Chapter Twenty-Five of 'Casualties of Politics'- Collisions

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Five—Collisions

Ginny came down the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room, yawning behind her hand. She had been up late the night before practicing elemental magic. Still, it was worth it. She was pretty sure that she had managed to summon a bit of wind before she fell asleep.

Her only warning was, “Hey, Weasley!”

Ginny turned around, and saw a hex hurtling at her. She was still on the stairs, and she didn’t really have anywhere to go. She flattened and braced herself as best as she could, trying to summon some wind up in front of her to use as a shield.

It didn’t work. The hex slammed into her, and Ginny felt her skin turning scaly and warty at the same moment as her balance wavered on the stairs.

She snatched at the banisters, but she didn’t manage to grab them. Ginny slid down the stairs, crying out as her head smashed into the edge of a step. She was dizzy and near-vomiting when she crumped into the carpet at the base of the stairs, her hands clenched around her head.

She heard laughter, but that was distant. Everything was so dizzy. Why couldn’t she stand up? Why wouldn’t the world stop spinning?

Then she heard a scream.

Ginny tried to fight her way back to her feet. She was convinced the scream was Luna, who wouldn’t have been far behind her coming out of the first-year girls’ bedroom. She had to get up and reassure Luna she was fine.

But she sagged down to her knees again, and had to look up the stairs, fighting hard to blink away black spots and colored ones from her vision.

Marietta Edgecombe—she had to have been the one who’d hexed Ginny—was cowering near the top of the stairs, screaming, her hands rising to claw at her hair. It was on fire. Ginny blinked and stared, but no, it really did seem to be on fire.

Behind her was Luna, and the magic pouring out of her was pounding at the air in waves. She stared at Edgecombe, and the fire got worse.

Ginny was torn between thinking Edgecombe fully deserved it, glee that Luna had managed to summon elemental fire when they hadn’t advanced far in those lessons, and alarm in case someone recognized it as elemental. She tried again to stand up.

Luna glanced at her, and Ginny stopped. This was the first time she had ever seen Luna really angry, she thought. Luna acted quietly upset when someone stole her things from her or called her Loony, but only if you really knew her and could see it. Ginny had literally never seen her in a rage.

It was frightening.

“Luna,” she said, wincing as her voice came out slurred and wavering. It was probably the scales and warts that were all along her jaws. “I’m all right.”

She wasn’t, Ginny thought. She probably had a concussion and needed to go to the hospital wing. But “all right” in the sense of “alive” would have to be enough for right now.

By this time, Edgecombe’s shrieks had brought other Ravenclaws tumbling out of their dormitories and some up from the common room where they must have been reading. They stared at Ginny, then at Edgecombe, and finally one of the prefects, Adrian Arlington, waved his wand to try and quench the fire.

It didn’t work.

Ginny finally managed to get her feet, which felt as if they’d been twisted into hooves, back underneath her. She stood up and said loudly, “Luna, it’s all right. I fell, but I’m going to be okay.”

Luna glanced at her, a steady, evaluating glance like the one Harry used in the kitchens sometimes, and then nodded. The fire went out.

Edgecombe started to cry. A few people went to her side to comfort her, Arlington stepped up towards Luna, and other people crowded around Ginny.

“Are you okay, Weasley?” asked one of them, a tall girl Ginny thought was a third-year but didn’t recognize. She waved her wand and stared at the numbers the spell pulled up on the air, which didn’t mean anything to Ginny. “You have a concussion!” She glared up in Edgecombe’s direction. “That was a nasty hex.”

Ginny nodded and then wobbled on her feet. She was mostly surprised that someone cared. Before this, everyone had acted as though Edgecombe’s bullying was just the sort of thing she and Luna had to endure.

Maybe it’s different because it happened right in front of everyone, or because she made me fall and hurt myself.

“I didn’t mean to!” Edgecombe sobbed.

“Come on, Weasley,” said one of the prefects, pushing his or her way towards Ginny. Ginny’s vision was blurring so badly that she couldn’t even tell if it was a boy or a girl, and she couldn’t tell from the voice, either. “Hospital wing.”

“Luna was just trying to protect me,” Ginny said through numb lips. She hated that Luna was probably going to have to talk with Professor Flitwick and Ginny wouldn’t be right there to help her.

“That’s something for you to worry about later. Somnio.”

Ginny sank into darkness under the Sleep Charm, her last waking thought for some time that she didn’t know what was going to happen with Edgecombe and Luna, but she was going to do something about it if Edgecombe lied.

*

“Did you hear that Ginny’s in the hospital wing?”

Harry looked up, startled. Ron had sat down next to Harry at the Gryffindor table. Most of the time, they didn’t talk that much, since Hermione was the one who spent the most time “tutoring” Harry and Ron was really Felix’s friend. But Ron was so pale now that he looked like he might faint, and Harry was the only other Gryffindor in the Great Hall this early in the morning.

He probably just needs someone to talk to, yes, said Riddle’s impatient voice. Find out what it is.

“What happened? Did she have a broom accident?” It wouldn’t surprise Harry that much. Ginny had confessed to the people in the kitchen group how she used to sneak out and jimmy the lock on the broom shed at the Burrow to fly her brothers’ brooms.

“No.” Ron buried his head in his hands. His fingers were trembling. Harry wondered if Felix would reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. Probably. But that wasn’t the kind of thing Harry was good at. “One of her Housemates hexed her.”

“What kind of hex?”

“The Uglifying Hex.” Ron shuddered and dropped his hands. “It covers you with warts and scales. But they did it while Ginny was on the stairs, and she turned and fell down them. She has a concussion. And her friend Loony did something to the person who hexed her, and now Loony has detention.”

Luna, Harry almost said, but the faint sliver of outrage at Ron was drowned by the much sharper outrage he felt over the other things Ron was saying. “What about the person who hexed her?”

“Oh, they have detention, too. I think—I think Ginny said her name was Marietta Edgecombe. It was kind of hard to understand her with all the scales clustered around her mouth.”

Harry’s hands tightened under the table. He flicked a glance at the Ravenclaw table. Of course neither Ginny nor Luna was there, but the girl Harry thought was Marietta Edgecombe was, sitting near the end of the bench with a few friends. Her hair looked singed, and she wore a frazzled expression.

Not nearly as frazzled as she’ll wear when I’m done with her.

Harry hadn’t interfered in the bullying that Ginny and Luna had talked about—well, Luna had hinted around about—because they had acted like they wanted to handle it on their own, and like it wasn’t that bad. Mostly stealing Luna’s things and whinging about Ginny to Professor Flitwick.

But now Ginny was in the hospital wing, and Luna had detention.

You’ll regret what you did, Harry thought, almost wishing he was telepathic.

Riddle laughed darkly in the back of his head.

*

“Miss Weasley, I must ask you if you have left the hospital wing.”

Ginny blinked up at Professor Flitwick. She personally thought she was fine to return to Ravenclaw Tower, since Madam Pomfrey had reversed the hex and the last scales had faded into her skin. Oh, and she had taken a potion that had healed the concussion. But Madam Pomfrey had wanted to keep her overnight and then until lunch today for observation. “No, sir. You can ask Madam Pomrey or her wards if you don’t believe me.”

Professor Flitwick gave a small sigh and sat down on the chair next to her bed. “I ask simply because Marietta Edgecombe has suffered a—series of accidents.”

“And you think I hexed her, sir?”

“I wondered if you had. Or if you had arranged with someone else to do so.”

Ginny shook her head. “No, sir.” She paused. “Did Edgecombe get detention?”

“Yes, of course, Miss Weasley. She has lines with me for a week about what she did to you, and has been restricted from her Quidditch privileges.”

Ginny hadn’t even known that Edgecombe was on the Ravenclaw team, but she supposed that was part of what she got for sticking so closely with Luna and her studies. And first-years weren’t allowed to play, anyway.

“Luna told me she has detention, sir.”

“For burning Miss Edgecombe’s hair, yes.”

“Are you going to give Edgecombe detention for stealing Luna’s things and calling her Loony?”

Professor Flitwick sighed. “Miss Weasley, nicknames are not against the rules.”

“What about theft?”

“Miss Lovegood has always got her things back, from what I was told, and Miss Edgecombe swears she was not behind most of the thefts.”

“Most of them.” Ginny leaned forwards. “Sir, I want to know why you won’t do more to protect Luna. She’s just a first-year, and Edgecombe is a third-year. Two years older, two years bigger and stronger. Do you not want to give her detention because she’s on the Quidditch team? Is she related to someone important in the Ministry? What is it?”

“Of course not, Miss Weasley!”

Professor Flitwick looked honestly shocked by her suggestions, at least. Ginny nodded. “All right, sir. I’d still like a reason.”

“The accusations that you bring most of the time are baseless,” Professor Flitwick said firmly. “Miss Edgecombe is a good student, and calling Miss Lovegood by a nickname is—not nice, but I believe that my students need a little toughening. We eagles tend to be too caught up in our books and have our heads in the clouds too much, otherwise. And you have not actually seen her steal Miss Lovegood’s things, have you?”

“I’ve seen her handle them and refuse to give them back when Luna asked for them, Professor.”

“But that is not proof of thievery.”

Ginny didn’t say anything. She thought she understood, though (with maybe the thought that Professor Flitwick did try to avoid giving detention to Edgecombe because she was on the Quidditch team and he wanted to win the Cup). Professor Flitwick wanted logic and proof and clear-cut evidence. He couldn’t get that if people only told him afterwards and no one actually saw Edgecombe stealing something from Luna’s trunk.

Ginny would have to go it alone. Well, she and Luna would have to go it alone.

Professor Flitwick stood up and patted her arm. “I’m glad you’re all right, Miss Weasley.”

Suddenly remembering why he had come in the first place, Ginny asked, “Professor, what were the accidents that Edgecombe was suffering? Why did you think I hexed her?”

Professor Flitwick hesitated. “Oh, well, Miss Edgecombe has been—she choked at breakfast yesterday morning, as if a piece of food had been caught in her throat. But no food was found. Then she missed a step on one of the staircases and fell. She insisted there had been ice under her foot, but no one could find any ice, either, which makes me think it was probably a Tripping Jinx. Her hair caught on fire again, and her books. She choked at lunch and at dinner, even though she was only eating soup. And she came to me complaining of feeling extremely cold, as though someone had cast the Freezing Charm at her. Or more properly, her blood. But everything was fine when I examined her, including normal blood circulation.”

Ginny had a hard time keeping her face straight. She managed to nod solemnly a few times as if she had no idea what could be happening.

Thank you, Harry.

“Some of those do sound like hexes, sir,” Ginny murmured. “But maybe she was choking because she was eating too fast? Or just tripped because the staircases have trick steps?”

“Yes, yes, I suppose that’s possible,” Professor Flitwick said, and perceptibly brightened. Ginny hid a smile. That was the way to handle him. Provide what sounded like a logical explanation and Professor Flitwick would go for that instead of ruminating about whether someone with powerful and dangerous elemental magic was stalking Edgecombe. “Do make sure that you let me know if you need any of your notes for your classes yesterday or this morning, Miss Weasley.”

He left, then, and Ginny leaned back and folded her arms behind her head. Her mouth twisted. She didn’t like having to do things on her own. She didn’t like it that professors seemed to value toughness or peace or logical explanations over stopping bullying.

But she would do the best she could to defend herself and Luna, and she would thank Harry for what he’d done. Keeping Edgecombe balanced on the edge of fear was even better than the problems he was causing.

*

“Someone’s going to find out.”

Harry met Theo’s eyes in the mirror of the boys’ bathroom they’d ducked into. It had become necessary when Professor Flitwick marched into the corridor where Harry had once again made Marietta Edgecombe choke on air. They had been all over the school, from the seventh floor to the ground one, at this point, following Edgecombe. “That I’m the one doing this?”

“That you’re using elemental magic.”

Harry shook his head. “There are too many spells that mimic the things I’m doing to her. It’ll be fine.”

Theo winced, as if about to argue against that, but then he sighed and leaned against the wall. “Are you going to be done tormenting her any time soon?”

“Ginny should be out of the hospital wing in less than an hour. Then I’m done.”

Theo frowned and tapped his fingers against the heel of his head. “You know that I’m all for revenge, but I don’t know if this is going to work the way you want it to. Will Edgecombe really connect the things you’re doing to the way she hexed Weasley and bullied Lovegood? Or will it only make her double down because she can’t believe someone would really try to defend the outcasts of Ravenclaw?”

Harry smiled, and saw the way Theo drew a little back from him. That part wasn’t something Harry liked, but he did enjoy the idea that if he could frighten Theo, he would definitely frighten Edgecombe.

“If she does that, then we’ll just have to make sure that she suffers some more,” Harry said softly.

In his head, for some reason, Riddle was silent.

*

“Mr. Potter, I can’t help noticing that something seems to be troubling you. Your forehead, perhaps?”

Your scar? Albus did not say. He could have said that. But that would lead Harry to perhaps begin thinking there was something special about it, and to think about the night he had supposedly got it, and to start seeking the truth about the horrific scene Albus and James and Lily and Sirius had uncovered that night.

No. It was better if that night lay as undisturbed as possible.

Harry blinked and looked up at him. The child always looked so locked-down, so wary. Albus had wondered for several weeks now what he could do to get the boy to trust him, but he had begun to think that he would not be able to force it on a schedule convenient to himself. He would simply continue tutoring the boy in Potions and talking to him gently, and that would be the surest road.

“I woke up this morning, sir, and I felt like I’d had a strange dream. But I couldn’t recall it. I was wondering…is there magic that can help people remember dreams?”

Occlumency would help with that. But Albus would prefer that Harry not study Occlumency. If need be, Albus wanted to reach into his mind and find the truth easily, gently, without disturbing him.

“There are a few charms that can improve memory retention,” Albus said calmly. “Would you like to learn them, Harry?”

“They’re not the kind of thing we would learn in regular Charms?”

Albus shook his head a bit. “Professor Flitwick does teach them in NEWT Charms class, but you’re very far away from deciding if you need to take that class, or qualify for it.”

“Yes, sir. Then—I suppose not. Maybe I’ll get a journal and write down a few dreams in it right after I wake up? Felix said something about that working well. You know, like a diary?”

Albus smiled. Pure relief had flooded him when he thought of Felix influencing Harry. If Harry, after the rocky beginning he’d had with the Potter family, could take Felix as his Lord, then much was going right after all. “I think that would be eminently sensible, Harry.”

Harry gave him a tentative smile back, and they went back to working on Potions. Albus couldn’t stop his smile. This had gone well, after all. It had gone nearly perfectly.

Harry would walk the road that Albus hoped for for him, the kind of road that would offer the healing and safety an abused child needed, before the inevitable end.

*

He doesn’t know about the diary. If he did, his reaction would have given it away.

Harry hadn’t thought the Headmaster did know about Riddle’s diary, not really. But if he had, then he would have made a satisfying suspect Harry could have tried to get closer to and learn more about.

Because he might have been the one who had made Riddle disappear from Harry’s head.

Harry hadn’t noticed the loss at first. Why would he? Riddle rarely said anything now, because Harry would ignore him immediately. But then he had gone through a few conversations with Felix and Gryffindor’s portrait that should have made Riddle speak up, and he…hadn’t.

Harry didn’t know when the silence had begun, either. Perhaps he’d been without Riddle for several days before he’d noticed. Perhaps it had begun the day he’d tormented Edgecombe and Riddle hadn’t responded. Harry had thought that Riddle might have returned to the diary, but the diary was still buried and blank. Harry had checked. No one had stolen it and perhaps made themselves a host for Riddle.

Harry had told Theo, who had looked grim, but only nodded. “Do you intend to tell anyone else?” he asked.

They’d been in the corridor outside the one containing Gryffindor’s portrait, where people rarely passed, but Harry had shaped the air around them anyway to direct any sound of someone coming to his ears and muffle their words. “Who would you suggest I tell?”

“My father.”

Harry actually paused. Belisarius Nott wasn’t an option that had occurred to him, despite the fact that Belisarius had kept the secret of Harry staying at his house for a week this summer. And Theo trusted him, which was a recommendation.

But not enough of one. Not when Harry had no idea how Belisarius would react to the idea of Riddle being in Harry’s head. Maybe he would think Harry was mad, or weak. “No. I don’t want to.”

Theo sighed a little and leaned against the wall with his arms folded. “All right. I’m going home for the Christmas holiday this year, of course. I wanted to know if you thought you’d be able to slip away from the Potters for a bit and visit me.”

“Is—your father would invite me?”

“Harry, my father likes you. I thought you realized that by now.”

Because I saved your life, and because he’s thinking of ways to use me. But Harry saw no reason to speak the words. Theo either knew those reasons and was content to ignore them, or he didn’t and breaking the image of his father into little pieces wouldn’t help Harry. “If I do it really early on Christmas morning, maybe? Or I’ll tell people I’m going to spend the day in the library and have Felix cast an illusion of me.”

“He’s good enough to do that?”

“Felix doesn’t have much trouble with any kind of wanded magic. Just the elemental kind.”

Theo smirked. “Well, at least there’s one thing he isn’t good at.”

Harry cocked his head. He and Theo needed to have a conversation about this, and he supposed now was as good a time as any. “You don’t need to be angry at him on my behalf, you know.”

“I’m not,” Theo said without hesitation. “I’m angry at him on mine, because he was a git to you, and you’re my friend.”

Harry sighed and decided that he didn’t want to discuss this anymore. Worrying about Riddle wasn’t productive, either. Gryffindor seemed to think the basilisk would be released no matter what happened. The only thing Harry could do was study elemental magic and Parseltongue enough to contain the basilisk when that happened.

“So, do you want me to come over during Christmas? And on what day?”

“Of course! Let’s try for a few hours on Christmas afternoon…”

*

“Ginny! Welcome home, dearest.”

Ginny leaned forwards and hugged her mother. Behind her, she could hear Luna greeting her father, voice as dreamy as always. Ginny was glad to hear her like that. She had been afraid that getting bullied so often in Ravenclaw would leave Luna bitter, but it didn’t seem to be.

She turned around to wave to Luna before facing her parents again, who were beaming at her. Behind her, Ron got off the train, chattering with Felix, and the twins just behind him.

George gave her a wink as he passed her. Ginny looked steadily back at him, face bland and eyes wide. Just because they shared the secret of learning magic in the kitchens right now didn’t mean that she trusted the twins not to prank her.

“I do want to talk to you, dear.”

Mum’s voice was stern. Ginny sighed. She hadn’t even been home yet, and she was already in trouble.

But despite saying that, Mum waited until they had left King’s Cross station through one of the Floos, Ginny waving at Luna on the way. Then Mum bustled around and put a huge mug of hot cocoa and a plate of biscuits in front of Ginny. Ginny bit into one of the strawberry ones, relieved. At least Mum couldn’t be that angry if she was giving Ginny treats.

“I heard that you’ve been in trouble at school for bullying people, Ginny.”

The strawberry biscuit turned to ash in her mouth. Ginny put it down and stared at her mother incredulously. But Mum only looked back at her with a serious face, as if she had said something true and not outrageous.

“I didn’t!”

“Professor Flitwick was very clear that at least one student had to go to the hospital wing for persistent choking issues—”

“So did I! And she deserved it! They bully Luna all the time, Mum! They steal her things and they hex her and they hexed me! And they gossip about us and make fun of us! I was only fighting back.” Ginny did think about saying that it wasn’t her, but she wanted to make sure that Harry didn’t get in trouble.

“You can’t fight back, Ginny.” Mum leaned forwards. “I was content to leave it up to the professors, but I heard that you’ve been causing more and more trouble. I know that we all thought you would end up in Gryffindor and we raised you to follow your principles, but fighting because someone else started it isn’t one of them.”

“So, what?” Ginny demanded. “I’m just supposed to stand back and watch Luna be bullied? Because I know that you also taught me to stand up for people!”

“No. You should go and get a professor.”

“I’ve tried that,” Ginny snapped. “By the time I brought Professor Flitwick back to the Tower, they’d removed the hex or given Luna back her things. They say that she’s just careless and she dropped it.”

Mum sighed. “Be that as it may, Ginny, I don’t want you fighting anymore. And don’t say mean things to the other girls. That’s not the way to do it. Good people don’t hurt others.”

“I’ll hurt them if they hurt Luna.”

“Ginny.”

Ginny pulled herself up, feeling as if she was clutching onto a broom that was rolling slowly over and over in midair. She glared at her mother. Mum just looked back, uncompromising. Ginny finally swallowed and glanced away. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to make a dent in Mum’s sternness.

“Do you promise not to fight?”

Ginny nodded, not saying the words. It was Mum’s fault if she thought Ginny would actually keep that promise and let her best friend in the whole world get hexed and jinxed and stolen from and laughed at.

“Good. Thank you, Ginny.” Mum got up and came around the table to hug her and kiss her on the forehead. “I know it’s hard to sit back and see things that you think are wrong happening. But the best way to deal with it is the right way, and get a professor. Attacking other people just makes you a bully, too, and you don’t want to be that, do you?”

“No,” Ginny said, with perfect truth this time.

She didn’t want to be a bully. Bullies were childish and ineffective. She wanted to be someone who could make them stop.

And she was going to be that person. She was going to keep learning elemental magic from Harry, and she was going to learn all the hexes and jinxes she could. She would study hard. She would show them that she belonged in Ravenclaw for a reason.

And Marietta Edgecombe and the others would stop bullying Luna, or they would end up hurt. That was the way it was.

*

“Welcome home, boys.”

Harry looked up at Lily with her own eyes as she stooped and kissed him on the forehead. She hoped that she managed to hide her own shudder and to smile like a normal mother as she stepped back and rested her hand on his shoulder.

Harry was so strange. She knew he had been abused, but she would have expected more eagerness to confide in them for that very reason, more insistence on claiming his place in the family. Instead, he seemed to act as though he would be abandoned back to the Dursleys any moment, and so had to keep a cool, cautious distance between himself and the rest of them.

“Thank you, Mother.” Harry’s voice was calm and polite, nothing like the loving way that Felix would say it.

“Hey, Harry, look here!”

Harry looked over his shoulder, and his coolness dissolved in a smile. A different one than the ones he had given his parents sometimes. Lily caught her breath.

There was the love she had been missing, the eagerness to belong, the dedication to proving that he was a Potter. Harry might not want her or James around, but he couldn’t hide his love for his brother.

It will be all right, Lily told herself as Harry trotted over to examine the prank Snitch the Weasley twins had given Felix. I know that Albus worried about Harry’s temperament and whether he would ever be able to recover from the abuse or get over his jealousy of Felix, but I think he has. He loves Felix, who never made the decision to abandon him.

That will have to be enough. I can’t ask him for anything else.

*

“Hey, Harry. Do you want to come outside and fly?”

For a moment, as James stepped around the shelves in the library and his son looked up at him, he felt as though he had surprised a wild, feral thing. Harry’s eyes had gone wide, and they seemed to shine with a light James couldn’t otherwise see. He shut the book on his table, a history book of some kind, and blinked at James.

James held his breath for a moment, then shook his head in irritation. He couldn’t be afraid of Harry. It was unseemly. Harry was—what he was. It wasn’t his fault.

It’s our fault.

But blaming themselves wouldn’t do any good, either, so James just smiled at Harry, clasped his hands behind his back, and waited for an answer to his question.

Harry finally nodded, as though he was bobbing a mechanical toy on a string, and said, “Yes, all right, that would be good. Let me go and get my broom? I’ll meet you on the pitch?”

“That’s fine,” James said, more eagerly than he probably should have, but he didn’t want to walk with Harry and chat with him, the way he would have with Felix. He walked out of the library quickly and went to get his own broom, wishing his hand didn’t shake. Wishing that Harry’s eyes didn’t remind him of what was locked up in the drawer.

In the end, Harry’s state was largely their fault. But it was in the past, and there was nothing they could do about it, just as there was nothing they could have done about the prophecy, or the way that James had felt a stone sink into his stomach the moment he’d heard the prophecy naming Harry.

He and Lily had given up their son to the demands of the prophecy and the need to bring down Voldemort before he killed a bunch of good people. More good people.

And then Harry had survived.

James had felt off-balance ever since. It had been easier to ignore when Harry was with the Dursleys, but he knew he would have to find some way to live with it.

Not that it would be easy. But as Albus said, it was always best to do what was right rather than what was easy.

*

James Potter was a good flyer.

Harry watched the way he dodged and laughed as the Bludgers spun around him, and nodded. James was a good flyer. Something to keep in mind, both as a trait that he could praise his father about if Harry ever needed to speak positive words to or about him, and as an obstacle to counter in case Harry ever needed to fight him.

They tossed a Quaffle back and forth. They dodged Bludgers. James told stories of his Hogwarts years with Black and Lupin that went a little way towards explaining why Snape hated Potters so much.

Harry smiled at him, and noticed the way that James flinched. All right, smiles weren’t something he should do. They looked too unnatural on his face, even if Felix and Theo didn’t think so.

It didn’t mean that spending time with his parents wasn’t valuable. He needed to fool them into thinking he partially loved and trusted them, and yes, they could become his enemies someday.

He would do his best not to kill them, because that would probably upset Felix. But it was much more important not to underestimate them.

*

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”

“Happy Christmas, Theo.”

Belisarius studied the boy who had come out of the fireplace. In many ways, Potter was the same as he had been during the week he had spent with them over the summer. His eyes flickered to the side, seeking out Belisarius, and he bowed a little from the waist. “Thank you for inviting me over, Mr. Nott.”

“You are here without the knowledge of your parents, I trust?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was no discomfort on the boy’s face or in his tone. He didn’t seem to think that Belisarius would use this knowledge as blackmail or reach out to his parents. Of course, he was right. But he had been more nervous when he was here during the summer.

Belisarius could not tell for the moment whether this change was a good thing or not, but it was certainly intriguing.

“Good. Come along, then,” Belisarius said, and herded both boys out of the Floo arrival room, listening in amusement as Theo chattered frantically to Potter, as if his words had been caged birds only waiting for their chance to escape.

With other people, he would have been concerned about Theo being too easily influenced by Potter, too vulnerable with him. But he had heard the whole story of how Potter had rescued Theo in May. He had seen the way that Potter angled his body towards Theo, without seeming to notice that he did so, and listened intently, with his whole heart. He was at least as vulnerable as Theo in this relationship.

And he had returned Theo to his father, something Belisarius, with his power and his connections, hadn’t been able to do.

Belisarius Nott didn’t intend to worry about his son’s bond with Potter unless he was forced to do so.

*

Harry peered down at the gift from Belisarius that he had opened. He had already opened a few from Theo, including a magical leather cover for a book that would make it appear to be a harmless-looking school book, and a crystal that Theo said would help him focus his mind in meditation when learning to control his earth magic. But he didn’t know what to make of the knife lying in the leather case.

“Thank you, sir,” he said politely.

“I know that it might seem I’ve given you a useless gift,” Belisarius said. He was lounging in a chair near the fire, somewhat off to the side of where Harry and Theo were sitting in front of the tree. Harry knew exactly where he was at all times, of course, and was keeping a light hold on the air flowing in and out of the man’s lungs. Just in case. “After all, surely your magic would protect you much better.”

“I was thinking that it was hard to see why you had chosen it, unless it was a matter of pureblood honor or the like.”

Theo nudged Harry’s side. “You don’t have to sound so disdainful of that, Harry.”

“I think I do.”

Theo smiled at him, and Harry smiled back, turning his head away from Belisarius. Of course, he concentrated a bit more on the airflow in the older man’s lungs, until he had an excuse to look back and watch him once more.

“The knife is a special tool that can work with your elemental powers,” Belisarius continued. “For example, lift it and let a small flicker of fire wind around the blade.”

Harry considered what possible negative effects of that there could be, and he had to admit it didn’t seem like very many. So he raised the knife and tried what Belisarius said, letting just a curl of fire lick the steel.

The knife glowed as if it was being heated up much more than Harry was trying to do, and then sucked the fire into itself. Harry was so startled that he almost dropped it. Theo laughed aloud.

“What does it do?” Harry asked, glancing at Belisarius.

Belisarius picked up a piece of parchment from beside his chair and handed it to Theo to hand to Harry. He could have floated it over, but Harry supposed the man knew that Harry would be more comfortable taking it from Theo. “Try cutting the parchment with the knife.” A small smile touched his mouth, and he leaned forwards a little in his chair. “Or you can try to use the knife and the fire stored in it at the same time.”

Harry raised his eyebrows skeptically, but he nodded and turned to the parchment, bringing the knife down on it. He thought about the fire that had curled around the blade, how the reflection had shone in the steel—

And the flames came to life before the blade ever touched the parchment, burning it to ash.

Harry stared at it. It wasn’t exactly like the level of control that he had over his elemental powers; when he used them, he could picture exactly how much fire he wanted and where it would go, how hot and bright it would be, what it would do. But this extended his magic. It could store his magic. He could carry the knife and feed it power and be able to use it in an emergency when he was exhausted.

It was like a wand.

He lifted his eyes to Belisarius and tried to show how sincere he was, which was difficult sometimes around adults. “Thank you. Where did you get this?”

Belisarius inclined his head, while a corner of his mouth lifted. He must be able to hear Harry’s silent question about who else Belisarius might have told about Harry’s elemental magic. Then again, Harry hadn’t tried to keep it that quiet. “It is an old artifact of our family. One of my ancestors, Abigail Nott, was an elemental witch. It took me some searching of the archives to find.”

“And you don’t expect a favor for it?”

“Harry!” Theo sound scandalized enough that Harry twitched. This must be one of those rules where it was impolite to question someone about a gift.

But Belisarius only seemed more amused, shaking his head. “What favor would I ask for that is greater than your saving my son’s life? Then rescuing him from his abusers?” His voice was low and charged, and he was staring at Theo. “Everything you might have done for us, you have done, and without thought of reward.”

“Theo is my friend.”

Harry hated the sound of his own voice, how quiet and uncertain it was. But then, Belisarius had trusted him enough to sound vulnerable. He probably wasn’t going to use the gift of the knife to get Harry in his debt.

“I know it, and I am thankful for it.” Belisarius leaned forwards in his chair a little. “Because I think you might understand this a little better, here is another explanation. By making you stronger, I make you better able to protect Theo, and thus work to spare Theo’s life and give him a stronger friend.”

Harry relaxed. Yes, that did make sense, and didn’t make it sound like Belisarius was trying to take advantage of him. “Thank you,” he repeated, more sincerely, and touched the knife. “This is as close to a wand as I’ll probably ever come.”

“And you don’t need to keep up the pretense.”

Harry blinked at Theo. “What are you talking about?”

“You could start using your elemental magic in front of people.” Theo leaned insistently forwards. “They might understand the knife better than just seeing you conjure the elements out of the air. It would give them a way to understand. Make you seem less foreign because you have a conduit for your magic.”

Harry understood what Theo was saying, but part of him shrank from that. “I would have to admit that I lied about being able to use a wand.”

Theo hissed a little. “You’re going to have to do that anyway, Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t sound so gormless.” Theo’s hands tightened into fists down by his legs. “You won’t be able to feign every high-level Charm or Transfiguration or Defensive spell with elemental magic. You’ll have to show them sooner or later, Harry. Wouldn’t it be better to do it in a situation of your own choosing, under your own control, instead of having them find out accidentally and be upset that you lied?”

Or afraid. Harry could practically see the words hovering in Theo’s eyes, as if he were a Legilimens. You know that they would be afraid you managed to lie and fool them so well, managed to keep your real magic concealed for so long.

“I don’t know what would happen,” Harry said. He did not want to have this conversation in front of Belisarius, but it seemed they were having it.

“What do you mean?”

“They could be afraid of me and try to control me because they found out about my elemental magic accidentally. Or they could feel that way because I told them. I’ve read some of the books about elemental wizards and witches in history now, Theo. They were feared and hated, a lot.”

“Take control of it! That’s the only way to stop them!”

“I don’t know how!”

Harry’s neck prickled in the silence that followed. He really hated having this conversation in front of Belisarius. But it was too late to take the words back.

Even if Theo probably knew the real reason that Harry didn’t want to reveal his elemental magic already.

“If I may offer a suggestion,” Belisarius said. “As someone who truly did not intend that knife to be a gift that would reveal your elemental magic for others to know about, but who agrees with my son?”

Harry shifted in place, tightened an invisible skin of air around him that he could fling in any direction at any second, and glanced at Belisarius. “Yes, sir?”

From the look in Belisarius’s eyes, he knew well enough that Harry wasn’t speaking the title out of respect. But he said, “You could begin showing your professors and others who don’t know about it already small feats of elemental magic. That would work, wouldn’t it? It would look as if you were gaining control over your wandless magic little by little, and growing stronger and more precise with it. Eventually, you could pretend that the wanded spells you had managed were waning and your wandless magic was growing stronger, but less dangerous. Because it was under your control.”

“The books said that the reasons wizards and witches hated and feared elementalists didn’t have anything to do with believing they were under control, sir. It had to do with the ability to stop other people from breathing or freeze their blood or the like.”

Belisarius had an unpleasant smile when he wanted to use it. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Potter, that elementalists who suffered such fates in the past were not as powerful as you, even if they were older. And they did not have the Nott family protecting them.”

Harry watched Belisarius for a moment. He could feel Theo vibrating with tension beside him. But Theo didn’t act as though he thought his father was wrong.

And…

Part of Harry did want to tell people. He didn’t want to keep watching his back, and he didn’t want to hide the secret from some of the people he would never trust enough to teach, and he wanted his parents and Dumbledore stare at him in shock.

He just hadn’t trusted his own motivations to think those were good reasons to reveal the magic. But if both Belisarius and Theo were confirming what his instincts had told him…

“I could be open to working on a plan for that with you, sir,” he said.

Belisarius leaned back and lifted his mug of mulled cider in a toast. “Excellent news, Mr. Potter.”

Theo reached out and laid a hand on Harry’s arm. Harry glanced at him and found Theo almost shining with excitement, his magic touching Harry’s in a brief, slithering brush.

Harry breathed out. He didn’t dare to hope things would work out as well as Theo and Belisarius seemed to think they would, but—

He would try.