, in the classroom next to the greenhouse area.” He looked around to make sure they were heading in the right direction; to his relief he spotted his other two roommates about thirty paces ahead of them. “I think we’re on the right track… let’s just follow Quentin and Jeremy.”

Tallulah’s amber eyes sparkled as she pointed to a window ahead and slightly to the right of them. “There’s one of the greenhouses – we’re not far!”

Sure enough, they found the classroom. It was exceptionally brightly lit, and considerably more humid than the rest of the castle, as there were numerous potted plants and fungi in the classroom. Some of them were locked away behind glass or even in crates, ostensibly because they posed a certain danger to inexperienced students.

Harry sat between Othniel and Tallulah in the second-from-front row; the desks were cold to the touch and the seats were very hard and quite uncomfortable to sit in. Othniel tried to twist and contort his body in hopes that there was at least one viable sitting position that didn’t cause a significant degree of discomfort; but all his efforts were in vain.

“If it’s any consolation,” Tallulah offered, “much of Herbology is going to be spent in the greenhouse area…”

“Where it’s going to be even hotter and stuffier?” moaned Othniel. “Talk about going from the frying pan and into the fire!”

“Eighty-five degrees isn’t that hot,” huffed Tallulah. “Well… maybe where you’re from, but it’s pleasant to me!”

“It’s not the heat so much as it’s the humidity,” countered Othniel. “Eighty-five degrees by itself is okay I s’pose, but with eighty-five percent humidity? That’s a hard pass…”

Tallulah rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t last five minutes outdoors in a Georgia summer.”

“You wouldn’t last five minutes in an Oregon winter. I’m not talking about Portland where all the wussy fake outdoorsmen live – I’m talking about real Oregon winters – up in the Cascades,” Othniel shot back. “Y’know, real mountains unlike the glorified speed bumps you have out East!”

Harry groaned – for a split second, he was tempted to knock Othniel and Tallulah’s foreheads together. “Hey you two – cool it! Our teacher’s going to be here any moment, and I kind of want to give her a good first impression.”

“Sorry,” Othniel and Tallulah said, still glaring at each other.

At that moment, a somewhat short, plump figure swept in the room. She had short dark brown hair that was beginning to grey, and instead of the expected wizard robes, she wore something that strongly resembled a safari suit, complete with a felt bushranger hat. The expression on her face was very difficult to read – she was neither smiling nor frowning, and the way she scanned the classroom sent a bit of a chill down the spines of her students.

Harry got the feeling that this witch was probably a bit on the humorless side, though judging by her gaze, she likely had plenty of kindness as well. She pulled out a clipboard from one of her coat pockets, and began to call roll. When she got to Harry’s name, she blinked a few times more than usual, but otherwise continued down the list with no fuss.

When she finished taking roll, she clapped her hands once, and began making a formal introduction. “Good morning, class.”

She got a few mumbled “good mornings” in response, which clearly did not satisfy her. “No, no, that will not do. It’s not that early, you know. Let’s try that again, shall we? Good morning, class.”

After a more coherent chorus of “good mornings,” she nodded in approval. “Ahh, that’s more like it. Welcome to Herbology! I am Senior Professor Leigh Ellen Frye, but you may simply address me as Professor, or Professor Frye. I don’t like being called ‘ma’am’ so let’s stick with just ‘Professor’, if you please.”

She gestured to the Horned Serpent students, who were mostly concentrated on one side of the room. “Ah, there’s my Horned Serpents! In addition to being your Herbology instructor, I am also your head of house. As such, I am responsible for the safety, welfare, and discipline for all those in my house. As such, I have the authority to suspend and even permanently dismiss any delinquent students. Although such disciplinary measures are rare, I will invoke my right to use them should I deem them necessary. I implore you all not to test my patience; you will not like the reward.”

Her lips curved upwards into a gentle smile. “With that out of the way, I’d like to talk about more pleasant, more exciting things. Classroom participation and helping struggling classmates can earn you valuable house points.” She pointed at the Horned Serpent students and chuckled. “You may be in my house, my little scholars, but I assure you, that you won’t get any special treatment from me. You’ve got to earn your points just like the other three houses.”

She stood back to address the class as a whole. “So… first things first… does anyone know what herbology even is? Don’t be shy…”

Tallulah raised her hand after just a brief moment of hesitation. “Yes, Miss Slater?”

Tallulah smiled broadly before answering in her usual squeak. “Herbology is the study of plants, fungi, and algae. Some of them have magical properties which can be used either by themselves, or in a mixture such as a potion.”

Professor Frye beamed. “Marvelous, Miss Slater. Five points to the Horned Serpents!” Harry and Othniel high-fived Tallulah for her efforts. “Now, as this is first-year Herbology, most species we will be working with are fairly safe to handle, but I still want you to keep your wits about you as mishaps do happen to inattentive first-year students from time to time.”

She blinked a few times before continuing. “Oh! I almost forgot – this is your first full day at Ilvermorny! Before we do anything else, it’s high time that we all get our wands. After being sorted, receiving a wand is the most important rite of passage an Ilvermorny pupil goes through. Everybody up and out of your seats, and follow me please!”

She led a line of nearly fifty students out of the classroom, and down several corridors and then down a marble spiral staircase. Professor Frye then led them down one more hallway and came to a complete stop near the opposite end, which upon first glanced appeared to be nothing more than a dead end. She then placed her palm on a discolored brick, which caused the wall to shake and rattle momentarily. Some of the students shrieked, thinking that there was an earthquake, but the rumbling suddenly stopped.

A panel appeared on the wall, with four colored buttons – red, blue, yellow, and green. Professor Frye then pressed the buttons in a very specific sequence, but she did it so quickly that it was but a blur to everyone else.

A large archway opened, revealing a huge chamber that resembled a library, with every wall nearly covered with tall shelves. In the middle of the hall, an elderly man in bright white robes and an equally white beard sat at a simple wooden desk. He appeared to be reading some sort of scroll, and didn’t even bother to look up at the students who entered the chamber.

“Welcome to the Wand Selection Hall,” declared Professor Frye. “This is where you will receive your wand – you will be responsible for your wand henceforth, so take great care not to lose or break it.” She paused for a brief moment to ensure everyone was following what she was saying. “When Elder Gomer calls your name, you will come up to the desk in the middle of the room. He will tell you where to pick up your wand. He has taken a painstaking record for each wand distributed to Ilvermorny students for many, many years… to give you an idea, he has personally seen some of your great­-grandparents receiving their wands.”

Elder Gomer then addressed the students in a very airy, wheezy voice. While not loud, there was a haunting quality about it that caught every student’s attention. “As the good professor said, I am Elder Gomer, Crafter and Keeper of Wands. I have plied my trade for nearly a century – indeed, I take great pride in my work. I hope you are as satisfied with the quality of your wands as I am… what you are about to receive are not merely wands, but true labors of love. If you take care of your wands and treat them with respect, I guarantee they will take care of you. Bear in mind, these wands are not to leave school property… you must turn your wands in to your head of house prior to any holidays or breaks. This is one of the last vestiges of Rappaport’s Law that still applies… you will learn more about that in your History of Magic studies.”

He then proceeded to read off the list of names from a parchment. It didn’t take long for him to get to Othniel:

“Mister Beckett… let’s see… ten and one quarter inches, yew. Sasquatch hair core.” He pointed to a bookshelf near the far left corner of the room. “Section Absaroka, row Digamma.” Othniel went to the back of the hall to retrieve the wand. Initially, he was unsure where to even begin to find it, but as he got closer, a black box from the middle shelf began inching itself out, apparently to make it easier for Othniel to find. He grabbed the box, and gasped in amazement when he saw a brown wand with three pyramid-shaped knobs on the thicker end. He took it back to Elder Gomer, who nodded in approval, then gestured for Othniel to return to his group.

When it came to Harry’s turn, he felt a bit uneasy at the way Elder Gomer looked at him. “Mister Potter… interesting, most interesting. Only a very, very special wand will do for you… hmm… eleven inches, holly... phoenix feather core.” He pointed to the furthest shelf in the back of the hall. “Section Tenochtitlan, row Upsilon.” As Harry approached the back of the hall, he swore the entire shelf began to glow… he reached out and grabbed the case. When he opened it to inspect his new wand, his eyes grew to the size of silver dollars. This… this is my wand, Harry thought to himself. This is where my wizarding journey truly begins.

When he returned to the table where Elder Gomer sat, the old man stared through Harry in a most unsettling way, and whispered so softly that only Harry could hear. “Your wand… you must guard it with your life, Harry Potter,” he warned. “This is an exceptionally powerful wand… its potency is exceeded only by one… an ancient rod that I thankfully did not craft…” The pupils of Gomer’s eyes shrank to tiny dots. “The temptation of power will undoubtedly tug at you one day. You must resist, Harry Potter, or you will share his fate.”

“Whose fate?” Harry whispered back, his voice rife with confusion.

“The embodiment of black magic itself,” Gomer murmured. “A warlock so dark, few mortals dare to speak his name. He is as much of a slave to the darkness as much as he owns it.”

“Does he own this other wand?” Harry asked.

Gomer smiled wistfully. “No. And I pray he never does… if the Orb were ever to fall in his hands, the whole world will burn.” He gently grabbed Harry by the wrist, and began peering through his bright green eyes.

Harry slowly put a hand to his forehead – he felt his scar tingle somewhat. Several flashbacks went through his head – several bright green flashes, multiple bodies on the ground, an argument between a hippie and a witch, being burped by an eight-foot tall man-giant, then being handed off to who must have been his Uncle Roger…

“You will fight the darkness one day, Harry Potter, and you must defeat it once and for all,” Gomer continued. “It is your destiny. The journey will be long and difficult, but even in your darkest hour, you will not be alone.”

Gomer smiled again, but in a gentle, grandfatherly way. “Do not worry about this right now, Harry Potter. It will make sense one day, but for now, enjoy the innocence that goes along with being a child. One day, you will no longer be a student, and you will be responsible for more than just yourself.”

When Harry returned to his group, Tallulah tugged on his sleeve. “Are you okay, Harry?” she whispered. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

“I did, in a sense,” admitted Harry. He pointed at Gomer with his head. “That old man up there… I get the feeling that he’s really wise and powerful. He knows things about me that I didn’t even know about myself… at least things I don’t remember.”

“Does he frighten you?” Tallulah asked.

“A little bit,” admitted Harry. “But not nearly as scared as I would be if he were a dark wizard. I’m just glad he’s one of the good ones.”

Chapter 13: Defense Against the Dark Arts

Chapter Text

It wasn’t all that long before Tallulah received her wand – nine and a half inches, hickory, with a Quetzalcoatl Quill core – and everyone was ushered back to Herbology to finish their first lesson.

“Remember to read pages eight through eighteen before our next lecture,” Professor Frye reminded her pupils before dismissing them. “You will be expected to be familiar with wormwood and its properties. That’s all I have, and may you all have a great Ilver-morning!”

With that, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah scurried off to their next class of the morning, History of Magic, taught by Professor Carlotta Esposito. To their relief, the classroom was a hop, skip and a jump from Herbology. However, the History classroom was more like an auditorium, and it soon dawned on Harry that History was taught to all four houses at once as he saw the insignias from the other three houses scattered throughout the room.

Professor Esposito physically resembled Professor Frye in that she was a bit on the shorter side and somewhat plump, but she was probably about ten years older as her hair was more grey than brown, and she favored stylish blue robes and large hoop earrings.

“Welcome to History of Magic,” the professor greeted in a distinct Northeastern dialect. “I am Senior Professor Esposito, Head of Wampus House. Before we begin, I would like to make it very clear to you that I have high expectations for each and every one of you. No, History is not the most exciting subject in our curriculum, but do not underestimate its importance.”

She paused a moment to wipe off her reading glasses. “There is so much more to History of Magic than simple memorization of dates and names. It’s also an introduction to wizarding law and society – for the no-maj born witches and wizards, you’ll find out why things are the way they are in the wizarding world. You will be expected to know how to conduct yourself appropriately in the wizarding world, so by the time you complete your studies at Ilvermorny, you’ll have no excuse to behave like ignorant, wandless buffoons.”

She then flashed a knowing smile. “Yes, some of the information in this class is dry… believe me, I’ve spent seven years under my predecessor, Professor Cohen, and even for me it was a genuine struggle to pay attention much of the time. So, in an effort to make the classroom experience as positive as possible, I will bring special treats to class on a regular basis to help keep your curiosity piqued. These snacks are home-made, and the recipes go back to Palermo, Italy!”

She wagged a finger, as if admonishing someone. “Do not mistake these aids as a means to achieve an automatic ‘O’ – I’m only meeting you halfway. You’re still responsible for studying on your own time, and you will be graded on your level of participation, so you will still need to pull your weight.”

She waved her wand, and a large basket appeared on the top of her podium. “Before we start, I think some garlic knots would hit the spot, wouldn’t you agree?” She waved her wand again, and every student found a napkin and a modest-sized piece of twisty garlic bread on their desk. “Freshly baked, just this morning. While small enough to leave you plenty of room for lunch, I do hope you find them tasty.”

The class all but flew by; before they knew it, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah were heading for the mess hall for lunch. “Those garlic knots were incredible!” exclaimed Othniel as he took his seat at the Horned Serpent table. “I hope she does this for every class!”

“It would be nice,” agreed Harry. “But I don’t think we should expect to have them every time, though they were delicious.” Their conversation was soon interrupted by a familiar high-pitched giggle.

“Hello, firstie friends!”

Tallulah turned around and grinned broadly. “Ana! How’s your day so far?”

Ana returned the bright smile. “Terrific! I didn’t think it was possible, but Oh. My. Goodness. Professor Lupin is amazing! Like, he blows Professor Whitten out of the water, and he was very good in his own right!” She then snickered. “Professor Lupin taught us the Boggart-Banishing spell – it’s called riddikulus. Oh, you should have seen Mitzi Lopez cast it… her boggart was a flippin’ clown of all things, and she turned it into a waiter that sings badly off-key!”

“Boggart?” asked Othniel. “What exactly is a boggart?”

“A boggart is a shape-shifting entity that morphs into the observer’s worst fear. The riddikulus spell is where you change something that scares you, into something that you find funny,” explained Ana.

“What was yours?” asked Harry. “If you don’t mind telling us, that is.”

“A spider,” Ana said. “I’m deathly afraid of spiders!” Tallulah shuddered as she nodded in agreement – she found most creepy-crawly things to be quite repulsive herself.

“What did you turn the spider into, then?” asked Tallulah.

“A baby doll with a baseball bat,” giggled Ana.

Othniel shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“So how are you liking Ilvermorny so far?” asked Ana. “I know a couple of classes isn’t much of a sample size, but both Professor Frye and Professor Esposito are very good at what they do. It’s evident they care about what they teach, and whom they teach.”

“Can’t complain so far,” said Harry. “Though getting my wand was a bit… unnerving.”

Ana arched one of her eyebrows. “How so?”

“Well,” sighed Harry, “that Elder Gomer wizard… the really, really old man in the white robes… the way he looked at me and sort of told me my future… it wasn’t really what I expected.” He carefully drew his wand. “He said this wand is really, really special… like it’s one of the most powerful wands in existence. He said that only this really ancient Orb is more powerful.”

“See, I knew you’re not an ordinary wizard,” Ana said with a bit of a grin. “And I’m not sure what this orb is… and honestly, I’m not even sure if we’re supposed to know about it… outside of Elder Gomer and probably the Headmaster, I’m not sure most of the faculty would know of such an arcane artifact!”

“Whatever it is, it just hope it’s being held in a really, really secure place,” Harry said, rubbing at his scar. “Elder Gomer can apparently see my past… through him, I saw some really, really old memories… some of them weren’t so bad, but a couple of them were more like nightmares, and those nightmares caused my scar to tingle… like, this monster killed my parents. I get the feeling that he was merely defeated and not truly destroyed – if he ever regroups and gets his claws on this Orb, the whole world is doomed.”

“That’s a lot for an eleven year old boy to take in,” agreed Ana. “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about this Orb and worry about the things in your more immediate future.”

Othniel cleared his throat, clearly not comfortable with the subject. “Soooo… we have Defense after lunch. It looks like the classroom is on the second floor…”

“Yes… you really will like Professor Lupin,” Ana said. “He’s a good teacher, but he’s also really handsome with a beard with just hints of grey in it, not to mention he’s got a cute British accent!” She covered her mouth with a hand to try and stifle a giggle.

“Those last two points make no difference to me,” replied Harry. “All I care about is that he knows his subject, and doesn’t act like a total jerk.”

Ana shook her head from side-to-side. “He’s not a jerk, and he knows Defense. I don’t think Professor Fontaine would have brought him on board if he didn’t think he would be a good fit.” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, then placed her apple core on her lunch tray. “I’ve got Potions with Madam L… I’ll see you three later, mmkay?”

“Bye Ana,” replied Harry. “We’ll catch up in a bit.”

***

Once Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah finished their lunch, they headed up to the second floor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ana hadn’t steered them wrong so far, so they had no reason to think she’d deceive them now. They took their seats near the front of the classroom and waited for Professor Lupin to enter the classroom.

The wait wasn’t long. Just like the night before, Professor Lupin was draped in drab brown robes and carried a simple brown briefcase, with his initials “RJL” engraved just below the handle. Although he was in his early thirties, he looked closer to forty in age as not only did his neatly-trimmed brown beard show occasional hints of grey, but the expression on his face could perhaps be described as one of weariness.

He set his briefcase down on his podium, then his eyes locked on to Harry’s. Harry felt a bit of a lump form in his throat – after all, there was something about this man that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Professor Lupin slowly approached Harry, with only the tiniest smirk forming on his lips. “Harry Potter,” he whispered so softly that it was nearly inaudible. His smirk grew, as did his voice, but only a hair. “There is no doubt; you are the spitting image of your father.” He extended his hand to Harry, who accepted with slight hesitation.

“Oh, we need to work on that handshake of yours, Harry,” Professor Lupin said. His smirk grew to a full grin. “How are Roger and Sirius, by the way? I haven’t seen either of them in quite some time… we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Harry smiled. “They’re both doing well in western Canada. I’m sure both of them miss you, though I’ve never really heard them talk about you, at least in front of me… to be honest, they’ve rarely discussed my parents in my presence.”

Professor Lupin nodded. “That’s understandable. The three of us – and your parents – go back quite a ways.” He let out a slow exhale. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at your course schedule.” Harry nodded, and produced the parchment and handed it to his teacher. The professor studied the schedule for a minute or so and returned it to Harry. “I’d like to see you later this week, in my office, during your free period this Thursday, if that works for you. I just want to spend a little time catching up, and I’m sure you have questions for me.”

“Yeah, actually I do have some questions,” admitted Harry. “Can my friends Othniel and Tallulah come along?”

Professor Lupin shrugged. “If we make this a regular thing, I don’t see why not… but just this once, I’d prefer it if it’s the two of us.”

Harry nodded. “That’s fine, Professor.”

Professor Lupin smiled. “Perfect, Harry. Thanks for being accommodating.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You may call me Remus, in private, once we get better-acquainted; if that works for you.”

Again, Harry nodded. “Fair enough, sir.” He suddenly felt a bit more at ease, and finally smiled for the first time since meeting his new professor. “For what it’s worth, you’ve made quite the impression on my friend Anastasia this morning.”

Professor Lupin grinned. “Anastasia, as in Harrison? Second-year student?” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Yes, I remember her from this morning. Very bright, bubbly little witch. You’d do well to follow her example, young man. Now, as much as I’d love to chit-chat, I do have to do a little bit of teaching today.”

He then stepped back, clapped his hands once, and made a brief introduction, followed by a course outline. To the students’ relief, he assured them that he wasn’t going to go completely by the book and that there would be some practical lessons as well.

When class was dismissed, Professor Lupin tapped Harry on the shoulder and reminded him of Thursday afternoon during his free period. Harry nodded and promised he’d have some questions ready.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t we done for the day?” asked Othniel as he left the classroom with Harry and Tallulah.

“We are,” confirmed Tallulah. “I guess we can go to the common room and get started on our homework.”

Chapter 14: Learning About the Quiz Bowl

Chapter Text

It was the first time that Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah headed back to the Horned Serpent common room unescorted – or at least with a sizable group of their housemates – so it took them a little bit to figure out the layout of the castle. Othniel and Tallulah bickered about the location of a shortcut that would have saved them at least a minute or two, which drove Harry to the brink of insanity. He was about to blurt out some… colorful language when he heard a cry of relief from Othniel.

“Finally,” he exclaimed. “There’s the enchanted lift… I just hope one of us can get it to activate.” He waited for Harry and Tallulah to step on the platform first before joining them. Harry remembered that Missy tapped the platform with her foot twice, which would be followed by a riddle of sorts. As soon as Harry double-tapped the platform with his hiking boot, the familiar sound of a disembodied voice greeted the youngsters.

“Firsties!” declared Old Margie. “Care to try your luck this afternoon? Let me see if I can think of a riddle that you might be able to figure out…”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” replied Othniel. “Why do they call you ‘Old Margie’? You’re a voice with no body… do you, erm, haunt this device?”

Old Margie let out a shrill, quick laugh. “Not exactly, young man. I am this device… you see, many many years ago, the architect of the lift you’re standing on, Albrecht Pugh-LeFevour, wanted to give me a life of sorts. He wanted to honor the memory of his mother, Marjorie, so the enchantment he placed gave me her voice and personality.”

“That was very kind of him,” said Tallulah. “So, erm, do you prefer Marjorie, or Old Margie? Marjorie sounds a little more dignified if you ask me.”

“I’m inclined to agree, young lady,” replied Old Margie. “But over the years I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that students call me Old Margie out of affection, so I don’t mind either way.” There was a brief, yet eerie silence that followed. “Now, about that riddle… thirty-two white horses upon a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, and finally they stand still… what are they?”

Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah stood there for a minute, thinking. “Take your time… after all, it’s the one thing that I have in greater quantity than riddles,” Old Margie said. “And I’ll give each of you one guess apiece, otherwise you’ll have to wait for an older student or faculty to bail you out.” She chuckled in rather devious manner.

“Something red and white and moves,” Harry thought aloud. “I’m not going to lie – I like to think I’m smart, but I’ve never been the best at riddles. Any ideas?”

Othniel just shrugged, while Tallulah’s facial expression looked like she was sucking on a lemon. “Just give me a minute,” she squeaked with a touch of annoyance.

Othniel was getting restless, he was ready to try anything to get upstairs. “How about… possums devouring a mountain of apples?” he blurted.

“Strike one,” gloated Old Margie. Harry elbowed Othniel in the ribs and gave him a dirty sideways glance, while Tallulah remained exactly as she was, deep in thought. A moment later, her face perked up as if a light bulb suddenly illuminated in her head. Her amber eyes sparkled as an enormous smile crept on her face.

“I think I have it,” she chirped. “Othniel – your answer might have seemed ridiculous, but it gave me something to chew on – pun possibly intended.”

“All right, young lady,” beckoned Old Margie. “What do you think the answer is?”

“Teeth and gums,” replied Tallulah with confidence.

“Well done,” droned Old Margie. The children suddenly heard the sound of stones grinding against each other, and before they knew it, they were at the top of the tower.

“Thanks, Tallulah,” Harry said. “I don’t know how long we’d be down there if it weren’t for you.” Tallulah’s cheeks turned a rosy pink.

As Harry and Tallulah placed their belongings on one of the teal-and-gold trimmed plush couches, Othniel stood on the opposite side of the room, reading the contents of a bulletin board. “Hey, you guys might want to check this out,” he called out. “There might be some important information here.”

“Yeah, Missy mentioned that last night before lights-out,” replied Tallulah. “At least to the girls. Anyway, she told us that we should read the bulletin board every day as it tells us of upcoming events and the like. One of the trustees is supposed to update it every weekday morning after our physical training.”

“Well none of the male trustees told us anything,” grumbled Othniel. “You’re lucky you have someone like Missy…”

Tallulah scrunched her nose. “I’m sure one of the male trustees did mention something about it – you probably weren’t paying attention is all.” Othniel looked at Harry, who co*cked his head and shrugged.

“Anyway,” continued Tallulah, “it looks like there’s tryouts next week – quidditch, quiz bowl, Wizard’s Chess Club… oh, bummer.”

“What’s the ‘bummer’ for?” Harry asked.

“With the exception of Wizard’s Chess, it says that you have to be at least a second-year to try out for school-sanctioned activities,” explained Tallulah. “And my guess is that these teams are dominated by upperclassmen so it’s probably not likely we’ll be representing the Horned Serpents for anything for at least a few years.”

“Let’s be honest, you probably wouldn’t have a prayer to make the quidditch team even as a seventh-year,” remarked Othniel.

Tallulah stuck her nose up in the air. “I have very little interest in sports, so I won’t even bother trying out for a game I have next to no knowledge of anyway. Next year, I may give the quiz bowl a go, though…”

“I’m sure you’d do very well,” Harry told Tallulah. “So… we have some time to kill, would you like to do our homework right here?”

“Works for me,” answered Tallulah.

“So, what do you want to go over first? We’ve got an essay for History that’s due in two weeks, and I kind of want to get a head-start on that,” said Harry. “Herbology and Defense won’t take very… mmph!”

“What was that all about?” Othniel asked.

Harry didn’t reply, he merely motioned to the right with his head a few times. In the opposite corner of the common room sat Nova with a textbook in her lap, and a mug of piping hot tea in her hands. She occasionally peered up from her book to look at the younger children.

“Oh relax, Harry,” Othniel said. “She’s not bothering anybody. She’s just… having a cuppa and boning up on how to be a lady!” He pretended to drink from a teacup, pinky finger extended; both boys couldn’t help but chuckle. Tallulah, who didn’t find Othniel’s mimicry all that amusing, chucked him in the elbow and gave him a bit of a glare.

A loud groan came from the opposite side of the room, followed by the loud snap of a book closing shut. Nova stood from her armchair and began making her way to the girls’ dormitory area. Harry, in his guilt, stood up and tried to flag her down. “Nova, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “My friend and I were being a little insensitive…”

Nova scarcely stopped to address Harry. “Save your breath, Potter,” she whispered, and continued her brisk march to her dorm room.

***

Dinner was a bit quieter than expected. It was just Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah sitting together. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Ana was upset at them for making fun of Nova. His fears were assuaged when he caught up to her in the hallway after he finished eating.

“Hey there, Ana,” he said. “We missed you at dinner… I hope you’re not mad at us or anything…”

“Hiya, Harry,” squeaked Ana. “No, why would I be mad at you? I just wanted to catch up with some of my other friends is all.”

Harry nodded. “Well, that’s good… well, I saw Nova in the common room earlier this afternoon, and Othniel kinda-sorta made fun of her.” He hung his head in shame. “I laughed a little too, so it’s not all his fault.”

Ana smiled and shook her head. “What did the little goofball say?”

Harry was able to suppress a laugh, but couldn’t fully stop a grin from forming on his face. “Well… he said that she was studying how to be a lady, and he kinda made fun of how she drinks her tea.” His smile evaporated. “I tried to apologize, but she didn’t want any of it. She just… stormed out.”

“I know the two of you don’t feel that comfortable around each other,” Ana replied in a knowing tone. “You have to bear in mind that her issues are more about herself than they are about you.” She let out a small sigh. “She may never tell me the full story, but if I had to guess… she’s jealous of you for some reason…”

“And her last name is Woodward,” added Harry. “What if she is related to Roger and Rhonda? What if she’s… their biological daughter?”

“I can’t say one way or the other, Harry,” Ana said. “But let’s say that your theory is true… subconsciously she may feel rejected by her actual parents, and while she doesn’t necessarily mean any ill-will toward you, she could feel a bit of resentment and jealousy because you effectively took her place. I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to take it so personally, and if she keeps acting cold toward you, just imagine yourself in her place for a moment to get some perspective.”

“I don’t even know the full story of my own upbringing,” Harry murmured. “I didn’t ask to be raised by the Woodwards – it just happened that way. I do want to talk to her… when the time is right.”

“Yes, and she’ll want to do the same,” agreed Ana. “Just leave the ball in her court and let her approach you. It may take a while… weeks, even months… but I guarantee she’ll want to sit down and get some things off her chest. At the very least, you’ll both gain some understanding…” She smiled broadly. “Maybe you’ll both even gain a friend out of it.”

Harry retuned the smile and nodded. “I hope you’re right.” He raised a forefinger, as he suddenly remembered something. “Oh, I’m guessing you’ve already checked the bulletin earlier today?”

Ana nodded. “I did.”

Harry looked away for the briefest of moments. “So, are you going to try out for the quiz bowl team this year? I know you’re really, really smart and you’re good enough to make the team…”

Ana giggled. “As a matter of fact, I am. It’s very rare that a second-year student makes the team, and it’s even rarer when they’re a starter! Most starters are at least fourth-years, and the few second and third-year students that make the team are usually alternates.”

“How many starters are there?” asked Harry. “And what kind of stuff do they, erm, quiz you over?”

“There are five starters, and three alternates,” explained Ana. “Seniority is a huge factor when it comes to selecting starters, so you’d have to be otherworldly to hope to crack the starting five as a second-year. You have to maintain excellent marks in all your classes – only O’s in core classes, and EE’s or O’s in electives – and you have to have an exemplary record of conduct.” She hummed as she tapped her chin. “As far as subjects go, it’s all academic in nature. They’re mainly from the core classes, but some questions can come from elective courses too.”

Harry nodded. “Well, I think you satisfy all the criteria, except for being an upperclassman.” He co*cked his head. “Would you be happy making the team as an alternate?”

Ana didn’t even blink. “I’d be elated to make the team in any capacity, Harry. The competition is really, really tough… it’s stiff enough for the other three houses, but for the Horned Serpents, I’m surrounded by scholars. It’s that much harder.”

“I think you can do it, Ana,” Harry replied with confidence.

Ana flashed a smile. “Thank you. So, how did Defense treat you today?”

“Pretty good, I think,” Harry said with a shrug. “Professor Lupin asked me to see him during my free period later in the week. He sure seems to know me… he thought that I might have some questions, y’know, about the magical world. It’d be nice if he could maybe fill in some of those gaps.”

“He probably knows a bit of what happened in Magical Britain and may tell you some things that your guardians haven’t told you yet,” surmised Ana. “He probably won’t tell you everything, but from the sounds of it, he wants to guide and mentor you.” She bit her lip. “Whether you like to admit it or not, you are a special wizard. I have a feeling that you’re going to do some incredible things one day…” She flashed a knowing smile at her friend.

Harry couldn’t help but blush. “If I do incredible things, it’s because I’ll have friends like you at my side.”

Chapter 15: Potions and Transfiguration

Chapter Text

The next morning after breakfast, Harry headed for the castle basem*nt for his first class that day – Potions. The classroom was only modestly-lit, and had a particularly musty odor to it. No doubt this was due to the poor ventilation, as the walls made of solid stone, and the classroom was too far underground for any windows.

The instructor was quite reminiscent of a no-maj’s depiction of a witch – she was elderly and thin as a rail, and had a rather hunched-over posture. She was decked almost entirely in forest green, from her bonnet to her boots. Most striking of all were two scrunched, dark eyes behind a pair of pince-nez spectacles, which were perched on a very long, pointed nose with prominent warts. There was a blackboard behind her, with only five words written on it in large, white block letters: “Madam Lewandowski – First Year Potions”.

At exactly eight fifteen, she pulled out a parchment and began taking attendance. Her voice was unusually husky and had a certain Mid-Atlantic quality, reminiscent of a certain no-maj celebrity chef who specialized in French cooking. When she had finished calling roll, she scanned the classroom, eyeing her students in a calculating manner.

If it was possible, her already-severe features turned a shade sourer. The scowl on her face clearly conveyed that she tolerated no funny business, and that students would be wise to not cross her. “The lot of you think yourselves so smart,” she drawled, “and you think yourselves above paltry instruction and discipline.” For but a split-second, Harry swore her eyes bore into his, sending a nasty shiver down his spine.

Her voice was not especially loud, but it commanded a certain level of respect. She slowly strolled throughout the classroom to make sure that she had each and every student’s undivided attention. “I don’t care if you’re a child prodigy… in my classroom, we do things my way, or no way at all – no ifs, ands, or buts!” She clasped her hands together. “My rules are simple, but profound… and by Merlin’s beard, you will write them down!” The scurrying sounds of rustling parchment and clinking ink wells filled the classroom for the next few seconds.

“All pupils shall be punctual to each and every seminar, prepared to learn and participate,” continued the Potions teacher in a deliberate tone. “Demerits will be handed out to tardy, unprepared, or inattentive pupils.”

She continued making her way around the classroom, her footsteps sounding heavy and ominous. “Secondly, when I tell you to do something, you will not ask me to repeat myself. That will be grounds for a demerit.”

She returned to the front of the room and scowled once more. “For those of you who haven’t the foggiest idea of what to expect in Potions, a lot can go wrong if you are not careful when preparing concoctions. Which is why you must do exactly as I say, which is without exception, quite literally by the book. An incorrect amount of ingredients, or an incorrect ingredient altogether, can send you – or worse, a classmate – to the infirmary. The margin of error is exceedingly small, I assure you. And finally, if I catch any pupils goofing around during class time – that will be five demerits, meaning an automatic detention, plus a referral to your house head’s office for any offending pupils.” Her small eyes scrunched down to the size of pin heads, and her voice got so low and ominous that several students winced. “Do. Not. Test. Me.”

She produced the same list as what she used to take attendance, and began quizzing students at random. “Miss Burgundy,” she began, pointing to a baby-faced Thunderbird toward the back of the room. “Can you tell me how many rat tails to put in a Hair-Raising Potion?”

The quaking girl shook her head ‘no’, which only invoked the wrath of the irascible Potions Master. “A shame. New term, same overconfidence… thought you were too good to at least skim through the material before class started, huh? That’s a demerit for your lack of foresight.”

She checked her list again, and called out another name. “Ah… Miss Slater. Perhaps you can enlighten us instead?”

Tallulah didn’t hesitate for an instant. “I think it’s two, Professor,” she squeaked.

“You are correct,” replied Madam Lewandowski, “but no house points for you. My title is Madam, not Professor, which I clearly wrote on the blackboard behind me. If you want house points next time, you’ll do well to remember that!” Tallulah’s face remained impassive, but she was fuming on the inside.

Othniel was chanting, “not me, not me, not me,” in his head as Madam Lewandowski continued to interrogate students at random. She ran her finger down the list one final time, before stopping at “Potter, Harry J.” Her lips curled into an unnatural-looking smirk.

“Ahh, Mister Potter,” she creaked. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re related to the prominent wizarding family from across the pond. I suppose we’ll find out.” A nasty cackle escaped her lips as she attempted to catch Harry off-guard. “Tell me, young Potter. I’d like to know two ingredients for the Draught of the Living Death.”

Harry’s eyes rolled upward in thought – he did remember reading about the potion when going over his texts before coming to class. “I think wormwood is one of them,” he recalled.

“An infusion of wormwood is one of them, yes,” confirmed Madam Lewandowski. “I’ll bet you can’t name another – Merlin’s beard, it took you long enough to name just one…”

Harry’s nostrils flared at the jab, but he continued to tap into his memory banks. “I think another is as… asphodel, Madam Luhh….” He didn’t even bother attempting to finish pronouncing her surname; fortunately for him she cut him off before he had a chance to butcher it.

“You sound a little unsure there, Potter,” admonished Madam Lewandowski. “But yes, powdered root of asphodel is another ingredient.” She heaved a reluctant sigh. “At least you’ve bothered to crack open your textbook, which is more than quite a few of your classmates can say.” She returned to the blackboard, and pointed her wand at her name. “You got the ‘Madam’ part right, and that’s enough… a point to the Horned Serpents. My name is pronounced lev-an-DOFF-ski, but I’ll throw the lot of you a bone… you may address me simply as Madam L from now on.”

Another Thunderbird girl, Tabitha Perch, who was sitting a couple of rows behind Harry, raised her hand.

Madam L rolled her eyes before calling on her. “Yes, Miss Perch?” There was a definite note of annoyance in her voice.

“Why are you ‘Madam’ L and not Professor L?” Tabitha asked in a sweet, light Southern drawl.

“That is inconsequential and not something you’ll be tested on,” Madam L replied with indifference. She closed her eyes and pinched her nose. “But I suppose I’ll humor you. Years ago, I was an assistant to my predecessor, Professor Huckleberry Quinkle-Chapman, who was the finest potioneer of his day on either side of the Atlantic. And if any of the blowhards at Hogwash School of Worstcraft and Fakery tell you otherwise, well, they’re dead wrong! He could brew circles around that buffoon Arsenius Jigger… it’s insulting that I have to instruct using his book… Old Huck was too busy actually inventing and brewing potions – you know, actually being a potioneer – that he had no time to write a book!”

The same unnatural smirk returned to her face. “Don’t get me wrong, Master Jigger was a competent brewer, but he was hardly the most talented. Writing books was his only meaningful contribution to the potioning world. The information in your course books is little more than glorified plagiarism. That being said, Old Huck was getting on in years… all those experimental potions and exposure to dangerous ingredients did a number to his body and mind. He was slowly losing his sanity, and as a means to protect his remaining good health, he and the former headmaster mutually agreed that he should retire just before Christmas around fifteen years ago. I was asked to fill in as a last-minute substitute, but as I was never expected to stay on as the full-time Potions Master, nobody ever bothered to bestow me the title of Professor.”

She shrugged. “For the first couple of years, I lobbied the previous headmaster, Professor Yelverton, about granting me the title of Professor as he apparently was satisfied with me teaching full-time – he never suggesting looking for a permanent replacement – but he never came through. I eventually gave up – I didn’t even bring it up when Professor Fontaine replaced Yelverton. Good riddance, I say. Nowadays I take a bit of pride knowing that I’m the only ‘Madam’ that teaches a core class, and that my authority is coequal to any professor that is not also a head of house.”

She looked at the clock on the wall, and glared at Tabitha. “Well done, Miss Perch. You’ve successfully gotten me off-track. We’ve lost three valuable class minutes, so now you see why I frown upon students asking impertinent questions.” She wagged a long, wrinkled finger. “You are fortunate, young lady – I’ll let it slide today as it’s the first day, but going forward, keep the questions to the topic at hand! Capice?”

“Yes Madam L,” replied Tabitha, who resisted the urge to snicker.

***

When class got out, a collective sigh of relief could be heard throughout the basem*nt. “I’m glad that’s over,” Othniel said to Harry and Tallulah. “Holy moly, I’ve never met such a grump before!”

Even Tallulah, who tended to disagree with Othniel on a lot of things, fully supported his assessment. “I’m glad the rest of our teachers aren’t nearly so foul-tempered.”

“We’ve got Transfiguration coming up, and Charms this afternoon,” Harry said. “Hopefully whoever teaches those will be a bit less strict.”

They made their way upstairs to the first floor, and their eyes and ears got a bit of a reprieve in the far brighter, less-acrid Transfiguration classroom. Their instructor, Professor Ignacio Clemente, was dressed rather like an Argentinian gaucho in a colorfully-patterned poncho and leather chaps, and wore a wide-brimmed felt hat. To Harry’s relief, he seemed much more jovial than Madam Lewandowski.

“Bienvenidos, class,” Professor Clemente greeted the first-years with a heavy South American Spanish accent. “I am your Transfiguration instructor, Professor Clemente, and we will have a lot to cover this year, so you would be wise to listen, and listen well… if you don’t get the material this year, it will only get harder starting next term. So I will tell you now… if you feel you are falling behind and need help, send me an owl. I will arrange a tutor to get you back on track, or if all else fails, I will help you myself. I want each and every one of you to succeed… because your successes are my successes, and your failures are also my failures… I take this very personally.”

His expression hardened into something a bit more serious, though it was still far warmer than Madam Lewandowski’s. “Transfiguration is a very complicated class, and potentially dangerous, so everyone needs to keep their wits about them at all times. If you are not fully focused, the first mistake you make… could be your last, as accidents have been known to be fatal.”

His face reverted to is original welcoming expression, and he wiggled his eyebrows. “Perhaps… you would like to see a little demonstration?” He pointed his crooked wand at a tall coffee tumbler on his desk, and before anyone could blink, it had turned into a muskrat! A few seconds later, he waved his wand again, and the muskrat had reverted to its original coffee cup form. The entire classroom burst into applause.

Professor Clemente smirked. “I’m afraid we won’t be attempting anything that complicated anytime soon, but we all have to start somewhere. I have brought some matchsticks for you to practice with; I will award five house points to the first who can successfully transform it into a needle.”

He passed out matchsticks to everyone in the classroom, but not one student had complete success transforming them. Harry got his matchstick to glisten a bit, while Tallulah had managed to make her matchstick thinner and more pointed, but still wooden. Othniel couldn’t get his to do anything at all.

“Heh. Transfiguration is quite tricky, is it not?” chuckled Professor Clemente, twirling his waxed moustache. “Most of you just got your wands yesterday, is that right? It probably feels a little strange in your hands, especially for those of you who did not grow up in a magical family. Don’t worry, it will come in time. Why don’t we start with a basic grip? Holding your wand the correct way is key… if you grip your wand poorly, you’ll cast spells poorly… if at all!”

He held his wand-arm out, fully extended, to show his pupils how to properly grip a wand. “Hold out your hands, like so. Ahh, very good.” He began patrolling the classroom to inspect his students’ individual grips. He eventually made his way to Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah. He nodded and smiled at Harry’s grip. “Very good, young man,” he trilled. He pointed at Tallulah’s wand. “Well done, miss.”

He arched an eyebrow at Othniel. “The way you’re holding your wand, it looks a little… unnatural,” he remarked. “Try bringing your hand down a hair.” Othniel did as he was told, and brought his hand down to where he gripped the very base of the wand.

Professor Clemente stroked his chin. “Hmm… that’s a little better, but something’s still not right.” He paused to think for a few seconds, before having Othniel try again. “Are you right or left-handed, Mister…?”

“Beckett,” replied Othniel. “Othniel Beckett. I’m left-handed, sir.”

“Mister Beckett,” Professor Clemente repeated. “Yes, try holding it with your left hand. That may explain your strange grip.” Othniel nodded and swapped hands as suggested. Professor Clemente nodded in approval.

“Yes, I think that was your problem all along. Just like in the non-magical world, there are right and left-dominant witches and wizards… and years ago, there was an attempt to force all magically-inclined people to use their right hands, but that experiment was disastrous, to say the least.” He continued to patrol the classroom and inspected each students’ grips before returning to the front of the classroom.

He clapped his hands once. “All right, let’s try it again, shall we?”

Harry tried again, and while not a full transformation, he got one of the ends of the matchstick to turn metallic. Tallulah had turned the shape of the matchstick into a needle, with just the eye of the needle actually being metallic. Othniel turned his matchstick metal, but nowhere near the shape of a needle.

“I see you’re getting closer – that’s good,” Professor Clemente said encouragingly. “Keep practicing. You will get the hang of it as long as you keep at it!”

Although nobody had gotten the simple transfiguration spell exactly right, the children at least all felt encouraged. If nothing else, Professor Clemente was a far warmer and more patient instructor than Madam L. Harry, Othniel and Tallulah decided to head to the library to spend their free period.

“Good gravy, we’ve got a lot of homework,” moaned Othniel. “And we’ve only had two classes – we’ve got Charms after lunch!”

“There’s probably a method to the madness,” reasoned Harry. “Potions and Transfiguration are harder classes than anything we’ve had yesterday.”

“And I suspect Charms won’t be much easier,” guessed Tallulah. “Charms is similar to Transfiguration, but to my recollection it modifies an existing item’s properties rather than changing the item altogether.”

“Who teaches that again?” asked Othniel.

“Professor Rudiger,” replied Tallulah. “His classroom is just down the hall from the library, so that’ll be nice.”

“It’ll be nicer when we’ll be done for the day,” groaned Othniel. “I’ve only had two classes but my brain’s already mush.”

Chapter 16: Charms And Catching Up

Chapter Text

Charms was a bit different than what Harry expected. Being on the second floor, the classroom was far more ventilated and brightly-lit than the Potions lab in the basem*nt; yet there was a certain eerie vibe that made him feel a bit uneasy. The shelves were lined with strangely-bound tomes (Tallulah suspected they were made from human skin), human skulls, and what must have been jars of shrunken heads with their eyes and lips sewn shut. There was a distinct aroma of incense, and perhaps most alarming of all was a perfectly preserved seven-foot long crocodile that hung from the ceiling.

Their teacher, Professor Seymour Rudiger, was of West Indian extraction, but his speech pattern more closely resembled a standard Received Pronunciation British accent than a Caribbean creole. He was fairly tall at perhaps six foot one inch, and was of a thin frame. He favored a tan buckskin outfit rather reminiscent of the frontiersmen of early 19^th century North America, but he also wore a shark tooth necklace which fell in line more with his native culture. His long dark dreadlocks dangled well past his shoulder blades, and his eyes could be described as mesmerizing – a light brownish-hazel, with a hint of green to them.

“Good afternoon,” greeted the professor. “My name is Seymour Rudiger, and I am your Charms instructor. I’m also the head of Pukwudgie house…” The Pukwudgie students in the classroom stood up and cheered in approval, before Rudiger politely waved them back down. “And I also teach Obeah, which is an elective course.”

Othniel raised his hand. “Erm, Professor? Is Obeah like Voodoo?”

Professor Rudiger smiled. “Ahh, that’s a good question, young man. There are similarities between Obeah, and other Afro-Caribbean spellcasting traditions such as Voodoo and Santeria, but a prime difference is that Obeah is not inherently spiritual – there are no central deities that we worship, for example… at any rate, this is Charms, which is changing the properties of a particular object. This is often confused with Transfiguration, which is a distantly-related discipline of magic – that is making an object something different altogether.”

The actual class was rather mundane, as they didn’t actually practice any spells, but they did go over wand grips and movements and other such fundamentals as Rudiger wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page first. He assured them that it would not be long before they would attempt their first spells, but not before assigning them nearly fifty pages to read along with a three-page essay that would be due in exactly one week’s time.

“Do you have a favorite class so far?” Tallulah asked Harry and Othniel as they left Charms. “We’ve had all of our core classes so far – except for flying – and right now Charms and Transfiguration stand out.”

“I’unno,” replied Othniel. ‘They both seem awful hard… we got a mountain of homework for just those two classes alone… at least Professor Esposito gives us tasty snacks for History, so that gets my vote.”

“It’s too soon to tell,” added Harry, “but so far, I think Defense seems promising… but maybe that’s only because Professor Lupin is pretty interested in me. He wants to see me later this week.”

Tallulah nodded. “He sure seems to know you, Harry. He’s British, and you were born there, so if I put two and two together, he probably knew your family back in the day.”

“Yeah, he was friends with my parents, my uncle, and my godfather,” Harry confirmed. “I don’t recall either Sirius or Uncle Roger talking much about him – shoot, they didn’t really talk about my parents either.”

“How does that make you feel, Harry?” asked Othniel. “Do you feel like they, I’unno, owe you an explanation or something?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know how I feel about that. I’ve already talked to Ana about this a little bit last night after dinner, and it sounds like Professor Lupin may tell me a bit more about my past because it’s likely that Uncle Roger and Sirius know a lot more than they’ve ever told me… I’m eleven years old, and I think I deserve to know some things, like the name of the dark wizard that killed my parents, for example.”

“I don’t know your family, Harry,” cooed Tallulah, “but from what you’re implying, your uncle and godfather both care about you deeply, and only want to protect you.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Look, I’m not even going to pretend that I’m an expert on British wizarding history, but I have heard of stories of a British mage so dark and feared that even speaking his name is taboo.”

Harry co*cked his head. “What else do you know about him? And how did you find out about him?”

“Just stories I’ve heard while getting a butterbeer with my parents as the Cracked Phial when shopping at Nessel Road,” Tallulah said, her voice getting ever-softer. “I’ve never heard his real name, but they called him something along the lines of ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ or some-such. He was dark, but charismatic – he attracted a loyal following of witches and wizards called Death Eaters that were fearsome in their own right.”

“And apparently I’m called the Boy-Who-Lived because he cast a deadly spell on me that backfired and destroyed him instead,” whispered Harry as he quickly swept a hand over his lightning bolt-shaped scar. “If he was defeated, why are people still afraid to speak his name?”

“Because that’s exactly it – he was defeated, and not truly destroyed,” answered Tallulah with a slight shudder in her voice. “His incorporeal presence still persists… there are very dark, very powerful means to bring him back to life, that are way beyond our level of understanding.” Her face went pallid. “I really, really hope he never comes back in physical form… that may very well spell the end of the world as we know it… magical, no-maj – it doesn’t matter!”

Harry swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Elder Gomer – the really old, creepy wizard that gave us our wands – said that there’s this incredibly powerful wand… he called it an orb… if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or one of his Death Eaters get their hands on it, he could return to power and annihilate our world.”

“Yes, something like that could bring him back to physical form,” agreed Tallulah. “I’ve never heard of such an object, but if Elder Gomer told you about it, then I have no doubt that it exists somewhere… and the dark side covets it.”

“I’m going to find that Orb one day, and I’ll destroy it,” Harry promised. “I can’t risk it falling in the wrong hands. If it’s as powerful as I’m told, then I don’t think it’s meant to be used by either the Light or the Dark…”

“Now don’t get ahead of yourself, Harry,” admonished Tallulah. “I admire your ambition, but don’t let it become your obsession… after all, someone wiser than me once said that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” She let out a small sigh. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do… I just want you to be careful, is all.”

***

That evening, Harry sat across from Ana at the Horned Serpent table at dinner. He hadn’t really talked to her much that day, as they didn’t have any shared free periods that day, and she spent time with her other friends during breakfast and lunch.

“Oh, hiya Harry! How are you today?” she asked, her face aglow.

“Can’t complain, I s’pose,” replied Harry. “You seem to be in a particularly good mood today. What’s going on?”

Ana couldn’t help but giggle. “Nothing special… I just signed up for the pen pal program earlier today. There’s quite a few wizarding schools around the world, so I can’t help but wonder who I’ll be writing to…”

Harry scrunched his face in confusion. “Pen pal program?”

“Oh goodness, Harry, haven’t you read the daily bulletin yet?” Ana said, shaking her head.

Harry’s cheeks glowed pink with embarrassment. “I did, but I must have missed that part.”

Ana put a hand over her mouth, not fully able to stifle her giggles. “I don’t know how in Merlin’s name you could have missed that, you goofball. It was in big, bold letters too!” She gave him a small, playful shove.

“I don’t know,” sighed Harry. “I guess I really skimmed through it more than actually read through it.” He cracked a grin. “So, d’you have a preference? Like what school? A boy or a girl?”

“A witch from Hogwarts,” Ana replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I mean, I’d be happy no matter whom I get paired with, but there’s just something about Hogwarts that stands out to me.” She had a small, wistful smile. “Part of me wishes I was a Hogwarts witch. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ilvermorny, but Hogwarts is just so steeped in tradition, it has this… mystique, if you will, that Ilvermorny or any other wizarding school just doesn’t have.”

Harry beamed. “I’m a Hogwarts legacy, as my parents, my godfather, and my uncle all went there. I could have gone there as well, but my family wanted me to stay here in North America.” He co*cked his head. “So, when are you going to find out?”

Ana hummed a little ditty. “Hopefully by the end of the week. Now, from what I gather, Hogwarts is a much more cliquish place than Ilvermorny… they don’t have nearly the same degree of interhouse harmony that we do here, so I’m sure that there will be things about our school that are going to be a foreign concept to our British friends. There’s a house that sort of marches to the beat of its own drum… Slytherin, if memory serves. They do have a bit of a reputation for being the house that grooms some of the darker witches and wizards, but I’d imagine there’s plenty of good ones too.”

“I’ll bet He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a… Slytherin,” Harry surmised.

Ana’s face contorted in confusion. “Huh?”

Harry grimaced. “Oh, erm, I talked with Tallulah earlier in the common room, and she told me that she’s heard stories about the dark sorcerer that killed my parents. They’re so afraid of him that they call him things like ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ or some-such.”

Ana shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you, Harry. I haven’t had read any books on British wizarding history, though I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity.” She flashed a warm smile. “Even if I end up having a Slytherin pen pal, I’m sure they’d still be a lot of fun to write to. After all, it’s strictly voluntary – they wouldn’t bother signing up if they didn’t want to get to know someone of a different background than themselves!”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “So how do you know about the Hogwarts houses then?”

Ana again struggled to stifle a giggle. “Let’s just say that there’s a certain English witch in our house with connections.” She smiled sweetly at her friend. “How are your classes treating you so far?”

“I’unno,” replied Harry. “Monday’s classes were fine, but Potions, Transfiguration and Charms seem a bit tougher.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Ana said. “Madam L is a grumpy old cuss, but a lot can go wrong in Potions if you’re not careful. She’s been lobbying to have Potions start at second or even third year because a lot of younger students just don’t have the focus or maturity to handle even the simplest of elixirs. And frankly, I think she has a point. Without fail, inattentive firsties have to take a trip to the infirmary every term… yes, she may berate students for not doing as they’re told, but she also takes their mistakes very personally as she’s responsible for everything that happens in her laboratory.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait, so she doesn’t actually hate us?”

Ana shook her head and smiled again. “Not at all. She doesn’t show it outwardly often, but she does actually care about her students.”

“If she really cared about us, she wouldn’t give us an ungodly amount of homework on the first day of class,” scoffed Harry. “Maybe tonight… in the library, we can go over Potions together? I probably could use the help.”

Ana’s smile broadened. “All you have to do is ask. I have some schoolwork to do myself after dinner, but I should be able to lend a hand this evening. How does eight o’clock sound?”

Harry returned the smile. “That works for me.”

“Great,” replied Ana. “You might want to invite your firstie friends. By the looks of it, Tallulah can handle herself in the classroom, but I don’t think she’d turn down the chance to study with some friends – especially one that’s already gotten through first year. And bless it, poor Othniel needs all the help he can get… you and Tallulah are going to have to get on to him when I’m not around because he’s going to fall behind otherwise, I’m afraid.”

“I think if he applies himself, he could actually be a pretty good student,” noted Harry. “He’s not an idiot… just a little unmotivated. Good gravy, it’s a chore just getting him out of bed in the morning!”

“You’re a good friend, Harry,” Ana said. “And you’re right, he’s not unintelligent at all. He just doesn’t have the spark to get things done, and he needs someone like you to give him a little kick every now and then to get going. It’s not right or wrong… drive and discipline just aren’t in his DNA. He’ll prove his worth in other ways, though.”

Chapter 17: Learning to Fly

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harry double-checked his schedule during breakfast. “It looks like we have a flying class after lunch,” he stated. “It appears to be just once a week… I wonder what that’s going to be like.”

“Mister Croom is the flying coach,” explained Ana. “You can’t do much better – he was a professional quidditch player quite a few years ago. I think he played as a beater.”

Tallulah shuddered. “Do we really have to learn how to fly? That kinda scares me… I don’t like heights very much.”

“It’s mandatory for firsties,” Ana clarified. She looked at Tallulah with a warm, knowing expression. “I was a little nervous at first too, but Coach Croom is patient and understanding. He won’t set you up for failure. If I can learn how to fly on a broom, you can too.” A small smile crept on Tallulah’s lips.

“Oh, and thank you for going with us to the library and helping us with Potions last night,” added Harry. “I’m glad we have someone that knows what they’re doing.”

“It’s my pleasure,” replied Ana with a smile. “I don’t see why we can’t make this a regular thing… OTHNIEL!”

Othniel, his face almost literally buried in his breakfast, looked up to give Ana an indignant expression. “What?!”

Ana groaned. “Your table manners are atrocious… haven’t your parents taught you any better?”

Othniel rolled his eyes. “Sorry.” Bits of oatmeal dribbled down his chin.

“Some people’s children,” Ana muttered under her breath. She shook her head and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Your friend’s something else, Harry… you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Harry could only shrug in response.

A few minutes later, the children gathered their things and began to make their way to their respective classes.

Herbology and History of Magic flew by, and before anyone knew it, it was lunch time. Tallulah could feel the butterflies in her stomach – she barely touched her chicken salad sandwich.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to Harry and Othniel.

“Ana said that you’re capable of learning how to fly,” Othniel replied. “I don’t think she would have said that if she didn’t mean it.”

“We got your back. We won’t let anything happen to you,” added Harry.

Tallulah threw Harry a hopeful expression. “You promise?”

Harry smirked as he nodded. “I promise.” He motioned with his head. “C’mon, we’ve got Defense next, then we can worry about flying.”

Defense Against the Dark Arts was particularly enthralling that afternoon. Professor Lupin described the sasquatch in great detail – the legendary ape-man that wandered the temperate North American forests. What a lot of students didn’t realize was that the sasquatch had certain innate magical resistances – particularly to elemental magic, which made it a formidable foe when angered.

Despite its fearsome reputation, the sasquatch was neither a predator, nor aggressive by nature. It usually sustained itself by consuming wild puckerberries and honey, and lived in small tribes of eight to fifteen members. Its keen sense of smell can detect danger from miles away, thus giving it ample warning to retreat to their secluded dwellings, which were nearly indetectable even with magic. Its fur could change color to blend in with its surroundings – normally it was a rich, earthy brown, but it could turn various shades of grey or even white in a snowy environment.

It was also at odds with an even rarer being – the monstrous two-headed ettin. Lupin barely scratched the surface regarding the ettin, which was apparently related to the equally loathsome mountain trolls native to Europe and Western Asia. “We will go over the ettin later in the term – I promise it’ll be worth the wait,” he chuckled, despite the disappointed groans coming from his students.

As he dismissed the class, he nodded toward Harry. “Don’t forget about tomorrow afternoon, Harry. I hope you’ll have some questions ready for me… I’ll answer what I can.”

Harry nodded. “I do, Professor. I’ll see you then!” He quickly waved goodbye to Lupin and joined Othniel and Tallulah as they made their way toward the proving grounds.

“How’re you feeling, Tallulah?” asked Othniel with sincerity. “Harry and I aren’t leaving your side, y’know.”

Tallulah simply shrugged. “I’m still a little nervous, I guess… don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you and Harry are looking out for me, and Coach Croom will be there – I can’t help but think of all the things that can go wrong!”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten killed in a flying class before,” replied Othniel, which prompted a quick elbow to the ribs from Harry. “Hey!”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” assured Harry. “He’s not going to let us fly high or fast or anything… baby steps.”

“I hope so,” Tallulah said, her voice quavering somewhat. “I’m just ready for this to be over with more than anything.”

The children knew they were close to the proving grounds as they heard a loud, sharp voice coming from that direction. “All right, all right, all right. Thunderbirds – y’all find a broom in this line; Horned Serpents – y’all find a broom in that line.” They were soon able to match a face to the voice – Coach Croom, they figured. He was tall, muscular man in a long black trenchcoat and felt Stetson hat, and like Mister Floyd, had a naturally loud voice that rarely needed the assistance of an amplification charm. He had a distinct Southern drawl, most likely from the western periphery of the American South… likely Texas, or possibly Arkansas, thought Tallulah. He had greying stubble on his chin, and his long greyish-brown locks hung in thin strands past his chin. His eyes were very dark brown – almost black – and had well-defined cheekbones, indicating he may have had at least a little Indigenous American ancestry.

“Hustle up,” Croom drawled. “We ain’t got all afternoon.”

The three children got in the Horned Serpent line; Harry and Othniel let Tallulah take the spot between them so that at least one of them could assist her at a moment’s notice. Three beefy Thunderbird boys lined up directly across from them; the middle boy was almost unnaturally large for his age as he was close to six feet tall and two hundred pounds. The boys who flanked him were large in their own right – certainly much larger than Harry, Othniel, or Tallulah, but the middle boy was still nearly a half-head taller than either of them.

Croom gave his charges a minute or so to finish lining up, before he began to take attendance from a list on what appeared to be some sort of clipboard. When he finished calling roll, he nodded once in satisfaction before addressing the students once more. “Nobody touch these brooms until I say so,” he said as he walked between the flanks of students.

When he returned to the front, he placed his personal broomstick on the ground. “The first lesson to flying, is the summoning technique. You hold your hand out – like so,” he said, stretching his right hand out as if trying to grasp something, “and say up.” The broom shot up to his outstretched hand, rather like how one magnetized piece of metal attracts another. “The trick is to say it like you mean it. Show ‘em who’s boss. They don’t respond real well to mumbling.”

He grabbed the silver whistle hanging around his neck. “Now y’all give it a shot. Wait for my count, and I’ll blow the whistle. Three, two, one…” He placed the silver whistle in his mouth, and blew into it, creating a shrill, piercing tweeeet.

Harry closed his eyes, and stretched out his hand. “Up,” he said in a clear, confident voice. When he opened his eyes, the broomstick had magically appeared in his hand!

“Up,” yelped Othniel. The broom flopped around a few times, but didn’t come anywhere close to his hand. “Arrgh,” he groaned. “Up,” he repeated, this time a bit more forcefully. Again, the broom flopped and rolled around but didn’t seem to fully trust Othniel. He kicked at the grass in frustration, and the three Thunderbird boys across from him began to point at him and laugh.

“Up,” Tallulah cried out, her hand fully stretched out. Nothing. “Up!” Not even a wiggle. She turned toward Harry. “What’s wrong with me, Harry? It won’t even budge!”

“I’m not completely sure,” replied Harry. “But I want to say that these brooms are enchanted in such a way that you really have to want it. Your broom wants to be summoned by someone who’s confident… your ‘ups’ sounded a little, I’unno, unsure, if that makes sense.”

Tallulah nodded, and tried again. “Up!” she called out, perhaps a little more firmly than before. The broom rolled a little on the ground. “At least I got it to move a bit this time,” she said with a shrug.

“True… just keep at it. Persistence pays off,” Harry advised. “Once you get it, it’ll be much easier the next time.”

Meanwhile, Othniel kept trying to summon his broom. He got it to levitate a few inches off the ground, but still not quite reaching his hand. His face started turning purple with frustration. “UP!” he yelled once again, in a voice that sounded like he was ready to use the broom for firewood. The broom seemed to detect his tone, and bolted straight for his groin, causing him to double over in pain. The three big Thunderbird boys had their hands on their knees, howling with laughter.

Tallulah was getting a little flustered herself. Although she was getting the broom to wiggle, it would not come anywhere close to her hand. She reached inside the front of her collared golf shirt, and produced the same jade amulet that she wore when she got sorted. She held it in her left hand, and whispered the inscription on it to herself just as she did a few nights earlier. She felt her anxiety melting away, and a minute later, tried to summon her broom again. “Up!” This was the most confident she had sounded all afternoon, and just like that, the broom levitated to her hand.

“Awesome, Tallulah!” exclaimed Harry. “I knew you could do it.” He arched an eyebrow. “Is that like a worry stone, or something?”

Tallulah nodded. “Yeah, it’s something like that. My great-grandmother gave it to me when I was really little. She’s part Choctaw Indian. She told me that if I ever get really, really afraid or nervous, that I can just hold the stone and read the inscription to myself, and it’ll help calm me down.”

“It sure seems to have helped,” replied Harry. “Is it an enchanted stone, or do you know?”

Tallulah shrugged. “I’unno… maybe? She never really gave me a straight answer… she never struck me as being, well, magical, but there’s probably loads of things she hasn’t told me.” From out of nowhere, a large hand reached over and snatched Tallulah’s jade amulet from her hand. “Hey! Give that back!” she demanded.

The largest of the three Thunderbirds just smirked at Tallulah. “Let’s see how well you do without your fancy little stone,” he jeered.

Tears began to well in Tallulah’s eyes. “Please give it back… my great-grandmother gave that to me – it’s my most prized possession.”

The hulking lad’s eyes shifted to his two toadies. “Whaddya say, Bungus and Madigan? Should we give the little baby her passy back?” He flashed a devious grin.

“Maybe after we’ve had a bit of fun with it, Flynn,” said Philip Bungus, the boy to the right of the leader.

The largest of the three smirked and nodded at Bungus. “My thoughts exactly,” he chuckled. “Maybe a game of hide-and-go-seek? Maybe we can toss it in Morrigan Forest for her to find…” His eyebrows wiggled at Tallulah. “… or perhaps in the Shrouded Lake.”

The tears began streaming down Tallulah’s cheeks. “I beg you, please… I just want my necklace back. It means the world to me.”

Harry could see the anguish in Tallulah’s amber eyes. He felt obligated to do something, but he wasn’t sure. He was nowhere near the size of the three Thunderbird boys, so he’d likely get beaten to a pulp if he tried to defend her physically. Even if Othniel backed him up, the result would not be pretty. He looked again at his distraught friend, and against his better judgement, he bit his lip, and turned to face the gang directly across from him.

“Give it back already,” he demanded. “She’s already asked you nicely – twice, in fact.”

“Stay out of this, scar-head,” sneered the largest Thunderbird. “This don’t concern you none.”

Harry took a couple of steps toward the bullies. “Actually, I think it does. She’s my friend, and if you disrespect her, you’re also disrespecting me. I’m not going to ask you again… give it back.”

The Thunderbird leader stepped forward toward Harry, fully expecting to use his enormous frame to intimidate the smaller boy. He thrust a finger at Harry’s chest. “And whaddya gonna do about it, scar-head?” He smirked at Harry. “You, ah, fixin’ to take on all of us?”

“You don’t want a piece of me,” Harry shot back. “I may be small, but I’m full of surprises.”

The gang leader just crossed his arms on his chest, clearly unimpressed with Harry’s bravado. “What’s your name, pipsqueak?”

“I’m Harry Potter,” spat Harry. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re beginning to annoy me, Potter,” replied the leader. “You’re going to regret this day… the day you’ve made an enemy out of Flynn Replogle.”

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” shrieked Tallulah, whose cheeks were still damp. “That’s enough, you two! I don’t want anyone to get in trouble over this… Harry, just… forget it… I guess it’s not worth it.” The Thunderbird gang smirked to themselves in satisfaction, knowing they’ve all but broken the girl’s will.

Harry could just hear the sound of defeat dripping from his friend's words, which only strengthened his resolve. He wasn’t going to concede just yet – if he was going to go down, he had to go down swinging. He again approached the leader, and looked up into his eyes. “Give. It. Back,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

Replogle sneered at Harry. “If nothing else, scar-head, you’ve got moxie,” he admitted. “Tell you what. If you want her precious little toy so bad, you can have it.” He appeared to hand the amulet back to Harry, but he jerked his hand back up at the last second, and flung it as forcefully as he could toward the castle. “You’re her loyal lapdog, so go fetch it!” He and his cronies snickered to themselves, while Harry threw them a sharp glare.

“Up!” barked Harry, as he summoned his broomstick. He never rode a broom before, but he was going to give it a try regardless. Here goes nothing, he thought. He stomped on the ground with both his hiking boots, and his broom began to shoot up in the air. He pointed his broom in the direction of the hurtling amulet, and took off as quickly as he could. He wasn’t completely sure what he was doing, but he also wasn’t going to let those brutes win, either.

His act caught the attention of the other students, who gasped and pointed at Harry. Croom did a double-take when he was Harry in the air, but when he realized what was happening, began yelling at the lad to come back. “Hey! HEY! What are you doing, boy? I didn’t tell you to kick off yet! Get back here pronto! What’s the matter with you?” He threw his Stetson hat on the ground in frustration as it was apparent Harry wasn’t interested in paying attention to the flying coach.

Harry’s broom sped toward the green amulet, and just as Tallulah’s most prized possession was about to get lost in some bushes, he reached out and snatched it just inches short of the leafy trap. Unfortunately, he lost control of his broom by this point, and tumbled into the bushes as the broom fell to the ground. He was able to hang on to the amulet even as he felt the sharp needles pierce through his uniform.

A couple of minutes later, he emerged from the shrubbery scratched up and sore, but otherwise no worse for the wear. He took a second to dust himself off, but as soon as he rose to his full height, he felt a massive hand grasp his shoulder. He spun around and practically jumped at the sight of the school caretaker, Mister Floyd. Harry wasn’t sure if he witnessed the entirety of the incident, but he certainly saw enough.

“Young man,” drawled Mister Floyd in a surprisingly soft, calm voice. “Would you mind explaining to me what happened here?”

Harry swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. “Well sir, three large Thunderbirds were bullying my friend in our flying class, and I was trying to retrieve what rightfully belongs to her.”

Floyd nodded. “I admire your principles, son, but I want you to be aware of the fact that you still broke the school rules. I’m sure Mister Croom already told you not to try anything on your own. I’ll need for you to come with me.”

Harry hung his head in shame. “I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Floyd nodded again. “The rules are in place for a reason… you’re lucky you’re not seriously hurt. You could have broken an arm… or your neck!”

Harry felt the sting of tears, but he swore to himself that he would not let them spill. “How much trouble am I going to be in?” he asked the caretaker.

“That, young man, is up to your head of house,” replied Floyd. “Students have gotten expelled in the past for defiance and recklessness…”

Harry gulped. He had been at school less than a week, and now he was facing the possibility of expulsion. Uncle Roger and Padfoot are never going to let me hear the end of it, he thought in despair.

A few minutes later, Harry found himself back inside the castle, near the main Herbology classroom. Professor Frye’s office was right next door to the classroom, and Floyd pointed to a small bench directly across from the office door. “Wait here,” he instructed. “Professor Frye will call for you shortly.” With that, he did an about-face and returned to his regular caretaking duties.

Chapter 18: A Visit to the Infirmary

Chapter Text

“Mister Potter?”

Harry gulped when he heard the office door creak open, and Professor Frye call for him. The wait had been nothing short of agonizing – it was perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, but it felt like three hours. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow, and his breathing became more shallow and rapid. He slowly stood to his feet, his hand tensing up as he took slow, deliberate steps toward his head of house’s office.

Professor Frye was seated behind her desk, shuffling a stack of papers. She cleared her throat. “Have a seat, young man.” She gestured toward a brown plush armchair near the doorway. Harry tentatively sat down, unable to find the will to look the professor in the eye.

She clasped her hands and shook her head. “I have it on good authority that you deliberately defied the flying coach, and took off on your broom without permission. What are we going to do with you, Potter?” Although her expression was quite impassive, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if she was masking feelings of irritation.

Once again, Harry felt the rush of guilt and shame, and let his head hang down. “I was just trying to defend my friend, Professor. I… I don’t know what came over me. I guess it was my instincts kicking in, but maybe I should have stopped to think first.”

Frye nodded. “I have also heard that you successfully defended your friend Miss Slater’s honor.” The corners of her lips tugged upward into the faintest of smiles. “If you would be so kind as to hand me her property, I will ensure that she gets it back before the day is over.” Harry dug into his trouser pocket, and handed the necklace to Frye.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re not… going to get me thrown out of school, are you?”

“Not today,” replied Frye in a soft voice. “While you failed to observe school protocol, there is no denying that your heart was in the right place. As far as the three Thunderbird miscreants are concerned, Professor Goode will handle that as she is also their head of house. Rest assured, you will not be the only one that’ll be penalized.” Her face hardened, and lowered her voice to a stern-sounding creak. “I cannot overemphasize how important following the rules are… they are in place for your protection, Potter. You will do well to remember that. You very easily could have ended up in the infirmary…”

Harry looked away for a split second, and pulled out a thorn from just behind his collar. He was about to toss it in the rubbish bin, before Frye stopped him. “Potter, wait. Let me see that, just to be safe.” Harry handed the professor the needle-like leaf, who retrieved it with something that resembled a large pair of tweezers. She held it just a few inches in front of her face, and hummed as if confirming her suspicions.

“Deimotoxos agassizesnsis, or to the layperson, Hobgoblin’s scourge,” she murmured.

“Is that… bad?” gulped Harry.

“It is rather toxic, yes,” she replied with a nod. “If left untreated, your torso and upper arms will be covered with purple pockmarks come morning.” She barely stifled a chuckle. “Too bad we don’t go over that particular species until second year; otherwise you’d have steered clear of the verge!”

Harry let out a groan of dismay.

“Don’t worry, Mister Potter,” she said softly. “It’s easily treatable. Madam Romero can give you a potion, and you’ll be no worse for the wear.” Once again, her eyebrows furrowed, and her nostrils flared the tiniest bit. “Before we pay the good medic a visit, we must discuss the matter of the penalty for breaking rules. Methinks five demerits should do the trick…”

Harry hung his head again. “That’s an automatic detention, isn’t it?”

“Correct,” replied Frye. “The details regarding your upcoming detention will be owled to you later on.” Her expression softened once more. “That being said, I am still quite proud of you. You clearly have a strong moral compass, and Miss Slater is fortunate to have someone like you looking out for her.” She flashed a warm smile. “I know you’re a good student, Mister Potter. I consider myself fortunate to have you in my house, and Professor Fontaine feels the same about you being enrolled at Ilvermorny. You’re a Hogwarts legacy, after all, and many of us are surprised you chose us.”

Her expression brightened. “Even though you disregarded school rules, what’s fair is fair… your courage and integrity should also be commended. Five points to the Horned Serpents.”

Harry’s shameful expression turned to one of shock. “Wow, Professor. I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you.”

“And I thank you for going after the necklace,” replied Frye. She wagged a finger to gently admonish her pupil. “Please be more careful going forward, all right? If you don’t think you can resolve a conflict without resorting to breaking rules, then you should defer to a faculty member. Nine times out of ten, that’s the most reasonable way to resolve an issue, anyway.”

“Fair enough, Professor,” Harry said with a nod. “Thanks, erm… for giving me another chance.”

“I think you’re beginning to find out,” purred Frye, “that many of the lessons you’ll learn at Ilvermorny happen outside the classroom. I encourage you to be yourself, Mister Potter, but at the same time I also encourage you to be prudent. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” She then stood up from her desk, and gestured for Harry to do the same. “I suppose it’s time we paid Madam Romero a visit. This should take just a few minutes at the most.”

Harry followed Frye to the infirmary. Although it was located on the first floor, it was on the total opposite side of the castle. To Harry’s dismay, there were no shortcuts – just corridor after corridor. A sigh of relief escaped Harry’s lips when he heard his house head point to her right. “In here.”

Harry stepped inside what resembled a waiting room in a Muggle medical or dental clinic. There were perhaps three dozen simple padded seats that were assembled in groups of four or five, and small coffee tables with stacks of various periodicals interspersed between the clusters of seats. At the rear of the room was a window, which Harry assumed was to check in ill or injured students.

A middle-aged Black witch with short greying hair from behind the counter greeted Harry and Professor Frye. “Good afternoon, Leigh Ellen. How are you doing today?”

“Good afternoon, Shannon,” replied Frye. “I’m afraid that young Mister Potter here has gotten tangled up in some Hobgoblin’s scourge earlier today. Hopefully Madam Romero has some antidote on hand.”

Shannon nodded. “Of course. She has been busy this afternoon – apparently several third-year students thought it amusing to curse each other with nasty boils this morning – but she should be able to squeeze a few minutes.” She looked at Harry. “All right, young man. I’ll need for you to fill this form out and return it to me… don’t worry, it should take just a couple of minutes.” She handed Harry a clipboard with a parchment and quill. “In the meantime, feel free to take a seat anywhere in the waiting room.”

Harry nodded in appreciation, and took the clipboard and quill. He took a seat near the middle of the waiting room, and filled it out thusly:

Name (Last, First, Middle Initial): Potter, Harry J.

Year: First

House: Horned Serpents

Malady: Hobgoblin’s scourge

Date of illness/incident: 4 September 1991

Other notes (if applicable):

He turned to Professor Frye. “Do I need to add anything else?” He handed her the clipboard for her to review. She quickly scanned it, and shook her head ‘no’. She handed the clipboard back to Harry, and he took it to the receptionist’s window.

“Thank you, young man,” Shannon murmured. “We’ll let you know when she’s ready to see you.” Harry breathed a quick ‘thanks’ before returning to his seat next to his house head. He grabbed the stack of magazines from the table in front of him, hoping to find something that piqued his interest. The Witch Scout Waypoint, Naturally (which apparently was a publication for shamans and druids), and then there was Quidditch Quarterly.

Harry had heard of quidditch before – that Rickey boy mentioned it on the Chinook just a few days ago – but other than the fact that it was a game that involved broomsticks, he didn’t know the first thing about it. He initially ignored the articles; the moving pictures was what captivated him more than anything. This game is a little bit like ice hockey, he thought to himself. The moving photo of the Fargo Freeze keeper leaning on his back while grabbing a large ball mere inches from one of the hoops was more impressive than any hockey goalie save he’d ever seen. He flipped a few pages, and grinned at the moving photo of the Boise Balrogs’ seeker performing a somersault while snatching a fluttering golden ball that somewhat resembled a golf ball with wings.

Quidditch looks awesome, he thought to himself. He busied himself by thumbing through the magazine, completely mesmerized by the lightning-quick action that was captured in every photo. He even began reading an article about rookie seeker Prometheus Ledbetter, who just last year was the Horned Serpent team captain. About halfway through, he was jarred back to reality when he heard his name called from the receptionist window: “Potter, Harry.”

Harry set the magazine down, and approached the receptionist window once again. Shannon pointed to her right. “Through that door, down the hall, third door to your right.”

Harry thanked the receptionist before proceeding to the exam room as instructed. Professor Frye followed him, and gestured for him to take the seat in the corner of the room, opposite from her end. It wasn’t a long wait, and Harry heard some voices from the hallway – one of them had to be Madam Romero, he thought.

His hunch was correct, as just a few seconds later, a woman of about thirty-five entered the room. She was taller and slimmer than Frye, and had voluminous raven hair that reached halfway down her back. Her complexion was a creamy caramel, and had almond-shaped brown eyes that looked maybe a little large for her face, though not excessively so.

“Good afternoon, Mister Potter,” she greeted in a soft lilt. She then nodded toward Frye. “Good afternoon to you as well, Leigh Ellen.”

“Good afternoon, Natalya,” replied Frye. She gestured toward Harry. “Mister Potter here got tangled up in some Hobgoblin’s scourge earlier today, and I’m hoping you have something on hand you can administer him so he doesn’t wake up with any nasty blotches tomorrow morning.”

Madam Romero nodded. “I should have something on hand. Just a moment please.” She turned around and reached up toward a row of cabinets above her head. She opened one of the little wooden doors, and produced a thin glass phial with a rubber stopper; it was just about half full with a transparent, faint yellow liquid.

She pulled the stopper and handed it to Harry. “You’ll need to down that in one gulp,” she advised. “It’s very sour, I’m afraid, but it’s just twenty milliliters. Barely more than a tablespoon.”

Harry nodded, and took the vial from Madam Romero. He closed his eyes, swallowed the antidote, and shook his head quickly several times as it was about as tart as lemon juice. “All done,” he coughed out as he handed the empty tube back to the medic.

“Very good,” she replied. “Thank you for not messing around, and taking it as directed.” She made a slight groan. “Some students don’t take our directions seriously, and without fail they always end up regretting it.”

Harry nodded. “Is that all, then? Am I good to go?”

“You’re good to go,” confirmed Romero. “You might want to eat a little more lightly than usual tonight, as eating a heavy meal shortly after consuming the antidote could upset your stomach.”

“So, like a sandwich or something?” asked Harry.

Romero shrugged. “A sandwich is okay. If they’re serving a thick stew or prime rib or something, you can eat some, just don’t eat all of it. And to be safe, you’ll want to skip the dessert.”

Before Harry could utter a syllable of complaint, Frye cut him off. “It’s just a one-time thing, Mister Potter. If you have a hankering for something sweet, I’m sure a modest serving of fruit would work.” Romero nodded in agreement. “Come on, let’s get you back upstairs to the Horned Serpent tower. You might want to rest up for a bit before dinner; you can re-join your friends then.”

***

Harry re-joined his friends at the Horned Serpent table, where he had a simple dinner of a turkey sandwich, carrot sticks, and fresh berries. He tried hard to suppress his grin during the meal.

“So I heard you got into a bit of trouble during your flying lesson today, Harry,” Ana began, pointing a fork in his general direction. “What all happened, if you don’t mind my asking?

“I found Tallulah’s amulet after three Thunderbird bullies tried to intimidate us,” Harry responded with pride. He winked at Tallulah. “Professor Frye said she’ll have it owled to you soon.”

“Oh, thank you Harry,” replied Tallulah appreciatively. “I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble over it. Coach Croom sure enough pitched a fit!”

Harry shrugged. “I got five demerits for breaking the rules… but I also got us five house points for standing up to those jerks, so it kinda balanced out I guess.”

“You still have an upcoming detention,” Tallulah pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very, very grateful you stuck up for me, but in hindsight, was it really worth it?”

Harry gave Tallulah a sincere look. “I don’t regret it. I wasn’t going to let them get away with it… besides, Professor Frye assured me that they’ll be penalized for their actions as well.” He bit his lip. “Oh, and I got stuck by some toxic shrubs while trying to retrieve your amulet. I had to visit Madam Romero in the infirmary not long after that.”

Tallulah and Othniel winced, but Ana just arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess… Deimotoxos agassizensis?”

Harry nodded, while Tallulah and Othniel just gave Ana blank expressions. Ana sighed. “Hobgoblin’s scourge?” Tallulah and Othniel just shook their heads, bewildered.

“That’s the one… according to Professor Frye, we don’t actually study the plant until second year,” clarified Harry. “I wish I had known that when I came tumbling down off the broom… they looked harmless from thirty feet above! Anyway, I got a couple of thorns lodged in me… one near my shoulder and another on my chest. The toxins apparently can make little purple splotches on my body overnight if I don’t take an antidote, which thankfully they had at the infirmary.”

“What was the antidote like?” asked Othniel.

Harry shuddered. “It was really, really sour. Like, if you added battery acid to lemon juice kind of sour. Thankfully I didn’t have to drink very much of it, like a tablespoon’s worth. I’m just glad it wasn’t like a whole bottle or anything.”

“The antidote is derived from puckerberries,” Ana said matter-of-factly. She smiled sweetly. “The very same fruit used to make the juice we drink with our meals! Of course, the juice is sweetened considerably… the antidote is far less adulterated.”

“Nerd,” replied Othniel, unable to resist rolling his eyes. Tallulah swatted him on the elbow.

“You’ll do well to remember that this nerd’s also going to make sure you get halfway decent marks in all your classes,” Ana admonished gently. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

“We’ll see,” grumbled Othniel. He threw his napkin on his plate and began gathering his things.

“So, do you three want to meet me in the library again for another study sesh this evening? Is eight o’clock alright again?” Ana offered.

“Works for me,” replied Harry. “We’ll see you then!”

Chapter 19: Revelations

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up the next morning, to his relief, he found no indication of any purplish markings anywhere on his body. He and Othniel bolted out of the Horned Serpent tower as quickly as they could and made it to the proving grounds with several minutes to spare. Tallulah soon caught up to Harry and Othniel on the way to the field, and she couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear as she had her special amulet back in her possession.

It was calisthenics day, and Missy directed her charges to alternate between short series of push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, and squats. Harry was used to these due to his ice hockey practices, but to his shock, Othniel hardly broke a sweat. “You’ve got some pep in your step today, dude,” Harry told his friend. “You’ve got some pretty good form, to boot!”

“I’m s’pose I’m all right at push-ups and sit-ups and stuff,” admitted Othniel. “But I’ve got nothing on my older brother Gabe. He set the record for number of consecutive sit-ups at his middle school last year… he’s unreal!”

“How many did he do?” asked Harry.

“Sixteen hundred and something… I forget the exact number, but he did it in just under a half hour too,” replied Othniel. Harry just whistled in amazement.

Othniel turned to Tallulah. “Hey, Tallulah,” he said in a surprisingly kind and helpful tone. “D’you mind if I help you out with your pushups? They look a little weird.”

“Okay,” wheezed Tallulah, who was clearly out of her element. “If you say so.”

“Your back is a little hunched,” he observed. “D’you mind if I place my hand flat on your back? I promise I won’t try anything funny.”

Tallulah sighed. “Okay, Othniel,” she agreed with some reluctance. “Do what you need to do.”

Othniel gently placed one of his hands flat on Tallulah’s back. “Okay, Tallulah,” he said softly. “I want you to try again – try to pretend my hand’s not even there.”

She pushed herself off the ground… mmmph! “It’s so much harder,” she squeaked. “This is torture!”

“What’s torture,” Othniel replied glibly, “is watching you doing pushups wrong this whole time! They might seem a little harder now, but once you’ve found the proper form, they’ll get easier. You’re going to be a whole different girl by the end of term – I guarantee it. Now suck it up, buttercup!”

Tallulah grunted as she attempted another pushup. “’Atta girl,” Othniel whispered. “Just be sure you keep that tummy up!” Tallulah’s face turned almost purple; she was equally frustrated with herself for not being in better shape as she was with Othniel who wouldn’t let her settle for a second-rate technique.

Missy the trustee blew her whistle just a few minutes before seven. “All right, everyone, good effort today! Heads-up – tomorrow we’re doing lunges! There will be a box with weights on the sidelines! In the meantime, go get cleaned up and enjoy a nice, warm breakfast! Remember our motto - sound body, sound mind!” She then pointed at Othniel and Tallulah. “Beckett? Slater? I’d like a word with you two.”

Othniel and Tallulah approached Missy, who had a bright smile on her face. “I’d like to award each of you a point for the Horned Serpents. You were attentive to detail, Beckett, and wanted to ensure your friend maintained a proper form. And I know you struggle with physical training, Slater, but once again you refused to quit. Keep up the good work, you two.”

Tallulah offered Othniel a small smile as they made their way back toward the castle. “If I weren’t so sore, I’d slug you… and then maybe I’d hug you,” she squeaked. “Seriously, thank you for helping me today. You’re showing me a side I haven’t seen before… a side until today, I didn’t think you had.”

Othniel shrugged. “Calisthenics come pretty naturally to me, but my brother’s the one with all the talent in the family. He’s a freshman in high school this year, and I wouldn’t be shocked if he made the varsity wrestling team.”

Tallulah shook her head. “Not just that… I mean, you’ve shown actual leadership skills for once. You saw someone struggle, and you took the initiative to help out. Maybe Harry and Anastasia are rubbing off on you a smidge.”

“You think?” replied Othniel.

“Maaaaaybe,” Tallulah giggled. “I hope there’s more of where that came from.” She gave him a playful chuck on the elbow. “I’ll see you at breakfast, aight?”

Othniel grinned. “See you at breakfast, ‘Lu.”

***

Potions was mostly uneventful, though a hapless Thunderbird with a carrot-top bowl cut named Wentworth Cutterbuck somehow managed to make his cauldron explode whilst attempting to concoct a Cure for Boils elixir. Many of poor Wentworth’s classmates laughed at his expense, while an exasperated Madam L. went off in a tirade filled with colorful expletives unique to the wizarding world. She finally waved a wand to clean up what was left of the mess on his desk, then shooed the lad away to the infirmary as his face and hands turned pitch black.

Transfiguration picked up from where they left off from earlier in the week – as nobody had successfully transformed their matchstick into a needle, Professor Clemente gave the class ample time to perfect the spell. Barely ten minutes had passed, before an excited yelp escaped Tallulah’s lips. “I got it!”

“Let me see, young lady,” trilled Clemente as he strolled over to her desk to inspect the transfigured object. He held the former matchstick between his thumb and index finger. “Hmm… metallic throughout, eye on one end, and a sharp point on the other… well done, Miss Slater. Five points to the Horned Serpents!” Harry and Othniel each gave her hearty claps on the shoulder in appreciation; Tallulah’s cheeks flushed a deep pink.

As Transfiguration was a double-blocked class, Harry and even Othniel successfully got their matchsticks to turn into needles with time to spare.

After lunch, Harry reminded his friends that he needed to meet with Professor Lupin in his office and that he’d join them later. He finished his cheese pizza and puckerberry juice and bolted for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, which Lupin’s office was adjacent to. He knocked politely on the professor’s door. “Ahh, come in, Harry,” Lupin said warmly. He gestured toward a small plush seat across from his desk. “Have a seat, please.” He then closed the door behind him. “Would you care for some tea? Puckerberry juice, perhaps? It’s a bit different than standard pumpkin juice we had at Hogwarts, but truth be told, I find puckerberry juice far tastier.”

“Some puckerberry juice would be great,” replied Harry. “Thank you.”

Lupin snapped his fingers, and a chalice with a chartreuse liquid appeared in Harry’s hand. “How are you liking Ilvermorny so far? I know it’s been less than a week, but it sounds like you’ve made at least one or two friends.”

“I can’t complain, I s’pose,” replied Harry. He took a swig out of the chalice. “I do have a few friends, actually… my roommate Othniel, and a couple of female housemates in Anastasia and Tallulah.”

Lupin grinned. “Yes, I remember you mentioning Miss Harrison earlier this week. I’ve only known her a few days, but in some ways she does remind me of your mother.” He paused to reminisce. “They’re both very talented witches despite being Muggle-born – or as they tend to say around here, no-maj born – and they have very sweet and selfless personalities. Your parents would definitely approve of your friendship… and perhaps more, if feelings beyond friendship develop one day.”

“Slow down, Professor,” chuckled Harry. “I just turned eleven this summer.”

“I agree completely Harry,” replied Lupin with a grin. “You’re right… you should enjoy your youth while you can. You’re only eleven once.” He took a slow sip of his piping hot tea. “So, what’s on your mind today? I can’t promise I can give you an answer to all of your questions, but the only bad questions are the ones you don’t ask.”

“Well,” Harry said, scratching the nape of his neck. “I guess I have a few things I’d like to ask, but it’s okay if you can’t tell me everything.” He paused, thinking which of his questions he wanted to try first. “For starters, there’s so much about my past that I don’t know. I don’t even know the name of the wizard who killed my parents! All I know is that his name is almost a swear word in the wizarding world – at least in the British Isles.”

Lupin sighed, but offered a small smile to Harry. “I figured that one would come up at some point. And what you said is true – the sorcerer who claimed your parents’ lives is quite possibly the most feared practitioner of dark magic in British wizarding history.” He lowered his voice to a soft whisper. “This is between you and me, Harry. I know we’re in North America, but there is still some interaction with Wizarding Britain even with three thousand miles of ocean separating the two realms.”

He blinked slowly a few times before continuing. “The wizard’s true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was a Hogwarts student about fifty years ago. From what I gather, he was a very talented, charismatic, even likable boy – he exhibited very little of the darkness that he would now be associated with.” He clasped his hands, and took a deep breath. “Truth be told, I do think that very darkness was instilled in him since birth… I believe with every fiber in my being he was always destined to be the force that he had become. He wasn’t a true pureblood unlike some of his Slytherin housemates, but he bought into the blood supremacy ideals as though he was. He truly resented his Muggle heritage, and anyone else who openly took pride in theirs. He bought into his house founder’s ideals that Muggle-born witches and wizards were not qualified to study magic along with the half-bloods and purebloods… Riddle was obsessed with Salazar Slytherin, and his quest to keep Slytherin’s ideals alive and well. He eventually shed his birth name, and became… Lord Voldemort.”

Harry could virtually feel the fear and tension in Lupin’s voice, particularly in that last sentence. “Voldemort,” he repeated in an equally soft voice. “That name sounds very scary.”

Lupin nodded. “He single-handedly started a war in Wizarding Britain; if it weren’t for your mother’s immense love for you, the British Isles would almost certainly be under his control; possibly even other parts of the world as well.”

“Neither Uncle Roger nor Sirius told me any of this,” Harry murmured. “I mean I guess I understand why they didn’t, but I still think I had the right to know who killed my parents.”

“Of course you do,” agreed Lupin. “What else is on your mind?”

“Do you know who Nova Woodward is? I mean, I guess you do… you’re also her Defense teacher,” asked Harry. “But what I meant was… is she, erm, related to Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda?”

Lupin’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting that question.”

Harry shrugged. “She keeps giving me these strange looks, like, she knows me even though she really doesn’t. She doesn’t seem to like me very much even though I’ve done nothing wrong to her.”

“She’s Roger and Rhonda’s biological daughter,” Lupin admitted. “They were still children themselves when they had her – he was eighteen and she was just seventeen – and Roger and his folks are all but estranged from each other these days because his magical parents disapproved of him impregnating a Muggle girl.”

Harry hung his head. “I never meant to take her place as the Woodwards’ child… I didn’t ask for any of that.”

“No, you didn’t,” agreed Lupin. “And because of the strained relationship between Roger and his parents, it’s possible that her grandparents told her less-than-flattering stories about you and your parents… they might have even told lies about Roger and Rhonda, such as them not wanting her. She hasn’t seen her parents since she was a baby, Harry.”

“Why would they do something like that? Any child deserves to know the truth about their own past,” Harry said with some hostility in his voice. “I haven’t gotten all of the truth, but some truth is better than flat-out lies.”

“Because Cotton and Giacintha Woodward were on the other side of the war,” explained Lupin. “Cotton was a pureblood, and Giacintha was nearly a pureblood – she had a muggle-born grandparent I believe – and they both bought into the blood supremacy schtick. They were originally neutral, but the stronger Voldemort got, the more they felt that his was the winning side. Roger, on the other hand, was a staunch opponent of blood supremacy and as a way of sticking it to his bigoted parents, he dated a Muggle girl. Not Muggle-born – a straight-up non-magical girl.”

“I’m surprised they took her in,” Harry said. “And how in the world did she end up at Ilvermorny?”

“They didn’t trust Rhonda and Roger to raise her, so they more or less demanded custody of Nova. Rhonda and Roger couldn’t bear the pain, so they fled Magical Britain and vowed never to return,” Lupin replied. He then chuckled. “Nova definitely has her dad’s rebelliousness. She could get into Ilvermorny for free as Roger was a faculty member here at one point…”

“No way!” exclaimed Harry. “He never told me that! What did he teach?”

Lupin smirked. “Defense Against the Dark Arts, naturally.”

Chapter 20: Truce

Chapter Text

Harry enjoyed his meeting with Professor Lupin that afternoon, but for every question that was answered, two new ones jumped in Harry’s mind. He spent several minutes jotting down some of his unasked questions after finishing his studies after dinner, hoping that the professor may have more information another time. Unfortunately, it took him longer than usual to fall asleep that evening as his thoughts drifted toward his parents, then Nova, then the previously-nameless demon that slaughtered his parents. When he did fall asleep, he dreamt that he was buried in a tomb of asps… but even more peculiar, he could talk to them. At least, they could understand each other. Harry spoke to them in his native English, while he could understand their sibilant language with perfect clarity.

When he got up the next morning, Othniel couldn’t help but remark at Harry’s saggy eyes and his hair, which was even more disheveled than usual. “You okay, man? You look like you haven’t slept a wink…”

“It’s nothing,” Harry assured his friend. “Just a bad dream is all.”

At breakfast, the school owls dropped off the daily post. Ana was excited to receive her note, while Harry was less-than-enthusiastic to receive his, though he was at least glad to see Hedwig that morning. He stroked her chin-feathers and offered her a couple of small bites of sausage.

“Omigosh,” Ana squeaked with delight as she read her note. “I know who my new pen pal’s going to be! Her name is Daphne Greengrass, and she’s a firstie at Hogwarts! I’m beyond excited to begin my correspondence with her!”

“That’s awesome,” said Tallulah. “Are you going to write to her today?”

“Did Merlin have a beard?” giggled Ana.

Meanwhile, Harry groaned to himself as he read the contents of his note, which was considerably less exciting than the one Ana received:

“Mister Potter,

Your upcoming detention begins next Saturday, September 14^th. You will meet Mister Floyd in the entrance hall at 4 PM sharp. He will give you further instructions then. Do not be late.

Sincerely,

Sen. Professor L.E. Frye”

“What was that all about, Harry?” asked Othniel upon hearing his friend’s defeated sigh.

“Got detention a week from tomorrow,” mumbled Harry. “Between you and me, I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Maybe that’ll learn ya not to break school rules,” chuckled Othniel.

“Teach, Othniel,” Tallulah chimed in, wagging a finger. “I’m from rural Georgia and even I know better than that.”

“Teach, learn… same difference,” Othniel replied with a shrug.

“Not really,” cooed Tallulah. “Teaching always requires at least two parties – even if one of them is more of a something than a someone; just one is needed for learning.”

“Well, you’re also a lot smarter than I am,” admitted Othniel. “You were the first to get that matchstick to transform into a needle yesterday…”

Tallulah blushed. “Well, I guess that goes without saying…”

Meanwhile, Ana began writing a letter to her pen pal at Hogwarts:

“6 September 1991

Dear Daphne,

Hiya! How are you? My name is Anastasia Harrison, but I also go by ‘Ana’ for short. I adore your first name… it’s very lovely. Like Anastasia, Daphne also comes from Greek – it means ‘laurel’ (I’m sure you can tell I’m a total nerd).

I can’t even begin to tell you how thrilled I am to have a pen pal from Hogwarts – there is so much tradition and prestige associated with your school; I’m honestly a little jealous! I know there are several houses at Hogwarts, just like we have at Ilvermorny – where did you end up being sorted? I’m a second-year Horned Serpent, which is where the scholars tend to go. Our colors are teal and gold (I love teal, for what it’s worth), and I finished top of my year last term.

I’m ‘no-maj’ born, meaning my family isn’t magical. My parents are pharmacists of all things! I have an older sister named Nell, and we have a golden retriever (they don’t allow dogs at Ilvermorny, but they let me bring my kitty Scaggs along… he’s a massive Maine Coon!)

I can’t wait to get your reply, and get to know you better. I’ll see if I can attach a picture next time.

With love from Ilvermorny,

Anastasia”

She gently folded the parchment, then tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Hey Harry, could you have Hedwig take this note to the owlery please?” Hedwig was still pecking away at the last of Harry’s uneaten sausage patties.

Harry nodded. “Hedwig, would you be a good girl and take Ana’s note when you go back?” His avian companion co*cked her head and hooted softly, which Harry supposed was an affirmative response. She took one last nibble of sausage, then grabbed Ana’s note before swooping away to the owlery.

Tallulah’s face then brightened. “Harry? Othniel? Don’t forget that we have astronomy tonight with Professor Forkgrinder.”

“What time is that supposed to be?” asked Othniel. “And where is that exactly?”

“Ten o’clock in the Observation Dome,” drawled Tallulah. “It’s the big glass half-sphere roughly halfway between the Proving Grounds and Morrigan Forest.”

“It’s an easy class,” added Ana. “Professor Forkgrinder is hilarious. He’s got all sorts of goofy mnemonics to help you keep the names of stars and constellations straight. And telescopes are provided, which is nice… I can’t believe how much a personal telescope costs at Nessel Road!”

***

Harry went upstairs along with Tallulah and Othniel to the Horned Serpent tower after lunch so they could spend a few minutes to relax together. Once again, Harry spotted Nova sitting by herself in a corner, with a textbook in her lap and a mug of hot tea in her hands.

“’Scuse me for a minute,” Harry told his friends in a soft voice. “I… need to talk to Nova about something. This shouldn’t take long.”

“Are you sure?” whispered Tallulah. “She can’t stand us!”

“I just want to try,” Harry assured her. He made his way to the other side of the room and cleared his throat. “Erm, Nova? Can we talk for a minute?”

Nova slowly lifted her gaze from her book; her grey eyes met his green ones. She sighed. “What do you want, Potter?”

Harry knew he had to get to the point. “I know you’re Aunt Rhonda and Uncle Roger’s daughter,” he said. He couldn’t resist the urge for his lips to curl into a smirk. “Now that I look at you, you've got Aunt Rhonda’s eyes.”

“So what?” huffed Nova.

“I guess… I’m just a little tired of the tension between us,” admitted Harry. “If it means anything, your parents never rejected you… they love and miss you very, very much. Even Remus… Professor Lupin said so. He’s a very good friend of theirs, as is my godfather, Sirius.” He could tell that Nova’s eyes began to well with tears.

“I really, really want to believe that,” Nova whispered, perhaps more to herself than to Harry.

“Why did you come to Ilvermorny?” asked Harry. “Professor Lupin said that you didn’t have to pay tuition as your father used to teach here, but I don’t think that’s the reason… at least the only reason. Like myself, you’re a Hogwarts legacy. You could have just as easily stayed in Magical Britain.”

“Because I wanted to get away from my grandparents, whom I thought were my actual parents until I got my acceptance letters from Hogwarts and Ilvermorny,” replied Nova. “They’re… they’re not good people, Harry. They have very antiquated, even hurtful views on who should and shouldn’t practice magic. I didn’t even know my actual parents existed until I was almost eleven… my grandparents literally never talked about them.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Not long before my first term started, I did some soul-searching. I wanted to know who I really was… I asked my grandparents some, erm, uncomfortable questions. Of course they got defensive – they’d change the subject, or make up some story to assuage me. For instance, they completely slandered my mother’s good name… they told me that she was a Knockturn Alley harlot that seduced my father!” Another teardrop fell. “They were so ashamed of the fact that my father was dating a non-magical girl. They felt it better to cover it up with senseless stories than to tell me the truth. It’s so, so insulting. I may still be a child, but I’m not naïve.”

“Aunt Rhonda is a good woman, and the closest thing I had to a mother after my actual mother died,” Harry offered gently. “She may not understand magic, but that hasn’t stopped her from loving Uncle Roger or myself. He offered her a friendly smile. “Would you like to maybe, erm… come to Surrey with me this Christmas? Meet your birth parents? I know they’d be thrilled to see you for the first time in many years…”

Nova’s lips formed the faintest of smiles. “I’ll… I’ll think about it, Potter.” She offered her right hand to him. “Thank you for reaching out to me. Perhaps, going forward, our interactions might be a little less awkward.”

Harry gratefully shook Nova’s hand. “You’re welcome, Nova. I s’pose I’ll see you around.”

***

A few minutes before ten that evening, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah began making their way to the Observation Dome for their weekly Astronomy class with Professor Forkgrinder. The dome was exactly as Ana said it was – a massive glass dome about two hundred feet across and a hundred and twenty feet high. Although it wasn’t quite as tall as the castle, it was positioned on the highest point of Mount Greylock so that the top of the glass overlooked the tallest castle spire.

When the children entered the observatory, the first thing they noticed was a staircase that hugged the inside of the dome. There must have been at least three hundred steps which led to a mezzanine that was suspended not far from the top of the dome. This platform had dozens of smaller telescopes mounted on tables – ostensibly for student use, plus a much larger central telescope.

The main level had regular student desks, and various models and charts of what looked like the solar system, star charts, and other celestial bodies. Tallulah even gasped when she saw a large yellow orb floating around the perimeter of the observatory… but there were eight smaller objects that appeared to be gravitationally-bound to it, and smaller spheres still orbiting many of the eight orbs.

“It’s our Solar System in action,” she squeaked excitedly.

“I didn’t know that the Sun moved,” replied Othniel. “I just thought that the Earth revolved around the sun, and the Moon revolved around the Earth, and that’s it.”

“The Sun is gravitationally-bound to a supermassive black hole in the center of the galaxy,” replied Tallulah. “It revolves around it much in the same way the Earth revolves around the sun. The time it takes for the Sun to complete a revolution is called…”

“A cosmic year,” chimed in Harry with a grin. “We learned that in our science class last year.”

“Show-off,” snorted Tallulah.

“Greetings, greetings, fellow star-gazers,” came a boisterous greeting from the opposite side of the observatory. A slightly heavyset, mustachioed man who looked to be about fifty strutted to the front of the observatory. “I’m Professor Tregoweth Forkgrinder, and I’m positively thrilled to be teaching you the exciting art that is Astronomy!” He paused momentarily to adjust his toupee. “We’ll be studying stars, planets and their moons – yes, all of them – and if you pay close attention, you’ll even learn how to find a planet in the daytime!”

Forkgrinder’s speech patterns were unusual in that they came out in a perpetually-excited state, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because it made mundane topics seem more interesting. He started the lecture with the planet Venus, which was approaching its maximum brightness for the year.

And just like that, the class was over. “Keep looking up!” exclaimed the eccentric professor as he dismissed his students.

“At least we get to sleep in tomorrow,” said Othniel with a yawn as they left the observatory. “Though that wasn’t a bad class… I’m not sure what’s magical about it, but I’m not complaining…”

“Then there’s no excuse for you not to at least get an Exceeds Expectations,” replied Tallulah. “It’s just once weekly so you shouldn’t get overloaded with tons of homework.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” huffed Othniel. “We have to plot twenty stars according to their position on the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram by next week… I don’t even know where to begin!”

“If you paid attention, he gave us quite a few of those in class today,” Tallulah said matter-of-factly.

“But I took a bunch of notes,” groaned Othniel. “I guess I don’t understand some of it.”

Tallulah giggled. “That’s why you ask questions, silly. He’s given you plenty of opportunity to ask but you didn’t raise your hand one time!” She gave Harry a look that practically begged him to back her up.

“She’s right, Othniel,” Harry added. “Professor Lupin told me earlier that the only bad question is the one that’s left unasked… and I think that applies anywhere!”

Chapter 21: The Reply

Chapter Text

The following Friday, at Hogwarts, a pretty blonde eleven-year old witch with an immaculate French braid sat with her friends at the Gryffindor table, enjoying a tasty breakfast before class. Before she could grab another forkful of eggs, one of the school owls dropped an envelope next to her tray.

Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?” she whispered to herself, before coming to the realization that the week before, she told Professor McGonagall that she was interested in participating in a school-sanctioned pen-pal program. She carefully unsealed the envelope, and couldn’t help but crack a huge grin as she read the letter’s contents with gusto.

“Who sent you that, Daphne?” asked Lavender Brown, another Gryffindor witch with an even more intricate hairstyle than her housemate.

“Yes, inquiring minds like ours want to know,” added Parvati Patil, a first-year witch of South Asian extraction who like the first two, was also a fashionable Gryffindor.

“If you must know,” replied Daphne in a pretend-snooty tone, “it’s from Anastasia Harrison, my new pen-pal from across the pond.”

“Did she send a picture?” asked Lavender. “I wonder if she’s pretty.”

“Not this time,” sighed Daphne. “She did say that she’ll try to include one in the next letter.” She shrugged. “She sounds like she’s exceptionally bright – she mentioned that she finished top of her year last term. It’s gotta be a lot tougher to do that at Ilvermorny because it’s a much bigger school than Hogwarts. Like, literally twice as big.”

“If she were a Hogwarts witch, she’d probably be your sister’s housemate, Parvati,” giggled Lavender.

“She’s in a house called the Horned Serpents, which is where their most studious pupils usually go,” added Daphne. “She’d almost certainly be a Ravenclaw if she came here.”

“That’s an unusual house name,” quipped Parvati. “Horned Serpents sounds like it should be the Ilvermorny version of Slytherin…” She shuddered at the thought.

Daphne arched an eyebrow. “Hey now! Most of my family ended up in Slytherin… and you saw me bawling my eyes out right after I got sorted! I thought it was a given that I would follow my parents’ footsteps…”

“As if we could forget,” mumbled Lavender as she rolled her eyes. She then grinned at her friend. “But it didn’t take you all that long to warm up to the house of the daring, did it? We’re really glad you’re one of us.”

Parvati nodded in agreement. “Did you see Malfoy’s face when the Hat yelled out GRYFFINDOR? If he was just a little shorter, his chin would have hit the floor!” She threw a lopsided shrug. “Outside of Neville, your sorting was one of the longest of anyone this term… four minutes and twenty eight seconds.” She threw her friends a knowing smirk. “I counted.”

“So, are you going to write back soon?” asked Lavender.

Daphne flashed a lovely smile. “Definitely.”

That afternoon, during her free period, she found a quiet corner in the Gryffindor common room and began writing her reply to Anastasia’s letter:

“13 September 1991

Dear Anastasia,

Thank you for the very nice letter. You sound like you’re a very bright witch – congratulations on finishing on top last term! I’m sure that couldn’t have been easy! And you’re absolutely right about my name – and for the record, Anastasia is a very lovely name in its own right. It’s Greek for resurrection, but I’m sure you already know that!

Yes, Hogwarts is a very ancient school – it’s over a thousand years old! While I’m honoured to be a student here, Ilvermorny is a reputable institution in its own right. I’m sure I would have been just as happy to study there.

So you’re a Horned Serpent, huh? It sounds like you’d be a Ravenclaw if you attended Hogwarts, if you’re in the house of scholars. To my shock and (at least initial) disappointment, I was sorted into Gryffindor. I was really expecting to go into Slytherin as most of my family have gone there for untold generations. I was so overcome with resentment and disappointment in my sorting that I just cried and cried and cried… my housemates thought I made a scene, but then again I suppose I do have a bit of a flair for the dramatic!

As it turns out, being put in Gryffindor wasn’t the end of the world. I have a good house head in Professor McGonagall, and I have some wonderful housemates. I don’t just feel accepted, I feel wanted here… and that’s a truly wonderful feeling. My parents even owled me a few days after the Start of Term feast and said that they didn’t care that I was sorted in Gryffindor; they’re still very proud of me and just want me to study hard and make friends.

Gryffindor is home of the brave and daring, and its colours are red and gold. In the two weeks I’ve spent as a Lioness, it really has become my home away from home. There’s nothing fake about Gryffindor – the students are pretty much the same in public as they are in private. The same cannot be said about Slytherin, which is co*cky and united on the surface, but volatile behind the scenes. I’m not sure if I like the cannibalism that goes on in the dungeons – I feel for the few Muggle-born Slytherin students as I’m sure they feel anything but wanted there.

Speaking of – as you’ve likely already deduced – I’m a purebred heiress, but thankfully I belong to a somewhat more tolerant family than some of the others in Magical Britain. Of course, my parents do have preferences as to whom I should be dating and eventually marrying, but that’s not something I need to worry about for a good, long while. Between you and me, I’d rather marry for love, and if my Prince Charming happens to be a Muggle-born, well… I guess we’ll just cross that bridge when we get there.

You described yourself as ‘no-maj’ – I like that. It’s more to-the-point than ‘Muggle’. Is blood purity a big deal in Magical America as well? I’ve never been to North America, but I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity if offered. I’ve been to Continental Europe countless times, though.

I guess we do have a fair bit in common, other than your family not being magical. I also have a sister named Astoria, but she also goes by Tori for short. She’s not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts, but she reads spellbooks like they’re Muggle romance novels. I think we may have a future Ravenclaw on our hands! Oh, and I also have a kitty! His name is Erebus, and he’s a big black Persian, though we suspect he might have a little Kneazle blood him too.

What do you like to do in your free time? I enjoy oil painting and music. I’ve studied the flute for several years, but I prefer singing over instrumental music. I really want to try out for the student choir next term; I think I have a fair chance at making it as a mezzo-soprano. Do you have any favourite foods? I know this sounds strange coming from a pureblooded witch, but I’m actually quite fond of lasagna!

Goodness, I didn’t think this would be such a long letter, so I suppose I should wrap it up here. Here’s a photo of me in my school uniform – I’d rather wear something a bit more stylish and feminine, but you know… tradition. I hope I look okay. Thank you again for taking the time to write to me, and I can’t wait to get your reply.

With love from Hogwarts,

Daphne”

She then carefully re-read her letter to check for spelling and grammar; once she was satisfied with how it turned out, she folded it and placed the note along with a moving photograph in a small envelope, addressed it to Anastasia, then traipsed off toward the owlery for delivery.

***

That same day, back at Ilvermorny, Ana got a letter of her own from the school owls whilst having breakfast with her housemates.

“Who’s that from, I wonder?” asked Harry.

Ana bit her lip. “Professor Frye.” She unfurled the parchment and read its contents; she just as quickly rolled it back up, folded her arms on the table, and began to sob softly.

“What’s wrong, Ana?” Tallulah asked sweetly. Without looking up or uttering a syllable, Ana simply passed the note to Tallulah.

“Miss Harrison,

First of all, I want to thank you for your interest in our prestigious Quiz Bowl program. It is a time-honored tradition that goes back many generations, where Ilvermorny’s best and brightest compete in the name of sportsmanship and enlightenment.

After carefully reviewing your accolades and credentials, I have recommended that you be named to the Horned Serpent team as an alternate contestant. However, the Deputy Headmistress, who has the final say in determining team composition, has overruled my recommendation…

Professor Goode has thoroughly reviewed your records – which are beyond reproach. She deems you worthy of competing for the horned Serpents as a regular contestant, which is a tremendous honor in and of itself… but to make the regular rotation as a second-year student, that is almost unprecedented.

Congratulations on your selection, Miss Harrison. You’re a supremely talented young witch and will do your house proud. I will owl you again with details regarding the first team meeting.

Sincerely,

Sen. Professor L.E. Frye”

“But that’s awesome news, Ana,” Tallulah squeaked. “Aren’t you excited?”

“I’m elated,” Ana murmured through her sobs. “I’m… just a little overwhelmed is all… I would have been happy to be named as an alternate!”

“I knew you would make the team,” chimed in Harry. “You’re too brilliant not to.”

Othniel pointed a fork at Ana’s croissant. “You gonna eat that?” She shook her head ‘no’, so Othniel grabbed it and started chowing down on it with gusto. “Oh, and good going, by the way,” he said between mouthfuls.

Ana dabbed her cheeks dry with a napkin, then turned to Harry and forced a smile. “How are things between you and Nova? I’m glad to hear that you two set your differences aside a few days ago.”

“Not bad,” replied Harry. “We’ve said ‘hi’ to each other a couple of times in passing this week, though we don’t really go out of our way to talk to each other or anything. I get the feeling she still doesn’t completely trust me, but the awkward tension is gone for the most part.” He chuckled softly. “I prefer her smile over that aloof, icy stare of hers.”

Ana smirked. “See, she’s not a bad egg. And just be patient with her, Harry. She probably has a lot on her mind, and she just needs to figure out how to express herself.” She sighed. “You went against my advice once already, Harry. I told you to let her come to you… you should consider yourself fortunate that she was as receptive as she was. Now that you broke the ice, please just stick to small-talk until she’s ready to discuss more of her past with you. I really don’t like playing mediator as it also puts me in an awkward position.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said with a nod. “Oh, did she make the quidditch team again?”

“If she has, she hasn’t told me,” admitted Ana. “It’s possible that she won’t find out until next week.” She co*cked her head. “Oh, you have to serve your detention tomorrow afternoon, do you not?”

Harry hung his head. “Don’t remind me.”

Ana giggled. “You’re lucky your detention is in the afternoon… some detentions start at eight or nine in the evening, and can last past midnight!”

Harry shuddered at the thought. “That sounds awful.”

Ana arched an eyebrow. “Maybe this is the wake-up call you needed so that you’re keener to observe the school’s rules and to heed your instructor’s warnings? I don’t want this to become a habit, mmkay? You’re better than this.”

“I know,” Harry grumbled sheepishly. But sometimes those in charge don’t always take appropriate action, Harry thought to himself. If I need to take matters into my own hands, then I’ll just need to do a better job of not getting caught.

Chapter 22: Detention

Chapter Text

As soon as Harry woke up the next morning, he looked outside the window next to his bed. He yawned as he stretched, and shook his head in dismay as the dense silver fog blanketed almost the entire landscape. He cleaned up and got dressed, then trudged to the mess hall for breakfast.

Biscuits and gravy, he thought to himself. Not my favorite, but it’ll do. He didn’t have much to say to his friends that morning, as his upcoming detention dominated his thoughts. The undeniable feeling of dread gnawed at him to the point where he pushed his half-eaten meal to the middle of the table, and headed upstairs without saying a word.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Tallulah called after him. “You’re not yourself this morning.”

Harry turned around and shrugged. “I just have a lot of my mind is all,” he murmured. “I might as well get started on that History essay. I’ll see you lot in a bit, all right?”

“I’d be mopey too if I had to serve detention this afternoon,” Othniel said to Tallulah. “I hope they don’t go too hard on him…”

“Harry will be fine,” chimed in Ana. “I’ve never had detention, but some of my friends have. He’s lucky that Mister Floyd is supervising… he’s even been known to pitch in himself! As long as he stays quiet and stays busy, he’ll be done in time for dinner.”

As Harry made his way back upstairs to the Horned Serpent tower, he passed by Nova, who was apparently making her way to the mess hall. He’d never really seen her outside of her school clothes, but in her Muggle-style softball tee, blue jeans, and trainers… well, the young teen was certainly beginning to blossom in all the right places, he noticed. She wore her hair down this time, which cascaded to the top of her shoulders. Harry wasn’t sure if it was the light of the passageway, or maybe a simple charm, but her hair seemed to be a shade lighter too – somewhere between a deep gold and dishwater blonde.

Her lips curved upwards in a tiny smile. “Good morning, Potter,” she said in a soft lilt. Harry found her smile to be quite pleasant; indeed, he wished she would do it more often.

“Hey there, Nova,” replied Harry. “How are you?”

Nova broadened her smile, but only by a few millimeters at the most. “I’m good, I suppose.” She let out a small, almost inaudible sigh. “We need to talk in private later, if you don’t mind.” She let the tiniest of giggles escape from her lips. “More accurately, I’ll be talking and you’ll be listening.”

Harry merely nodded. “Okay, Nova,” he murmured. “Just let me know where and when… oh, I do have a detention to serve this afternoon, so it’ll have to be sometime after dinner.”

Nova put a hand over her mouth to stifle another giggle. “Yes, I heard about you sticking up for your little friend Slater during your flying lesson the other day. Pretty ballsy move there.” She bit her lip. “How about the choir room after dinner then? Nobody ever uses it on the weekends, unless there’s an upcoming performance… to my recollection, there won’t be one until the Halloween Feast.”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” replied Harry. “I don’t know where it’s at, though.”

Nova shook her head and offered Harry another small-but-pleasant smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s easy to find; just follow me after dinner. I’ll see you then, all right?’

Harry nodded again. “See you then.”

***

Harry spent the rest of the morning working on his History of Magic essay; after proofreading it several times and making sure that it exceeded the 750-word minimum (much to his satisfaction, he cleared the threshold by nearly a hundred words), he then teamed up with Othniel and Tallulah where they went over Potions – they needed to have the complete list of ingredients needed to concoct a Hair Raising Potion by Tuesday. Even Othniel was able to accurately recall the list, thanks to his friends’ efforts.

At about 3:45 in the afternoon, Harry took his leave and made his way to the entrance hall to await his fate. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only student that was handed a detention. There were perhaps eight or nine other students, from various years and houses. Some had looks of defiance on their faces, others were either pacing back and forth, or nervously bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet.

At four o’clock sharp, a female Hispanic trustee with dark, chin-length hair from the Pukwudgie house entered the entrance hall, with a clipboard in hand. She cleared her throat and called out in a loud, clear voice: “If you were instructed to report to detention this afternoon, I need you to come up front and form two lines!” Harry followed the gaggle of students and took his place in the line on his right.

Once everyone had lined up, the trustee continued with her instructions. “When I call your name, you may respond with ‘here’ or ‘present’, and I will check your name off. Once I’m done taking roll, you will wait here until Mister Floyd arrives with your assignment.” She proceeded to call out each student by their surname; once finished, she left the entrance hall to hand the list to the caretaker.

Less than five minutes later, the brawny Floyd entered the chamber, with a box under one of his well-muscled arms. “I need everyone to grab a feather duster,” he instructed. “We’re going to be paying the Wand Selection Hall a visit this afternoon.” He pointed at the line Harry stood in. “Everyone in this line, come up here and get a duster.” Once everyone in Harry’s line selected their dusters, they returned their original places. Floyd then pointed at the other line. “Everyone in this group – same thing.”

Once everyone had gotten their dusters and returned to their places, Floyd nodded in satisfaction. “All right, if everybody will follow me…” He led the students down a series of hallways – some of which Harry remembered, but not all – until they reached a familiar marble staircase that curved nearly a full 360 degrees. “Lumos,” Floyd said as they went down the dark, cool staircase. Harry winced as the musty stench of wet concrete tugged at his nostrils.

Once Floyd and his charges reached the end of the underground passageway, he placed his hand on the same somewhat off-colored brick that Professor Frye used during Harry’s first day of class. The same grumbling sound came from the walls as before, and a panel with four colored buttons appeared where the discolored brick once was just a few seconds earlier.

This time, Harry watched Floyd enter the sequence to enter the Wand Selection Hall. Floyd was much more methodical in entering the sequence than Frye was, so it was much easier for Harry to memorize this time. Blue, Green, Yellow, Red, Harry noted mentally. The same archway appeared as before, and for the second time, Harry stepped foot into the large library-like room. The only difference was, Elder Gomer was nowhere to be seen, but everything else looked exactly the same as before.

“I need all of you to pair off; today I want you all to understand the importance of teamwork,” instructed Floyd. “One of you dusts the shelves, while the other dusts off the boxes and books. If one of you finishes before the other, you will join your partner until the entire shelf and its contents are completely dust-free. Once that shelf is done, you will move on to the next one, and repeat the process until all the shelves in this room are complete to my satisfaction.”

Harry looked at the massive room… there must have been close to eighty shelves in total, he calculated. The larger shelves hugged the walls, while the more numerous smaller shelves were arranged in neat rows in the interior of the room.

“Everyone line up just like you were before in the entrance hall,” Floyd directed. He nodded once everyone had assembled as instructed. “Now, everyone face toward the other line.” Harry turned ninety degrees to his left, his fingers fidgeting around the duster.

Floyd’s voice boomed once again. “Today, your partner will be the person directly across from you.” He pointed toward the southwest corner of the chamber. “First group, you start in that corner, and work your way clockwise.” He counted about a dozen shelves, and pointed again. “Second group, you start with that shelf, and work your way clockwise.” Harry and his partner, an olive-complected girl with dark wavy hair that was probably a year or two ahead of him, purposefully marched toward the designated shelf. Floyd resumed divvying out sections of the chamber, then began polishing the busts and statues of some of Ilvermorny’s most prominent witches and wizards.

Floyd paused for just a moment to address the students. “If you cannot reach the top portions of the shelves, there is a stack of step stools between the jackalope and chupacabra statues.” He pointed to an area near the southeast corner of the room, which was practically the opposite side of the room from where Harry was standing.

Harry’s partner cleared her throat and introduced herself. As she was not in a school uniform, he couldn’t tell which house she belonged to. As he hadn’t seen her in the Horned Serpent common room or dinner table, she must have been from one of the other three houses. He also didn’t recognize her from any of his classes; she was almost certainly a second-year at the very least. “Hi there… I’m Samantha Goldfarb,” she whispered. “And you are…”

“Harry,” he replied in an equally soft tone. “Harry Potter.” His eyes shifted. “Soooo… what are you in for?”

Samantha sighed. “I was late to Potions last Thursday. Madam L is crazy-strict! Five demerits for the first offense! I swear, it’s complete bullsh*t…” Her eyes narrowed, and her voice lowered to a barely-audible, yet ominous creak. “I swear, I’m going to get Erik Suzuki one day, and get him good…”

Harry shook his head in confusion. “What’d he do?”

Samantha pinched her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead. “He cast the Dancing Feet Jinx on me after our morning exercises. It took almost an hour to wear off. Freakin’ jerk.” She looked at Harry again. “So, Harry, what’s your frack?”

Harry scrunched his face, unsure of what his partner was referring to. “Frack?” he repeated.

Samantha giggled softly. “You must be a firstie. It’s okay, you’ll pick up on the Ilvermorny jargon soon enough. Frack is short for infraction – what you did to report for detention, if you will.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. “I took off on a broom without permission during my first flying lesson last week…” He narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to justify his rationale for doing so. “A gang of big Thunderbirds bullied my friend… they took my friend’s necklace from her, and I swore that I’d get it back.” He then cracked a grin. “I got detention… and a trip to the infirmary for my efforts, but it was worth it.”

Samantha offered Harry a knowing smile. “I’m sure your friend’s very grateful for what you’ve done for her. I wish I had you to back me up as a firstie last year… I got bullied some, too. It’s not fun.”

Harry pointed toward the opposite corner of the chamber. “I’ll go grab a couple of step stools for us… would you want to take the boxes or the shelves?”

Samantha tilted her head upwards just a few degrees, and rapped her fingertips on her chin for a couple of seconds. “I’ll take the boxes, and you can do the shelves? And maybe we can alternate?”

Harry nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a few seconds.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Harry and Samantha dusted two huge shelves, and all the boxes stored on them. They were about a quarter of the way done with the third one when Harry climbed to the top of the step stool and began dusting off the top of the case. He hoisted himself up to the shelf and slowly crawled from one end to the other, hugging the wall the entire time in an attempt not to fall off – he must have been a good seven feet from the floor.

As he began crawling back the other way, his right elbow inadvertently hit a loose brick. Both he and Samantha heard a low grinding noise, and the shelf began to rotate. “What the…” whispered Samantha as the children found themselves in a dark, dank chamber that neither of them recognized.

Harry’s heart pounded… for one, he couldn’t see anything, but he got the feeling that he really shouldn’t be in this room. The soft sounds of tiny chittering feet, and low hisses only added to the eerie vibe. “Samantha?” he asked, his voice quaking with fear. “Where are we?”

Samantha whipped out her wand. “Lumos,” she murmured. She clasped a hand to her mouth as she made out the unmistakable outlines of… “Omigod! Spiders… scorpions… and snakes!!”

“Oh my,” Harry deadpanned.

Samantha’s fingers trembled; her breathing became more and more jagged. She steeled herself as she turned around to address Harry. “C’mon, Harry, I’ll help you down,” she offered. “Turn your body ninety degrees to your right, and I’ll keep you steady.”

Harry nodded, and began descending the shelf, while Samantha gently guided him to the floor.

“I have no idea where we are,” she admitted. “All I care about is finding our way out…”

“I must have pressed something on the wall to get us in here,” Harry surmised. “Let’s try and find a button or a loose stone or something on the wall – that’s the most likely way to get us back on the other side.” He began pushing random spots along the wall, hoping to find something that could turn them back around. Samantha soon joined him, but after nearly ten minutes of searching, they concluded that the only way out was through the creepy passageway…

Chapter 23: The Typhon

Chapter Text

Harry shuddered as he took his first steps on the hard, stone floor. Even with Samantha’s wand partially illuminating the dark, dank chamber, the miniscule amount of lighting it offered only allowed the pair to see just a few feet in front of them. The air was chilly and damp, a far cry from the comforts the Horned Serpent common room provided. Even the cool, bone-dry chamber they just came from was preferable to this strange passageway. Harry started to shiver; he took to rubbing his upper arms to combat the unexpected chill.

“Stay close,” whispered Samantha. She occasionally waved her illuminated wand up and down, and from side to side, hoping to sidestep the numerous vermin that crawled on the floor. Her pace soon slowed, and Harry realized that they were descending a staircase that only became progressively colder the further they trudged. Some of the steps had small, shallow pools of standing water, and Samantha did her best to side-step them, while Harry parroted her every move.

“I hope wherever you’re taking us, is the way out,” Harry said. He could see the vapor forming from his breath, owing to the glowing tip of Samantha’s wand.

“Me too,” admitted Samantha. “I don’t know where we are, but something tells me that we’re in a place that’s not meant for students to tread…” Her lips drew together in a fine line, and her voice fell to a whisper so soft that Harry could just make her words out. “I hope we’re not getting in deeper trouble for this.”

“It was an accident,” replied Harry, his voice surprisingly resolute. “I didn’t know that there was a secret passageway… and if Mister Floyd asks questions, we just need to be as up-front and honest with him as possible. While he’s by-the-book, he’s not a sourpuss like Madam L.”

Samantha nodded. “That’s true.” She sighed. “While I’ve gotten demerits in the past, this is my first detention… between you and me, I hope this is also my last.”

“I’m not a troublemaker either,” said Harry. “I don’t like breaking rules, and I won’t if I can help it… but I also don’t like bullying. If a bully has a problem with one of my friends, then they have a problem with me. And I made sure they knew it.” He shook his head. “My house head told me to let the faculty deal with bullying going forward, but sometimes… I get the feeling that teachers and coaches just aren’t going to settle disputes. At least not in the way they should be settled.”

Samantha thought back to several rough moments during her first year. “Trust me, Harry, being bullied sucks. Going to a teacher doesn’t really help much – if anything, it makes you more of a target because bullies despise tattle-tales... they’ll gang up on you twice as bad the next time.”

“The only way to confront a bully is to well, confront them,” murmured Harry. “If they push you, you need to push back. It’s the only way to earn their respect.”

“Yeah, easier said than done,” groaned Samantha. “I’m one of the smallest kids in my year – I’m afraid what’ll happen if I shove someone half a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than myself.”

Harry shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Look at me – I’m not any bigger than you, but if Flynn Replogle shoves me around, you’re damn right I’m going to shove back. I don’t care if I get a black eye out of it – I’m not going to take it sitting down! And I’ll do it every time until he gets it in that thick head of his that I’m not worth the effort.”

Samantha’s jaw dropped. “Did you say Replogle? Oh, Harry…”

Harry shook his head, confused. “What is it?”

Samantha sighed. “The Replogles are an Old Money family… they’re very wealthy and influential. Some of them have held MACUSA cabinet positions. And you’re lucky you don’t have to share a house with them, because I do. If you think Flynn was bad news, it gets worse. His sister Fayla is in the year ahead of me… she’s the queen bee with a gaggle of sycophantic groupies. And then there’s Flavius, who’s one of our Trustees, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s gunning for Head Boy next year. He doesn’t deserve it, but Replogles aren’t used to being told ‘no’…”

“What exactly are these… Old Money families?” inquired Harry. “I grew up in a magical household, but neither my uncle nor my godfather told me very much about the wizarding world.”

“Old Money families are very much like their no-maj counterparts,” explained Samantha. “These families have been here since colonial times. Some of them were already wealthy and migrated to escape persecution from magical Europe. Others weren’t as well off, but were ambitious and resourceful enough to become independently wealthy, and within a couple of generations these families were fully accepted into the upper crust of American wizarding society. The majority of these families live within a couple hundred miles’ of Ilvermorny, though there are a handful of them in the South, namely Virginia and Louisiana.”

“Are any other parts of the country represented?” asked Harry. “What about Canada?”

“Not to my knowledge,” replied Samantha. “Although Ilvermorny allows anyone from geographical North America to attend, it’s dominated by Northeasterners and to a lesser extent, Midwesterners. Ilvermorny is the oldest, largest and most prestigious school of magic in the Western Hemisphere, but it’s hardly the only place you can receive a magical education. There are several smaller magical schools in the South, Midwest, and the West… and I’m pretty sure Canada has schools of its own.”

Harry shrugged. “All I got was a letter from Ilvermorny. Nobody in Canada ever bothered to express any interest in me.”

“They’re also smaller schools than Ilvermorny,” Samantha elaborated. “Ilvermorny is the only school in North America that can detect traces of unauthorized magic across the continent – ‘accidental’ magic, if you will. Based on these traces, they can determine which students are eligible to attend and send out acceptance letters once they approach the age of admission. The other schools have much narrower scope, or have none at all. You might have to be a legacy to attend some of the others, for example.”

They continued their deliberate hike, deeper, and deeper, and deeper into the eerie tunnel. “How long have we been down here, d’you reckon?” asked Harry.

“Maybe thirty minutes,” surmised Samantha as she continued plodding forward. “There’s got to be an end to this… I’m getting cold, tired, and hungry… not to mention, a little scared.”

“That makes two of us,” agreed Harry. “All we can do is keep going forward… the end has to be close.” He then blinked. “Wait…” He pointed ahead, and slightly to the right. “Maybe it’s just me, but I see a faint light in the distance…”

Samantha’s heart fluttered, and barely contained the excited squeak that dared to escape from her lips. “It’s not just you… come on, let’s pick up the pace!”

The pair lengthened their strides – it was apparent that their eyes weren’t playing tricks on them, the faint light increased in luminosity and in size, and just a minute or two later, they found themselves on the outskirts of a large, subterranean grotto. Neither of them were sure where the light source came from, as there was definitely a solid ceiling, so had to have been magical. There were massive sandstone pillars forty feet high, and jagged stalagmites and stalactites interspersed throughout the chamber. On the opposite side of the grotto was a waterfall, which fed into a shallow pool not far from the entrance.

There were two curved staircases which led to archways near the top of the grotto. Both Harry and Samantha agreed that they should stick together, so they would have to decide between the two pathways.

“I have a hunch that the left tunnel will lead us out,” Harry declared. “What do you think?”

“In my experience, when there’s a fork in the road, it’s best to take the right one,” countered Samantha.

Harry sighed. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, but as he was already tired, hungry, cold, and lost, he didn’t want to add an argument with his companion to his misery. “Oh, all right,” he conceded. “We’ll take the right staircase.” He followed Samantha up the steps and through the archway. Once inside, they saw two more archways, and a large wooden door that appeared to be barricaded shut with several heavy bars.

“I wonder what’s behind that door,” Harry whispered.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” groaned Samantha. “We’re already in a place we’re not meant to be in… what’s behind that door is probably something we’re really not meant to see.”

Harry studied the door from top to bottom, looking for possible weakness or flaw that might allow him entry. The heavy bars and several locks certainly looked daunting, but there had to be a way to get in. There was something very, very valuable in there he wondered… but what?

“Just forget it, Harry,” Samantha muttered. “We just need to get out of here before we get in even more trouble…” As she turned around, she couldn’t help but shriek… a huge, crimson-scaled serpent – at least fifteen feet in length – slithered from behind the children. It turned around, and reared up to meet the children at eye level.

It opened its jaws, and a long, forked tongue emerged… it seemed to be actually speaking. A deep, grumbling sound came from its mouth… not quite a hiss, not quite a growl, but whatever it was, it seemed to be less than pleased that there were interlopers in its domain. [What are you doing here?]

Samantha screamed, but Harry covered her mouth with one of his hands. He looked the snake in its yellow, slitted eyes, seemingly able to understand its every word. [My name is Harry. My friend and I were serving detention in the Wand Selection Chamber, and we somehow found a hidden passageway that led us here. We are quite lost. Can you help us?]

Samantha looked at Harry, mouth agape. “What in Merlin’s name are you saying, Harry? You can actually talk to that… viper?”

The serpent stared at Samantha for a split-second, before turning back to Harry. [You are unique, Harry. You have the gift of understanding Parseltongue, an ancient language that predates any human tongue by thousands of years. Few of your kind have mastered it; fewer still can do so as a child.] The snake shrank down and coiled itself up in a loose loop. [I am Kyr’thandios, a Typhon. Witches and wizards are right to fear our kind…]

Harry didn’t back down. [I’ve never heard of a Typhon before… what makes them so fearsome?]

The snake raised its head and opened its jaws almost as far as it could. [We’re smaller than our mighty cousins, the Basilisk and the many varieties of Dragon, but we are no less potent. Our bites contain a unique venom… one that inhibits magic, itself. If enough of my venom is in your blood… you will never cast another spell again.]

Harry nodded. He knew better than to threaten or anger the snake, so he knew he had to be tactful. [We know we are not supposed to be here. We just want to return to the castle, and we will leave you be. We are a bit lost, though… if you would be so kind as to show us the way out?]

Kyr’thandios raised his head again, and pointed behind him. [Go through the archway behind me. Take the second passageway to your right, and follow it all the way down until you see a metal ladder. Climb to the top of that ladder, and open the hatch above you. That should be the first floor of the castle… oh, now I am getting hungry… your friend is looking rather tasty…]

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. He turned to Samantha. “Let’s get out of here. Quick,” he whispered to her. The two began to make their way through the archway, but the Typhon slithered after them, licking its fangs with its long, forked tongue.

“Aaaaaaagh!” screamed Samantha, holding her ankle. She whipped out her wand. “Flippendo!” It pushed the snake back several feet, buying just enough time for the children to make a run for it.

However, Samantha couldn’t keep up for very long. Just as they made their way into the second passageway on the right, she had to stop and hunch over. “I… feel strange,” she whispered. “I feel… weak.”

“I’m not leaving you, Samantha,” Harry said with determination. “We’ve got to get you upstairs and to the infirmary! I don’t want you to lose your magic… come on!” He grabbed her by the hand, and led her down the corridor, but moments later, she fell on her knees, panting.

Harry picked Samantha’s right thigh up, and hoisted it over his right shoulder. He let her left arm and leg hang loosely, while he held on to her right arm and leg. He saw the bite above her sock – two large bite marks, oozing with some sort of orange liquid that he didn’t recognize. By using the fireman’s carry, he managed to get her to the other end of the passageway, and slowly began ascending the ladder. He flipped the latch with his free hand, and pushed it open.

He poked his head through the opening, and found himself in the middle of the first-floor corridor, not far from the Herbology classroom. He didn’t even bother closing the trap door, and ran as hard as he could, screaming for anyone to help him. Samantha was still conscious, but barely. Harry clung on to her limp arms and legs – he felt duty-bound to protect her until someone could provide badly-needed medical attention.

Harry hollered at the top of his lungs… surely someone was at the castle on a late Saturday afternoon, he figured. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he caught the unmistakable visage of Mister Floyd in the distance. “Mister Floyd! Mister Floyd! We need your help!”

Floyd turned around, not at all expecting to see the small Harry toting an injured girl over his shoulders.

Harry cleared his throat, then his mouth went a hundred miles an hour, trying to explain everything that happened. “We got lost… I somehow activated a rotating bookshelf and we ended up in this dark underground tunnel… we ran into this snake…”

Floyd held up a hand. “Slow down, son. Just tell me what you need me to help you with.”

“Samantha,” Harry said between deep breaths. “She got bit… by a typhon. She could… she could lose her magic!”

Floyd’s eyes widened. “A typhon? How long ago?”

“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago,” Harry replied. He turned slightly, so Floyd could see Samantha’s bite marks.

“I’m not going to ask questions,” murmured Floyd as he glanced at her wound. “Just return to your common room. I understand this isn’t your fault… you did the right thing by seeking help. Now, go.” He picked up the little girl and carried her in his arms as easily as a rag doll, and hurried off toward the infirmary.

Chapter 24: Meeting the Headmaster

Chapter Text

When Harry returned to the Horned Serpent common room, the first thing he noticed was the lack of commotion – there was scarcely another soul to be found. He craned his neck to check the time – several minutes past six. Everyone else must be in the mess hall having their dinner, Harry thought to himself as he paced back and forth in the room.

He felt his stomach rumbling, but after mulling it over for a few minutes, he managed to stave off the temptation to join his housemates downstairs. Mister Floyd gave him specific instructions to return to his common room, and figured that it would be for the best to remain there in case any faculty came looking for him. He sighed as he took a seat near the fireplace – if he couldn't eat, at least he could warm himself up after spending at least an hour in the chilly labyrinth underneath the castle. Even a small cup of hot chocolate or spiced chai – a taste he inherited from his mother Lily – would have hit the spot.

His reasoning proved sound; no more than ten minutes elapsed before he heard the familiar sound of stones grinding. The person that came to fetch Harry was indeed a faculty member as he expected, but it was perhaps the last one he would have guessed.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry gasped, the surprise evident in his face.

"Hello Harry," replied the Defense professor in a tired voice. "We need to talk." Harry could see the lines of concern on Lupin's face… whatever they were about to discuss, it wasn't going to be particularly pleasant.

"I'm… not going to be in trouble, am I?" Harry stammered. Fighting tears, he looked down on the floor.

Lupin forced a smile. "No, I assure you that you're not in any sort of trouble." Although his voice remained kind, his expression darkened somewhat. "I will need for you to follow me to my office; from there, we will floo to the headmaster. There will be some… difficult questions that you'll need to answer; you will need to be as truthful and through as possible."

Harry felt the rush of tears stinging at his eyes. "It's about Samantha, isn't it, sir?" He looked up at the Defense professor. "I really want her to be all right."

Lupin gazed kindly at the frightened lad. "I know you do, Harry. I know you do."

Harry tilted his head. "What about Nova? She wanted to see me after dinner tonight… it sounded kinda important."

"It may be important to her," sighed Lupin, "but it'll have to wait. A student's career is at stake… perhaps her very life." He gestured toward the hall that led to the dormitories. "If you're quick, you can leave Miss Woodward a brief note explaining your absence. She'll understand. Besides, the night's still young, so I suspect there will be ample opportunity for her to say her piece later in the evening."

Harry nodded, and dashed toward his room. Less than a minute later, he scrawled a quick note:

"Nova,

I'm sorry I was unable to meet you in the Mess Hall as planned. Something urgent came up, I'm afraid. If you can, please wait in the common room until I return. It should not take very long.

Sincerely,

Harry"

Harry placed the note on top of the large circular table in the center of the common room, and left with Lupin without another word.

Several minutes later, Harry found himself in Professor Fontaine's office. He had never used Floo Powder before, finding the method of near-instantaneous transportation both somewhat confusing and strange. He turned his head, coughing out bits of the dusty green substance that he threw on the flames in the fireplace in Lupin's office.

In addition to the Headmaster himself, several other faculty members had gathered for what most likely was going to be a very serious conversation. Harry recognized Professor Lupin, Mister Floyd, and Professor Goode, but there was one person that he didn't recall seeing – not even at the Start of Term feast.

The man had a complexion of mottled caramel, and wore his long raven hair in a simple ponytail. He was dressed in a simple brown vest, blue jeans, and black cowboy boots. His complexion and facial structure indicated that he was at least partly of indigenous American descent. Although Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, this man had a certain aura that none of the other faculty members possessed.

Fontaine broke the silence. "Thank you for joining us on such short notice, Harry. I assume you know why we've summoned you here?"

Harry turned to face the headmaster, and nodded. "You're welcome, sir… and I think I know why… it's about Samantha Goldfarb."

Fontaine nodded; then Professor Goode spoke up. "Correct, Mister Potter. I'm afraid to say that Miss Goldfarb is quite ill, and her future at Ilvermorny is, erm, cloudy, at best."

Harry's heart sank. "She'll… pull through, won't she?"

Goode shrugged. "She's in a stable condition in the infirmary, yes… but her magical faculties are rapidly diminishing. We cannot guarantee they will return – at least fully."

"So… she'll have to be expelled?" gulped Harry. "Please tell me that won't happen to her…"

"Expulsion is such a harsh term," sighed Goode. "Perhaps disenrollment would be more appropriate. If our worst fears are realized, she would no longer meet the requirements to continue to study magic. And that's a shame, because most of the Ilvermorny faculty – myself included – have found her to be studious and respectful. We'd sorely hate to lose her, as would many of her housemates."

"Now Harry, I need for you to recall the incident as completely and accurately as you are able," beckoned Fontaine. "As I'm sure Professor Lupin has already advised, you are not in any sort of trouble… you're here for Miss Goldfarb's sake."

"And perhaps most importantly of all," added Lupin, "this is strictly confidential. What we discuss in this room, stays in this room. I needn't elaborate on what could happen should word gets out…"

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. "Samantha and I were cleaning partners for our detention. We were dusting these enormous bookcases in the Wand Selection Chamber, but they held wand cases rather than spellbooks. I think it was the third one we were on… it was near the middle of the left side of the room. She was dusting off the wand cases, and I was dusting off the bookcase itself…"

Harry paused, and saw that every single faculty member had their eyes on him the entire time. They were clinging on to his every word – Professor Goode paused from time to time to write notes.

"I'm not sure what I did exactly, but I think it was the third bookcase that we were cleaning… I used a stepstool to climb on top of it. I must have hit something on the wall with my elbow, because first I heard the sound of stones grinding against each other, and then the bookcase flipped around to reveal a dark passageway, filled with creepy bugs and snakes. It's a good thing Samantha knew that lumos spell or whatever it was called, because we couldn't see anything without it! We spent a good ten or fifteen minutes trying to find a lever or a loose stone or something that would get us back from where we came, but nothing we tried worked!"

Despite being assured he was in no trouble, Harry began to tremble with fear. "So we did the only thing we could… we proceeded down the passageway. It was so cold and dark… and it had a rather unpleasant smell, too. We thought that the tunnel would never end, but we pressed on anyway. We finally saw a faint glow on the other side, so we picked up our pace and found this room that must have been magically lit because we couldn't find a natural light source. There was a waterfall on the opposite side of the room, and a pair of staircases that went up either side of it. So we took the right side, and that's where we met this snake… a Typhon. I was able to talk to it, though I can't explain how…"

Fontaine steepled his fingertips and nodded. "Harry… can you describe this… Typhon to me?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. It was pretty big for a snake, like it was as long as a crocodile, and nearly as wide. Its scales were bright red, almost blood-red. Its underbelly was golden, and it could move very, very fast… and its front fangs were coated with this orange stuff… the same color that oozed out of Samantha's wound just above her ankle." He averted his eyes for a split second. "I don't think it appreciated our presence, but it at least seemed to respect me. It was able to communicate to me in a way that was something between a hiss and a growl, yet I could understand it very clearly; and it understood me just as well. It told us how to escape and return to the castle, but apparently it wanted to make a meal out of Samantha so it chased after us and bit her. She cast some sort of knockback spell which bought us a few precious seconds to escape, but she was quickly losing her strength. I had to carry her part of the way back, until I made my way upstairs. I then found Mister Floyd, who told me to return to the Horned Serpent tower, while he took Samantha to the infirmary."

"And how did you speak to the Typhon?" inquired Fontaine. "Did you hiss, or speak English, or perhaps another human tongue?"

Harry shrugged. "It seemed like English to me, sir. I don't think I'm capable of making those sounds."

Fontaine's eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly. "Ahh. Thank you, Harry."

Mister Floyd cleared his throat. "If anyone deserves blame for the incident, it should be me. While I pride myself on my multitasking capabilities, I'm not omniscient. When I heard the bookcase rotating, I turned around to see what the commotion was, but it was already too late. Although their detention was not yet finished, I had no choice but to dismiss my remaining charges so I could more fully focus on finding Mister Potter and Miss Goldfarb."

He sighed. "After ensuring that the other students were evacuated, I tried to activate the bookcase in an attempt to retrieve Mister Potter and Miss Goldfarb, but the activating mechanism must have gotten stuck as it would not budge. I tried some repair spells to reset it, to no avail. So I did the next best thing – I returned upstairs to look for other faculty to assist me with my search." He gestured toward Lupin. "Thank Merlin I bumped in to you when I did, Remus."

"The bookcase you're referring to is quite unusual, Keith," admitted Fontaine. "Not just anyone can activate the mechanism…" He let out a raspy sigh. "Based on Harry's story, I can say with a high degree of confidence that this young man is a Parselmouth. Only those with knowledge of that arcane language can activate that bookcase."

He cleared his throat. "Long, long ago – during Ilvermorny's infancy in the early 17th century, there was a schism much like the one at Hogwarts. Ilvermorny was founded on the principle that anyone magically-gifted can study here. Isolt Sayre was our great founder, and was constantly at odds with her blood supremacist aunt, Gormlaith Gaunt. Gormlaith left the British Isles with the intent to usurp control of the fledgling school of magic. Although she was ultimately stopped, she did leave her mark before falling to a Pukwudgie arrow. She created a hidden passageway under the castle which would serve as the home of the fearsome Typhon – and the passageway was enchanted in such a way that only a fellow Parselmouth can activate it, and unleash the magic-eating serpent. You see, the knowledge of Parseltongue is the hallmark of the Salazar Slytherin bloodline. The Gaunt family, which is intimately connected to Slytherin, is the very same one that spawned the Dark Lord."

Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Do you know Parseltongue, sir? The Typhon says it's very rare for humans to understand it, let alone children…"

For the first time since the meeting started, Fontaine actually smiled. "I'm afraid not, young man." He beckoned for Harry to join him at his desk. With some hesitation, Harry took a few methodical steps toward the Headmaster's desk, and stopped just a pace away from him. "Harry, may I show my colleagues something? I promise I shall not harm you."

Harry simply stared at Fontaine for a couple of seconds before nodding. "Go ahead, Professor."

"Thank you, Harry," replied Fontaine. He gently raised a hand and brushed away a bit of Harry's dark, messy hair and exposed a scar that sort of resembled a backwards Z. He then looked at Harry. "Do you know where this scar came from?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know much about my past… my uncle Roger and godfather Sirius didn't seem to like talking about it." He then sighed. "All I know is that it came from this demon named Lord Voldemort when I was still living in Magical Britain… the same dark wizard that claimed my parents' lives. He tried to destroy me as well, but my parents were able to place a protective spell on me which caused his killing spell to backfire..."

Fontaine nodded. "I can't say I blame Roger or Sirius for not wanting to discuss your past in great detail. It's a lot for a young boy like yourself to handle. A lot…" He sucked his lips inward and puffed out a small sigh. "You're a strong boy, Harry Potter. I do think a large part of their reluctance is more about them than it is with you. I know your Uncle Roger personally – he did work for me some years ago, in fact… he was very, very fond of your parents."

"The Headmaster is right, Harry," added Lupin. "Roger, Sirius and I still grieve the loss of your parents. Lily and James weren't merely friends to us – they were family. And by extension, you are our family. While you're not ready to know everything yet, you'll have to be patient with us because it's just as painful for us to discuss the subject of your parents, even ten years later. I hope that makes sense."

"I think so," replied Harry. "I knew that you were all friends back in the day; I just had no idea that you were that tight."

Lupin smiled. "We had something special going on for sure." His smile broadened. "We did what we could to make your, erm, no-maj Aunt Rhonda feel included – she might not have our gifts, but never once did she express any jealousy or bitterness. Even more than your mum, she acted as the voice of reason of the outfit. I'm not sure if she ever told you, but her ambition was to be a barrister in non-magical Britain… if it weren't for the Marauders, she very well could be a politician of note back home!" His face drooped with a touch of sadness, though his smile didn't fade completely. "Rhonda is a good woman… smart woman. I'm sure the thought of her wishing to be magically-gifted has crossed her mind at least once. She'd have made a terrific witch – that, I have no doubt."

Fontaine nodded at Lupin, before turning to address Harry. "When The Dark Lord attempted to cast the Killing Curse on you, he did not know that you were protected with a love-based charm. As his body was physically destroyed, he inadvertently left his own mark on you – the scar which you bear – and some of his essence is effectively inside you, including the gift of Parseltongue." He smiled bitterly. "He may be destroyed physically, but spiritually is another thing entirely."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "What about Samantha now? I told you all I know… can she be saved?"

The gaunt Native American stepped forward. "I am Joseph Haatali, Professor of Shamanism. What Miss Goldfarb really needs are phoenix tears. The power of phoenix tears can negate the Typhon venom; however we are not fortunate enough to have a phoenix on school grounds. There are some traditional Navajo rituals that I will try on the girl, but there is a chance her magic will be permanently impaired."

"Is it possible to get a phoenix to the castle?" asked Harry.

"My Hogwarts counterpart, Professor Dumbledore has a phoenix in his menagerie," Fontaine said in his usual silky voice. "However, even if he is able to come here to administer the antidote to the child, it'll almost certainly be too late. Professor Haatali may be able to preserve some of her magic, but if it's diminished to the point where she cannot cast even the most basic of spells without difficulty, then she cannot be allowed to proceed with her studies."

Harry felt his heart sink again. "I told her that she would not lose her magic," he whispered. "I don't like breaking promises…"

"Harry, she's not going to remember it if we have to make the decision to disenroll her," Fontaine replied. "She will be obliviated, and will return to her no-maj family."

"And the hatch on the first floor," Harry added, heart pounding. "I didn't shut it! Can the Typhon escape?"

"The hatch has been shut, and the serpent has been contained," Floyd said. "As a safety measure, I recommend not using the Wand Selection Chamber for manual labor going forward."

Fontaine nodded. "After this incident, I am inclined to agree." He gestured toward Lupin. "Remus, I think we've gotten all we needed from Mister Potter. Would you mind escorting him to the Mess Hall for a quick meal, and then back to the Horned Serpent tower?"

Lupin nodded, then turned to Harry. "Let's go, Harry. I'm sure you've worked up quite the appetite, and you're probably ready to rejoin your friends back in your common room."

Chapter 25: A Heart-to-Heart

Chapter Text

It was nearly eight o’clock by the time Harry had returned to the Horned Serpent tower. The day’s events had taken its toll on him; he felt his eyelids getting heavy and a couple of yawns escaped his lips.

A small smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he caught a glimpse of his friends playing Egyptian Rat Screw on a coffee table near the corner of the common room. Ana was the first to catch sight of him; needless to say, her smile was so broad that her petite face was barely large enough to contain it. She immediately stood to her feet and greeted Harry with a tender hug.

“Harry,” she exclaimed. “I was so worried about you… I heard some rumors about you disappearing during your detention. Several faculty members had to go after you and this other girl… I’m just glad to see that you’re all right.”

Harry’s gaze was fixed downwards, but his eyes managed to meet hers for a brief moment. “I’m okay, Ana,” he murmured. “It’s true that I disappeared, but I swear it was an accident…” Ana arched an eyebrow, and her mouth tilted in such a way that Harry knew that she wasn’t convinced.

Harry sighed. “I’ve been to see the Headmaster… I’m not in any trouble, honest… but considering what all I’ve been through during detention, he and the other faculty in his office made me promise not to tell anyone what happened. If I make a promise, then I’m going to do my best to keep it - I take them very seriously.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Ana replied with a slight nod. “I understand. I won’t prod, but what’s important is that you’re safe.” Her lovely smile returned to her face. “Would you care to join us for a card game?”

Harry chuckled. “I’m rather tired, though I suppose I could squeeze in a quick game.”

After a couple of rounds of Egyptian Rat Screw, Harry felt a bit of a second wind coming on. He was about to slap a pair of deuces on a particularly sizable pile on the coffee table when a familiar British accent pierced the din. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back, Potter.”

Just as Harry turned around to face the unexpected voice, Othniel took full advantage and slapped the doubles. “Thanks for the distraction, Nova!”

Nova was unable to suppress a giggle. “My pleasure, Beckett.” She then turned to Harry and gestured toward the common room exit. “Follow me, Potter,” she purred. Harry followed Nova to the common room exit, down Old Margie, and across several hallways until she stopped at what must have been the school’s choir room.

“If I knew the muffliato charm better, I’d have cast that in there… Merlin knows, my grandparents do it all the time to keep eavesdroppers away… I’ve tried it but I can’t really get it to work just yet…” She shrugged. “It’s a fifth-year spell, but there’s still time for me to get it down before they actually teach it.” She gestured to the door. “After you.”

Harry found a pair of hard wooden chairs in the center of the room and sat in one of them, and waited for Nova to take the other. She daintily took her seat next to Harry, and placed her hands on her lap. She offered Harry a pleasant smile before addressing him.

“Firstly, Harry, I want to apologize for acting so cold and distant toward you earlier,” she said in soft voice. “I’m so sorry if you got the impression that I was an insufferable bitch… I truly don’t mean to be. I’m a very self-conscious girl, and I’ve put up so many walls and moats around myself that I sometimes forget to add the occasional door or bridge.” Her smile broadened – even with her rather uneven-looking teeth, it was lovely enough to rival Ana’s. “And I did think about your offer about coming with you to visit my birth parents in Canada; I’d love nothing more, though I think I’d rather do it during the Thanksgiving break rather than Christmas, if that’s alright with you.”

“Thanksgiving’s next month – would that be enough notice?” Harry asked.

Nova put a hand over her lips, barely suppressing a giggle. “In Canada, yes, Thanksgiving is in October. At Ilvermorny, we observe the American Thanksgiving, which is in late November. You should have ample time to owl your aunt and uncle your intentions of inviting me over.”

“Great,” yelped Harry. “You know they’d love to see you for the first time in, well, forever. They never talked about you in my presence, but I think I know why. There are certain topics that are very painful for them to discuss – my parents being one of them, and I’m sure losing custody of you was equally painful.”

Harry could sense the uneasiness in Nova’s countenance. “My godfather Sirius would love to see you too,” he added. “He’s just as important to me… ever since he relocated to western Canada when I was six, he’s made it a point to be a constant part of my life. He’s been to all my ice hockey games, he’s told me a few cool stories about his time at Hogwarts… he’s just a really cool guy.”

“My grandparents never thought very highly of him,” admitted Nova. “They think he’s shady and untrustworthy, and by being a former Gryffindor, he was never a real Black. They were none to pleased to learn that he was eventually found innocent of the massacre at Godric’s Hollow.” Her lips curved into a faint smile. “That’s said, I’m sure your godfather’s a wonderful man. I’d be delighted to meet him.”

Harry tilted his head. “A personal question, Nova?”

Nova smiled sweetly and nodded. “What’s up, Harry?”

Harry looked downward for a moment before meeting Nova’s gaze. “Ana – who has an unusual name herself – told me your real name once, but I forgot what it was. Could you tell me again please?”

“That actually sounds rather lovely,” remarked Harry. “Maybe even more than Anastasia.”

Nova blushed. “I prefer Nova, but I suppose you may be right.” She giggled again – Harry rather liked the way they sounded, sort of like high-pitched squeaks. “In case you’re curious, her full name is Anastasia Kay. And don’t tell her I said this, but Anastasia is a very suitable name for a pureblood Slytherin princess. From what I gather, plenty of girls in that house have Greek-based first names.”

Harry shrugged. “I thought you weren’t all that close. Anyway, I think it’s a very suitable name for any witch, regardless of school or house.”

This time it was Nova’s turn to shrug. “She’s not my closest friend, but she is quite dear to me nonetheless.” A sneaky grin crossed her face. “She’s a sweetheart, but she can be quite the snarky one as well.”

“Yeah, she called me clumsy before,” groaned Harry. “Though I probably deserved it… I bumped into her once, and fell in front of her just a couple hours later.”

Nova burst into full laughter. “Yes, you probably deserved to be called clumsy for that… the poor thing is so thin, a gentle breeze would knock her over! She can’t be much more than six stone…”

“I’m not sure how much that is,” admitted Harry, who was more comfortable with metric measurements than traditional English ones, “but the stack of books in her arms looked like almost too much for her to handle.”

“That’s a girl who’s happiest when her nose is in a book,” replied Nova. “She’ll just as happily read a spellbook as much as one of those romance or mystery novels!” She scrunched her nose, and flashed another sneaky grin. “Okay, Harry… my turn to ask a personal question.”

“I s’pose what’s fair is fair,” replied Harry. “Whatcha got?”

Nova bit her lip, and thought of the most tactful way to phrase her question without offending Harry. “I’m sure you’ve been told that you’re the Boy-Who-Lived… what’s it like, living with that scar on your forehead?” She smiled sweetly. “I mean, scar or not, you are a cute boy, but have you experienced anything strange prior to coming here? Or perhaps since coming here? I’m not referring to accidental magic… I mean, visions – premonitions, even.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and stuck out his tongue – although Nova meant it in the most positively way possible, he really didn’t take well to being called cute. Nova, to her credit, simply giggled at his reaction.

Harry’s eyelids fluttered in thought. “Before coming to Ilvermorny? Not that I recall, but right after I got my wand, I saw these visions… flashbacks, really, and they were horrifying. My scar tingled, maybe even burned a bit.”

Nova looked into Harry’s emerald eyes. “Are you comfortable telling me what you saw in those flashbacks?”

Harry nodded, albeit slowly. “There’s something about Elder Gomer… like, he’s not an ordinary wizard – and wizards are anything but ordinary – the way he took my wrist and looked at me, well, I got the feeling that he knows me better than I know myself, and I’ve never met him before in my life! It’s like he saw through my soul, and I relived these events that I was too young to remember, like seeing my parents die, watching Voldemort evaporate, and then me being taken in by Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda.”

“He’s a Sage of Narragansett, Harry,” Nova answered solemnly. “These sages are a very secretive brotherhood of wizards. They’re unusually long-lived, even by wizarding standards, and practice a magic that incorporates both European magic and traditional Naragansett shamanism and druidry. The Shamanism classes they teach at Ilvermorny is radically different than the brand these sages use – even Professor Hataali admits that Naragansett magic is exponentially more difficult to master.”

“Are you taking Shamanism?” Harry asked, wide-eyed.

Nova nodded. “I am, but unlike Charms, Potions, and the like, it’s an elective, meaning you don’t have to take it. All classes during your first and second years are what’s known as core classes, meaning they’re required.”

“How do you like it?” asked Harry, his voice dripping with curiosity.

Nova smiled. “It’s fascinating, really. Professor Hataali is very proud of his heritage and it shows… nothing gives him greater joy than sharing his culture with others. It’s a challenging branch of magic, to be sure, but in a sufficiently-skilled practitioner, it’s exceptionally potent. Someone who has truly mastered shamanism can summon a powerful thunderstorm on command, for example. They can also heal those on the brink of death, and even communicate with spirits from generations past.” Her expression darkened, almost gravely so. “He warned us that great caution must be exercised as it’s an even more dangerous discipline of magic than transfiguration… often times, the first mistake a shaman makes, is also their last.”

“I met him just a couple of hours ago in the Headmaster’s office,” Harry murmured. “He seems to be very powerful – like Elder Gomer powerful.” He hung his head down low, fearing he had already told Nova too much. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you what happened in there, as they told me I was not permitted to discuss the details with anyone outside the office, but I can tell you that I wasn’t in trouble.”

“That’s okay, Harry,” Nova replied gently. “I understand that the discussion in Fontaine’s office is not of any concern to me.” She flashed another friendly smile. “Thank you for sharing, by the way. I’m enjoying getting to know you a bit better, and I hope you feel the same way.”

Harry grinned. “I’m glad to finally get to know the girl behind the icy stare. She turned out to be pretty cool.” He looked away for a split second, before looking into Nova’s lovely sky-blue eyes again. “So, does this mean, erm, we’re friends now?”

Nova smiled and nodded. “Definitely."

Chapter 26: The Study Session

Chapter Text

The next day, right after breakfast, Harry took his leave from his Horned Serpent friends and made his way to the infirmary to pay Samantha a visit. He cleared his throat as he approached the front desk. Shannon the receptionist greeted Harry warmly. “Good morning, young man. What can I do for you today?”

“Hi,” replied Harry. “I’m Harry Potter. I’d like to see Samantha Goldfarb if she’s still here. Is she accepting visitors?”

Shannon nodded. “Yes, Miss Goldfarb is in our extended visit ward. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you, Mister Potter. If you’ll take a seat in the meantime, I’ll have someone escort you momentarily.

“Thank you,” said Harry with gratitude. He found a seat near a table with several Quidditch Quarterly issues, and whiled away his time by watching several death-defying stunts the moving photos provided. He so thoroughly immersed himself in the action that he barely heard his name being called.

“Mister Potter?”

Harry wasn’t sure how many times he was called back, but he quickly set the periodical down and saw a plump elderly witch standing on the opposite side of the room. Judging by her attire and her demeanor, Harry guessed that she was an orderly of sorts. Her arms were crossed, and she seemed to have a somewhat annoyed expression on her face.

She shook her head as Harry got up and made his way toward the back of the room. “Good grief, Potter,” the orderly said in a soft yet exasperated tone. “I was beginning to think you were going deaf on me. I lost track of how many times I called for you…”

“Sorry,” murmured Harry. “I sorta got lost in one of those Quidditch Quarterly magazines…”

The orderly groaned. “You kids and that infernal game… there are days I wish our forebears never brought it over here. So senseless, not to mention dangerous… I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen students come back here for sports-related mishaps. If the Headmaster had any common sense, he’d petition MACUSA to ban quidditch.” She sighed. “I’ll step off my soapbox. If you’ll kindly follow me.”

She led Harry down a different hallway than before… this one was considerably longer, with perhaps fifteen rooms on each side. Beside each door hung various charts and signs, such as “do not disturb” or a list of dietary preferences. The orderly stopped about two-thirds the way down the corridor, indicated by a plaque that read ‘Room 139: Goldfarb, Samantha M.’ She pushed a small button and spoke into what looked like a square grate to the right of the door.

“Miss Goldfarb?” the orderly called out. “You have a visitor… Mister Potter. Would you like to see him now?”

They were met with silence for about ten seconds, before a groggy voice replied. “Yes ma’am.”

The orderly then turned to Harry and gave him quite the severe look. “You have precisely thirty minutes, Mister Potter. I will come and fetch you when your time is up. Don’t even think about asking for one second more, as you will not get it. You can see her again tomorrow during your free period, or after class.” Her look darkened further. “Any questions?”

Harry knew the orderly wasn’t messing around – he knew better than to push his luck. “No, ma’am.”

The orderly nodded, then pointed a chubby finger toward his nose. “You’ll do well to remember that visitation in this ward is a privilege, Potter. You’d best not do anything foolish to jeopardize future visits.” She opened the heavy wooden door to Samantha’s room, and curtly ushered him inside.

Once the door closed behind him, Harry quietly approached Samantha’s bed. Her room looked far more spartan than the one he visited two years ago when his Aunt Rhonda was recovering from an emergency appendectomy. The iron-framed beds, lack of a television, and hard floors reminded him of his old non-magical history class, with the black-and-white photographs of hospitals from the 1920s and 1930s. Even Samantha’s plain white gown looked like something from yesteryear.

Even more eye-catching was the bright and cheerful expression on Samantha’s face. “Hello there, Harry,” she squeaked. “I totally didn’t expect you to come and see me. How are you?”

Harry found Samantha’s smile quite infectious, so he couldn’t help but return the grin. “I’m all right, I s’pose,” he replied. He tilted his head downward a shade, and lowered his voice. “I couldn’t help but worry about you some… I was summoned to the headmaster’s office last night.”

Samantha clasped a hand over her mouth. “Oh Merlin, Harry! You weren’t in trouble, were you?”

Harry shook his head ‘no’. “Thankfully, no. They needed my help, actually. They wanted to know everything that went on in the underground tunnel yesterday afternoon so they could best heal you. There was this Navajo professor… I don’t quite recall his name, but he said that you needed something called phoenix tears for a full recovery, but unfortunately the nearest phoenix is several thousand miles away.”

Samantha nodded. “Yes… Professor Haatali. He’s an expert healer. He doesn’t like being called a wizard – he much prefers to be called a shaman, or even medicine man. He also told me about those phoenix tears, but he did try something last night that was able to preserve most of my magic. He ground up a spice called narlant weed using a pestle and mortar, and then he performed some sort of blessing, twice actually. He chanted in his two native languages – Navajo and then again in Spanish – and then he put just a pinch in a clay pipe and asked me to smoke it.” She giggled. “I thought he was off his rocker at first, but he assured me that he’s administered smokable remedies to children even younger than myself before, and it’s nothing at all like tobacco.”

Harry smiled. “I’m glad to know that he was able to help. I swore to myself that you wouldn’t lose your magic… maybe I was writing a check that might have been too big to cash…”

“Harry, it’s okay,” Samantha replied with reassurance. “You brought me to safety and I’ll always be grateful for that.” Her lips drooped, and her eyes grew heavy with concern. “Even with Professor Haatali’s effort, I won’t be able to achieve my full potential as a witch. Some of my magic is gone forever.”

“Hopefully not enough to disqualify you from studying here,” murmured Harry. “The staff in the Headmaster’s office said some really good things about you, and that they’d hate to lose you as a student if you lost too much of your magic.” He arched an eyebrow. “How much longer are you supposed to stay in the recovery ward, anyway?”

“Based on a couple simple tests, Professor Haatali told me that I have enough magic to finish the year for sure,” Samantha said with some hope in her voice. “Professor Goode will re-evaluate things toward the end of the term. And I’ll be here for the week.”

“D’you want me to get Ana Harrison to maybe bring you your homework? Perhaps even go over it with you? She’s as nice as she’s smart.”

Samantha’s eyes lit up. “Oh, could you¸ Harry? Anastasia’s an angel... she might not be my housemate, but she’s in my year. She’d be a far better tutor than my roommates Erin and Jenna.”

“I hope she gets a less strict orderly than what I got… she may be smart, but there’s only so much to cover in a half hour,” Harry groaned. “Maybe she’ll make an exception for schoolwork?”

“Madam McTeague is a surly old cuss,” agreed Samantha. “She’s not Madam L-grumpy, but she’s not all that far off.” She offered Harry a warm smile. “She can talk to her house head and get a permission slip so she can tutor me during her free period or after school… Old McTeague would have no choice but to honor it.”

“Great,” replied Harry. “I can’t promise she’ll agree to it as she’s a very busy girl, but I’m sure one or two tutoring sessions should be doable.”

Samantha giggled. “You’re fine, Harry. It’s not the end of the world if she can’t do it.”

A clicking sound interrupted their conversation. Madam McTeague’s voice came through the vent by the door. “Time’s up, Potter.”

“I gotta go, Samantha,” sighed Harry. He looked at her and smiled. “I’ll see you later, okay? I’m glad to see you’re doing all right.”

“Thanks for coming to see me, Harry,” replied Samantha with a broad smile of her own. “I’ll see you next time.”

Harry turned around and exited the room, and followed Madam McTeague down the hallway.

***

At three o’clock that afternoon, Harry took his History, Herbology, and Defense textbooks and made his way to the school library. He knew this was Ana’s preferred hangout, and figured she would probably be hidden behind a mountain of tomes. Being a Sunday afternoon, he was surprised that the library was as full as it was. Most of the faces belonged to older students, likely fourth-years on up, Harry guessed, but he tilted his head in wonder when he saw a tiny girl sitting by herself in secluded corner.

Upon first glance, the girl didn’t seem very familiar to Harry. Her hair was put up in a messy bun, and she wore a lavender hooded sweatshirt with light blue jeans and white trainers… and was she wearing reading glasses?

Harry slowly approached the table, and before putting his bag down, casually asked the girl if he could sit there. The girl looked up at Harry, and grinned broadly.

“Hiya, Harry,” she squeaked. “How are you? I haven’t seen you today.” She patted the side of the table across from her. “Would you like me to help you study?”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Hey there, Ana.” He tilted his head. “That’s… a very different look for you. I almost didn’t recognize you… you usually dress, erm, preppier. And I didn’t know you wore reading glasses!”

Ana giggled softly. “I didn’t mean to throw you off… today’s just a sweatshirt and blue jeans kind of day, I suppose.” She smiled sweetly at Harry. “They’re just regular glasses, by the way… I was too lazy to put in my contact lenses this morning.”

“So, I have a couple of questions for you,” Harry asked after hesitating for a moment. “In a little bit, would you mind quizzing me? I have Herbology, History, and Defense tomorrow. I think I know the material, but I could use a little extra practice.”

“Of course,” replied Ana with a sweet smile. “What else is on your mind?”

Harry took a deep breath. “D’you know Samantha Goldfarb by any chance?” he whispered.

Ana gave Harry a strange look. “Yeeeah… why are you asking?”

Harry looked down at the table. In a small voice, even quieter than before, he elaborated. “She’s… the girl that got lost with me yesterday afternoon… she’s in the infirmary – she’ll be there for a week, and I was wondering if you could bring her classwork and tutor her during her stay.”

Ana’s eyebrows scrunched as she ruminated. “She’s in my year, but she isn’t my housemate… I think it would be more convenient to have her roommates to bring her homework to her.” Her expression softened, and another sweet smile came to her lips. “That said, I’d be happy to tutor her, if she needs it. I won’t be able to do it every day, but I can swing a tutoring sesh or three.”

“Just be careful of the orderly, Madam McTeague,” warned Harry. “She’s kind of a strict lady… not as bad as Madam L, but she’s not that far off. You might want to secure permission from Frye so you can spend more than thirty minutes with her.”

“That’s Professor Frye, Harry,” corrected Ana with a lopsided grin. She opened her bag and produced a single piece of parchment, and began writing a quick note. “D’you mind if we pay the owlery a visit when we’re done? I’m sure Professor Frye will have a response by tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” replied Harry. “If you want to use Hedwig, I’m sure she’d be delighted.” He then grinned so brightly that it practically illuminated the entire table. “Oh, I think it’s official… Nova and I are friends now. She’s coming with me this Thanksgiving… she wants to meet her birth parents, and my godfather Sirius.”

Ana returned the smile. “That’s awesome, Harry. She’s spent the past two Thanksgiving holidays at the castle… while I’m sure the Pukwudgies go all-out preparing the feast, I’m sure it’s incredibly lonely too. I’m sure she was touched by your gesture.”

“She didn’t say ‘yes’ right away,” admitted Harry. “It took her a few days to decide; in fact, I originally asked her to come over for Christmas, but last night she asked me if it could be Thanksgiving instead. I’m fine with either, really.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly friends when you asked her,” replied Ana thoughtfully. “And I’m sure once you two found some common ground, it started becoming a lot easier to talk to each other.” She raised an index finger. “Don’t be surprised if she starts boo-hooing like a girl half her age when she gets to Surrey… seeing her parents for the first time since she was an infant will be an emotional experience, to say the least. My advice is to be patient with her, and give her whatever space she needs.” She shrugged. “She’s not going to be stealing your guardians from you, but it’s a huge opportunity for her to reconnect, so if they seem a little less attentive to you than usual, there’s good reason for it. I’m sure it’ll be just as emotional for your aunt and uncle.”

“I s’pose you’re right, Ana,” whispered Harry. “Besides, my godfather will be there, and it might be opportunity for just him and me to bond. Most of the time it’s all four of us, so it’ll be nice to chill with ol’ Padfoot.”

“Padfoot?” giggled Ana. “That’s an interesting nickname. I wonder how he got it.”

Harry shrugged. “He’s had it since he was a Hogwarts student. He’s told me some stories about his time there, but that was before I knew he was, y’know, a wizard. I wish I could have seen things from his eyes – I’m sure that there’s a lot of stuff he’s left out!”

“Weeeellll,” Ana said, a sneaky grin daring to tug on her mouth. “There’s a chance I might be going to Scotland this term… Hogwarts hosts an interscholastic Quiz Bowl every year, usually on Good Friday. That’s the Friday before Easter…”

“I know what Good Friday is,” replied Harry, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Ana just started at Harry for a second, before continuing. “So, the interscholastic Quiz Bowl is traditionally held at Hogwarts around that time, and four schools are represented – Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. Hogwarts has traditionally dominated the series – geez, talk about home-field advantage – but it’s an honor to be invited to participate just the same.”

“So, what do you have to do to get invited?” asked Harry. “That sounds like a really cool opportunity.”

Ana smiled. “The Horned Serpents need to secure the Ilvermorny Quiz Bowl Cup – and despite our scholarly reputation, it’s not a given we win each year. There are five Quiz Bowls – once a month, from October through February – and the house with the highest running point total after all five games is awarded the Cup.”

“I like the Horned Serpents’ chances,” chuckled Harry. “They have you.”

Ana’s cheeks turned deep pink. “Well, thank you, Harry, but I’m just one team member. I can’t win it all by myself.” She thrust a quill toward Harry’s textbooks. “I’m enjoying our little chat, but we also need to devote some time to studying – can you give me about thirty or forty minutes, and then I’ll quiz you?”

Harry nodded, and cracked open his Herbology textbook.

Chapter 27: The Orb of Exuberance

Chapter Text

For the next week, Harry did his best to keep his head down and avoid conflict. Serving detention was embarrassing enough, but getting lost whilst serving it was something the rest of the school wouldn’t live down. A minor incident broke out during their weekly flying lesson at the proving grounds, but Harry was determined to not let it escalate.

While Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah were cleaning and polishing their broomsticks, Flynn Replogle and his cronies couldn’t resist the temptation to mock the three Horned Serpents.

“Hey, scar-head,” Replogle clucked. “Heard ya got lost while serving detention. I’m surprised you came back all in one piece! Goldfarb sure didn’t… rumor says she might not be coming back next year. If she doesn’t, the whole school’ll blame you!” His goons, Lowell Madigan and Philip Bungus, chortled at the jabs.

Harry glared at the trio. “I don’t care,” he spat. “Samantha doesn’t blame me, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day.” Tallulah smiled at Harry, and nodded her approval.

“She doesn’t matter at the end of the day,” Replogle grumbled. “She’s just another Commoner – she’ll never amount to anything in the wizarding world even if she graduates.” He jabbed a thumb to his chest. “Old Money wizards like me have always run the show – and they always will. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. You’d best remember that.”

Harry seethed. “There’s a lot more to being a wizard than having money and influence,” he argued. “And there’s a lot more to her than what you believe… you could stand to learn from her example. She’s honest, she’s kind, she works hard… all of which are foreign concepts to you!”

Before Replogle could retort, a loud ahem came from the other side of their broom upkeep tables. Both boys turned to their left and saw a glowering Coach Croom giving them a steely glare. “I woulda thought that y’all would have learned your lesson by now,” he grumbled. He fixed his glare on Harry. “Especially you, Mister Potter. Considerin’ you’ve just served detention, I’d imagine you wouldn’t be bucking for another one so soon?”

Harry shook his head. “Erm, no sir…”

Croom nodded curtly. “That’s what I thought, Potter. Now, ya’ll best get back to maintaining your brooms… if y’all can’t stop harassin’ each other, then I have no problem flunking you and having you repeat Introductory Flying next term.” He shook his head and grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath as he turned heel and continued making his rounds.

Once everyone had returned to their stations, Tallulah just shook her head at Harry; her shoulder-length loose auburn curls jiggled about. “I don’t know why those idiots can’t just leave you alone, Harry.”

“It’s because they think they’re better than me and will take every opportunity to let me know it,” sighed Harry. “Replogle and his lackeys may come from rich, powerful families but I’d take mine over theirs seven days a week, and twice on Sundays!”

“I feel the same way, Harry,” agreed Tallulah. “I don’t come from a rich family – either by magical or non-magical standards – but I was raised to respect other people, even those less fortunate than myself.”

“Hear, hear,” chimed in Othniel. “Replogle wouldn’t know what he’d do if he woke up tomorrow morning, flat-broke!”

***

After lunch the next day, Harry met with Professor Lupin in his office for the third time in as many weeks. To Harry’s delight, a chalice with puckerberry juice and a puckerberry jelly roll awaited him.

“Hello, Harry,” greeted Lupin with a friendly grin. “I hear your friend Miss Goldfarb is mending rather nicely… to my understanding, she may never fully realize her potential as a witch, but her faculties are still intact enough for her to continue her magical education.”

Harry returned the grin. “Good afternoon, Professor. Yeah, I’ve visited her a couple of times. She was very happy to see me, that’s for sure. And my friend Anastasia’s already spent a couple of hours tutoring her… Samantha was very appreciative.”

Lupin chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Miss Harrison is so much like your mum.”

Harry’s face suddenly brightened. “Oh, I invited Nova Woodward to Surrey for Thanksgiving. She said she’d be excited to come with me, and meet her birth parents. I know the past two Thanksgiving breaks had to have been lonely for her. I just owled my aunt and uncle a couple of nights ago just to make sure they’re cool with it.”

“As luck would have it,” Lupin replied, “earlier this week I’ve received an invitation from your aunt and uncle, and your godfather Sirius to join them for the Thanksgiving holiday… so it’s a distinct possibility that the three of us will be traveling together.”

“Wow,” exclaimed Harry. “That’s awesome!” He co*cked his head. “Have you ever been to Canada?”

“I’ve spent a little bit of time in the Toronto wizarding district,” admitted Lupin. “But I’ve never been to British Columbia, so it’ll be my first time in that part of the country.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “You look like you have something on your mind, Harry. A question, perhaps?”

Harry bit his lip. “Erm, maybe? I mean, I guess I do, but I don’t know if you’re the one who can answer it… how well do you know Ilvermorny’s history?”

Lupin chuckled. “I don’t necessarily know everything about Ilvermorny, but I’ve read quite a few texts on the school’s history, and I’m also aware of a few legends that may be equally factual as they are fiction.”

“Okay,” sighed Harry. “D’you know anything about an orb? Like, this really, really powerful wand? When I got my wand a couple of weeks ago, this wizard… sage, I think is what he really is, he told me that my wand is exceptionally powerful, but there’s another wand out there that’s even more powerful than this… if it gets into Lord Voldemort’s hands, he could destroy the world.”

Lupin inhaled as he steepled his fingertips. “You must be referring to the Orb of Exuberance, a legendary wand that’s rumoured to be so powerful that it can cast whatever spell the holder is thinking, without the need of incantation. In other words, it gives them the power to use magic – strictly from the force of will. Their magical core is amplified many times over; for example a basic disarming spell would be more powerful by several magnitudes. It can make the beholder virtually invincible.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “So, is that orb actually, y’know, real?”

Lupin blinked before nodding. “I have every reason to believe that it is… according to legend, the witch who tried to overtake Ilvermorny shortly after its founding, Gormlaith Gaunt, made a blood pact with the fallen angel Lucifer. In exchange for thirteen mortal souls, he crafted an unholy wand from dogwood, and used a fragment of one of his own teeth as the core. He gave it to Gormlaith, who intended to use it to get back at her niece, Isolt Sayre, who was one of the founders of Ilvermorny. With that wand, Gormlaith terrorized colonial America – both magical and non-magical alike – and almost certainly would have laid claim to our school, along with her followers, when by sheer luck, a Pukwudgie named William fired an arrow that pieced her heart.”

“Whatever became of the wand?” asked Harry, completely fascinated by Lupin’s tale. “And what exactly is a Pukwudgie? Isn’t that one of the Houses here?”

“Gormlaith’s body was burned, but Chadwick and Webster Boot – two of the founders of Ilvermorny – were unable to come to a consensus on how to destroy the relic, so they simply buried it deep below the castle in hopes it would never be found.”

A sudden rush of anxiety coursed throughout Harry’s body. “I… I think I have an idea where the Orb is.” He looked at Lupin with a pained expression. “Please keep this to yourself if you can help it.”

Lupin nodded. “I’ll keep it to myself, unless it’s absolutely vital that the Headmaster should be made aware.”

Harry sighed, and looked down on the floor. “When I was down in that underground tunnel with Samantha a few days ago, there’s this bright grotto… it looks sort of naturally-made, but it also looks like it was partly crafted by humans too. Not far from where we found that Typhon, there was this door that looked like it was sealed tighter than Fort Knox. There was something that was just, I’unno… beckoning me to open the door, even though I don’t think I know how. It wasn’t really a voice, more like… a force of sorts… I can’t help but wonder if the Orb was hidden somewhere behind that fortified door.”

Lupin just stared at Harry blankly, befor rubbing his fingers through his short, grizzled beard in thought. “I have no reason to doubt you… after all, you were able to communicate with the Typhon, whereas I think it’s highly unlikely there’s a single student or faculty member that can utter a single syllable of Parseltongue.”

His lips then curved upward into a slight smirk. “As for your other question… Pukwudgies are short magical creatures, not unlike goblins or house-elves, that have been a part of Ilvermorny’s heritage ever since its birth. They are reclusive by nature, and generally distrusting of humans; yet they are brave and loyal. If it weren’t for William’s intervention over three hundred years ago, Ilvermorny as we know it, wouldn’t exist!”

“So… are you going to tell Professor Fontaine that I think I know about the location of the Orb?” Harry asked.

Lupin look at Harry thoughtfully for a moment, before replying. “Not today. I see no reason to broach the subject when there should be ample security to deter nearly any mortal.”

“Can it be destroyed?” asked Harry. “Surely there’s a way to do it…”

“There is,” sighed Lupin, “but to my knowledge it requires the use of dark magic… Fiendfyre can destroy it, but it’s an utterly destructive and chaotic spell; so much so that the caster’s own survival is not guaranteed.”

Harry could only gulp.

Lupin chuckled. “Well, I suppose it’s time for me to get ready for my next class. Perhaps we can discuss some… lighter topics the next time? And you’re welcome to invite Miss Slater and Mister Beckett, if they find it agreeable.”

Harry grinned. “Sounds good, Professor. See you next time!”

***

Friday morning at breakfast, Ana squealed in delight as the school owls fluttered in the Mess Hall and delivered parcels and letters as per usual. The unmistakable Hogwarts seal meant only one thing – it was a response from her friend from across the pond, Daphne Greengrass. She eagerly tore into the letter and digested every stylishly-written word… Daphne’s penmanship was nothing short of divine; certainly a notch better than Ana’s, who had lovely handwriting skills of her own.

Ana couldn’t help but smile at the photograph of a tiny eleven-year old blonde bombshell. Daphne’s smile looked so nervous, Ana thought. Daphne’s Gryffindor uniform strongly resembled Ana’s Horned Serpent uniform, except for the color scheme.

“Lemme see,” Tallulah beckoned as Ana whipped out a parchment and a quill. Ana handed over Daphne’s photo to Tallulah, who grinned. “Oh, she’s cute. I wonder who styles her hair!”

“She probably has it charmed,” replied Ana. “She comes from a magical family, so I’m sure beautification charms are like second-nature to her.” Her grin broadened. “And yes, Daphne is a very pretty girl.”

Tallulah then handed the photo to Harry, who nodded in approval. “She is rather pretty,” he murmured. But not as pretty as Ana, he finished mentally. He then handed the photo to Othniel, who let out a loud, shrill wolf whistle.

Smek!

Tallulah swatted Othniel on the elbow, and followed it up with a sharp glare. Othniel, in turn, gave Tallulah a dramatic eye roll before giving the photo back to Ana. She scarcely paid any attention as she was already writing her reply.

“20 September 1991

Dear Daphne,

I’m glad to hear you’re liking your house, and your overall experience at Hogwarts so far. I have heard of the Gryffindor house… I have a friend named Nova whose father was sorted in Gryffindor over twenty years ago, as a matter of fact!

To answer your questions, ‘blood purity’ isn’t really a thing in magical North America; rather, we have two groups – Old Money families, who have a disproportionate amount of power in MACUSA, and Commoners, which over eighty percent of witches and wizards fall under (myself included). It’s possible for Commoners to get lucrative congressional positions after gradutation, but much more difficult without family connections.

I love reading in my free time… Fantasy, romance, mysteries, you name it! I’m not very good at painting I’m afraid, but I do love music. Like yourself, I enjoy singing, but I also play the piano and violin. My favorite food are tacos, but I love lasagna too!

Oh, there’s a chance I might be coming to Hogwarts in the spring… I made the Horned Serpent Quiz Bowl team this term as a starter, and if my house wins the Ilvermorny Quiz Bowl Cup, we get to represent Ilvermorny for the Interscholastic Quiz Bowl Competition! Maybe we’ll get to meet up!

And here are two photos of me. The first is me in my formal robes (we just wear them for certain occasions) – they are rather similar to yours, except for the color scheme, and the second is what I wear most days – it’s a lot more comfortable if you ask me! And thank you for sending me the very nice picture of yourself – you’re a very lovely girl.

With love from Ilvermorny,

Anastasia”

She then rolled up the parchment, and whistled for Hedwig, who took the note and fluttered out of the Mess Hall along with the rest of the school owls.

Chapter 28: Chatting with Nova

Chapter Text

After class got out Friday afternoon, Harry, Tallulah and Othniel made their way to their common room to get started on their Herbology essays. They didn't make much headway when a cheerful hello interrupted their schoolwork. Harry was the first to turn around; he couldn't help but grin when he saw Nova grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, hey there, Nova," greeted Harry. "What's new?"

Nova shrugged. "Not much, really – TMIF!" Othniel co*cked his head in confusion; Tallulah giggled and whispered the meaning in his ear. "Anyway Harry, d'you mind if I see you for a sec? In private?"

Harry nodded, and took his leave from his classmates. He followed Nova to the opposite side of the common room, and took his seat across from her.

"So… did you owl your aunt, uncle, and godfather about Thanksgiving by any chance?" Nova asked in a soft voice. "I know it's two months away, but I'd feel better if you went ahead and asked them early instead of making it a last-minute surprise."

"I did," replied Harry. "I sent it out earlier this week. I haven't heard back yet, but it may be another week as Surrey in Canada is just about as far away as the Surrey in England."

"Thank you," whispered Nova with appreciation. "I've been longing for this opportunity ever since I got my acceptance letters from Hogwarts and Ilvermorny. I can't help but feel overwhelmed… there's so many questions I have for my birth parents."

"I'll do my best to let you reconnect with them and not get in the way," offered Harry. "Besides, it'd be an opportunity to spend some quality one-on-one time with my godfather." A smile slowly crept on his face. "Oh, and Professor Lupin will be joining us. I don't know if he told you, but he's an old friend of the family."

Nova nodded. "Yes, he's told me that he's a friend of my parents and Sirius Black. But I wasn't aware that they invited him to join us. I'm not going to lie, it might be a little awkward having a teacher over…"

"I think it'd be cool," countered Harry. "He says I can call him Remus outside of class… so when he's not teaching, he's kind of like another Sirius."

Nova groaned. "Lucky. He never told me I could call him by his first name."

"I haven't called him Remus yet," admitted Harry. "I mean, I've known him for less than a month… I may do it in time, but the comfort level just isn't there yet." He grinned at his friend. "By the way, you haven't told me… did you make the Horned Serpent quidditch team yet?"

Nova returned the smile, and nodded. "As a matter of fact, I found out earlier this week. I'm made it as a reserve chaser again. I was hoping to be a starter, but the sport's dominated by upperclassmen, so it'd probably be at least another year before I crack the starting rotation, maybe two." She shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just glad to be a part of the team."

"Hey, just making the team is a pretty big deal," said Harry. "And I'm sure Ana told you she made the Quiz Bowl team?"

Nova's eyes widened. "Of course… and that girl is unreal, Harry. There are sixth and seven year students that tried out and didn't make it. A second-year student on the Quiz Bowl team is rare enough, but to be selected as a starter? That happens just a couple of times per generation…"

"I'm very happy for her," replied Harry. "She's not just smart; she studies her rear end off. She really deserved her spot." He tilted his head just a few degrees. "Another personal question, if I may?"

Nova smiled sweetly. "I suppose that depends on how personal your question might be." She wasn't able to let a small, high-pitched giggle escape. "Fire away, mate."

"Soooo," Harry began, "d'you regret choosing Ilvermorny over Hogwarts? I know you wanted to escape your grandparents and all…"

"There are days I do," admitted Nova with a small sigh. "It's where my father went… where my grandparents went… where many of my forebears went. Ilvermorny isn't as ancient as Hogwarts, but it's every bit the academic powerhouse that Hogwarts is… and in some ways, it's actually superior. Hogwarts is prestigious, but the British wizarding world is stodgy to a fault; they dislike change so much that a lot of the stuff on their curriculum hasn't been changed in two hundred years."

Nova shook her head, and forced a small smile. "For the record, I don't hate my grandparents… far from it. I truly love them as I never went without; they were firm but very loving… but as I've told you before, they uphold certain ideals that I disagree with, even though they've tried to instill them in me since I was a very small child." She let out a small, frustrated groan. "They weren't shielding me by covering things up – much of which I deserve to know – they were just shielding themselves from their own shame."

Her eyes welled with tears. "I don't care that my actual mum's a Muggle… a no-maj. From what you've told me, she sounds like a super sweet lady that would have encouraged me to study magic even though she isn't magical herself. I can't wait to meet her."

"Why didn't you just accept your grandparents' views?" asked Harry. "I mean, most kids fall in line with how they were raised…"

"Because I know right from wrong," Nova replied. "How would you like it if you were told that you couldn't attend a magical school because you were born to a nonmagical family? Or if you were denied a prestigious position in MACUSA or the Ministry of Magic because your grandmother was a Muggle-born? It's such bullsh*t because a lot of witches and wizards that come from pureblood or Old Money families are pitiful when it comes to magical prowess or leadership skills. There are so many from outside the inner circle that deserve a shot, but just don't because they have the wrong last name."

Harry shrugged. "I… I guess I never really thought about it that way. I don't really have a strong opinion one way or the other because I'm still quite new to the wizarding world…"

"If I had to guess, as you're the Boy-Who-Lived, they had to restrain themselves magically, and limit what information they told you about the magical world," Nova said. "I know it doesn't mean much to you here, but you're a very big deal in Magical Britain." There was another high-pitched giggle. "Oh Harry, I can't imagine all the little groupie witches surrounding you, begging for an autograph… or a date to the Three Broomsticks!"

Harry gave Nova the biggest eye-roll he was able.

Nova winked at Harry. "And you can deny it all you want, but I think you've got a little bit of a crush on Anastasia…"

"Do not," Harry roared with defiance.

"She's a rare breed, Harry," Nova squeaked. "Most witches aren't nearly as smart or as pretty as her…"

"She's a friend, and nothing more," grumbled Harry.

Nova giggled again. "You say that now, Potter, but just wait a couple of years… you'll change your tune. And I also guarantee you'll have competition for her affections…"

Harry could only glare at Nova. "Can we… can we just change the subject already?"

Nova gestured toward Othniel and Tallulah. "I've probably taken enough of your time, so I'll let you get back to your homework."

The following Friday at Hogwarts, Daphne Greengrass all but squealed with delight as she got her second letter from Anastasia. She took a couple of whiffs of the envelope before opening it.

"What's it smell like?" asked Lavender. "My namesake, perhaps?"

Daphne shook her head and smiled. "No, it smells faintly of hibiscus. Anastasia's got good taste." Her smile grew broader and broader as she went through the letter.

"Oh, it looks like Anastasia sent a picture or two this time," noted Parvati. "I'm curious to know what she looks like!"

Daphne's face practically glowed when she got to the photos. "Oh Merlin," she squeaked. "She's very pretty… she looks so beautiful in her formal robes – her hair's gorgeous! And her daily uniform… I'm so jealous! I wish we had those!"

"Let me see," beckoned Parvati. She let out a joyful squeak. "You weren't kidding, Daph. She really is a lovely girl…" She turned to her other side, and threw a silly grin at another young Gryffindor girl in her year. "I told you it's possible to be both bright and attractive, Hermione," she giggled. "Daphne's pen pal Anastasia can pull it off… why can't you?"

Hermione Granger bore a certain physical resemblance to Anastasia, but her medium-brown hair was exceptionally bushy, and instead of an impeccable smile, she wore a rather uncomfortable set of stainless steel braces on her teeth. "I have better things to do than to primp and preen for an hour each morning," she mumbled.

Lavender let out a high-pitched giggle. "Yeah, it takes a metalmouth like you about an hour just to take off that hideous headgear you have to sleep in and brush your teeth, so I can see why you don't… aaaigh!"

Daphne chucked Lavender in the shoulder. "That wasn't very nice, you know." She then smiled at Hermione. "You're perfectly cute just the way you are."

Hermione smiled weakly at Daphne. "Thanks," she said in a soft, shy voice. "You know how self-conscious I am about my teeth. I still have to wear these nasty things for two more years…"

"I don't know much about Muggle technology," admitted Daphne, "but if they really are meant to straighten your teeth… I'm sure you'll have a gorgeous smile when it's all said and done." Her smile broadened. "I know you don't think you're very attractive, but that couldn't be further from the truth. If you want us to help you with your hair or anything, ask us! We'll be glad to help!"

Hermione nodded slowly, before returning to her Miss Marple book. "I'll… I'll think about it."

Daphne flashed a smile at her housemate. "I hope you like the book we got you for your birthday. I'm afraid we still don't know you all that well, so it's the best we could do, short-notice…"

Hermione smiled coyly at Daphne. "I really do… it was so thoughtful and unexpected. I've never gotten a birthday present from outside my family before… thank you so much. I'll be sure to return the favor, whenever that is…"

Daphne giggled. "It's a ways off… the first of June."

Hermione broadened her smile. "That won't be hard to remember."

That afternoon, when Daphne and her roommates returned to the Gryffindor common room for their free period, she began writing her reply to Ana:

"27 September 1991

Dear Anastasia,

Thanks for writing back! I just got your letter this morning and I love your photos… you're a very pretty girl yourself! You look divine in your formal robes (the teal and gold motif is a flattering look for you!), and I'm so jealous of your daily uniform – I wish we wore something like that instead of these itchy things all the time!

Old Money and Commoners, huh? That just sounds like different terms for the same concept as in Magical Britain – the same groups are always in charge and everybody else is left to fight over the scraps. It's a bunch of B.S. if you ask me, and I belong to what you'd call an "Old Money" family!

Wow, you're on the Quiz Bowl team as a second-year? That's, very, very impressive… I'll be pulling for the Horned Serpents! It would be so cool if you came to Hogwarts to compete – I'd love to meet you in person! And I'm sure my housemates would love to meet you too!

I knew we had some common ground… my mum makes the best lasagna ever! I've never had it Muggle-style, but I'm sure it's really tasty too! And I'll be honest – I've never had tacos before. I guess it's more of a thing in the States? I'll try and make it a point to visit one day!

With love from Hogwarts,

Daphne"

Chapter 29: A Hairy Situation

Chapter Text

Back at Ilvermorny the next Monday, Harry was surprised to see Professor Fontaine standing behind the podium as he took his seat in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Some of the already-seated students began whispering amongst themselves – it was not usual for a professor to have an unannounced absence.

Professor Fontaine waved his hands up and down to get the commotion to die down. “No need to panic, class,” he assured the confused first-year students. “Professor Lupin is feeling just a little bit under the weather today and I promise he will return for Wednesday’s lecture. I will do what I can in his stead; thank Merlin he was kind enough to lend me his notes…” He shuffled his papers and cleared his throat. “Let’s see… everyone open your texts to page 93.”

If there was one thing the impressionable first-years appreciated about Fontaine’s teaching style, his voice was clear and his methods were deliberate and concise. He clearly knew the subject and knew it well, but his approach was a far cry from Lupin’s enthusiastic and occasionally unorthodox style. Harry mentally admitted to himself that he even missed Lupin’s somewhat high-strung demeanor – he preferred moving about the class as he taught, not to mention his occasional facial tics… Harry wondered if Lupin might have had a mild nervous condition of sorts; regardless, he just never seemed to be completely comfortable in the classroom.

Before he dismissed the class, Fontaine informed the students that they were to write a brief one-and-a-half page essay on the differences between jinxes, hexes, and examples of each, and that they were to hand it in to Lupin when he returned on Wednesday. Considering it was somewhat shorter than some of the previous assignments they’ve received for Defense, few students complained – not even Othniel uttered so much as a peep of frustration.

Harry was in the middle of packing his things when he heard the Headmaster call for him. “Oh, Mister Potter? Could you stay behind for just a moment please?” Fontaine’s expression was impassive, but Harry’s conscience was clear as he didn’t do anything wrong to his knowledge. Harry remained standing at his desk until his classmates had vacated the room.

Harry relaxed as he saw Fontaine nod and smile. “I won’t keep you but for just a few seconds,” he promised. “I just wanted to let you know that your friend Miss Goldfarb has been discharged from the infirmary Friday afternoon, and has been most anxious to resume her classes. She also sung Miss Harrison’s praises as a tutor.” His smile grew. “Professor Goode takes her duties as the Quiz Bowl administrator quite seriously… while it’s certainly uncommon for second-year students to be selected as participants, I think her judgement was quite sound when appointing Miss Harrison as one of the Horned Serpent representatives… it wasn’t all that long ago when the Deputy Headmistress herself made the team as a third-year Thunderbird. She was a victim of bad luck as a second year… five out of the eight Thunderbirds were seventh-years, if memory serves, and the other three were either fifth or sixth-years… sorry, I’m getting off track. I know you were concerned about her and I just wanted to share the good news personally. That’s all I have, Harry.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Harry respectfully. “I know she’s glad to get back to her normal routine, and that she didn’t have to stay any longer than expected.”

***

After dinner in the common room, Anastasia provided a most stunning revelation to Harry, Tallulah and Othniel.

“Erm, can you guys keep a secret?” she whispered. Her eyes narrowed and her next words were little more than than an ominous hiss. “I’m going to hex you to next Friday if any of you utters a single syllable…”

“Erm, alright,” gulped Harry. “What’s so top-secret that you have to threaten us to keep quiet?”

Ana scanned the room for any eavesdroppers, and waved her first-year friends to come closer. “I think… I think Professor Lupin’s a werewolf,” she said in a barely-audible squeak.

“A what?!” yelped Othniel, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down.

“Shhhhh!” Ana whisper-shouted. She looked like she was about to give Othniel a hard slap across the cheek, but let out an exasperated sigh instead as she drew her wand. “I’m not taking any chances… muffliato!” She then spoke in a more normal voice. “I said, I think he’s a werewolf.”

“Wow, Ana,” gasped Harry. “Not even Nova can cast that yet… how’d you do that?”

Ana giggled. “Professor Rudiger showed me last year. It took some practice, but I got it down.”

“Soooo. what makes you think that he’s a werewolf?” asked Tallulah, who didn’t seem fully convinced. She then arched an eyebrow. “D’you think that has anything to do with his absence today?”

Ana nodded. “It has everything to do with his absence, Tallulah.” She then pulled open a lunar calendar. “As you can see here, last night was a full moon.”

“Well, maybe,” countered Harry. “But that could be just a coincidence…”

“It could be a coincidence,” agreed Ana, “but last Thursday after Potions, I saw Madam L hand a strange-looking elixir to Professor Lupin. I haven’t seen anything like it before, but I saw enough of it to try and identify it.” She then pulled out a strange textbook from her backpack. “This is an advanced Potions textbook I checked out from the library.” She flipped to a bookmarked page and showed her three friends a picture of the concoction, which looked like a chalice with blue fumes emanating from it.

“Wolfsbane potion,” Ana explained to her friends. “It’s used to alleviate some of the effects of lycanthropy – it’s not a cure, but it keeps those inflicted with the condition sane while transformed. Unfortunately, there is no cure for lycanthropy… if there ever was, it’s a secret that’s been lost for ages.”

Othniel shook his head in confusion. “Lycan-whaaa?”

“Lycanthropy,” Tallulah finished. “It’s a more technical term for the condition that affects those like Professor Lupin.”

Othniel pointed at Tallulah. “Got it.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than just one potion,” continued Ana. “He has to take a potion a day for a week straight prior to a full moon, otherwise the benefits of Wolfsbane may be rendered null and void. It’s a very, very tough condition to live with… most werewolves are indigent because they’re outcasts in the wizarding world. Very few have stable jobs and a lot of them end up committing suicide because lycanthropy is both literally and figuratively painful to deal with…”

“Professor Lupin is awful lucky then,” said Othniel.

“He’s extremely lucky, Othniel,” replied Ana. “Professor Fontaine knew he was taking a risk with this hire – you’d better believe he and the rest of the Ilvermorny staff are doing everything they can to keep his condition under wraps, because if word gets out that there’s a werewolf teaching Defense… both Lupin and Fontaine will be unemployed…”

“I don’t care if he’s a werewolf,” huffed Harry. “He’s a good teacher. And he cares for his students.”

Ana nodded. “He’s a very good teacher… arguably better than Professor Whitten, who was more than capable himself. Now, d’you see why it’s so important that this does not leave the room?”

Harry, Tallulah and Othniel all nodded.

***

The next morning was another running day for their morning physical training session. Harry and Othniel helped set the pace for Tallulah. The boys noticed a bit of improvement on her part as she could run somewhat faster, and for longer distances. Her arms and legs were beginning to show hints of muscle tone, and even a little bit of the baby fat was disappearing from her cheeks.

“At this rate,” panted Othniel, “you’ll be setting the pace for us by the end of term!”

“I highly doubt that,” grunted Tallulah between gasps. “I’m still nowhere near as good as either of you…”

“You’re beginning to catch up… you didn’t even finish last in your sprint heats earlier,” remarked Harry. “I’m sure Missy has noticed… aww crap!” Harry was suddenly off to the side of the track, and holding his left foot.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” asked Tallulah, who jogged in place while checking on her friend.

Harry groaned. “I might have rolled my ankle… definitely doesn’t feel good.”

“Can you put any weight on it?” asked Othniel.

Harry put his foot down, but bit his lip in the process. “A little bit, yeah, but it’s pretty sore. I can kind of gimp around but I won’t be able to go full-throttle for a bit.”

“Should we ask Missy?” offered Tallulah. “She’s probably seen this before.”

“Sure, why not,” Harry replied with a shrug. “You two just go on… I’ll try and hobble for the next few minutes; we’re almost done anyway.”

“Just be careful, Harry,” pleaded Tallulah. “I don’t think you’re hurt bad, but you definitely don’t need to make it worse.” She and Othniel began weaving their way around the track to find Missy the trustee, while Harry limped and gimped near the edge of the track.

Harry plodded about as well as he was able for a couple of minutes, when a trio of troublemaking Thunderbirds came up from behind him… thud! Replogle stuck his foot out as he passed Harry, and the smaller boy face-planted on the track. Harry’s already-slightly swollen ankle began to throb, but using his anger as fuel, he got up and ignored as much pain as he could while he tried to track down his three laughing assailants.

Harry caught up to Replogle, and jumped on his back. Crack! He landed the hardest right hook he could muster straight at Replogle’s jaw, who collapsed in a heap on top of him.

“C’mere, pipsqueak,” grunted Replogle as he got up from the track. Harry’s face turned white – his ankle had now swollen to the size of a medium-sized grapefruit and at that point, he couldn’t put any weight on his left foot – he was completely at Replogle and his cronies’ mercy. Two big hands picked Harry up off the ground, and held him steady off the edge of the track.

“All right, boys,” Replogle said with a nod to Madigan and Bungus. “Make it quick, and make it painful.” Madigan and Bungus smirked as each other, and let several punches fly towards Harry’s breadbasket. It was all over in a matter of seconds – a flurry of smacks left Harry gasping for air, and again he collapsed in a fetal position off the side of the track. He was too sore to even attempt to get up, so he just laid there battered and beaten for several minutes until help arrived.

The first to arrive on the scene was Ana. She gasped with horror when she saw how Harry looked. “Oh my God,” she squeaked. “Harry, are you okay?”

Harry looked at Ana and forced a smile. “Ehh, I s’pose I can say I’ve been through worse.”

Ana shook her head. “You look like you’ve fought the Sasquatch and got flattened pretty badly… here, let me help you up.” She put her arm around Harry’s shoulder and helped him to his feet. “I’m not going to leave you,” she cooed. “So, what all happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Harry sighed. “I must have somehow rolled my ankle about ten minutes ago, so I told Othniel and Tallulah to just go on ahead without me. I just kind of hobbled along for a few minutes when Replogle and his goons tripped me up… I wanted to show them my lack of appreciation so I just bit my lip and gave the big gorilla the hardest punch I could manage… it must have been a big hit because he fell to the ground on top of me… on top of my bad ankle.” He then bared his teeth angrily. “He then picked me up, and squeezed my shoulders so tight that if his grip was any stronger, he might have broken my collarbone. He made sure I stood still while his minions took potshots at me, and then just left me to wither on the side of the track…”

“The Replogles are bad news,” replied Ana. “They’re all a bunch of troublemakers that think they can get away with everything, because well… they pretty much can. They’re one of the most powerful wizarding families in North America… it’s a lot harder to expel him than most other students, unfortunately…”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that’s what Samantha said. The wizarding world is really, really unfair sometimes…”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” groaned Ana. “I study my ass off in the hopes that maybe I can break the glass ceiling and become MACUSA President one day… but pretty much every notable MACUSA position has always been held by an Old Money member, or someone very, very close to one of those families.”

“I think you can do it,” said Harry. “I’d love for you to prove everyone wrong… the wizarding world definitely needs some new blood.”

Ana smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Harry.” She then pointed toward a blonde ponytailed figure on the opposite side of the track. “Oh, I think I see Missy. Just… be honest with her. She may give you a demerit for throwing a punch, but she’s very reasonable as well. She can probably make your ankle feel a little better too – I’m not the best with healing spells yet.”

Two minutes later, Missy stopped by the side of the track to address Harry and Ana. “All right, what happened here?”

Harry told Missy everything… including the bit about him striking Replogle. Missy simply stood and let him finish the story, before producing her wand. “Episkey,” she whispered as she pointed it toward Harry’s sore stomach and ankle.

“Wow,” Harry exclaimed. “They feel a bit better already… thanks, Missy!”

Missy smiled at Harry. “You’re welcome, Potter. I know you’re not a troublemaker, plus you were honest with me, so I won’t give you any demerits… this time. I’ll see if I can talk to Professor Goode today and see if there’s any way that she can keep Replogle and his entourage away from you and your friends.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve been the target of his older brother Flavius before… I’ve had to learn to defend myself from any… unwanted attention he seems to give me. I know it’s difficult to ignore them, but next time he gives you any trouble – just look for me. I’ll be more than happy to put him in his place.”

Her smile broadened. “You’re beyond fortunate to have a future trustee looking out for you like that.” She winked at Ana. “All right, you two. We have only a few minutes left before cooldown time. Do the best you can, Potter, and if you have to walk, you have my permission.”

Chapter 30: Promise of a Cure

Chapter Text

At around seven thirty, Harry had cleaned up and changed into his daily uniform, and headed downstairs to join his housemates for breakfast. His stomach and ankle were still a little sore, but the episkey spell Missy cast was helpful, without a doubt. At the very least he appreciated that his gait was only somewhat impeded, and that with the following day being a calisthenics day it afforded him an additional day of rest.

“Harry!” Tallulah squeaked as she saw him approach the Horned Serpent table. “I heard about your scuffle with Replogle and his gang earlier. I hope you’re all right…”

Harry chuckled softly to himself as he took his seat. “I’m no worse for the wear…”

“I’ll say,” Ana remarked. “I saw you curled up in a ball beside the jogging track maybe forty five minutes ago… now you look strong enough to yank the antlers off a jackalope!”

Othniel tilted his head. “Wait – those things are real?”

Ana rolled her eyes, then went back to her western omelet.

Tallulah’s eyes widened as she pointed toward the faculty table. “Oh look, Professor Lupin’s back! That’s good to see…” Lupin looked to be his usual self, as he was lost in conversation – even laughing – with Professor Clemente.

The din of the mess hall was abruptly interrupted with a flurry of owls. A particularly large brown spotted owl dropped a rolled-up parchment in front of Ana’s plate, which she unfurled without delay:

“24 September 1991

Dear Miss Harrison,

I hope this note finds you well. As such, I formally welcome you to the Horned Serpent Quiz Bowl team – I have complete confidence that you’ll be a most worthy addition to our prestigious program.

The first team meeting will be held in my office this Thursday at 4:30 PM. Please be advised that all meetings are mandatory, and tardiness or unexcused absences will not be tolerated. Failure to abide by these standards will result in disciplinary action – up to and including permanent disqualification from the Quiz Bowl team.

If I don’t address all of your questions or concerns during the meeting, you may approach me afterwards and I’ll be happy to discuss them with you.

Sincerely,

Sen. Prof. L. E. Frye”

Tallulah arched an eyebrow. “Quiz Bowl?”

Ana smiled and nodded. “Yup. Got my first meeting Thursday after class.”

“Right on,” added Othniel. “Are you excited?”

“Definitely,” squeaked Ana. “I’ve watched last year’s competitions… I knew a lot of the answers and it just sort of boggles the mind how often upperclassmen just freeze up and blurt something out without thinking.”

“Don’t say it can’t happen to you, Ana,” warned Harry. “You’re probably the smartest person in our house… but even talented people struggle with pressure.”

Ana sighed. “I know, Harry… outside of the two years I spent on the softball team – I’ll pretend they never happened – I don’t really have a lot of experience being on an organized team. I know a lot of pressure’s going to be on me, but I think I’m up to the challenge.”

“You’re going to rock it, Ana,” Othniel said with conviction. “And I know this sounds kinda weird, but for a girl that’s amazing at thinking… you might not want to overthink.”

Ana giggled. “You’re probably on to something there. And that’s easier said than done!”

***

That Thursday afternoon, Harry, Tallulah, and Othniel paid Professor Lupin a visit during their free period. Although Harry appeared to be unfazed, both Tallulah and Othniel bore apprehensive looks, which was justifiable considering what Anastasia revealed to them earlier in the week.

“Hello, Harry,” Lupin said warmly. “I see you’ve brought your housemates with you this time. Very good.” He turned to Tallulah and Othniel. “Hello, Tallulah. Hello, Othniel. Welcome to my humble office… would any of you care for some puckerberry juice? Perhaps a puckerberry jelly roll, a pumpkin pastie or the like?”

“Yes, Professor,” the three children replied. Lupin flicked his wrist, and a pitcher of juice poured some of the familiar greenish-yellow liquid in three cups, which floated directly to the children’s outstretched hands. He then opened a cabinet, and grabbed a small tray with various pastries and placed it on his wooden desk.

Lupin grinned at the youths. “Help yourselves.” The children eagerly began to dig into the pile of goodies.

Tallulah dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin once she had finished her pumpkin pastie and drink. She then threw Lupin a somewhat-nervous look. “Erm, Professor Lupin? I’ve got a rather… personal question for you…”

Lupin nodded. “What’s on your mind, Tallulah?”

Tallulah began trembling, and couldn’t meet the professor’s eyes. “Erm, sir… are you… are you a werewolf by any chance?”

Lupin raised an eyebrow. “Whatever gave you that idea?” To Tallulah’s shock, he didn’t appear angry – if anything, he almost seemed amused, as if he were resisting the urge to chuckle.

“Your absence on Monday… it coincided with a full moon, and last week Anastasia saw Madam L handing you a potion – a wolfsbane potion I think it’s called – I guess she kinda put two and two together.”

“If it’s true,” chimed in Othniel, “your secret’s safe with us. We won’t tell anyone, honest.”

“We don’t care if you are,” Harry confirmed. “You’re one of our favorite teachers… if there’s a cure for your condition, we’ll help you find it.”

Lupin’s expression remained impassive. “Your friend Anastasia is quite astute, as always.” He made just the barest of nods. “Not many witches or wizards – irrespective of age – would have guessed that.” He let his head droop, and let out a small, soft sigh. “It’s true… I’m afflicted with lycanthropy.” He then turned at Harry and smiled. “I appreciate your empathy, and I wish there was a viable cure for my condition, but as it stands… the only one I know of is suicide…”

“That’s the easy way out,” Tallulah blurted. “Professor Fontaine obviously saw something in you to get the position of Defense professor… you’re worth far more to this school alive.”

“I’ve toyed with the idea of suicide more times than I care to admit,” Remus half-whispered. “It’s been a rough few years after I graduated from Hogwarts, I assure you… but teaching has renewed my sense of purpose.”

“So… how did you become a werewolf?” asked Othniel. “Was it something you were born with?”

Lupin shook his head. “Werewolves aren’t born… they’re made. Many years ago… when I was even younger than you three, I was attacked by another werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. He has the reputation for being the most fearsome werewolf in the British Isles… his bites and scratches have infected more people – magical and non-magical alike – than any other known werewolf. Unfortunately, not all of his victims have survived his attacks, but it’s possible that death may be preferable to lycanthropy.”

“Have you attacked anyone?” asked Othniel. “You seem so nice, I can’t imagine you wanting to hurt anyone.”

“The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone,” replied Lupin. “For the public’s protection, I’ve been hidden away each full moon. Even if it was just for a day, it was very lonely not being able to see my friends… a least until they learned how to assume their animagus forms.”

“Animagus?” squeaked Tallulah. “Like, transforming into an animal?”

“Precisely,” murmured Lupin. “Once my friends learned of my whereabouts every month, the all eventually learned to shapeshift into various animal forms so that I wouldn’t have to be alone every full moon… Sirius assumed the form of a large black dog, Roger’s was a kangaroo, James transformed into a stag, and…” His voice trailed into little more than a bitter-sounding creak. “Peter took on a rat.”

“Why did they have to shapeshift to visit you?” asked Harry. “Did it grant them some sort of protection against your werewolf form?”

Lupin smiled at Harry. “Correct, Harry. Werewolves are known to target humans specifically, as it’s exceedingly rare for them to attack other species. By assuming animal forms, my friends were free to visit me without fear of being harmed.”

Harry looked his professor in the eye. “I’m going to help you find a cure one day, Professor. You have my word.”

Lupin placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I appreciate the sentiment, Harry, but I’m afraid that’s going to be next to impossible… even in the magical world.”

Despite Lupin’s pessimism, Harry remained stoic and undeterred. “It’s not impossible, sir. There is a cure out there… I don’t have proof, but…I just know it. It may take a long time – years even – but I promise you, we’ll find it for you.”

“I wish I had your blind faith,” replied Lupin with a faint smile, “but if you’re right, you’ll have my eternal gratitude.”

***

Later that afternoon, Ana knocked on Professor Frye’s office door. “Come in,” purred the Horned Serpent house head. “Oh good, you’re nearly fifteen minutes early for the meeting, Miss Harrison. Please, have a seat in the meantime.” Over the next several minutes, the rest of the Horned Serpent Quiz Bowl team assembled in Frye’s office for the first official meeting of the term.

Some of the older students eyed Ana suspiciously, and even mumbled amongst themselves before the meeting commenced. An upperclassman, likely a sixth or seventh-year student, mumbled something along the lines of, “what is that runt doing here?” to one of his friends. Ana did what she could to ignore the looks of disapproval from her teammates, but the immediate rejection stung her harder than she ever could have imagined.

After the meeting finished a half hour later, Morgan Doolittle, a squat fifth-year girl with short chestnut hair and chocolate brown eyes, stopped Ana in the hallway. She narrowed her eyes and sneered at the younger girl. “You don’t belong on the team, Harrison,” she growled. “You’re not one of us. You stole a spot which rightfully belongs to one of your elders.”

Tears threatened to spill down Ana’s cheeks. “But I made the team fair and square,” she replied. “Professor Goode said I was good enough to compete.”

Morgan’s arrogant façade only intensified. “Professor Goode is a Thunderbird. She only put you on the team to improve her own house’s odds at winning the Quiz Bowl Cup.” She shook her head in dismay. “You’re just a little girl that barely knows anything about magic.”

“I’ve studied my ass off to finish top of my class last term,” Ana said, as hot, angry tears streamed out of her hazel eyes. “I know a lot more than you think.”

“Doesn’t matter,” spat Morgan. “I think I speak for the rest of the Horned Serpent team when I say that your presence isn’t exactly appreciated. If I were you, I’d quit now, and save our house the embarrassment…” Ana stormed off toward the Horned Serpent tower in a distraught state, as Morgan snickered to herself in satisfaction.

Twenty minutes later, a still-sobbing Ana felt the gentle touch of someone’s hand on her shoulder.

“Hey there, Anastasia. Is there something I can help you with?”

Ana looked up and saw the smiling face of Missy the trustee. “Oh, hi Missy,” she wheezed. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this… apparently my teammates don’t think I’m experienced enough to be on the team… one of them even told me I should quit…”

“They’re just jealous of you,” Missy assured Ana. “Most of your teammates didn’t get in until at least their fifth year. I made the team last year – on my third attempt, no less – but I decided against trying out this year as I wanted to more fully focus on my trustee duties.” Her smile broadened. “Pay them no mind. You’re the brightest witch of your year… and truthfully, one of the brightest in all of the wizarding world. Professors Frye and Goode wouldn’t have selected you if they didn’t think you had what it took to be a member of the team.”

“Morgan Doolittle said that Professor Goode only selected me to improve her own house’s odds of winning the Quiz Bowl,” Ana murmured. “Regardless if that’s true or not, that’s just a mean thing to say.”

“Thanks Missy,” replied Ana. “I wish you were on the team… I wish I had you to back me up.”

“I know you do,” agreed Missy. “Your teammates might not appreciate you much right now, but you’ll prove your worth soon enough.”

Chapter 31: Taking a Walk

Chapter Text

At breakfast that Friday morning, both Harry and Ana got a letter when the school owls made their rounds in the Mess Hall. Ana read her letter from Daphne with gusto, while Harry finally got his long-awaited reply from Surrey:

“23 September 1991

Dear Harry,

I can’t believe your first month at Ilvermorny is almost finished! I hope you’re enjoying your classes so far, and are minding your professors. I’m sure you’re spending plenty of quality time with your friend Anastasia, and I’m glad to hear that you’ve got a couple of new friends in your year. Othniel and Tallulah sound like delightful children too.

As far as the actual purpose of this letter goes, I’ll try to be as concise as possible. I know I owe you an explanation, Harry, and I promise we’ll sit down during the holiday and have a heart-to-heart discussion - you certainly deserve that much. I know a lot of your revelations at Ilvermorny could only be described as a rude awakening, and for that I am truly sorry.

That being said, I’m glad that you and Nova have formed a positive relationship. She’s not just your friend - she’s your foster sister. Your aunt and I have been waiting many years to see our daughter again; truthfully we were afraid it would never come. My heart sings with joy knowing that our family will feel complete for the first time since well, ever.

As you probably know by now, your Defense professor, Remus Lupin, will also be joining us for Thanksgiving. You don’t need me to tell you this, but you truly are in capable hands with Remus as your teacher. I’m glad he’s been given a chance to do something meaningful for the first time since the war… that man has been through more hardship than most men go through in five lifetimes.

Your Aunt Rhonda and godfather Sirius also love and miss you very much. None of us can wait to see you again. Until then, study hard and try not to get in too much trouble (after all, you’re a Potter, so a little bit is almost to be expected!)

Love,

Uncle Roger”

“Who’s that from, I wonder?” asked Othniel, pointing a fork at Harry’s letter.

“My family back in Surrey,” replied Harry. “Thanksgiving plans.”

“Ahh,” replied Othniel. “That’s less than two months from now, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be good to be back home for the week. What about yourself?”

“I’unno, dude,” replied Othniel with a small shrug. “I’m kinda undecided. I know I’m going back for Christmas, but part of me is thinking about staying at the castle for Thanksgiving. I’m sure I won’t be the only one staying put if I decide to stay. We often go to my grandparents’ place in Montana for Thanksgiving. It’s a long enough ride on the train – I don’t feel like spending another eight-plus hours in the car!”

“I feel ya,” agreed Harry. “Just when you’ve stopped to catch your breath, it’s like you gotta go back! A week off from school is nice and all, but practically half the time off is spent in the subway system!” He turned to Tallulah. “What about you? D’you have any plans?”

Tallulah giggled. “I’m definitely going back home. I reckon we’ll go to my grandparents, but it’s not a big deal since they live less than an hour away from us.”

Harry forced a thin smile. “I wish I had grandparents to visit… I’m just glad to have the family that I do have.” He was about to ask Ana about her plans, but decided against it as she looked deep in thought as she was writing her reply to her friend Daphne at Hogwarts. She had just finished her letter in the nick of time, as the school owls were already beginning to depart when she had just signed her letter. Even Hedwig gave her a hoot that probably could have been best-translated as hurry up! “Sorry, Hedwig,” she murmured as she stuffed the letter in the envelope and hastily addressed it to Daphne.

***

The following Monday was the last day of September. The mornings had gotten a little nippier, and many of the deciduous trees had begun to shed their leaves. After their morning exercises concluded, Harry mustered the courage to ask Ana something on their way back to the castle.

He looked at her with a rather nervous expression on his face. “Erm, Ana? May I ask you something?”

Ana smiled at Harry. “Of course, Harry. What’s up?”

Harry couldn’t help but stutter slightly. “It looks, erm… it looks like it’s going to be really nice today. We have a shared free period this afternoon. Would you… d’you think you’d like to go on a walk with me…”

“I’d be delighted, Harry,” Ana replied softly, denying Harry the chance to finish. “Now, I have some studying to do, not to mention I have to devote some extra time prepping for the term’s first Quiz Bowl, which is just a couple of weeks away, but I can spare a few minutes.” She looked eastward and smiled at the sunrise. “And you’re right. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Great,” replied Harry. “Thank you… I don’t do a lot of things, y’know, with just you.”

“Of course,” giggled Ana. “Just look for me in the library when you get out of Defense.”

After Harry’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class wrapped up, he quickly excused himself from Othniel and Tallulah, and bolted toward the school library as fast as he could. Just like last time, he found the familiar visage of a petite brunette girl near the very back of the library. Ana was so dedicated with her studies that she hardly noticed an even smaller boy approaching her table.

Harry tapped Ana on the shoulder, causing her to practically jump from her seat. “Oh Merlin,” she yelped. “You scared me a bit, Harry!”

“Sorry,” Harry breathed. “You looked really busy with your studies… I feel kinda bad for interrupting you…”

Ana smiled sweetly at her friend. “You’re fine, Harry. I’m nearly finished anyway. Five more minutes, and we can head out?” Harry returned the smile and nodded.

As promised, Ana packed up her books, parchment and quills just a few minutes later, and followed Harry outside the castle. The weather was absolutely perfect – neither too warm nor too cool, with the gentlest of breezes blowing, and the sounds of various songbirds creating a most magnificent symphony.

“I don’t think either of us could have asked for a more perfect day,” sighed Ana. “There probably aren’t too many of these left before winter comes.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted to go on a walk with you outside while we still could,” Harry replied. He cleared his throat. “So, when exactly is the first Quiz Bowl again?”

“It’s two weeks from Friday,” Ana said. “It’s held in the Mess Hall and it’ll be right after dinner.”

Harry nodded. “So you’ll be competing in front of the whole school then?”

“Yeah,” murmured Ana. “I’m not going to lie, it has me a little nervous.”

Harry looked into Ana’s hazel eyes. “You’re the smartest girl I know, Ana. I’m glad you’re taking this Quiz Bowl business as seriously as you are, but you also need to relax some… overpreparation can be just as bad as not being prepared enough.”

Ana sighed. “I know… one of my biggest fears is letting my house down… letting the people I care about like you down. I’m aware that I have a reputation for being a bookworm or a teacher’s pet, but if I muck things up, you’re going to laugh at me…”

“Anastasia,” Harry snapped in a somewhat sharp tone. “You can get every single one of those questions wrong and it’s not going to change the way I see you. When I met you at Nessel Road two months ago, I could already tell that you’re, well, special. My godfather Sirius and my aunt and uncle agree… and Professor Lupin says that you’re probably the closest thing to my mother that he’s ever met.” Again, his green eyes met Ana’s hazel ones. “I never truly knew my mother, but the way he said it… it was a very kind and genuine compliment.”

Ana blinked away a tear. “Thank you Harry,” she whispered. “I’m not gonna lie… I’m not really used to being complimented… sincerely complimented. I’ve only had a handful of friends before Ilvermorny; most of my old no-maj classmates thought I was a stuck-up know-it-all that thought I was better than everyone else. I never truly meant to come across like that… even here at Ilvermorny some of my classmates resent me because I often prefer to study over socializing. It’s not that I don’t want to make time for friends; far from it. I just want to make something of myself someday is all, though I will do what I can to help others along the way.”

“Loads of people think you’re helpful,” confirmed Harry. “Othniel, Tallulah and I all do. Samantha Goldfarb does… most of your professors do; I’m sure there are others.” He shook his head. “If anyone has a problem with you, then they really have a problem with themselves because you’re doing things they can’t, or won’t.” He flashed a friendly smile. “I have no doubt you’re going to do some amazing things someday, but you’re already a great witch.”

Ana returned the smile. “And you’re already a great wizard.”

“Sooooo,” Harry said, trying to change the subject, “what are your plans for Thanksgiving, if any?”

Ana shrugged. “Probably the same as last year – go home to my family in South Bend. That said, the temptation is there to stay at the castle and just study…”

“You probably need to go spend time with your family,” suggested Harry. “I know how you roll – you can bring a couple of textbooks along with you, but even smart girls like you need some time to unwind.” He stopped in his tracks for a brief moment. “Oh, did I tell you that Professor Lupin will be joining my family for Thanksgiving? My family invited him… I actually think it’s really cool – I’m sure he’s got lots of awesome stories that he’ll probably share with me that he might not necessarily share in class.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Ana. “He must really be dear to your uncle and godfather for them to invite him…”

“They definitely go way back,” confirmed Harry. “They were very close friends during their time at Hogwarts, so I’m sure getting back together is going to do all of them a lot of good.” He glanced down at the dusty path before him. “Erm, Professor Lupin confirmed that he’s a werewolf, by the way.”

Ana arched an eyebrow. “Did you ask him yourself?” she asked in a somewhat stern tone.

“Uhhh, yeah,” Harry whispered, his cheeks a deep pink.

“I thought I told you to keep that to yourself,” Ana grumbled.

“But it’s Professor Lupin himself,” argued Harry. “I wasn’t going to bring it up with anyone but him. He was surprised for sure, but he said that you’re incredibly clever for figuring it out, as a lot of fully-trained witches and wizards wouldn’t have deduced that so quickly. He really, really thinks highly of you.”

Ana blushed. “I would have thought it to be rather rude to ask him like that, point-blank, but thanks for confirming my findings.” She smiled sweetly at her friend. “And maybe next year, we could spend Thanksgiving at the castle? It’d be nice and quiet for sure…”

“It’d be an opportunity to explore for sure,” agreed Harry. “I might be down for that.”

Ana shoved Harry playfully. “I knew you were gonna say that. Now, there’s a lot of hidden rooms and passages in the castle that most students aren’t aware of, including myself. I’m not going to lie, I do have a bit of an itch to see what secrets Ilvermorny hides… though I’d have to imagine some of them are not meant to be discovered.”

“Well look at you,” chuckled Harry. “Miss Goody Two-Shoes has a bit of an adventurous streak in her.”

Ana threw Harry a devilish grin. “There’s quite a bit you don’t know about me yet, Mister Potter.”

Chapter 32: Preparations

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Daphne got her long-awaited reply from Anastasia on the first Friday of October. Her face glowed as she hastily opened the envelope and read its contents:

“4 October 1991

Dear Daphne,

It’s good to hear from you again! I can’t believe September is almost over – it practically flew by! In just a couple of weeks, our first Quiz Bowl competition starts – I could use some good vibes! I’m not going to lie, I’m actually quite nervous… I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of the whole school! I’m the only second-year student of all four houses so I feel a lot of pressure to succeed.

How many different uniforms do you have at Hogwarts? We have three – in addition to our formal robes and our daily uniforms, we also have workout uniforms for mandatory physical exercise each weekday morning. I don’t know if Hogwarts has anything like that…

I’ve included a picture of my cat Scaggs. He’s a big ball of fluff – he’s always kept me warm on chilly nights! He can be a bit of a stinker sometimes, but usually he’s a sweet baby.

I also like the name of your furbaby. Erebus was the primordial Greek god of darkness, so it is pretty fitting for a black cat! I’ve also heard of Kneazles – according to legend, they can ‘sniff out’ suspicious people. Does Erebus react to shady people at times?

Let me know if you and your family ever decide to visit! My family lives near Chicago, to give you an idea where I’m from. They might not be magical, but I promise they’re good people.

I can’t wait to get your next reply. Please pay attention and study hard – I’m sure you already do, as you come across as a very bright girl – but the stickler in me just wants all my friends to succeed, whether at Ilvermorny or Hogwarts!

With love from Ilvermorny,

Anastasia ”

“Oh, what a pretty baby she’s got,” cooed Daphne as she admired the photograph of Anastasia’s massive brown and grey-striped Maine Coon.

“Hey! Let me see,” came a high-pitched squeak from across the table. Daphne covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a giggle before handing the photo to Hermione. A large, rare smile appeared on her face, exposing her orthodontic work in all its glory. “Wow, what a cute, fluffly bundle of love… I wish I had one like that.”

“Didn’t you say you had allergies?” asked Parvati with an arched eyebrow.

“I don’t have allergies, but my parents do,” Hermione clarified. “Hence the reason I’m not allowed to have pets besides goldfish.”

“Or perhaps the real reason is, your parents thought your brace-face might scare away those poor animals,” snickered Lavender. Daphne cleared her throat and threw Lavender a look of clear disapproval.

“Would you stop teasing Hermione about her teeth already?!” she growled; her last few words crescendoed into a near-shout. “That poor girl can’t help it; she’s self-conscious enough as it is without getting commentary from the peanut gallery! How would you like it if she made fun of that big old birthmark that runs from behind your ear and down your neck?”

“I wouldn’t like that at all,” huffed Lavender. “I’ve been teased about it when I was younger… it was a little hurtful.”

“See, it can go both ways,” replied Daphne in a much gentler tone. “And since you have a frame of reference, you really should be a bit more sympathetic.”

Lavender turned toward Hermione. “I’m sorry for making fun of your teeth. I know you don’t like the way you look right now, but Daphne is right… you’re a beautiful girl exactly as you are, and you will have a lovely smile once those things come off. I promise to do a better job of not making fun going forward, okay?” Daphne nodded approvingly, and Parvati offered Hermione a friendly smile.

“Thank you,” murmured Hermione.

“We really ought to do something about that persistent bedhead of yours,” added Parvati. “Like Daphne said before, if you want us to give you a bit of a hand, just let us know! We might not know a lot of makeover charms yet, but we’ll do what we can to help.”

Hermione’s eyes looked upward in thought. “Hmm… maybe a French braid, or a halo braid would be nice…”

“How about tomorrow morning?” offered Daphne. “We can see how things go tomorrow, so you can wow your parents when you see them for Christmas break! They’ll hardly recognize you!”

“That’s fine,” sighed Hermione. “Just try not to take all day… we do have a fair bit of studying that we really need to get done.”

Daphne giggled. “With the three of us, it shouldn’t take long at all.”

***

Back at Ilvermorny that same day, once she had finished her last class of the afternoon, Ana darted to Professor Frye’s office to attend her second Quiz Bowl meeting of the term. Frye was deep in discussion with Professor Goode, ostensibly about the upcoming Quiz Bowl, but she noticed the girl in the corner of her eye and addressed her with a warm smile.

“Make yourself comfortable, Miss Harrison,” Frye said, gesturing toward her office door. “Don’t worry about waiting for me – we’ll start at 4:30 on the nose.”

Ana plopped her heavy bookbag on the ground and took a seat in one of several plush armchairs. She quickly took out a quill, some ink and some parchment just in case there was anything important for her to write down. She waited quietly for the rest of the team to assemble; to pass the time she buried her nose in a classic Agatha Christie mystery novel.

As luck would have it, Morgan Doolittle was the next student to take her seat in Frye’s office. She threw Ana a sharp, spiteful glare. “I see you haven’t taken my advice to quit the team. If you’re so insistent on being on the team, then at the very least keep your mouth shut and let the upperclassmen handle everything. Your presence is neither wanted, nor needed.”

Ana didn’t even bother giving Morgan the satisfaction of a response; she didn’t even look up from her book.

Morgan’s sneer grew so large that if it was any larger, it would have engulfed the entirety of her face. “Did you hear what I just said, Poindexter? Your sole purpose on this team is to be seen and not heard… I will not have a measly second-year tarnish the good name of the Horned Serpent house!”

Ana gave Morgan a brief, impassive glance before returning to her mystery.

Morgan stormed over to Ana and looked ready to tear into the smaller girl. “I’m talking to you, Harrison. Don’t you dare ignore me, you pitiful…”

A sharp, yet familiar soprano growl emerged from behind Morgan. “That’s enough, Doolittle. That’s the second time you’ve stepped out of line regarding Miss Harrison. She has earned the right to be here; as such, she deserves a far higher degree of respect than what you’ve shown so far.”

Morgan turned around to address the stern figure. She rolled her eyes at her ponytailed blonde classmate. “Ludwig,” she hissed. “I should have known you were prowling the halls, eavesdropping on conversations that don’t pertain to you… ever since you’ve gotten what should have been my trustee sash, you’ve been practically bucking for a chance to pull rank on me.”

“It is my business if I catch one of my fellow Horned Serpents harassing another student,” retorted Missy. “And I don’t care if you have a problem with Ana being on the team. You can either accept her as your teammate, or you can take it up with Professor Frye.” She narrowed her eyes and drew her wand. “For the record, I don’t need to pull rank on you, Doolittle. If you think yourself so much better than me, then name the time and place and prove it.” She enunciated her final words in a low, deliberate manner. “I really don’t think you’d like the outcome should you try to push your luck.”

Morgan’s fingers waggled as she considered reaching for her wand, but just as quickly retracted after giving it a moment’s thought. A greasy smirk crept on to her face. “Tut tut, Ludwig. Were you just trying to goad me into a witch’s duel? That’s conduct rather unbecoming of a trustee, wouldn’t you think?” The smirk then evaporated, and she turned her nose up in the air. “No matter. I reject your proposal on the grounds of you being my social inferior.” Her nasty smirk returned with a vengeance. “But don’t worry… you’ll get your just desserts one day, whether by my hand or by fate.”

Missy didn’t back down. “The next time you harass or threaten another student – I don’t care if they’re a Horned Serpent or not – you’ll have me to deal with. And the sash will come off.”

“And I’ll make sure the sash stays off,” grumbled Morgan as Missy turned around and left the office. “For good.”

Just as Missy and Morgan finished their spat, the rest of the Horned Serpent Quiz Bowl team made their way into the office, followed by Professor Frye.

Frye clapped her hands once and nodded toward the members of the Quiz Bowl team. “Thank you all for coming this afternoon – as you all should know by now, our first competition is coming up two weeks from today. For those of you who are not familiar with how Quiz Bowls work, there are three rounds per competition. The first round is what’s called the ‘toss-up’ round; that is, any player from any team may hit their buzzer to answer the question. It consists of thirty questions, and each correctly answered question is worth ten points.”

She paused momentarily, then continued. “The second round is what’s known as the ‘lightning round’. All four houses, in turn, will be asked a series of questions – worth five points each – and the goal is to answer as many correctly as possible within two minutes. Remember that your buzzers will be turned off temporarily when another house is up. And finally, the third round is the ‘bonus round’. Each team may wager as many – or as few – points as they’d like. The final round consists of a single question, and all team members – including alternates, as this the only round they may take part – may be included in a one-minute huddle to discuss and answer the final question. Is everyone with me so far?”

After a few nods and rounds of “Yes, Professors,” Frye then handed out parchments to each of the Horned Serpent team members. “The scope of the questions will be limited to those of the six core classes: Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, and Transfiguration. In addition to your textbooks, questions may also come from these volumes, all of which are unrestricted in the school library. You may have to share as there is a finite number of copies.”

***

At dinner that evening, Harry noticed that Ana was a bit quieter than usual; not that she was a particularly loquacious girl to begin with, but there was something about her demeanor that was a bit odd to him.

“Hey Ana,” Harry said in between bites of his meatloaf. “You’re kinda quiet this evening… is everything alright?”

Ana gave Harry a thin smile. “Yeah, Harry… just busy is all. I have my first Quiz Bowl competition coming up in two weeks, and I just have a lot to prepare for is all.” She sighed. “I promise I’m not forgetting about you, but the Quiz Bowl is a pretty major commitment… I probably won’t be able to study with you as much.”

“Oh,” replied Harry with some disappointment. “I mean, I s’pose you gotta do what you gotta do…”

“I’ll still study with you guys some, it’s just not going to be as frequent,” Ana clarified. “It’ll probably be that way until the spring at least, and then we can resume our normal routine again, or at least find something close to it.”

“Unless the Horned Serpents win the Quiz Bowl cup, and you get to go to Scotland,” chimed in Tallulah. “You’ll probably have to study harder than ever for that.”

“That’s in April, so there’ll be well over a month for us to go over the final exam material when I get back,” said Ana. “Assuming the Horned Serpents win the Quiz Bowl cup, of course. The other three houses have some sharp players too, don’t forget.” She smiled at her friends. “Look, you guys are all pretty bright. I don’t mind helping you, but I also don’t want you to depend on me to pass all your classes. You need to learn to study for yourselves… it’s not all that hard. It just takes some discipline is all, and the three of you can quiz each other.”

“So, what do you recommend we try?” asked Othniel. “Do you have any studying suggestions?”

“Weeellll,” replied Ana, “there’s SQRRR – survey, question, read, recite, review… pretty tried-and-true. That’s what I fall back on if I don’t have a ‘study partner’. There’s also the Feynmann method, or ‘teach-it-back’, where you go over what you just learned in class and try to retell it to a friend as if they were listening for the first time.” She smiled sweetly at her friends. “We can try those in person this weekend if you’d like. I can probably spare an hour or two, but not much more than that.”

“All right,” sighed Harry. “I appreciate whatever help you can give us, but it’s just not going to be the same without you.”

Chapter 33: Whodunit?

Chapter Text

This series is being recorded in audiobook style! Join my Discord server every other Tuesday for a live recording session with a professional voice-over artist, the one and only Sam Gabriel! The next session will be Tuesday 13 February 2024 at 11:00 AM, Central Standard Time.

The next Wednesday morning, Harry, Othniel, Quentin and Jeremy woke up to the loud holler of Iskandar Aziz, a sixth-year trustee, but it wasn’t the usual call of reveille. “Morning physical training has been cancelled today. Everybody has thirty minutes to get dressed in their formal robes for an emergency meeting. In addition to Professor Frye, the Deputy Headmistress herself will be conducting a surprise inspection – you will need your wands.”

“I wonder what this is all about,” Harry wondered aloud. “We’ve never deviated from our usual morning routine like this before.”

“I have no idea,” replied Othniel as he hastily began dusting off his formal robes. “Something’s definitely up.”

“My brother said this happened once last year,” added Jeremy. “He said a Pukwudgie and a Wampus engaged in a wizard’s duel after curfew… the Pukwudgie kid lost his right hand and had to get fitted with a magical gauntlet. Nobody else fessed up as to who the other party was, so they did a wand check. When they discovered who the second wand belonged to, they expelled both students, and gave their respective seconds fifty demerits… ten detentions.”

“Why do people duel? That’s just… insane,” groaned Othniel. “Can’t people settle their differences by playing a game or something less brutal?”

Quentin shook his head sadly. “Pride and honor. Generally speaking, commoners find wizard duels to be utterly barbaric, but amongst the Old Money crowd, it’s the traditional way to settle disputes. Usually it’s over a girl, or a perceived slight against another prominent family… from what my sister says, wizard duels are a thing in Magical Europe too.”

“I’ll have to ask my Uncle Roger and godfather Sirius,” said Harry. “Professor Lupin too. They’re from Magical Britain… I’m sure they can back that up.”

Twenty minutes later, Harry and his roommates met up with a hundred fifty other Horned Serpents in a very cramped common room. Professors Frye and Goode stood in front of the fireplace, ready to address their charges. Goode had a stoic expression on her face, but Frye’s countenance was utterly blanched – Harry could tell that something dreadful must’ve happened the night before.

Professor Goode’s impassive gaze must have hidden feelings of shock and anguish, as none of the students were prepared for the announcement she was about to make. “Students,” she began, “we regret to inform you that one of your own was found deceased in the girls’ lavatory in the wee hours of the morning. We cannot rule out foul play, so as a formality, we must temporarily confiscate all of your wands for forensic testing.”

Harry’s heart pounded. His mind first went toward Ana, but breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw the petite brunette on the opposite side of the room. He offered her a smile, but she didn’t appear to notice him. His eyes darted around the room to look for Tallulah, and cracked a small smirk when he saw the girl sitting with Gallifrey in her lap, most likely for comfort. She looked rather distraught… Harry felt horrible for the petrified girl. And finally, Nova. His heart pounded faster than ever trying to find her, but his heart sank when he failed to locate her. Anybody but Nova, Harry repeated to himself mentally. She can’t be dead…

Professor Frye then took over. “As a result of this tragic incident, classes are cancelled for the day. In addition to wand testing, the trustees will be assisting us in inspecting your uniforms. Demerits will be doubled for any discrepancies we find…”

“If there is a silver lining,” added Goode, “we are not singling out the Horned Serpents. All four houses will be thoroughly inspected.” She lowered her voice to a husky creak. “Any students we deem suspicious will be brought directly to Professor Fontaine for further questioning.”

“Once the inspection concludes, you may change into appropriate no-maj attire if you wish,” said Frye. “And be advised – pay extra close attention to the bulletin today. There may be some changes to your daily routine.”

Missy then hollered for her fellow Horned Serpents to create four lines across. Once all the Horned Serpents got in formation, four trustees went through each line to collect every student’s wand, and inspected their uniforms. Harry’s uniform was virtually spotless, though Othniel’s sweater vest was slightly wrinkled. To both boys’ relief, neither of them received any demerits.

The inspection had concluded by seven – the trustees dismissed their housemates, and remained behind to be inspected by Professor Frye. Harry didn’t dawdle – he bolted to his dormitory to put on a sweatshirt, cargo pants, and some Chuck Taylor sneakers. He then bolted downstairs for breakfast, but mostly out of habit as much of his appetite was taken away by the sudden change in his schedule. He cracked a huge smile when he saw the unmistakable face of Nova. Unlike Harry, she seemed to be in no hurry to change as she remained in her formal robes, so he scooted himself over to her side of the table.

“Hey Nova,” he said in a shaky voice. “Am I glad to see you!”

Nova smiled and shrugged. “Oh, hello Harry. How are you?”

“Better, now that I know that you’re okay,” replied Harry. “I was really worried because I couldn’t find you in the common room a little bit ago… for a moment, I thought that the student we lost… was you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” said Nova. “I wasn’t trying to hide from you on purpose.”

“It’s a big house,” admitted Harry. “There’s what, about a hundred sixty Horned Serpents?”

Nova nodded. “Something like that, yeah.”

Harry then lowered his voice. “So… d’you know which student it was?”

“I… I wish I didn’t,” sighed Nova. She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, mate. It’s probably no one you know anyway… she was a fifth-year. One of those stuck-up Old Money divas. Honestly, she won’t be missed much.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “D’you know who did it?”

“Beats me,” Nova said. “I know that a lot of people didn’t like her… a lot. Even then, I don’t think anyone disliked her enough to want her dead.” She cupped her hand over Harry’s ear. “I don’t have proof, but I don’t think it was a student that killed her…”

Harry reeled back. “Why d’you think that?”

Nova lowered her head. “Because… how about we discuss this later in a more private setting? I don’t think the mess hall is the best place.”

“Fair enough,” whispered Harry. “Ana knows the muffliato spell or whatever it’s called, if you’re comfortable inviting her. Speaking of, I’m going to check on her…”

“Sounds good, Harry,” purred Nova. “See you in a bit.”

Harry spied Ana near the opposite end of the Horned Serpent table. Like Nova, she was still in her formal robes, with her lovely russet hair draped in shiny, loose curls again. She was completely immersed in a thick textbook, so he got her attention by gently tapping her on the shoulder. “Good morning, Ana.”

“Oh, good morning, Harry,” replied Ana in a sweet lilt. She was wearing her glasses again this morning, but they couldn’t hide her red, puffy eyes, as if she had been crying.

“You seem kinda upset,” Harry murmured. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Honestly, probably not,” Ana said with a rather dejected-sounding sigh. “It’s been a rather rough morning, in more ways than one…”

Harry lowered his voice as much as he was able. “The girl’s body they found… did you erm, know her?”

A teardrop streaked down Ana’s cheek as she nodded. “Yeah… Morgan Doolittle… she was one of my teammates on the Quiz Bowl team. She and I didn’t get on well…”

Harry winced. “You didn’t have anything to do with… that, did you?”

Ana’s jaw dropped. “Harry… how could you ask something so obtuse? Just because we weren’t friends doesn’t mean that I’d ever wish any ill-will against her… she didn’t deserve whatever happened to her. I feel horrible for her family…”

Harry lowered his head shamefully. “I’m sorry Ana; that was wrong of me… but do you have any idea who might have done it?”

Ana nodded. “It’s okay, Harry… and I have no clue, to be honest. I know a lot of people didn’t like Morgan, but I highly doubt anyone disliked her enough to want her dead.”

“That’s what Nova was thinking,” replied Harry. “D’you wanna meet up with her in private sometime today? I mean, you can cast a muffling spell which can keep prying ears away…”

“Maybe in the library,” suggested Ana. “Or some other quiet place as I’m sure that the common room will be exceptionally boisterous today.”

“Or perhaps the choir room,” offered Harry. “Nova and I have used that before, and that’s about as private as it gets.”

“That could work,” hummed Ana. “Maybe after I’ve had a chance to get changed into something a bit more comfortable?”

Harry grinned at his friend. “Sounds good.”

***

About two hours later, the Horned Serpent common room was bustling with commotion. A gaggle of students huddled around the bulletin board, where a most unsettling announcement in big bold letters was listed at the very top of the notice:

“FROM THE HEADMASTER: AFTER A THOROUGH INSPECTION OF ALL STUDENT WANDS, NO TRACE OF UNAUTHORIZED MAGIC HAS BEEN FOUND. ALL CLASSES ARE SCHEDULED TO RESUME TOMORROW MORNING, BEGINNING WITH PHYSICAL TRAINING. THE MACUSA DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT HAS BEEN NOTIFIED; IN THE MEANTIME WE FULLY PLAN TO CONTINUE OUR INTERNAL INVESTIGATION.

UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, STUDENTS ARE RESTRICTED TO THEIR RESPECTIVE COMMON ROOM AND DORMITORY AREAS WHEN NOT IN CLASS OR ATTENDING PHYSICAL TRAINING. STUDENTS ARE TO BE ESCORTED TO AND FROM CLASS BY TRUSTEES. EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES ARE TEMPORARILY ON HOLD.”

“This sucks,” grumbled Linus Foulke, a lanky ginger-haired third-year student with a noticeable gap between his front teeth. “Some sanctimonious girl goes and offs herself, and now we can’t do anything without having our hands held?”

“You don’t know that,” argued Alia Scarborough, a short, stocky fourth-year Black girl with twin braided pigtails. “None of us do. The only thing they’ve crossed off is that Doolittle’s death wasn’t caused by another student.”

“But did they check her wand?” asked Katrina Rubin, a squat seventh-year girl with short, curly dark hair and exceptionally thick glasses. “Or did they check the faculty members’ wands? It’s unlikely that a teacher or staff member would attack a student, but they shouldn’t be exempt…”

A few other Horned Serpents chimed in with their theories; meanwhile, Harry, Ana, and Nova were huddled in the opposite corner of the room. “So much for the library or the choir room,” mumbled Harry. “Now we can’t go anywhere except to and from class. Thank Merlin for that muffliato spell.” He gave Ana a sympathetic look. “I hope this doesn’t mess your Quiz Bowl schedule up too much…”

Ana sighed. “It probably will, considering that Morgan was my teammate… they’re going to have to find a replacement, and who knows how long that’ll take.”

“And who knows how long it’ll take before they make an official statement about what happened,” chimed in Nova. “Even if they find the truth, they’ll probably cover it up and say that it was a suicide or some other nonsense. If word gets out that there’s a murderer on the loose, Ilvermorny may well close its doors…”

“Sounds no different than the non-magical world then,” grumbled Harry. “The government will pull out all the stops to prevent panic and chaos…”

“Who do you think did it?” Harry asked Ana and Nova. “If it wasn’t a student, and if it’s unlikely she committed suicide…”

“A faculty member,” Nova replied without hesitation. “I saw her body just before reveille. She had a look of shock on her face, but she didn’t look like she suffered… whoever did it must have been a master of one of the Unforgivable Curses, which aren’t even taught here!”

Harry tilted his head. “Unforgivable curses?” he asked with a healthy helping of both confusion and interest.

“There are three of them… the imperius curse, which can effectively enslave the mind of a victim; then there’s the killing curse, which is arguably the second worst. Of course, the goal is to kill the victim, but it’s a very quick death. And finally there’s the cruciatus curse, which usually doesn’t directly cause death for its victim, but it is a very slow and painful torture that can have lasting effects… those who have been exposed to such a curse for extended periods of time can lose their sanity… death would be a blessing for those unfortunate souls.”

“So someone likely cast the killing curse on that Doolittle girl,” surmised Harry. “But why?”

Nova shrugged. “Probably so… and I have no idea. Casting an Unforgivable on a child – even a spoiled rotten one like Doolittle – is a sick and twisted act. Death would be too light a punishment.”

“You said that they don’t teach Unforgivables here, so it’s likely not an Ilvermorny-trained wizard,” Ana said. She gulped. “You don’t think… it could have been Professor Lupin?”

The three looked at each other with expressions fraught with fear, and felt their stomachs collectively sink…

Chapter 34: Maverick

Chapter Text

Harry sank back in his seat. Dozens of thoughts swirled in his mind, he wasn’t able to fully process everything. There was just no way that Professor Lupin was capable of casting an unforgivable, especially unprovoked… he was so mild-mannered and likable, it just wasn’t in his character. “I… I have to talk to Professor Frye… now.”

“You can’t, Harry,” protested Nova. “The notice on the bulletin quite plainly stated that we’re restricted to our common room for the time being.”

“I don’t care,” Harry shot back in a firm but respectful tone. “I have to get this off my chest… I just want to make sure that everyone’s wands have been inspected – including staff members!”

“At least get Missy’s blessing before you go,” begged Ana. “Or another trustee. I don’t want to see you get in trouble over something that isn’t even your business anyway…”

“Oh, all right,” sighed Harry. He scanned the room to try to find Missy or some other trustee; he exhaled with a sigh of relief when he saw a halo-braided Missy standing near the fireplace, wearing her entire formal regalia, sans beret. She was speaking with her boyfriend, fellow fifth-year Horned Serpent Ulysses Chow, a slender boy of partial Polynesian descent.

Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to get Missy’s attention. “Erm, hi there, Missy. I’ve got a question for you… it’s kinda important.”

Missy turned around to address Harry. “Oh, hiya, Harry,” she said warmly. “What’s up?”

Harry’s face turned pink for a split second. “Well, I need to talk to Professor Frye. It’s about this morning… it’s about another professor, actually… I just want to make sure that he’s not responsible is all…”

Missy’s eyes shifted; she then lowered her voice to a faint whisper as she leaned toward Harry. “Which professor, Harry?”

Harry sighed. “Professor Lupin,” he whispered back. “I don’t think he did it, but he also isn’t an Ilvermorny graduate, meaning that he could potentially have learned spells at Hogwarts that they don’t necessarily teach here…”

Missy turned back to Ulysses. “Could you excuse us for just a sec, ‘Lys?”

“Take your time,” replied Ulysses. “We’ve literally got all day today…”

Missy smiled sweetly at her boyfriend. “Thank you. This won’t take long.” She then turned to Harry and gestured toward a pair of armchairs just a few paces away from the fireplace; Harry dutifully took a seat.

Missy daintily took her seat, and drew her ten and a half inch elderberry wand. “Muffliato,” she whispered. She then tucked her wand away just as quickly, and placed her hands in her lap. She looked impassively at Harry before speaking again. “Before I authorize you to leave the Horned Serpent tower, Potter, I’m going to need a very good reason for doing so. As it stands, discussing whether or not Professor Lupin is innocent or guilty of murdering Miss Doolittle isn’t going to suffice.”

Harry hung his head. “I don’t think he did it… I really, really hope it wasn’t him, at least… do you know if faculty members’ wands were checked?”

Missy nodded. “To my knowledge, yes, all student and faculty wands are liable to be tested.” Her face hardened just a touch. “Granted, that’s strictly an internal investigation; MACUSA will almost certainly launch an investigation of their own, and I guarantee faculty wands will be tested a second time; possibly students’ as well. While I trust Professor Fontaine’s methods, I’m inclined to think that MACUSA is a little more thorough, so there’s a chance they might find something that the school missed.” She let out a sad-sounding sigh. “And that wouldn’t be a good look, because if MACUSA finds something that the school doesn’t, it may look like Ilvermorny is hiding something. If that happens, teachers could lose their jobs… and we’d have to resume our magical education elsewhere.”

“Sooooo,” Harry replied after some thought, “have you heard of something called, erm, the unforgivable curses?”

Missy’s face turned sheet white. She just blinked at Harry a couple of times, before nodding slowly. “I have, Harry… why do you ask?”

Harry bit his lip. “Nova Woodward said she saw Doolittle’s body in the girl’s lavatory just before reveille this morning. She thinks that someone might have cast something called a killing curse on her… she didn’t see any signs of a fight or anything… whoever did it must have killed her quickly.”

There was a distinct look of fear on Missy’s countenance, one that Harry never saw on the usually-stoic trustee before. “I heard a scream at about five o’clock this morning. I got out of bed as quickly as I could to investigate, and I just saw her body, sprawled out in front of the row of sinks. Whoever did it clearly took her by surprise…” Missy began to sniffle as tears welled in her eyes. “Miss Doolittle was a member of an Old Money family, and belonged to her own little clique. A clique that nearly everyone else at Ilvermorny resented. But just because she wasn’t well-liked outside of her own social circle, doesn’t mean that she had any known enemies.”

Missy’s breaths became jagged and deliberate as she was helpless to control her tears. “She and I were often at odds… we have been ever since we were sorted together over four years ago. We’ve threatened each other, we’ve jinxed each other… but while I wouldn’t hesitate to put her in her place for stepping out of line, I’d never truly harm her. Whoever’s responsible is a truly sick and demented individual… there is no reason for anyone to want a child dead.”

“They don’t teach unforgivables here, do they?” asked Harry. “Nova said they don’t.”

Missy shook her head ‘no’. “Most magical schools don’t condone the use of dark magic… Hogwarts doesn’t include it in their curriculum, and neither does Beauxbatons as far as I’m aware.” She tilted her head. “There are exceptions to that though… Durmstrang is known for condoning dark magic… even actively teaching it… those who have been educated at Durmstrang are some pretty tough customers, let me tell you…”

“Since Professor Lupin went to Hogwarts, it’s not likely he would have learned the unforgivable curses,” Harry replied with relief evident in his voice.

Missy smiled sweetly. “Correct. If he has any knowledge of those spells, he would have learned them outside of the walls of the Hogwarts castle…” Her smile broadened. “Search your feelings, Harry. Do you think Professor Lupin really would have done something so awful? If anything, he’s probably grieving right now…”

“He was very good friends with my father, godfather, and uncle,” Harry said. “The only British wizards that would have cast spells like those would have in league with Lord Voldemort… the demon who killed both my parents.” Harry’s face darkened. “He did mention that there was a man… Peter something or other… that betrayed my parents… he did it to gain favor with Voldemort. He also framed my godfather for killing 12 innocent people back in Magical Britain, while he got off scot-free…”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” cooed Missy. “How old were you when you lost your parents?”

“I was just a toddler… not much more than a year old,” answered Harry. “Voldemort also tried to destroy me, but my mother cast some sort of protection charm on me that caused his curse to backfire. The attempt left this scar on my forehead… It evaporated his body, but apparently it didn’t fully destroy his spirit. I don’t know a ton of what happened, but it sounds like there’s a lot of powerful magic that surrounds him, and it would take more than just a killing curse to destroy him for good.”

Missy just sat and listened to Harry for a minute; a small thin smile came to her lips. “Harry, a personal question?”

Harry nodded at the trustee. “Sure.”

Missy gave Harry a bit of a nervous glance. “Erm, I’ve never heard of anyone surviving the killing curse before… your mother must have truly loved you for that charm to protect you the way it did… anyway, would you mind if I took a look at your scar for just a moment?”

Harry just smiled at Missy and shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” He brushed back a few strands of his dark, messy hair to reveal a scar that resembled a slightly-tilted Z.

Missy gasped in awe. “That scar… I’ve never seen anything like that before,” she whispered. She smiled sweetly. “Another personal question? It might sound a little strange, but I would like to touch it… if you don’t mind.”

Harry couldn’t fully stifle a chuckle. “Go for it.”

“Thank you,” replied Missy with a soft giggle. Slowly and deliberately, she reached out with her right hand, her index and middle fingers fully extended. Harry winced at first, but then sat still as he let her carefully-manicured baby pink fingernails gently trace the outline of his scar.

Harry’s flinching didn’t go unnoticed by Missy. “I hope I didn’t cause you any pain… I’m so sorry if I did,” she said.

“It felt a little weird at first,” admitted Harry, “but your touch didn’t cause any pain or discomfort. It felt a little cool, a little tingly even. It was a positive sensation.”

“Oh good,” replied Missy. “I was worried for a moment… has anyone ever touched your scar before? Not including immediate family?”

Harry just shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of… though I have felt a similar tingling sensation before. When you touched it, I just felt a lot of positive energy well up inside me. Some positive memories came back to me as well. It was wonderful.”

“And what about the last time your scar tingled?” asked Missy with an arched eyebrow. “I’m guessing it wasn’t as positive an experience.”

“It was when I got my wand about a month ago,” said Harry. “Elder Gomer didn’t touch my scar, but he just kinda grabbed my wrist and… sorta looked into my soul or something. I don’t know what he even did, but it was like reliving the night where I lost my parents and the events that happened immediately after that.”

He then slumped back in his seat and bowed his head. Missy tilted her head. “Harry, are you alright?

Harry barely looked up. “Yeah, I’m fine… I can’t explain it, but… I think we need to go downstairs to the Wand Selection Chamber…”

Missy gasped. “Are you crazy? The last time anyone was down there, a student got sent to the infirmary… she’s lucky she didn’t get sent home for good!”

“Maybe I am,” replied Harry, “but when you touched my scar, you’ve given me an idea… Elder Gomer knows more about wands than anyone here. Maybe he knows if it’s possible to bypass a trace…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” countered Missy. “First of all, Elder Gomer’s a very busy man as it is. Secondly, do you really think he’s going to share trade secrets, especially with a first-year student that’s just a little out of his depth?”

“Fine,” groaned Harry. “Was his wand checked? Is he even considered faculty here? He just makes wands for most of the year and hands them to new students the first of September.”

“How should I know?” countered Missy. She sighed. “Look, Harry… I know you’re ready for things to get back to normal – we all are – but right now, you’re about to lead us on a wild goose chase. Unless you have proof of someone committing the crime, then you just need to forget about this whole mess and just wait things out like the rest of us. You don’t have to like it, but you have to respect the restrictions. Remember, they’re just temporary…”

“And what if I find proof?” Harry shot back.

“Just stop, Harry,” begged Missy. “As I’ve said before, please… just let the faculty handle things. I’m not authorizing you to leave the tower until it’s time to eat – case closed. You really should use this time to study, or relax with your friends. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some time with my boyfriend, thanks.” She got up from her seat and returned to her old spot by the fireplace.

Harry shook his head in frustration as he got up to re-join Ana and Nova. “She’s not letting me leave the tower right now,” he told his friends.

“Well, she probably has good reason,” surmised Ana. “She doesn’t want you to get in trouble. It’s for your own good, Harry.”

Harry ran a hand through his dark shaggy hair. “She did say that faculty members are supposed to have their wands checked too.” A small smile came to his lips. “Also, I think it’s safe to assume that Professor Lupin has nothing to do with the incident.”

“Well, that’s good,” murmured Ana. “And I’m sure she also told you not to dig any deeper into this. This isn’t your mystery to solve…”

“No, it’s not,” admitted Harry in a hushed tone, “but when she touched my scar, I felt a tingling sensation similar to the one I felt when I got my wand last month… I don’t have any evidence to back this up, other than a gut feeling, but I really think there’s a clue downstairs in the Wand Selection Chamber…”

“Oh no you don’t,” Ana admonished. “Don’t even think about sneaking around the castle, looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack!” She grabbed Harry’s hand and gave it a small squeeze. “Harry, look at me. I know you’ve gotten into this habit of doing your own thing, even when others tell you not to… look, your maverick streak suits you at times, but this is not one of them. Promise me you’ll do as you’re told, and stay here until we’re given the all-clear.” Her already soft voice faded into a whisper so faint that even Harry could barely hear it. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Harry’s chest heaved up and down… he wanted very badly to make that promise to Ana, but in his heart of hearts, he knew he couldn’t keep it. “Ana,” he replied, “I can’t make that promise… I hope you understand.”

Before Ana could object, Nova threw Harry a devilish grin. “There’s no need for you to make that promise, mate. Name the time… I’m going with you.”

Ana rolled her eyes so hard, they might as well have fallen out of their sockets. “I’m going to regret this,” she sighed. “I might as well see this through too.”

“Tonight,” whispered Harry. “Tonight, after curfew. Say, ten fifteen? Meet me here in the common room… and bring only yourselves.”

“Works for me,” said Nova.

“Okay,” added Ana with reluctance in her voice. She narrowed her eyes at Harry. “If we get in trouble, Harry Potter, you’re going to have worse things to deal with besides detention. And that is a promise I will keep.”

Harry swallowed the large lump that formed in his throat.

Chapter 35: The Evening Excursion

Chapter Text

At precisely ten fifteen that evening, Harry, Ana and Nova met in the common room as planned. Ana couldn’t help but giggle softly at Harry’s pajamas. “Are those… orcas on your pajamas?”

Harry’s nostrils flared. “It’s the Vancouver Canucks, my local NHL team, thank-you-very-much,” he retorted indignantly. “Like you have room to make fun… you’re wearing a Garfield nightgown!”

Ana turned her nose up in the air. “Garfield is infinitely cooler than hockey,” she replied snidely. “And his creator, Jim Davis, is from my home state of Indiana! Gotta represent!”

“Shhhhhh,” Nova whisper-shouted. “Grow up, both of you! Are you asking to get caught by a trustee?” She scanned the common room to make sure the coast was clear. “So… if we’re going to make a break for it, there’s no time like the present.” She made her way to Old Margie, then waved her friends over to join her.

Nova stamped her foot twice on the platform to activate the lift. The familiar sound of a disembodied old lady’s voice greeted the children. “Do I detect some delinquent children trying to leave the tower without consent?”

Ana glared at Harry. “I knew this was going to be a terrible idea, you idiot,” she whispered. “Harry, I swear…”

Harry rolled his eyes at Ana, then looked at Nova. “Can she be bribed?”

Nova shrugged. “Only one way to find out, I s’pose…” She closed her eyes for a moment, before addressing Old Margie. “Hi, Old Margie,” she said as politely as she could. “Technically, yes, we’re not supposed to be out, but what we’re doing is very, very important, you know… is there anything we can do to buy your silence?”

The most unexpected thing happened… did Old Margie just laugh? “Tell you what, dear. I suppose I won’t tell anyone… for a price.”

Nova didn’t bat an eye. “Name it.”

“An old lady like me gets bored… even lonely at times. I’ve been standing guard for well over a century, you know, and I could use a little something to while away the lean moments. Do you happen to have a copy of Quidditch Quarterly for me to peruse? That Birmingham Banshee keeper, Woodrow Ferguson, is quite the hunk!” creaked Old Margie.

“You’re enamored with a professional quidditch player?” Ana gasped. “I didn’t even know you were even capable of reading, or admiring photos…”

Old Margie let out an airy laugh. “Heh. There’s a lot you kids don’t know about me. So, do you think you can find a copy, or what?”

“It may take a little while, but we should be able to get you that magazine,” Nova assured. “But you’re a bit out of the loop, I’m afraid… Ferguson hasn’t played in quite a long time. He retired before I was born, in fact!”

“Pity,” sighed Old Margie in disappointment. “I guess it has been a while then…”

“If you want a current player to drool over, you can’t go wrong with Desmond Okafor,” suggested Nova. “He’s a beater for the Hartford Howlers… one of the best in the game today. Not only that, but he’s famous internationally. He made the cover of Witch Weekly a couple of years ago… thousands of British and Irish witches have a massive crush on him!” She giggled. “Myself included. I still have my copy if you want that instead…”

“Oh, I’d be much obliged, love,” replied Old Margie in a cheerful tone. “Do be a dear and go fetch it for me. I’ll do what I can to scare anyone off that might get suspicious.”

“Please be quick,” Ana pleaded. “We don’t have all night.”

“I’ll be back in two shakes of a dragon’s tail,” giggled Nova. She skipped off toward her room as quietly as she could. Less than a minute later, Nova returned, Witch Weekly in hand.

“What took you so long?” Ana asked incredulously.

Smek! Nova gave Ana a sharp open-handed slap on the back of her head. “Shut up, Harrison,” she whispered. “So, Old Margie, where do you want me to put this?”

A sudden creaking sound came from behind the children. Harry even jumped, thinking that it was the sound of a door opening, but to their collective relief, a small hatch opened. It looked barely large enough for the magazine to fit, thought Nova.

“If you would be so kind to put it in that slot, I would be most appreciative,” purred Old Margie. Nova carefully slipped the magazine in the narrow opening. “Mmmm, thank you so much, love. You’ve got some good taste, you know…”

“Told you,” giggled Nova. “So, mum’s the word, right?”

“A deal is a deal,” replied Old Margie. “Oh, there is the matter of answering the riddle… I have a mouth but I have no head; I have no pillow but I have a bed. I have banks yet no money; I shimmer and shine when it’s sunny. What am I?”

“A river,” offered Ana. The unmistakable sound of grinding stone soon followed, and the three children began their descent down the shaft. When they disembarked, Ana tapped Harry on the shoulder. “I hope you know how to actually get inside the Wand Selection Chamber… I don’t think anyone aside from faculty knows how to get in.”

“I know how to get in. I watched Mister Floyd when he led us down to serve our detention a few weeks ago,” replied Harry confidently. “He was much easier to follow than Professor Frye, that’s for sure… now, I don’t exactly remember how to get there, but I do know that we have to take this grand marble staircase down to the basem*nt…”

“I know how to get there,” Nova whispered with assurance. “As long as you know how to open the chamber, we should be all set.” She led her friends through a few hallways and to the spiral marble staircase Harry described, and the trio carefully descended the steps to the basem*nt.

The basem*nt was pitch black. Nova whipped out her wand. “Lumos,” she murmured as she continued to tiptoe her way through the drafty passageway. A few minutes later, the children came to a dead end. Nova turned to Harry. “Do your thing, Harry,” she whispered.

“Okay, I think there’s a discolored brick somewhere,” Harry remembered audibly. “Nova, could you shine your wand on the wall so I can find it?” Nova pointed her illuminated wand toward the wall as Harry asked. “Aha,” Harry yelped a few seconds later as he made out a somewhat off-colored brick at eye level. He pressed his hand on the brick, and sure enough, the wall began to tremble.

Like clockwork, the same four-button panel appeared on the wall. Good thing I paid attention to Mister Floyd last time, he thought to himself as he pushed the buttons in the same sequence as before – blue, green, yellow and finally red. Just as he’d hoped, a large archway opened. Harry was grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing toward the archway.

Nova high-fived Harry as she passed by him; Ana just nodded curtly. Harry then followed his friends into the chamber, which was illuminated by several strategically-placed candelabras throughout the chamber. The trio made their way to the wooden desk near the center of the room. Just like last time, the desk was vacant, but in addition to a large record-keeping book – which undoubtedly kept record of all the wands handed out by Elder Gomer – there was a second, smaller book near the edge of the desk.

Harry and Ana made their way toward the desk, while Nova began exploring the chamber. Harry grabbed the small black book, but was unable to open it as it was sealed shut with a lock. He handed the book to Ana. “Do you think you can open it?” he asked.

Ana shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” She drew her mahogany wand and inhaled. “Here goes nothing… alohom*ora!” She swished her wand deftly in the air, and click! The lock opened, and Ana began flipping through the pages. The last few pages were blank, so she searched for the most recent page with writing on it. “Harry… it’s a journal,” she whispered. She waved him closer so he could read it with her:

“Wednesday, 9 October 1991

My greatest fears are being realized… I have been gradually succumbing to madness. There is no doubt in my mind that this is the doing of the infernal Orb of Exuberance… damn that vile demoness Gormlaith Gaunt and her deal with Lucifer. Even the hottest flames of the Burning Hells are not sufficient to inflict the eternal agony she deserves.

For years I have fought with every fiber of my being to drown out the voices calling me to claim the souls of mortals, but I am now fully broken beyond redemption. I have taken the life of a young girl in her dormitory area mere hours ago… the voices have quieted some, but I know they will return with a vengeance soon enough.

I know the Orb lies buried in the deepest bowels of the castle, but precisely, I know not where. Whoever finds this entry must find the Orb and destroy it once and for all. I cannot fathom how much further pain and destruction it will cause.

I must hasten the inevitable. I hope I can find the child whose life I so wrongly took, and beg for her forgiveness in the afterlife. Adieu.

G”

Before Ana and Harry could finish reading the journal entry, they heard a shrill, bloodcurdling scream from the other side of the room. Ana and Harry sprinted toward Nova, wands in hand, and saw the source of the shriek… Elder Gomer’s body was suspended from the ceiling, with a noose around his neck.

“That… that entry we read was a suicide note,” Harry murmured. “So he was responsible for Doolittle’s death… I never would have thought him capable of doing something like that.”

“Neither did I,” said Ana. “Let’s… let’s just get out of here.” She shuddered. “I don’t ever want to come back down here again, if I can help it.” She turned to Nova. “Are you okay, Nova?”

Nova looked at Ana, her face elongated with terror. “I don’t know, Ana… but I’m with you… we need to get out of here, and never come back. I thought this room was terrifying enough when I got my wand two years ago… I had no idea how much worse it could get!”

“Not before I get the journal,” said Harry. “I want to read some more of it… I’ll give it to a teacher tomorrow morning.”

“Are you freaking nuts?” Ana hissed. “That book might be cursed too – just leave it, Harry. We’ve seen far too much already. I have no interest in taking anything but myself and the two of you back upstairs!”

Judging by her uncharacteristically short temper this evening, Harry didn’t want to test Ana’s patience any further. “Okay,” he whispered.

Ana flashed her signature smile. “Thank you for listening to me this time, Harry. Let’s just get back upstairs before we get in any trouble.”

As the trio made their way out of the chamber, they heard the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the hallway. “sh*t,” Nova muttered under her breath.

Harry looked at his friends. “I’ll take the fall if anything comes of this… I don’t want anything happening to either of you.”

“We joined you on our own accord,” Nova said. “We’re in this together, no matter what.”

The children just stood perfectly still in the middle of the hallway and waited for their fate. The three of them exhaled in relief when they saw the familiar face of Professor Lupin. When he saw the three children standing before him, he practically jumped back in shock.

“I heard a loud scream from down here just a few minutes ago. So, what in Merlin’s name are you three doing out of bed?” he asked in a slightly-perturbed tone. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be wandering the halls of the castle at eleven o’clock at night?”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Harry began, “but we have to show you something. I promise it’s very, very important. Could you follow us please?”

Lupin nodded. “Very well,” he sighed. “You’re fortunate that it’s me that’s making rounds this evening, and not Madam L. She’d probably dole out twenty demerits apiece! Now, what is it that’s so urgent?”

“Elder Gomer, sir,” replied Ana. “He’s dead… he hanged himself not long after killing Morgan Doolittle. He even admitted as such in his journal.”

Lupin’s face went sheet-white. “Elder Gomer was responsible for Miss Doolittle’s death? I find that hard to believe…” He followed the children back into the Wand Selection Chamber, and Harry handed him the journal.

“Look for the last entry,” Harry advised. “It proves his guilt… and you might want to read the entries before that too… it sounds like that Orb you told us about slowly drove him to insanity.”

Lupin stroked his short, grizzled beard as he read the entry. “We’ll have to locate his wand and have it tested for definitive proof,” he murmured. “And what gave you the idea of sneaking off downstairs, unsupervised, in the middle of the night?”

“It was the only thing I could think of because I know Missy wouldn’t have allowed it… I felt like I had to take matters into my own hands,” admitted Harry. “I’m sorry for breaking rules, but there was just something that told me to come down here. I don’t know what it was, but it was stronger than just a gut feeling.”

Nova pointed at Gomer’s suspended corpse on the other side of the chamber. “I found his body a few minutes ago, and kinda freaked out…”

“So that was the source of the scream I heard,” Lupin replied, barely resisting the urge to chuckle. “Girl, you’ve got some lungs…” Nova couldn’t help but blush.

Lupin shut the journal, and beckoned the children to follow him out of the chamber. “Come on, you three. Let’s get back upstairs and climb back in bed, all right? I’ll give this book to Professor Fontaine first thing in the morning, but in the meantime… five points to the Horned Serpents for your findings. Each.”

“Thank you, Professor,” the children said.

Lupin again suppressed the urge to chuckle. “Good work, the lot of you. Just… try not to make a habit of sneaking off in the middle of the night, alright? And if you’re that dead-set on an evening excursion in the future… just owl me in advance next time. I might not be opposed to joining you… but just be aware that some nights are better than others, if you catch my drift.”

“Cool!” yelped Harry.

“You’ve got a lot of your father in you, Harry,” Lupin said. “I had some right adventures with him back in the day.” He winked. “And don’t worry, I’ll make your excuses should any other faculty get suspicious. Now, if the three of you will follow me, we’ve got a bit of a jaunt to get back to your tower.”

“What about Elder Gomer’s body?” asked Ana. “Surely you can’t just leave it there all night…”

“Once I’ve ensured the three of you are back upstairs where you belong, I’ll inform Mister Floyd immediately thereafter,” promised Lupin. “Before I forget… since you three have been through quite a bit this evening, why don’t we make a quick pit stop by my office first so you can all down a vial of Sleeping Draught? Seeing a dead body is quite jarring, to say the least, and may keep you up all night.”

“Sounds good, sir,” replied Nova. “I think I’m speaking for all of us – we certainly could use a good night’s sleep.”

Lupin turned around to punch in the appropriate sequence on the four-buttoned panel, and the archway sealed itself just seconds later. Without another word, he led the children out of the eerie basem*nt and back to the more familiar first level of the castle. When they got to his office, he ushered them in and handed them each a small vials of the Sleeping Draught, and told them to take them once they made it back upstairs as the effects were close to instantaneous.

After escorting them upstairs, the children bade each other good evening, and downed their potions as instructed. Within minutes, all three children were sleeping peacefully in their beds.

Chapter 36: Nightmare

Chapter Text

Classes resumed as normal the following day, much to Harry’s relief. Although he found the prospect of being escorted by trustees to and from mandatory exercises, classes, and meals rather inconvenient, it was at least a step closer to normalcy. More than anything, he was looking forward to his regular Thursday meet-up with Professor Lupin.

When Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah knocked on his office door during their free period, Lupin only asked for Harry to come inside. He winked at Othniel and Tallulah. “I have something personal I need to discuss with Harry first; I’ll come and fetch you two in a tic.” Harry quietly closed the door behind him as he took his seat across from Lupin’s desk. Lupin’s gaze remained impassive, but Harry could sense that he likely had some new information regarding Morgan Doolittle’s murder.

Harry stared at his Defense teacher, wide-eyed. “So… did they find Elder Gomer’s wand and have it tested?”

Lupin made a slow, silent nod. “Mister Floyd recovered the wand this morning and delivered it to the Headmaster for testing. We are still awaiting the results, but I would wager that at least one recent curse would be traced to it.” He co*cked his head. “I hope you’ve been keeping your discoveries to yourself… the true details of the crime aren’t anything the public should be made aware of.”

Harry shook his head. “Just you, me, Ana and Nova are the only ones who know anything… at least to my knowledge”

Lupin’s lips twitched as he made a small smile. “Good. It needs to stay that way. I needn’t elaborate on the implications should this information reach the wrong ears.”

“What else did you find out in his journal?” Harry asked. “If he’s been down there making wands for nearly a century, why did he just snap like that all of a sudden?”

“I’m not rightly sure,” admitted Lupin. “I haven’t read any more of his journal than you have… I just safeguarded it throughout the evening and turned it over to Professor Fontaine before breakfast this morning. He’s a bit more qualified than myself to make heads or tails of those journal entries – I’m just as curious as you are as to what insight the Headmaster might provide after he’s had a chance to review it in its entirety.”

“And would you tell me what he finds out?” Harry pleaded.

Lupin nodded. “I’ll tell you what I can.”

Harry looked up to meet his teacher’s gaze. “And… are things going to, y’know, get back to normal soon?”

“I would imagine so,” replied Lupin. “You might still get marched around by your trustees for a few more days, but it shouldn’t be much longer than that. I’d imagine that Professor Fontaine just wants to be completely sure that there is no further threat to the student body’s well-being.” He pointed a hand toward the door. “Oh, you can invite Othniel and Tallulah in now, if you’d like.” He chuckled softly. “If it’s okay with you, I’d rather talk about much more pleasant topics.”

***

The next morning at breakfast, Ana was catching up with some her fellow second-year housemates when she felt a friendly tap on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Missy Ludwig, with a particularly sunny expression on her face. “Hiya, Ana,” she squeaked. She leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I spoke with Professors Frye and Goode yesterday. They asked me if I was comfortable filling the vacancy left by Doolittle… I said I’d do it. They aren’t planning on postponing next week’s competition, even though they’d be justified in doing so… anyway, I just wanted to share that with you. I’m excited to have you as a teammate.”

“Awesome!” exclaimed Ana. But before the two could continue their conversation, hundreds of owls flooded the mess hall, carrying letters and parcels. To Ana’s shock, Hedwig landed right in front of Ana’s breakfast tray, carrying a letter from Hogwarts.

Missy flashed another smile. “I don’t want to keep you from reading your mail. I’ll see you in a bit, okeydoke?”

“Sounds good, Missy,” replied Ana as she opened the sealed envelope. She then smiled at Hedwig. “I’m surprised to see you this morning, pretty girl! Thanks for delivering my mail!” She tore off a small piece of bacon and offered it to the owl.

“11 October 1991

Dear Anastasia,

I wish I could come to Ilvermorny and watch you rock the Quiz Bowl in person. I can understand your nervous feelings, but bear in mind that the first time is always the hardest. You’re going to perform exceptionally well – I know it in my heart of hearts.

Your Scaggs is a very handsome kitty! He sure looks like he can keep people warm during those cold winter nights. I’ve attached a photo of Erebus to this letter… to my knowledge, he hasn’t ‘sniffed out’ any suspicious-looking characters yet, but then again just about everyone he’s met has been pretty good company so far. Then again, the shopkeeper only guessed that he may have some Kneazle in him so it’s not a guarantee. Personally, it’s not a big deal to me one way or the other – I love my pretty furbaby just like you love yours!

I’ll write to my parents about the possibility of coming to the States this coming summer. I can’t promise they’ll agree to it, but I’ll keep you posted regardless. I may be a pureblood heiress, but I’ve been longing for the chance to be an ordinary girl, even if it’s just for a little while. Until I came to Hogwarts, everyone I knew also came from rich, powerful families.

Two of my roommates are half-bloods, which means they have partial magical ancestry. Most half-bloods are considered ‘acceptable’ for purebloods to associate with, but only the very richest and most powerful of half-bloods (and those are very few, mind you) would have any chance of marrying a purebred witch or wizard (and even then, it would not be to a firstborn as many strict observers would consider this blasphemous). I don’t agree with these views, mind you, but it’s just the way things are.

My other roommate comes from a non-magical family. She’s very bright and sweet-natured, but she struggles to fit in socially because some of our classmates tease her for her looks (she has ‘bedhead’ every day, and is forced to wear some unflattering hardware on her teeth… braces, if memory serves). She also gets teased by some other students because she’s Muggle-born. I really hate that for her because she truly has a lovely soul... I feel so bad for her because she comes up to our room crying after class more often than not. I do what I can to comfort her, but I sometimes feel so helpless because for a lot of the things she deals with, I don’t really have a frame of reference. If you ever come to Hogwarts, maybe you can give her a pep-talk because you’re proof that a no-maj born witch is worth every bit as much as a half-blood or purebred one!

I can’t to get your next letter. I’m really glad I signed up for the pen pal program – it was everything I had hoped for and more!

With love from Hogwarts,

Daphne”

“Who’s that, ‘Stasia?” asked Jillian Marlowe, one of Ana’s roommates. She raised a dark eyebrow. “And why did they send you a picture of a black mop?”

“That,” snapped Ana, “is Erebus. He’s a Persian cat that belongs to Daphne, my pen pal from Hogwarts.”

“Why couldn’t she have chosen a cute kitty?” scoffed Jillian. She swept a lock of dark chocolate hair back behind her ear. “He’s more fur than cat!”

“He’s handsome just the way he is,” mused Sabrina Flores, another one of Ana’s roommates. She turned to Ana and smiled. “Tell your friend I said ‘hello’ when you write back.”

“I will,” replied Ana.

***

Back in the boys’ dormitories in the Horned Serpent tower that evening, Harry wished he had another vial of Sleeping Draught that Professor Lupin had given him the other night. He tossed and turned in his four-poster for several hours as he tried in vain to fall asleep. It was well past one in the morning when he finally settled in.

A couple of hours later, he began to feel strange… weightless. His peripheral vision clouded with a green, misty haze, and as he spun around to make sense of where he was, he realized that he wasn’t in his bedroom. He wasn’t sure where he was, but based on the cold, damp air and musty, earthy smell he must have been somewhere beneath the castle. It wasn’t an area that he and Samantha explored, but he assumed that he must have been in the same general area – perhaps a different part of the labyrinth.

He saw a single opening behind him… the room beyond the doorway was quite well-lit, and had the familiar coloration of reddish-tan sandstone. The grotto, Harry thought to himself. He rushed toward the doorway, but the heavy door slammed itself shut mere milliseconds before he could get out. He pulled on the doorknob, to no avail. “Let me out!” he screamed in sheer terror. “Let me out!”

Harry came to the realization that he was quite alone, and the only way out was going through the other side. With trepidation, he carefully tiptoed through the dimly-lit corridor. He winced at the primitive artwork on the walls – they were nothing short of graphic – even grotesque – depictions of humans being sacrificed to a hideous, and presumably powerful, horned being that looked to be fifty percent taller than an average person.

These etchings were far from elaborate – little more than glorified stick figures – but they were enough to tell an effective story. From what Harry gathered, it looked like a small band of magical humans struck a deal with a powerful overlord from another world. The leader of the humans offered the horned being several mortals in exchange for a large wand… even these primitive markings clearly conveyed that this wand was extraordinary, as it gleamed with substantially more power than any wand that the coven of witches and wizards were carrying.

Harry felt his heart pounding as he progressed deeper and deeper through the passageway. “Take me, Harry Potter,” a strange, soft voice called out. “Use me. I can help you exact revenge on Peter Pettigrew. With me, you can kill Lord Voldemort with but a mere gesture. The wizarding world is yours to rule, Harry Potter. All of it…”

Harry tried to ignore the whisperings, but the voice grew louder and more persistent as he traversed through the eerie tunnel. “You know you want to, Harry… Avenge your parents! Voldemort is a foolish freak with delusions of grandeur. He is only a rabid dog that needs to be put out of his misery. And Pettigrew is but the tiniest flea. Neither of them can truly grasp the concept of true power. You, on the other hand, with time and training…”

He continued his march down the abyssal tunnel, but instead of getting colder, it became warmer and warmer. The walls became better-lit as the sparse candelabras were replaced by roaring torches with dancing blue flames that burned far, far hotter than ordinary fire. The heat became almost too oppressive for Harry to bear, until he reached a dead end.

A single footlocker rested against the end of the tunnel, which Harry unlocked with a simple “alohom*ora”. Inside, he saw a highly-polished black wand, perhaps twenty inches in length, with silver and gold accents. This wand was considerably more luxurious-looking than any wand Harry had ever seen… but it wasn’t even the handle of the wand that grabbed Harry’s attention.

On the end was a sky-blue ball, perhaps just a little larger than Harry’s fist, clenched inside three bird’s talons. The Orb of Exuberance, Harry thought. He looked at the actual orb itself – little silvery-grey puffs of clouds swirled about. Without a second thought, he grabbed the elongated wand from the foot locker and held it with both hands.

The Orb began to glow a faint gold, and the color of the orb gradually turned from a pleasant blue to a blood red. An eerie hiss came from behind his back… he whirled around, and saw a gaunt man in black robes with a strangely serpentine face.

“Hello, Harry,” the man greeted in a raspy hiss. “You want to destroy me… I know you do… use the Orb,” he beckoned. “Your anger is strong. I can sense it…”

“You killed my parents, you fiend,” Harry roared back with defiance. “You’ll get exactly what you deserve!”

The snake-faced man smirked at Harry. “Yes… that’s right, Harry… go on. Remember… it’s your anger and hatred that make you truly powerful, not that worthless little stick you’re holding.”

Harry glared at the man he presumed to be the demon who murdered his parents. He swished the wand in a sharp upstroke, rather like how a samurai would slash his katana, and screamed only one word… “Die!”

The black-cloaked figure cackled as he disintegrated into ash… Harry had gotten the feeling that he was being mocked the whole time. Before he knew it, the Orb had also disintegrated, and he suddenly felt the weight of chains on his arms, legs, and chest.

Although the ominous figure disappeared, the voice continued to haunt him. “I see you have enjoyed your first taste of the darkness, Harry Potter… now, you will forever be a slave to it!”

“Noooooo!” Harry yelped in defiance. “I am Harry Potter – I will not be denied!”

A shrill scream pierced the Horned Serpent boys’ dormitories. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgh!”

Othniel rushed over to Harry’s bed, where he found his friend drenched in a cold sweat. “Harry… Harry. Are you all right?”

Harry sat up and blinked at his best friend. “Othniel… I had a horrendous dream…”

“What was it all about?” Othniel asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” murmured Harry. “I’m just glad it was just a dream, but it seemed so… real.”

Chapter 37: The Competition

Chapter Text

Over the next several days, there were mixed feelings of relief and anxiety in the castle. While the routine was beginning to return to normal – by Wednesday, students were allowed to resume their extracurricular activities, and by Friday, they were allowed to amble the castle halls unescorted – but for some of the students, the first Quiz Bowl competition weighed heavily on their minds.

Harry, Othniel and Tallulah noticed that Ana was not present for their usual morning exercises. They also saw that someone other than Missy barking instructions. This time, there was a lanky, short-haired Black girl with large square-framed glasses named Priscilla Travers, a sixth-year trustee.

"Listen up, Horned Serpents... Missy Ludwig will not be present this morning," Priscilla explained. "Due to recent unfortunate events, she has been asked to fill the Quiz Bowl vacancy and is currently preparing for tonight's competition with her teammates. I will be conducting today's exercises in her stead. Missy is tough, but you'll find that I'm even tougher… if I or any other trustee catches anyone not pulling their weight, we won't bother with demerits… if you're shirking, you can expect an automatic referral to your respective house head."

"After we finish our stretches, the Horned Serpents will form up in the usual section of the proving grounds. We will be doing push-ups, crunches, jumping jacks, squats, and mountain-climbers today. Trustees from all four houses will be patrolling the field to make sure all students are participating and using solid form. Do not give them attitude if they offer corrective advice… as some of you have already discovered, you may get a token of our appreciation for persistence. They can discipline or reward indiscriminately, as their capabilities are not restricted to just their own houses. As Missy stated at the beginning of the term, we pride ourselves on having peak physical fitness – we are truly the envy of the wizarding world. We want you to take the same pride that we have… it's a pride that is truly earned, and not given. Remember our motto…" She raised her voice to a shout. "SOUND BODY!"

“SOUND MIND!” finished the large gathering of students.

Forty-five minutes later, hundreds of utterly exhausted students trudged off the proving grounds and back to their respective dormitories to get cleaned up and changed. “Yeegads,” huffed Tallulah. “That was rough… the exercising was tough enough by itself, but having that Pukwudgie trustee Tommy Maudsley breathe down my neck like that was dad-gum unbearable…”

“It was definitely a bit easier under Missy,” admitted Harry. “It’s almost enjoyable under her watch…”

“I’m just glad it’s over,” grumbled Othniel. “I’m just glad that next time it won’t be Priscilla and her drill instructors running the show… trust me, I know… my uncle served in the Marines and he’s the toughest son of a gun I know!”

About a half hour later, when the children had cleaned up and changed for the day, they were somewhat surprised to see Ana dolled up in her formal robes as she approached them at the Horned Serpent table in the mess hall. Instead of her hair hanging in loose curls, her lovely medium-brown hair was done up in a meticulous French braid. The light makeup she wore made her pretty hazel eyes pop.

Harry was practically rendered speechless. “Wow, Anastasia,” he breathed. “You look, erm, gorgeous today…”

Ana blushed at the compliment. “I can’t take all the credit, Harry. Missy lent a hand, you know.”

“Missy is a pretty girl herself, so I can see why you’d seek her out for cosmetic and fashion advice,” said Tallulah.

“More accurately, she came to me and not the other way around. She knows plenty of beautification charms, but she’s a naturally beautiful girl and doesn’t necessarily need them,” corrected Ana with a small sigh. “I wish I was as pretty as her…”

“You’re prettier,” Harry blurted. Othniel rolled his eyes, while Ana and Tallulah giggled.

“I think Harry’s crushin’ on you, Ana,” Tallulah whispered in Ana’s ear, whose cheeks turned a rosy pink. “I know how he looks at you…”

“I don’t know about that,” Ana whispered back. “Merlin, I’m twelve and he’s just eleven… we’re not even teens yet…”

Tallulah snickered softly. “True, but he obviously thinks you’re cute.” Ana’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink.

Othniel pointed a fork toward Ana. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked, his cheeks stuffed with bits of onion, pepper, egg, and sausage. “It’s your first competition… maybe there’s a potion you can take that combats anxiety?

“Ugh, that’s disgusting, Othniel,” Ana groaned with frustration. “I thought it was common sense not to talk with your mouth full.” She shook her head, and offered Othniel a thin smile. “That said, there is the Draught of Peace, but outside of the infirmary, I don’t know of any other places in the castle that would have already-prepared vials of it. It’s kind of tough to brew… we won’t learn it until fifth year, I believe.”

“You got this, Ana,” Harry assured his friend. “You’re the brightest witch I know… Othniel, Tallulah and I believe in you… the real question is, do you believe in yourself?” He looked into her pretty greenish eyes. “Like I said before… you could miss every single question, and it’s not going to change the way I think of you. Not one iota. You’ve proven to many people how amazing you are… countless times over. But, at the end of the day, it’s just a dumb competition. Even if the Horned Serpents win, the reward is what, a handful of house points?”

He then sighed. “If you’re stressed out, find a happy place. A fond memory, a friendly face… anything.” Tallulah looked at Harry, and nodded with firm conviction. She then turned back to Ana, and removed her jade necklace. “Here, take this,” she offered. “My great-grandmother gave this to me when I was really little. It helps me find peace when I’m overwhelmed. Maybe it’ll help you tonight… just rub the stone a bit, and read the inscription on the back of it.”

Ana smiled at Tallulah. “I can’t accept this, ‘Lu. I know how special it is to you… it was her gift to you; I feel wrong taking this…”

Tallulah giggled. “I’m just letting you borrow it for the competition, you goober.” She then adopted a more serious expression, one she rarely used. “Please accept it, Ana… my Great Meemaw would want you to use it for tonight.”

“All right,” Ana creaked reluctantly. She clasped the pendant around her neck and smiled at her friend. “Thank you… it’s lovely.”

***

At seven o’clock that evening, the entire school assembled in the mess hall for the first Quiz Bowl competition of the term. The four long dinner tables had disappeared shortly after dinner, and a set of wooden bleachers formed around the perimeter of the dining area in a general horseshoe shape. All four houses sat in separate sections; the Horned Serpents sat in the area closest to their usual dinner table.

In the center of the mess hall stood a slightly raised platform with a simple brown podium, with four square alabaster tables surrounding it. Each table had seats for five students, and on the sidelines were twelve more students, which Harry guessed were the alternates.

A few minutes later, Mister Floyd strode to the podium in the center of the mess hall. “Good evening, Ilvermorny,” he boomed. “Are you ready for the first Quiz Bowl competition of the 1991-92 academic term?” After a smattering of cheers and applause, he shook his head. “Come on, you can do better than that. I said, are you ready for the Quiz Bowl?” The cheers and applause were considerably more raucous this time. Floyd nodded in approval. “All right, all right. That’s more like it. Now let’s give it up for Senior Professor Goode, the moderator of tonight’s event…”

After another round of cheers and applause, Professor Goode approached the podium. She was dressed rather differently than the Start-of-Term Feast; this time she was in billowing purple and black finery, complete with a pointed hat and black Doc Marten-style boots that went almost halfway up her calves.

“Good evening students,” she began. “As our caretaker Mister Floyd already mentioned, this is the first Quiz Bowl competition of the term.” She clasped her hands together. “For those of you who are not familiar with how the Quiz Bowl works, it is an event that covers academic trivia, consisting of three rounds – the ‘toss-up’ round where any player from any team may buzz in to try and answer a question, the ‘lightning round’, where all four houses will take turns in answering as many questions as possible in two minutes’ time, and then there’s the ‘bonus round’, which each team may wager as few or as many points as they’d like on a single question.”

She then turned toward each table, asking if each team was ready. After each table replied in the affirmative, she addressed the audience again. “Without further ado, let the games begin!”

“There’s Ana,” Harry whispered to Othniel and Tallulah, looking at the small girl in the middle of the Horned Serpent table. She looked so tiny compared to her teammates – she was nearly six inches shorter than Missy, who was fairly modestly-sized herself. You’ve got this Ana, he wanted to tell her. You’re going to rock it tonight!

Professor Goode began to rattle off various questions in all sorts of fields of academia, from Potions to Transfiguration, and everything in between. “Name three ingredients used to brew a Polyjuice Potion.” Ana rang her buzzer, but ran out of time before she could reply. Harry, Othniel and Tallulah all groaned in disappointment, but nobody felt worse than Ana.

“I’m sorry, Horned Serpents, but your time is up,” Goode said in an apologetic tone. Ana whispered a particularly nasty four-letter word to herself in frustration, but Missy tapped her on the shoulder and just smiled. “It’s okay, Anastasia,” she squeaked. “Just relax… you’re going to make up for this. I know it.”

At the end of the toss-up round, and the cumulative standings were as follows: Wampus with eighty points, the Horned Serpents with fifty points, the Thunderbirds with forty points, and the Pukwudgies with thirty points.

Next came the lightning round. As Wampus was in the lead, they went first. They had answered thirteen questions in their two-minute allotment, giving them an additional sixty-five points. “Oof, Wampus is really, really good,” noted Tallulah, as Harry and Othniel nodded in agreement.

Then came the Horned Serpents. Ana took a deep breath, and rubbed the jade charm on the pendant that Tallulah let her wear for the competition. She flipped it around and read the brief inscription to herself:

“You are brave, compassionate, and strong.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is wrong.

If you ever find yourself in doubt,

Once I’m between your fingers I’ll help you out.”

She rubbed the jade stone between her right thumb and index finger, and something most unexpected happened. A distinct, haunting contralto sang the poem while the sound of a pan flute provided a sweet, airy harmonization. She nudged Missy and gave her a quick glance. “Did… didja hear that?” she whispered to her teammate.

Missy shrugged. “Hear what?” she whispered back, with a slightly befuddled expression on her face.

Ana looked at the amulet again, and then back at Missy. “Never mind,” she murmured. Moments later, she felt a warm, somewhat tingling sensation work its way down, starting with her scalp, down to her shoulders, her chest, her arms and legs, and all the way down to her feet. It was a very positive sensation, one that gave her an overwhelming sense of peace and relaxation.

Missy tilted her head. “Are you okay, Ana?” she asked.

Ana just smiled. “Never better.”

Professor Goode began rattling off various questions. When she asked “Rappaport’s Law was originally enacted in 1790 – what was the purpose of this act?”

This time, Ana buzzed in with supreme confidence. “It was in response to Dorcas Twelvetrees’ disregard of the International Statute of Secrecy. Rappaport’s Law effectively separated the magical and non-magical realms of North America to the degree that witches and wizards were fully exempt from non-magical laws.”

“Correct,” replied Goode, “and five points will be added to the Horned Serpent’s score.”

When the lighting round was over, Ana had racked up twenty five points by herself, and found themselves tied with Wampus with a hundred and forty five points each. The Thunderbirds were close behind with a hundred and thirty, and Pukwudgie brought up the rear with a hundred and fifteen. “It looks like we’re in for an exciting finish,” Goode told the audience. “Every single house is very much in it… it depends on how much they’re willing to risk, and to see if they can answer the final question correctly… now, let us all pause for a brief five-minute intermission, and we’ll return to the exciting conclusion of this competition!”

Once the intermission had ended, everyone took their places so Professor Goode could present the final question: “Before we proceed, how many points would each team like to wager? We’ll start with the Pukwudgies.”

All eight Pukwudgie team members huddled for a few seconds, before making their decision. Lydia Smallson, a blonde, halo-braided fifth year, spoke on behalf of her house. “We’ll risk one hundred points, Professor.”’

“Very good,” murmured Goode. “A correct answer would put your house in the lead with two hundred and fifteen points. And a wrong answer would reduce your total to fifteen.” She then gestured to the Thunderbirds. “Thunderbirds, how many points are you willing to risk?”

The entire Thunderbird team huddled together for a few seconds, and reached a consensus. Curtis Martin, a seventh-year boy with dark hair and a peanut-buttery complexion, spoke for his team. “We’ll go with fifty points.”

“Fifty points it is,” confirmed Goode. “If you get the final question correct, it would put you in the lead with a hundred eighty. An incorrect answer would set you back to eighty.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “Wampus, you are currently tied for the lead with a hundred forty five points. What say you?”

The Wampus house took a fair bit more time deciding than either the Pukwudgies or Thunderbirds – it was nearly a full two minutes before they could come to an accord. Megan Allmon, a baby-faced fourth year girl who wore her dark red hair in a simple ponytail, and wore large, round glasses not unlike the ones Harry Potter had, spoke up. “Professor Goode, we’ve decided not to risk any points this time.”

“Not an unwise decision,” hummed the professor. “Either way, Wampus would remain at one hundred forty five. Best of luck to your team.” She then gestured toward the Horned Serpents. “And how about the Horned Serpents?”

Ana, Missy, and the rest of their team gathered round to weigh their options. “We ought to risk something,” Ana said. “Wampus stood pat, so even if they get their answer right, they won’t get any more points. How about eighty? It’ll be enough to win it all should the Thunderbirds and Pukwudgies get theirs right…”

“That’s an awful lot,” countered Ryan Dalrymple, a seventh-year. “What if we get ours wrong?”

“We won’t,” retorted Ana. “I guarantee it.”

“I like your confidence,” chimed in Missy. “Is everyone else good with eighty?”

“I s’pose,” sighed Ryan. “I just hope this doesn’t backfire…”

After breaking the huddle, Missy then spoke up on behalf of the Horned Serpents. “Professor, we’ve decided to wager eighty points.”

“Excellent,” replied Goode. “That would give you a grand total of two hundred twenty five points should you get it correct, and the Horned Serpents would come away with the victory. If you get it wrong, it would set you back to sixty five. All right, all teams’ wagers have now been locked in… let’s proceed with the final question!”

She reached inside her front robe pocket, and produced a small white envelope with no ostensible writing on it. She carefully opened it, which revealed a parchment with just a single question: “The common name of the plant, native to the Mediterranean, that allows its consumer to breathe underwater for a finite amount of time.”

Goode then waved her wand, and an hourglass about the size of a coffee maker appeared on the podium. “Teams – you have precisely sixty seconds to huddle up and discuss, and then one representative from each team will hand me your final answer in writing. Is that understood?”

She nodded in satisfaction upon hearing a chorus of “Yes, Professor” from all four tables. The sands began slowly trickling to the bottom of the hourglass while the four teams huddled up to come up with an answer.

“Muffliato,” Missy whispered as she beckoned for her teammates to join her. She sighed. “I’m not going to lie, I haven’t heard of such a plant… then again, I haven’t really had much time to prepare as I filled in the open spot kind of on a last-minute basis…”

“It’s gillyweed,” Ana offered. “I remember reading about it in a book called Exotic Excursions with Travis Duffelburger a few weeks ago. He took it while diving from the cliffs of Acapulco… he said it even gave his fingers and toes a webbed effect!”

Ryan Dalrymple arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure, Ana? I haven’t heard of this gillyweed, and my aunt is a botanist by trade. She hasn’t so much as uttered it once…”

“I’m positive,” grumbled Ana. “Look, I know some of you aren’t giving me the benefit of the doubt because I’m not an upperclassman… but just trust me this time. Please. This is my chance to prove that I belong on the team…”

“I believe you, Ana,” squeaked Missy. “You were put on this team for a reason… you don’t need to convince me.”

“All right,” Ryan replied with a note of reluctance. “I hope you’re right, half-pint.” He offered her a small smirk. “All things considered, you’ve done pretty good today. We wouldn’t be tied for the lead right now if it weren’t for you.” He gestured toward Missy. “All right, Missy. Write down gillyweed and give it to Goode.”

“One step ahead of you,” giggled Missy. It wasn’t a moment too soon, as their thoughts were soon interrupted by a familiar high-pitched drawl:

“Time’s up,” declared Goode. “Representatives, if you’ll be so kind as to hand me your final answers…” All four team representatives proceeded to give Goode their written answers. A few seconds later, she shared the final results with the school.

“All right, the Pukwudgies have answered with... knotgrass. Oh, I’m sorry, but that’s incorrect. Your running total is now fifteen.” The Pukwudgie student section reacted with a chorus of disappointed groans.

“Next, the Thunderbirds have answered with… gillyweed. Well done, Thunderbirds. You’re now in the lead with a hundred eighty.” The Thunderbird students stood to their feet and whooped and hollered so loudly that the other houses’ students gave them sharp looks of annoyance.

“Third, the Wampus house has answered with… gillyweed. That is correct, but as you have not wagered any points, your total will not move either way. As it stands, you are in second place with a hundred and forty five.” The Wampus house just looked on impassively – while they were pleased that their housemates got the answer correct, they also were a little frustrated with their conservative wagering.

“Finally, the Horned Serpents have answered with… gillyweed. Very good, Horned Serpents. As you have wagered eighty points, that gives you a new total of two hundred twenty five. If my calculations are correct, you have won the first Quiz Bowl competition… congratulations!”

Many of the Horned Serpent students burst out singing their house’s fight song:

On, Horned Serpents! On, Horned Serpents!

Grand old Teal and Gold!

We, thy loyal sons and daughters

Hail thee, young and old! Rah, rah, rah!

On, Horned Serpents! On, Horned Serpents!

A vict’ry’s sure today

Stand, Serpents, let us now salute her name!

Along with their housemates, Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah rose to their feet and applauded their team for a job well-done. Missy even wrapped Ana up in a congratulatory hug. “I’m so, so proud of you, Anastasia,” she whispered in the younger girl’s ear. “You were born for this game. The Horned Serpents will be in good hands for the next six years!”

Even seventh-year Ryan clapped Ana on the shoulder. “Well done, pipsqueak,” he said with a friendly wink. “I’ve had my reservations before, but you’ve proven your worth tonight. We’d have gotten that wrong if it weren’t for you.” Anastasia couldn’t help but beam from ear to ear.

Chapter 38: The Haunting

Chapter Text

The Horned Serpent common room was in high spirits all evening long. Harry, Othniel and Tallulah were bursting with pride and couldn’t wait to congratulate Ana on a well-earned victory in the Quiz Bowl.

“You were awesome tonight, Ana,” exclaimed Harry when she arrived in the common room with her teammates. “How’re you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” Ana declared. She grinned at her friend. “And thank you. I’m just glad it’s over!”

“You totally killed it out there,” Othniel added. “I’m sure you’re shot, but if you’ve got anything left in the tank, would you care to join us for a round of Egyptian Rat Screw?”

“You got off to a bit of a rough start, but it didn’t take you too long to settle in,” chimed in Tallulah. “You’ve got some ice in those veins, girl.”

Ana removed the pendant that Tallulah lent her. “I don’t know what kind of enchantress your great grandmother was,” she admitted, “but there’s something uncanny about this necklace. Goodness gracious, I couldn’t have fathomed how positively nerve-wracking the competition could be… but when I read that inscription, it’s like this soothing song played just for me… and my anxieties just sort of disappeared. I can see why it’s so special… you’ve got to hang on to this. Thank you for letting me borrow it.” She then turned toward Othniel and offered a small smile. “I’m really tired, Othniel, but I suppose I might be down for a game. I’ll just need a few minutes to get changed into comfy clothes.”

“Don’t take too long,” urged Othniel. “It’s already past nine…”

Less than an hour later, the boisterous crowd in the common room dispersed for the evening. Harry and Othniel wasted no time getting into their pajamas and crawled into their respective four-posters; indeed, they were both out within a matter of minutes.

Several hours later, Harry began to shiver. The air wasn’t cold; rather, he felt an eerie presence. He sat up in his sheets, and flinched at the strange spectral visage before him. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming again, or if it was real…

The spectre wasn’t nearly as frightening as the demonic presence that taunted him in his nightmare a few nights earlier, but it certainly wasn’t a face he recognized. It was a girl, he noticed, perhaps Missy’s age, though she was shorter and pudgier and with a bob-cut of chestnut hair, with an unflattering sneer fixed on her face. Harry turned toward Othniel and began to whisper to him… “Hey, Othniel… do you feel that?”

Othniel didn’t so much as stir, which only deepened Harry’s confusion. If this was really a ghost, couldn’t his roommates also feel the supernatural presence? He fixed his gaze on the spectral visitor again. He pinched himself on the rear-end… but his roommates remained asleep, and the shimmering presence remained.

“It’s your fault I died, Potter,” the girl wheezed.

Harry tilted his head and gave the ghost a puzzled expression. “My fault? Who are you? And how do you know who I am?”

The girl deepened her sneered at Harry. “Merlin, you’re daft.” She let out a long, airy sigh. “I was Morgan Doolittle. Ring a bell?”

Harry’s head tilted further. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve heard of you, but I don’t remember meeting you, so you’ll have to forgive my ignorance.” He blinked slowly. “Why are you here? Can I, erm, help you?”

“You’re the Boy-Who-Lived,” continued Morgan in her haughty tone. “You’re the only one who can help me.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “How did you know that? Not many people at Ilvermorny seem to know, or at least care about my past…”

“Hello, Potter,” came Morgan’s sarcastic reply. “Most of the rabble don’t know of your heritage, but to the Old Money families, you are quite well-known… many of our families are related to the ones in Magical Europe, after all.” Her silvery face turned a darker gray. “And as ashamed as I am to admit it, you and I are distantly related…”

Harry’s cheeks flushed with anger. “Believe me, I find that equally distasteful. Maybe I don’t want to help you, considering your reputation while you were alive. Maybe you deserved your fate of wandering the castle halls for all eternity. Why don’t you just save your breath, and leave me be?” He began to turn away from Morgan and tried to settle back in for the night.

Morgan’s tone changed, sounding far more urgent this time. “Potter, wait…”

Harry let out a frustrated groan. “This had better be important, Doolittle,” he spat with impatience.

“Promise me you’ll find and destroy the Orb of Exuberance,” Morgan pleaded. “I beg you. It’s an unholy device crafted in the Burning Hells by Lucifer himself… only once it’s destroyed, will I find peace in the afterlife.”

Harry’s nostrils flared. “I’ve already planned to destroy the Orb. But know this, Doolittle, I’m not doing it for you. The reasons are mine, and mine alone.”

Morgan shrugged. “Regardless of your reasons, if you manage to destroy the Orb, you’ll have my gratitude.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see… you don’t seem to be much nicer in death.”

“Old habits die hard,” replied Morgan.

“If you don’t mind,” yawned Harry, “I’d really like to get back to sleep. Between hauntings and nightmares, a good night’s sleep has been rather hard to come by as of late.” The shimmery form of Morgan’s spirit gradually dissipated into thin air, and Harry drifted back to sleep.

***

It was already in the second half of October, and autumn was in full swing. The school grounds were littered with gold, orange, and red leaves from the myriad oak, maple, and elm trees that dotted the castle grounds. The joyous sounds of first and second-year students could be heard on the weekends, as they amassed enormous piles of leaves and cannonballed into them with reckless abandon. There was a general feeling of merriment throughout the campus, as Halloween was fast approaching, and the unmistakable scents of pumpkin and apple cinnamon candles wafted throughout the halls. At dinner, children could now ask to have their goblets filled with hot apple cider or pumpkin juice, in addition to the standard puckerberry juice.

Most of the faculty seemed to be in high spirits, except for the perpetually-cantankerous Madam L. In a particularly tense Thursday Potions class, poor Othniel had added ten lionfish spines to his Wiggenweld Potion in one go instead of separating them with a stir. An infuriated Madam L gave Othniel a zero for the day for not following instructions, in addition to a demerit. She looked about ready to knock his cauldron to the floor with her long, gnarled staff (which served mainly as a walking stick, but many of the students got the impression it was magically imbued and may have served as a backup wand of sorts), but instead just pounded the staff into the floor so hard that it probably should have shattered it. She muttered some colorful wizarding-slang under her breath before addressing Othniel in a more composed, controlled fashion.

“You’re lucky your nose is still attached to your face, Beckett,” she snarled, her beady eyes rife with frustration. “Inattentive students have lost appendages in the past, sometimes permanently. You may return to the next seminar after you’ve discussed with your house head why it’s important to follow directions to a tee. I’ll want both a signed note from Professor Frye, and a page and a half essay on the importance of following instructions. Depending on your grammar and sincerity, I may be inclined to give you a small amount of credit back. Until then, get out of my sight.” She pointed a long, crooked finger toward the door.

Othniel hurriedly packed his belongings and left the classroom without so much as a peep. Some of the remaining students snickered to themselves, but Madam L wouldn’t have any of it. “Silence,” she barked. “I may have made an example out of Mister Beckett, but be mindful… it could have just as easily been any of the rest of you. He was foolish enough to get caught this time… but judging by the results of some of your previous… attempts at potion making, the lot of you have hardly been perfect. The next person who laughs at another student’s expense will also be dismissed and referred to their house head. No exceptions. Potions is no joke – only the most serious minds can truly master this delicate and arcane art.” She shook her head in frustration. “As you were,” she sighed.

About forty minutes later, she checked samples from her pupils. She stopped by Tallulah’s desk first and inspected a flask. “Not bad, Miss Slater,” she murmured with a curt nod of approval. “Exceeds Expectations… and a point to the Horned Serpents for following directions.”

“Thank you, Madam L,” squeaked Tallulah. She co*cked her head. “What did I do wrong? What can I do to get an Outstanding?”

“I don’t simply give a pupil an Outstanding,” replied Madam L coolly. “You appear to have the aptitude to be a competent potioneer, young lady. You’ll need to blow my mind to earn an O… and you’re nowhere near that level yet.” She then reached over to look over Harry’s sample. “Solid work, Potter,” she purred. “What I just told Slater also applies to you… you’ve proven that you can follow instructions and create a respectable elixir, but you’ll have to go above and beyond to even dream of getting an O. Exceeds Expectations, and a point to the Horned Serpents for your efforts.”

“Thanks, Madam L,” Harry replied, grateful to have gotten even modest praise from the Potions Master. He then arched an eyebrow. “Erm, Madam L? If Tallulah and I can get Othniel to be even decent at Potions at some point this term, would that be enough for an O?”

Madam L laughed bitterly. “That’ll be the day, Potter. Tell you what… if you and Slater can work with Beckett, and if I see noticeable improvement from him, I might give you two that O by the end of term.” She eyed both Harry and Tallulah before letting out a rather unflattering snort. “Good luck… you’re going to need it.”

***

That afternoon, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah met with Professor Lupin in his office during their shared free period, as they’ve been doing for the past several weeks. Professor Lupin poured himself some hot Chai tea, while Harry enjoyed a cup of pumpkin juice, Othniel had some puckerberry juice, and Tallulah got a mug of hot apple cider with extra cinnamon.

“I’m sorry we missed each other yesterday,” Lupin began, “but thanks to your friend Anastasia’s… detective work a while ago, you know exactly why.”

“Don’t sweat it, Professor,” Harry replied. “Like we said, your condition doesn’t change how we feel about you. All three of us really like having you as our Defense teacher.”

“At least you’re nothing like Madam L,” grumbled Othniel. “She gave me a zero for the day and referred me to my house head for messing up my Wiggenweld Potion… I know I wasn’t the only student who mucked it up… I was just the unlucky one who got caught!”

“She is a bit on the grumpy side, isn’t she?” chuckled Lupin. “She isn’t the most popular instructor on the staff, but she also takes her craft very seriously. I’ve spent some time with her one-on-one, and I get the feeling that she wasn’t always the callous, crass old cuss that we see today. Long ago – decades before even I was born, in fact – there was a global wizarding war that, until a certain Dark Lord came to power, was the worst our world had ever seen. There was a dark wizard named Gellert Grindelwald who held the belief that those gifted with magical capabilities were destined to rule the entirety of the world – magical and non-magical alike.”

He smiled sadly at the children. “Madam L was a young woman then, probably about my age, give or take. She was vehemently opposed to the notion that witches and wizards were naturally superior, and that the no-maj population should be enslaved in retaliation for their acts of violence against the magical world in the centuries past. Her husband, Lech Lewandowski, was the no-maj born son of Polish immigrants who came to the United States in the first decade of the twentieth century. He went on to become one of the most legendary aurors in MACUSA history. He had taken down countless followers of Grindelwald, and even fought Grindelwald himself on multiple occasions.”

Lupin then shook his head in despair. “In 1944, Lech was again challenged by Grindelwald to an honorable duel, which of course he accepted… but little did he know that he was being lured into a trap. Two of Grindelwald’s most sad*stic lieutenants, Konrad Hjeimdall and Lars van Krupp ambushed him in a Tyrolean cave and blasted him with the Cruciatus Curse. They then locked him up in Nuremgrad as a prisoner of war… while he maintained much of his sanity, the effects of the curse left him in a pained and weakened state. He was eventually released from the castle once Grindelwald was defeated, but he never made it home. Nobody knows precisely what happened… he may have perished on the journey home, or he may have been so badly tortured that he voluntarily took his own life… regardless, the loss of her husband left Gwendolyn bitter and lonely. She accepted employment at Ilvermorny not long after the war, hoping that working in an academic environment would give her purpose.”

“She might have found purpose,” surmised Tallulah, “but she found little joy. I don’t think I’ve seen her smile once so far.”

“You went to Hogwarts, right?” Othniel asked. “Did they offer you the Defense teaching position by any chance?”

Lupin let out a long, slow exhale. “Some… bridges have been burned,” he creaked with shame. “I do maintain a positive relationship with some of the faculty there… but there are others who would not tolerate my presence…”

Harry bit his lip. “Because you have lycanthropy?”

“Partially, yes,” replied Lupin. “My condition isn’t exactly a well-guarded secret there. Furthermore, the Potions Master there and I don’t really see eye-to-eye.” He shrugged. “I don’t have anything against him, personally, but he was a bit of a rival to your father and godfather, Harry. His dislike of me is basically a case of guilt by association.”

Harry tilted his head. “Rival? In what sense?”

“First and foremost, we were all sorted in Gryffindor, but… Sevvy was placed in Slytherin. Gryffindor and Slytherin have been trying to one-up each other for ages, you see. It’s easily the fiercest house rivalry at Hogwarts,” murmured Lupin. He shrugged. “At his core, he is an honorable wizard, which is more than I can say about many of his old housemates, but their influence rubbed off on him, so he’s done some… less-than-honorable things. Perhaps most damning of all was the falling out he had with your mother. He adored her, you see… but in a moment of weakness he said something that he truly regretted, and as a direct result of that she cut ties with him and chose James, your father.”

“Would you trust him to craft Wolfsbane for you had you been appointed to the Defense post?” Tallulah asked innocently.

“I… I would like to say yes,” admitted Lupin. “Unlike Sirius and James, I didn’t partake in their personal rivalry with him. I saw what Lily saw… a flawed, but good person. It’s just the company he kept that makes me a little wary… that being said, Professor Dumbledore does trust him quite deeply.”

“Professor Dumbledore? As in, the Headmaster of Hogwarts?” chirped Tallulah.

“Correct, Tallulah,” Lupin responded with a quick nod. “He’s also the wizard who captured Grindelwald over forty five years ago!”

Othniel rubbed his chin. “D’you regret leaving Magical Britain, sir?”

“It’s home, so there are times I do miss it,” confirmed Lupin. He smiled warmly at the kids. “But when I see your bright and shining faces… I know I’ve found my calling.”

Harry tapped Othniel and Tallulah on the shoulder. “Hey, d’you two mind stepping outside for just a few seconds? I have a personal question I’d like to ask the professor.”

“That’s fine, Harry,” replied Tallulah softly. “Take your time.” She and Othniel quietly left the room, leaving just Harry and Lupin.

“So… erm, Remus,” Harry began, feeling somewhat uneasy as he’d just addressed his Defense teacher by his first name, “I think I just spoke with Morgan Doolittle’s ghost last night… she visited me and kinda blamed me for her death. She then asked me to destroy the Orb of Exuberance as it would give her the peace she needs to rest easy in the afterlife…”

Lupin stroked his short, grizzled beard. “Did she say why she blamed you for her death? You didn’t even know her, as far as I can tell…”

Harry shook his head. “That’s the thing, I didn’t know her. I mean, I know some people that did, and they didn’t get along all that well with her… and honestly, she was about as arrogant in death as she was in life. I initially refused to hear her out… she’s already dead, and not my – or anyone’s – concern, to be honest.”

He then let his head drop a bit. “She then sort of changed her tone a little bit, and basically begged me to destroy the Orb. I told her that I’d do it, but it’s not for her sake. I saw that rod in my dreams some time ago… and it looks powerful… like, too powerful. I could do some really amazing things with it, but also some awful things with it… if I use it, I’m afraid I’ll go dark forever…”

“Harry,” murmured Lupin, “I don’t think I’m the one that can help you interpret these dreams and hauntings… if you can, write down all that you can remember and give it to me. Every time you have some sort of extraordinary encounter – it can be either real or perceived – just write down whatever details you can remember, and hand them to me. We may have to consult Professor Haatali to see what this all means, as I genuinely believe he’s the one best-equipped to make sense of this.”

“All right,” agreed Harry. “Just let me know.”

Chapter 39: Halloween Feast

Chapter Text

At long last, the biggest event since the Start-of-Term Feast had arrived at Ilvermorny – Halloween. The students had to dress in their formal robes for the day, but Harry didn’t mind. Othniel grumbled to himself as he changed into his formal attire. He heard sharp, sudden laughter as soon as he emerged from his privacy blinds.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

Harry was laughing so hard, he nearly fell to the floor. “Good heavens, Othniel… haven’t you ever heard of a mirror before?”

Othniel’s eyes shifted back and forth. “Erm… yeah? Why do you ask?”

Harry was helpless to stop his chortling. “Well, for starters, you big goof, you missed a button on your sweater vest.” He shook his head and grinned. “Also, your collar looks a little wonky… and you might want to run a comb through that hair of yours.”

“Oh, you’re just nitpicking,” Othniel replied with an eyeroll. He sighed. “Uhm… it’s not that bad, is it?”

Harry shrugged. “Weeeelllll… I’m not saying this to be mean, but you kinda look sloppy today, dude. I just don’t want you to get a demerit from Missy or one of the other trustees.”

“My sister Leah says I have the hygiene of a caveman,” admitted Othniel. “I guess she might have a point…”

“Ya think?” Harry replied with a snicker. “Honestly, Othniel. You might want to double your efforts in maintaining your appearance… you might not think it’ll mean anything now, but a couple of years from now… you’ll be looking at girls differently. Girls like Tallulah.”

“Hah!” yelped Othniel. “I don’t think so, dude. Tallulah is all right, but to me… she’s just like one of the guys.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “You say that now, but like I said… you’ll probably change your tune during third or fourth year.” He grinned at his friend. “A few months back, I had a bit of a conversation with my godfather Sirius. I thought he was insane for hinting that I could be… dating Ana one day… but in the two months I’ve spent here, I’m starting to think he’s right. I mean, I’m not ready to date her now, but look at Nova. She’s just the year ahead of Ana and she’s already starting to look more woman than girl. Ana isn’t going to have that ‘little girl’ look for too much longer, y’know.”

“Your godfather’s single, right? What could he possibly know about the fairer sex?” scoffed Othniel.

“He is a bachelor, yes,” Harry confirmed. “But I trust the advice he gives me as he’s dated countless girls. Mostly magical, but a few non-magical ones too. He says he’s just waiting for the right one to settle down with, but I also thinks he cherishes the freedom that goes along with being single. I also get the feeling that being an actual father scares him a little bit, yet he’s been wonderful in his role as godfather. He’s British to the core, yet he willingly moved to Canada… just for me. And I’ll always love him for it.”

“He sounds like the kind of person that my parents have always warned me to stay away from,” chuckled Othniel. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around how being magical is compatible with Christianity… I brought my Bible with me and I still read it several times a week. The Good Book does provide some comfort, but it doesn’t have all the answers… like, how can my family be proud of me even though I up and left them to study at some weird pagan school on the East Coast?”

“I don’t know what denomination you are,” Harry offered, “but have you like, gone to a confessional booth or talked to a pastor or anything?”

Othniel laughed bitterly. “Hah! I come from a staunch Methodist family… in fact, my maternal grandfather’s the senior pastor at our church! Yeeeah… talking to him about my, erm, gifts is just going to be an awkward and uncomfortable conversation. He’d probably douse me with holy water and try and exorcise any malevolent spirits from my body.”

Harry winced. “I see. I didn’t grow up in a religious household, though my Aunt Rhonda did grow up Anglican. She doesn’t like talking about that very much… perhaps she feels guilty for abandoning her faith. She doesn’t talk about her side of the family very much as I think she has some strained relationships with her family back home. Maybe she’d be someone you can talk to as you have some common ground?”

“She’s the non-magical one, right?” asked Othniel.

“Yeah,” confirmed Harry. “She knows a few things about the magical world, but she can’t cast spells or anything.” He tilted his head a few degrees. “Thanksgiving is less than a month away… have you decided on what you wanted to do? You seemed to be torn the last time I asked…”

“Stay at the castle, I guess,” murmured Othniel. “Like I said before, my folks are probably planning on going to my dad’s parents in western Montana again.”

“If you want, maybe you could spend Thanksgiving with my family in Surrey,” offered Harry. “You’ll still have the train ride, but other than the three and a half hour drive from Seattle to Greater Vancouver, you won’t have to travel anywhere at least. There’s going to be a pretty good gathering – besides myself, Uncle Roger, Aunt Rhonda, and Sirius, both Nova and Professor Lupin will be there.”

“D’you think they’d be okay with that on short notice?” Othniel countered with some skepticism. “I mean, I guess I’m not opposed, but I don’t want to inconvenience your family. On top of that, I’d feel a little weird spending Thanksgiving with a family that isn’t mine.” He shrugged. “Tell you what. I’d like a little time to mull it over. I’ll get back to you by tomorrow at the latest.”

Harry nodded. “That’s fine. Just… no later than tomorrow.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Speaking about tomorrow – that’s Nova’s birthday. I’ll need to talk to Ana and see if we can do something for her. Chances are it won’t be much, but even something simple like making and signing a homemade card would be a nice gesture. Would you be down for that?”

“She’s more your friend than mine, but I can do that,” agreed Othniel. “So if she’s a third-year, that makes her what… fourteen?”

“That sounds right,” said Harry with a small nod. “Oh, and when’s your birthday? I’ll need to remember that.”

“Several months away,” replied Othniel. “May 4^th.”

Harry grinned. “Cool. Mine’s July 31^st. I’ll have to ask Ana and Tallulah what theirs is sometime. Hopefully I didn’t already miss them…”

“I doubt it,” surmised Othniel. “I’m sure they would have probably told us if it was their birthday already.”

***

By the time four o’clock rolled around, hordes of students bolted for their respective dormitories to freshen up for the grand feast later that evening. While Harry headed to the latrine, the first thing Othniel did was open his drawers to find some comfortable personal clothes to change into when he heard a confused “Uhhh…” from across the room.

Othniel turned to his left and saw his roommate Quentin staring at him with a rather puzzled expression on his face. “What are you doing, Othniel? You did read the bulletin today, I hope?”

“I’m changing, what does it look like I’m doing?” replied Othniel. “I skimmed over it this morning…”

Quentin arched an eyebrow. “You might want to start reading those bulletins a little bit more carefully, man. It specifically said that all students are to remain in formal robes until after the feast. I’m surprised Harry didn’t catch you first…” He let out a small, frustrated groan. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I get the feeling that you need someone to hold your hand to get through the day. Merlin, where would you be without Harry? He’s the one who makes sure you get up on time, or you look presentable… and I’ve seen Tallulah harp on you about your schoolwork a couple of times.”

The color flushed from Othniel’s cheeks as his jaw dropped. “Does that make me, erm, bad?”

Quentin smiled wanly and shook his head. “No. I think you’re a good kid, but a little responsibility isn’t going to hurt you.”

Othniel shrugged. “Okay… how would I go about doing that?”

Quentin chuckled. “Well, reading the daily bulletin in its entirety would be a good place to start. No, not everything will apply to you, but you’ll want to read it anyway because you’ll probably miss something important if you just search for what you think applies to you.” He pulled out a small square mirror from his nightstand, and adjusted his bowtie. “And try listening to your friends and housemates more.”

“But I do try,” countered Othniel.

Quentin clapped Othniel on the shoulder. “Try harder,” he murmured with a silly grin. “I’m going to the common room for a bit… I’ll see you at dinner.”

“See you,” Othniel replied.

A few minutes before six, Harry and Othniel went with the rest of their housemates to the mess hall for the Halloween feast. The dining hall was certainly done up in style – many jack o’lanterns were hung from the ceiling, serving as spooky chandeliers. Several castle ghosts made an appearance, including a spectral headless horseman riding a thestral steed. Many students from all four houses whirled around as they heard an ominous, disembodied laugh… ”Happy Hallow’s Eve to all… hahahahahaha…” The rider charged at full speed, in between the Pukwudgie and Thunderbird tables, and disappeared into thin air before he reached the other side of the hall.

A tall, furry presence near the faculty table caught Harry’s eye. “Is that… a sasquatch?” he wondered to himself. It was certainly very large, perhaps a full head taller than even the imposing Mister Floyd, and completely covered with shaggy, chestnut fur. Harry couldn’t make out what the sasquatch was saying, as he could only hear an occasional grunt or growl, but Professor Fontaine appeared to understand him perfectly well.

Moments later, the sasquatch ambled down to the tables and communicated with some of the students in pantomime. The children sure seemed to get a thrill from his presence – at least Harry thought the sasquatch was a male – and even entertained some of them with corny magic tricks, such as pulling several tied handkerchiefs from a Thunderbird girl’s ear, or making a Wampus boy’s chocolate frog card disappear with sleight-of-hand.

“Is that what I think it is?” Tallulah asked Ana, pointing at the sasquatch. “He’s a hoot!” She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Ana grinned. “You mean Sylvester? Yeah, he’s pretty good friends with Professor Fontaine. He’ll make occasional appearances and have some fun with the students. He can’t perform real magic, but don’t tell him that. He’s a little sensitive…”

“Does anyone besides Professor Fontaine understand him? He just kind of barks and growls,” asked Harry.

“He doesn’t speak English, but he understands it perfectly well,” replied Ana. “He looks primal, but he’s actually quite intelligent. If you know American Sign Language, you can use that to communicate with him.”

“D’you know any sign language?” asked Othniel.

“I know a fair bit, yeah,” replied Ana. “My grandfather’s nearly deaf. He lost a lot of his hearing in the Korean War forty years ago, and it’s been downhill ever since.” She then turned to Harry, and beckoned him closer so she could whisper in his ear. “Oh, and meet me in the library after dinner so we can work on Nova’s card together. Tallulah and Othniel can sign it in the morning.”

“Great,” Harry whispered back. “Works for me.”

Ana giggled. “I’m surprised you brought it up earlier.”

“Her birthday’s really easy to remember,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I figured I needed to do something nice for her, since she’s basically my foster sister.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate the gesture,” giggled Ana.

Whoosh!

The entire mess hall went dark – even the jack o’lanterns went out. There was a rush of cold, dry air that made everybody shiver to their cores. Some of the children whipped out their wands to cast a quick lumos spell, but the lights all died out in seconds.

“What’s going on?” Tallulah whispered. “Is this… normal?”

“I don’t know,” Ana replied softly. “This definitely didn’t happen last term.”

Harry’s ears perked up… he heard a soft, steady beating sound. He wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from, but his heart raced. The steady beating sound grew louder and louder, as if something… or someone with less-than-good intentions was approaching. The beating continued for about a minute, and then… nothing.

Harry’s pulse returned to normal for a fleeting moment, but his heart thundered once again. It was quiet… too quiet. If Professor Fontaine had a pin, he could drop it and Harry could hear it clearly from a hundred feet away, he figured. What came next, nary a soul was prepared for…

“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwgh!”

The most dreadful, terrifying, nerve-wracking roar literally shook the mess hall. Hundreds of students screamed at the top of their lungs in sheer horror – even Ana and Tallulah were holding each other for dear life. Harry slowly stood to his feet to find the source of that horrific din. Whatever it was, it wasn’t inside the mess hall, he thought. It must have come from perhaps underneath the castle, or…

“Gah!” Harry put an arm over his eyes to shield them from the blinding light that he saw from outside. He saw something moving from behind what looked to be a bright silvery-blue cloud, but it was moving away from the castle. The strange cloud obscured whatever that creature was; its silhouette diminishing as it headed off in the horizon…

Chapter 40: Nova's Birthday

Chapter Text

Moments later, the suspended jack o’lanterns flickered and the mess hall was fully illuminated again. Hundreds of students were huddled on the floor, and when they realized that they could see again, they slowly returned to their seats. Fear could be seen on nearly all of their faces; indeed, some were whimpering and sobbing. Others were quaking where they sat; a luxurious banquet had all of a sudden become the least of their worries.

At the faculty table, multiple professors threw accusatory glares at Professor Fontaine. He nodded silently at his staff, and stood to his feet to address the mess hall. His countenance and posture indicated that he fully intended to restore order. “May I have your attention please,” he called out. “I assume full responsibility for the fly-over which happened a few minutes ago. You see, I had arranged for one of my South American friends to send one of his Patagonian Frostscale dragons as part of this evening’s festivities. Unfortunately, I did not anticipate the dragon flying as close to the castle as it did, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

He bowed his head shamefully. “You are all excused for the evening. Our Pukwudgie Helpers will provide victuals to each common room momentarily, so you may enjoy your dinner in the comforts of your personal clothes.”

Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah followed their housemates upstairs to the Horned Serpent tower. They wasted no time getting changed out of their formal robes, and met up in their common room just a few minutes later. They were soon joined by most of the rest of their housemates, but few – if any – of them were in particularly jovial spirits. Some of the upperclassmen were openly discussing the repercussions of the mishap – could Professor Fontaine actually lose his job over a mismanaged celebration?

“I’ve gone and lost my appetite,” moaned Tallulah. Her eyes were red and puffy – it was apparent that the incident shook her to her core. “What in tarnation was Professor Fontaine thinking?”

“My ears are still ringing,” grumbled Othniel. “Didja hear how loud that thing was? Goodness gracious…”

“The only thing louder are your burps,” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. Both he and Othniel laughed, while Tallulah let out an uneasy giggle.

“If there is a silver lining to us being excused early, at least you don’t have to embarrass your housemates at the dinner table tonight,” cracked Tallulah. “Your table manners are disgraceful, Othniel.”

Othniel groaned. “So I’m told.”

“One of these days I’m going to teach you how to eat like a gentleman,” promised Tallulah. She threw him a sneaky grin. “When I’m through, you’ll even know the difference between a salad and a dinner fork, and where to position them when setting the table.”

“Really, Tallulah?” whined Othniel. “I’m not that bad… am I?” Both Harry and Tallulah gave him strange looks.

“I’m dead serious,” confirmed Tallulah. She gave him a small, thin smile. “You’ll thank me for it later.” Harry even gently nudged Othniel in the elbow, nodding his approval at Tallulah’s offer.

Before Othniel could muster a word of complaint, a table appeared in the center of the common room, complete with plates, goblets, napkins, and silverware. Missy the trustee then spoke up. “Attention, everyone! When I call your year, you will come up and take a plate, a goblet of juice, a napkin, and a set of silverware. Once you take your seat, you will place the napkin on your lap. Once you do that, the napkin will read your mind and serve whatever you want. When you are finished, I want you all to neatly stack your empty plates, goblets, and silverware on the table and place your napkins in the adjacent box.” She started with the seventh years, and made her way down. Although Tallulah didn’t seem to care, Othniel and Harry were still quite famished and couldn’t wait for their turn.

Ten minutes later, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah returned to their places. Once Harry placed his napkin on his lap, two slices of pepperoni pizza instantly appeared on his plate. Othniel got a sizable helping of spaghetti, while Tallulah had a modest chef salad.

Shortly after they finished eating, the three friends heard a familiar soprano greeting. “Hey there, firstie friends!”

“Ana!” Harry, Othniel and Tallulah cried out.

Anastasia, to her credit, looked no worse for the wear, following the frightening episode in the mess hall less than an hour earlier. She managed a friendly smile, though she couldn’t hide the notes of concern in her voice or bags of worry around her eyes. “How are you guys?”

Tallulah shrugged. “I’unno, all right, I s’pose… a little shaken still…”

Ana nodded. “Same here, girlfriend. Same here.” She tilted her head. “I hope the lot of you managed to eat at least a little something…”

“We did,” confirmed Harry. “I was worried that Tallulah was going to go without, but she had a bit of salad a few minutes ago.”

“That’s good,” murmured Ana. “Now considering that all three of you are together, would you want to head to the library in a few minutes and work on…” She scanned the room to make sure there were no eavesdroppers before continuing. “N-O-V-A’s card?”

The three younger children nodded. Tallulah, though, appeared to have certain reservations as she spoke up with a timid squeak. “Erm, Ana, are we even allowed to leave the tower this evening?”

Ana covered her mouth with a hand as she giggled. “Of course we do. I even took the precaution of asking Missy right before I went looking for you guys.”

“Count me in then,” replied Tallulah.

“Me too,” added Harry.

“Me three,” chimed in Othniel.

About a half hour later, the four young Horned Serpents met up in the school library as planned. Ana was drawing a picture of a quidditch scene on makeshift cardstock, ostensibly of a chaser hucking a quaffle in one of three goal hoops.

“Is that supposed to be Nova?” asked Othniel, pointing at the card. “I didn’t even know she liked quiznitch…”

“That’s quidditch, Othniel,” giggled Ana. “And yes, Nova is very much into quidditch… she’s one of the reserve chasers on the Horned Serpent team, in fact.”

Harry stroked his chin. “Will we get to see a quidditch game anytime soon?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” replied Ana. “Nova’s been practicing for a few weeks already. The first game of the season is less than two weeks away, if memory serves.”

“So, who do the Horned Serpents play first?” asked Tallulah. “Does the whole school show up like they do for the Quiz Bowl?”

Ana shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “You’ll have to ask Nova tomorrow. And yes, you can expect a big turnout on the quidditch pitch. The atmosphere is vastly different than the Quiz Bowl – it gets about as loud as that dragon, and it can stretch for hours.”

Ana continued sketching out her design, and then handed the card to Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah to sign once she was finished. The three returned to the Horned Serpent tower a few minutes after nine, which allowed them just enough time to get in a couple rounds of Egyptian Rat Screw.

Harry tapped Ana on the shoulder just before she headed to her dormitory to retire for the evening. “I’m curious, when’s your birthday?” he asked, whispering in her ear.

Ana blushed, and smiled. “June 5^th, she replied softly. “When’s yours?”

“I can remember that… I’ll do something nice for your birthday. And mine’s July 31^st,” replied Harry with a grin of his own.

“Yours’ll be easy to remember. And I’ll do the same for you,” promised Ana.

***

The next morning, Ana, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah all surprised Nova at the Horned Serpent breakfast table by presenting her the card and singing ‘Happy Birthday’. Nova’s cheeks flushed scarlet with embarrassment, but she still thanked her friends for remembering her.

“How’s it feel to be fourteen, Nova?” asked Tallulah.

Nova shrugged. “Honestly? Not much different than thirteen.”

“I heard there’s a quiznitch game coming up,” added Othniel. “D’you think you might play?”

“Quidditch, you git. Quidditch,” replied Nova with a giggle. “As a matter of fact, yes, there is a game coming up in exactly two weeks. We play Wampus.” She looked upward in thought. “I might play a little bit, but only if the game drags on for more than a half hour or so. I only relieve one of our starting chasers if they get banged up or tired.”

“Do we have a good team this year?” asked Harry.

“Only time will tell,” murmured Nova. “Mitch Huber is captain this year… he’s pretty relentless when running his practices. They’re definitely more intense than how Gareth Capshaw ran them last term.”

“Tougher practices can be helpful,” Harry noted. “But if the chemistry isn’t there, then the results aren’t going to be any better.”

“There’s definitely better chemistry this time,” Nova said. “Huber was very up-front during the very first practice of the season. He said that if anyone didn’t like how he conducted practices, they can leave at any point. Capshaw was rather… lackadaisical in how he ran the team last year, and it almost led to a mutiny. Huber’s a natural leader… we’ve been desperate to have someone that can bring everyone under the same banner. He’s been nothing short of a godsend.”

“How did the Horned Serpents finish last year?” asked Tallulah.

“We came in third in the Quidditch Cup standings, and we were lucky to finish as high was we did,” sighed Nova. “We haven’t finished higher than third in five years… and we haven’t won the Quidditch Cup since before I was born. All the other houses have won at least once since then. It’s embarrassing, really.”

“We’re scholars, not athletes,” huffed Ana. “We’re expected to be the house to beat at the Quiz Bowl, not quidditch.”

“It’s that very attitude that has kept us from being any good,” retorted Nova. “And while we pride ourselves in our Quiz Bowl prowess, it’s not like we win every single year. Shoot, we finished in fourth place in both events during my first year. I’m still trying to wash that nasty taste out of my mouth.” She shuddered at the unpleasant memory. She then smiled at her friends. “Thank you for the birthday card, by the way. It’s lovely.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Harry. “I s’pose Ana should take most of the credit, as she’s the one who designed it…”

“And the three of you signed it and wrote sweet little notes,” countered Nova. “It wasn’t all Ana, you know.”

Harry shrugged. “We just wanted to let you know that we’ve been thinking about you is all… I wish I had an actual gift to give you, but physical gifts are rather hard to come by at the castle…”

“Pshaw,” spat Nova. “The lot of you have already given me the gift of friendship. That’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

Harry turned toward Tallulah. “I don’t think I asked you when your birthday was,” he asked with a sheepish expression on his face. “I know everyone else’s…”

“Not too far from now, actually,” replied Tallulah. “December 10^th.”

“Almost a Christmas baby then,” added Ana. “Did you get your Christmas and birthday presents all at once, or separately?”

“Usually separately,” replied Tallulah. “Some of my relatives send presents all at once out of convenience – those that live too far away to visit me in person, at least.”

“That’s totally understandable,” Ana said with a nod. “My older sister’s a December baby too. Her birthday is even closer to Christmas – the 17^th. Some of our relatives do the same thing for her.”

Othniel smiled wanly at Tallulah. “I don’t think we can promise you anything other than a card for your birthday, ‘Lu, but at least you won’t hop on the train home thinking you’ve been forgotten!”

“A card’s plenty, Othniel,” giggled Tallulah. “I don’t want y’all to feel like you’ve gotta bend over backwards just for me…”

“Well, maybe after we’ve learned a bit more magic we can think of more unique ways to show our appreciation,” Othniel replied with a chuckle.

Chapter 41: The Match

Chapter Text

By mid-November, the chilly days had turned downright cold – certainly cold enough to snow, but the ground remained dry, at least for the time being. On Saturday the 16^th – less than two weeks before Thanksgiving – the first quidditch match of the term took place between the Horned Serpents and Wampus.

Harry and Othniel woke up that morning shivering – it was the coldest day of the term so far – and wasted little time getting bundled up. They donned heavy woolen sweaters and thick socks and bolted toward the mess hall for a warm breakfast. The delicious smells of hot oatmeal, crispy bacon and warm spiced apple cider tugged at their nostrils. Othniel was about to dive face-first into his breakfast – almost literally – but was interrupted before he could plunge his spoon into his berry-laden oatmeal.

“Ahem.”

Othniel looked up from his bowl. Tallulah was staring at him, her eyes glued on to his. “I hope you remembered our little arrangement, Othniel… y’know, about learning proper table manners?”

“Uhhh…” Othniel tilted his head a few degrees. “I vaguely remember you bringing that up… but I didn’t think you were serious…”

Tallulah arched an eyebrow. “I was dead serious… and we’re going to start today.” She narrowed her eyes as Othniel opened his mouth to utter a complaint. “Don’t give me any lip, Othniel Gideon Beckett… it’s for your own good. Harry says that you’ll be joining his family for Thanksgiving, so please take it seriously. You’re still representing your house and school after all.”

Harry couldn’t help but chortle. “She called you by your full name, dude. That’s not a good sign.” Othniel gave Harry a small shove, followed by a spiteful glare.

Tallulah wagged a finger at Harry. “Don’t you laugh, Harry James Potter. You’ve got respectable manners, but it wouldn’t hurt if you followed along… you could very well learn something too.”

“How… how do you know our middle names?” asked Harry with a confused expression on his face.

Tallulah rolled her eyes. “Oh for land’s sake, it’s not like I had to locate your birth certificates or anything. Our teachers call out our full names during attendance.”

“Yours has to be persnickety,” groaned Othniel, “’cause that fits you to a tee!”

“It’s actually Jo,” replied Tallulah with an even bigger eyeroll than before. “Now will y’all be quiet so I can demonstrate proper etiquette?” She straightened herself, then cleared her throat. “First thing we’re going to work on is posture.” She hunched herself over a smidge. “This is how I see you at the table, Othniel. You need to sit up some. Roll those shoulders back a touch.” She sat more upright again, then gestured toward Othniel. “Now, you try it.”

Othniel wiggled his torso as he tried sitting up the way Tallulah demonstrated. He scowled as his friends laughed at his attempts. “Oh come on,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, Othniel,” giggled Tallulah. “It’s just so funny watching you… you look so uncomfortable. Just keep practicing, alright? You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

Othniel straightened himself again and rolled his shoulders back. “How’s this?”

Tallulah nodded. “That’s better, but you still look a little stiff. Now, be sure to keep those elbows off the table as well. You tend to do that a lot.”

“I don’t mean to,” Othniel said with a small shrug. “But I’ll try to be more mindful.”

“Thank you,” Tallulah murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you so we’ll stick with working on your posture for now.”

Othniel nodded. “I appreciate that.” His mouth then rounded into an ‘o’ shape. “By the way, the match against Wampus is at eleven o’clock today. Don’t forget that we’re supposed to wear our formal robes… that’s what the bulletin said, at least.”

Tallulah beamed at Othniel. “Well look at you… you’ve actually paid attention to the bulletin for once.” She giggled. “There may be hope for you yet.”

“It’s just as well,” added Harry. “It’s not going to be much above freezing today, so our formal robes with our overcoats and scarves would probably keep us a fair bit warmer than our regular uniforms.”

It was after eight by the time the children finished their breakfasts, so they hurried back to the Horned Serpent tower to get cleaned up and changed for the upcoming quidditch match. Othniel even took a few extra minutes to make sure his starched white shirt was stain and lint-free, and that his sweater vest was buttoned up correctly.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Harry. “You actually look sharp instead of slovenly for once,” he remarked. He then pointed at Othniel’s left elbow. “Y’know, you do have a piece of lint hanging off your sleeve.”

Othniel flipped his elbow up. “Do not.” He then glared at Harry, who was cracking up. “That wasn’t very funny, dude.”

Harry waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, lighten up Francis.” He then cracked a rather silly grin. “Normally you don’t put this much effort into well, anything. If I didn’t know any better, I think you have a little bit of a crush on Tallulah…”

“Do not,” Othniel shot back defiantly. “She’s all right, but I don’t like her… not like that, anyway. Besides, you’re one to talk… you’re practically smitten with Anastasia…”

“I’m nowhere near ready to date her,” admitted Harry, “but it doesn’t mean that I don’t find her cute… she’s a very pretty girl. Tallulah’s rather cute too, now that I think about it…”

“I s’pose so,” admitted Othniel. “D’you think… she’s wanting me to learn these table manners because she likes me a little bit?”

Harry smiled at his friend. “I’d wager that’s a distinct possibility. No, she’s not ready to date yet either, but if I had to guess… you’d be toward the top of her list when the time is right. I know you find her… annoying at times, but if she didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t bother teaching you how to sit up straight at the table!”

Othniel tilted his head, his eyes crossing slightly. “Wow… I guess I never really thought of it that way.”

Harry, still grinning, patted Othniel on the shoulder. “I have a hunch you’ll thank her for it one day.”

***

At about ten o’clock, once the boys were fully changed into their formal robes and overcoats, they headed for the common room and waited for Ana and Tallulah. Even with a roaring fire, the room still felt rather drafty in the far corners. Fortunately for them, there was an empty sofa not far from the fireplace, so they plopped themselves down and basked in the warmth.

Less than five minutes later, the boys heard the gentle clicking of black patent Mary Jane flats on hardwood approach them, followed by a familiar squeak. “Hiya, boys! You excited about the match?” She daintily took a seat on Harry’s right. Her hair was once again done up in a flawless French braid, and the light makeup on her face made her hazel eyes pop.

“Ana!” Harry and Othniel called out in unison.

“You look terrific,” added Harry.

Ana’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you, Harry. I thought about just wearing my hair down and wearing my watch cap, but I didn’t want to look frumpy, so earmuffs it is today!” She shook a pair of teal-and-gold earmuffs in one of her hands. She leaned over and tapped Othniel on the shoulder. “That’s the sharpest I’ve ever seen you look, Othniel. I’m sure Tallulah would approve.” Even Harry nodded in agreement.

Othniel groaned. “Well… thanks. Tallulah’s taking it upon herself to teach me table manners… after all, I’ve decided to take Harry up on his offer of spending Thanksgiving with his relatives. I guess I don’t want to act like a complete slob…”

Ana covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “She’s got her work cut out for her then! She won’t be able to wave her wand and turn you into a gentleman overnight, but with time and practice I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

“So, how’s Nova doing?” asked Harry. “I haven’t seen her at all this morning; I’m guessing she’s with her teammates?”

“She got up at the crack of dawn and got in her quidditch robes. They’ve been outside for a few hours already getting warmed up; I’d imagine Mitch Huber’s probably giving them a pep talk in the locker room as we speak,” replied Ana. “Wampus had a pretty good team last year – they finished second in the standings, but from what Nova says they also have a lot of new faces this year so who knows how things’ll go this term,” replied Ana.

“Nova says it’s been years since the Horned Serpents have been any good at quidditch,” Harry said with a sigh. “They haven’t finished as high as second place in at least five years…”

Ana nodded. “Historically, we’ve been the doormat in the Quidditch Cup standings. Nobody takes us seriously like they do for the Quiz Bowl, because even in the years we don’t do well, we’re seen as the house to beat.”

“I guess it just takes one or two players to change things,” surmised Harry. “Nova seems to have a pretty high opinion of Mitch Huber.”

Just then, a high-pitched squeak came from the hallway leading toward the girls’ dormitory area. “Not again, Gallifrey…” Then came a high-pitched feline growl, followed by the slamming of a heavy wooden door. Tallulah had a rather frustrated-looking expression on her face as she entered the common room.

“Sorry,” sighed Tallulah as she sat on Othniel’s left side. “Gallifrey was being a stinker again.” She quickly slipped on her teal-and-gold watch cap. “At least it’s not my shoes this time,” she murmured. “He’s now fascinated by my cap’s tassel.” She tilted her head toward Othniel; her jaw nearly dropped when she saw how neatly he had groomed and dressed himself. “Y’know something Othniel? You look plumb handsome today.” She blinked a few times, and addressed Harry this time as she pointed toward Othniel. “Did you have anything to do with that?” Harry merely shook his head ‘no’.

Tallulah looked Othniel up-and-down, unable to find any obvious discrepancies with his uniform. “Well look at you, Othniel Beckett, being on-point,” she cooed. She gave him a friendly chuck just below his shoulder. “If you keep this up, I might not be too embarrassed to introduce you to my parents one day.”

“You look rather nice yourself,” commented Othniel. He gestured toward Ana. “Erm, is there any chance you can style your hair like Ana’s? That’d be a good look for you.”

“I’ve never really, erm, styled my hair before,” admitted Tallulah. “Not like that at least. I just try to make it look presentable… but maybe someday… I’ll try to make my hair look fancy.”

“A few simple charms can make all the difference,” added Ana. “Ask me again sometime. I’ll help you out.”

“Oh, could you?” pleaded Tallulah. “While you don’t go all-out like Missy, you obviously know more about hair styling than I do…”

Ana giggled. “You should see me at reveille. My hair magically transforms from sleek ringlets to a wild jungle in a matter of hours!” She shook her head. “Before Ilvermorny, my mom or my older sister would sometimes help me with me hair… it took forever to tame it!”

Othniel cleared his throat. “According to the clock on the wall, it’s almost ten thirty. What say we start making our way to the stadium so we can get some good seats?”

Harry looked around and noticed that the crowd in the common room was noticeably smaller than what it was twenty minutes earlier. “At this rate, I’ll settle for any seats,” he remarked.

The four children began making their way out of the castle and toward the quidditch pitch. About ten minutes later, they found some seats in the middle of the Horned Serpent student section. Harry lamented that they couldn’t find a spot a little closer to the action, but Ana brought some binoculars and promised that she’d share them.

At eleven o’clock sharp, Coach Croom marched on the field, broomstick in hand. He had quite the serious expression on his face, or at least what Harry could make of it, as his Stetson hat obscured his dark eyes. He stopped precisely at the center of the field, awaiting the Wampus and Horned Serpent captains, Theresa Singh and Mitch Huber. The rest of each team stood a few paces off to each side. He nodded at each team captain in turn, before addressing them. “Alright, Miss Singh. Mister Huber. I want y’all to listen, and listen close. I want a nice, clean game, y’hear? Keep the physical contact to a minimum, and for Merlin’s sake, above the belt if you have to push someone out of the way. If I catch anyone intentionally injuring an opposing player, that’ll be an immediate disqualification. Any questions?”

“No sir,” replied Theresa and Mitch.

“Very good,” replied Croom with a curt nod. “Y’all shake hands now.” Once Theresa and Mitch shook hands, Croom continued. “Y’all mount your brooms. NOW LET’S GIT IT ON!!!” The stadium erupted in raucous cheers as the two teams took to the air on their brooms, and play commenced. The dizzying pace of the game was almost too much for the first-years to follow – just five minutes into the game, and the Horned Serpents had taken an early forty to ten lead.

Mitch had caught a particularly-hard thrown quaffle in front of the center-most goal hoop; the impact was so jarring it knocked him backward and he nearly fell off his broom as he hit the goal hoop. Thankfully, he was more shaken than anything, losing his focus for only a few seconds.

“Oh! I see Nova,” yelped Ana as she held her binoculars up to her face.

“Is she in?” asked Othniel.

“No, she’s sitting on the end of the bench,” replied Ana. She pointed at a ten o’clock position as she handed him the binoculars. “Those that are closer to the end of the bench are usually the first replacements.”

As the game went on, the Horned Serpents kept their edge, but Wampus was constantly nipping at their heels. As the clock struck noon, the Horned Serpents were leading 120 to 100, but a particularly brutal hit by one of the bludgers struck starting chaser Kayla Gilmore in the shoulder, knocking her off her broom. “Aaaagh!” she yelped as she tumbled nearly twenty feet to the ground. The entire stadium winced as they heard the audible thud of her body hitting the turf.

“Omigod,” gasped Tallulah as she saw the mishap unfold. She breathed a sigh of relief as Kayla tried to prop herself up, but it was almost certain that she had broken several bones; not to mention, her left shoulder had swollen to the size of a small watermelon due to the impact of the bludger. As Kayla was being carried off to the infirmary, Harry heard an excited yelp.

“Nova’s in!” declared Ana.

“Y’mean, she’s actually playing?” asked Harry in disbelief.

Ana handed Harry her binoculars. “Here, see for yourself.”

Harry donned the binoculars, and sure enough, saw the familiar dark blonde ponytailed girl swirling around on her broomstick, quaffle in hand. She deftly dodged a bludger as she approached the opposing goal hoops, and…

“That’s another Horned Serpent goal, courtesy of reserve chaser Nova Woodward!”

The announcer, who always seemed to talk a mile of a minute, sounded even more excited than usual. Although Harry had done well following along so far, he made sure that he paid extra close attention now that Nova was in. As the game pushed closer to one o’clock, the Horned Serpents were still clinging tot their lead, but could never separate themselves from Wampus.

Harry was certainly impressed with Nova’s effort; she played like she had something to prove. She had scored three goals in twenty minutes’ worth of play, and appeared to savor every second she was on the pitch. After two hours of play, fatigue was starting to become a factor – hopefully one of the seekers would catch the snitch and end the game before anyone else gets hurt, he thought.

As if his prayers were answered, the diminutive seventh-year Horned Serpent seeker Galina Tretyakova jerked her broomstick at an odd angle, and made a nose dive toward the turf at unnatural speeds in an attempt to catch the little golden orb. With one hand on her broomstick to keep her from digging a fifty-foot hole in the turf, and the other outstretched to catch the snitch, she suddenly tumbled off her broom, but sat up just as quickly. The tired and muddy Galina had a huge grin on her face as she opened her left hand, revealing the golden snitch.

“And there you have it,” cried the announcer. “The Horned Serpents have defeated Wampus, with a final score of three hundred seventy to two hundred!” The entire Horned Serpent student section erupted with jubilant chants of “How ‘bout them Horned Serpents? How ‘bout them Horned Serpents?”, then burst into the house fight song.

Chapter 42: Heading Home

Chapter Text

The Horned Serpent house was in high spirits – they had won their first quidditch match of the term; not to mention they had won both Quiz Bowl competitions they had participated in thus far. As the Thanksgiving holiday was fast approaching, a roller coaster of emotions filled the air. Feelings of giddiness, homesickness, anxiety… often felt in rapid succession.

Harry sat at the Horned Serpent table for breakfast with his friends the Friday before classes were to be excused for the holiday break. Hedwig dropped an envelope next to Harry’s tray, which he opened without any delay:

“15 Nov. 1991

Dear Harry,

I can’t believe your first term at Ilvermorny is nearly halfway through! Although the observance of the American Thanksgiving holiday is a bit of a foreign concept to us, we’ll do what we can to make your new friend Othniel feel at home. You’ll need to share your room with him, but that isn’t anything you’re not used to, so I wouldn’t think you’d have an issue with that arrangement.

Remus Lupin will be staying with Sirius during the break, in case you were wondering. As I’ve already promised a few weeks earlier, the three of us have a bit of a story to tell you. Some of it might not be easy to hear, but I reckon you’re mature enough to handle it. I suspect you may already know more than we’ve given you credit for anyway, being the inquisitive lad you are.

Your Aunt Rhonda and I can’t wait to see you. You’ll have to forgive us if things get a little… emotional, as it’s a true homecoming for Nova. I ask that you be a little extra patient with her as it’s the first time we’ve seen each other in over a decade – she has about as many memories of us, as you do of your birth parents, after all.

We look forward to seeing you in a few days. Until then, listen to your professors, study hard, and have some fun with your friends. Your godfather, aunt and I all love you more than you can possibly know.

Sincerely,

Uncle Roger”

Tallulah giggled. “Is that a letter from back home, Harry?”

“Yeah,” murmured Harry. He forced a small smile. “It’ll be good to spend a few days in Canada again, but there’s a lot on my mind… hopefully a week with the three men I admire most will put me at ease.”

Tallulah just made a quick, respectful nod. “Didn’t you say that Professor Lupin is heading back with you?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “So, how d’you feel about that? Having a teacher join you for Thanksgiving?”

Harry shrugged. “To me, it’s like having an uncle teach Defense. I don’t know him like I know Uncle Roger yet, but in the two and a half months I’ve known him, I’ve gotten comfortable enough to relax a little in front of him, at least outside of a classroom setting. And even if he didn’t know me before the term started, he’d still probably be my favorite teacher. His teaching style just really resonates with me.”

“Oh, it’s obvious you love Defense,” replied Tallulah with a little giggle. “You soak the information up faster than a kitchen sponge. I wish I was as good as you.”

“And you’re the best in our house at Transfiguration and Charms,” said Harry. “It didn’t take you long to grasp those subjects.”

Tallulah blushed. “Well, I do find those two classes to be quite fascinating…” Her face suddenly brightened. “Being that today’s our last full day before we’re excused for the break, would you like to exchange phone numbers?” She co*cked her head. “Your family does have a phone, right?”

Harry chuckled. “Yes, we have a phone. I don’t think my Aunt Rhonda could survive without one.”

“Just making sure,” replied Tallulah. “I know phones aren’t exactly commonplace in magical households. Now, as far as I know, calling Canada is much like a regular long-distance call… it won’t be super cheap, so it’ll probably be just one call, and probably kept to twenty minutes at the most.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said. “I know Aunt Rhonda has made calls to the US before, so it’s nothing she’s not used to.” He then opened his bag, produced a quill, ink, and some parchment, and quickly wrote his ten-digit phone number, then passed it to Tallulah. Tallulah then did the same thing for Harry.

“Since Othniel’s going to be staying with us, would you want to talk to him for a few minutes?” suggested Harry. “I’m sure he’d enjoy hearing your voice.” Othniel’s face turned purple with embarrassment.

“I might not be opposed,” squeaked Tallulah. “Here’s hoping that Nova prefers to use magical means to communicate with her friends – otherwise I’ll probably never get through!”

That evening, Harry and Othniel were busy packing their bags for the train ride home. The boys figured to have everything ready the night before, as the Chinook was set to depart the NAMURS station at ten o’clock sharp the following morning. Both of them were hoping that the trip to the subway tunnel would be a lot easier than the trip up, as it was quite the grueling hike.

Something about Harry seemed a little off for the past couple of hours, which puzzled Othniel. He finally caved in to his curiosity and asked Harry what was going on. “You don’t seem to be yourself this evening, man. Mind telling me what’s up?”

Harry sighed. “I got Tallulah’s phone number this morning... she seemed really interested in talking to me over the phone at least once during our break. I tried asking Ana for hers, but she wouldn’t give it to me yet.”

Othniel winced. “Bummer, dude. I thought she’d have been thrilled to talk to you.”

“I thought so too,” said Harry. “I mean, she had a good reason… she decided to stay at the castle for Thanksgiving. She was torn, but she can’t prep for the Quiz Bowl at home like she can at the castle…”

“Well, there’s always Christmas,” replied Othniel with a shrug.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that’s what she told me. Still, I was rather hoping to hear from her too…”

“So you’re not going to be able to speak to her for a week,” countered Othniel. “Christmas will be coming up in about a month… I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunity then.” He offered Harry a smile. “And Tallulah asked for your number, dude. You still have a call from her to look forward to…”

***

The next morning, as soon as Harry and Othniel woke up, they bundled themselves up in their wool overcoats, grabbed their belongings and followed their housemates down to the mess hall for breakfast. Before breakfast could be served, the caretaker Mister Floyd made an announcement in his usual booming voice:

“If you are planning on visiting your families for the Thanksgiving break, you will be required to turn in your wands directly to your head of house before you leave, as per school policy. They will remain at the faculty table until nine o’clock. Your wands will be returned to you at breakfast a week from Monday.” He paused; the moment of silence that ensued was nothing short of eerie. His deliberate words shook many a student to their very core… “Be forewarned… if MACUSA catches wind of any unauthorized magic outside of school premises, you can expect to pay the Headmaster a little visit upon your return.”

Once they had finished their breakfasts, Harry and Othniel handed their wands to Professor Frye at the faculty table. She smiled warmly at the boys and wished each of them a happy Thanksgiving, and told them to return to their table as one of the Horned Serpent trustees will provide further instructions closer to nine.

Before Harry could sit down, he felt a bear hug around his chest so tight that it left him gasping for air. He whirled around to see the smiling face of Ana. “Happy Thanksgiving, Harry,” she chirped. “I’m sorry I won’t get a chance to talk to you while you’re gone, but I promise I’ll give you my number before Christmas. I hope you have a great time with your family in Vancouver… and try to keep Othniel in line!”

Othniel gave Ana a dirty look, but she just giggled and gave him a hug, though much gentler than the one she gave Harry. “I’m just messin’ with you, goofball,” she said, tousling his hair.

“I’m going to miss you too, Ana,” replied Harry. “I guess I can understand why you want to stay at the castle for Thanksgiving, but I can’t help but feel a little bad for you… it’s going to be awful lonely.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ana assured Harry. “I won’t be lonely or bored as I have a lot to prepare for… the last Quiz Bowl was a very close call, and I really want to compete at Hogwarts in the spring… it’d be a dream come true! If we win next month’s competition, we can all but put the Quiz Bowl Cup out of reach for the next closest house!”

Harry smiled broadly. “You’ve shown you’re just as capable as an upperclassman in the two games you’ve competed in so far. I really hope the Horned Serpents win the Quiz Bowl Cup and you get to represent our school in Scotland. I wish I can go with you… it’s where my family’s gone, after all.”

“I wish you could go too,” admitted Ana. “Maybe you’ll get the chance someday.” She looked at her wristwatch. “Wow, it’s ten ‘til nine! I’m guessing Missy or one of the other trustees will be rounding everyone up in just a couple of minutes… I don’t want to hold you up! I just wanted to wish you a safe and happy Thanksgiving!” She then left the boys to finish saying goodbye to some of her other friends before they left.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” replied Harry and Othniel.

Just a couple of minutes later, the magically-amplified voice of Missy pierced the din. “Listen up, Horned Serpents! If you’re leaving the castle for Thanksgiving, then you’ll need to listen for your year to be called. Carriages will be waiting outside to take you to the NAMURS station, where you will take one of six trains home. The six lines each have a unique terminus – the Chinook goes to Seattle, the Haboob goes to Los Angeles, the Zephyr goes to Chicago, the Tornado goes to Dallas, the Derecho goes to Atlanta and the Hurricane goes to Boston.” She shook her head and let out a bit of a sigh. “You should already know which train to take, but if you’re unsure, just ask any of the NAMURS conductors.”

She then proceeded to call out for seventh-year students, and sent them out of the mess hall in small groups. She went down the list and about fifteen minutes later, she finally yelled out, “First years!” Harry and Othniel rushed toward Missy, along with the other first-year Horned Serpents. “Follow me to the Chamber of Reception; a few carriages will be waiting just outside the castle.”

“Wait for meeeeeeeee,” came a familiar Southern-tinged squeak. Harry and Othniel stopped in their tracks and turned around, seeing a red-faced Tallulah hurry toward them, with Gallifrey in her arms. The boys did their best not to laugh, but neither of them could suppress silly grins.

“You gotta do something about that cat,” remarked Othniel. “At this rate, you won’t have any clothes by the end of term!”

“I wouldn’t have him any other way,” retorted Tallulah. “He can be a stinker sometimes, but I can’t fall asleep without him!”

Othniel bit his lip. “Between your bags and your cat, it looks like you’ve got your hands full. Would you like me to hold your backpack, at least until we get to the train station?”

Tallulah giggled. “You’re starting to turn into a real gentleman, Othniel Beckett. Thank you!” She lifted an arm, and let Othniel help her remove her backpack. He grunted at the additional weight – it was certainly heavier than it looked upon first glance.

The first-year students followed Missy to the Reception Chamber – it was a much quicker hike than expected as she led them through several shortcuts. She gestured toward the large wooden double-door which marked the entrance to the castle. “No more than four to a carriage,” she advised. “And don’t get too comfortable; it’s only about a ten minute ride to the station at the bottom of the mountain. You may hand your belongings to a NAMURS staff member once you reach the station; they’ll stow it for you until you’re ready to disembark at your final destination. That’s all I have, and may each of you have a pleasant Thanksgiving break!”

Just a couple of minutes later, the three children clambered inside one of the empty carriages. They had to have been enchanted, they thought, as there were no steeds to pull them. Harry held Gallifrey while Othniel helped Tallulah inside the carriage. Maybe a minute or two after the children got settled in, they felt the carriage take off and descend the mountain. Just as Missy said, the ride wasn’t very long – ten minutes at the most – and before they knew it, the carriage had come to a complete halt inside the tunnel.

“I don’t know how we ended up underground,” murmured Othniel as he exited the carriage, “but I guess I’m probably better off not knowing.”

“Magic,” replied Harry and Tallulah with a laugh.

“Well, yeah, I kinda knew that much already,” sighed Othniel.

“So, which train are y’all taking again?” asked Tallulah. “I’m taking the Derecho to Atlanta. My parents live just an hour and a half away, so it’s not a super-long drive home.”

“We’ll be riding the Chinook,” replied Harry. “Vancouver is about a three or four hour drive from Seattle, depending on traffic.”

Othniel grimaced. “Three or four hours isn’t bad, since it’s six hours from Seattle to Bend Oregon. And another eight-plus hours to Superior, Montana, where my grandparents live… I don’t want to spend my entire week on the road.”

“I can see why you’d want to spend Thanksgiving with Harry,” reasoned Tallulah. She then gave each of the boys a quick goodbye hug before turning to find the Derecho. “Y’all enjoy your week off! I’ll try to call you in a couple of days – will that work?”

“That sounds wonderful,” replied Harry. “I can’t wait to hear from you. I hope you have a great time with your family back home.”

Chapter 43: Reconnecting

Chapter Text

The train ride back to Seattle went much like it did at the tail end of August – there wasn’t much scenery since the Chinook line was almost entirely underground, but between conversations with the other passengers and playing enchanted versions of non-magical games, the time did pass rather quickly. Harry and Othniel whiled away their time playing several rounds of Egyptian Rat Screw with some of the other students, namely the quidditch equipment manager of the Horned Serpent team, Rickey Mathis.

“Potter! Beckett!” Rickey greeted the younger boys as they entered the lounge car after lunch on the first leg of the journey. “It’s been a while. How ya doin?”

“Not bad, Ric,” replied Harry as he shook Rickey’s hand. “Othniel and I are looking forward to spending a few days back home with my relatives in the Vancouver area. What’s new with you?”

Rickey grinned broadly. “Just chilling on cloud nine – it’s not every day the Horned Serpents are at the top of the standings in both quidditch and the Quiz Bowl!” Several of their housemates let out a prideful whooooop! in response. “You’re lucky Vancouver isn’t all that far from Seattle… my folks live in San Francisco. That’s… a jaunt.”

Harry and Othniel both winced. “I hope you’ve got a plane ticket or something because had I not taken Harry up on his offer, I’d first have to travel to Bend Oregon to get my brother and sister, and then we’ll be on the road for a good eight hours to get to western Montana to visit my grandparents,” groaned Othniel.

Rickey smiled knowingly. “I wouldn’t be going back if I was going to be on the ground the entire way.”

Harry scrunched his face. “Wait… couldn’t you just take the train to Boston, and then fly from Logan International to San Francisco? I mean, that would be a fair bit faster…”

“I agree completely,” replied Rickey. “But a non-stop ticket from Boston to San Francisco isn’t exactly cheap, you see. It’s a lot less expensive to fly from Seattle to San Francisco, and the train ride doesn’t cost me anything. Besides, it’s an opportunity to spend a little extra time with some of my housemates.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Harry said with a nod. “Say, aren’t you in Nova Woodward’s year? She’s supposed to be traveling back on this train, is she not?”

“She is,” confirmed Rickey. “But why would she be on the Chinook? She usually stays at the castle, or returns to Great Britain for the holidays…”

Harry sighed. “She’s… my foster sister. I invited her to spend Thanksgiving with me.”

“She’s rather quiet, but a nice girl,” Rickey admitted. “Solid chaser too. I’d have to imagine she’d crack the starting lineup next term, but this year there’s just a logjam of upperclassmen in front of her so she’s still a reserve.” He shrugged. “If you’re looking for her, I haven’t seen her yet. I’m guessing she’s still in her compartment.”

“Are we allowed to visit students from other years in their cars?” asked Harry. “I don’t think anyone told us we couldn’t…”

“I guess,” replied Rickey with uncertainty in his voice. “But perhaps there’s a reason she’s still in her compartment… she might not want to be bothered by anyone right now.”

Harry didn’t look deterred. “I’ll take that chance.”

Rickey threw his hands up in the air. “All right, but don’t blame me if she’s less than receptive, Potter.”

About twenty minutes later, Othniel excused himself to take a nap in his compartment. Harry, meanwhile, went to look for Nova. He calculated that the third-year students must be two cars ahead of the first years, so he counted backwards as he left the leisure car. When he entered what he thought was the third-year car, he began knocking on several compartments in an attempt to locate his friend. A couple of minutes later, Harry heard someone clear their throat loudly. He whirled around and saw a tall, thin middle-aged witch with a bouffaint dark red hairdo. “Can I help you, young man?”

Harry looked around nervously. “Erm, I’m trying to find my foster sister, Nova Woodward. I thought she’d be in this car…”

“You should have found me first,” sighed the witch. “No sense disturbing everyone in this car when I could have directed you from the get-go!” She then pointed with her hand. “Fourth from last door, on the right.”

Harry breathed a quick ‘thanks’ to the witch, who nodded curtly in return. Harry made his way toward the other side of the car; once he was sure he had located Nova’s compartment, he rapped on the door. A few seconds later, it slid open, revealing a familiar blonde-haired girl – her hair was down, and her glasses were in her shirt pocket rather than on her face. Her eyes were dark and baggy – Harry got the feeling that she hadn’t been sleeping very well lately. She yawned, then offered Harry a small smile. “Hey there, Harry,” she murmured, smacking her lips a couple of times. “I’m surprised you came looking for me. How’re you?”

“I’m all right, I s’pose,” replied Harry. “You look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”

Nova smiled again. “You have no idea.” She waved her head back toward her compartment. “You better come in and make yourself comfortable.” Harry followed her inside the compartment without any ado.

“So, is it just you in here?” asked Harry. “This is your first time taking the Chinook, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I have the compartment to myself,” Nova confirmed. “And yes, this is my first time. Usually I take the Hurricane to Boston, and take one of those infernal Muggle 747s across the Atlantic.”

Harry nodded. He knew that he had also traveled from Great Britain to North America when he was a child, but if he had a frame of reference, he couldn’t remember it. “So, how are you feeling? Y’know, seeing your parents for the first time in ages?”

“It’s a lot, Harry,” sighed Nova. “It’s a lot for me take in. I have so many questions, you know? And I’m sure they have questions for me… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to it more than anything in the world, but…” She sniffled, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit of an ooey-gooey mess, Harry,” she sobbed.

Instinctively, Harry reached out with his hands to comfort Nova, but he jerked them back just as quickly. He looked at Nova in her eyes, and slowly began reaching out again. “May I?” he offered in a soft voice. Through her tears, Nova forced a smile, and nodded once. Harry then wrapped his arms around Nova’s back, and just let her sob on his shoulders.

Neither Harry nor Nova said a word for several minutes, so Harry broke the silence.

“I wonder if Remus can provide you with another sleeping potion when we get to British Columbia,” Harry wondered aloud. “Speak of the dragon, where is he?”

“He’s probably toward the front of the train,” guessed Nova. “They keep faculty sequestered from students as Ilvermorny frowns on fraternization. If we’re lucky, we might see him in the dining car, but even then we won’t be able to share a table with him. We won’t get to actually catch up until after we disembark.”

“Ahh,” replied Harry with a nod.

Nova sighed. “And you’re right, I haven’t been sleeping well the past few days… I just have a lot on my mind… a sleeping potion would be lovely.” Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Between Professor Lupin, your godfather, and your uncle… my father… I’d reckon at least one of them can hook me up.”

***

When the Chinook finally screeched to a halt at the University Street Station in Seattle the following Monday morning, Harry and Othniel wasted no time gathering their things and clambering out of the train. While they were responsible for their belongings, they were both grateful they didn’t have to wait for their year to be called. Harry led Othniel through the throngs of people, hoping to locate Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda, but had no luck finding them. Harry let out a frustrated groan, when Othniel’s ears perked up. He tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Harry! Harry! I think I hear your aunt and uncle calling for you!”

Harry turned toward Othniel. “Where?” he asked. Othniel pointed over Harry’s shoulder, in a one o’clock position. Harry nodded, and followed Othniel toward the source of the calls. The calls for Harry and Othniel grew louder and louder as the boys continued making their way through the masses.

“Oh, there you are Harry,” exclaimed Roger as he wrapped the lad up in a strong hug. He tilted his head. “They must be feeding you well at Ilvermorny; looks like you might have grown half an inch since the last time we saw you!” He then extended his hand toward Othniel. “And you must be Harry’s friend Othniel. I’m his uncle, Roger Woodward. How’re you doing?”

Othniel shook Roger’s hand. “All right, I suppose. And thank you for having me over – it was very generous of Harry to invite me.”

“It’s our pleasure, young man,” replied Roger. Meanwhile, Rhonda wrapped Harry up in a heartfelt embrace before introducing herself to Othniel.

Harry turned to Roger. “I guess we’re just waiting on Nova and Remus… err, Professor Lupin then?”

Roger chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll have to be so formal when he’s around us. I’m sure he appreciates the respect but he’s practically family to us.” He then chuckled softly. “I hope our little jalopy can handle three trolleys’ worth of luggage!”

Harry titled his head. “What about Remus? Is he coming back with us?”

Roger shook his head and smiled. “He’ll be riding back with Sirius on that crazy motorcycle of his. Flying it is one thing, but knowing how Sirius rides it… keeping it on the ground’s suicide!” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about them, Hare. You’ll see them back in Surrey soon enough.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a high-pitched cry from just outside the train. “Mum? Daddy?”

Rhonda swiveled around to see a blonde rocket hurtling toward her with reckless abandon. As soon as Nova parked her trolley, she clung on to her birth mother as if she’d never let go again, tears streaming down her cheeks. Rhonda couldn’t help but let some tears flow herself as she stroked Nova’s dishwater blonde hair. “I never thought I’d see you again, baby,” she cooed. “I love you, Nova. I’ve missed you more than words can say. I haven’t been this happy in fourteen years.”

A few minutes later, Roger embraced his daughter tenderly. “Welcome home, princess,” he whispered into her ear. “Your mother and I have adored you since the day you were born. Our aching hearts have been longing for this day... our family finally feels complete.” He kissed his daughter tenderly on the forehead. “You were but an infant when we lost you… and now I see a lovely young witch before me. I’m very proud of you.”

The normally stoic Roger began to break down. “Please forgive us, Anneliese,” he managed through his sobs. “Not a day has gone by without us thinking about you… it’s true that your mother and I were young and naïve and may not have been fully prepared for parenthood, but along with Harry, you are the greatest blessing we could have ever asked for.”

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Nova whispered back tearfully. “My grandparents… your parents… aren’t perfect, and I don’t agree with a lot of their politics, but I still had a happy childhood. I’m sorry you and Mum weren’t there – I know you would have given anything to watch my dance and piano recitals… see me off on my first day of wizarding school… watch my first quidditch match…” She sighed. “I don’t want you to beat yourselves up over it. That’s the past. What’s important is that I’m here, right now.” She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her blouse. “I brought some photos,” she said with a giggle. “We have so much catching up to do.”

Roger smiled at his daughter. “Indeed we do. We have a few photos of our own we’d like to show you when we get back.” He pointed at her trolley. “Why don’t you get your things? I’m sure the boys’ll be glad to help you load them in the back of Mum’s car.”

Once all three children’s belongings were stowed away in the trunk, Harry, Othniel and the Woodwards started making their way back to the greater Vancouver area. Once they left Seattle, the traffic was surprisingly cooperative; they pulled into their driveway on Skylark Place around two o’clock. The first thing Harry did was let Hedwig out of her cage – the poor owl had been cooped up in the train for two days and Harry could tell that his avian companion was getting restless. Hedwig hooted with delight as soon as the hatch was opened, and fluttered away looking for some tasty morsels in the vicinity.

Othniel followed Harry upstairs to his room, where the boys got to unpacking; meanwhile Nova got settled in the guest bedroom across from Harry’s room. At about three o’clock, Rhonda knocked on Nova’s door. “Nova dear, would you care to join me downstairs for some tea and biscuits?”

Nova creaked the door open. “That’d be delightful,” she murmured. “Let me freshen up a tic and I’ll be right down.”

“Sounds good, love,” purred Rhonda.

Rhonda made her way downstairs, then poured two cups of piping-hot chai, and offered one to Nova once she found her way to the kitchen. “Here you are, love,” Rhonda said softly.

“Thank you, Mum,” Nova replied. “It’s a little weird calling you Mum… it’s going to take some time getting used to this.”

“Truth be told,” sighed Rhonda, “I wasn’t sure if you were even interested in wanting to meet us. Your father and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you still feel angry or resentful…”

Nova shook her head and smiled sweetly. “It’s okay, Mum,” she said before taking a careful sip of her hot tea. “I mean, when I first found out that I qualified to study magic, a lot went through my head it was at that point I found out that the people that raised me were actually my grandparents, so who were my real parents? Why were my grandparents so ashamed of them, and the people they associated with? They espoused this rubbish against Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards… I always knew it to be wrong but I would never dare tell my grandparents how I really felt…”

Rhonda gently took Nova’s hand. “You’re free to be yourself here, darling. Your father also disagreed with your grandparents’ prejudices… his views fell in line with Sirius, Remus, and Harry’s parents… and even though I never had their gifts, the lot of them always made me feel included. Not a single one of them was ashamed to be my friend, just as I was not ashamed to be theirs. Prejudice goes both ways, you know. Non-magical people have treated witches and wizards cruelly for centuries, so it’s not like it’s a one-way street.”

Nova nodded. “When I first saw Harry Potter, I honestly didn’t know what to think. I mean, part of me was in utter shock that the Boy-Who-Live decided to attend Ilvermorny to begin his magical journey rather than the expected Hogwarts. He’s a rock star in the magical world, after all. But he’s also the boy that my actual parents raised, so I hope you can’t fault me for feeling rather envious or resentful.”

For the first time that afternoon, Nova offered a natural, genuine smile. “It took us a few weeks to warm up to each other, you see. I was very insecure at first, as I just wasn’t ready for friendship with him.” Her smile broadened. “After the ice was broken, I soon discovered he’s not at all like the celebrity I imagined him to be. He’s humble, he works hard, and he’s utterly devoted to his friends… friends like me. It’s a privilege to be his foster sister.”

She paused to take another sip of her tea. “More than anything, my heart breaks for him because of what happened to his birth parents. He speaks so fondly of you, that I couldn’t help but let my curiosity get the better of me. I had to see my birth parents at least once before my childhood’s gone forever… and so far, I’m glad I did. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to come home.”

Rhonda gently squeezed Nova’s hand. “It’s our pleasure, love. Our home is your home, even if you only choose to make it your home a few days a year.” She smiled knowingly at her daughter. “Christmas is coming up soon… is there anything you’d like?”

Nova smiled sweetly. “It’s going to be easier said than done, and I don’t expect it to happen overnight… but I want you two and my grandparents to be a family again. That doesn’t mean that you can’t disagree on some things, but I just want the guilt and shame to subside. For my sake. For Harry’s sake. Gran and Grampy are bigots, but it doesn’t mean they’re irredeemable. There’s good in them and I want you two to see it. Just like I want them to see how magical you truly are… love is the most potent magic there is, and you’re living proof.”

After mother and daughter finished their spot of tea, Rhonda began dinner preparations. “It’s just a regular dinner tonight – not Thanksgiving – but Remus and Sirius will be over in a couple of hours to join us. Why don’t you bring some of those photos down after dinner and show us what we missed out on? We’ll have a few of our own that we’d like to show you and the boys, if you’re okay with that.”

“Can’t wait, Mum,” replied Nova as she made her way upstairs.

Chapter 44: A Moment to Relax

Chapter Text

At around four that afternoon, Rhonda busied herself in the kitchen by stirring some homemade pasta sauce when she heard the phone ring from the opposite side of the room. She hurried over to pick up the receiver, ensuring she kept at least one eye on the spaghetti. It was moments like these that she was grateful for the cordless phone they had just gotten earlier that year.

“Hello?” she answered in a polite tone. “This is Rhonda speaking; may I help you?”

She wasn’t fully prepared for the response she got on the other end – an unfamiliar Southern-tinged drawl from a young girl, perhaps around Harry’s age, she figured. “Um, hi there, Miss Rhonda,” the girl replied, somewhat nervously. “My name is Tallulah Slater. I’d like to speak with Harry for a spell if that’s okay with you.”

Rhonda couldn’t help but smile. “Well hello there, Tallulah. I take it you’re one of Harry’s classmates at his new school?”

“I am, ma’am,” confirmed Tallulah. “We’re in the same house and year, actually. Same with Othniel.” She twirled her phone cord around her finger. “Anyway, I was wonderin’, is this a good time? I know this is a long distance call and everything so I promise not to hog up ya’ll’s phone line all night.”

Rhonda took a quick glance at the oven clock. “I’m cooking dinner – it won’t be too much longer until it’s ready – but I suppose a twenty-minute call won’t hurt anything.” She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Truth be told, I would have expected another one of his classmates to call… what was her name again… Annabelle? Alexandra?”

Tallulah giggled so hard she nearly started hiccoughing. “You mean Anastasia. She’s staying at the castle for Thanksgiving – she’s a member of our house’s Quiz Bowl team and wanted to prepare for the next competition, which is in a couple of weeks, actually. If the Horned Serpents win the Quiz Bowl cup, she gets to go to Scotland to compete internationally in the spring!”

“Ah yes… Anastasia, that’s right,” chuckled Rhonda. “Yes, I remember her from Boston earlier this year. Very sweet young lady. At any rate, I’ll go and fetch Harry. He’s probably with Othniel upstairs. It’ll just be a moment…”

“Thank you, ma’am,” replied Tallulah.

Rhonda muted the receiver, and made her way upstairs to locate Harry. She rapped on Harry’s bedroom door, which was immediately followed by a frustrated groan. “Aaaugh!”

Harry opened the door a few seconds later, and noticed the rather puzzled expression on his aunt’s face. “What was that about?” she asked, referring to the disappointed-sounding growl she heard.

“Oh, that?” replied Harry. He looked over his shoulder. “I was giving Othniel some pointers for Super Mario Land on my Gameboy. I don’t think he’s played video games before…”

Rhonda nodded. “I see. Anyway, one of your schoolmates is on the phone… Tamara or Tilly or some-such…”

Harry perked up. “Oh, you mean Tallulah? I was wondering when she was going to call…”

“Yes, that’s it. The phone is off the hook on the counter next to the refrigerator,” said Rhonda. “Now try not to talk each other’s ears off… it’s long distance; besides, dinner isn’t all that far away from being ready.”

“All right, Aunt Rhonda,” Harry replied with a nod as the boys darted downstairs to the kitchen with reckless abandon. They were in such a hurry that they nearly tumbled over each other in the middle of the staircase.

When Harry picked up the phone, the first thing he heard was a series of high-pitched giggles. “Erm, hello? What’s so funny?”

“Hey there Harry,” replied Tallulah, unable to control her laughter. “Goodness gracious, even I could hear you two yahoos coming down those steps. Y’all are louder than a band of feral pigs!”

“Y-you heard that?” Harry said, rather stunned that Tallulah could hear the commotion. “I s’pose we were in such a rush that all common sense went out the window…” He cleared his throat. “So, how are you doing? I take it you got back home yesterday?”

“I got back home at around one yesterday morning,” confirmed Tallulah. “The train ride was pert’near fourteen hours long, then the ride home from the train station was about an hour.” She groaned. “I feel plumb sorry for you boys – the ride to Seattle’s well over twice as long!”

“Closer to three times,” said Harry. “Not to mention the car ride to Surrey’s a good three hours from Seattle, so I’m sure you could practically hear the sigh of relief when we finally got to our townhouse.”

Tallulah giggled. “I’ll bet. So, how’s Nova? Did she cry like a baby when she met her parents?”

Harry was unable to control his own laughter. “Hahaha, yeah. She wasn’t the only one crying though… Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda did some boo-hooing themselves.”

Tallulah let out a rather exasperated-sounding sigh. “Can you blame them? They haven’t seen each other in years, Harry. You’d be bawling like a baby if you saw your birth parents again, too…”

“I guess you’re right… and I do miss them,” Harry murmured. “I barely remember them… I’d love to have just five minutes with them to tell them how much I love and miss them… and to hear them tell me how proud they are…”

“I know you would,” replied Tallulah in an equally-soft drawl. “Look, Harry… I will never claim to have known your parents, but I know in my heart of hearts that just because they can’t be there for you physically, doesn’t mean that they aren’t there for you spiritually. They’re very proud of you; they always will be.”

“Thanks, ‘Lu,” Harry said, his lips curved upwards into a wistful smile. “I promised my aunt that I wouldn’t tie up the line forever, so I’ll have to wrap it up in a minute. Would you like to say hello to Othniel really quick before we let you go?”

“Same here,” admitted Tallulah. “It was nice catching up for a few, Harry.” She snickered to herself. “Go on, put the goober through.”

Harry covered the phone speaker with one of his hands. “Hey Othniel? Tallulah’s about to get off the phone, so if you want to talk for a minute or two, now’s your chance.” He handed the receiver to Othniel, whose face flushed deep pink. Harry smiled and shook his head at how nervously Othniel answered the phone.

As soon as Othniel got off the phone, the boys heard a sharp rapping sound at the front door. Harry’s face lit up with sheer joy when he saw the familiar faces of his godfather and Defense professor.

“Pup!” barked Sirius, who bear-hugged Harry almost instantly.

“It’s so good to see you, Padfoot,” replied Harry as he lost himself in his godfather’s embrace. “I’ve missed you… have I got some stories!”

Sirius let out a rather devilish chuckle. “I’ll bet you do, Pup. I can’t wait to hear them.”

Remus then extended his hand toward Harry, who eagerly accepted. “Your handshake’s gotten a little better since the beginning of term, Harry.”

“Thanks, Remus,” replied Harry with an abashed grin. “Why don’t you two make yourselves at home? Aunt Rhonda’s in the kitchen making dinner, which isn’t all that far from being ready. Uncle Roger’s in his study, doing Merlin-knows-what, and Nova’s been in the guest room, resting for a good chunk of the day.” He gave both men a slightly-worried glance. “I don’t think she’s been sleeping all that well lately… do either of you have a sleeping potion she can take tonight?”

Sirius and Remus briefly looked at each other, then back at Harry. Sirius shook his head ‘no’ remorsefully, while Remus looked upward in thought. “I don’t think I have any on my person, but Sirius says Vancouver has a wizarding district not far from his pad.”

“It’s not as extensive as Diagon Alley, or even Nessel Road, but I’m sure we can find a sleeping potion for her there… or at the very least, purchase the ingredients to concoct one,” added Sirius. “If she’s willing to wait a day or so, I think we can help her out there.”

“She may need to use no-maj medication this evening, like melatonin,” suggested Remus. “It’s not as potent as a sleeping draught, but it should help some.”

Sirius clapped a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Hahaha. I see you’re getting accustomed to North American wizarding slang, Moony.”

“It’s… been growing on me,” admitted Remus with a shrug. “There are some mild cultural differences between Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, but the kids at both schools have the same desire to make friends, sneak out past curfew, and pull pranks.” He winked at Harry. “Ilvermorny has become a home away from home, so to speak.”

Harry led the former Marauders into the living room, and assured them that Roger would be joining them momentarily. He then went to the kitchen to look for Rhonda, promptly telling her that Sirius and Remus were waiting in the living room. She smiled at Harry. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, why don’t you go fetch your uncle?”

***

Dinner was beginning to wind down about an hour later. Harry nodded toward Othniel, acknowledging his improved table manners. “Too bad Tallulah wasn’t here,” he told his friend softly. “You’ve come a long way in the past few weeks.”

Othniel just grinned at Harry. “You haven’t seen anything yet, dude.” He cleared his throat before addressing Rhonda. “Erm, d’you need a hand with the dishes or anything, Miz Woodward?”

Rhonda smiled at Othniel. “That’s very sweet of you to offer, Othniel. Why don’t you gather all the silverware, dishes, and plates, and set them next to the sink? Some of them will need to be hand-washed, and some can go in the dishwasher – I’ll handle that. And maybe you could wipe down the table when you’re done?” She turned toward Harry. “And could you be a dear and vacuum the dining room for me? And in about a half hour, we could all meet up in the living room and go through those photo albums?”

Harry nodded. “That’s fine, Aunt Rhonda.”

Harry gently elbowed Othniel in the ribs as they got up from their seats. “Tallulah wouldn’t believe this if she saw it with her own eyes, man.”

“She might not believe you two gits, but she’d definitely take my word,” piped in a snarky contralto. Harry and Othniel spun around to see Nova covering a grin with her hand. “Keep that up, Beckett, and you could make Miss Slater a very happy witch someday.”

BUUUUUUURRRP!

Othniel’s cheeks turned a bright scarlet. “’Scuse me.”

Nova rolled her eyes. “Or maybe not.” She sighed. “Speaking about embarrassing oneself, I’ll be going upstairs to fetch my photo album. See you two Neanderthals later.”

Harry shook his head at Othniel, his face rife with disapproval. Othniel could only shrug in response. “Well, I s’pose we better tackle the dining room. Shouldn’t take too long between the two of us…” He began stacking dishes and silverware, while Harry went to look for the vacuum cleaner. When the boys had finished tidying up the dining room, they plopped themselves down in the living room.

Roger, Sirius, and Remus were conversing amongst themselves – the three men momentarily looked several years younger, laughing as they reminisced about their Hogwarts days. It was evident to Harry that getting together like this did them some good – though there were a few quieter moments whenever James or Lily were brought up.

“When the girls have gone upstairs to bed, Pup, we’d like for you to stay here a little while longer,” Sirius said.

Harry nodded. “That’s fine… I remember Uncle Roger promising me that the three of you have some sort of story for me.”

“That’s right, Hare,” confirmed Roger. He gestured toward Othniel. “Now Othniel, when the ladies retire for the evening, I’ll need you to head up to Harry’s room… this story is going to be rather personal in nature. I hope you understand.”

“Okeydokey,” replied Othniel.

Right on cue, Nova entered the living room, photo album in hand. She plopped herself in the middle of a three-seat couch. She batted her eyes at Roger. “Come, sit next to me, Daddy.”

“Very well, princess,” Roger chuckled as he got up, then seated himself on Nova’s right. “Now, your mum should be nearly finished by now, I’d imagine…”

They didn’t have long to wait. Rhonda tried to apologize for being late as she sat on Nova’s other side, but everyone assured her that she was fine, and that she hadn’t missed anything important. Like Nova, she had a photo album in her hands, but it was somewhat smaller and less ornate than Nova’s.

“Oh, before we start, I suppose I should make a formal introduction,” Sirius offered. He approached Nova and held out his hand. “Sirius Black. Your father and got our kicks in at Hogwarts quite a few years ago, as did your Defense professor, Remus.” He winked at the child. “You’ve got your mum’s eyes, and your father’s chin.”

“It’s a pleasure, sir,” Nova giggled as she took his hand. “My grandparents would get into a tizzy if they knew you were here… but Harry’s told me wonderful things about you.”

Sirius shook his head and laughed. “Yes… suffice to say, Cotton and Giacintha Woodward aren’t exactly my biggest fans. In fact, your grandfather and my old man were friends back in the day; they played Wizard’s Whist on occasion with some of the other stuck-up pureblooded patriarchs…”

“But didn’t your father technically marry a halfblood?” Remus asked Roger. “I mean, that wasn’t as blasphemous as marrying a Muggle-born, but I’d imagine it have raised some eyebrows.”

Roger bowed his head. “It’s true, my mother had a Muggle-born ancestor so she's officially a half-blood, but the Cherrywines were a well-to-do family that still looked down on Muggle-borns; not to mention they did go to lengths to conceal their not completely-pure lineage. That being said, some pureblood families aren't necessarily opposed to having one of their younger children marrying an influential half-blood whose views on Muggles and Muggle-borns aligned with their own. Of course, Uncle Jethro - my father's eldest brother - was obligated to marry an unquestionably-pureblooded witch. Aunt Camille of the Greengrass family." He turned toward his daughter and smiled. “I’m sorry for stealing your moment, Nova love. We’d be delighted to see those wonderful pictures of yours.”

Nova cracked open her brown photo album, and proudly showed everyone in the room the many moving photos of the many events of her childhood. The very first pictures were her babbling as a baby, followed by her taking her very first steps. Then there were the photos of her as a four or five-year old girl in ballet slippers, and photos of her at about seven doing a tap dancing solo and practicing on the piano. Then there was the picture of her getting fitted for her uniforms at Madam Forbush’s, and then Nova in her formal robes as she was set to depart for Ilvermorny for the very first time. The last few pages were ones Harry and Othniel couldn’t help but smile at – pictures of Nova on her broom during quidditch practice, and what appeared to be a group photo of Horned Serpent girls from last year.

Harry looked at the last photo with keen interest. There was a familiar-looking girl with shoulder-length wavy russet hair and glasses. He cleared his throat. “Was that Ana last year?” he asked Nova, pointing at the girl in the photo.

Nova simply giggled. “Your powers of observation do you credit, Harry.” She hummed to herself. “She was a cute little firstie, wasn’t she?”

“Oh, so you know Anastasia?” Sirius asked Nova. “I remember her from Nessel Road this past summer. Very nice girl.”

Nova smiled and nodded. “She’s crazy-smart, too. She made the Horned Serpent Quiz Bowl team as a starter. That’s practically unheard of, as far as second-year students go. There’s a very good chance she’ll get to go to Hogwarts in the spring to compete.” She tilted her head. "Oh, by the way, Daddy. You mentioned the Greengrass family a few minutes ago, right? Ana has a pen pal from Hogwarts named Daphne Greengrass. I think she's a firstie there."

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. "I'll bet Ana was in for a rude awakening when she got a reply... that is, if she got a reply. The House of Greengrass doesn't actually condone dark magic, but they're quite possibly the snootiest house in Wizarding Britain..."

Nova giggled as she shook her head. "Not at all... I've caught a glimpse of one of the letters Daphne sent Ana. She seems very sweet and down-to-earth. She asked lots of innocent questions - she was genuinely curious of Ana's non-magical upbringing. Nothing like a typical haughty Slytherin heiress, because she's not..."

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius, his lip twisting in confusion.

"I saw her photo... her uniform clearly shows she got sorted in Gryffindor," replied Nova with a bright smile. "She's a very cute girl, too."

Sirius chuckled. "Well, I'll be. A Greengrass in Gryffindor. That's nearly as far-fetched as a Black in Gryffindor!"

"Well, all things considered, you've turned out all right," chimed in Roger. "Oh, and Rhonda, darling? I'm guessing the kiddos would like to see how we looked when we were younger. These photos aren't enchanted, so don't be alarmed if they look a little different than the ones in Nova's album."

Rhonda then opened her photo album. It appeared to be even older than Nova’s – it was plain black and had a thin layer of dust on it – and as Roger alluded, hers only had simple, still photographs. Even the most recent photographs were a decade old, so there was a distinct graininess to them; not to mention, the colors weren't very vibrant. Most of them were from when she and Roger were dating, but some of them included group shots of the old Hogwarts crew, and others were wedding photos.

When they had finished going through all the photos, Rhonda took a look at the grandfather clock – it was nearly nine in the evening. She let out a yawn, and politely excused herself to her bedroom. When Rhonda was no longer within earshot, Nova approached Remus and Sirius. “Do either of you have a sleeping potion I could take tonight? Harry says that you might be able to help me – it’s been a dreadful week for me.”

“You’ll need to take some of that Muggle melatonin tonight,” sighed Remus. He then grinned at Nova. “That said, Sirius says that there’s a wizarding district in the Vancouver area. We should be able to have one for you by this time tomorrow if you still need one.”

Nova’s face brightened. “That’d be wonderful. Thank you.” She gave Sirius and Remus quick hugs, and gave her father a little peck on the cheek before excusing herself for the evening.

Othniel then sighed. “I s’pose that’s my cue. I’ll see you upstairs in a few, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “See you in a few."

Chapter 45: The Explanation

Chapter Text

As soon as he heard Othniel shut the bedroom door upstairs, Harry immediately began to feel the tension build up in the living room. He looked at the three other faces in the room – judging by their somber expressions, whatever they were about to tell him wasn’t going to be easy for him to listen to. Sirius started off by telling Harry the story of how he, Remus, Roger, and his parents all met at Hogwarts two decades ago. Remus and Roger chimed in with a few amusing anecdotes to somewhat lighten the mood, but then all three wizards’ faces darkened as they were all clearly reluctant to tell Harry about the horrors of the wizarding war they all took part in.

They assured Harry that his parents’ deaths were not in vain; they were heroes that sacrificed themselves not only for their cause, but to ensure his survival. Lily’s love for Harry was so great that not even the darkest of sorcerers could penetrate the enchantment she placed on her son. Despite his humiliating defeat, Voldemort was not truly destroyed as he had the cunning and foresight to place pieces of his black soul into objects known as horcruxes. These devices were considered to be the paramount power of dark magic, which would effectively render the creator immortal. As long as at least one horcrux endures, so would the sorcerer’s spirit, should his or her body be destroyed physically. Only by destroying these unholy artifacts could Voldemort’s spirit truly be vulnerable; the act of destroying these artifacts was far easier said than done.

Awestruck, Harry’s eyes widened at this revelation. He didn’t fully understand everything the adults told him, but he was more than clever enough to get the gist of it. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. For the first time since Sirius started the story, Harry spoke up, his voice trembling. “What about… what about the Orb of Exuberance? Can that destroy Voldemort, horcruxes or not?”

Remus’ countenance remained impassive, but Sirius and Roger looked at each other with shocked expressions. Slowly, Roger turned toward Harry. “How in the world did you even hear about such an infernal object, Hare? Surely you know it’s just a North American myth?”

Harry sighed. “It’s not a myth, Uncle Roger. It’s very, very real. The wizard who gave me my wand… Elder Gomer… he told me about it, and how powerful it is…”

“I’m afraid Harry’s right, Roger,” added Remus. “The Orb of Exuberance is not only real, but it’s hidden away somewhere beneath the castle.” He clasped his hands and shook his head solemnly. “The Elder Gomer’s sanctuary was in the castle basem*nt. He had to be in close proximity for it to drive him to madness. As a matter of fact, several weeks ago, he committed suicide shortly after the Orb’s power compelled him to take the life of a student. It’s particularly perplexing because there is no known record of faculty murdering students prior to that particular event, so whatever caused the Orb to awaken from its hibernation must have done so quite recently…”

He turned to Harry. “Yes, the Orb’s powerful enough to bypass the Dark Lord’s horcruxes and destroy him forever, but to use the Orb is to damn your very soul. I remember those nightmares you’ve told me… they very well could be visions; glimpses into your future should you tread the path of darkness.”

Harry nodded. “I know I’ll need help, but I just want to make sure the Orb is destroyed. All I know is that it’s a weapon that should neither be used by the light nor dark.”

“It won’t be easy,” sighed Remus. “It’s going to require an exceptionally skilled mage to do so. It’s possible Professor Fontaine has the capability, but if I had to place my faith in a single wizard, it’d have to be Albus Dumbledore.”

“How did you come to know of the existence of the Orb, Remus?” asked Sirius. “I mean, we’ve heard stories as kids, but that’s all they were, stories.”

“Truth be told… for the longest time, I didn’t,” admitted Remus. “You’re right, we all grew up hearing tall tales where fact and fiction might have been intertwined. “Several months ago, when I came to Ilvermorny to interview for the Defense teaching position, I spent some time acquainting myself with the castle and its history. I was interviewing at Ilvermorny and not Hogwarts, after all, so I didn’t want to give myself the excuse for not having at least some familiarity with the school and its history, just because I received my magical education elsewhere.”

His face lit up with pride. “In the seven days I spent in Massachusetts, I’ve spent many hours devouring volume after volume in their library – which certainly rivals the one Hogwarts has – and traversed miles and miles of castle hallways.” He winked at Harry. “I was a Marauder, so I figured that would work to my advantage as I do need to stay at least a half-step ahead of the sneakier students…”

“But that doesn’t really tell us why you think it exists, Moony,” Sirius drawled.

Remus let out an impatient groan. “I’m getting there. Anyway, the Headmaster invited me to his office for tea on the seventh and last day of my excursion. He wanted to personally offer me the position, which I of course accepted. Words cannot fully express how grateful I am to Professor Fontaine, as he gave me a chance that few others would. I’ve regained my sense of worth, my sense of purpose.”

A brief period of silence ensued. “There was a certain item on one of his shelves that grabbed my attention… it looked like an arrowhead of sorts. Fontaine explained that was no mere historical artifact – it was the very arrowhead that pierced the black heart of the dark witch Gormlaith Gaunt. He attested that every legend attributed to her was true… including the existence over the very Orb itself.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “Does Fontaine know of your… condition?”

“He does,” confirmed Remus. “I felt like I had nothing to lose, so I figured that I was up-front and honest with him, then he’d do the same with me. He also promised me that he’d keep my condition very much need-to-know. To my knowledge, only he, the Deputy Headmistress, and their Potions Master, Madam Lewandowski are aware.”

“Don’t forget Ana,” chimed in Harry. “She figured it out on her own.”

Remus chuckled. “She’s unusually bright, but perhaps not the most shrewd. She took a bit of a chance sharing her findings with you three rapscallions.”

“We also promised not to tell anyone,” said Harry. “And we haven’t, except for you. And we’re going to keep it that way.”

“I’m glad to know that you take your promises seriously,” agreed Remus, “but sometimes, those you think you count as friends can one day stab you in the back. You can never be too careful.” He shook his head at Roger and Sirius, as all three of them knew the feeling all-too-well.

“Speaking of, we probably should get on with our story,” said Sirius. He backtracked a little bit, and told Harry about his falling-out with his family as he never bought into their blood-supremacist ways. Although his immediate family was officially neutral in the war, they certainly favored Voldemort’s side as they shared the same anti-Muggle and Muggle-born views. In heart of hearts, he always respected his father and loved his mother, even though he vehemently disagreed with their ideals.

As his mother passed away about a year before he was released from Azkaban, he admitted that one of his biggest regrets was not being able to tell his mother that he loved her, and that he was sorry for breaking her heart. That wasn’t to be mistaken as an apology for joining the Order of the Phoenix, but he could freely admit that his reasons for joining had nothing to do with her.

He finally told the story about what happened at Godric’s Hollow – how Peter Pettigrew sold out to Voldemort and framed him for the death of twelve Muggles, plus his own supposed demise. Sirius was thrown into Azkaban without a trial, one that took over four years to materialize.

“You seem to be doing well for yourself, despite being disinherited,” remarked Remus.

“It’s a complicated story,” grumbled Sirius. “Disinheritance is more ceremonial than anything. I was able to navigate some loopholes, you see. Not only was I able to transfer quite a few galleons to an account in Canada, but I also managed to liquidate some… undesirable assets.”

“You mean, 12 Grimmauld Place?” asked Roger.

“That dump is no longer my concern, mate,” replied Sirius with a laugh. “It’s kind of an eyesore if you ask me; I never had much of an emotional attachment to it.” He then turned to Harry and grinned like a Cheshire cat. “As for you, pup, I’ve gone ahead and named you sole heir of the remainder of the Black estate. There might not be quite as much as had I not been disinherited, but there’s still enough for you and your future children to live comfortably. Not that you’ll likely need it, of course.”

“Wow, thanks Padfoot,” replied a stunned Harry.

Sirius chuckled. “Don’t mention it, Harry. As I have no offspring – at least that I know of – it’s only fitting that my godson should be the rightful heir.”

It was then Roger’s turn to detail his own falling-out with his family, and his decision to leave Britain in the middle of a wizarding war. He admitted he felt guilty and ashamed for turning his back on his friends in the middle of a war, but both he and Rhonda desperately wanted a fresh start after grappling with the pain of having lost custody of their daughter; not to mention neither one of them were on particularly good terms with their respective families. With heavy hearts, the two fled to western Canada and vowed never to return to Great Britain.

Less than a year before Lily and James Potter’s deaths, Roger learned of an opening at Ilvermorny – a teaching position for Defense Against the Dark Arts for the upcoming term. It was a calculated risk for the young couple –– but only Merlin knew how long it would have been for the next opportunity to arrive.

He then went on about how he found out about the deaths of James and Lily, and how he was tasked with raising Harry. For the boy’s safety, he agreed to voluntarily restrict his use of magic so as not to draw unwanted attention – there were no magical wards to keep the boy unharmed, and most in Magical Britain were under the impression that he never left for North America; the Dursleys’ only purpose was to serve as a decoy while Harry’s true whereabouts remained under wraps.

“I know you were already aware of some of what we told you,” Roger continued, “but now you know the whys behind them. We don’t expect all of this to make sense right now; in fact, there’s more to the story that we don’t think you’re quite ready for, but I assure you that you’ll know when the time is right.”

“You’re a special wizard, pup,” added Sirius. “All three of us would give our lives for you – no questions asked.”

“I know you would,” Harry replied softly. “And I’m grateful for all three of you.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “I do have a question, though.”

“Of course, what’s on your mind?” replied Remus.

“You three mentioned something called horcruxes that can basically make a dark wizard invincible. If we’re not meant to use the Orb to destroy this Voldemort demon, then how do we destroy the horcruxes so his spirit is destroyed forever?”

“That’s a terrific question,” murmured Sirius. “However, you’ll probably need a few more years’ of that Ilvermorny education under your belt before we can dive into that one.”

“And they don’t teach the dark arts at Ilvermorny – just how to defend against them,” replied Harry. “I don’t know how he found the knowledge to create something like that, but it sounds really dark and terrible…”

“That’s putting it mildly, Harry,” said Remus. “A terrible price must be paid to perform the vilest of black magic… either at the cost of oneself, or another. There’s a reason why light wizards and witches cannot cast dark spells nearly as effectively as dark ones – in fact, some of them cannot be cast at all!”

“Hunh,” Harry hummed. “Is dark magic… more powerful than light magic?”

“Not at all,” Sirius blurted without any hesitation. “Dark magic may seem more powerful because it can be very destructive, but an experienced wizard can repel and overcome many of the darkest curses.”

Roger looked at Harry. “I think we should end this here, Hare. It is getting rather late, after all. I hope we’ve answered at least some of your questions…”

Chapter 46: Melatonin's No Substitute For a Sleeping Draught

Chapter Text

By the time Harry cleaned up for the evening and changed into his pajamas, it was nearly ten o’clock. With a soft yawn, he crawled into his full-size bed and settled in for the night. Just as he was about to drift off, he heard a sharp psssst! from the cot on the other side of the room.

“Hey Harry… erm, how’d it go?” asked Othniel.

“Go to bed, Othniel,” Harry replied with a sleepy creak. He rolled over on his side, turning his back toward his friend.

“Sorry,” groaned Othniel. “I’m just having a hard time falling asleep is all…”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” grumbled Harry. “Go to the hall bathroom and grab a cup of water and check the medicine cabinet for some melatonin pills.” He groaned. “While you’re at it, you might want to get a couple extra for me as well.”

“Oh. So no magical ways of getting me to fall asleep I take it?” Othniel persisted.

“Not tonight at least,” replied Harry. “Sirius and Remus said they may be going to the local wizarding district tomorrow so maybe you can ask before they leave.”

“Bummer,” sighed Othniel. He got up from his cot and made his was down the hall, ostensibly to find the melatonin Harry recommended. He returned a couple of minutes later, pills in hand with a small plastic cup of tap water.

“Didja find any?” Harry asked.

Othniel stifled a yawn. “Yeah. The bottle says it may take a little while to kick in though.” He handed a pair of small, white pills to Harry. “There you go, dude.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispered as Othniel got settled back down in his cot.

“So,” continued Othniel, “if you don’t mind telling me, what all did they tell you?”

Harry sighed. “Some of the stuff they said… I’m probably not at liberty to tell anyone – at least not yet. I already knew a fair bit of the story though, from what Remus and Nova said… but it fell, well, right, coming from the mouths of Uncle Roger and Sirius.” He hummed softly. “In a nutshell, they told me a bit about the war in Magical Britain, and how I ended up in Canada.”

“Gotcha,” replied Othniel. “Do you feel satisfied at least?”

“I do,” confirmed Harry. “There’s still more to the story which they said will come another time, but considering my limited magical education so far, they didn’t want to overwhelm me… even some of the stuff they told me tonight doesn’t make a ton of sense yet.”

“That’s probably why they wanted to wait to tell you,” surmised Othniel. “We’ve only begun our magical training a few short months ago… a magical war sounds like a pretty heavy-duty topic to me.”

“No kidding,” said Harry. He was cut off by a sudden, gentle rapping on the bedroom door. “Erm, hello?”

The wooden door creaked as it slowly opened. “Hi,” came the whispered response.

“Nova?!” exclaimed Harry and Othniel.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Nova whispered. “I’m… having a hard time falling asleep – I took that bloody melatonin forty minutes ago and it’s still not kicking in yet. I hope neither of you mind if I camp out in here tonight?” She nudged Othniel with her foot. "Up you get, Beckett."

Othniel sighed. “I s’pose that’s my cue to climb in your bed, Harry.” He got up from his cot and got on the other side of Harry’s full-size bed.

“Don’t hog the blanket,” Harry groaned with a trace of annoyance.

Meanwhile, Nova cozied herself up in the cot previously occupied by Othniel. She found the stiff canvas to be a lot less comfortable than the plush twin-sized mattress she was laying down on in the guest room, but she had to admit the trade-off was worth it. “Thank you,” she murmured as she fluffed her pillow.

“Don’t mention it,” Harry whispered back.

“We ended up taking some of that melatonin ourselves a few minutes ago,” added Othniel. “So if you took it forty minutes ago, then we might not be out for a good while then…”

“What I wouldn’t give for a sleeping draught,” agreed Nova. “Thank Merlin Professor Lupin and Black are going to the wizarding district tomorrow.”

“So, how are you liking Surrey so far?” asked Harry. “You don’t regret leaving the castle for Thanksgiving, do you?”

Nova grimaced. “It’s a little overwhelming, Harry. I think you know that.” She sighed softly to herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. While meeting my birth parents is a huge deal – one night is scarcely enough time to make up for being apart for fourteen years – I cannot deny the connection that I felt when I got off the train. There’s just a certain safety in Daddy’s arms… and Mum… she’s more magical than she’ll ever know.”

“In other words, nothing like how your grandparents described them,” chuckled Harry. “So, are you thinking of returning for Christmas break?”

“I’m not going to lie, I’m not used to spending time in a nearly magic-free house,” Nova admitted. “So many strange Muggle devices – I’m not saying that’s bad or anything – but it’s just so different than what I’m used to.” She stopped to ponder for a moment. “Most likely, I’ll be returning to Great Britain to spend Christmas with my grandparents, just like the past two years. They may be stubborn and narrow-minded, but they’re also the people that raised me.”

“Are you going to tell them that you visited your birth parents for Thanksgiving?” asked Othniel. “How well d’you think they’d take it?”

Again, there was a pause in the air before Nova responded. “At some point, I’ll tell them. I’m not exactly sure how to bring it up, but a goal of mine is to have my birth parents and my grandparents reconcile at some point. I’m three years away from being considered an adult in the wizarding world – I’m not as oblivious to what’s going on as my grandparents think I am. They need to understand that I’m my own person, and that I’m responsible for my own choices… I’m not going to parrot everything they do or say just because they’re my grandparents – I know right from wrong, and a lot of their outdated and hurtful views are absolutely wrong. I don’t expect them to pull a 180 and suddenly be sympathetic to Muggle-borns or anything, but they should at least accept the fact that there are those in the wizarding world that think differently than they do, and to respect those differences.”

“Muggle-born?” asked Othniel in a puzzled tone.

“No-maj born,” clarified Harry. “Muggle-born is the British version.”

“I see,” replied Othniel. “So certain families in Magical Britain look down on others… sort of like the Old Money and Commoner rivalry we have here.”

“It’s quite a bit like that, yes,” agreed Nova. “There are a handful of families in Magical Britain that think they’re above everyone else. They’re called purebloods, meaning all known family members are magical. And they want to keep it that way. Under certain circ*mstances, it may be acceptable to marry a particularly influential half-blood, but it’s utterly blasphemous to marry a Muggle-born, or as they say derisively, ‘mudblood’. Doing so would risk disinheritance – just ask Sirius.”

“But Sirius didn’t get disinherited for marrying a no-maj born,” Harry said. “He joined some sort of rebellion… Order of the Phoenix, I think.”

“Yes, but that’s what happened to his cousin Andromeda a while back,” clarified Nova. “It was a pretty scandalous event, according to my grandparents. It was a bit before my time so I can’t say first-hand.”

“It’s probably just as well I’m in North America then,” sighed Harry. “I know it’s not perfect, but it sounds a lot more uptight over there.”

“Magical Britain clings to tradition like barnacles on a ship’s hull,” giggled Nova. “Magical North America isn’t without its flaws, but at least it’s possible for a Commoner to marry into an Old Money family and not have major repercussions.”

“What are some of the flaws of magical North America?” inquired Othniel.

“You’re Muggle… err, no-maj born,” squeaked Nova. “You’ve heard of some Italian-American organized crime syndicates? Like, the Mafia?”

“Oh yeah,” chuckled Othniel. “I stayed over at a friend’s house last year and we watched The Godfather.” He lowered his voice. “That’s between us… if my parents ever find out that I watched an R-rated movie…”

“If they haven’t found out by now, they probably never will,” laughed Harry.

“Anyway, quite a few of the Old Money families are pretty crooked,” elaborated Nova. “For instance, they may loan out money to Commoners with ridiculous interest rates, or they may just give them the money and let them know that they owe them a favor, which the family reserves the right to invoke at any time. It usually involves something rather… unsavory.”

“Remind me not to get mixed up with Old Money families,” grumbled Othniel.

“As long as you’re not desperate for money, you should be fine,” giggled Nova. She let a small yawn escape from her lips. “I think that melatonin is finally starting to kick in. G’night, boys.”

“G’night,” echoed Harry and Othniel. It wasn’t long before the boys’ eyelids started getting heavy; by the time eleven o’clock rolled around, all three children were slumbering peacefully.

***

The next morning, the children were awakened by the aroma of scrambled eggs, bacon, and English muffins. Rhonda was at the stove, humming as she was whisking several eggs. Roger was seated at the circular kitchen table, enjoying a mug of hot, black coffee.

“Good morning, kids,” purred Rhonda as she scooped some fluffy yellow eggs on to some plates. “There’s milk and orange juice in the refrigerator. I’ll have your breakfasts on the table in a jiffy.”

“Thanks,” said Nova as she took her seat next to her father.

“So Uncle Roger,” Harry said as he poured himself a glass of milk. “D’you think I can go with Remus and Padfoot to the wizarding district today? I haven’t been to the one in Vancouver yet…”

“I’m not sure, Hare,” replied Roger, taking a sip of his still-hot coffee. “I’ve never been myself, so I can’t vouch for its safety.”

“Well, I’ll be with two adults,” countered Harry. “and it can’t be that dangerous, can it?”

“I just don’t want you to get lost is all,” sighed Roger. “Merlin knows what kind of shady characters you’ll come across… Knockturn Alley in London is full of them!”

Nova’s ears perked up. “You’ve actually been to Knockturn Alley, Daddy? Is it really as wanton and filthy as your parents say?”

“Every bit, Nova love,” replied Roger. “I’ve been, but not on purpose. It’s not a crowd you really want to mingle with… nothing but fences and junkheads!”

Nova tilted her head. “How’d you end up there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Let me put it this way,” chuckled Roger. “Don’t mumble your words when you want to floo somewhere, otherwise you might end up somewhere you really don’t want to be.”

“Floo?” asked Othniel, who had never heard of such a method of transportation.

“I used the floo for the first time earlier this term,” Harry said. “I tried it out in Remus’ office once. Basically, it’s a network of connected fireplaces that you can use after you throw a pinch of greenish powder on the ground.”

Roger’s face lit up. “So, how’d it treat you, Hare?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, it was a little weird when I did it, but at least I made it through in one piece.”

“This house isn’t connected by floo, is it?” asked Nova.

“I’m afraid not,” replied Roger. “We’re living off-the-grid so to speak, as far as the magical world is concerned.”

“That had to have been quite an adjustment,” murmured Nova in between sips of milk. “I don’t know if I could give up magic at the drop of a hat.”

“It wasn’t easy,” admitted Roger. “But I had to do it for Harry’s sake. If I twirled my wand around with reckless abandon, there’s no telling what kind of unwanted attention I’d attract!” He then turned his attention toward Harry. “I’ll ask Remus and Sirius to see if they’ll let the three of you tag along; that is, assuming they’re still going.”

“Awesome, thanks Uncle Roger,” Harry yelped with excitement.

“You’re welcome, Hare,” Roger chuckled. “I’m afraid poor Remus is going to have his work cut out for him… he’d have you three and Sirius to keep in line…”

“What’s wrong with Sirius?” Othniel asked with innocence.

Roger offered Othniel a slight grin. “Old Padfoot’s a good bloke and all, but as he’s – and I quote – an eligible bachelor, he’ll ask just about any attractive witch he sees on a date. Merlin, he’s even asked a few non-magicals on dates.” He shrugged. “To his credit, he’s been fairly successful, but I just wish he’d find one and stick with her… truth be told, I think he’s struggled to cope with the death of his fiancée ten years ago…”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Who was she, if you don’t mind telling us?”

Roger let out a small, sad sigh. “Anastasia Cherrywine. Like your parents, she was one of Voldemort’s victims.” He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Do me a favor, Hare… don’t bring it up with Sirius. It’s… a sensitive topic of sorts.”

Chapter 47: Diurn Alley

Chapter Text

At around ten o’clock that morning, there was a sharp rapping at the Woodwards’ front door. When Harry answered, he couldn’t help but smile broadly at the sight of his godfather and Defense teacher. “Sirius! Remus! How’s it going?”

“G’mornin’, pup,” chuckled Sirius as he tousled the lad’s dark, unkempt hair. “Remus and I are about to pay the Vancouver wizarding district a little visit… we thought we’d see if the lot of you wanted anything beforehand.”

“Actually,” replied Harry, his eyes wide with wonder, “I was rather hoping that you’d take us with you… if you’re cool with that.”

“Did your Uncle Roger give you permission?” asked Remus. “Merlin knows, I don’t think he’d appreciate you sneaking off behind his back…”

“I asked him last night,” replied Harry. “He didn’t seem to have any problems with it, but he wanted to be sure you two were cool with it.” He nodded toward the staircase behind him. “I think he’s in his study, if you want me to go fetch him.”

Remus smiled. “If you don’t mind, Harry.”

Perhaps two or three minutes later, Roger descended the steps to greet his fellow Marauders. “Good morning, you two. Would you care to join me in the kitchen? The coffee’s still plenty hot; the missus can brew some tea if you’d prefer…”

“I s’pose a spot of tea would be nice, Rog,” admitted Sirius. He let out a soft, sneaky chuckle. “Rhonda makes the best spiced chai.” He gave Roger a rather wistful expression; the lines of premature aging bunched around his eyes. “You’re a lucky bloke. You found a girl that loves you in spite of your gifts… Merlin, maybe even because of your gifts. Poor Lily didn’t have the luxury of choosing her Muggle family…”

“Her parents were all right, if memory serves,” recalled Remus fondly. “Mister and Missus Evans wouldn’t stop gushing about how wonderful Lily was, how proud they were of her.” His jaw clenched somewhat, recalling Lily’s other relatives. “Her sister Petunia, and that ogre of a husband of hers… Virgil – no, Vernon, are another matter entirely…”

Roger let out a soft groan. “Those Dursleys didn’t seem particularly interested in attending the wedding… they kept referring to us as, ‘their lot’, like we’re not totally human or something.”

“The one time I spoke with Petunia,” added Sirius, “was when Lily and James just announced their engagement… she had something stuck up her bum for sure. I’m not rightly sure what caused the falling out between the Evans sisters, but I’d reckon it’s Petunia’s jealousy of Lily’s gifts more than anything…”

***FLASHBACK – June 1978***

There was a gathering of perhaps seven or eight people surrounding a round oak table in the back corner of a small, dimly lit pub in Muggle London – not all that far from the Leaky Cauldron. Indistinct chatter could be heard from the table, along with the occasional ever-so-slightly intoxicated bursts of laughter. Most of the party appeared to be in good spirits, save for a young woman with chin-length dishwater blonde hair.

Although she was in her early twenties, her stern demeanor and sharp features made her look closer to thirty. Unlike the rest of the group, she sat quietly – perhaps even disdainfully – next to her younger sister, to whom she bore only the faintest physical resemblance. Her lips were a thin, straight line; they only parted every few minutes to take a sip of some exceptionally dry Chardonnay.

On her other side was a strapping young man of perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with shaggy chocolate hair and mutton chops. He was the only person at the table with a significant amount of facial hair, with a thick horseshoe-shaped moustache and a week’s worth of stubble covering much of the rest of his cheeks and chin. He was certainly intoxicated, as evidenced by the dozen upside-down shot glasses on the table in front of him; he was also the quickest to laugh whenever someone cracked a joke – no matter how corny or bawdy.

He raised yet another shot glass of cheap rum across the table. “To Lily and James,” he declared, unabashed. Nearly everyone else did the same, except for the blonde woman, who halfheartedly raised her glass to chin level, then set it back down again, without saying a word.

This did not go unnoticed by the man on her right. “What’s eatin’ ya, love?” he asked her with only partial concern. “You’ve hardly said a word all evening… aren’t you happy for your sister?”

“I am happy for Lily, Black,” the woman replied coldly. She sighed, and took a delicate sip of her wine.

“Cor, Tuney, you seem bloody miserable,” replied Sirius. He was unable to resist the urge to snicker, then pointed to her wine glass. “You’ve been nursing that same glass of wine for an hour and a half.” He shrugged. “You need to loosen up a little… nothing a couple of shots of rum or bourbon can’t cure. On me.”

Petunia eyed Sirius supciously. “I hope you’re not hitting on me, Black.”

Sirius just chuckled. “It’s a distinct possibility, Tuney love.”

Petunia shot Sirius a menacing glare. “You’ll do well to remember that I’m a newlywed… you’re lucky Vernon’s not here to put you in your place.”

Sirius waved his hands in mock deference. “Big Bad Vernie… what’s he going to do, sit on me?”

Petunia’s eyes narrowed further. “That’s not funny, mate. I’d stop right now, if I were you…”

For the first time that evening, Sirius’ expression changed from jovial to confused, perhaps even a little offended. “Apologies. I was just trying to lighten the mood is all… this should be a happy occasion, after all, and you’ve been nothing but silent and uptight. Cor, you’ve barely said a word to Lily all evening…”

Petunia waved an accusing finger at Sirius. “You have no idea what it’s like growing up with a sibling you have next to nothing in common with.” She gestured toward Lily. “She’s gotten all the adulation and attention, while I’ve been little more than an afterthought…” She nodded at her sister, then forced an insincere smile. “I think I’ve had enough for one evening, Lil,” she said as she reached for her purse and stood to her feet. “Congratulations… I – I think I need to be heading home right about now...”

Sirius stared at Petunia blankly for a moment. “Actually, I do,” he murmured in a voice so soft that nobody could have heard it over the commotion in the pub.

Petunia then shook her head at the only other non-magical person in the party – Rhonda Woodward, nee Masters. She leaned over and whispered in Rhonda’s ear. “If you were wise, Ronnie, you’d ditch these… pagans and return to the world which you rightfully belong… I can’t believe Woodward’s parents stole your daughter like that… you can fight that in our world, but there’s nothing you can do in theirs.”

Rhonda shook her head sadly. “I’m also just eighteen, Tuney… Roger and I weren’t ready to have a family but Nova just… happened. No, I don’t like that she was taken from us where we can’t even watch her grow up, but if you think I’m going to turn my back on my friends and family just because I don’t have their gift, then you’re sorely mistaken. These are good people, Petunia. People that would give their very lives for you and me… can’t you see that? I’ve chosen ‘my lot’ as you like to say, and it seems to me that you’ve chosen yours.”

“Suit yourself,” sniffed Petunia as she rushed toward the door, not bothering to look behind her.

***End flashback***

It wasn’t long before the entire household assembled in the cramped kitchen. Sirius kicked off the game plan: “As luck would have it, one of the entrances to Vancouver’s wizarding district is located in the sub-sub basem*nt of the flat that I rent. I’m afraid the side car won’t be big enough to hold the three of you pups and Remus, so you’ll just have to follow us.”

“I hope you don’t mind driving, Rhonda love,” said Roger. “I’m still not fully comfortable with those motorized contraptions.”

“I don’t mind at all,” replied Rhonda, “but I still find it odd how everyone drives on the opposite side of the road in North America… it just seems so counter-intuitive!”

“It was an adjustment using the motorbike for its intended nonmagical purpose,” Sirius added. “I’ve more or less gotten it down, but it takes a lot longer to get anywhere by staying on the ground.”

“I’ve seen how you maneuver that… thing,” blurted Roger. “It’s a bloody miracle you haven’t broken every bone in your body ten times over!”

“He hasn’t broken any bones, but I guarantee he’s broken countless laws… both magical and non-magical,” added Remus. “And you’re lucky, mate. You’re not the one riding shotgun - my molars are still wiggling just thinking about hopping in that sidecar…”

Sirius shook his head and chuckled. “You’ll get used to it, Moony.”

“Not bloody likely,” groaned Remus. “I’m half-tempted to ride with the Woodwards today…”

“Believe me, we’d rather you ride with us too,” Rhonda said with a nod, “but with three kids in the back, there just isn’t going to be enough room.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “You have my condolences, Remus.” She side-stepped the gang to reach for the keys dangling from the hook next to the refrigerator. “I suppose we’d better get going, as it takes nearly an hour to get to your pad, Sirius. If we leave now, we just might make it by the crack of noon.”

“Last one to the car’s a rotten dragon’s egg,” snickered Nova as she followed her mother out of the kitchen and to the garage.

Just a couple of minutes later, a series of eardrum-shattering brrrrrump, brrrrrumps could be heard from the Woodwards’ driveway. The sounds the enchanted motorbike made as Sirius hit the throttle were even louder than a standard, unaugmented model – Remus couldn’t help but remove his helmet momentarily so he could cover his ears, as the helmet did nothing to reduce the intensity of those triple-digit decibel roars. I’ll have to ask Rhonda for some Muggle ear-plugs next time, he promised himself. I’m surprised Sirius can still hear at all…

Harry, Othniel, and the Woodwards followed them in their four-door sedan; Rhonda couldn’t help but let a couple of four-letter words escape her lips as she struggled to keep pace with Sirius and his blatant disregard for Muggle traffic laws. When she finally came to a stop across the street from the apartment tower, she eyed each of them as she gave them a stern warn of caution:

“I’m not magical like the three of you, but I know enough of what goes on in those wizarding districts. I like to think most witches and wizards are good people, but just like in the non-magical world, there’s shady characters you need to avoid. I want you all to stay close to Sirius and especially Remus, as he’s also your teacher. This isn’t Ilvermorny – if you get lost, there might not be anyone to bail you out. Now, I’ll be back to pick you up at seven o’clock this evening… don’t keep me waiting.”

The three children wasted no time climbing out the backseat of the car. Harry practically flew to his godfather as he saw Sirius dismount his motorbike. Remus got out the sidecar a bit more cautiously, breathing a sigh of relief that the ride was over.

“You ready, pup?” Sirius asked Harry. “Diurn Alley is a bit different than Nessel Road or Diagon Alley… it’s a nice wizarding district all things considered, but I gotta warn you… if you don’t know any Cantonese, the merchants are more likely to swindle you. Many – if not most – of the wizarding population in Vancouver have roots in the Far East.”

“That’s interesting, because in Surrey most of the Asians are from places like India or Pakistan,” remarked Harry. He tilted his head. “Do you speak Cantonese? Or any Chinese dialects?”

“I know a smattering of Cantonese,” admitted Sirius. “I can ask for directions, or do a bit of haggling with the shopkeepers, but I’m nowhere near fluent.”

“Wow,” gasped Harry. “I’ve heard that most Asian languages are incredibly difficult for Westerners to learn… I’m amazed you know any at all!”

Sirius flashed a youthful smile. “When you immerse yourself in Asian wizarding culture, you can’t help but pick up a bit of the lingo. Say, how does Chinese sound for lunch? It’s been a while since I’ve had some…”

“Sounds good to me, Padfoot,” replied Harry with a bright smile.

“Now that you mention it, I’ve a bit of a hankering for a big bowl of beef chow mein,” chimed in Remus. He turned toward the children. “I’m sure Rhonda’s already told you this, but we really do need to stick together. This is my first time to Diurn Alley as well, but Padfoot says there’s a very disreputable neighborhood called Wheelbare Row that we really ought to stay clear of. From what I gather, it’s comparable to London’s Knockturn Alley… the dark wizards that do their business in Wheelbare Row are quite unlike the ones back in Magical Britain – I’d rather deal with the devil I know than the one I don’t!”

“So, is Asian magic different than British or North American magic?” asked Harry.

“Vastly,” Sirius said with no hesitation. “I think they have similar training, but their incantations and wand movements are unlike I’ve ever seen or heard. Their potions are different as well. They’re a very secluded, scholarly sect, but have begrudgingly begun to adopt some Western techniques over the past century or two. For example, the traditionalists prefer using staves over wands to channel their magic.”

He then led the crew to the lobby of the swanky apartment complex. He pointed to a trio of Muggle-looking elevators near the rear of the lobby. “It’s the middle one we’ll want to take,” he advised. When everyone was inside, he made sure nobody else was along for the ride, and pressed a random-looking series of buttons. The elevator thusly descended to the basem*nt level, then the sub-basem*nt level, and when the elevator came to a complete stop, he pressed the button to the sub-basem*nt level seven times in rapid succession. The elevator actually slid backwards about thirty feet, before descending at least another thirty or forty feet deeper underground. The elevator screeched to a halt, and when the doors opened, they somehow found themselves outdoors, on a cobbled road with bird and fish-shaped water fountains on either side.

Unlike Diagon Alley or Nessel Road, the shops and restaurants were not bunched together, but spread out. Some were of a Western architecture; others were reminiscent of East Asian pagodas; others still had a distinct Mughal design, rather like miniature versions of the Taj Mahal. Pomegranate and cherry trees – still in full bloom despite the chilly late November air – lined the avenues, and numerous bonsai trees lined the windowsills of many a shop or café.

“This is Diurn Alley, in all its glory,” said Sirius. He pointed a hand ahead and slighty to the right. “Stanley Wu’s café is just a few minutes up the road. He specializes in Cantonese seafood, but he can make you just about anything east of Istanbul… Nova, you’re a tea connoisseur, right? I recommend the Himalayan yak butter tea… it’s unlike any tea you’ve ever had, but it’s utterly delicious.”

“I usually don’t stray far from Irish Breakfast or chai, but I’ll try anything once,” replied Nova.

Sirius chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

Chapter 48: Wheelbare Row

Chapter Text

Roughly an hour later, the crew left Stanley Wu’s café and began meandering down Dirun Alley’s main thoroughfare. Othniel managed to suppress a burp, though his cheeks did puff out a bit as he covered his mouth with his sleeve.

“Thank you for lunch, Padfoot,” Harry said appreciatively. “That was the best Chinese I’ve ever had. The General Tso’s chicken had just the right amount of kick to it.”

“Don’t mention it, pup,” chuckled Sirius. He turned toward Othniel. “How did you like those egg rolls, Othniel?”

“They were awesome, Padfoot,” replied Othniel. “I can call you Padfoot, right?”

Sirius grinned at the copper-haired boy. “Not a problem at all… a friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine, I say.”

“For the record,” chimed in Nova, “you were absolutely right about that Himlayan tea. It’s much different than my British palate is used to, but I’m glad I branched out a bit. It’s every bit as satisfying as spiced chai.”

“What’d I tell you, love?” responded Sirius with a bit of a laugh. “I’ll admit that I grew up in a well-off household, but most British magical families aren’t exactly renowned for being worldly.” He offered her a lopsided shrug. “I didn’t rightly know what to expect when I explored Diurn Alley for the first time. I figured it to be pretty similar to Diagon Alley, but Diagon Alley doesn’t have pomegranates lining the streets, bonsai trees on shop windowsills, or statues of Asian dragons. I can tell that the bones of this district are British in origin, but some of these businesses have been converted by Asian wizards of various nationalities.” He smiled at the three children. “I’m glad I came here though, and I’m glad you three are with me to experience different wizarding cultures. I didn’t get that opportunity when I was your age.”

Remus pointed at a small shop kitty-cornered from where they were standing. “I’m pretty sure that store will at least have the ingredients to concoct a Sleeping Draught, Nova.” The storefront was certain very narrow, probably not much more than ten or twelve feet wide, and the doorway had a distinct Arabian or Persian pointed arch. The sign was written in Latin characters, though with a Middle Eastern styling: “Khalid’s Apothecary”.

Sirius nodded. “I’ve been to Khalid’s a couple of times. They charge a reasonable price for their wares, and won’t hesitate to direct customers to other stores if they don’t have the desired item in stock.” He grinned at the boys. “Why don’t you go on ahead and take Nova to Khalid’s, and I’ll take the boys to a specialty shop a couple of streets over, and we can meet back here in say, half an hour?”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t intend to take them to Wheelbare Row, Sirius?”

“So Riddick’s is technically in Wheelbare Row, but it’s got magical artifacts that would fascinate just about any boy… crossbows that fire mystical bolts, slingshots with pellets that transform into co*ckroaches on impact, fizzy drinks that make you lighter than air…”

Remus rubbed his forehead. “It’s not so much the merchandise I’m worried about, it’s the clientele… you never know whom you’re going to run into.” He let out a sigh, as he knew better than to try and talk sense into his friend. “All right Sirius. Thirty minutes, and not a second more.” He threw the boys a stern look, a look both boys rarely saw. “Harry? Othniel? I’m telling you this as your teacher and not as your friend… stay as close to Sirius as possible. Wheelbare Row is not an area you want to lose yourselves in.”

“Yes, professor,” the boys replied without hesitation.

Remus nodded in satisfaction. “All right, Nova, let’s try and find you that Sleeping Draught. The sooner we get what we need, the sooner we can return home.” He beckoned Nova to follow him across the street.

Khalid’s Apothecary didn’t seem any bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, which surprised Nova, as she was used to shops and vehicles looking much smaller on the outside than they were on the inside. Ugh, she thought, as she got a whiff of various pungent scents – a strange combination of burning incense and various herbs and spices on the shelves.

“My advice – don’t touch anything,” warned Remus. “This shop probably works a bit differently than you’re used to… we have to wait in line, and the shopkeeper will fetch whatever you need.”

“Isn’t that rather… inconvenient?” replied Nova.

Remus shrugged. “Perhaps it’s a bit inconvenient, yes, but some patrons can be ignorant or careless, and can damage goods just by handling them.”

Nova nodded. “I see.” She followed Remus to the rear of a line of customers, perhaps five or six strong, parallel to an elongated glass case containing dozens of potions ingredients. They waited patiently as Khalid took care of every customer in turn.

***

Meanwhile, Harry and Othniel followed Sirius to Riddick’s. The boys noticed that the closer they got to the store, the darker the skies got, even though it was still the early afternoon. Their shadows elongated, rather like there were heavy rainclouds above them, or they were in the midst of a total solar eclipse, but neither was the case.

Both Harry and Othniel felt chills racing up and down their spines – there was definitely an eerie feeling about this area, though Sirius remained completely unfazed.

“Step lively, boys,” Sirius called out. “Remember what Remus said – we can’t get separated.”

The architecture of Wheelbare Row was nothing at all like Diurn Alley. It had none of the exotic beauty of Diurn Alley, nor the colonial charm of Nessel Road. It looked distinctly European in design, reminiscent of late nineteenth and early twentieth century Muggle London; in particular, it bore similarities to the run-down districts like Whitechapel.

“Over there,” Sirius finally said, pointing at a gloomy-looking pawn shop perhaps a hundred paces in front of them, and slightly to their left.

When the trio entered the shop, the boys were immediately drawn to some ancient weaponry near the back wall, likely ranging from the middle ages through the late eighteenth century. They strongly resembled Muggle crossbows, polearms, and muskets but were clearly enchanted – either to increase their effectiveness, or change their purpose altogether.

As Sirius passed the counter, he did a double-take. Riddick was an elderly man, probably close to sixty years in age, with scars and pockmarks all over his face. A simple black patch covered his left eye – he must have been blinded, or lost it altogether in one of the many battles or duels he likely partook. His stringy grey locks hung down past his chin, and appeared to have a permanent scowl affixed to his face.

However, it wasn’t this man that caught the attention of Sirius. On the other side of the counter was a man roughly Sirius’ age, dressed in elegant black robes and fancy silver-capped walking stick which he carried as a status symbol. His platinum-blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and his piercing grey eyes looked down on literally everyone with disdain. He slowed his pace – while he kept his eyes on the boys, he was unable to resist eavesdropping on the conversation happening at the counter.

“One hundred forty five? You can do better than that, Mister Riddick,” the younger man said in a silky tone, dripping with arrogance. “This is barely more than what Borgin and Burkes offered back in Knockturn Alley. They personally recommended you as you have a reputation for paying top market value for… magical curiosities.”

Riddick pondered the ponytailed man’s words carefully, before inspecting the box of various toxins and other such deadly substances. He was about to make a slightly-higher counteroffer, when he spied a small, worn leather-bound book peeking from the top of the customer’s pocket.

“That book,” Riddick creaked in an airy Newfoundland brogue, “is that the personal diary of the Dark Lord himself?”

The ponytailed man smirked. “That is correct, Riddick. This dates from fifty years ago when he was prowling the halls of Hogwarts.”

“I’m not sure how it came into your possession, Lucius,” Riddick rubbed his stubble-covered chin in thought. “Then again, I don’t line my pockets with gold by asking questions… eight hundred dragots for the mixtures and the book.”

“Not yet,” replied Lucius with a sneer. “Perhaps when I’m finished with it, but for the time being… I have certain… plans for it. A certain… contemporary of mine back in Magical Britain has been on my case for some time, you see. He’s been conducting raids on my manor, and I have felt it necessary to unload any… incriminating artifacts. I can use this book to make it where he can never trouble me again.”

Riddick raised an eyebrow. “You’re not planning to off him, are you?”

“Not exactly,” Lucius drawled. “The misguided Arthur Weasley has already disgraced the very name of wizardry with his foolish obsession with Muggles and their lowly ilk…” His lips curled into a slimy grin. “The power of this book can make it where he and his family can never show their face in British wizarding society ever again. Furthermore, as I am on the Board of Governors, I’ll personally see to it that all his currently-enrolled children are expelled from Hogwarts by the time the current term concludes, and that his youngest shall never be admitted. That’ll teach him not to meddle in the affairs of his social superiors.”

Riddick nodded slowly, pondering Lucius’ spiteful words. “You’re wise to do your illicit dealings in Magical Canada instead of Magical Britain,” Riddick said with a nod. “If nothing else, you at least get the peace of mind that the exchange is far more difficult to trace had you done so in Knockturn Alley.” He eyed Lucius up-and-down, before continuing. “You seem to be a man with a discerning eye… an eye for the highest quality. Perhaps another time, we can discuss the book in greater detail, but for now… I’ll give you one hundred sixty dragots for the mixtures, and that’s my final offer.”

“Very well,” growled Lucius as he reluctantly accepted a handful of gold coins. Although he wasn’t completely satisfied with Riddick’s final offer, he could at least acknowledge that Riddick was fairer to his customers . His lips curled then into a faint smirk. “When I’m finished with the book, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Much obliged,” replied Riddick. “You mentioned having a son earlier… perhaps you’d like to browse a bit, and find a souvenir of sorts? I’ll even throw in a fifteen percent discount.”

“Twenty-five,” countered Lucius, being ever the haggler.

Riddick sighed. “Twenty, Lucius. You have to remember that not all the store’s profits line my pockets.”

“I suppose I can look around,” agreed Lucius. His head drooped a few degrees, and shook his head sadly. “So, so disappointing…”

“What’s wrong, Master Malfoy?” Riddick asked in a confused tone.

Lucius waved a dismissive hand. “It’s… my son, Draco… don’t worry too much about it.”

Riddick arched an eyebrow, unable to resist the urge to prod further. “You’re disappointed in your son? What did he do?”

“I’m not disappointed in Draco,” clarified Lucius. “I’m disappointed for him. He got sorted into an… undesirable house earlier in the term. No self-respecting heir should ever be placed in Hufflepuff. It’s the house of rejects and squibs… I’ve asked the headmaster to have him resorted on multiple occasions, but the arrogant oaf refused. Dumbledore leaves me no option, but to disenroll my Draco and send him to Durmstrang next term. I’ve already spoken with Headmaster Karkaroff, and let’s just say that their curriculum is exactly what my Draco needs. He’ll be twice the wizard I am when he graduates.”

Riddick nodded. “A few of my clients attended Durmstrang. They don’t shy away from the dark arts… and they don’t just admit any student.”

“Precisely,” replied Lucius with a sneaky grin. “Suffice to say, I don’t think Draco’s first term is going as either of us had planned. From what I gather, he’s made a couple of Muggle-born friends in his house. I suppose he can keep them… for now. He’ll have far better company at Durmstrang soon enough.” He let out a soft groan. “I’ve also heard that the students that should be his housemates – the ones in Slytherin – harass and bully him a fair bit. While I don’t like the fact that the Slytherins are tormenting him, I also don’t feel it necessary to step in and have them stop. The lad needs to toughen up… he needs to learn how to deal with problems in his own way. It’s what Slytherins do, after all.”

His grin broadened. “With that being said, his Potions instructor, Professor Snape, says that Draco is a natural in his class. He and I have maintained a solid friendship since our Hogwarts days, you see, and despite being the Slytherin house head, looks at Draco as one of his own. Draco has enough sense to go to Severus for advice before going to that glorified gardener, Professor Sprout.”

“Is he strong in his other subjects?” asked Riddick.

“He is indeed,” confirmed Lucius. “Top three in his year thus far. Only two Gryffindor girls are above him. One of whom I can stomach as she’s the daughter of a similarly-wealthy family. The other…” He looked like he threw up in his mouth a bit. “The other is the daughter of Muggles. She should have no business being in the top half of the year, much less hold the top spot. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll try and pick out a little something for my son.” Riddick nodded as Lucius took his leave to browse the store.

As Lucius prowled around the perimeter of the store, Harry and Othniel were still looking at the various enchanted weapons and pieces of armor. A small dagger – not much longer than Harry’s wand – caught the eyes of both boys. It was placed upright in an open black case, with various runes carved into the hilt. The blade itself glowed a distinct gold on its edges, practically beckoning the boys to hold it in their hands.

Just as Othniel was about to grab the dagger, an expensive-looking walking stick capped with a silver knob swiftly fell between his hand and the black box. “I really don’t think you’d want to handle that blade… it carries a particularly nasty curse.” The boys looked up to see the ponytailed owner of the walking stick, who co*cked his head just a few degrees. “Shouldn’t you lads be in school?”

“Erm, we’re off this week,” replied Othniel. “Thanksgiving break.”

“I see,” drawled Lucius. “Riddick’s isn’t exactly the kind of establishment a couple of young wizards such as yourselves should be visiting, at least unsupervised…”

Harry pointed toward a shelf a few paces away, where Sirius looking over some adult magazines. “My godfather’s over there,” he gulped. “He offered to take us here for a few minutes.”

Lucius looked over his shoulder; he sneered at the unmistakable visage of his old nemesis Sirius Black. His sneer melted away just as quickly as he turned back to Harry. He looked the lad up and down and smirked. With a gauntleted hand, he lifted a few strands of messy black hair to reveal the famous scar. “Ahh, so it’s true then,” he purred. “Only Harry Potter carries such a legendary scar – given by an equally-legendary sorcerer.”

“Lord Voldemort is a demon,” Harry retorted. “He killed my parents. I’ll make sure he never comes back.”

Lucius widened his eyes ever-so-slightly. “Brave words, Mister Potter.” His smirk returned as he offered his hand to Harry. “Lucius Malfoy. I never thought in my wildest dreams I’d meet the Boy-Who-Lived… in North America, of all places.” He turned toward Othniel. “And who might you be, Mister…?”

Othniel swallowed the lump in his throat. There was something about this man that made him feel uneasy, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. “Beckett, sir. Othniel Beckett.”

Lucius nodded, and addressed the boys again. “I have a son about your age named Draco. Needless to say, he was quite disappointed to learn that the great Harry Potter would not be joining him at Hogwarts this year.” He made the briefest of pauses. “Truth be told, so was I. I was rather hoping the two of you would become good friends… we both would have been delighted to give you a proper introduction to the wizarding world.”

The sound of heavy footsteps approached them. “All right, Lucius,” growled Sirius, “I don’t know what business you have in Canada, but I won’t have you poisoning Harry’s mind with your narrow-minded philosophy.”

“Sirius Black,” hissed Lucius. “I suppose I could ask the same about you.” He flashed his signature co*cky smirk. “You’re fortunate I found Mister Beckett when I did… he was about to touch the Skewer of Krintiz. I’m sure his parents would hold you responsible if he suddenly went blind. You really should keep a more watchful eye on these lads.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You and I have some unfinished business, Lucius.”

Lucius tightened his lips. “Indeed we do, Sirius, but our differences will have to be settled another time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to purchase a gift for my son and make my way home.”

Sirius drew his wand. “Oh, I’m not letting you off that easy, mate. I’ll make sure you never… gaaaah!” He suddenly found himself outside, across the street from the shop. “Bloody wards,” he mumbled to himself.

“Git got what he deserved,” Riddick mumbled. “I try to run a respectable business – I won’t tolerate wizards raising their wands in anger.”

“Where did my godfather go?” Harry asked the shopkeeper. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

“He’s just outside,” replied Riddick. “No, he’s not hurt… the shop wards activate whenever they detect aggressive intent from clients. He’ll be wise to remember that next time.”

“Come on,” Harry told Othniel. “We’d better go and find Padfoot… I think I’ve had enough for one day.”

Chapter 49: Returning

Chapter Text

Remus and Nova gave each other bewildered looks upon noticing the large scowl on Sirius Black’s face upon their return to the designated rendezvous point across from Khalid’s Apothecary. “Cor, Sirius, what in blazes happened to you?” Remus asked.

“Lucius Malfoy,” grumbled Sirius. “What are the odds that both of us would be in the same shop at the same time in Magical Canada? I just wanted to show the lads some magical rarities, but it seems someone in Magical Britain is on to Lucius, so he left the country to pawn off his illicit wares. And he actually had the gall to introduce himself to Harry… blimey, I think he really wanted to take him under his wing.” He shook his head angrily. “I won’t have that narrow-minded asp pervert Harry’s mind with ideas of blood supremacy and other such nonsense.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “Lucius Malfoy?” he asked in disbelief. “Like I alluded to earlier, you never know what kind of shady characters you might bump into in Wheelbare Row, but I wouldn’t have expected you to have bumped into someone in the Dark Lord’s inner circle.”

“If it means anything,” chimed in Nova, “my grandparents don’t exactly hold Master Malfoy in high regard. He’s wealthy, but he’s too craven and weak to be of any real value to the Dark Lord. There’s a reason he’s not his top lieutenant. Just another glorified goon.”

Sirius chuckled. “I think your grandparents and I might actually be in agreement there, love.” He turned toward Harry and Othniel. “I don’t know about you two, but I think we’ve seen enough action here for one day. I’m ready to head home.”

A short while later, as Harry, Othniel and Nova said their goodbyes to Sirius and Remus in the apartment lobby, Rhonda hit the carn horn to let the children know that she was there and waiting. The three scurried to the front of the building and found the Woodwards’ sedan parked by the entrance.

“Did you find what you’re looking for, Nova love?” Rhonda asked as the three children buckled themselves in.

“I did,” confirmed Nova. “I’m sure this sleeping potion will work considerably better than the melatonin did last night.”

“And what about you boys?” asked Roger. “Did you find anything interesting?”

Harry shrugged. “Not really… but Sirius almost started a fight in a pawn shop with a shady-looking customer from magical Britain. I think his name was Lucius something-or-other… he and Padfoot sure seemed to know each other.”

“That must have been Lucius Malfoy,” surmised Roger. “I wonder what in the name of Merlin he’s doing in magical Canada…”

“He was selling some sort of magical artifacts,” Othniel added. “Whatever it was, it sounds like he could get in trouble with it back in magical Britain.”

“Honestly? Not much,” Harry said. “It sure sounded like they’ve both been wanting to duel each other for quite a while. Sirius drew his wand, and a few seconds later, he just… disappeared. We found him outside the shop with a puzzled expression on his face.”

Roger burst into laughter. “Must have been the shop wards then. Sirius really should have known better… he was always one to shoot first and ask questions later…”

“That’s probably what got him sent to prison in the first place,” Rhonda said. “He’s got to learn that there’s other ways of resolving conflicts besides violence…”

“He’s a Gryffindor to the core, darling,” chuckled Roger. “Thinking things through has never been his strong suit. James, Remus and I have had to restrain him more times than I care to count.”

Rhonda nodded. “In retrospect, I think Lily and James’ decision to have us be Harry’s primary guardians was a good decision. That’s not to slight Sirius as he’s been a wonderful godfather, but Harry needed stability. Sirius wouldn’t have been able to raise Harry from behind bars…” She then turned toward the kids. “It’ll be close to dinner time by the time we get back. How does homemade shepherd’s pie sound for dinner tonight?”

***

Thursday was Thanksgiving, and Rhonda had prepared a banquet that looked good enough to rival the Start-of-Term Feast at Ilvermorny, with fried turkey, honey-glazed ham, stuffing, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie. The children said their goodbyes to Sirius and Remus that evening, as they would be traveling to Seattle separately the following morning.

By the time Harry, Othniel, and Nova were about to enter the Cerulean Platform, it was already half past nine. Harry and Othniel’s goodbyes to the Woodwards were quick, but as expected, Nova’s was far more emotional and drawn-out. She hugged her parents tightly for what seemed to be a good ten minutes before Rhonda gently prodded her to join her friends while she still had time.

A few tears trickled down her face after she passed the portal and crossed over to the Cerulean Platform. She joined Harry and Othniel in line to board the Chinook, while a conductor checked names off from a list as they boarded the train. “I hope you had a good time, Nova,” Harry whispered just before they climbed the railroad car steps. “I know you’re overwhelmed and all, but if you want to join us in our compartment later…”

“I had a wonderful time, Harry,” replied Nova, still sniffling. “Thank you for inviting me. If it’s all right with you, I would like a little time to myself, but we’ll meet up in a bit, all right? How about for a meal?”

Harry nodded. “Sounds good.”

The conductors then directed the boys to the designated first-year section, and Nova to the third-years’. Not long after that, one of the conductors announced the last call to board, and within minutes, the Chinook began lurching forward, making its way back toward Ilvermorny.

The boys spent the first couple of hours relaxing in their compartment, and Othniel even nodded off for a short nap, while Harry spent the time reviewing some homemade flash cards for History of Magic. They were both interrupted by a quick, gentle rapping on their door.

The same grey-haired Jamaican witch from the beginning of term addressed her boys in her usual soulful voice. “Good day, gentlemen,” she cooed. “As a friendly reminder, we are due to arrive in Massachusetts just after lunch on Sunday. You needn’t worry about your personal belongings as they will be delivered to your dormitory shortly after arrival.” She offered a kind smile to Harry and Othniel. “As for today, lunch will be served up front in about fifteen minutes if you’re hungry now; otherwise you’ll have an opportunity to purchase snacks and beverages from a trolley later in the afternoon. Finally, you may have your dinner any time between five and eight o’clock this evening. Do you have any questions in the meantime?”

“What kind of snacks will you be serving?” asked Harry. “I know it’s a good couple of hours away, but I would like to know my options ahead of time.”

The older witch chuckled. “No harm in asking. There’s the usual fare – puckerberry juice, puckerberry rolls, Toby Tucker’s Thousand Spice tortilla chips, chocolate frogs, Pukwudgie pies…”

Othniel’s eyes widened. “Thousand Spice tortilla chips? What are those like?”

“Each tortilla chip is infused with the flavor of one of a thousand different kinds of chili peppers. Some are pleasingly piquant, others will have you breathing a hotter fire than a Chinese Fireball dragon,” replied the witch.

The boys high-fived each other. “Cool!”

The witch smiled and nodded at the boys. “I’ll need to finish making my rounds, but I’ll be back this afternoon. See you then.”

***

That same day, back at Hogwarts, Daphne Greengrass was going over some potions classwork with her housemates in the Gryffindor common room after class.

“It says we need ten lionfish spines for a Wiggenweld Potion,” said Lavender. “Why are you only adding five?”

“Because we don’t add all of them at the same time,” explained Daphne. “Surely you remember Professor Snape berating Ron and Neville for dumping them all at once?” She squeezed her eyes shut and let out an exasperated sigh. “Merlin, Gryffindor boys can be so daft sometimes. Their Slytherin counterparts reek of smugness, but they’re at least competent in the classroom.”

Hermione – this time, sporting a perfect halo braid, courtesy of her housemates – looked upward in thought as she ran some numbers in her head. “Among the four of us, we’ve contributed a net running total of forty eight house points, at least so far.”

Daphne gave Hermione a high-five. “Not bad at all… I’m curious, have you kept a running total of the boys’ contributions as well?”

Hermione gave Daphne a look of uneasiness. “I have… but do you really want to know? I don’t think you’ll like the answer…”

“Fire away, girlfriend,” chimed in Parvati. “I’m not going to lie, I do take a bit of pleasure in one-upping our male counterparts.” All four Gryffindor girls giggled softly at her comment.

“Minus thirty nine,” squeaked Hermione, causing Daphne to cringe. “Granted, Professor Snape is responsible for the majority of those deductions. If Neville can just a find a way to keep his cauldron intact…”

“He also gave us five points for our Wiggenweld potion earlier today,” added Daphne. “I’m just grateful to get any at all. He doesn’t award Gryffindor points very often, that’s for sure.”

“He gave Malfoy ten points for his,” mumbled Lavender. “His potion was good, but no better than ours.”

“I’ve noticed that Professor Snape gives Draco special treatment,” agreed Hermione. “He doesn’t favor anyone else in Hufflepuff like that…”

Daphne shook her head. “He doesn’t favor anyone like he favors Draco – not even his own serpents.” She let out a thin, airy sigh. “He and Lucius Malfoy were housemates at one point. Master Malfoy was a couple of years ahead of Professor Snape, and took him under his wing. Neither of them are particularly fond of Gryffindor, but I suppose I can sympathize a bit. From what my parents told me, when they were still enrolled at Hogwarts, there were quite a few Gryffindor students who got their jollies by harassing and pranking Slytherin students. Both Master Malfoy and Professor Snape were victims of their so-called ‘practical jokes’…”

“So Snape is basically repaying Malfoy’s father,” surmised Parvati. “But what I don’t get is, he showers the boy with house points, and offers him private tutoring lessons, but he rarely steps in when Slytherins harass his favorite pupil.”

“I’m sure he wants to,” Daphne said. “Master Malfoy probably expects Draco to behave like a Slytherin despite being placed in Hufflepuff, so it's likely he only wants Professor Snape to step in only when absolutely necessary. He has no respect for Professor Sprout's capabilities, even though she's a very accomplished witch. In essence, Draco needs to figure out how to resolve his problems on his own, using any means necessary, because from a Slytherin perspective, getting help can be seen as a weakness.”

She smiled at her three friends. “I never expected to be sorted into Gryffindor, but I really think it’s the right house for me. I don’t just have three awesome housemates; I have three awesome friends which I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.” Her smile then faded. “As for Draco, his sorting wasn’t just unexpected… it was unacceptable. Rumor has it that his father wanted to have him re-sorted, but the headmaster wouldn’t allow it, so he may be going to another school altogether next term…”

“Like Durmstrang?” chirped Lavender. “The school is basically what Hogwarts would be if Salazar Slytherin had his way…”

“They’re going to absolutely break him if he goes there,” said Parvati. “If he can’t stand up to three or four Slytherins… imagine the hell he’d go through when the whole school is like that.”

Daphne shook her head. “That’s the whole point. I think Lucius wants Durmstrang to break Draco down, then build him back up… he’s going to end up a very bitter and mean-spirited wizard one day if his father gets his wish.”

“He’s not a mean boy at all,” protested Hermione. “Why would a parent want their child to grow up angry and vengeful?”

“Because the Malfoys don’t eschew dark magic like my family does,” replied Daphne. “Most of my family was officially neutral in the Wizarding War over a decade ago – in fact, a few of them were secretly hoping the Dark Lord would fall, my parents included. And the Malfoys… well, they were some of the Dark Lord’s strongest supporters before his defeat. Lucius was once a Death Eater, but he was tolerated more than favored as he was more of a financial supporter; he was usually too craven to do anything meaningful out in the field. The only way for Lucius to get over his own shortcomings… is to live vicariously through his son.”

“It’s only natural for a parent to want their children to eclipse their accomplishments,” murmured Hermione. “But what Master Malfoy wants is just sick and twisted.” Her housemates nodded in agreement, then continued on with their schoolwork.

Chapter 50: Getting Reacclimated

Chapter Text

That evening at Hogwarts, a first-year boy with shaggy bleach-blonde hair and the unmistakable black and gold Hufflepuff patterning on his uniform knocked on a heavy wooden door next to the potions classroom. He wore a rather nervous expression on his face as he waited for permission to enter the potion master’s office.

“You may enter, Mister Malfoy,” came the cool, monotonous voice from the other side of the door.

Draco opened the door just wide enough to squeeze himself in; he closed it just as quickly. He fidgeted for a moment, before Professor Snape gestured for the boy to take a seat across from his desk.

The expression on Snape’s face was impassive as always, but the tone in his voice betrayed his gaze. There was a definite note of concern in it, a quality he rarely displayed, particularly in a public setting. “It has come to my attention, Draco, that you’ve had a bit of a run-in with three of my Serpents during breakfast this morning. Misters Crabbe and Goyle, and a certain Miss Parkinson. Does that sound accurate?”

Draco barely nodded his head. “Y-yes sir. I didn’t start anything, I promise…”

“No, I do not believe you to be the antagonist.” Snape returned the nod, his nostrils flaring ever-so-slightly. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had a less-than-pleasant encounter with them, is it, young man?”

Draco hung his head. “They’ve had some sort of issue with me ever since the Start of Term Feast. I try to keep my distance from them, but sometimes avoiding them is impossible. I’m not one to look for trouble, sir. I don’t like arguing, fighting, or breaking the rules…”

Snape cut him off with a quick gesture of his hand. “I’m not chastising your conduct or prowess as a student, which are beyond reproach. As it is, I sorely wish you were one of my own, as does your father, but alas, fate can be a cruel mistress…” He narrowed his eyes at Draco. “When I look at you, Draco, I see the same thing your father does – a tremendously gifted young man with potential to do great things in the wizarding world. I also see much fear in you… fear that will stunt said potential if you do not learn to control it.”

Draco co*cked his head. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, sir.”

The corner of Snape’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “You need to learn some confidence, which is why I’ve taken it upon myself to personally teach you some useful charms and jinxes… things that you wouldn’t learn in Defense Against the Dark Arts from Professor Quirrell…” The way he emphasized the last two words, it was obvious he held the sitting Defense instructor in low esteem.

“Father says you’ve been wanting to teach Defense for a good while,” replied Draco. “I wish you were teaching Defense this term… I think Professor Quirrell means well, but between his stuttering and his weird twitching, he makes it kind of hard to learn anything…”

Snape nodded curtly. “You’ll learn more about Defense in two hours with me than you would in two months in his class.” His eyebrows then furrowed. “Under my personal tutelage, you’ll become a far more confident, well-rounded wizard by the end of term. However, I offer my services with a condition – what you will learning, will be strictly for protecting yourself should any of my delinquent Serpents get the jump. I never want to hear of you instigating anything with your new skillset. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Draco replied respectfully.

“Very good,” Snape murmured. “And sometimes, the wisest move is to make a quick escape. There’s nothing wrong with a hasty retreat so you can live to see another day. Your typical Gryffindor may confuse that with cowardice, but I assure you, it’s not. It’s survival, and nobody knows how to survive better than a Slytherin. Your father would agree.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “And when shall we begin?”

“The usual time,” said Snape in a low voice. “Thursdays after dinner. You’ll meet me here – we’ll simply be adding a bit of Defense on top of your private Potions lessons.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Draco drawled with gratitude. “I’ll see you then.”

***

Back at Ilvermorny on Monday morning, hundreds of groggy students crowded the mess hall as trustees from each house handed out their respective charges’ wands. To their collective relief, there was no physical training that morning, but there was little excitement as few of the students were looking forward to resuming their classes.

Once Harry, Othniel and Tallulah received their wands, they found some seats by Ana and her roommates. Ana’s face glowed with anticipation, while Sabrina’s countenance was more nonchalant. Jillian, however, was unable to hide her scowl. “I’m not ready for class to start,” she grumbled.

“I’m not sure I’m ready either,” admitted Sabrina, “but look on the bright side. No physical training this morning, and Christmas is less than a month away.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “If Christmas were tomorrow, it still couldn’t get here fast enough.”

Ana shook a fork in Jillian’s direction. “Come on, Jilly. We have Defense first! At least it’s not Potions!”

This time Jillian rolled her eyes so hard, they threatened to fall out. “That’s easy for you to say, ‘Stasia! You’re the one with the crush on Professor Lupin!” She proceeded to imitate her teacher, complete with a facsimile British accent. “I’m Professor Lupin! I’m a snooty Hogwarts graduate who’s too good for Ilvermorny…” Pop!

Ana slapped the top of Jillian’s hand. “That’s not funny,” she snarled, “nor is it true. He loves it here, and he cares for all of his students. We’re lucky to have him as one of our teachers.” She then turned toward her three first year friends. “Oh good morning, you three! How was your Thanksgiving break?”

Harry and Othniel looked at each other, grinning from ear to ear, before addressing Ana. “You can say it was an adventure,” replied Harry. “I got to spend a bit of time with my godfather and Professor Lupin in the Vancouver wizarding district.”

“We were this close to witnessing a wizard’s duel,” added Othniel. “Harry’s godfather threatened this creepy-looking dude with a bleach blonde ponytail, but something from the store must have activated as he somehow ended up outside the shop!”

“Oh Merlin,” grumbled Ana as she covered her face with her palm. “Spare me the details… I probably don’t want to know what led to the confrontation…”

“Let’s just say that Padfoot and Lucius know each other from their time at Hogwarts, and they weren’t exactly good friends,” said Harry.

“The highlight of my Thanksgiving break was spending a bit of time on the phone with you two goobers,” giggled Tallulah. “That, and a big ole slice of my Great Meemaw’s pecan pie… mmmm!”

Ana giggled. “I’m sure her pecan pie is very tasty, but wait until you try my Great Aunt Maggie’s seven berry pie. It’s nothing short of heavenly!”

“No way, girlfriend,” replied Tallulah. “Try pairing my Great Meemaw’s pecan pie with a scoop of her homemade vanilla ice cream… you simply can’t beat that combination!”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Ana said. She let out an exasperated groan. “You’re making me wish I went home for Thanksgiving instead of staying at the castle and studying. Thanks a lot, Tallulah.”

Tallulah snickered. “Don’t mention it, Ana.”

“You are going back home for Christmas, I hope?” Harry asked. “I know you take your studies seriously, but you really need some time to relax. I’m sure your friends and family back home miss you.”

Ana covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. “Yes, Harry, I promise I’m going back home for Christmas break.” She threw Harry a sneaky grin. “I won’t promise I’ll forget to take some textbooks with me…”

“That’s fine Ana,” Harry said, “but I’d think just an hour or two a day should be enough. You don’t need to be cooped up in your room all day long…”

Ana shook her head. “Relax, Harry! An hour or so should be enough to take the edge off.”

All of a sudden, a flurry of avian messengers stormed the mess hall, and one of the school owls plopped a letter in front of Ana’s half-eaten stack of flapjacks. Upon noticing the unmistakable Hogwarts seal, she let out an excited squeal and opened the yellowish-white envelope.

“22 November 1991

Dear Anastasia,

Hiya! I hope you’re enjoying your week off from school. I remember you telling me that you made a last-minute decision to stay at the castle instead of going home – if it was me, I’d be going back home, but I also understand your reasons for staying – I’d be busting my bum preparing for the Quiz Bowl too, especially if there’s a trip to another wizarding school on the line!

Speaking of which, I may try out for the Gryffindor Quiz Bowl team next term. I’m not one to toot my own horn, but I’m comfortably in the top five of my year so far. I don’t expect to make it the first time, but if there’s someone in our year who can do it, it’s my housemate Hermione. She’s unquestionably the top student of our year – she spends more time studying than anyone I know, with the exception of yourself. She takes it upon herself to lead our study sessions – while she knows I’m a capable student, she does have to harp on my other housemates Lavender and Parvati every now and then. I’m sure they find her rather frustrating from time to time, but I actually admire Hermione and her persistence – she refuses to let her friends settle for second-rate marks when she knows they’re capable of being better than average.

Here's a photo of the four of us from last week. The girl with the exceptionally long hair is Lavender, the girl with the twin black pigtails is Parvati, the girl with the halo braid and braces is Hermione (she does look a bit like you, now that I think about it), and of course myself. I’d love for you to join us for a group photo if you make it to Scotland this coming spring!

I feel so happy for Hermione lately – Parvati, Lavender and I have boosted her self-esteem by a significant amount as of late. Since September, I’ve asked and asked and asked if we could give her a non-magical makeover; she finally relented a few weeks ago and let us style her hair (it’s usually a bushy chestnut jungle). When she looked at herself in the mirror for the first time after seeing every single hair in place, she cried big, fat happy tears – she said that for the first time in her life, she actually felt pretty, and that she couldn’t wait to show her parents at Christmas.

What about your friends and roommates? I don’t think you’ve told me a lot about them. For instance, you mentioned this Nova girl before – I’m assuming she’s got ties to Magical Britain if her father went to Hogwarts?

So, what are your plans for Christmas? I’m assuming you’re returning to your family, which is what I’m doing. I haven’t seen them in nearly three months – I’m probably going to break down and cry my eyes out when my parents hold me. I’ve never been apart from them this long before, and while I try to put on a brave face, I can’t help but break down and sob every now and then. I miss them terribly, even though I do write to them every week.

Your letters always bring a smile to my face, Anastasia. I hope you enjoy reading my letters as much as I read yours. I can’t wait to see what you have to say next time.

With love from Hogwarts,

Daphne”

“Oh, she sent another picture,” squeaked Tallulah. “D’you mind if I take a peek?” Ana nodded, and passed the moving photo to Tallulah, who grinned rather like a Cheshire cat. “She’s got some cute housemates.” She flipped the back of the photo over, which had an inscription of each Hogwarts girl’s name in order. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Okay, that’s definitely Daphne on the left,” she deduced, pointing at the giggling blonde girl. Her voice softened a smidge, trying to enunciate her roommate’s unusual first name. “HAIR-mee-owe-nuh?” She shook her head in confusion as she pointed to the halo-braided girl, second from the left – also giggling. “Sort of a strange name she’s got, but she’s pretty cute too.” She looked back up at Ana. “Y’know something, Ana? She kind of looks like you, except with braces and without the freckles.”

Ana burst into laughter. “First off, it’s Hermione. Her-MY-uh-knee. It’s a lot like Daphne and Anastasia in that it’s uncommon, and is derived from Greek.” She smiled at Tallulah. “She does look a little bit like me I suppose, but her eyes and nose are different. She’s a very cute girl, at any rate.”

Tallulah nodded. “Pur-vatty?” she murmured, admiring the third girl’s twin pigtails.

“I think it’s Par-vah-tee,” corrected Ana. “She must be of Indian descent.”

“Tallulah’s an Indian name,” Tallulah exclaimed with pride.

Ana smiled at her friend. “No, I mean, Indian, as in South Asian.”

Tallulah’s mouth rounded into an ‘o’. “I was gonna say, it doesn’t sound like a Choctaw Indian name. And she’s a pretty girl too – I love those pigtails of hers!” She then looked at the last girl, with the light brown hair that looked like it hung all the way down to the small of her back. “This must be Lavender. At least hers is easy to pronounce!” She then handed the photo back to Ana. “Y’know, we need to get a group photo before you send out your next letter. I’m sure Daphne would love that!”

Chapter 51: A First Time for Everything

Chapter Text

The festivities of the Christmas season were in full swing at both Ilvermorny and Hogwarts. The first dusting of snow had fallen in both Massachusetts and Scotland, and the aroma of gingerbread, peppermint and pine permeated the air at each of the magical schools. Most of the students and staff were in jolly spirits – even the crotchety old Potions Master, Madam L, was once caught nursing a candy cane in the hallway.

With a two-week holiday break to look forward to, the majority of the students had become increasingly giddy, as nearly all of them had plans to return home to be with their families. Each of the four houses’ common rooms were fancifully decorated, with brightly-lit Christmas trees, holly wreaths, cinnamon and spruce-scented candles, and even a sprig of mistletoe was prominently displayed near Old Margie.

One Tuesday evening, the Horned Serpents were returning to the Horned Serpent tower after dinner to relax, or get caught up with their classwork. Nova, feeling especially cheeky, told an oblivious Ana to stop for a moment – right underneath the sprig of mistletoe.

“What’s up, Nova?” asked Ana, utterly clueless to Nova’s intentions.

Nova snickered, and gave Harry a rather rough shove toward Ana. Boof! Harry careened into Ana, nearly causing the poor girl to tumble over on the floor.

“What the hell, Harry?” Ana shrieked angrily.

“It’s not my fault,” grumbled Harry. “Nova pushed me into you! If you want to get upset at someone, blame her!”

Nova couldn’t stop her chortling. “Awww, you two look so cute underneath the mistletoe… you know what that means, right?”

“NOVA!” screeched Harry and Ana.

Nova flashed a diabolical grin. “Oh, you’re not getting yourselves out of this one. In fact, I wish I had my magical camera with me…”

“I don’t think they have to kiss,” pleaded Tallulah. “You forced them under the mistletoe…”

Nova shook her head. “Rules are rules… but hey, it’s not like you have to actually snog. Just a quick little peck and you’re done…”

Ana let out a frustrated groan. “All right, let’s get this over with.” She closed her eyes, flicked her head toward Harry’s, and gave him the quickest, feather-light peck on the lips. The expression on her face indicated she didn’t particularly enjoy that experience, but her scowl only grew as she whirled to address Nova. “As for you, Woodward… Furnunculus!”

In the blink of an eye, she drew her wand, and cast the Pimple Jinx on Nova. Several dark pink and purple splotches and bumps suddenly emerged on her usually-smooth cheeks. Ana, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah doubled over with laughter as Nova screamed as she ran her fingers over her face. “Anastasia Kay Harrison!” Nova roared. “You… you… you… mudblood!” She burst into tears and fled to her dormitory.

Ana shook her head, clearly not offended by the epithet. “This isn’t Magical Britain,” she murmured. She then offered Harry an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “Why? You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

Ana’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. “I know that had to be as uncomfortable for you as it was for me. I’m going to level with you – that wasn’t how I envisioned my first kiss going down.”

Harry bit his lip. “For the record, that was my first kiss too… and honestly, I don’t know how I feel about it, other than it was, well… weird.” He pointed toward the girls’ dormitories with his head. “And Nova… will she be all right? I hope that’s not permanent…”

“Yeah, I think weird is a pretty accurate way to describe it,” replied Ana with a slight nod. She flashed her signature smile. “And Nova will be fine, Harry. It’s just the Pimple Jinx. It should clear up on its own soon enough, but I can whip up a Cure for Boils potion for her should they linger.”

Othniel scrunched his nose. “What was it that she called you? Mudblood? What’s that s’posed to mean, anyway?”

Ana shook her head, still smiling. “It’s not a term you see thrown about much in North America, as it’s all but lost its meaning over the centuries. However, in Magical Britain, it’s an insult used by what are known as ‘purebloods’, and occasionally by ‘halfbloods’ to mock a witch or wizard who comes from a non-magical family.”

“You know that Nova doesn’t buy into that blood supremacy business,” said Harry. “It’s probably not the term she wanted to use, but after spending most of her childhood being raised by bigoted grandparents, it’s what’s she’s been exposed to… she sort of defaulted to it, even though she knows it’s wrong.”

“It’s not a big deal, Harry,” Ana re-iterated. “Now, I’ve got some schoolwork and Quiz Bowl prepping to do, but if time permits, I can maybe quiz you three sometime before lights-out? You do have a Potions mid-term exam coming up, do you not?”

“Next Tuesday,” groaned Othniel. “Don’t remind me.”

“For someone that gripes about school as much as they do, you’re doing all right for yourself,” squeaked Tallulah. “Just a sec, y’all.” She approached the wall where the bulletin board was displayed; to its right was a roster of each student, sorted by year. She ran her finger down the list, searching for ‘Slater, Tallulah J’. She smirked in satisfaction as she saw her current place in her year’s academic standings. She then quickly looked up ‘Potter, Harry J.’ and ‘Beckett, Othniel G.’ She hummed to herself in quiet approval before returning to her group.

“As it stands, Othniel, you’re in ninth place among first-year Horned Serpents, and twenty second overall. That’s nothing to sneeze at.” She then turned toward Harry. “As for you, Harry, you’re third in our house, and fifth overall.” Ana turned around gave both boys a congratulatory high-five.

“What about you, ‘Lu?” asked Othniel. “You gotta be first overall…”

“I wish,” sighed Tallulah. “I’m first in our house, but second overall.”

Harry shrugged. “I wonder who’s first overall, then?”

Tallulah shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you, Harry. It only lists the Horned Serpent students…” She let out a low snicker. “But what I can tell you with a high degree of confidence is that it’s not Replogle or his toadies. I can practically guarantee that they’re all in the bottom half of our year.”

***

The following Wednesday morning at Hogwarts, Daphne and her housemates were in the midst of quizzing each other for an upcoming Transfiguration exam, when one of the school owls dropped a small, sealed package in front of Daphne’s empty porridge bowl. She glowed with delight as she was about to unseal it – she instantly recognized the handwriting as Ana’s – but before she could delve into its contents, a small hand clasped her shoulder.

“I know you’ve been looking forward to Anastasia’s reply, Daph,” squeaked Hermione, “but this time… it probably should wait a bit. We’ve got the biggest Transfiguration exam to date coming up right after breakfast!” She offered Daphne a warm smile. “I’m sorry if I’m being a little bossy, but next to the end-of-year exams, this is about as big as it gets! We’ll have some time right after our exam, I promise – I’d love to see any photos she’s attached!”

Daphne made a resigned-sounding sigh, but nodded at Hermione. “All right. I guess I’ve waited this long to hear back from her – what’s one more hour?” Hermione nodded in approval, and the four Gryffindor witches resumed quizzing each other.

At around ten thirty that morning, all four girls plopped on the plush Gryffindor couches in the common room, relieved that their biggest exam to date was already behind them. “Two more days until we’re excused for Christmas break,” chirped Parvati. “I’ve had some fun in the three months I’ve spent in the castle, but I’m ready to return home for a bit.”

“So, what did your friend from Ilvermorny have to say this time?” asked Lavender. “This might be the last one you’ll get from her until term starts back up, so you’d better cherish this one.”

Daphne reached into her backpack and produced the partially-opened envelope, and pulled out both a letter and a couple of moving photographs. There was no hiding the delight in her eyes as she read the letter:

“9 December 1991

Dear Daphne,

I can’t believe it’s almost time to return home for Christmas! Yes, I promise I’m going back home to my family in Indiana – though I’ll be spending at least a little time each day preparing for the Quiz Bowl – the third one of the term is this coming Friday – the Horned Serpents have won both of them so far, though we’ve had some close calls!

I have no doubt you’d make a fine addition to your house’s Quiz Bowl team someday. Who knows, maybe both you and your friend Hermione (I think she has a wonderful name, by the way) will make it next term! I’d love to see the both of you pull it off.

All three of your roommates are very pretty. I’m one of eleven Horned Serpent girls in my year, but just two of them are my actual roommates, Jillian and Sabrina. One of the attached photos is the three of us in our formal robes near end-of-term from last year (yes, I’m the one with the glasses – but I usually wear contact lenses now). I like my roommates, but I actually spend more time with a crew of spunky firsties – they’re also my housemates.

Here’s a photo of all of us, taken just a few days ago actually. The girl with the shoulder-length auburn hair and tabby cat in her arms is Tallulah, the boy with the coppery-brown hair and overalls is Othniel, the girl with the dark blonde hair and forest green sweater is Nova, and the boy with the black shaggy hair and glasses is Harry.

Like myself, Tallulah and Othniel are no-maj born, while Harry has a mix of magical and non-magical family members in Canada and Nova grew up in a magical family in Great Britain. She very, very nearly chose Hogwarts, but her father used to teach at Ilvermorny so she was able to select from either school. I do think a small part of her regrets not choosing Hogwarts, but otherwise I think she’s very happy with her choice.

I get a genuine thrill reading your letters – they are often the highlights of my day. Send some good vibes my way – I’m getting giddier by the day, thinking of the possibility of meeting you and your lovely friends.

Last but not least, I’ve attached a little something for you and your friends. It’s a few treats from Ilvermorny, which Nova says they don’t have at Hogwarts. While I admit it’s not much, I did want to send you a little something for Christmas. You don’t have to send anything in return – it’s okay, I promise – but I figured this would probably be our last correspondence before the holidays and wanted to make it memorable. Please stay warm, and I hope you make some terrific memories with your friends and family back home. I know they love and miss you very much.

With love from Ilvermorny,

Anastasia”

“Looks like she sent you quite a bit more than just a note this time, Daph,” giggled Parvati. “What all did you get?”

“Weeeellll,” drawled Daphne, “the letter is mine, but the photos and treats she sent are for all four of us.”

“Treats?” chirped Lavender. “What kind of treats?”

Daphne plucked two small bags of Toby Tucker’s Thousand Spice tortilla chips, a small box containing four puckerberry jelly rolls, and a small Pukwudgie pie. She turned to Hermione and smiled. “You can eat at least some of these, right? I know your parents told you that you’re restricted to what you can eat while you’re still wearing your braces.”

Hermione smiled sweetly and nodded. “That’s right, Daphne. Now, my parents are dentists, but they have a very good friend who’s an orthodontist – he was the one who put these nasty things on my teeth a few months ago – but they know what I should and should not be eating until they come off.” She pointed at the bags of chips. “Those chips look safe, and as long as those jelly rolls and pie aren’t super chewy, I can probably have a little bit of those.”

Daphne doubled over, giggling. “I’m not sure what the difference is between a dentist and an orthodontist – you’ll have to forgive me, they’re just not professions we’re familiar with in the magical world – but just because I don’t always understand, doesn’t mean that I don’t care. I just want you to get your fair share.”

“You’ve been an angel ever since we got sorted together, Daphne,” murmured Hermione. “The transition from the Muggle world to the magical one hasn’t always been easy – even for a studious ‘know-it-all’ like myself. Thank you for being a constant shoulder to lean on… even if your parents were Slytherins, they clearly raised a wonderful girl.”

Daphne smiled at Hermione, then reached for one of the bags of chips. “I’ve never had these before… I guess we can all try one and see what they’re all about?” She popped the bag open, and popped one of the chips in her mouth. “Oooh, ooh, oooooh,” she said, waving her hand in front of her mouth. “This one’s got some kick to it.”

She then passed the bag to Hermione, who took a dainty nibble. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daph. They’re not much hotter than a banana pepper.”

Parvati grabbed a chip, and made a sharp hacking sound. “Merlin, that’s got more spice than Grandmother’s curry sauce!”

Finally, Lavender took her turn. Her face soon turned beet red, and plumes of smoke emerged from her ears. Even more distressing, a huge orange flame erupted from her mouth the second she parted her lips.

“Oh goodness! Are you okay, Lavender?” Daphne squeaked.

Lavender looked at Daphne like she had just grown a pair of antlers. “What do you bloody think, Daph? I’m not going to be able to taste anything for a month now!” She groaned, while her three roommates burst into laughter.

A few seconds later, Daphne scooped up the photos from the coffee table and giggled. “Oh, this is too cute.” She then passed Hermione the picture of Ana from last term, with her roommates Jillian and Sabrina.

“She must be Muggle-born then,” surmised Hermione. “I’m guessing she’s wearing contacts in her more recent photos.”

“Bingo,” squeaked Daphne as she looked at the second photo. “Nova must be at least a third-year,” she murmured, noting her more developed figure. “Beautiful girl for sure.” She then giggled at Tallulah, who placed the ‘devil horns’ behind Othniel’s head, and then her jaw dropped. The other boy with the dark messy hair and glasses and what looked to be a hint of a scar on his forehead seemed so familiar… no, it couldn’t be…

“What’s that all about, Daphne?” asked Hermione.

“That boy… Harry…” stammered Daphne, keeping her voice low. “I think that’s… Harry Potter.”

Chapter 52: Meddling With Mid-terms

Chapter Text

The next day was Thursday, and it was the last full day of class before the Ilvermorny students were to be dismissed for a fortnight. Ana had spent what precious little free time she had going over the material in all of Harry, Othniel, and Tallulah’s classes in the week leading up to the dreaded mid-term exams, which were by far the biggest tests to date.

After a filling breakfast, Ana wished her first year friends luck before they trudged to the castle basem*nt for Potions. For once, Harry felt reasonably confident about the mid-term exam as Ana had told him that this one was strictly a pen-and-paper test; he wouldn’t have to worry about any practical application until the end of year.

Harry, Othniel and Tallulah found their seats with several minutes to spare. On each student’s desk was a quill with a well of ink – ostensibly charmed to prevent academic fraudulence. Madam L sat behind her desk with an expressionless gaze on her face, interspersed with an occasional sip from her coffee mug. When the clock struck eight o’clock sharp, she stood to her feet and addressed the class thusly:

“All right, students, you’ve got one more day to get through, and then you’ll have a full two weeks to gorge yourselves silly and forget everything you’ve learned so far this term. Today’s mid-term examination consists of fifty multiple choice questions, fifteen fill-in-the-blank questions, and three essays – no fewer than one hundred words apiece. Are you with me so far, or do I need to use more monosyllabic words to make it easier for you armchair magicians to understand?”

Madam L nodded upon hearing a disjointed chorus of “Yes, Madam L”. She then picked up a quill from one of the unoccupied desks from the front row. “You will be using these charmed quills to complete your exams – they are designed to prevent cheating and other dishonest behavior.” She turned toward the clock on the wall behind her. “You will have precisely one hour to finish your mid-terms, which will begin on my count.”

She turned again to look at the clock and waited for the exact moment for the exams to begin. “…five, four, three…” She was cut off by a strange gurgling sound coming from her gut. “Jumping Jehoshaphat,” she grumbled as she made a hobbled dash toward the exit. “Wait here until I get back – and I’m warning you, no funny business – or else!”

Towards the back of the room, Replogle, Bungus and Madigan high-fived each other and snickered into their sleeves. “Can’t believe that worked,” Bungus chortled.

“What’d I tell ya?” gloated Replogle. “The old bat just leaves her morning coffee unattended until class starts. She’s had a bug up her ass so long, I figured a little laxative potion might help her with that.” He produced an empty glass phial, then turned to Madigan. “Now that the coast is clear, are you ready for the next phase of the master plan?”

Madigan produced a quill from under the sleeve of his golf shirt. “One sabotaged exam, coming right up!”

Replogle nodded his approval. “We’ll distract Scarhead, while you swap the quills. Now, hurry up and hunker down before anyone else gets suspicious.” Madigan got down and slithered his way to the front, while Replogle let out a loud, shrill whistle. “Hey, Scarhead,” he called out. “You dropped something on your way to class.” He held out an Astronomy book and waved it in the air.

Harry turned around to see what the commotion was about. As Harry made his way to the back to get a closer look, Madigan made a stealthy quill exchange – he had even checked to make sure that Othniel and Tallulah weren’t paying attention.

Meanwhile, Replogle handed the book to Harry. “Here you go, man,” he said. “Thought you’d like to have that back.”

Harry, confused, took a look at the book. It was an astronomy text for an older student he figured, as it wasn’t one that he was using that term. He then looked at the author – Erasmus Porter.

“What kind of idiot do you take me for? I’m a Potter, not Porter, numbskull,” Harry snarled at Replogle. “Besides, that’s the name of the author of this book – a book for a class I’m not even enrolled in this term!” He angrily thrust the book back to Replogle, who barely held off the urge to chortle.

“Uh, erm, sorry Scarhead. My mistake,” the beefy Thunderbird offered half-heartedly.

“Right,” groaned Harry as he returned to his seat.

As the clock approached a quarter after eight, Tallulah turned to Harry. “I wonder what’s wrong with Madam L…”

Harry shook his head. “I have no idea… this totally isn’t like her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s kinda nice not having her in the class, but we should have started a good ten minutes ago… that means we’ll be stuck in this room for at least ten minutes longer!”

“Preach it,” chimed in Othniel. “The sooner we start, the sooner we get this over with!”

About five minutes later, the door swung open followed by Madam L sweeping in with the a scowl so large, it might have fallen off her face if it was any bigger. “I don’t know if any of you miscreants were responsible for that little episode,” she grumbled, “but no matter. I have an exam to proctor, and come hell or high water, I will see this through! Again, you have one hour to complete your mid-terms, starting…” She took a quick glance at the wall clock once again. “… now!”

***

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, while most of the students headed for their dormitories to pack for their journeys home for the holidays, four first-year Gryffindor witches sat impatiently in their house head’s office. Daphne Greengrass, the de facto ‘leader’ of the outfit, sat in one of the middle seats directly across from Professor McGonagall, holding a smallish package in her hands.

Professor McGonagall took a small sip from her cup of Earl Grey tea. “Miss Greengrass,” she trilled, “if I’m hearing you correctly, you’re telling me that you know the wheareabouts of a certain Mister Harry Potter?”

Daphne nodded respectfully. “I believe I do, Professor. My pen pal, Anastasia, sent me this letter and these photos the other day… she specifically said one of her first year housemates is named Harry, and by looking at this recent photograph…” She pulled out the moving photograph with Ana, Nova, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah, and offered it to her professor. “I’m not one hundred percent positive, but I do think it’s likely that they’re one and the same… he does bear a strong resemblance to his father James Potter, whose photos are all over the trophy room, and if you look at him just right, you can make out a hint of a scar just below his hairline…”

Professor McGonagall put on her reading spectacles to read the letter, and examined the photograph with a discerning eye. Finally, she made a curt nod toward the girls. “Between you and me, Miss Greengrass, despite your friend Miss Harrison’s considerable intelligence, she was rather foolish to share that with you.” She sighed and took another sip of her tea. “That being said, I suppose I cannot fault the girl. While I’m sure she’s cultivated, I don’t think she’s truly attuned to British wizarding culture – if she was, she’d have thought twice before sending you that photo.”

Hermione then spoke up. “If it means anything, Professor, so far, we’ve kept our opinion to ourselves… we weren’t going to share with anyone else without your blessing – not even our housemates.”

“Thank Merlin you’ve got some sound heads on your shoulders,” replied McGonagall. “For now at least, I’d like for you to keep it that way.” She took another look at the photograph of five happy-go-lucky youngsters. “Yes, that is indeed Harry Potter.” The tiniest of grins dared to tug on her otherwise rigid lips. So handsome, she thought to herself. She then displayed the photo to Daphne, pointing at a pretty blonde teen. “Do you know who this lovely young lady is, Miss Greengrass?”

Daphne tilted her head a shade, but shook her head ‘no’. “I don’t know her personally, Professor, but from what Anastasia says, her name is Nova. I think she has connections to Magical Britain.”

“Her actual name is Anneliese, but you’re correct – she’s just as British as any of us. She was afforded the rare opportunity to choose between Ilvermorny and Hogwarts – same as Mister Potter,” McGonagall elaborated. “She’s the daughter of one of my former Lions, Roger Woodward. She ended up being raised by her bigoted grandparents, but to my simultaneous disappointment and relief, she elected to attend Ilvermorny. She must take after her father, as he was a staunch opponent of blood supremacy.”

McGonagall took another sip from her tea cup. “I’ll make you four a deal. If the four of you promise to maintain your silence on this matter until I say otherwise, I’ll do what I can to arrange a visit to Massachusetts during our Easter Break, so you can meet the Boy-Who-Lived, and the rest of your delightful Ilvermorny friends.” She could not fully suppress a grin. “Truth be told, it’s been ages since I’ve seen the lad… he may not remember me, but I was the one who delivered him to North America ten years ago!”

All four girls let out giddy, blissful squeals.

***

Back at Ilvermorny, Harry was enjoying a hearty stew for lunch with his housemates when he was startled by familiar snowy owl. “Hedwig!” he exclaimed, clearly not expecting to see her. “It’s good to see you again, pretty girl.” Hedwig plopped a rolled-up parchment next to Harry’s tray, made a soft cooing noise, and took off for the owlery, just as quickly.

Tallulah pointed a spoon at the parchment. “I wonder what that’s all about. It’s gotta be really important, for Hedwig to deliver in the middle of the day.”

Harry’s brow began to bead with sweat as he read the contents. The news wasn’t only unexpected, but utterly horrifying:

“Mister Potter,

I regret to inform you that Madam Lewandowski has given you a zero on this morning’s Potions mid-term exam, on account of cheating. This disappoints me greatly, as you have been consistently towards the top of your year so far this term.

We have made it abundantly clear since the beginning of term that we take academic dishonesty very seriously. I want you to meet both myself and the Potions Master in my office as soon as we are able, to discuss this further.

Sincerely,

Sen. Prof. L.E. Frye”

“Holy sh*t,” Harry breathed. “This can’t be real…”

Tallulah shook her head, bewildered. “What can’t be real?”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ve been accused of cheating on our Potions mid-term…”

“What?” screeched Tallulah. “No, that can’t be right… those quills were enchanted to prevent cheating. Something’s not adding up…”

Othniel shrugged. “Maybe you’ve been had… y’know, you got set up…”

Harry shifted his gaze. “You might be on to something there… dammit, that jerk!”

“Huh?” asked Othniel, his face scrunched in confusion.

Harry clenched his fists so tightly his fingernails cut into his palm. “Replogle… that idiot distracted me – he told me I dropped a book earlier, which clearly wasn’t mine – I’ll bet one of his goons must have switched quills when I wasn’t looking. That bastard! He’s going to pay for that…”

“Yeah, and Madam L looked like she had to go to the bathroom something fierce,” added Tallulah. “I’m wondering if one of those yahoos slipped some sort of magical Miralax in her coffee before class started…”

“What I’m going to do to those three… their mothers are going to cry for days when they see what I’ve done to their ‘innocent angels’,” Harry said, in a low, ominous growl.

“You’re scaring me, Harry,” bleated Tallulah. “Please don’t get your longjohns in a wad. Replogle and his goons are idiots, but it’s not worth doing anything to get arrested, or worse… expelled over. Remember – two wrongs don’t make a right. They’ll get their just due, I guarantee.”

Harry took a few deep breaths to try and regain his composure. “Sorry,” he panted. “It’s just that Replogle represents everything that’s wrong with the wizarding world, and nothing would satisfy me more than to personally knock him down a peg or two.”

Even Othniel looked taken aback. “Dude,” he commented. “You need to chill out, for real. You may get the better of Replogle at some point, but it’s not going to be today. You’ve already dug yourself a hole – using a shovel won’t get you out of it; you’ll only find that hole getting deeper. Right now, you remind me of your godfather, and not necessarily for the right reasons. If Sirius were here right now, you know what he’d say? He’d tell you to slow down and think, because exacting revenge without a sound game plan was what got him in all that trouble way back when! He doesn’t want you to end up like him – he knows you’re better than that.”

Harry hung his head. “I guess you guys are right… so, what should I do instead?”

“For starters,” replied Tallulah, “you need to march your sorry carcass into Professor Frye’s office, and tell them that you didn’t cheat. You need to be respectful, yet firm and convincing. I’d also tell them your theory about Replogle, Bungus and Madigan sabotaging your mid-term. Look Harry, I can’t promise it’ll work, but if it means anything, Othniel and I believe you. Shoot, I’ll bet we can even get Professor Lupin to vouch for you…”

Harry smiled weakly at his housemates. “Thanks, you two. I guess I’d better go on and get this over with…” With that, he clanked his silverware on top of his tray before getting up and leaving the mess hall, while Tallulah and Othniel silently wished him luck.

Chapter 53: The Make Up Exam

Chapter Text

As Harry made his way to Professor Frye’s office next to the Herbology classroom, any feelings of fear had all but vanished. Anger coursed through his veins like a fighter jet on the verge of breaking the sound barrier. He had become so consumed by rage that he practically pounded on the professor’s door, and paced back and forth as he waited for permission to enter. He clenched and unclenched his fists, unable to focus on anything or anyone besides his nemesis Replogle. For a split second, he wished he knew how to cast the Killing Curse, but was jarred back to reality when he heard his house head’s distinct voice: “Come in, Mister Potter.”

Harry closed his eyes, and took a series of deep breaths to calm himself before addressing Professor Frye and Madam L. Harry’s erratic behavior did not go unnoticed by Frye, who gave him a strange look. “Is everything all right, Mister Potter? You seem to be quite upset…”

“Upset?!” Harry parroted in a harsh, forceful tone. “Of bloody course I’m upset – wouldn’t you be a little miffed too, if you got blamed for something you didn’t do?” Both Professor Frye and Madam L gawked at Harry with stunned expressions, who regained his bearing before addressing them again. “I’m sorry for that outburst,” he continued in a softer, more apologetic tone. “It’s not either of you I have an issue with… but I have reason to believe that I was set up earlier this morning.”

Professor Frye nodded. “I’ll overlook your theatrics this once, young man. You’ve finally remembered your place, and I hope it doesn’t deviate from there going forward,” she said softly. “Gwendolyn?” She then motioned for Madam L to hand her Harry’s mid-term exam, and another mid-term exam taken by another student.

She gave Harry a stern look. “Your Potions exam is identical to that of Mister Madigan’s. I’m not sure what kind of stunt you pulled to bypass the charms placed on the quill and ink you were given prior to taken the exam, but I assure you that we don’t find this the least bit amusing.”

Harry, completely flabbergasted, barely resisted the urge to raise his voice again. “First of all, why aren’t you investigating Madigan too? And secondly, even if I did cheat, Madigan is about the last student I’d want to copy my answers from! He’s dreadful at potions!”

“Mister Madigan is a Thunderbird, so I must defer to Professor Goode,” sighed Frye. She turned to Madam L. “Now Gwendolyn, have you had any issues with Mister Potter, prior to this morning?”

“Mid-terms nonwithstanding, Mister Potter is a solid student,” admitted Madam L. “He’s shown that he can be a smart-aleck on occasion, but I’ve had no real complaints.” Harry tilted his head – did Madam L actually wink at him? “And he is absolutely right – Mister Madigan is rather on the daft side.”

Harry gulped before addressing the Potions master. “Erm, Madam L? I may be a bit off-base, but I think your coffee might have been spiked this morning…”

Frye and Madam L looked at each other, before returning their gaze toward Harry. “I figured something was up – nature usually doesn’t call at that time of day,” admitted Madam L. “Do you have any idea who might have done such a thing, Potter, and why?”

Harry nodded. “I think so… I think it was a diversion created by Replogle and his flunkies so he could try and sabotage my exam. Replogle distracted me for a few seconds while one of his stooges must have switched quills. I don’t have proof, but you might want to check all the quills if you haven’t already – I’m sure at least one of them was tampered with.”

Frye nodded at Madam L. “I’ll help you check for compromised quills in a bit.” She then offered Harry a faint smile. “While you’re not off the hook just yet, I would like to apologize for any trouble those miscreants might have caused. Again, while it’s Professor Goode’s call to make, I’d wager that all three of them will be serving many, many nights of detention, assuming your story and our findings align.”

“And what about the exam?” asked Harry. He let out a reluctant, airy sigh. “I have to take it again, don’t I?”

“We dismiss early tomorrow, so if you could report to my office immediately after breakfast, you may re-take the exam then,” advised Frye.

“And to be on the safe side, we’ll be administering a different written test,” added Madam L. She shook a long, crooked finger at Harry. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a good bit tougher than this morning’s exam. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“And what about Madigan?” asked Harry. “I hope he doesn’t get an opportunity to retake his exam.”

“You needn’t worry,” Madam L replied dismissively. “I assure you, I’ve notified the deputy headmistress the same as I did Professor Frye hours ago. Whatever course of action she chooses, is her decision and hers alone – I’m confident she’ll make the right choice, so let’s leave it at that.”

Frye smiled at Harry. “I think you should just relax with your friends this evening, Harry. There’s no point in getting stressed out over a subject you seem to know fairly well. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” She gestured for Harry to get up. “That’s all we’ve got until tomorrow. Now, off you go.”

***

The next morning at Hogwarts, Daphne sat in the Great Hall, bundled in a thick wool overcoat and earmuffs which preserved her immaculate French braid. She was adding the finishing touches to her letter to Anastasia when thud! Daphne looked up and saw a hardcover copy of Hogwarts: A History smack dab in front of her.

“You forgot Anastasia’s gift from upstairs, you big goof,” giggled Hermione. “It is a bit on the heavy side, so it might take more than one owl to carry… I’ll be honest, even a team of owls might not be interested in lugging a heavy tome across the Atlantic. If you want, I can post it Muggle-style on your behalf when I get home. Did she give you her personal address?”

Daphne opened her backpack, and quickly went through all of the letters she received from Ana. The first four or five letters yielded nothing, but as she approached the bottom of the stack, she let out a triumphant yelp. “Aha! 555 Ticonderoga Trail, South Bend, Indiana, United States.” She copied the address down on quill and parchment, and handed it to Hermione.

“Thank you,” squeaked Hermione. “If Anastasia is anything like me – which I’m sure she is – she’ll find this book positively fascinating. And I’ll include your name on the return label so she’s not confused.” She then glanced nervously at her housemate as she patted her halo braid to ensure it was staying in place. “I’m a little unsure about what my parents will think… you promise I look all right, Daph?”

Daphne offered her best friend a friendly smile. “You look positively lovely. Even when your hair’s a frizzy jungle, you’re a beautiful girl, Hermione. I’m not just saying that. I know your parents aren’t used to seeing you with your hair done up like that, but in the off chance they don’t fawn over how terrific you look, I’ll eat that other bag of spicy chips Anastasia sent us in one go.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, then a small snicker escaped from her mouth. “I’m not gonna lie, I kind of want to see you do it.”

“I was rather hoping to give these to Astoria as a bit of a prank,” replied Daphne with a shrug, “but I guess I’ve backed myself into a corner now, haven’t I?”

“Now whose fault is that?” giggled Hermione. “Now, let’s finish our breakfasts and get that letter of yours off to the owlery – we don’t have a lot of time before the carriages to Hogsmeade Station arrive.”

“So, where are Parvati and Lavender? I hope they’re almost done getting ready,” Daphne wondered aloud. “They don’t have much longer until breakfast is over.”

“Last I checked, they were coordinating outfits,” murmured Hermione with a small eye roll. “I’ve told them to hurry things up twenty minutes ago. If they miss breakfast and the ride back to Hogsmeade, they’ll have nobody to blame but themselves…”

Moments later, a pair of well-dressed girls plopped themselves down by Daphne and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. “Sorry for cutting it close,” sighed Parvati. “I hope we didn’t miss breakfast…”

“You literally had all evening to go through your respective wardrobes,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “You’re bloody lucky you still have a few minutes before we have to leave for Hogsmeade.”

“Sorry, Hermione,” Lavender offered. “But you should know how we roll by now!”

“Too right,” Hermione replied with a giggle. “But a little planning ahead never hurt anyone…”

About fifteen minutes later, once Parvati and Lavender finished their breakfasts, all four Gryffindor girls got up from their table and began making their way to the owlery so Daphne could drop off her letter to Anastasia. Daphne then led her housemates to the front of the castle, where numerous magical carriages awaited. Before the girls went their separate ways for the holiday break, they took several minutes to exchange gifts and say their goodbyes.

***

Later that day at Ilvermorny, Harry sat in Professor Frye’s office, taking his Potions mid-term for the second time. Madam L was right, he thought. Fewer multiple choice questions, and more essays. He took care to read each question as carefully as he could, and answered everything as best as he was able. About an hour after he started, he handed the test to his house head. “I’m finished, Professor,” he declared.

Frye nodded in satisfaction. “Very well, Mister Potter. I’ll take the exam to Madam L for immediate grading. Wait here, please. I’d wager it shouldn’t take much longer than fifteen minutes or so.”

Harry felt the butterflies in his stomach as he awaited the results of his test. He didn’t think he did horribly, but he wasn’t quite as confident as he was when he completed the first version the day before. He held his breath when the office door opened, and let out a silent sigh of relief when Frye handed him the results with a small smile on her face. “Well done, Mister Potter. Ninety one percent – just shy of an Outstanding.”

“I’ll take it,” replied Harry gratefully.

“I rather figured you would,” chuckled Frye. “Few in your year got above ninety percent on theirs. Again, I’m truly sorry you got caught up in yesterday’s mess. Giving you the benefit of the doubt would have been justified, but unfortunately we have to stick to our mandatory process of identifying and dealing with academic fraudulence. We didn’t mean to make you feel singled out – it’s simply a formality. I hope you understand.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Between you and me, I hope I never have to go through that again.” He let out another sigh. “Replogle, Madigan and Bungus have been on my case since September, ever since I stuck up for Tallulah. It’s just that I don’t like bullying – in my experience, if a bully pushes, you need to push back. Don’t get me wrong – I’m glad they’ve more or less left her alone since then, but over the past month or so, they stopped harassing me physically and have started resorting to more underhanded ways of giving me trouble.”

“The wizarding world can be just as cruel and unfair as the no-maj world, Harry,” admitted Frye. “Sometimes even more. I know Professor Goode has gotten on to them in the past about physical altercations, so they’re trying to circumnavigate her warnings by using less obvious tactics, such as what happened yesterday.”

“I feel sorry for Professor Goode,” Harry murmured. “I get the feeling that she wants to do more, but as those three belong to Old Money families, she can’t punish them like other students without getting threats of losing her job.”

Frye pursed her lips and nodded, knowing the feeling all-too-well herself. “I’ve been teaching since before you were born, and I’ve been threatened by more than one irate parent. It… just sort of goes with the territory of being an Ilvermorny faculty member.” She offered Harry another smile. “It’s students like you that make teaching worthwhile – not only are you strong in the classroom, but you stick up for students that can’t stick up for themselves.” She let out a soft chuckle. “All right, young man. Unless there’s anything else you need from me, I suppose it’s time you returned upstairs and finish getting ready, as the carriages will be leaving the castle in just a couple of hours. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas break, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Sounds good, Professor,” replied Harry. “Happy holidays.”

Chapter 54: The Phone Call

Chapter Text

The chilly, foggy December air and overcast skies of northern Indiana could not dampen Ana’s spirits. She could readily admit that she missed the mundane aspects of her old non-magical life – the home-cooked meals, overhearing the silly gossip between her sister Nell and her circle of friends, and perhaps more than anything – looking into the pleading, soulful amber eyes of Roscoe, her faithful golden retriever.

Two days after Christmas, an unexpected rapping at the front door - followed by a series of howls from Roscoe - interrupted Ana from her studies. She groggily made her way downstairs to see what the fuss was about. To her mild surprise, the local mail carrier stood by the doorway, holding a strangely-marked package. “G’mornin’, young lady. I take it you’re Anastasia Harrison?”

“That’s me, all right,” replied Ana with a yawn.

The mail carrier chuckled. “Got a little something from merry old England for you. I’m afraid it’s not going to fit in the mailbox, so I figured it would be best to try and deliver it in person.”

I wonder if that’s from my pen pal Daphne, thought Anastasia as she took the box. It was certainly a bit on the heavy side, as the unexpected weight caused her arms to droop. “Thanks,” she squeaked. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you as well, miss,” the mail carrier replied. He tilted his cap before turning around and plodding on the freshly-fallen snow on the sidewalk.

Ana took the parcel to her room and analyzed the unfamiliar handwriting. It was addressed to “Miss Anastasia Harrison, 555 Ticonderoga Trail, South Bend Indiana, USA”. The block-style lettering – while neat and legible – was clearly far different than Daphne’s own calligraphy, which was a beautiful loopy cursive.

Her eyes widened somewhat when she read the return label – it was sent by Hermione Granger as opposed to Daphne, but she grinned when she saw Daphne’s name in parenthesis underneath Hermione’s name. That was nice of Hermione to send this on Daphne’s behalf, thought Ana as she opened the gift. She let out a delighted squeal when she pulled the lid off the box which contained Hogwarts: A History and another book on Magical Britain. “This is perfect – I’ve wanted to learn more about Hogwarts ever since I found out I was a witch,” she murmured to herself. She then found a note – Hermione must have written this from home as it was clearly not parchment, and the ink more closely resembled the type used in ballpoint pens as opposed to quills, she figured.

“21 December 1991

Dear Anastasia,

Hiya! In case you didn’t already know, I’m Daphne’s friend and roommate, Hermione Granger. She wanted to send this to you because from what she’s told me, you have a bit of a fascination with Hogwarts, and we thought that this should whet your appetite – there’s a lot of neat history in here. I offered to send it to you on her behalf as I thought it would be more efficient to send it using Muggle means than by owl (she actually agreed with me there). There should be a second book on British wizarding history that’s not necessarily Hogwarts-centric but I’m sure you’ll find it worth your while just the same.

Thank you for sending those delightful treats, by the way. The puckerberry jelly roll and slice of Pukwudgie pie were quite tasty, and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t have a big sweet tooth (though I do like fruit – especially fresh berries). I made sure my slice of pie was small as I do have to be careful about what I do eat due to the nasty hardware I’ve got on my teeth, which I’ve got to wear for nearly two more years. I can’t wait for them to come off – both my parents and friends say that I’m going to have a positively gorgeous smile. I hope they’re right!

Daphne sent you a letter as well – I’m not sure if you’ve already received it or not – but I just thought I’d give you a heads-up just in case. She says that you might be coming to Scotland to compete in the Interscholastic Quiz Bowl competition in the spring – I’m sure you’re going to perform brilliantly! As it stands, it looks more and more likely that Slytherin is going to represent our school (between you and me, they’re just cheating scum – they can’t win anything fair and square if their lives depended on it). I’d be very happy for you if Ilvermorny wins – I wish you the best of luck! Until then, I wish you a happy New Year.

With love from the UK,

Hermione”

Ana spent the next several hours reading her new book, finding herself spellbound by the stories of the school’s four founders, about the use of house-elves in the kitchens, and even some terrifying tales about the Triwizard Tournaments of old.

After a couple of hours, she put Hogwarts: A History away for the time being, and picked up the second book that came with the package. About an hour into the book, she straightened herself up from her lull, and did a double-take - did this book just mention Harry?

She always suspected that Harry Potter was known to British wizarding society, but before then she had never seen him referenced in print before. She felt the goosebumps on her arms as she read about how Harry got the famous scar on his forehead. Although this wasn’t anything she didn’t already know, it was just surreal seeing this information in a book, as if her one of her best friends’ stories had been chronicled by a biographer.

***

That evening, after dinner, Ana had gotten permission from her parents to give Harry a call. “If memory serves, Surrey is three hours behind me,” she thought as she punched the digits on the receiver. “So it should be just before dinner for them.”

A few seconds later, an unfamiliar British accent answered the phone. “This is Rhonda Woodward speaking. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Hi there,” replied Ana. “I’m Anastasia Harrison, one of Harry’s friends from school. Is he able to talk for a little bit?”

“Well hello, Anastasia,” purred Rhonda. “It’s been a while. How have you been? I take it you’ve been enjoying your time off away from school?”

“I needed some family time a lot more than I was willing to admit,” said Ana. “It’s good to be home for sure. I hope Harry’s had a good Christmas.”

Ana could practically hear Rhonda’s chuckling from the other end. “Oh, he’s had a delightful Christmas. I think he’s upstairs – if you’ll hold on for a just a minute or so, I’ll go and fetch him.”

“Thanks,” breathed Ana as she waited for Harry to pick up the phone. It wasn’t a long wait – perhaps a minute at the most, when she heard an excited cry from what must have been upstairs, followed by a nervous-sounding greeting a few seconds after that.

“Erm, hello?” Harry said. “Ana, is that you?”

“No, it’s Santa Claus,” giggled Ana. “Of course it’s me, you goofy boy. How are you doing? I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time…”

“Not at all,” Harry replied. “I was wondering when you’d be calling. I’ve been just here with my family for the most part. Did you have a good Christmas?”

“I think so,” Ana said. “Most of the gifts I got were fine – cash, clothes, books – y’know, the usual. What about you? Did you get anything special? Since some of your family’s magical, I can’t help but wonder if you got anything unique.”

Harry burst into laughter. “Funny you should ask. Most of my gifts were non-magical, but my godfather got me this broomstick. I think it’s called a Matador. He says it’s one of the fastest models out there – quidditch seekers from Latin America swear by it. He’s already taken me to Diurn Alley to let me test it out, and let me tell you, it’s nothing like the brooms we use at school. I’ll probably get a couple more chances to practice with it before I have go to back. I’ll need to spend all summer flying if I’m going to try out for seeker next year! Oh, and I finally got to try on this special silver cloak that my aunt and uncle held for me for several years. It’s… brilliant. I’ll at least get to take that to school – I can’t really describe it over the phone – I’ll just have to show you.”

Ana’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Those sound like amazing gifts, Harry. I can’t wait to see that cloak.” She snickered into the receiver. “As for me, I got a most unexpected gift from Wizarding Britain – a package arrived for me just this morning, actually. One of Daphne’s friends mailed it to me a few days ago saying it would be more efficient to send it no-maj style… and let me tell you, it’s the most perfect gift. I’ll bet you can’t guess what they sent.”

“I’unno… your very own Hogwarts uniform?” Harry replied, not really sure what someone from Magical Britain would want to send Ana.

“No, but I wouldn’t turn that down either,” giggled Ana. “Daphne and her friends got me a couple of books. The first is Hogwarts: A History, and the other one is a smaller, more generic book on British wizarding history. And you’re not going to believe this – you’re in it!”

Harry blinked. “Wait, whaaaa?”

“Yeah, you’re mentioned in the British wizarding history books,” confirmed Ana. “I mean, between what I’ve heard from you and Nova is one thing, but seeing you mentioned – and prominently at that – it’s almost like I’m talking to the magical world’s version of a movie star.”

Harry let out a groan. “I’m just Harry from Surrey – I’m the same boy you met in Nessel Road a few months ago.” Another, more concerning thought popped into his head. “I wonder if your friend Daphne knows I go to school with you.”’

“Of course you are,” Ana said sweetly. “And I’d imagine it’s safe to assume that she does, even though she hasn’t explicitly asked me yet.”

“And what are you going to tell her if she does ask?” Harry inquired with a hint of irritation in his voice. “I don’t want a bunch of magical Limey girls sending me fanmail that I won’t have time to answer… Lord have mercy, Nova is bad enough on her own!”

Ana burst into giggles. “Goodness gracious, Harry, would you relax already? Nova likes to tease you from time to time, but she thinks the world of you. And I don’t think Daphne’s the kind of girl that would hound you – but in the event that she does bring you up, I’ll just tell her the truth, while making it clear that you want your privacy respected. And I’m sure she’d have no problem with that.” She then proceeded to mock-lecture Harry. “As far as Limey, Harry… that wasn’t very nice. And ironic since you’re English yourself!”

“I’m Canadian,” Harry retorted defiantly. “And proud of it! My heritage is English, along with Irish and Welsh…”

“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Ana offered gently. “You’re lucky you moved to Greater Vancouver as you don’t have to deal with the celebrity that goes with being the Boy-Who-Lived. You’re just a first-year Horned Serpent to most of Ilvermorny, but to lots of magical British girls like Daphne, well… you’re a bona fide rock star!”

This time it was Harry’s turn to laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not going to lie, I’m glad that I got to escape Magical Britain because I’m not sure I can handle the fame that goes with being the Boy-Who-Lived. And while Daphne might respect my privacy, there’s probably a bunch of other girls that won’t leave me alone until I take them out for a date! I’m not ready for that sort of thing!”

“You didn’t ask for any of the terrible things that happened when you were a baby,” continued Ana. “You may be growing up without your birth parents, but you’re not growing up unloved.” She then burst into high-pitched chortles. “And Nova can be a stinker sometimes. You know she likes do say and do things that get your goat.”

“Case in point – her shoving me into you under the mistletoe,” groaned Harry.

Ana rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. If she likes keeping her face as soft as a baby’s behind, she won’t be doing anything like that again.”

“I talked to her the next day,” admitted Harry. “She says she felt rotten for doing it, and she felt bad for calling you, y’know, a mudblood.”

“She apologized to me as well,” Ana said. “I told her it wasn’t a big deal, but she went on for about ten minutes about how horrible she felt… I felt obligated to let her say her piece, but sometimes I think she forgets the cultural differences between North America and Great Britain.”

She checked her wristwatch. “Oh, Harry, I gotta get going, we’ve been on the phone for about a half hour already. I really had a good time catching up with you – I can’t wait to see you at the castle in a few days. I want you to enjoy the rest of your break, and I hope you have a happy New Year. Bye!”

“Yeah, I think dinner isn’t too far off,” replied Harry. “I enjoyed talking to you too, Ana. You clearly needed some time back home – it sounds like it’s done you some good. I hope you have a happy New Year as well, and I’ll see you back at the castle. Bye!”

Chapter 55: The Reflecting Pool

Chapter Text

And just like that - New Year’s Day had come and gone; it was finally time for Harry to return to the castle to start up the second half of his first term. Although Harry enjoyed his time with his aunt, uncle and godfather in Surrey, he was beginning to feel the itch to return to school so he could spend time with his friends.

Around eight thirty Sunday evening, Harry, Anastasia, Othniel and Tallulah were gathered in the Horned Serpent common room, going into detail about how their respective holiday breaks went. Ana couldn’t help but grin like the schoolgirl that she was when she held up a pair of history books from Magical Britain. To Harry’s relief, she made no mention of Harry being referenced in the British history book, but did offer Tallulah a chance to read over them once she had finished.

“So Harry, what’s this special garment you were aching to show me again?” she asked with big, innocent eyes.

“Erm…” Harry drew his lips into a straight, thin line. “I don’t think it’s something I should be showing you, right here at least. Maybe we could go to the choir room where it’s a bit more private?”

Ana nodded. “Lead the way.”

Harry grabbed the box which contained the cloak, and beckoned for his friends to follow him downstairs. Once they were in the choir room, Harry double-checked to see if anyone might be lurking nearby, before pulling the lid off the thin cardboard box. He deftly pulled the silvery material with both hands, letting it hang down in front of him.

“Oh, that’s very lovely,” murmured Ana, as she let her fingers run on the silvery material. “It looks like it’s a little large still, but you’ll grow.”

Harry flashed a grin reminiscent of a Cheshire cat. He draped the cloak over his shoulders, and all three of his friends gasped in awe – everything below Harry’s neck was rendered completely invisible!

“Who gave that to you?” gasped Tallulah.

“It’s something my godfather brought with him when he left Magical Britain over five years ago,” answered Harry. “It used to belong to my father, and Sirius – along with my aunt and uncle – have all kept it safe for me ever since.”

“That’s flippin’ brilliant,” added Othniel. “D’you mind if I try it sometime?”

“Sometime,” agreed Harry, “but not right now. My aunt, uncle and godfather told me to save it for something special. It’s extremely valuable, like probably more than ten no-maj luxury cars.”

“Something special?” repeated Tallulah. “What d’you reckon they mean by that?”

Harry shrugged. “I asked them the same thing, but Sirius simply told me – ‘you’ll know’.”

Harry then opened the cloak. “I wonder how many of us it can hold; it’s pretty roomy. Othniel, you wanted to try it, so get over here and huddle close.” Othniel practically yelped for joy as he nestled himself next to Harry inside the cloak. “Okay, that’s a little too close, man,” Harry groaned. “We still have a good bit of room. Ana, would you like to try it?”

Ana smiled and nodded, and huddled with the two boys inside the cloak. Harry then nodded toward Tallulah. “All right, ‘Lu. There’s just a bit of room left – it may or may not hold all four of us, but we might as well find out.” He opened the cloak once again to let Tallulah inside it. “Blast it,” Harry spat as he noticed that it couldn’t quite cover all four children up. “It looks like three’s about all it can hold. Sorry, Tallulah.” He then opened the cloak to let his friends out.

Tallulah just smiled. “Don’t be sorry, Harry. I think it’s better we find this out now, than to figure it out on the fly in the event of an emergency!”

“I s’pose it’s probably time we start moseying on back upstairs,” said Othniel. “We don’t have all that much time before lights out.”

***

Back upstairs in the Horned Serpent boys’ dormitories, Harry was looking forward to the comforts of his four poster. The train ride back to the castle was long and tiresome, not to mention it was hard to sleep in his compartment with all the sudden twists and bumps. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep after lights out, but his night would be anything but restful.

Not long after he drifted out of consciousness, he felt a force yanking him to his feet. He looked around him – he wasn’t in his bedroom, but rather in a strange, dimly-lit passageway with a mildly unpleasant, musty odor. He looked under his feet – the pathway was cobblestone, with occasional patches of lime-green moss. The air was on the cool side, and thick with moisture.

He looked around himself to try to figure out where he was, why he was there, how he even got there, but he was startled from his thoughts by a sharp jab in the small of his back. “Go on, boy,” a strange voice commanded. It didn’t sound particularly menacing – it was a rather high-pitched, ratty-sounding creak. Harry took a few slow, tentative steps forward, but made a sidways glance to try and identify his captor. To his disappointment and dismay, it wasn’t a very good look; all he could tell was that the man was short – not all that much taller than Harry – and carried a long yew wand that seemed far too large for his short, stubby fingers to properly grasp. He also wore a black cowl over his face, ostensibly to prevent Harry from identifying him.

“Keep going,” the masked assailant demanded in his whiny voice. Harry pressed on in the same methodical manner. He kept his head on a swivel, trying to find something – anything – to distract or disarm the strange kidnapper. He silently cursed to himself as there was nothing but cold, hard rock for as far as he could see.

The masked man compelled Harry to keep going down the passageway, and down a long, winding staircase which culminated in an elliptical room. The only landmark of note was a small pool near the center of the chamber. “Look into the pool of reflection,” the masked man commanded, jabbing his wand in Harry’s back again. “Look into it, and tell me what you see.” He gave Harry a bit of a rough shove with his other hand, and Harry staggered toward the shallow pool.

The water – or some sort of aqueous substance – seemed to glow. It wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the chamber, but at least Harry could see enough. It was fairly shallow – no more than a half-meter in depth – and clear enough that Harry could see the smooth granite bottom. “I just see myself… my reflection,” he said in a soft voice.

“No, no, no,” the masked man yelped impatiently. “This is an enchanted pool, you foolish boy. Only one who is sufficiently pure of heart is able to obtain the Orb of Exuberance. Now, try again before I add to your scar collection…” He swirled his wand in the air a few times, then pointed it down at the pool. A flash of whitish-blue light emitted from the wand’s tip, and the glowing water began to steam.

“I will not ask you again – look into the pool, Harry, and tell me what you see.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, and did as he was commanded. He looked into the pool, and watched his own reflection melt away. Seconds later, the reflections of two young adults appeared in the pool. The man looked much like Harry, with the same type of glasses and dark messy hair. The other was an attractive woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and brilliant green eyes – much like Harry’s own.

“Mum? Dad?” Harry whispered at the reflections. There was something difference about his voice this time – was he speaking in a British accent, as if he’d never left Magical Britain?

His father smiled and nodded, while his mother Lily spoke in a soft, gentle tone. “Harry… oh Harry, it’s really you! Our hearts have been aching to see you again… you were but a wee toddler when we last saw you; you’re growing into a talented and handsome young man…”

“We’re proud of you, Harry,” added his father, James. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be there for your hockey games, or your first day at Ilvermorny, but we have no regrets. You’ve had a happy childhood…”

Harry sniffled. “Yeah, I’ve had a very happy childhood. I would have loved for you to be there too, but Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda raised me as if I were their own. And Sirius has been nothing short of awesome…”

The tearful reunion was interrupted by a sharp, impatient growl. “Well, Harry?”

“It’s my parents,” Harry replied in his usual Canadian accent. It was a soft and wistful tone, as if Harry were talking to himself more than to his captor. “I need another minute, if you don’t mind.”

His captor let out a reluctant growl. “Oh, very well… get on with it, boy.”

Harry turned back to the reflecting pool. He looked at the pleasant expressions on his parents’ faces. “Is there anything I can do to bring you back?” he asked earnestly, again in a posh Southern English accent. “Anything at all? I miss you…” He began to sob openly.

“Nothing of this world can bring us back,” began Lily, but something about the quality of her voice sounded a bit different. A little hollower, a little deeper.

“However, the power of the Orb of Exuberance can restore us to life for three days,” continued James. “And each mortal soul you claim with the Orb will buy us another day.” The strange reverberation in his voice shook Harry to his core – the tears quickly retreated as his eyes widened with fear. “Use the Orb to avenge us, Harry! Destroy the Dark Lord, and the one who betrayed us! Only you are powerful enough to wield the supernatural artifact, created from the forges of the Burning Hells!”

“No,” Harry said softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I… I can’t. The price of using the Orb is too great, even if it means I can never see you again…”

“Do it!” both Lily and James commanded in such a forceful way that the very chamber itself began to shake. “If you love us, you must avenge us!”

Harry slowly backed away from the pool, tears again forming in his eyes. “I do love you,” he whispered. “But this isn’t how any child should honor their parents’ memories.” He blinked, and found both hands grasping the fabled Orb. For a moment, he was drawn to the silvery-white clouds swirling in a deep cerulean sphere, but forced himself to look away.

“Heh heh heh heh,” cackled the masked captor. “Just as I thought – the great Harry Potter is indeed fit to wield the legendary Orb. Now, hand me the wand, and I’ll make sure you and your future children shall not want for anything.”

Harry contemplated turning the wand over to the man in the cowl, but just as he was about to hand it over, he had a change of heart and retracted at the last second. “I… can’t. Don’t you get it? This wand is cursed! It only causes misery for the people that use it, and those that they target with it! It needs to be destroyed…”

“Idiot boy,” growled the cowled man. “What do you know of power? Of sacrifice? Of pain? This is the last time I shall ask cordially - hand me the wand. You do want peace in both the magical and non-magical worlds, right? If so, do the right thing, and give it to me. I will make it where there will be no more wars.”

“No,” snapped Harry. “Forget about wealth and power already! I'm telling you, the wand is cursed – it’s going to kill you! Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow – but it will be the end of you eventually! I don’t care what you do to me, but you’re going to regret this day if you take the wand and fail to destroy it!”

“Accio, orb!” barked the masked man as he pointed his long yew wand at the unholy artifact. The orb was quickly torn from Harry’s grasp and landed in his captor’s free hand. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha,” he cackled. “At long last, I have sole possession of the most powerful wand in all creation,” he said to himself gloatingly. He then turned to Harry and sneered. “As for you, Harry Potter, I gave you the opportunity of handing me the Orb of your own accord. I will have to teach you a lesson in obedience…” He lowered the Orb at Harry, and whispered, “Crucio.”

A pair of scarlet lighting-like bolts forked towards Harry at dizzying speeds. Harry tried to use his limited skills of wandless magic to block it, or even try to soften the effects, but to no avail. He found himself on his knees, feeling a searing pain he had never felt before. He screamed in agony, while his captor laughed and laughed. “Scream as loud as you want, Harry… nobody is going to save you!”

His captor broke off the attack momentarily. Although Harry was in pain, he was able to stand to his feet to face the cowled man again. “Oh, that is but a taste of the power the Orb,” he squealed. “I’m going to savor every moment. Now, on your knees, boy!” He lowered the Orb, and again, the same red energy flew towards Harry. Although he was already in a great deal of pain, the intensity of the Cruciatus curse actually increased. Harry screamed so loudly that his lungs began to burn, while puffs of smoke came from his clothes.

His captor took a single step forward. “I suppose you’d like to know the identity of the man who’s behind the mask,” he taunted. “Get a good look while you can, Harry, as it’s the last face you’ll ever see…” He ripped his cowl off, and…

“Peter Pettigrew,” Harry mouthed. His words were practically inaudible as his seared organs were on the verge of failure. “You should have died a long time ago…” He tried to use the memory of his parents as fuel to get up and attack his assailant, but he was in such agony that even breathing was a laborious chore.

“Yesssss,” Pettigrew hissed. “The Secret Keeper who betrayed your parents, then went into hiding for ten years.” He cackled ominously. “It it’s any consolation, once I use the Orb to end the Potter line, I shall use it to end the Slytherin bloodline once and for all. I’ll personally ensure that Voldemort’s failure is absolute… and permanent. He was too weak to conquer Magical Britain, and too stupid to divine the location of the Orb. With the most powerful wand in creation in my hands, I shall succeed where he has failed…” He then sneered at Harry. “In the meantime, I shall enjoy watching you die… goodbye, Harry Potter… AVADA KEDAVRA!”

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaugh!”

Harry jolted upright in his bed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

All three of his roommates woke up and rushed to him. “Are you okay, dude? That scream sounded, I’unno, like someone was trying to kill you or something,” Othniel said.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened in my dream,” panted Harry. “I’ve had a few of them this term, but this was the worst one, and most life-like one to date…”

“D’you need to go to the infirmary tomorrow or something?” suggested Quentin.

“No,” Harry answered grimly. “I need to talk to Professor Lupin. He told me to come to him if I have more of these nightmares… in fact, I need to write as much down now before I forget. It’s too important not to tell him.”

Jeremy, their other roommate, rolled over on his bed and covered his head with a pillow. “Keep it down, guys,” he said in a muffled voice from under his pillow. “It’s nearly two in the morning – some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Our Defense professor?” Quentin replied in a softer voice, full of skepticism. “I don’t think he’s qualified to interpret dreams, but if he offered…”

“I don’t think he specializes in dream interpretation, but I know he can help. Plus he can consult Professor Haatali, who out of all the faculty at Ilvermorny, might have the most insight,” mused Harry. “He’s the Shamanism teacher, and he can do things most regular witches and wizards can’t.”

Quentin nodded. “I see. Well, good luck, Harry. I’m going to try and go back to bed. See you two in the morning.”

“Harry, could you tell me at least some of what happened in your dream? I won’t be able to, y’know… interpret it, but if it’ll help get things off your shoulder, I’m here to listen,” offered Othniel.

Harry shrugged, and told Othniel what he could.

Othniel just blinked a few times. “That’s… heavy, Harry. Like I said, I don’t know the significance of that dream, but I think you’re right… you need to owl Professor Lupin first thing in the morning. It’s not that I don’t trust our other teachers, but ever since we spent Thanksgiving together, I feel a bit more ease with him for some reason.”

“That makes two of us,” chuckled Harry.

Chapter 56: Never Underestimate Shamanism

Chapter Text

Monday was a bit of a struggle for Harry – even the charmed pizza bites Professor Esposito provided for her History of Magic lecture weren’t enough for him to completely keep his concentration. Although he didn’t nod off, he was easily distracted and often struggled to follow along and take notes. Even Tallulah noticed Harry’s uncharacteristic behavior and felt obligated to say something after everyone was dismissed from History.

“Are you all right, Harry?” she asked in a concerned tone. “You don’t look like you’ve slept well – your hair’s even shaggier than usual, and your eyes look dark and heavy.”

Harry sighed. “I had a horrible dream last night… I dreamed that Peter Pettigrew held me hostage and forced me to look into this pool of reflection…” His voice trailed off, and it sounded like he began to choke up. “I saw my parents in the pool. I was able to talk to them – but for some reason I sounded as if I had never left Magical Britain. They told me how proud they were of me, and how much they missed me… but something didn’t sound quite right. They told me to use the Orb to avenge their deaths, but I refused. The whole room shook like there was an earthquake, and the Orb somehow ended up in my hands… the man who held me hostage turned out to be Peter Pettigrew – the one who betrayed my parents - and he forced the Orb out of my hands, and began to torture me with it. It was so dreadful, and just as he was about to kill me with it, that’s when I woke up…”

Tallulah tilted her head. “I’m not Sigmund Freud, but that’s not a normal dream. And that’s not the first time you’ve had a dream like that, is it?”

“No… I’ve had a few before, but none as intense as this one,” admitted Harry in a low voice. “This one seemed to be so much more real… it’s so bad that I’m almost afraid to fall asleep now.”

“You need to talk to someone about this – the sooner, the better,” advised Tallulah. “Someone a lot wiser than me, at least.”

Harry nodded. “I wrote a note to Professor Lupin this morning at breakfast. I didn’t put a lot of details in it, but I did jot as much as I can remember so we can discuss it in person later on. He told me to come to him the next time I had a dream like that.”

“Yes, please talk to Professor Lupin – he’s a good resource to have,” agreed Tallulah. “I know he’ll do whatever he can to help you. That man cares a great deal about you.”

“I look up to him just like my uncle or my godfather,” Harry murmured. “And while it’s nice having another connection to my parents, he also doesn’t play favorites. He cares about all his students. We’re really lucky to have him.”

A couple of minutes later, the three children took their seats across from Ana at the Horned Serpent table, who was holding a partially-eaten apple in one hand, and a paperback novel in the other. She scarcely noticed her friends through the commotion, until a sudden greeting interrupted her from her book.

“Hey there, Ana!”

Ana’s slightly-startled expression changed to a friendly smile. “Oh, hiya Harry! How are you?”

“Ask me again when we’re done for the day,” chuckled Harry. He co*cked his head and pointed at the book she was reading. “Grace Fisk of Caliphee… never heard of it. Is it any good?”

“It’s a pretty fun read,” Ana said. “It’s one of my Christmas presents. It’s a fantasy novel… it’s about this ordinary girl named Grace from Dubuque, Iowa who inadvertently activates a portal in a treehouse across the street from the public library. Like total dunderheads, she and two of her classmates defy all common sense and enter the rift and end up on a magical world called Caliphee. Grace has no idea that she’s a witch in this world, and she’s not just any witch – she’s been prophesied to harness the power of the Four Elements and defeat a world-conquering warlord named Belphegor, who siphons magical essence from the worlds he invades.” She then burst into giggles. “Oh, and you’re not going to believe this… Grace meets this apprentice witch named Anastasia – gee, what are the odds – and this Anastasia isn’t just any witch; she’s apprenticed to Archmage Aloysius, who’s the head of the Conclave. That’s the castle where all of Caliphee’s magically-inclined beings reside.”

Harry simply shook his head. “That sounds vaguely familiar…” Ana just shrugged, and continued with her novel, while Harry, Othniel and Tallulah started gnawing on their sandwiches and carrot sticks.

***

Harry was grateful that his only remaining class for the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. He did his best to stay alert and focused during the lecture – partly out of respect to Professor Lupin, but partly due to Defense being his favorite class. When class ended, Professor Lupin asked Harry to stay behind for a moment. Harry told Othniel and Tallulah to go on without him, and that he’d catch up with them momentarily.

After the last of the students had left the lecture hall, Lupin shut the door and cast a muffliato spell to prevent any eavesdroppers from listening in. “I got your note this morning, Harry,” he said. “It’s been some time since you’ve last had such a vivid dream. Tell me, do they only occur at the castle? From what you’ve told me so far, they don’t seem to be occurring when your with your aunt and uncle.”

“The only ones I know of happen in the Horned Serpent tower,” replied Harry. “To my knowledge, I’ve never had any of these nightmares anywhere else.”

“Perhaps it’s due to the proximity of the Orb,” surmised Lupin. “It may be speaking to you subconsciously. I can’t say for certain, as I’m neither clairvoyant nor an oneirocritic.” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “I may have to consult my associate, Professor Haatali. In the meantime, I need for you to tell me as much as you can from last night’s dream.”

“I can do you one better,” Harry said as he pulled out a folded parchment. “I wrote down everything I could shortly after waking up from my nightmare.” He handed the paper to Lupin, who hummed in acknowledgement.

“That’s interesting that it was Peter Pettigrew that was your captor. And he pulled his mask off before he cast the killing curse, is that right? What did he look like, in your dream?”

Harry tapped into his memory banks. “Well, he was kind of a squat man. He was not all that much taller than Ana or myself – I’d say he’s at most, five feet, four inches – but he probably weighed close to both of us put together. His hair was reddish-brown and on the longer side. It’s unkempt and it looked like there might be hints of grey – it also looked like he’s got this bald spot which he tried to cover up. And his facial features… I guess you can kind of describe them as being rat-like, as he had yellow, scrunchy eyes, a prominent, pointy nose, and his front teeth were rather pointed and kind of protruded a bit. He’s not at all handsome like you, Roger, or Sirius, that’s for sure.”

Lupin nodded, clearly impressed that Harry was able to describe his former friend in such detail despite never formally meeting him. “Yes, that does sound like Peter. Truth be told, he was rather hard to look at even ten years ago, even though none of us would ever tell him.”

“So what does this mean, then?” asked Harry. “I’ve never met Peter before in my life, but if he looks like how you remember him… it’s more than mere coincidence, wouldn’t you think?”

“It means,” chuckled Lupin, “that you need to be patient. I’ll research what I can, and I’ll make it a point to speak with Professor Haatali to get his opinion on the matter. Chances are, you won’t have another dream like that tonight, but I can provide a sleeping draught if you’d feel better taking one. Also, let me know if the frequency of these strange dreams increases significantly.”

“All right,” sighed Harry. “How long d’you think it’ll be before you get back with me?”

“As long as it takes,” Lupin replied with a small shrug. “Probably a few days. Professor Haatali may ask to see you as well. In the meantime, if you continue to experience these nightmares, do exactly as you did last night and write everything down that you can remember.”

“Will do,” agreed Harry. “And I think I’ll take you up on your offer of a sleeping potion this evening. It was a bit of a struggle to focus in class today, and I’d feel better knowing I’d get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

Lupin smiled. “All right, Harry. Why don’t you see me in my office after dinner – I should have a potion ready by then.”

Harry waved good-bye to his professor and hurried his way upstairs to join his friends.

***

The following morning, Harry got a note from Hedwig while having breakfast with his housemates. His eyes widened with wonder as he unfurled the parchment – he wasn’t expecting a response from Professor Lupin so soon, but he was glad to hear from him regardless:

“Dear Harry,

First of all, thank you for trusting me with something so personal as sharing the details of a bad dream. I’ve gone over every last detail you’ve provided, and while I can’t definitively link them to the Orb of Exuberance, it does give me pause.

I’ll be meeting with our esteemed Shaman, Professor Joseph Haatali later today. He may request to speak with you at some point – he may come across as a little… intimidating, but you have my assurance that he’s as honorable as he is wise. I’ll gladly be present for you if you feel more comfortable having me in the room.

Joe is a very busy man, so it probably will be closer to the end of the week before he can see you. I will let you know for sure within the next day or so.

I hope the sleeping draught helped you at least a little bit last night. They are supposed to induce a deep, dreamless sleep – but if these dreams are indeed caused by the Orb, it’s possible that even a sleeping draught cannot prevent these nightmares.

I’ve taken the liberty to secure a restricted book which I want you to take a look at – there is some pertinent information regarding the Orb which I think you ought to be aware of. I normally wouldn’t condone an underclassman perusing such a volume, but I think this warrants an exception. You may want to remind me during our usual meeting time this Thursday in case I don’t mention it before then.

You may want to ask Anastasia to see if she’s willing to spend a couple of hours in a quiet nook with you this weekend – she will almost certainly be able to ‘translate’ some of the more difficult passages for you. Even from a grown man’s perspective, it wasn’t an easy read. Please be sure to return the book to me after next Monday’s lecture.

If you need anything else in the meantime, I’m just an owl away.

Sincerely,

Remus Lupin”

“Was that from Professor Lupin by any chance, Harry?” squeaked Tallulah.

Harry smiled and nodded. “Sure was.”

Tallulah bit her lip. “So… was he able to help you?”

“Sorta,” replied Harry. “He needs to talk to Professor Haatali.”

Othniel arched an eyebrow. “Professor who?”

“Professor Haatali,” Harry repeated. “He teaches Shamanism… it’s an elective for third-years, on up.”

“Never heard of him,” Othniel muttered. “Shamanism… isn’t that like earth spirits and vision quests and all that?”

“Partially,” chimed in Ana. “Shamanism predates Western magic by literally thousands of years. Most modern magical societies laugh at shamans for using ‘inferior magic’, but a properly-skilled shaman can weave magical circles around most witches and wizards. Although the variety of shamanism we learn at Ilvermorny is diluted considerably, we can still learn some powerful healing spells and demonstrate incredible feats of elemental magic – as in the four elements of earth, air, fire and water. What’s equally cool and frightening is that much of shamanistic magic is wandless. It’s no joke, if you’re disciplined enough to study it.”

The corner of her lips curled into a faint smirk. “Trust me when I say that you really don’t want to duel Professor Haatali. He's too humble to admit it, but he’d overpower the headmaster pretty quickly, and Professor Fontaine is plenty formidable. I’d reckon he’d be a match for the mighty Dumbledore were they to spar.”

“I’d actually love to see that. I wouldn’t want them to, y’know, hurt each other, but it would be interesting to see two of the most powerful beings in the magical world go head-to-head in a friendly match, if only to see the total contrast of styles,” said Tallulah.

“From what Nova says, Professor Haatali was invited to Hogwarts a few years ago to demonstrate shamanistic magic in front of the kids. He asked the crowd of students if they wanted to watch him duel one of their professors,” explained Ana. “Of course, those kids overwhelmingly said yes, and when he asked the crowd which professor they wanted him to duel, most of them wanted him to take on their Potions Master.”

She giggled. “Hehehe. From what I gather, he’s even less popular at Hogwarts than Madam L is here! At any rate, when the Hogwarts Potions Master kicked it off with an expelliarmus spell – that’s a disarming spell, Othniel – little did he know that Professor Haatali didn’t even need a wand. He just wiggled his fingers and waved his hands around like he was molding a ball of clay, and summoned a miniature tornado that sucked their Potions Master right into its vortex and flung him two hundred feet against the opposite wall of their Great Hall! He supposedly taught the next several classes with his head in bandages and arm in a sling.”

***FLASHBACK – November 21^st, 1989***

Virtually all the Hogwarts faculty and student body was present to watch a very special guest demonstrate a very different brand of magic – shamanism. Professor Haatali stood out from his British hosts in that outside of Dumbledore himself, he was much taller than most of the staff, and instead of robes, he preferred the comforts of blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a simple vest which exposed his bare, rippled chest.

The students just stared at the strange Navajo man, eyes wide with awe. Most of the students had never seen a Native American before; only the Muggle-born ones had even seen them in books or film. His slow, deliberate speech was different than any variety of English they were accustomed to. The young witches and wizards got the idea that Professor Haatali actually preferred not to speak, unless necessary. He walked with something that wasn’t exactly a swagger, but he carried a certain poise and confidence that conveyed that he was not one to trifle with.

He addressed the crowd, with every single eye fixed on him. “One of the hallmark powers of shamanism is a strong attunement to the spirits,” he explained in a flat tone. He sat cross-legged on the floor, building a makeshift campfire circle of rocks, then neatly arranging tinder and kindling in a cone-shaped pattern. He smirked at the crowd as he raised his right hand before them, palm away, and as soon as he spread his fingers – POOF! A bright orange flame burst from his fingertips.

He opened up a small, leather pouch from inside his vest, and sprinkled a pinch of grayish-green powder over the fledgling flame. He chanted softly in his native Navajo language – a chant which captivated every last Hogwarts student – and the chanting abruptly ended with a lupine growl. A large spectral wolf appeared next to Haatali, sitting much like an obedient dog, and let out a shrill, mournful-sounding howl.

“This is a spirit wolf,” he drawled. “The wolf is revered in my culture, as it represents wisdom, unity and guidance. You cannot summon a spirit wolf until you truly understand these concepts.” He chuckled softly before commencing his next demonstration. “Speaking of spirits…” He held his hands over the fire, palm-up, and wiggled his fingers as he moved his hands up and down.

“Hey, lemmie go, lemmie go, what in Merlin’s name are you doIIIIIIINNG?”

The notorious court jester of a poltergeist, Peeves, began ascending from the bottom of the floor, feet first, kicking and screaming as Haatali ostensibly had complete control over him. Nearly every student and faculty member giggled with satisfaction – it was certainly a pleasure seeing the prankster being on the receiving end for once. Haatali guided Peeves rather like how a puppet master would maneuver the strings of a marionette, and with a crash of his hands, let Peeves drop right in front of a most unamused Professor Snape, as throngs of children applauded and cheered with delight.

Haatali cracked a rare grin. “I don’t suppose you would like to see a brief duel against one of your professors?” The Great Hall erupted into thunderous applause. “Very well,” he said with a nod. “I’ll let YOU choose my adversary… now, choose wisely…”

The answer was virtually instantaneous, and unanimous. The crowd burst into chants of “Snape! Snape! Snape! Snape!”. Professor Snape’s sizable scowl doubled in size while Haatali beckoned him to come onto the middle of the great hall. “You heard them, Professor,” Haatali said with a wink.

Snape growled as he strode to meet his opponent on the floor. “Very well, I shall humor the masses.” He snapped his fingers, and a slender black wand instantly appeared in his right hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

The two sorcerers bowed toward each other, before turning around and taking ten paces before turning to face each other. Almost as soon as he turned around, Snape cast a quick, devastating EXPELLIARMUS! Haatali’s wand flew out his hand, and while he remained on his feet, the spell forced him to retreat several steps backwards.

Snape smirked to himself in satisfaction after successfully disarming Haatali, but before he knew it, he was in for a rude awakening when the tall, gaunt Navajo made the same motion with his hands as before – like he was shaping a ball of clay – and before Snape knew it, he was lifted off his feet and engulfed by a tornado that spun him around like a centrifuge. Just as Snape felt like he was about to vomit, the tornado hurled him clear across the room, crashing through one of the castle windows and into the courtyard.

“Make way, make way,” Madam Pomfrey demanded as students and faculty parted for the panicked school medic.

“He’ll be fine,” Haatali said to Professor Dumbledore, who simply nodded in reply. “Though I doubt he’ll be sending me a Christmas card this year.”

Chapter 57: Hatching A Plan

Chapter Text

During their Thursday afternoon free period, Harry, Othniel and Tallulah visited Professor Lupin as they’ve grown accustomed to doing. He offered the children treats and puckerberry juice, which they accepted without hesitation.

“How have your holiday breaks gone?” Lupin asked as the firsties munched away on their snacks. “Did you get anything special for Christmas?” He pointed at Harry and winked. “Don’t answer that one – I already know what you got.”

“I don’t know if you call it ‘special’, but I got some clothes, some money, and some fancy colored pencils,” replied Tallulah with a shrug.

“Colored pencils, eh? Do you have a flair for art, perhaps?” murmured Lupin.

Tallulah let out a nervous giggle. “I don’t know if you’d call me an artist, but I like to sketch and doodle a bit. I have a couple of sketch pads I like to practice on.” Her cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. “You might think this is a bit silly, but I still enjoy coloring books… they do have some more advanced ones that take a while to finish.”

“I don’t think that’s silly at all,” chuckled Lupin. “Especially if a relaxing activity like that helps you unwind after a stressful day. And what about you, Othniel?”

Othniel snickered. “I actually got an electronic gaming system. I totally didn’t expect that…”

“Awesome! What did you end up getting?” asked Harry.

“I got a Sega Game Gear,” Othniel said with pride, but his expression then darkened a smidge with disappointment. “I wish I could play it at the castle, but the batteries keep dying after like five seconds, so I gave up after swapping them out after the third time. I get the feeling that they don’t like electronics here.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I’m not sure what it is with magic and electronics, but I don’t think they mix. Both my uncle and my godfather told me to keep my Game Boy at home.” He offered his friend an apologetic smile. “I wish I had known you were getting a Game Gear, dude. I would have told you to keep it at home!”

“It’s not a big deal,” admitted Othniel. “I don’t have much time to devote to gaming during the term anyway. This summer, on the other hand…”

Lupin and the three children exchanged light-hearted banter for the better part of a half hour, before the professor suddenly remembered the time and had to excuse himself to get ready for his next lecture. “Tallulah? Othniel? I’ll be seeing you tomorrow for sure. And Harry? Could you stay behind for just a tic? I have something for you.”

As Othniel and Tallulah waved goodbye to their professor, Harry hung out in his Defense professor’s office until the coast was clear. Lupin grabbed a small leather-bound book off his shelf, with several bookmarks sticking out of the pages. He blew off a light coating of dust before handing it to Harry. “This isn’t just any book, Harry. It’s a personal diary from Thaddeus Forristall, a prominent historian of the wizarding world. Like myself, he was educated at Hogwarts, but his speciality was North American and Asian wizarding history.”

Harry looked at the diary in awe. The pages were yellowed with age, though the magical ink looked as new as the day it was written. “This book has to be at least fifty years old,” he surmised.

“Try closer to a century,” chuckled Lupin. “To give you an idea, he was off bushwhacking in Burma when Albus Dumbledore was but a schoolboy.” He tightened his lips. “Despite his significant contributions to the wizarding world, over the last thirty years of his life, he developed a rather unhealthy obsession with the Orb of Exuberance. He had gone so far to teach himself Parseltongue – at least enough of the language to open the same passageway you just so happened upon – but came up just short of claiming it for himself. From what I’ve read in his journal, the Orb presents itself only to those it deems worthy.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “So, what happened to Forristall? Did he meet the same end as Elder Gomer?”

“That, nobody can say for sure,” sighed Lupin. “He somehow vanished from the face of the earth about sixty years ago. It’s reasonable to assume that his obessesion with that infernal artifact gradually drove him to madness, but how he met his end – and where – is a complete mystery.”

“So… what about Professor Haatali?” asked Harry, scratching at the back of his neck. “Have you heard anything from him yet?”

“It won’t be today I’m afraid,” Lupin replied. “He’s aware of your predicament, but he needs more time to fully focus on the next steps. When he’s ready, I’ll let you know.”

***

The next morning was Friday, and Harry’s face glowed with excitement when he spied Ana sitting at the breakfast table, her nose buried in a textbook as per usual. “Good morning, Ana,” Harry greeted as cheerfully as he could.

“Well hello there Harry,” squeaked Ana as she gently lay her book face-down on the table, offering him a bright smile. “TMIF!”

“Oh, definitely,” agreed Harry. His smile practically doubled in size. “Oh, I’ve got to show you something. Professor Lupin let me borrow it for the weekend, and he suggested that we look at it together, if you have an hour or two…”

Ana co*cked her head a few degrees, then giggled. “You’ve got me curious, Harry. Whatever Professor Lupin let you use has got to be wicked cool.”

Harry simply smiled and nodded, before cupping a hand over Ana’s ear. “It’s a book he got from the library’s restricted section,” he whispered. “It’s a hand-written journal by Thaddeus Forristall – apparently he was a notable wizarding historian from back in the day – and apparently, it’s got some information about some of the secrets the Orb holds. Professor Lupin says that it’s not an easy read – he even recommended that you and I read it together as you can sort of ‘dumb it down’ to the lay person – not that I’m dumb or anything…”

Ana’s face virtually glowed. “That sounds incredibly fascinating, Harry. I’d love to read it with you… maybe this evening if that works for you?” Her cheeks then flushed a bright pink. “And I’m flattered he thinks that highly of me…” She winked at Harry, before whispering in his ear. “Sooo… d’you want to take that invisibility cloak of yours for a test drive tonight? We can meet in the common room maybe twenty minutes after lights-out, and we can maybe read it in the choir room?”

“I have Astronomy tonight at ten,” Harry said. “It’ll probably be at least eleven by the time I get back upstairs, though I’m sure you’ll hear Tallulah and her roommates scuffling around in the girls’ dorms so that can be your cue to know that I’m ready. If it’s easier, I’ll let you hold on to my cloak until then… you might need it to sneak into the common room.”

“Oh shoot, I forgot about that,” Ana grumbled. “And are you sure about that? It’s a priceless heirloom and I feel kinda bad taking it from you…”

Harry looked into Ana’s eyes. “I’m offering it to you because I trust you,” he said firmly. “I’ll hand it to you after class this afternoon, and you can just keep it safe for a few hours.”

“Okay, Harry,” Ana whispered with a nod. “Thank you.” She then threw him a sneaky smile. “While I can’t wait to see what’s in that book, I really can’t wait to write back to Daphne. I’m sure you understand.”

“I won’t keep you,” chuckled Harry. He co*cked an eyebrow. “Speaking of Daphne, she hasn’t asked about me yet, has she?”

Ana shook her head ‘no’. “She hasn’t, and like I said before, I won’t mention your name unless she specifically asks. I’d like to think she has enough sense not to make a big deal about the Boy-Who-Lived – after all, it’s been a month since I sent her that group photo of us, and you haven’t been hounded by the wizarding world’s equivalent of the paparazzi since then.” She let out a devious snicker. “It’s also safe to assume that she probably has a bit of a crush on you, rather like a teen idol in the no-maj world.”

“No thanks,” Harry replied in the most deadpan manner possible. “I’m sure she’s a nice girl and all, but British witches… aren’t my type.”

“How do you know she’s British? She could be Irish, maybe even Australian!” Ana exclaimed with a lopsided shrug. “For what it’s worth, Daphne’s a very cute witch – she hit the genetic jackpot for sure. But if you’re not into British witches, then maybe it’ll be a wizard that could suit your fancy.”

“Really?!” Harry spat. He rolled his eyes so hard that if they weren’t securely held in their sockets, they might have threatened to fall out.

Ana shrugged again. “I’m mostly messing with you, Harry, but seriously, even if you end up with someone other than a witch, it’s really not a big deal! All I want is for you to be happy…”

Harry sighed as he shook his head, and went back to his breakfast.

***

That evening, during Astronomy, Professor Forkgrinder went over constellations with his first-year audience. With a quick swish of his wand, he telekinetically manipulated a star chart to highlight three stars which lined up horizontally in a nearly-straight line.

“All right, class,” he began in his usually excited-tone, “can anyone name the three stars which comprise Orion’s Belt?”

Many of the students looked at each other with blank expressions on their faces, others looked toward Tallulah, who answered Forkgrinder’s questions with more frequency than anyone else in the class. “Harry? Othniel?” she squeaked. “It’d make our house look good if someone besides me answered the professor’s question…”

“Anybody?” Forkgrinder beckoned. “Come on, don’t be shy… I didn’t assign that much reading over the holiday break, you know. Tell you what, I’ll sweeten the pot. One house point per correct star, and five if you get all three in the right order, from left to right. How’s that sound?”

Othniel tentatively put his hand up. Forkgrinder’s face brightened with anticipation. “Ahh, Mister Beckett!”

Othniel put on his figurative thinking cap, before offering a hesitant “Alnitak?”

“So far, so good, young man,” confirmed Forkgrinder. “One house point for the Horned Serpents so far.”

Othniel looked upward in thought, digging through his memory banks. “Alnilam?”

“He shoots, he scores,” Forkgrinder exclaimed with no shortage of excitement. “Two down, one left.”

Othniel’s faced scrunched so tightly he looked like he was sucking on a lollipop as sour as battery acid. “Min… Mintaka?”

“Well done, Mister Beckett,” Forkgrinder said in a surprisingly calm tone. “Five points to the Horned Serpents in total.” He quickly reverted to his usually-excited state. “So you’re probably asking, Professor Forkgrinder, why are we going over the constellation of Orion this week? I’ll tell you why – January is the prime month to see Orion in all its glory.” He turned sideways to get a glance at a magical sundial. “And as it’s about ten forty at night, it’s early enough in the evening to still be seen at its peak. Let’s take a good look at the mighty hunter of the night sky – everybody up, and to the observation deck!”

About twenty minutes later, he dismissed his class with a hearty “Keep looking up!”

Harry, Othniel and Tallulah huddled together as they made their way back toward the castle, their boots making crunching sounds in the freshly-fallen snow. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Tallulah said, “but I think that’s the first time you got us house points for stepping up in the classroom, Othniel. Keep up the good work!” She took a mittened hand and gave one of Othniel’s hands a quick squeeze. Othniel felt his cheeks suddenly able to tolerate the chilly arctic winds that have been whipping at it.

“We’re proud of you, dude,” added Harry. “You’ve come a long way since the start of term. I don’t have to drag you out of bed to make it to physical training, and lately you actually seem to want to be in our study group.”

“Maybe I’m giving serious consideration about wanting to join the Horned Serpent Quiz Bowl team next year,” Othniel half-joked.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Harry laughed.

Five minutes later, the three made it upstairs in the Horned Serpent common room. To Othniel and Tallulah’s surprise, Harry stayed behind while they went to their respective dormitories.

“Aren’t you going to get changed for bed, Harry?” asked Tallulah as she looked over her shoulder. “It’s after lights-out…”

“I will in a few minutes,” Harry replied with a nod. “I need to take care of something really quick first. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

“Have a good night,” Tallulah murmured as she headed toward her room.

Harry hung out by the fireplace for several minutes. The fire was still going strong – he had to admit that the heat felt good on his cold face and hands. Mount Greylock certainly had far harsher winters than western British Columbia, that’s for sure. Even the mittens and watch cap he wore only offered moderate protection against the elements – perhaps enough to stave off frostbite and hypothermia, but certainly not enough for his extremities to actually feel warm.

The crackling, dancing flames put Harry in a bit of a lull – indeed, he was fighting the urge to fall asleep, and might have nodded off if it weren’t for a sudden whisper: “Harry! Harry! Are you ready?”

Harry shook his head to stay awake. “Ana?” he whispered back. He knew it was Ana, but he couldn’t see her. He then realized that he had given her his invisibility cloak for safe keeping earlier in the afternoon. She opened the cloak up, revealing her Garfield nightgown. “Oh shoot,” Harry grumbled. “I need to get the diary. It’s in my room. I guess if we’re careful, we can sneak in together…” He huddled under the cloak with Ana, and guided her to his dormitory room.

“Let’s see,” he whispered as he opened the top drawer of his dresser. “Now, this cloak is only supposed to hide us visually, so other people can still hear us if we’re too loud… ahhh.” His fingers felt the unmistakable soft texture of a leather-bound book, and stuffed it inside his winter jacket pocket.”

Ana bit her lip. “That’s the right book, I hope. I’d hate for us to go all the way downstairs and for us to read a wizard’s cookbook..”

Harry pulled the book from under his coat and let Ana look. “I can barely see anything,” she whispered, “but just by touching the pages… it feels old. And goodness, how many bookmarks did Professor Lupin stick in this thing?”

“That’s the one,” Harry replied, resisting the urge to chuckle. “So, are you ready to head to the choir room and see what secrets this Forristall guy is about share with us?”

Ana giggled ever-so-softly. “Definitely, Harry… but the real question is, are you ready?”