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lomonaaerenTitle: Creatures of Strength
Pairings: Mentions of James/Lily, otherwise gen
Content Notes: AU (Harry is a Ravenclaw), angst, violence, past character deaths, selfish Harry, amoral Harry, prejudice and bigotry, dysfunction
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sequel to “Creatures of Worth” and “Creatures of Pride.” Harry reacts to the news that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban by increasing his study of violent magic, so that he can punish his traitorous godfather when he finds him. His life is also disrupted by the return of Remus Lupin, who knew his parents, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But Harry doesn’t intend to let either of these men stop him from protecting himself, or endanger his living situation with Madam Marchbanks.
Author’s Notes: This is the third part of my “These Creatures” series and will make no sense without the others in the series. It’s also part of my “From Litha to Lammas” series of chaptered fics being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August. It should have four to five chapters. This story is darker than the others and contains upsetting topics; please read with caution.
Creatures of Strength
“Harry, there is something you should know.”
Harry turned his head with a frown. He had been on his way to his Potions lesson with Professor Abigail Plumeria, and most of the time, Madam Marchbanks wouldn’t interrupt his studies. She had the charms that allowed her to hear curled around her earlobes, too, which was unusual enough to make him reach for his wand.
“What do you mean?”
“You remember when we talked about Sirius Black?”
Harry nodded. She had told him the story last summer. He had wanted to understand more about why his parents had died and who the Death Eaters had been. It hadn’t taken a long time to tell.
Madam Marchbanks ground her cane into the floor. “He’s escaped Azkaban.”
*
“I want to learn the Killing Curse.”
Erik Anderssen, Harry’s Defense instructor, paused and looked down his nose at Harry. He didn’t speak against it, the way most British people would have, but seemed to give it thought. Harry watched him, wand clutched in one trembling hand.
“An unusual desire,” Erik said at last, his voice calm.
“I don’t care how unusual it is, I want to learn it.”
“What if the Killing Curse is not the most effective piece of magic for the situation you are facing?”
Harry made an attempt to settle back on his heels and listen to what his professor was saying. It wasn’t easy. The fear that had jangled under his heart ever since Madam Marchbanks told him about Sirius Black was still there, crying in his ears like bells. He closed his eyes and thought of how calmly he had researched the humiliation he had served out on Professor Snape. “All right. Why wouldn’t it be? It can’t be blocked. That makes it the most effective.’
“It is illegal in Britain. I know that you wish to defend yourself from Black, but what use would it be defending yourself if you found yourself in Azkaban soon after? Or with your wand snapped and your expulsion from Hogwarts, which is more likely for someone who is thirteen?”
Harry paused. Erik was making sense. Harry had been so frightened that he’d been ignoring the context, which wasn’t like him. Usually, Harry manipulated context well, the way he had when he’d feigned a magical disease to get himself removed from the Dursleys.
“Is there a spell that isn’t illegal and would serve just as well?”
“Not if you care about killing Black. Do you care about killing him?”
Harry wrestled in silence with that idea. Then he said, “No. I care about stopping him.”
“Attend.”
Erik spun on one heel and flung a silent spell at the large stone shield on the wall of the practice room that was serving as their target for this morning. A silver glow flared into being on the edge of the shield, and then that edge disintegrated, creating a small pile of dust on the floor.
Erik turned to him with a pleased smile, inclining his head. “You see? The equivalent of this spell, the Disintegrating Hex, would remove someone’s hand, or perhaps their wand. It would be hard for the most dedicated murderer to concentrate on killing you after that.”
Harry blinked. Then he smiled. He had the impression that it was the kind of smile his friends would have flinched from—except Theo and maybe Michael—but Erik only watched him and waited.
“Yes,” Harry said, and looked again at the shield. “Yes, I’d like to learn that.”
*
“Can we brew poisons?”
Professor Plumeria’s mouth was open, probably to continue her explanation of why moonstone dust was the wrong ingredient in the Shrinking Solution Harry had been brewing, but she closed her mouth slowly when Harry spoke. She examined him in even more depth than Erik had yesterday, eyes lingering on his face.
Then she said, “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this desire is prompted by your desire to stay safe from Sirius Black, and your urgency would ruin the potion. Not to mention that most poisons are beyond your current brewing ability.”
Harry braced his hands on the stone table in front of him, where his pewter cauldron currently stood. The potions lab was full of sunlight at the moment, since they weren’t working with sensitive ingredients that it could affect. “I have to be calm when brewing?”
“You do. You are not an expert.”
Harry scowled at her.
“You do not react this badly most of the time to statements of fact. Tell me why you think that Sirius Black would manage to find his way through the wards here and the ones at Hogwarts to attack you.”
Harry watched her for a moment, but Professor Plumeria only looked at him, and didn’t seem to realize how asinine her question was. So Harry had to spell it out. “He found his way out of Azkaban, past Dementors that even the wards of Hogwarts would keep out. Why shouldn’t he be able to find his way through our wards, or the ones on the school?”
Professor Plumeria again examined him, and Harry let her. Then she shook her head. “Sit down, and let me explain something to you, Harry.”
Harry did, with the polite, obedient expression on his face that fooled most of his teachers at Hogwarts into thinking he was polite and obedient. Professor Plumeria gave him an unimpressed look and leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed.
“You are not unknowledgeable about wards, but it seems to me that you lack knowledge about Azkaban. The Dementors are its guards, and its major protections. There are not wards on the prison as you understand it, other than the ones that prevent Apparition, Portkeys, and most other means of approaching the island.”
“What? Why?”
“The Dementors cause such intense despair that most of the prisoners are incapable of planning an escape. As evidence, look at how no one has ever managed it before Black did.”
“But that’s stupid.”
“Tell me why you believe you can outthink the best minds in the British Ministry.”
Harry paused. There was something about the wording of what she’d said…
“I can’t outthink them,” he said, watching Professor Plumeria closely. “I would set up the wards not because I think that they would be needed most of the time, but because taking chances they won’t is stupid.”
Yes, there it was, a flicker of a satisfied smile along the underside of Professor Plumeria’s lips. She inclined her head. “The Ministries of several countries agree with you, including France, Spain, and Bulgaria. It should be noted, of course, that those Ministries do not use Dementors at all.”
“Why not?”
“They are hard to control. They require a food that is not always available in great quantities, depending on the Ministry’s policies and the laws that condemn most people to prison as opposed to a lesser punishment. Many people suspect that their creator buried some nasty surprise in them that may erupt someday. And there is the ethical objection, of course.”
“You mentioned that last.”
“Because I am teaching a young man whom I suspect would not care about it.”
Harry met her eyes. Professor Plumeria just looked back. Harry wondered how open she really wanted him to be with her. Madam Marchbanks knew about this side of him, and he thought that some of his other tutors suspected it. That wasn’t the same thing as accepting it without reservations, though.
“Why do you think that?”
“Your question about poisons. Other questions that you have asked. Even your opinion about the wards. You are focused first of all on protecting yourself, and second on making sure that you can influence others to protect you. Only after that, if at all, does the question of ethics come into play.”
Harry raised his eyebrows and dropped a little more of the expression he usually wore around his teachers. “Would you be upset if I didn’t care at all?”
“No. But I would caution you about one thing.”
Harry nodded. He wouldn’t disdain free advice from someone who had shown they knew as much as Professor Plumeria did.
“Be careful whom you tell about this. They could accept you as shocked, afraid, or even indifferent to the presence of Dementors more than they could accept you simply not caring about the ethical implications.”
“I wasn’t under the impression that you had spent that much time in Britain, Professor Plumeria.”
She made a careless gesture. “I’ve spent enough. And I know that many of the people in Britain do not spend much time thinking about the Dementors themselves, unless to give thanks that the Death Eaters and other criminals in Azkaban are subjected to their presence. But they want to believe you a hero.”
Harry smiled grimly. Well, he knew that, and it was a perception that he had already used against the British public. They had clamored for him to be removed from the Dursleys when they knew about them, after all.
“I think I understand what you mean, Professor.”
“Do you?”
Harry nodded, holding her eyes.
He wasn’t sure if she was a Legilimens, but after a moment, Professor Plumeria seemed to accept his answer, or lack of one. She turned back to the cauldron. “Come. You can do better at memorizing the properties of ingredients than you have so far.”
“If I memorize them well enough, will you let me brew a poison?”
“We shall have to see.”
That was good enough for Harry, who began recounting the properties of moonstone dust while Professor Plumeria listened critically.
*
“Thank you for answering my summons, Mr. Potter.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Nott,” Harry said, and bowed a little to Kalder Nott. Theo’s father was as unnerving as he had been last summer—more, this time, because Harry had been reading up on some Death Eater history he’d ignored so far since Sirius Black’s escape. His History tutor, Professor Greengrass, had suggested that. “I must admit that I’m curious about what you want to say to me.”
Kalder smiled without much moving his lips. He was less like Theo than Harry had thought last summer, his face so smooth and still that Harry thought Snape might have been impressed. “This information, I will tell you in strictest confidence. I do not wish to see it repeated on the front page of the Daily Prophet.”
Harry just bowed again. Kalder was underestimating him if he thought Harry would leak it there. That could only be a good thing. “I understand, sir.”
Kalder continued to study him with cold grey eyes for a few minutes. It was a long period of silence, but Harry endured. They were standing in the middle of the Nott library, which he would have liked to explore, but with no fire lit and a gloomy afternoon throwing shadows into every corner through the window, it wasn’t a welcoming place.
“Do you understand that my memories might be blurred because of the Imperius Curse?”
Harry shifted as something opened in him like a sleeping dog’s eye. Kalder was going to discuss memories from his Death Eater days. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Kalder tucked his hands together behind his back. “You will have heard both that Sirius Black was the betrayer of your parents and that he was the Dark Lord’s second-in-command.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He was extraordinarily good at keeping hidden. I attended many Death Eater meetings—since my mental control is good enough that the Dark Lord had to keep me close at hand to retain control of me—and I never remember Sirius Black being there.”
Harry ruthlessly controlled his expression. He had to remember that Kalder could turn on him if there was any sign that Harry wasn’t taking this seriously. “I see. That is surprising.”
“Very.” Kalder stared straight at Harry. “Of course, it’s also possible that he only reported to the Dark Lord in private, or that my memories are so blurred by what happened to me that I missed an incidence of him attending.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There is one more thing concerning Sirius Black I have remembered. Simply because it was unusual at the time. For no other reason.”
“Please go on, sir.”
“When the Dark Lord referred to the traitor that he had placed in the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s fighting force, close to the Potters, he never referred to him by name. He had a habit of using wordplay, so that was not unusual. But I would have expected him to use a pun on Black, or perhaps on the stars. Sirius Black’s family has a habit of naming their children after stars and constellations.”
“Did he not do that, sir?”
“No. He referred to the traitor, always, as his rat.”
Harry had no idea what that meant, but he absorbed the words and knew he would remember them. “Thank you, sir. I know it must be difficult for you to relive that period in your life. I’m grateful that you chose to go through it for me.”
Kalder gave him a smile with all sorts of edges hidden underneath the gentleness, and turned away. He’d barely shut the library door when it slammed open again. Theo ran in as if wings were attached to his feet.
“Harry!”
“Hi, Theo.”
Theo hesitated, glancing around as if he thought his father was lurking in the library’s shadows. “I only heard that you were here from a house-elf a minute ago. Why did you come to meet with my father?”
Harry couldn’t be sure that those same house-elves, or some kind of eavesdropping charms, weren’t spying on them right now. He looked straight at Theo, smiling slightly. “He summoned me. He shared some painful memories that related to my godfather’s escape from prison.”
Theo half-bowed his head. “I didn’t know Sirius Black was your godfather.”
“Yes, he was. Is.” Harry shrugged. “I suppose the tense of the verb doesn’t matter much.”
Theo nodded. His eyes flicked once at Harry’s face, once towards the door.
Message received and understood.
Harry was glad that if he was going to hear about Death Eater meetings from someone who had been there, they had Theo as a son. Theo understood him a lot better than some of his other friends would have. “Come on. Do you want to go practice some of the spells that Erik is showing me lately?”
*
“His rat.”
“Yes, Griselda.” It still felt a bit unnatural to call Madam Marchbanks that, but Harry was making an effort on a regular basis.
Madam Marchbanks frowned and sat back in her chair. Harry was sitting across from her in the parlor, the room where they did most of their talking and Harry did his homework when he had it, or opened Christmas gifts. At the moment, the fire was out, and the sunlight sparkled on Madam Marchbanks’s opalescent hearing charms.
She made a snorting sound. “I don’t know what that means, and I hate not knowing.”
Harry nodded. He hated the same thing. But he had to admit, this had made him more curious about Black himself, and not just about how to protect himself from the bastard.
“I don’t suppose you have any contacts in the Order of the Phoenix that you could ask about what he was like?”
“Don’t need to do that, lad.”
“Why’s that?”
“I trained him myself for part of the war.”
Harry sat up, his hands digging into the chair arms. His whole body felt as though someone had struck him a blow to the head. “You didn’t say that,” he whispered. “I trusted you to tell me the truth, and you didn’t say that.”
Madam Marchbanks looked back at him, unimpressed. “You told me you didn’t want to hear it.”
“What? When?”
“The day he escaped. We discussed the basics, and then you said you didn’t want to hear any more.”
“I didn’t mean—if it was relevant information, of course I wanted to hear it! I just didn’t want to hear speculations on his escape or anything like that.”
“I obeyed what you said, Harry. You told me that you never wanted to discuss it again, and I went along with that.”
Harry stared at Madam Marchbanks. She stared back, her cane clutched in her hand and her ears shimmering with charms. He said, slowly, “You were testing me. You were waiting for me to ask for what I wanted, while still obeying the letter of my request.”
Madam Marchbanks didn’t cackle, the way Harry thought she might have at proving him wrong. She only looked at him, so calm that it was eerie, and stated, “You’re growing up. When you were younger, it was only right that I indulge you. You hadn’t been indulged much by those Muggles of yours. But there are certain things you need to learn, and how to think through the implications you don’t intend is one of them.”
Harry took a complicated breath. He wanted to feel betrayed, but he didn’t, not exactly. So he said, “You’re going to be testing me now? Not doing exactly what I want?”
Madam Marchbanks bobbed her head. “In situations like this where the consequences can’t unfold on your arse, yes.” Harry blinked a little. “I’ll still be pleased to come to school to yell at any of your professors or Headmasters who don’t do their duty. But when you need a little more freedom to think and fail, count on me.”
Harry looped his arms around his knees. His friends had sometimes talked about their parents doing things like this, like when Michael’s mother had let him cast a Freezing Charm that she knew wouldn’t work that well and let him plunge into cold water instead of skating on the ice. She’d been right there to save him, of course. But she’d let him do it.
Harry had scoffed at the thought. That wasn’t being the good parent so many people thought. That was betrayal. He’d thought a little less of Michael for not seeing it that way.
Now that he was the one there…
It didn’t really feel like that.
He looked up at Madam Marchbanks. She was puffing on her pipe now, sucking at the stem with loud disgusting sounds—well, Harry would have thought them disgusting if it was anyone but her. She watched him.
Harry sat up. “I’m ready to hear about Sirius Black now.”
He wouldn’t apologize for anything. It wans’t his way. But luckily, Madam Marchbanks wasn’t the kind of guardian who would make him apologize to prove a point, either.
She smiled at him. “Good lad. Here’s what I know.”
*
“Are you all right, Harry?”
Harry wanted to snap back, but this was Parvati, and she knew the most cutting insults among his friends. She would needle him if he did, and it wasn’t her fault that he was thinking what he was.
“Just thinking about Sirius Black.” Harry stretched out on Parvati’s bed. Mrs. Patil had seemed a little anxious about Harry and Parvati being by themselves in the same room, but Harry had smiled at her and explained that he was too young to be even thinking of having a girlfriend, and she’d allowed it. “Madam Marchbanks told me a few things about him.”
“What?” Parvati asked, leaning forwards.
“That he was from a family that practiced Dark Arts, one of the Darkest, but he’d tried to turn his back on them. She trained him in the kind of spells that would allow him to cause damage without crossing the kinds of lines that his family did.”
Privately, Harry thought a little less of Black for that. But he could also understand the impulse. Harry had defined himself against the little hero that a lot of people wanted him to be, and against the “normal” life that the Dursleys had wanted. Perhaps it wasn’t incomprehensible that Black had defined himself against his family.
“She trained him?”
“Yeah. He came to her because she didn’t want to join the Order of the Phoenix—”
“The what?”
Harry explained what Madam Marchbanks had told him about the Order, and then continued, “But she was still a great duelist. So Black asked if she would consent to aid the war effort by teaching him, and she did. She was shocked that he turned on his friends. Apparently, he considered James Potter a brother.”
“More than that.”
Harry blinked at Parvati. Yes, she had information on all sorts of people, but he wouldn’t have expected her to have anything on this person. Or at least know more than the adults did. “What do you mean?”
Parvati tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him the small, mean smile that Harry hadn’t seen her use even around Zacharias or Michael or Theo. It was good that she trusted him so much. It meant that Harry would probably have the advantage if he ever had to deal with her permanently.
“Yes. James Potter’s aunt by marriage was Dorea Black, one of your Black’s cousins. When Sirius Black ran away from his family, he put up the pretense of moving in with her and her Potter husband, even though he really moved in with James and his parents. It was a sort of face-saving move that allowed Walburga and Orion Black to pretend they had consented.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ll have you know that my sources are impeccable—”
“I didn’t mean that. I only mean that it seems strange Black considered my father family and was family to him by marriage, and still betrayed him.”
“Maybe he wanted power.”
“He would have had the chance for that if he’d stayed with his family. Both money and Dark Arts, Madam Marchbanks said.”
“There are other definitions of power. Maybe You-Know-who offered him one of those.”
Harry shrugged, unconvinced, but also not really caring. If Sirius Black came after him, then Harry would use the only kind of power that mattered, magical, to stop him. And if he tried something more indirect, then Harry knew Madam Marchbanks and Harry’s own fame could take care of him.
Parvati let it go, too, and told him several things she’d learned about Padma and the Ravenclaw girls she was friends with by listening outside her sister’s door. Harry listened with a smile, glad that Parvati was his.
*
“Absolutely not.”
It was all Madam Marchbanks had needed to say when they’d heard that Dementors were supposed to ride the Hogwarts Express to search for Sirius Black along the way. Harry had nodded when he’d heard it. The only sure defense against Dementors was the Patronus Charm, which he didn’t know. He thought he could probably learn it, even if it was supposed to be terribly difficult, but he had other things he’d rather concentrate on instead.
“I am Apparating you to this bloody school,” Madam Marchbanks said darkly, digging into the stones of the platform with her cane as they walked back to the entrance to King’s Cross. “Dementors! Has the Minister’s brain swollen to the point that it’s broken his bloody skull open? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Is there a hex that can do that?”
“Yes, but it’s incredibly traceable. Don’t let me hear that you’ve got caught hexing the Minister, Harry.”
Harry grinned. “If I promise to cast it with someone else’s wand, can I learn it?”
“That’s a good student,” Madam Marchbanks said, and beamed down at him with a fond smile, before she grasped his arm and Apparated him.
*
“It was horrible.”
Harry nodded as he stood with Theo outside the Great Hall. Theo hadn’t been with the others when they came off the train, and Harry had immediately left to find out why. It had seemed like common sense that Theo would be in the hospital wing, and he had been. Luckily, he’d already finished his meal of chocolate courtesy of Madam Pomfrey.
“And where were you?”
“We heard the Dementors would be searching the train, and Madam Marchbanks Apparated me ahead.”
Theo stiffened beside him. Harry stopped in the middle of walking into the Great Hall and turned around, wondering if Theo was still suffering the effects of the Dementors.
“She did that, and you didn’t think to warn us?”
“I thought you knew,” Harry said. It was only the truth. The news had probably been kept from some Muggleborns and their parents, but if Madam Marchbanks had learned it, then Theo’s father certainly should have been able to.
Theo clenched his fists hard enough that Harry heard his knuckles creak. “In the future, I’d appreciate if you would share advance notice of any danger you have, Harry. Even if you think that it’s ridiculous. Or I already know.”
Harry held Theo’s eyes until he looked down. Then Harry nodded. “I’ll take it into consideration.” He really had no reason not to do it, given that Theo was his friend, but it was best for Theo to know that he couldn’t command Harry, not at all, not in any way.
Theo mumbled something, and strode into the Great Hall, heading for the Slytherin table. Harry walked to the Ravenclaw one, smiling at Michael and nodding at a few of the others. It would be good to be on pleasant terms with a few more of them. If they took liberties because of that, Harry would teach them better.
“Where were you?”
Harry explained quietly and concisely. At least Michael had better sense than to blame Harry for not having shared the information, although that was probably because he hadn’t had as bad a reaction as Theo.
“If I could have your attention, please.”
Harry looked up. He’d missed the Sorting with going to inquire after Theo, but it wasn’t like he cared about that. He half-wished he’d managed to miss Dumbledore’s speech, as the man stood and spread his hands. Dumbledore’s smile dimmed a little at the sight of Harry.
Harry looked at him politely.
“It gives me great pleasure to introduce two new professors to our ranks. As Professor Kettleburn has retired for understandable reasons, I wish to introduce Rubeus Hagrid as your new Care of Magical Creatures instructor.”
Some people were clapping, others laughing or sneering. Harry clapped himself. He held no ill will against Hagrid, although he also wasn’t taking Care and wouldn’t be affected by this one way or the other.
“Our other new professor is Remus Lupin, taking over for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared at the worn-looking man who stood up to acknowledge a smattering of applause. Remus Lupin. The man who had sent him that book on Dark creatures for Christmas last year, and said in the signature that he was a friend of Harry’s parents.
The man who was avoiding Harry’s eyes right now.
It didn’t matter. Harry thought he knew who he could go to to resolve the puzzle of Sirius Black.
Pairings: Mentions of James/Lily, otherwise gen
Content Notes: AU (Harry is a Ravenclaw), angst, violence, past character deaths, selfish Harry, amoral Harry, prejudice and bigotry, dysfunction
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sequel to “Creatures of Worth” and “Creatures of Pride.” Harry reacts to the news that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban by increasing his study of violent magic, so that he can punish his traitorous godfather when he finds him. His life is also disrupted by the return of Remus Lupin, who knew his parents, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But Harry doesn’t intend to let either of these men stop him from protecting himself, or endanger his living situation with Madam Marchbanks.
Author’s Notes: This is the third part of my “These Creatures” series and will make no sense without the others in the series. It’s also part of my “From Litha to Lammas” series of chaptered fics being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August. It should have four to five chapters. This story is darker than the others and contains upsetting topics; please read with caution.
Creatures of Strength
“Harry, there is something you should know.”
Harry turned his head with a frown. He had been on his way to his Potions lesson with Professor Abigail Plumeria, and most of the time, Madam Marchbanks wouldn’t interrupt his studies. She had the charms that allowed her to hear curled around her earlobes, too, which was unusual enough to make him reach for his wand.
“What do you mean?”
“You remember when we talked about Sirius Black?”
Harry nodded. She had told him the story last summer. He had wanted to understand more about why his parents had died and who the Death Eaters had been. It hadn’t taken a long time to tell.
Madam Marchbanks ground her cane into the floor. “He’s escaped Azkaban.”
*
“I want to learn the Killing Curse.”
Erik Anderssen, Harry’s Defense instructor, paused and looked down his nose at Harry. He didn’t speak against it, the way most British people would have, but seemed to give it thought. Harry watched him, wand clutched in one trembling hand.
“An unusual desire,” Erik said at last, his voice calm.
“I don’t care how unusual it is, I want to learn it.”
“What if the Killing Curse is not the most effective piece of magic for the situation you are facing?”
Harry made an attempt to settle back on his heels and listen to what his professor was saying. It wasn’t easy. The fear that had jangled under his heart ever since Madam Marchbanks told him about Sirius Black was still there, crying in his ears like bells. He closed his eyes and thought of how calmly he had researched the humiliation he had served out on Professor Snape. “All right. Why wouldn’t it be? It can’t be blocked. That makes it the most effective.’
“It is illegal in Britain. I know that you wish to defend yourself from Black, but what use would it be defending yourself if you found yourself in Azkaban soon after? Or with your wand snapped and your expulsion from Hogwarts, which is more likely for someone who is thirteen?”
Harry paused. Erik was making sense. Harry had been so frightened that he’d been ignoring the context, which wasn’t like him. Usually, Harry manipulated context well, the way he had when he’d feigned a magical disease to get himself removed from the Dursleys.
“Is there a spell that isn’t illegal and would serve just as well?”
“Not if you care about killing Black. Do you care about killing him?”
Harry wrestled in silence with that idea. Then he said, “No. I care about stopping him.”
“Attend.”
Erik spun on one heel and flung a silent spell at the large stone shield on the wall of the practice room that was serving as their target for this morning. A silver glow flared into being on the edge of the shield, and then that edge disintegrated, creating a small pile of dust on the floor.
Erik turned to him with a pleased smile, inclining his head. “You see? The equivalent of this spell, the Disintegrating Hex, would remove someone’s hand, or perhaps their wand. It would be hard for the most dedicated murderer to concentrate on killing you after that.”
Harry blinked. Then he smiled. He had the impression that it was the kind of smile his friends would have flinched from—except Theo and maybe Michael—but Erik only watched him and waited.
“Yes,” Harry said, and looked again at the shield. “Yes, I’d like to learn that.”
*
“Can we brew poisons?”
Professor Plumeria’s mouth was open, probably to continue her explanation of why moonstone dust was the wrong ingredient in the Shrinking Solution Harry had been brewing, but she closed her mouth slowly when Harry spoke. She examined him in even more depth than Erik had yesterday, eyes lingering on his face.
Then she said, “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this desire is prompted by your desire to stay safe from Sirius Black, and your urgency would ruin the potion. Not to mention that most poisons are beyond your current brewing ability.”
Harry braced his hands on the stone table in front of him, where his pewter cauldron currently stood. The potions lab was full of sunlight at the moment, since they weren’t working with sensitive ingredients that it could affect. “I have to be calm when brewing?”
“You do. You are not an expert.”
Harry scowled at her.
“You do not react this badly most of the time to statements of fact. Tell me why you think that Sirius Black would manage to find his way through the wards here and the ones at Hogwarts to attack you.”
Harry watched her for a moment, but Professor Plumeria only looked at him, and didn’t seem to realize how asinine her question was. So Harry had to spell it out. “He found his way out of Azkaban, past Dementors that even the wards of Hogwarts would keep out. Why shouldn’t he be able to find his way through our wards, or the ones on the school?”
Professor Plumeria again examined him, and Harry let her. Then she shook her head. “Sit down, and let me explain something to you, Harry.”
Harry did, with the polite, obedient expression on his face that fooled most of his teachers at Hogwarts into thinking he was polite and obedient. Professor Plumeria gave him an unimpressed look and leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed.
“You are not unknowledgeable about wards, but it seems to me that you lack knowledge about Azkaban. The Dementors are its guards, and its major protections. There are not wards on the prison as you understand it, other than the ones that prevent Apparition, Portkeys, and most other means of approaching the island.”
“What? Why?”
“The Dementors cause such intense despair that most of the prisoners are incapable of planning an escape. As evidence, look at how no one has ever managed it before Black did.”
“But that’s stupid.”
“Tell me why you believe you can outthink the best minds in the British Ministry.”
Harry paused. There was something about the wording of what she’d said…
“I can’t outthink them,” he said, watching Professor Plumeria closely. “I would set up the wards not because I think that they would be needed most of the time, but because taking chances they won’t is stupid.”
Yes, there it was, a flicker of a satisfied smile along the underside of Professor Plumeria’s lips. She inclined her head. “The Ministries of several countries agree with you, including France, Spain, and Bulgaria. It should be noted, of course, that those Ministries do not use Dementors at all.”
“Why not?”
“They are hard to control. They require a food that is not always available in great quantities, depending on the Ministry’s policies and the laws that condemn most people to prison as opposed to a lesser punishment. Many people suspect that their creator buried some nasty surprise in them that may erupt someday. And there is the ethical objection, of course.”
“You mentioned that last.”
“Because I am teaching a young man whom I suspect would not care about it.”
Harry met her eyes. Professor Plumeria just looked back. Harry wondered how open she really wanted him to be with her. Madam Marchbanks knew about this side of him, and he thought that some of his other tutors suspected it. That wasn’t the same thing as accepting it without reservations, though.
“Why do you think that?”
“Your question about poisons. Other questions that you have asked. Even your opinion about the wards. You are focused first of all on protecting yourself, and second on making sure that you can influence others to protect you. Only after that, if at all, does the question of ethics come into play.”
Harry raised his eyebrows and dropped a little more of the expression he usually wore around his teachers. “Would you be upset if I didn’t care at all?”
“No. But I would caution you about one thing.”
Harry nodded. He wouldn’t disdain free advice from someone who had shown they knew as much as Professor Plumeria did.
“Be careful whom you tell about this. They could accept you as shocked, afraid, or even indifferent to the presence of Dementors more than they could accept you simply not caring about the ethical implications.”
“I wasn’t under the impression that you had spent that much time in Britain, Professor Plumeria.”
She made a careless gesture. “I’ve spent enough. And I know that many of the people in Britain do not spend much time thinking about the Dementors themselves, unless to give thanks that the Death Eaters and other criminals in Azkaban are subjected to their presence. But they want to believe you a hero.”
Harry smiled grimly. Well, he knew that, and it was a perception that he had already used against the British public. They had clamored for him to be removed from the Dursleys when they knew about them, after all.
“I think I understand what you mean, Professor.”
“Do you?”
Harry nodded, holding her eyes.
He wasn’t sure if she was a Legilimens, but after a moment, Professor Plumeria seemed to accept his answer, or lack of one. She turned back to the cauldron. “Come. You can do better at memorizing the properties of ingredients than you have so far.”
“If I memorize them well enough, will you let me brew a poison?”
“We shall have to see.”
That was good enough for Harry, who began recounting the properties of moonstone dust while Professor Plumeria listened critically.
*
“Thank you for answering my summons, Mr. Potter.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Nott,” Harry said, and bowed a little to Kalder Nott. Theo’s father was as unnerving as he had been last summer—more, this time, because Harry had been reading up on some Death Eater history he’d ignored so far since Sirius Black’s escape. His History tutor, Professor Greengrass, had suggested that. “I must admit that I’m curious about what you want to say to me.”
Kalder smiled without much moving his lips. He was less like Theo than Harry had thought last summer, his face so smooth and still that Harry thought Snape might have been impressed. “This information, I will tell you in strictest confidence. I do not wish to see it repeated on the front page of the Daily Prophet.”
Harry just bowed again. Kalder was underestimating him if he thought Harry would leak it there. That could only be a good thing. “I understand, sir.”
Kalder continued to study him with cold grey eyes for a few minutes. It was a long period of silence, but Harry endured. They were standing in the middle of the Nott library, which he would have liked to explore, but with no fire lit and a gloomy afternoon throwing shadows into every corner through the window, it wasn’t a welcoming place.
“Do you understand that my memories might be blurred because of the Imperius Curse?”
Harry shifted as something opened in him like a sleeping dog’s eye. Kalder was going to discuss memories from his Death Eater days. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Kalder tucked his hands together behind his back. “You will have heard both that Sirius Black was the betrayer of your parents and that he was the Dark Lord’s second-in-command.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He was extraordinarily good at keeping hidden. I attended many Death Eater meetings—since my mental control is good enough that the Dark Lord had to keep me close at hand to retain control of me—and I never remember Sirius Black being there.”
Harry ruthlessly controlled his expression. He had to remember that Kalder could turn on him if there was any sign that Harry wasn’t taking this seriously. “I see. That is surprising.”
“Very.” Kalder stared straight at Harry. “Of course, it’s also possible that he only reported to the Dark Lord in private, or that my memories are so blurred by what happened to me that I missed an incidence of him attending.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There is one more thing concerning Sirius Black I have remembered. Simply because it was unusual at the time. For no other reason.”
“Please go on, sir.”
“When the Dark Lord referred to the traitor that he had placed in the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s fighting force, close to the Potters, he never referred to him by name. He had a habit of using wordplay, so that was not unusual. But I would have expected him to use a pun on Black, or perhaps on the stars. Sirius Black’s family has a habit of naming their children after stars and constellations.”
“Did he not do that, sir?”
“No. He referred to the traitor, always, as his rat.”
Harry had no idea what that meant, but he absorbed the words and knew he would remember them. “Thank you, sir. I know it must be difficult for you to relive that period in your life. I’m grateful that you chose to go through it for me.”
Kalder gave him a smile with all sorts of edges hidden underneath the gentleness, and turned away. He’d barely shut the library door when it slammed open again. Theo ran in as if wings were attached to his feet.
“Harry!”
“Hi, Theo.”
Theo hesitated, glancing around as if he thought his father was lurking in the library’s shadows. “I only heard that you were here from a house-elf a minute ago. Why did you come to meet with my father?”
Harry couldn’t be sure that those same house-elves, or some kind of eavesdropping charms, weren’t spying on them right now. He looked straight at Theo, smiling slightly. “He summoned me. He shared some painful memories that related to my godfather’s escape from prison.”
Theo half-bowed his head. “I didn’t know Sirius Black was your godfather.”
“Yes, he was. Is.” Harry shrugged. “I suppose the tense of the verb doesn’t matter much.”
Theo nodded. His eyes flicked once at Harry’s face, once towards the door.
Message received and understood.
Harry was glad that if he was going to hear about Death Eater meetings from someone who had been there, they had Theo as a son. Theo understood him a lot better than some of his other friends would have. “Come on. Do you want to go practice some of the spells that Erik is showing me lately?”
*
“His rat.”
“Yes, Griselda.” It still felt a bit unnatural to call Madam Marchbanks that, but Harry was making an effort on a regular basis.
Madam Marchbanks frowned and sat back in her chair. Harry was sitting across from her in the parlor, the room where they did most of their talking and Harry did his homework when he had it, or opened Christmas gifts. At the moment, the fire was out, and the sunlight sparkled on Madam Marchbanks’s opalescent hearing charms.
She made a snorting sound. “I don’t know what that means, and I hate not knowing.”
Harry nodded. He hated the same thing. But he had to admit, this had made him more curious about Black himself, and not just about how to protect himself from the bastard.
“I don’t suppose you have any contacts in the Order of the Phoenix that you could ask about what he was like?”
“Don’t need to do that, lad.”
“Why’s that?”
“I trained him myself for part of the war.”
Harry sat up, his hands digging into the chair arms. His whole body felt as though someone had struck him a blow to the head. “You didn’t say that,” he whispered. “I trusted you to tell me the truth, and you didn’t say that.”
Madam Marchbanks looked back at him, unimpressed. “You told me you didn’t want to hear it.”
“What? When?”
“The day he escaped. We discussed the basics, and then you said you didn’t want to hear any more.”
“I didn’t mean—if it was relevant information, of course I wanted to hear it! I just didn’t want to hear speculations on his escape or anything like that.”
“I obeyed what you said, Harry. You told me that you never wanted to discuss it again, and I went along with that.”
Harry stared at Madam Marchbanks. She stared back, her cane clutched in her hand and her ears shimmering with charms. He said, slowly, “You were testing me. You were waiting for me to ask for what I wanted, while still obeying the letter of my request.”
Madam Marchbanks didn’t cackle, the way Harry thought she might have at proving him wrong. She only looked at him, so calm that it was eerie, and stated, “You’re growing up. When you were younger, it was only right that I indulge you. You hadn’t been indulged much by those Muggles of yours. But there are certain things you need to learn, and how to think through the implications you don’t intend is one of them.”
Harry took a complicated breath. He wanted to feel betrayed, but he didn’t, not exactly. So he said, “You’re going to be testing me now? Not doing exactly what I want?”
Madam Marchbanks bobbed her head. “In situations like this where the consequences can’t unfold on your arse, yes.” Harry blinked a little. “I’ll still be pleased to come to school to yell at any of your professors or Headmasters who don’t do their duty. But when you need a little more freedom to think and fail, count on me.”
Harry looped his arms around his knees. His friends had sometimes talked about their parents doing things like this, like when Michael’s mother had let him cast a Freezing Charm that she knew wouldn’t work that well and let him plunge into cold water instead of skating on the ice. She’d been right there to save him, of course. But she’d let him do it.
Harry had scoffed at the thought. That wasn’t being the good parent so many people thought. That was betrayal. He’d thought a little less of Michael for not seeing it that way.
Now that he was the one there…
It didn’t really feel like that.
He looked up at Madam Marchbanks. She was puffing on her pipe now, sucking at the stem with loud disgusting sounds—well, Harry would have thought them disgusting if it was anyone but her. She watched him.
Harry sat up. “I’m ready to hear about Sirius Black now.”
He wouldn’t apologize for anything. It wans’t his way. But luckily, Madam Marchbanks wasn’t the kind of guardian who would make him apologize to prove a point, either.
She smiled at him. “Good lad. Here’s what I know.”
*
“Are you all right, Harry?”
Harry wanted to snap back, but this was Parvati, and she knew the most cutting insults among his friends. She would needle him if he did, and it wasn’t her fault that he was thinking what he was.
“Just thinking about Sirius Black.” Harry stretched out on Parvati’s bed. Mrs. Patil had seemed a little anxious about Harry and Parvati being by themselves in the same room, but Harry had smiled at her and explained that he was too young to be even thinking of having a girlfriend, and she’d allowed it. “Madam Marchbanks told me a few things about him.”
“What?” Parvati asked, leaning forwards.
“That he was from a family that practiced Dark Arts, one of the Darkest, but he’d tried to turn his back on them. She trained him in the kind of spells that would allow him to cause damage without crossing the kinds of lines that his family did.”
Privately, Harry thought a little less of Black for that. But he could also understand the impulse. Harry had defined himself against the little hero that a lot of people wanted him to be, and against the “normal” life that the Dursleys had wanted. Perhaps it wasn’t incomprehensible that Black had defined himself against his family.
“She trained him?”
“Yeah. He came to her because she didn’t want to join the Order of the Phoenix—”
“The what?”
Harry explained what Madam Marchbanks had told him about the Order, and then continued, “But she was still a great duelist. So Black asked if she would consent to aid the war effort by teaching him, and she did. She was shocked that he turned on his friends. Apparently, he considered James Potter a brother.”
“More than that.”
Harry blinked at Parvati. Yes, she had information on all sorts of people, but he wouldn’t have expected her to have anything on this person. Or at least know more than the adults did. “What do you mean?”
Parvati tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him the small, mean smile that Harry hadn’t seen her use even around Zacharias or Michael or Theo. It was good that she trusted him so much. It meant that Harry would probably have the advantage if he ever had to deal with her permanently.
“Yes. James Potter’s aunt by marriage was Dorea Black, one of your Black’s cousins. When Sirius Black ran away from his family, he put up the pretense of moving in with her and her Potter husband, even though he really moved in with James and his parents. It was a sort of face-saving move that allowed Walburga and Orion Black to pretend they had consented.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ll have you know that my sources are impeccable—”
“I didn’t mean that. I only mean that it seems strange Black considered my father family and was family to him by marriage, and still betrayed him.”
“Maybe he wanted power.”
“He would have had the chance for that if he’d stayed with his family. Both money and Dark Arts, Madam Marchbanks said.”
“There are other definitions of power. Maybe You-Know-who offered him one of those.”
Harry shrugged, unconvinced, but also not really caring. If Sirius Black came after him, then Harry would use the only kind of power that mattered, magical, to stop him. And if he tried something more indirect, then Harry knew Madam Marchbanks and Harry’s own fame could take care of him.
Parvati let it go, too, and told him several things she’d learned about Padma and the Ravenclaw girls she was friends with by listening outside her sister’s door. Harry listened with a smile, glad that Parvati was his.
*
“Absolutely not.”
It was all Madam Marchbanks had needed to say when they’d heard that Dementors were supposed to ride the Hogwarts Express to search for Sirius Black along the way. Harry had nodded when he’d heard it. The only sure defense against Dementors was the Patronus Charm, which he didn’t know. He thought he could probably learn it, even if it was supposed to be terribly difficult, but he had other things he’d rather concentrate on instead.
“I am Apparating you to this bloody school,” Madam Marchbanks said darkly, digging into the stones of the platform with her cane as they walked back to the entrance to King’s Cross. “Dementors! Has the Minister’s brain swollen to the point that it’s broken his bloody skull open? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Is there a hex that can do that?”
“Yes, but it’s incredibly traceable. Don’t let me hear that you’ve got caught hexing the Minister, Harry.”
Harry grinned. “If I promise to cast it with someone else’s wand, can I learn it?”
“That’s a good student,” Madam Marchbanks said, and beamed down at him with a fond smile, before she grasped his arm and Apparated him.
*
“It was horrible.”
Harry nodded as he stood with Theo outside the Great Hall. Theo hadn’t been with the others when they came off the train, and Harry had immediately left to find out why. It had seemed like common sense that Theo would be in the hospital wing, and he had been. Luckily, he’d already finished his meal of chocolate courtesy of Madam Pomfrey.
“And where were you?”
“We heard the Dementors would be searching the train, and Madam Marchbanks Apparated me ahead.”
Theo stiffened beside him. Harry stopped in the middle of walking into the Great Hall and turned around, wondering if Theo was still suffering the effects of the Dementors.
“She did that, and you didn’t think to warn us?”
“I thought you knew,” Harry said. It was only the truth. The news had probably been kept from some Muggleborns and their parents, but if Madam Marchbanks had learned it, then Theo’s father certainly should have been able to.
Theo clenched his fists hard enough that Harry heard his knuckles creak. “In the future, I’d appreciate if you would share advance notice of any danger you have, Harry. Even if you think that it’s ridiculous. Or I already know.”
Harry held Theo’s eyes until he looked down. Then Harry nodded. “I’ll take it into consideration.” He really had no reason not to do it, given that Theo was his friend, but it was best for Theo to know that he couldn’t command Harry, not at all, not in any way.
Theo mumbled something, and strode into the Great Hall, heading for the Slytherin table. Harry walked to the Ravenclaw one, smiling at Michael and nodding at a few of the others. It would be good to be on pleasant terms with a few more of them. If they took liberties because of that, Harry would teach them better.
“Where were you?”
Harry explained quietly and concisely. At least Michael had better sense than to blame Harry for not having shared the information, although that was probably because he hadn’t had as bad a reaction as Theo.
“If I could have your attention, please.”
Harry looked up. He’d missed the Sorting with going to inquire after Theo, but it wasn’t like he cared about that. He half-wished he’d managed to miss Dumbledore’s speech, as the man stood and spread his hands. Dumbledore’s smile dimmed a little at the sight of Harry.
Harry looked at him politely.
“It gives me great pleasure to introduce two new professors to our ranks. As Professor Kettleburn has retired for understandable reasons, I wish to introduce Rubeus Hagrid as your new Care of Magical Creatures instructor.”
Some people were clapping, others laughing or sneering. Harry clapped himself. He held no ill will against Hagrid, although he also wasn’t taking Care and wouldn’t be affected by this one way or the other.
“Our other new professor is Remus Lupin, taking over for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared at the worn-looking man who stood up to acknowledge a smattering of applause. Remus Lupin. The man who had sent him that book on Dark creatures for Christmas last year, and said in the signature that he was a friend of Harry’s parents.
The man who was avoiding Harry’s eyes right now.
It didn’t matter. Harry thought he knew who he could go to to resolve the puzzle of Sirius Black.
