Chapter 53

SHAMELESS PLUG!

My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It’s free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it’s American Harry Potter. Except there’s no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.
Harry Potter
and the Death Eater Menace

Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

Chapter 53: The Future All Around Us, Waiting to Be Born (Pt 2)

The Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch
26 April 1994

Oliver Wood sat alone on a bench and stared out at the empty pitch wondering how everything had fallen apart.

“This should have been our year,” he thought bitterly. “An experienced team with no replacements. Good Chasers. Good Beaters. And the best Seeker I’ve ever seen. And the Slytherins had four new members! All we had to do was stay 50 points ahead of them and then let Jim catch the Snitch, and the Quidditch Cup was ours. What happened?”

But he knew what had happened. It had been a failure of leadership.

Fred and George had been at each other’s throats for months and suddenly couldn’t coordinate worth a damn, a problem Oliver had ignored because he didn’t want his involvement in the prank against SPAM exposed. Meanwhile, Jim, for all his unmistakable talent, was emotionally unstable and had been for two years, but since the Easter break, he’d been moody and distracted. When Oliver tried to impress on the boy to wait until they were up by 50 points, Jim had just looked at him blankly. To add insult to injury, the night before the match, his three Chasers (one Pureblood and two Halfbloods) got into an argument over Theo Bloody No-Name and were all still mad with each other about it.

And then, there were the Slytherins. Their three Chasers (Pucey, Black, and Montague) were as well-oiled as the year before, and Harry Black especially seemed to be as good a Chaser as his twin was a Seeker. Their Beaters (Goyle and Bulstrode) were still young and inexperienced but had grown into their roles over the season. Their Keeper (Bletchley) was adequate. But their Seeker ….

It had to be confessed that while Ginny Weasley was not as good as Jim Potter, she was still very, very good. So much so that Jim was hard-pressed to keep her from the Snitch while waiting to catch it himself until after the Lions had built up a lead. At one point, Jim was desperate enough to try a Wronski Feint, hoping she’d crash and have to sit out for a while. Instead, the Slytherin girl matched him perfectly.

After the game entered its fourth hour, the score was 270-230. Gryffindor had only managed a 40-point lead, and that only because Oliver was simply better than Bletchley as Keeper. But finally, Angelina scored a penalty goal after Goyle fouled her. 280-230! When play resumed, Jim immediately started searching for the Snitch in earnest with Ginny right on his tail. He saw a flash of gold at the far side of the field, and for an instant he seemed entranced by it. Then, the Boy-Who-Lived rocketed towards his target. Ginny was closer. It took her a second to realize he’d spotted the Snitch, but she reacted instantly, and the two were soon neck-and-neck. As they drew ever nearer to their target, they bumped into each other a few times trying to throw the other off course.

And then, it happened. The Snitch veered left which gave Ginny a slight edge. Jim pushed his broom harder and, without fully intending to, hit the girl hard with his elbow. Ginny fell behind a few feet, and Jim reached out and grabbed the Snitch. From his vantage point across the field, Oliver screamed in jubilation. The crowd noise was deafening. So loud was it, in fact, that it was several seconds before Jim could hear Madam Hooch’s whistle blowing. When the noise died down, the referee announced her call via Sonorous.

“THE GRYFFINDOR SEEKER HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH. 150 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR. BUT PRIOR TO THAT, HE COBBED THE OPPOSING SEEKER.”

Cobbing was the official term for “excessive use of elbows,” a foul move that entitled the Cobbed player to a penalty shot. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a penalty called after the Snitch had been caught was a mere formality, and often, the affected team simply waived their right to take a shot. But not always. The victory in this match was Gryffindor’s, but they still needed to beat Slytherin by a total of 200 points to claim the Quidditch Cup. If Ginny made the shot, the Lions would only have a 190-point lead, and the Cup would go to the Snakes.

As Oliver nervously took his position in front of the center goal, the two teams cleared the field save for Ginny Weasley … and Harry Black, who’d come out presumably to give a pep talk and some advice. Though the two were about 100 yards away, Oliver could just make out Harry turning to look in his direction for a few seconds before leaning in to whisper something to Ginny. She took a step back and looked at him in visible shock. Then, she turned to look towards Oliver, and even from this distance, the Gryffindor could tell.

She was smiling.

Harry exited the field and a few seconds later, Ginny lifted off on her broom, the Quaffle tucked under her arm. Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the Slytherin took off towards the Gryffindor goals. About a third of the way there, she veered right, indicating that her target was the goal on that side. Worried that it might be a feint, Oliver moved to a position above and between those two goals so that he was ready to defend each. When she was just over halfway to the goal, Ginny pulled back her arm and threw the Quaffle towards the outer goal, and Oliver moved farther left to intercept it. Apparently, for all the girl’s skill as a Seeker, she was obviously an inexperienced Chaser.

Or so Oliver thought.

Suddenly, Ginny accelerated even as she shifted her grip. The girl flew up behind the Quaffle in flight and the spun her whole body around in mid-air so that she could strike the Quaffle with the end of her broom as if it were a Beater’s bat. A perfectly executed Finbourgh Flick!

The Quaffle changed course and rocketed towards the goal on the opposite side. Desperately, Oliver moved to intercept, and for a moment, he thought the girl had misaimed and the Quaffle would fly wide. But then, the spinning Quaffle seemed to bend in its trajectory, arcing towards the outer edge of the goal. Oliver stretched and strained, and he could almost feel the Quaffle graze his fingertips. But it was not enough to block the ball from passing through the hoop.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, as the scoreboard clicked over. 280-240! Instantly, the crowd went wild. The Slytherins stormed the field in jubilation over their Quidditch Cup victory that had been secured by a Second-Year player who had just performed a maneuver never before seen on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The three Chasers lifted Ginny onto their shoulders. Nearby, Goyle and Bulstrode hugged one another, and the girl impulsively kissed her fellow Beater right on the lips. A second later, they parted, their eyes wide in surprise. Blushing, they reached out and stiffly shook hands instead before turning and quickly walking away from each other.

Hours after the game’s conclusion, Oliver still sat alone on his bench. He had shaken Pucey’s hand with as much grace as he could summon and then left to grab a shower and change clothes. But he didn’t return to the castle with the others. He didn’t want to have to look any of his teammates in the eye after letting them down. Right now, he simply wanted to be alone with his failure. Naturally, his solitude was interrupted.

“You alright?”

Nearby was a young man in a Slytherin uniform studying him with concern. And right now, Oliver really didn’t’ want to talk to any Slytherins.

“I’m fine,” he said, turning his attention back to the field. The Slytherin sat down beside him, to Oliver’s annoyance.

“Look, I’d really like to be alone right now,” the Gryffindor snapped. “And I’m definitely not in the mood for Slytherin gloating.”

“I’m not here to gloat, Wood. And I know you’re upset. But you’re a really good Keeper. You can’t let one rough day ruin your confidence.”

“Obviously, I wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t block the most important shot of my life, not even when the shooter is a 12-year-old girl! So much for playing for Puddlemere United. They’d laugh me out of tryouts.”

“What about the Montrose Magpies?”

“What about them?” Wood asked irritably.

“My family owns them,” the boy said. “And they really need a good Reserve Keeper. I think you’d be a great fit. I would be happy to talk to my father about it.”

Oliver’s head snapped around. “And why would you want to do something like that for me?”

Cassius Warrington smiled. “Because we have more in common than you might think, Wood. And us Purebloods have to stick together, right?”

4 Privet Drive
27 April 1994

James looked around his newly furnished “living room” and reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow with more satisfaction than he’d anticipated at the start of the day. True, all the good furniture from Potter Manor had been given over Harry, including antiques that had been in the Potter family for centuries. The spartan furniture that he’d brought to 4 Privet Drive was all Lily’s and thus was exempt from seizure. In the months between her graduation from Hogwarts and their marriage, Lily had kept a small flat in London that she furnished with Muggle money her parents had gifted her. After the wedding, she kept the flat for use as a safehouse for the Order of the Phoenix. Then, after the war ended, the flat was let go, but she kept the furniture in storage mainly for sentimental purposes. After all, they had plenty of room, as the storage attic of Potter Manor was bigger than most people’s homes. Naturally, when she had the house elves pack her meager furnishings away, Lily had never imagined that James would one day manage to lose literally everything else the couple had.

On the bright side, James was still a master Transfigurationist and was able to restore the old furniture to good-as-new and even update it to something more stylish. A sofa, recliner, and coffee table for the living room, as well as an old television James was afraid to touch. A sturdy oak table and chairs for the kitchen, which to James’s surprise came with a Muggle re-freezer-ator already installed (but still empty). Upstairs, there was one queen-sized bed for James and Lily and a twin bed for Jim, along with a dresser for each. He hoped Jim could adapt to sleeping in such a small bed after using in a king-size almost since the day he came out of the nursery.

The terms of James’s agreement with Artemus Podmore afforded him few dignities, and for a while, James was afraid he’d leave the bank in literal rags. But in the end, he was allowed to keep some personal items judged to be of nominal value at auction: clothing with no resale value, the oldest broom in his collection, his owl Godric, scrapbooks and other minor personal effects. Jim and Lily could keep all their own personal items, and James was relieved to learn that Jim could keep his Nimbus 2000 for Quidditch. Naturally, James would also keep the wand he’d taken from the Potter family vaults to replace the one Pettigrew had snapped. His new wand was a 10-inch ebony with a unicorn hair core. It had been owned by James’s great-great-grandfather, Benjamin Potter. Surprised to find a compatible wand made of such materials, he’d consulted with Mr. Ollivander, who told him that such a wand would be excellent for transfiguration but would likely only choose a wizard after its first if he were “a descendant who had something to prove … or something to atone for.”

With the furniture in place, James sat down and debated whether to risk turning on the television, something he had not attempted since the Marauders’ infamous 1976 “Month of Muggledom.” That adventure ended abruptly after James tried to adjust the volume on the quartet’s tiny rabbit-eared TV and, in the process, somehow started a house fire. Of course, another part of James’s reticence about the television might have had something to do with its location – right next to the small padlocked door that James assumed was The Boot Cupboard.

Suddenly, James was startled by the doorbell. Wondering who on earth could have come for a visit, he shifted his wand to a back pocket and then opened the door. It was old Mrs. Figg, the squib for whom James had purchased a house on Wisteria Walk just a block away so that she could keep an eye on Harry as he grew up. She stood on the front porch bearing a platter of cookies. She also smelled heavily of cat, but at the moment, James was hungry enough not to care, so he invited her in.

“Goodness me, Lord Potter,” she said excitedly. “So the rumors are true? You’ll be living here at 4 Privet Drive?”

“For the foreseeable future, Mrs. Figg. Come in. And please – call me James. Can I get you something? All I have is water, I’m afraid, and even that’s only out of the end of a wand.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright dearie. I just wanted to pop by and see if I could get you anything or perhaps fill you in on the neighborhood gossip. I’m sure you’ll soon be flooded with nosy neighbors who’ll be atwitter at a handsome young man living alone here.”

James frowned at the thought of “nosy neighbors” and resolved to put up some Muggle-Repelling Charms once it got dark. He showed the squib to the couch and sat down in the recliner. As he munched on a cookie, he listened to the woman give him a brief yet tedious rundown on the neighborhood personalities. While James didn’t particularly care about who argued too loudly about money or who was cheating on his spouse with a neighbor, there were a few questions he did want answered, and he felt he’d need to ease into it.

“I was wondering, Mrs. Figg. Do you know what happened to Petunia Dursley and her son? I was surprised to learn that they’d moved some time ago.”

“Well, let me see now. Yes! Vernon Dursley passed away back in the Fall of ’92. October, I think it was. Next thing I knew, Petunia was packed up and ready to leave before Christmas! She bought a townhouse in Oxford to be nearer to Smeltings. I reckon she was out of here before the ink on the check had dried. Of course, I understand how she wouldn’t want to stay here, you know, in the house where it happened!”

James nodded as he tried to absorb. “Okay, let’s take that in reverse order. ‘In the house where what happened’?”

“Why Vernon dying, of course! She woke up in the middle of the night to find him gasping for air and clutching his chest! But by the time the ambulance came, it was too late. Heart attack! I hear he’d turned purple in the face. Of course, not to speak ill of the dead, but when a man doesn’t take care of himself, it’s bound to catch up with you sooner or later!”

“Uh-huh. And, um, who is this … Smeltings person?”

“Smeltings is a school, dearie. Smeltings Academy. It’s a rather posh public boarding school in the Southeast. Young Dudley started there the same year your little Harry started at Hogwarts.”

“Right. That makes sense. And you said something about a check?’

Mrs. Figg clucked her tongue. “The insurance check! Apparently, Vernon Dursley left a very large life insurance policy plus a widow’s pension through that drill company or whatever it was that paid enough for Petunia to live comfortably in Oxford.”

“Oh, well. That’s … nice,” said James who had no idea how life insurance worked. “And the house has stayed empty since then? It looks to be in very good shape for a house that’s been vacant for a year and a half.”

“Oh it hasn’t been vacant, dearie,” she replied. “After Petunia and Dudley moved away, the house was rented out two or three times. But the renters always moved out unexpectedly and on very short notice. Rather odd, I thought.”

“Huh,” said James, who didn’t know enough about the real estate market to have a clue why that would be odd. There was a moment of silence between the two as he took another bite from his cookie. Finally, he decided to dive right in.

“Mrs. Figg… what do you remember about … about Harry?”

The squib sighed fondly. “I thought he was a dear lad. And ever so kind. Remarkably kind considering how he got treated by the Dursleys. Of course the rest of the neighborhood wasn’t much better towards him. I think Vernon and Petunia must have told everyone that he was a bad egg, and so no one trusted him or would let their children play with him. I know when he went off to Hogwarts, they told all the neighbors he was in a reform school. The St. Brutus School for Incurably Criminal Boys or something like that.”

James’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, but Mrs. Figg continued without any notice.

“Then again, I reckon I can’t say too much. The Dursleys used to let me babysit him whenever they were going out and didn’t want to take him along. But I didn’t dare treat him too well, or he might have let the Dursleys know that he liked visiting me, and then they probably wouldn’t have let him come over at all. Better just a little kindness than none at all, I thought.”

James stared at the woman aghast. Did she really believe that it was dangerous for her to treat his son kindly or else it might cause the Dursleys to treat him worse?

“Mrs. Figg,” he began before faltering for a few seconds. “Do you mean to say that … you knew the Dursleys were mistreating Harry?!?”

“Well, I knew there was a lot of shouting going on. And I always thought he looked a bit underfed….”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ME?!?” he shrieked, startling the older woman.

“Call you, Lord Potter?” she asked almost indignantly. “I assure you! I kept a close eye on wee Harry, and I never saw any signs that he had magic! I’d have let you know at once if I had!”

“Never mind if he had magic, woman! Why didn’t you call us to let us know he was being abused?!?”

She stared at James in genuine confusion.

“Because it never occurred to me that you’d have cared!” the old woman exclaimed. “You told me he was a squib and I never saw reason to doubt that. And while the Dursleys may have treated him poorly, I never had cause to think his life was in danger. The Dursleys fed him, clothed him, kept him in school, and gave him a place to sleep at nights. I’d say that’s better than most squibs from Great Houses could ever hope for!”

The woman leaned back against couch as she regarded James Potter, and something dark and cold entered her eyes.

“After all,” said Arabella Figg née Greengrass, “I do have some personal experienced on that score!”

James stared in horror at the woman he’d entrusted to look after his son.

“Thank you for coming by, Mrs. Figg,” he said weakly. “If you’ll excuse me though, I have a lot unpacking to do.”

The squib nodded understandingly and made her way out. Once she was gone, James leaned his head against the door for several seconds. Then, he steeled himself and marshalled his Gryffindor courage before marching back to the padlocked cupboard door. With a single slash of his wand, the padlock clicked open and fell to the floor. James knelt and opened the door. Inside were mostly cardboard boxes which he pulled out. It was all of Harry’s things from when he was a child. Old worn clothes. Broken toys. A stuffed black dog that Sirius had given his godson as a baby, though a leg had been ripped off and most of the stuffing was gone.

James crawled into the cupboard itself. The lightbulb was shot, so he summoned a Lumos. There was a small lumpy mattress on the floor and a few dusty shelves that held a few children’s books and the remains of toy soldiers. Hanging on the wall opposite was a musty piece of paper with crayon markings faded with age. Gently, James pulled the paper down so he could see it clearly.

At the top were two words in a jagged child’s scrawl: Harry’s Room. And below them were two stick figures one with wild black hair and glasses, the other obviously a woman with red hair. Next to the two figures was a crudely drawn black dog. And below that, the words “I love you!!!”

The paper shook in James’s hand, and a single tear drop landed on it. And then, James slowly lowered himself down onto the floor and lay there on the mat his son had once slept on with the child’s drawing clutched to his heart.

The Great Hall at Hogwarts
1 May 1994

As the students of Hogwarts sat down for breakfast, there was a strange commotion that seemed to sweep over the Great Hall. Not a violent commotion, but rather an odd and widely felt feeling of disconnection, as if a sizeable percentage of the student body suddenly realized they’d forgotten something important and couldn’t even remember what it was. At the Slytherin table, Harry Black noticed the reactions of his fellow Slytherins and smiled. Then, very deliberately, he rose, picked up his cup and plate … and moved down to the end of the table where Theo No-Name had been sitting by himself. Several Slytherins watched in confusion as the newly-installed lord of an Ancient and Noble House lowered himself to sit with the hated Outcast, although once they’d thought about the matter, many of those Slytherins could no long recall why the Outcast had been hated in the first place.

The confusion was answered when the morning owl post arrived bearing the latest edition of The Daily Prophet.

WIZENGAMOT STRIKES ULTIMATE SANCTION LAW!

At the close of yesterday’s session, in an unexpected and unscheduled move, the Wizengamot voted by a margin of 198-65 to amend the Inheritance Act in order to strike those provisions relating to so-called Ultimate Sanction, with the change to take effect at Midnight last night. The controversial provision had previously allowed any Head of an Ancient and/or Noble House to expel any family member deemed guilty of treasonous acts or other high crimes. The magic inherent in the law ensured that the expelled individual would become an object of hatred in the eyes of all right-thinking wizards and witches. It was most recently used by the Lord of the Ancient & Noble House of Nott against his youngest son, who confessed to unspecified crimes against his family before being cast out under the Sanction.

“After much soul-searching and contemplation,” said Lord Nott, “I now realize that I was too hasty in using the Sanction. While Theo No-Names’s crimes against my house were worthy of expulsion, in my rage over his contemptible sins, I used a legal procedure that was meant for the worst examples of treason. I see now that the Ultimate Sanction, as written, is open to abuse by Lords and Ladies driven by righteous anger over betrayal by family members but whose conduct nevertheless does not rise to the level of universal condemnation. Accordingly, I support the striking of the Sanctomen Ultimo. Perhaps, in the future, the Wizengamot might revisit this issue and reestablish an Ultimate Sanction with safeguards to prevent misuse.”

Lady Acacia Brown, Matriarch of the Noble House of Brown, strongly disagreed. “The Santomen Ultimo is part of our nation’s heritage and was passed into law in response to one of the darkest eras in our history. Who are we to show leniency to those who our forefathers would have condemned to the harshest punishments?!? And in a motion rammed through with such limited debate time, as well! This is indeed a bitter pill to swallow coming so soon after the murder of my grandson, Tristan, at the hands of exactly the sort of swine who are deserving of such national hatred! And yet, it is certainly unsurprising, considering which families pushed through this rash amendment!”

Lady Brown refers to the fact that many of the Ancient and/or Noble families who supported revocation of the Sanction were associated with the Death Eater insurrection which ended in 1981 (although all of the accused Death Eaters presently seated in the Wizengamot were found to be victims of the Imperius Curse) or are otherwise generally considered “dark” families. Of note is the support of the newly reactivated House Wilkes for the amendment. The new Lord Wilkes, Harry Black (who is also the Heir Presumptive of the Ancient and Noble House of Black), made waves at the March 28 Special Session by claiming the Wilkes Seat mere moments after his dramatic self-expulsion from House Potter, for which he was previously the Heir Apparent. The controversy only deepened yesterday when Lord Wilkes’s Seneschal announced that House Potter had sworn fealty to House Wilkes, thereby giving Lord Wilkes control the majority of his former family’s votes, including the Order of Merlin votes held by both the Boy-Who-Lived and his father, the disgraced former Chief Auror James Potter.

Neville read the article three times as he sought to absorb the information about Theo.

“What’s up, Longbottom?” Cormac McLaggen asked. “You look like you’ve taken ill.”

Wordlessly, the boy handed over the newspaper.

“Huh,” McLaggen said casually. “So the No-Name kid’s not an Outcast anymore. Good for him.” Then, the older boy returned to his breakfast without further interest.

“Good … for … him?” Neville asked weakly. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Neville’s right!” exclaimed Lavender Brown angrily from a few feet away.

“… I am?” Neville asked in surprise.

“Of course! It’s like my Nan said in that article! Theo No-Name clearly did something to justify having the Ultimate Sanction put on him, but then a bunch of Death Eater scum got together and revoked it. That’s definitely suspicious in my book!”

“Harry’s family voted with the majority!” Neville exclaimed. “So did Justin’s family! So did my Gran!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Longbottom,” Cormac drawled. “I’m sure your Gran had good intentions. And anyway, the bill passed, and Magic ratified it. So whatever bad stuff No-Name did in the past, it’s all water under the bridge. No need for anyone on either side to bear a grudge over it.”

“Hmmf!” Lavender said, indicating that she at least still held a grudge.

Neville stared at McLaggen and Lavender. Then, he looked around the room at other prominent members of the CPS. The reactions were mixed, but a sizeable percentage simply appeared to shrug and move on as if the sudden absence of a magical hatred for Theo was no stranger than its onset had been the previous summer. And then, he looked over at Theo himself and noticed that several other members of Slytherin House had moved down to his end of the table, apparently to congratulate him. Or, Neville supposed, to reassure him that they didn’t hate him quite so much. Either way, he suspected they were mostly doing it as a way of currying favor with Harry, as the Lord of House Wilkes had rather blatantly taken the ex-Outcast under his protective wing.

Neville rose stiffly from his seat. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled. “Feel kind of sick.” Then, he turned and quickly left the Great Hall.

Meanwhile, Theo and Harry were enjoying the experience of classmates who, terribly confused over their own feelings, came to greet the former Outcast. Some apologized. Others (bizarrely, in Harry’s view) simply said “No hard feelings?” or the equivalent. A few stayed where they were, and Harry intuited that their hostility towards Theo remained to some degree, though Harry couldn’t tell whether they were more severely affected by the Sanction or simply had independent reasons for their anger. After all, whether he was an Outcast or not, Theo was now unquestionably back to being one of Harry’s closest friends. And a lot of Slytherins had reason to hate Harry and anyone in his orbit.

“May I join you?” asked a familiar voice. It was Blaise Zabini, whose mask of casual ambivalence was, for once, not very convincing. Indeed, the boy almost looked as though he was genuinely afraid of being rejected.

Theo glanced at Harry who nodded slightly. “Of course,” said the ex-Outcast. “It’s good to see you again.”

Blaise relaxed and smiled. “Likewise.”

The Silver Trio picked up seemingly where they’d left off the previous year, back before the Sanction had required them to maintain a “stealth friendship.” The level of emotion on Blaise’s face – specifically genuine relief and happiness that the Sanction was over – confused Harry and made him wonder what Zabini’s angle was. After all, it had been Blaise who had unilaterally broken off their own friendship a few weeks earlier rather than reveal what he knew about the Potter Prophecy and the Deathly Hallows. Zabini had not set foot in the Prince’s Lair since.

Then, Harry suddenly realized the truth: After three years at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini didn’t actually have many true friends and virtually none in Slytherin House. Obviously, cutting himself off from Theo and later Harry must have been more difficult than it had seemed. With a flash of insight, Harry also realized how much he had missed Blaise for the last few weeks.

The trio’s gabbing was interrupted when someone nearby coughed to gain their attention. They all turned and were rather surprised to see Cedric Diggory standing nearby bearing a sheepish expression. Cho Chang stood next to him looking as though she wished to be anywhere else in the world.

“I hope I’m not intruding, but I wanted to take a moment to congratulate you, Theo, on being free of the Sanction. Now that it’s over, I was hoping that you might be willing to come to our next Cultural Preservation Society meeting to discuss your experiences.”

Theo stared at the Hufflepuff somewhat gobsmacked. “… Seriously?”

“Oh yes!” Diggory said with complete earnestness. “There’s been a lot of tension among the Hogwarts student body, and I know that a few of us have treated you poorly. But I hope that we can all come together and perhaps find common ground. I mean, I’m sure it took a lot longer than you might have liked, but in the end, the system worked.”

By that point, all of Theo’s friends looked aghast if not actually angry, though Theo himself seemed almost amused by Diggory’s attitude.

“Diggory,” said Harry. “Slightly off-topic, but did you know I’m apparently allergic to pufferfish eyes?”

Cedric blinked in confusion. “Uh, no, I didn’t know that, Pot- … I mean, Black.”

“Yeah, normally it’s not an issue, but the reaction is pretty intense if the pufferfish is cooked. So, if somebody uses pufferfish eyes in a potion and then bakes the potion into a cake, the effects can be very serious. Enough to put me in the Hospital Wing.”

“Well luckily, that didn’t happen,” snapped Cho Chang. “Look, we’ve already done our detentions for that prank and no one even got hurt. Are you still holding a grudge over it?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, Theo interrupted. “Thank you for your invitation, Diggory. I’ll definitely consider it. But for the time being, I want to observe how everyone else reacts to me now that the Sanction is over before I talk about it in front of any crowds.”

“Fair enough,” the other boy said. “Do let me know if you change your mind. Good day to you all.”

As the two returned to the other side of the room, Harry could clearly here Cho Chang mutter to her boyfriend, “I told you that was a dumb idea!”

Once they were far enough away, Theo and Harry broke out into helpless snickering.

After breakfast, the Slytherins headed out for their morning Herbology lesson, but on the way there, Neville stepped out of a boy’s restroom looking very pale. When he saw Theo and Harry, he took a deep breath and called out to them timidly.

“Um, Theo? Harry? Can I speak to you two in private for a sec?”

The two Slytherins looked at one another, shrugged, and followed the Gryffindor into the bathroom.

Once inside, Neville turned to the two boys and opened his mouth to speak only for his voice to crack. He paused, fought back a sob, and rubbed his hands over his face before trying again.

“I … am so sorry. To you Theo, and to you as well, Harry. You were right about what you said. I don’t know how, but you were right. The Sanction is gone and so is all that stupid pointless hate I’ve been feeling all these months. All I feel now is … absolute shame. Shame at how I let down my friends and how I failed to live up to my family’s ideals. I can only hope ….”

He paused, briefly overcome. Then, he wiped his eyes before continuing. “I can only hope that someday, I can earn your forgiveness. But even if it takes me the rest of my life, I will never give up on it. No matter what it takes, I will never ….”

“SWEET MERLIN, HARRY! MAKE HIM STOP!” Theo suddenly shrieked as if in physical pain. “THIS IS EXCRUCIATING!”

Harry smirked. “I quite agree. Neville, do you remember what I said to you just after that comment about how one day Theo would be free of the Sanction?”

Neville swallowed. “You said that … that I would feel humiliated. And I do! Believe me, I …!”

“Bzzzz!” Harry said while waving his hand in Neville’s direction as if to ward off a buzzing insect. “And what else did I say after that?”

The Gryffindor hesitated and licked his lips. “That … Theo would forgive me? And that you would too?”

“Yep! Without hesitation!”

“Okay,” Theo said. “I’m glad we’ve got that sorted. Now can we please get on to Herbology before we’re late for class?”

“Guys! I’m serious!” Neville exclaimed. “I was horrible to you both. You can’t just … forgive me like it was nothing!”

Theo and Harry glanced at each other. Then, Theo sighed in exasperation.

“Okay, fine!” Then, he pulled his book bag off his shoulder and shoved it into Neville’s arms. “As penance, you have to carry my books to all the classes we have together for the rest of term.”

Harry smiled approvingly before adding his own book bag on top of Theo’s. “Mine too. I mean, it’s been awful having to tiptoe around your feelings this year so the Sanction didn’t make you turn against me. Not to mention having to listen to all those dreadful accusations you made about how evil the Outcast was. It was heart-rending!”

Neville struggled under the weight of the two heavy bookbags plus his own that was still hanging from his shoulder. “Um … guys!”

“Now then,” Theo said. “To Herbology!”

“But of course!” replied Harry. The two Slytherins turned towards the restroom door.

“Guys!” Neville called out. “Wait up! These are kinda heavy!”

“Pfft!” snorted Theo. “Not nearly as heavy as the crushing weight of the Ultimate Sanction!”

“Or the awful burden of having to run interference between my friends all this time!”

“GUYS!” Neville wailed plaintively as he struggled towards the door before it could close behind his two laughing friends.

The Prince’s Lair
Later that afternoon

Harry stood at the end of the table, alone in the Lair save for the Hydra Throne. His eyes were focused on Rajah, the central serpent, the Exemplar of Ambition.

“On the night that you confirmed me as Prince, Rajah, you told me that were doing so even though you did not believe I had articulated an ambition worthy of the Throne.”

The boy lifted his chin defiantly. “I believe I have an ambition now that will satisfy you.”

Intrigued, Rajah tilted its head slightly. “Please share it, Prince Harry.”

“Since entering the wizarding world, I have encountered multiple forms of mind control and memory-altering magic. My friends have been subjected to some. People I admire have been subjected to some. I have been made the victim of some. As I said recently to someone else, it offends me that wizards and witches can so casually manipulate the minds of other people. And so, I have decided to dedicate myself – well, when I’m not trying to avert the apocalyptic prophecy that you’ve stuck me with – to removing the threat of such mind-altering powers.”

Rajah shook his head gently. “Your fears and concerns about such baleful magic are warranted. And we understand your desire to protect yourself from them. But developing a more powerful defense against mind alteration is not the sort of world-shaping ambition we wish to see.”

“You misunderstand, Great Rajah,” the boy said confidently. “I don’t mean that I will increase my own mental powers so that I can resist such magic better. I mean that I plan to abolish mind control. To rip it out of the very soil of magic by the root no matter what form it takes!”

If it were possible for a snake’s face to show surprise, all the Hydra’s nine faces were now doing so.

“You would wipe an entire field of magic from existence?” Rajah said.

Harry held up that morning’s newspaper with its headline:  WIZENGAMOT STRIKES ULTIMATE SANCTION LAW!

“I’ve already begun,” said the Prince of Slytherin.

12 Grimmauld Place
17 May 1994

On the night of May 17th, Grimmauld Place held its last Black family meal for the foreseeable future. Two weeks earlier, Buck MacMillan had taken an International Portkey provided by the British Aurors back to Australia where he would “talk to some old friends.” Three days ago, he sent word via Patronus that everything was good to go. The old friends in question – specifically, people in the Tabula Rasa Relocation Office who owed Buck some pretty big favors – had agreed to “rehabilitate” Bellatrix Black by providing her with a new (and younger) face and a new identity to go with it. The trick was getting her to Australia since International Portkeys were rather heavily regulated in Britain.

Happily, other countries were more open-minded about such things, especially when price was no object and the purchaser “knew people.” The next morning, a disguised Bellatrix and Regulus posing as a newlywed couple on their honeymoon would board the Occidental Express, the magical train that connected Britain with the rest of Europe. They would disembark in Venice two days later, where a “friend of a friend of a friend” named Gunther Hagrid would be waiting at the train station with two International Portkeys to Sydney. Buck would be waiting for them at the arrival point.

And so, tonight’s dinner was a going-away party for Bellatrix and Regulus, although the latter continually reassured his brother that he would be back in a few weeks once Bellatrix had been settled in.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible, Brother,” Reg had said. “Definitely by the time Harry gets back from Hogwarts. We do have plans for the summer after all.”

Regulus had already explained to Sirius that Harry appeared to have both the capacity for Metamorphmagery and the desire to develop it. Reg only hoped that he’d be as good an instructor to the boy as his Aunt Cassiopeia had been to him, though he was glad that Nymphadora Tonks would be on hand to provide an alternative perspective on the shapeshifting art.

Regulus did not bother to tell Sirius what other plans he and Lucius Malfoy had for the new Lord Wilkes during the summer break.

And speaking of Nymphadora Tonks, the evening meal was also a celebration for her, as the young woman’s reinstatement to the Auror academy had just been finalized. Fortunately, James Potter had entered the paperwork prior to his fall from grace, but even if he’d failed to do so, the Auror Corps was facing a manpower shortage, and several of the more promising trainees, Tonks among them, were being fast-tracked.

Meanwhile, Sirius had rewarded Andromeda and Ted by giving them a “delayed dowry” in the form of a new home in Hogsmeade that would soon become renovated into a new Tonks Clinic. Regrettably, he could not officially reinstate Andromeda as a Black because of the circumstances of her expulsion, but he could and did name Nymphadora as “a daughter of House Black” which entitled her to the same considerations he’d given Harry. That is, she would thereafter always have the option of changing her surname to Black and claiming sanctuary with the Black family. And, of course, even if he couldn’t officially reinstate Andromeda, nothing stopped him from presenting her and her husband with a great big pot of money.

In other “Sirius matters,” after weeks of begging and profuse apologies, Harry finally forgave his grandfather and invited him to stay at Potter Manor for the summer. Partly, this was for pragmatic reasons. While Harry might be emancipated, Amy Wilkes and Theo No-Name were not, and if Harry wanted them to stay with him over the summer months, there would need to be an actual adult on the premises. Neville would also be spending a few weeks at Potter Manor, and Augusta would be accompanying them as well, but Harry did not wish to impose on Lady Augusta by asking her to spend the entire summer as a guest in someone else’s home. But Sirius had always considered Potter Manor more of a home than Grimmauld Place anyway, and he happily reassured Harry that, while he was doing better but still in convalescence, he was definitely “adult enough” to chaperone minors for a few months.

Regulus snorted loudly upon hearing that but said nothing.

All of that meant that in a few days, Grimmauld Place would be locked down again. Thus far, Sirius had ducked public questions of where he’d been staying all this time, and he and Regulus agreed that it was best for them to keep the old townhouse in reserve as an emergency bolt hole. Besides, even after Dobby’s renovations, the house still held plenty of bad memories for them both, including a mad portrait in the attic whose wailing could still be heard echoing through the place late at night. Besides, once Sirius was well enough to take his Vow of Unity, he would be able to reclaim Chenenoir, the ancient fortress-manor of House Black.

With everything else going on, perhaps the Black Brothers might be forgiven for completely forgetting about Kreacher.

Ancient Runes
27 May 1994

As the other students circled around him, Blaise Zabini did his best to project an air of supreme confidence. Usually this was not a problem for the boy, but these were unusual circumstances. He was floating on an experimental homemade broomstick indoors in front of the entire Ancient Runes class, and he was about to get hit from several different angles by blasts of cold water. Supreme confidence was difficult to maintain while in danger of both public embarrassment and personal discomfort.

“AGUAMENTI!” cried out six voices in unison, and jets of water shot out from six different wants towards the boy. And yet, he stayed dry. There was a soft humming sound from all around him accompanied by a faint glow, but not a drop of water touched him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Harry Black as he vanished the pool of water that had landed on the floor. “We thank you all for your assistance.”

The six students took their seats, and Blaise brought his broom down to the floor while Harry continued their presentation.

“As you can see, the incorporation of the modified Protego Orbis into the rune matrix of the broom functioned exactly as designed. While the shield is active, the broom and its rider are surrounded by a low-intensity shield that protects from all angles. While not sufficient to block any serious attacks, it is sufficient to render both broom and rider completely waterproof. Unfortunately, this basic design requires that the shield be powered by the same Sowilo rune that powers the broom’s flight capability, and so the broom can fly neither as fast nor as high as it could without the shield’s incorporation. We believe, however, that further modifications to the rune scheme can overcome that problem. While it will be some time before this shield can be incorporated into the design of competition level brooms appropriate for racing or Quidditch, it can easily be added to the design of most ordinary brooms used for everyday travel in order to protect the rider from inclement weather such as rain and snow.”

Harry looked around the room.

“Are there any questions?” he asked.

Sue Li raised her hand with a speculative expression. “How much damage can the shield handle. Could it defend against curses?”

The two boys looked at one another. “Not with this design,” Blaise said. “Protego Orbis is a specialized ablative shield that degrades quickly from direct hits from any genuinely dangerous spell, although the speed and maneuverability of the broom itself should help with dodging attacks like that.”

Hermione raised her hand next. “What are the pressure limitations?”

Harry blinked. “Sorry, I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“Well, your Protego Orbis protects from water coming from many angles. Could it protect from a force coming from all angles simultaneously without collapsing. I guess what I’m trying to ask is, could you take this broom underwater as a submersible?”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he smiled at the question. Once again, he regretted that Hermione had not been on his team, even if it had been Fate that insisted otherwise.

“That’s a very interesting question. Whether or not it’s possible to use this to make a functioning magical submarine of some kind, I couldn’t say. My instinct is that it’s not possible with a standard rune scheme for a broom. But I would have to defer to Professor Babbling to be sure.”

With that, he turned to the witch in question with a genuinely curious expression on his face, and Babbling smiled back indulgently.

“It is indeed an interesting question. As we discussed on the very first day of class, the basic scheme for a flying broom calls for Eiwaz, Raido, Ehwaz, and Sowilo to symbolize wood, journey, horse, and power. In principle, those runes could allow for travel through water instead of air, though the invocation of ‘horse’ for something meant to go very deep underwater might pose problems of symbology. Then again, horses are associated with water in some cultures. The ancient Greeks believed that the first horse was created by Poseidon.”

She turned to address Harry and Blaise. “I would certainly recommend you continue researching the possible applications of this ingenious rune scheme, Mr. Black and Mr. Zabini. Congratulations! A well-earned O!”

The two elated boys shook hands warmly. Other than the Goldstein Group, they were the only team project so far to earn an Outstanding for their practical end-of-term project.

Which, of course, made it even more imperative that Harry bring Anthony, Sue, and Hermione into his summer plans.

Hogwarts
5 June 1994
4:30 p.m.

“So … you’ve heard then?” Percy asked quietly. He was on his way to a meeting with his siblings about which he was already anxious when a visibly furious Penelope Clearwater crossed his path.

“About the Crouch assistantship, Percy?” she said in a tight voice. “Yes, I’ve heard. Congratulations. Although I’m wondering why I had to hear it from the Head Boy instead of you. Understandably, he’s not happy about it either.”

“Penny, I’m sorry!” the Gryffindor said plaintively. “I was going to tell you later tonight. Anyway, I’m sure there was a good reason. And not just because ….”

“We both know what the reason is, even if you don’t want to admit it. I’m Head Girl. Bobby is Head Boy. Our grades are as good as yours. And yet Crouch hired you for a prestigious job that we all three applied for without even waiting for our NEWTs scores to come back. So what do you think the reason was?”

“Penny, you know me. I have never sought to use blood status to get ahead.”

“Oh come on, Percy. You never needed to. Everyone knows the Weasleys are in the Sacred 28 even if you’re the only family on the list that has the decency to be embarrassed about it! Still, you’d have thought Crouch would at least go through the formality of given Bobby and me an interview! But no! The way I heard it, the only real competition you had was from Selena Harper, whose grades aren’t as good as any of us but who’s family tree is missing a few branches!”

“Penelope!” Percy snapped. “That is a horrible thing to say about Selena. Look, I’m sorry you didn’t get the job, and I’m equally sorry that you think my Pureblood lineage gave me an unfair advantage. But I can’t help the fact of who my ancestors married. Nor can I help the fact that the bigotry in our society may have given me an unfair advantage I never asked for.”

“Well look on the bright side,” she said while removing a charm bracelet from her wrist and handing it over to a shocked Percy. “At least now, I have no reason not to leave this backwards country as soon as I get my NEWTs results. And you won’t have to worry about the stigma of a Halfblood girlfriend undermining your job prospects!”

With that, Penelope walked away, ignoring Percy as he called after her. After a few seconds, Percy paused to rub his eyes and put the charm bracelet in his pocket. Then, he continued to his meeting, hoping it would go better than the one he’d just left.

A few moments later, a somber Percy stepped into an empty classroom to find Ron, Ginny, and the Twins already waiting for him. Unsurprisingly, the Twins were on opposite sides of the room. Once inside, Percy cast both a NEWT level locking spell and a Silencing Charm on the door.

“What’s this all about, Percy?” asked George. “You said you have a message for us from Dad, but you wanted to tell us all together.”

He glared at Fred. “Although I don’t see why you needed us all in one place.”

Percy took a deep breath and nodded towards Ron and Ginny, who moved to stand on either side of him.

“Well, I do have an announcement. Two related announcements, actually. First, Dad has gotten tickets for all of us in the Ministry booth for the Quidditch World Cup. We’ll be portkeying onto the grounds with the Diggorys for the Finals!”

“Blimey!” Fred exclaimed. “That’s awesome!” George looked equally as excited … until Percy dropped the second announcement.

“Well, I say we will be going. However, I’ve discussed the matter with Dad. He and Mum are still very cross with you two over that nonsense on your birthday, and he has instructed me to tell you both that unless you get over your ridiculous feud, neither of you will be attending the World Cup!”

“What?!?” George exclaimed.

“But that’s not fair!!” Fred added.

“You should have thought of that before you ruined the birthday party that our mother had slaved to prepare for you!” Percy said somewhat pompously.

“Hey! He started that fight!” George said while pointing an accusing finger at his twin.

“Rubbish! You started it with that mouth of yours! I was just the one to turn it into a food fight!” Fred sneered angrily. “But don’t worry! I’ll be finishing it too. Our OWLs results will be in before the Cup. And I aced my Potions OWL. So once I’ve won our little bet, that will be the end of it.”

George fumed at that, but Ron spoke up before he could say anything.

“Do you really think that will be the end of it, Fred? Either you’ll win, and George will have to give up being a prefect and drop Ancient Runes, and he’ll resent you for it forever. Or George’ll win, and you’ll be a sore loser about it!”

“A sore loser! Moi!” Fred sputtered angrily.

“Oh come on!” George snapped. “It’s all you can do not to be a sore winner, you git! Besides, I ought to call this bet off anyway! I finally found out yesterday that you’re only doing so well in Potions because Hermione helped you out with inside information, you cheater!”

Fred bowed up dangerously. “You take that back! I never cheated. All she gave me was references to some potions research that Snape did when he was younger! I still did all the reading and all the work, while you spent all your time Percying around in Ancient Bloody Runes!”

“I really wish people would stop using my name as an insult,” Percy muttered. But it was Ginny who spoke aloud.

“STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “I hate that you’re acting like this! Bill and Charlie have both moved away and we never see them anymore. A-a-and soon, Percy will /sniff/ will probably be moving out when he gets his Ministry job! But /sniff/ I always thought you two would still be there for your turn as my big brothers!”

By this point, Ginny paused to wipe away a tear, and her voice hitched.

“You know, I wasn’t actually planning on moving….” Percy began before Ron elbowed him in the side while Ginny continued.

“You two were always the ones I could count on,” the Slytherin girl sobbed. “Gred and Forge, who always brought joy and laughter to everyone around them! /sniff/ But now look at you! You’ve let jealousy and pettiness tear you apart! I … I can’t bear it!”

With that, the distraught girl whirled around and buried her face in Percy’s surprised chest as she began to cry loudly. Percy looked down at her head in confusion, while Ron stepped over to pat her on the shoulder while fixing the Twins with an angry glare.

“Now look what you’ve done!” he snapped.

Both Fred and George looked shaken and abashed at the sight of their little sister crying her eyes out over their actions.

“Look … Ginny,” Fred began. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. But look at it from my point of view. George and I spent years talking about our plans for the future. And then, he just tosses them all aside the moment someone sends him a bloody Prefect’s badge in the mail! The way I see it, maybe he needs to be taken down a peg for his own good!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!? I didn’t toss anything aside when I became a Prefect!”

“Oh no?” Fred said, his temper rising again. “Don’t pretend you still want to open a joke shop! I saw you talking to Bill about becoming a curse-breaker!”

“No, idiot! You saw Bill talking to me about me becoming a curse-breaker and me backing away slowly! No way am I spending the rest of my life raiding tombs and dodging dark curses or any of that nonsense! I still have every intention of opening a joke shop! Now whether it’s one I open alongside you or one I open down the street from you as a competitor is kind of up in the air now, but I’ve never changed my plans!”

“Oh pull the other one, George! Who ever heard of a Hogwarts prefect opening a joke shop?!?”

George snorted. “Well, the only other wizarding joke shop in Britain is Zonko’s, and I don’t know if he was ever a prefect or not, but a sample of one is hardly a trend.”

“Hang on,” added Ron, “didn’t you guys figure out that the Marauders included Professor Lupin and James Potter? Aren’t they your prankster idols or whatever? Well, one of those was a prefect and the other was Head Boy! That should count for something, shouldn’t it?”

Fred started to say something insulting to Ron, but then, he caught sight of Ginny looking back at him with a tear-stained face, and he faltered. After a few seconds, he turned back to George, now a bit calmer.

“And you think all this prefect guff and faffing about with Ancient Runes is going to help when we open up our store? It’s not just to lord over me?”

“I don’t know if being a prefect will help,” George replied. “Although I suspect it might make it easier to, I dunno, get a loan or something if the professors here will write letters of recommendation for me instead of warning everyone I’m a menace to society. But I’m glad to be taking Ancient Runes, because my own rune working has already gotten much better. If nothing else, I’m pretty sure I’ll the Extendable Ears ready by the end of the summer!”

“… Extendable Ear?” Ron whispered.

“Best not to ask,” Percy answered softly.

“And I never wanted to lord anything over you or anybody else,” George added. “But yeah, I do kinda like it that people recognize that I’ve got a brain to go with this charm and these good lucks. And I just disappointed you don’t feel the same, to be honest.”

“Pfft!” Fred snorted. “I don’t care whether anyone recognizes my obvious genius or not, least of all a teacher!”

“Oh come on, Fred!” Percy exclaimed. “You were awarded points by Professor Snape. Professor Snape. Gave points. For a potion you made! I’ve been here seven years, and I’ve never heard of Snape giving any Gryffindor points for anything we do in class!”

“Well,” Ron added. “There was that time he gave points to Hermione for calling Jim a braying ass!”

“Be that as it may!” Percy continued, annoyed at the interruption. “Honestly, Fred. After all this work you put in to, as you put it, ace your Potions OWL, do you really mean to say that even if you score an O, you won’t continue on to NEWTs potions? Has it not occurred to you that NEWT level Potions is where you’ll, oh I don’t know, learn to make candies that can turn people into canaries safely instead of sending them to the Hospital Ward?”

Fred absorbed that with a sullen expression before turning back to George. “You still want to go into business together?”

George crossed is arms. “If you’re willing to treat it like a real business instead of a lark, and also to treat me as an equal partner, then yes!”

Fred nodded. “And you really think it will help us to be more … Percyesque here at Hogwarts?”

“Believe it or not, I do,” George answered, even as Percy rolled his eyes.

“And now, I’m an adjective,” he muttered.

Fred nodded. “Okay, then. You don’t have to give up being a prefect or drop any classes if I win the bet.” Then, he smiled wolfishly. “Instead, if I win, you have to wear a shirt to the World Cup Final that says ‘My other twin is smarter and better looking.’”

George glared at Fred for a moment … before bursting into laughter. He stepped forward to shake Fred’s hand. “It’s a deal … you prat!”

Fred laughed as well before pulling his twin into a hug. Then, as one, the Twins came over to thank Percy and Ron for their little “intervention” and to apologize to Ginny for upsetting her and making her cry. As she wiped her tears away, she smiled.

“It’s okay. I’m just happy we’re a family again. Group hug?”

And on that note, all five Weasleys came together for one massive family embrace.

Not long afterwards, as the Weasleys were leaving to head back to their respective dorms, Ron pulled Ginny aside.

“By the way,” he said in a whisper. “Just between us, that was some really nice work. Some of your best, I reckon.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ginny said innocently. Ron, obviously, was not fooled.

“Come on, Gin! I’m only one year older than you. I’ve had a lot of time to figure out that you know how to cry on cue! Mum does the same thing.”

Ginny sighed. “I know, I know. Honestly, it feels kind of cheap. Like as a Slytherin, I should be able to manipulate people more gracefully. But I was feeling a bit desperate.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining! It worked after all!” Then, Ron gave her a conspiratorial smile. “But just so you know, I’m pretty sure it won’t work on me.”

“Thanks for the tip!” she said with a predatory smile. “I’ll remember that and start working on alternative strategies for when I need you to do something for me.”

The Great Hall
19 June 1994

At the Leaving Feast, the Headmaster proudly awarded the House Cup to Slytherin to thunderous cheers from the Snakes and polite applause from everyone else. Harry personally won a lot of respect from his housemates for the points he’d earned, most notably the late award of 100 points from Dumbledore himself for “Creative Use of DADA Training and Applied Creature Handling.” That was how the Headmaster chose to describe Harry’s actions back at the end of March since “singlehandedly capturing Peter Pettigrew and then curing Remus Lupin’s lycanthropy in a single night” provided more detail than either of them wanted revealed. But even sweeter than that, Harry noted that Slytherin might have still lost to Ravenclaw had it not been for the points the Eagles had lost due to Cho Chang’s role in the attempted prank against SPAM.

In any case, Harry’s Third Year was in the books, and he was glad to see the end of it. When the grades and rankings were posted, Hermione was once more at the top of the class rankings, but it was unbelievably close between her, Harry, Padma Patil, and Anthony Goldstein, all of whom were separated by less than a single point. Jim finished a very respectable seventh thanks to a much-improved Potions grade and (rather surprisingly), an O in Divination. Even Ron did better, clawing his way into the top fifteen. But to Harry’s chagrin, Jim claimed the top score in DADA for the first time.

After Scrimgeour’s death, Remus Lupin took over as DADA instructor, and he performed ably, but his final exam had been brutal. It was an obstacle course which Harry easily navigated until the last area where he had to vanquish a Boggart. Thankfully, Remus had been advised to make sure only he was present to observe everyone’s darkest fears. Jim’s fear was still a Dementor, but it was an unusually small specimen that for some reason reminded Remus of Harry Black wearing a Dementor’s cloak. Nevertheless, Jim conquered it fairly quickly, and neither of them commented on the Boggart-Dementor’s odd appearance.

Unfortunately, Hermione had a rougher go of it. Her Boggart manifested as Harry after he’d been Kissed by a Dementor. She cast the Boggart Banishing Charm flawlessly, only for the Boggart to transform into Jim after he’d been kissed by a Dementor. Followed by Blaise Zabini’s bullet-ridden body. From there, every banishing attempt only led it to transform into someone else who’d died in her original timeline until, distraught, she finally gave up.

Harry had similar difficulties. On the bright side, he seemed to have gotten over his fears pertaining to Vernon Dursely and/or doxies, but only because other traumas had taken precedence. And while he could cast the Riddikulus, he wasn’t not quite fast enough to prevent the Boggart from simply switching to a different fear instead of fleeing. First, it was Rufus Scrimgeour lying dead. Then, it was Marcus Flint lying dead (which Remus found a bit odd). When Harry cast the Riddikulus a third time, it turned into Remus Lupin … in his werewolf form.

At that point, Harry gave up and withdrew. He did so for two reasons. First, he was afraid the manifestation, if allowed to continue, would show not the werewolf attacking him but rather it being torn apart by Harry’s magic, and he was unwilling to let the real Remus witness that image. And second, he was afraid that the Boggart would next turn into Regulus Black replaying his death scene with Sirius from the aborted timeline, and that would raise all kinds of questions with Professor Lupin. Nevertheless, it annoyed Harry to admit defeat no matter what the real reason.

Remus himself was apologetic, as he mistakenly believed that the events from the Shrieking Shack must have given Harry a mild version of wolf-fear that caused him to fail the challenge. To make up for it, Remus pulled Harry aside after the Leaving Feast to present him with a going away present.

“My plan is to be back in Britain by the Fall,” Lupin said. “But, well, one never knows what the future brings, so I wanted to give you this now. Consider it a summer class project.”

He handed over at least a dozen pages of notes bound together with twine.

“It’s all the information needed to recreate the Marauder’s Map. It might take you a while, but based on your classwork, I’m sure it’s within your capabilities, especially if Miss Granger helps.”

Harry accepted the gift warmly and wished Lupin the best on his trip to Shamballa. Then, he added “make a new Map” to his long list of summer projects.

Later that night, Harry also took part in an unusual Slytherin tradition, albeit one modified for the occasion. Every year after the Leaving Feast, the Seventh Year Slytherin prefects informed their successors of the legend of the Prince of Slytherin. This year, however, there actually was a Prince in residence, and so things went a bit differently. At around 10:00 p.m., Adrian Pucey was led into the Prince’s Lair by Titus Mitchell and Selena Harper, where Harry was waiting for them while seated on the Hydra Throne. Also present were Theo, Ginny, Amy, and Blaise (who had returned to the Lair at Harry’s invitation for this gathering). The prefects then explained to Pucey that Harry was the Prince of Slytherin, that it was a big secret he would never be able to reveal to outsiders, and that it basically meant that Harry ruled Slytherin House from behind the scenes.

Or at least, he planned to.

Pucey accepted the announcement with a surprising equanimity, and Harry noted as much.

Pucey shrugged. “You’re the Secret Master of Slytherin House? Honestly, it’s not that big of a surprise. Two questions, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. First, why isn’t Caroline here?”

Caroline Avery was the rising Seventh Year Prefect for the Slytherin girls, and Harry confessed that he didn’t know her well enough to trust her at this point. The Averys, after all, were notorious supporters of Voldemort, and while Caroline herself wasn’t from the main family line, she was a CPS member. Harry chose to exclude her from this meeting, and he would assess her trustworthiness in the Fall.

“And your other question?” Harry asked.

“Is this Prince business going to interfere with Quidditch?” Pucey asked in utter seriousness.

“Hell no,” said Ginny sharply.

Everyone laughed.

The next day …

The ride home on the Hogwarts Express was uneventful, though Harry detected an undercurrent of tension he found unsettling for reasons he couldn’t quite describe. With Theo’s Ultimate Sanction undone, the supernatural effect that led indirectly to the creation of both SPAM and the CPS had ceased to exist, and Harry had assumed that the CPS at least would wither away. SPAM was another matter, as Harry had plans for that organization unrelated to simply serving as Theo’s support group.

But to his surprise, while there was no overt hostility between the factions, the division between the two groups was still on display. Nearly everyone who’d been an active member of SPAM (with the addition of Neville, Amy, and Ginny) chose to sit together in the two Express cars at the end of the train. Even Harry and Jim claimed compartments near to one another even though they avoided direct contact. And nearly everyone who’d been active in the CPS claimed cars near the front of the train. Those students not involved in the feud took the cars in between, and, unusually for the Hogwarts Express, there was little travel between the different “zones” during the six-hour journey to London.

At Kings Cross Station, Harry disembarked and made his final goodbyes to his closest friends, even though he had plans to see most of them again soon. At the far end of the platform, he could see Jim hugging James Potter who had arrived in Muggle attire. Harry turned away before either of them saw him. Soon after, Harry, Theo, and Amy took the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron and then Flooed to what was still known as Potter Manor, at least for the time being. Harry was still deciding whether to change the name for the duration of his eighteen-year lease of the property. The trio stepped into the manor’s massive Great Hall. Artemus Podmore was waiting, along with Dobby and the four Potter elves (all of whom still seemed baffled and perhaps worried over the change in ownership).

Elmo was the Chief Elf, a position that roughly corresponded with “butler” in a well-staffed Muggle residence. Immediately, Harry noticed tension between Elmo and Dobby, but set it aside to worry about later. The other three elves were Reebo (the amiable groundskeeper), Zooty (the fussy maid), and Buttercup (the acerbic no-nonsense chef). As Artie introduced the elves, Harry could not help but be distracted by the surroundings, as the walls of the massive Great Hall had been stripped completely bare of the dozens of magical portraits that had hung here previously. When asked, Dobby explained that all the Potter portraits had been put into storage in the attic, along with everything that bore the Potter coat of arms or simply the Potter name. Harry accepted this, although Elmo looked slightly offended by the redecoration.

Harry directed the Potter elves to return to their duties. Once they were gone, Artie reached into his briefcase and pulled out a shimmering bit of cloth – the Potter Invisibility Cloak. Per the final lease agreement between Harry and James, Harry would have possession of Potter Manor for eighteen years and legal ownership of the Invisibility Cloak for four.

In fact, Harry was perfectly capable of Disillusionment by now and felt he had little need for an invisibility cloak no matter what its pedigree. He’d only accepted the Cloak that had caused his brother more problems than it had solved, rather than claiming the manor for a longer term, as a precautionary measure. Specifically, Harry was aware of Blaise Zabini’s odd interest in the Deathly Hallows and Theo No-Name’s suspicion that the Potter Cloak was one of them. Until he knew what the Zabinis really wanted with him, Harry decided it was best to make sure the item was under his control.

Not that such possession was without risk. As Artie had explained, the lease agreement meant that at the end of four years, Harry would have to turn the Cloak back over to the Potters. Given the value assigned to it by Gringotts, if Harry lost it (as Jim had done twice so far), the financial penalty would be ruinous. Thus, Artie recommended that the Cloak stay in Harry’s personal Gringotts vault unless it was needed. Harry agreed for the summer at least, but he announced that he might be taking the Cloak to Hogwarts with him in the Fall. He did reassure the solicitor that, if so, it would be behind impenetrable security, and while Artie found that unlikely, Harry thought that the Prince’s Lair might well be better security than a Gringotts vault.

Harry signed the paperwork the solicitor presented confirming that Harry had taken possession of the Cloak and the Manor, and Artie departed to place the Cloak in the boy’s vault. Then, Dobby gave the children a tour of the manor. While Harry had seen it all before, Dobby seemed eager to show off the kitchen and dining areas. The main dining room held an enormous table able to hold over twenty people, but most meals for the Potters were held in a breakfast nook attached to “the small kitchen.”

“The small kitchen?” Harry asked in surprise. “We have more than one?”

“Oh yes, Master Harry,” Dobby exclaimed excitedly. “Master Harry was not shown the large kitchen during prior visits because it is seldom in use. Historically, it was only required for large catered events, but with the passing of Lord Charlus Potter, few such affairs took place here. Indeed, in recent years, the manor has only hosted two formal events per year: The New Year’s Eve Ball and the birthday event for Master Harry’s former brother. Consequently, the large kitchen was sealed away.”

Dobby smiled indulgently as he led the children down a corridor Harry had never explored before in his prior visits.

“However, Dobby has explained Master Harry’s … eccentricities to Buttercup, and while she was appropriately scandalized at first, Dobby has persuaded her that her duties now include both assistance and instruction regarding Master Harry’s … private entertainments.”

“Instruction?” Harry asked. “And what sort of … private entertainments are we talking about?”

The boy’s voice trailed off as Dobby opened a set of double doors to lead them into the large kitchen. And it was a very large kitchen, twice the size of the one in Longbottom Manor and easily big enough to contain the Dursley’s kitchen four times over. There were three ovens, two sets of burners, and four huge, industrial-sized ice boxes. Immediately, Harry’s eyes were drawn to a nearby wall which had bookshelves that stretched up to the ceiling full of nothing but cookbooks. He walked over to them in a daze and read the covers.

Magical Cooking the French Way. A Wizard’s Guide to Patisserie. 1001 Indian Curries You Can Make with a Wand. The Art of Portuguese Desserts. A Beginner’s Guide to Viking Cuisine. And many, many more.

Harry turned towards Theo and Amy who seemed baffled by his reaction. He grinned in delight.

“I’m home.”

4 Privet Drive, Surrey

With a loud crack, James and Jim Potter Apparated into the backyard of 4 Privet Drive. Jim looked around almost suspiciously. The yard was very overgrown and enclosed by a large privacy fence. The two-story Muggle home loomed over them almost menacingly.

“So … this is it?” Jim said slowly.

“Yep!” James said with forced cheerfulness as he unlocked the back door. “We have to Apparate into the backyard because we can’t let the Muggles see us do it in the front. Way too many questions.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jim followed his father into the kitchen, his trunk following behind with a flick of James’s wand. The only furniture was a simple table with four chairs. Through the doorway, Jim could see a mostly empty living room. Calling the place spartan was an insult to Sparta. The Burrow was much better furnished than this.

Jim sighed dejectedly and tried to put on a brave face. He’d fully accepted that virtually all the Potter wealth would have to be sacrificed to save his father from Azkaban or death. He’d written Harry a letter begging him to save James, whatever it took. And Harry had done it. He’d overcome the Oath of Enmity and saved James at the cost of beggaring House Potter. Jim had no regrets about paying such a price for his father’s sake. Nevertheless, it was only now that Jim began to truly appreciate the fact that he was now poor.

Jim Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the Heir Apparent to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter … was poor.

“Do, uh, we have anything to eat?” he asked. James winced.

“Sorry, no. I, um, well … to be honest, I was kind of intimidated about going to a grocery store until your mother could go with me. I’ve been Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron for take-out most days.”

“How can you afford it?” Jim asked before he could catch himself. He had not meant the question to come out that so bluntly.

“Hogwarts pays into a separate account for Lily, and she, uh, authorized me to access it for household expenses. Just until I can get another job, of course.”

Jim nodded. “So … when will Mum be here … I mean, be home.”

“She said around 7:00. Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack? Your room is the one at the end of the hall.”

“Okay,” the boy said before hesitating. “Is that where Harry slept?”

James coughed suddenly at the question and hoped desperately that Jim didn’t notice as he instinctively cut his eyes towards the cupboard for just a second.

“No, no. His was … the one to the left of the stairs on the opposite end from yours. I think your room was a guest bedroom. It’s bigger and it’s got a better view than Harry’s old room, so .., there’s … that….”

He trailed off lamely. Jim nodded and did not ask any questions about why the guest room was bigger and better than Harry’s room. He just turned, picked up his trunk, and headed up the stairs. Inside his room, he found a small dresser, a single bed, and a desk and chair in front of a window.

Jim wrinkled his nose. The room stank of potpourri. He dropped his trunk and went to open the window. The “view,” such as it was, showed nothing but the back garden and the tops of the houses on the other side of the privacy fence. After a moment, he left his new room and went to see where Harry had slept. It was indeed smaller despite being completely empty, with only a cramped little window and a single hanging bulb for a light. Jim felt depressed just looking at it. He returned to his own room, laid down on the lumpy twin bed, and closed his eyes without even bothering to unpack his things.

A few hours later, there was a whoosh from what had once been the Dursleys’ dining room that heralded the arrival of Lily Potter. The largest fireplace was in the living room, but that one had been blocked off and replaced with an electric fire. Since the Potters had no formal dining room furniture, that room had been set aside as “the room where all the magical stuff is kept.” The plan was for Lily to set up a rune scheme over the whole room so that any ambient magic in here wouldn’t interfere with the Muggle technology in the rest of the house.

Lily stepped through and surveyed the room. With an idle flick of her wand, two trunks followed her through, one of which she directed to the far corner. It contained all her potions equipment (as well as all her books from her former “Boudoir,” still shrunken and locked away). James came down the stairs to greet her,

“Welcome to the House of Potter,” he said with another forced smile before pulling her in for a hug and a kiss.

“Where’s Jim?” she asked.

“Upstairs in his room. He seemed a bit down. I thought we’d go out to eat later.”

“Of course,” she replied. “But tomorrow, you and I are going grocery shopping followed by an elementary introduction to Muggle cooking. We can’t afford to eat out three meals a day.”

He nodded but then suddenly looked pensive.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s nothing major but … I put all our stuff in the master bedroom. It’s the biggest and it’s got its own en suite. But ….” James swallowed. “Do you know how Vernon died?”

Lily tensed. “What do you mean? It was a heart attack.”

“Well, yeah. But did you know he was in bed with Petunia when it happened? And was awake for part of it. Are you okay with sleeping in the same room where he … you know?”

She stared for a moment before answering. “It’s fine with me if it’s okay with you. I’m not going to let it bother me.”

James nodded, and they passed from “the Magic Room” into the hallway. She immediately stopped when she saw the door to the cupboard.

“Is … is that it?” she asked.

“Yeah. I haven’t told Jim anything about that. Do you think we should?”

“No,” Lily answered quickly. “Not now, at least. Is … is there anything in there? … Of his?”

James shook his head. “Not anymore. I cleaned it out and put everything in the closet in our room in case you wanted to look through it. But ….”

“What?”

He looked stricken. “There was a drawing in there. Of us. He must have been just a little kid when he put it up there. It says ‘Harry’s Room,’ and there are pictures of you, me … and Sirius. He must have somehow remembered us for years after … after we left him here.”

Lily put her hand on James’s cheek. “I know it’s going to be rough. But we can’t just wallow in the shame of our mistakes. We have to move forward now. Do what we can for Jim. And hope that once the Oath of Enmity is over, we can work to earn Harry’s forgiveness.”

He nodded. “So … dinner?”

“Definitely. Go upstairs and get Jim. I need to get the rest of my things.”

“Sure, Lily-Flower.” He kissed her cheek before heading upstairs. Lily watched him go and then turned to regard the cupboard door with a cold expression.

“No regrets,” she said harshly as she recalled the last time she’d been in this house. “None at all.”

The Potters Flooed back from the Leaky Cauldron around 8:30 p.m. Both Lily and James noted that Jim seemed somewhat withdrawn, but he resisted any subtle inquiries about his mood and neither of them was ready to push matter. Once back at 4 Privet Drive, Lily patiently explained to her two boys how to safely turn on the television set, and father and son sat and watched mesmerized as giant wingless dragons rampaged through a Muggle amusement park. This, in turn, led to lengthy explanations from Lily about dinosaurs, cloning, special effects, and Muggle fiction in general.

“Why don’t wizards have … movies?” Jim asked.

“That’s a very complicated question, but the short answer is that no one ever figured out how to use magic to record pictures and sounds in a format that could later replay them for other people.”

“You two should work on that,” Jim said as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “I bet whoever figured it out first would make a fortune!”

Sadly, no brilliant plans to revolutionize wizarding entertainment were made that night, although quite a few plans for the Potters’ summer were laid out.

Much, much later, all the Potters were in bed asleep and dreaming. Jim dreamt of flying on shadowy wings on a quest for glittering objects. The dream always ended with images of dead loved ones followed by a living nightmare rising from a cauldron.

James dreamt of standing in the Great Hall of Potter Manor to answer to the angry portraits of his ancestors for his sins and disastrous mistakes. The dream always ended with him suddenly embarrassed to realized he was naked.

Lily dreamt of sitting in this very bedroom, calmly and clinically explaining to Petunia the nature of the murderous revenge she was about to take against Vernon Dursley. The dream always ended with the terrible nagging suspicion that in her fury, she had forgotten something important.

Lily shuddered in the bed she shared with James and rolled over to wrap the covers tighter around herself as if she were suddenly cold despite the warm June night. Neither she nor James opened their eyes to see the pale figure who stood at the foot of their bed watching them sleep.

“No regrets,” whispered the ghost of Vernon Dursley “None at all.”

21 June 1994
Eastern Europe

Since their explosive escape from the Ministry of Magic, Pettigrew and Rookwood had maintained a surprisingly low profile. The illegal International Portkey they delivered them to an old Death Eater safe house on the coast of the Adriatic. Rookwood spent several weeks assessing and repairing the damage done to his psychic architecture by his recent experiences. He felt confident that his mental powers would soon be restored to their peak. He also felt certain that if he ever met a chap named Tiny Tim, he would torture the filthy Muggle to insanity and beyond. While Rookwood was in meditation, Pettigrew was in the nearby woods in his rat form, making new friends among the rat community and searching for those special “truly clever” rats that were fit to join his little family. Socrates, Templeton, and Dock needed company, after all.

Finally, on the morning of the summer solstice, the two Death Eaters felt the call through their Dark Marks. It was time. Pettigrew entered the secret room hidden behind his picture of the Marauders and returned with his precious cargo. Then, he took the picture itself off the wall and packed it with their other meager possessions before Apparating to the coordinates sent to them through the Mark.

They found themselves on the grounds of what had once been an impressive estate in the hinterlands of Magical Albania but had since fallen into ruin. As the two men drew closer to the front door, however, they passed through the glamours responsible for that apparent decay, and the ruins were revealed to be an actual castle as impressive as the dwelling of any Ancient and Noble family back in Britain. As they approached the front door, it opened, and a young woman stepped out to greet them.

“Mr. Norvegicus. Mr. Nemo. I bid you welcome. Enter freely and of your own will.”

Pettigrew rolled his eyes at the invitation, but Rookwood merely looked at the woman quizzically.

“Forgive me, young lady, but you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Allow me,” drawled Pettigrew. “This is Cassilda Selwyn, Seneschal to the Ancient and Noble House of Selwyn and grand-daughter of Lord Selwyn himself. I assume she is here as his representative.”

“Indeed,” Cassilda said tartly. “As you can imagine, Grandfather doesn’t get out much anymore. And for purposes of this gathering, you may address me as Miss Vespertine. Come.”

She led the two men into the manse where a man in butler’s livery was on hand to take their coats. It took Pettigrew a second to realize that the butler was, in fact, quite dead, and yet still able to provide impeccable (if utterly silent) service. Despite himself, Peter shuddered at the reminder of what specialties House Selwyn brought to their alliance.

Cassilda led the two men further into the house. In the grand foyer, there stood a large tank filed with a translucent green liquid. Inside was a large writhing something that raised the hackles on the back of Peter’s neck. For all his power, Peter Pettigrew would always be a rat inside, and he knew that this was something that hunted his kind.

The surface of the tank gurgled slightly, and the something bumped up against the side. It was difficult to see, but Peter thought it was some kind of snake. He also thought it had two heads.

“What breed of snake is this?” he asked cautiously.

“Breeds, Pettigrew,” she said silkily. “Seven different breeds of snake which are presently being fused into one perfect serpent. A familiar worthy of our Lord, don’t you think?”

Peter nodded silently while Rookwood stepped closer to inspect the tank. “Your family’s work, Miss Vespertine?”

“House Selwyn provided the raw materials, but the formula was developed by the Dark Lord. Even in his current … condition, he was able to advise us as to the potion’s composition and on what snakes to use.”

She laughed. “My Auntie Camilla prepared the potion. She was delighted to learn something new about the rather obscure field of biothaumaturgy and looks forward to incorporating our Lord’s wisdom into her own experiments. With the Dark Lord’s permission, of course. And speaking of our Lord, this way, gentlemen.”

Cassilda led the men further into the manor house. Eventually, she came to a set of sliding oak doors which she thrust open. On the other side was a large parlor where a small but unusual group awaited. On a couch sat Narcissa Black (Miss Direction) who gave Peter a meaningful look that made his pulse quicken. She reached down to accept a glass of wine from a particularly decrepit house elf. Next to Narcissa sat Tiberius Nott (Mr. Nimrod), who was trying unsuccessfully to hide the utter terror he felt at being here. Across the room, Barty Crouch Jr. (Mr. January) leaned casually against the wall near the fireplace. He had a single gold galleon in his hand which he was absent-mindedly rolling between his fingers. His face bore its typical cold mask that perfectly concealed the raging emotions underneath.

Finally, sitting in a rocking chair in the middle of the room, Peter saw Yetta Garshi, whose “adoption papers” he had handled back when he was a respectable solicitor instead of a wanted terrorist. The Albanian witch stared vacantly with her mouth hanging open slightly, and she gently rocked back and forth in her chair, oblivious to everything including the tiny bundle of joy in her arms. Peter sniffed the air, and his Animagus senses could detect the merest hint of decay. It was the only sign that Yetta Gershi was already quite dead and what sat before him like a blasphemous Madonna was just an exceptionally well-crafted Inferius.

“Missster Norvegicusss.”

The voice was faint, high-pitched and almost-but-not-quite a gurgle, exactly what one would expect from a newborn babe who had somehow come out of the womb already able to speak. Despite himself, Peter shuddered, though at least he didn’t outright whimper like Nott did. Steeling himself, Peter stepped forward respectfully and reached into his coat to produce a wand of yew and phoenix feather that he’d been guarding all these years. He bowed and held it butt first towards the bundle and tried not to react as a pale tiny hand reached out to clutch it tightly with that strange grasping instinct all babies have. The wand twisted slowly until it was pointing straight up.

“LUMOSSS,” hissed the thing in the bundle. Instantly, a savage light sprang from the wand’s tip. Reflexively, Peter looked down at the floor until the light faded. Another softer hiss emerged from the bundle, and in response, the corpse of Yetta Garshi shifted in her chair. She carefully reached up to pull the swaddling clothes away and expose the infant’s head.

It was a pale, ghastly and hairless thing. But other than that, it looked much as any newborn babe might look … save for its terrible eyes. They glowed red like hellfire, and peering into them made Peter’s head hurt. And yet, despite the pain, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“You have ssserved me well, Mr. Norvegicusss. But are you willing to make the sssacrificesss necessssary to become … my greatessst ssservant?”

Despite himself, Peter glanced down at his wand hand and instinctively flexed his fingers. Then, he fortified himself and returned Voldemort’s gaze without fear.

“I am, my Lord. I will serve you with all my heart and soul. And when the time comes, whatever you ask of me will be freely given.”

“Ki-ki-ki,” the blasphemous infant laughed softly in the manner of snakes. “Good. My true Death Eatersss stand with me. Our circle is forged anew.”

The others moved to join Pettigrew so that their master could view them all.

“At last,” said Voldemort, “we are ready to begin.”

TO BE CONTINUED IN

HARRY BLACK AND THE RESURRECTION GAME

BEGINNING SEPTEMBER 1, 2020