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Enchanting Melodies (HP SI)

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Chapter 311: Of Scaly Yields
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    • Chapter 311: Of Scaly Yields

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    4 January 1995, Durmstrang

    Just like that, he felt a pull in his navel… A portkey… The last thing he felt before passing out was intense pain in his scar as well as dread at the familiar red eyes gleaming maliciously at him…

    When Neville woke up, he felt burning pain in his forehead, specifically his scar. When he finally recognized the feeling, all he could feel was dread. His scar had only burned in two scenarios. The first was when he channelled its power when he was almost becoming a second Lord Voldemort, and to fix this had cost him his position as the next Longbottom family head. The second time was in his first year when Voldemort was physically near him.

    By Merlin, this was so long ago… Had it really been three years since he last seen Lord Voldemort, the real Voldemort, at least? Did Tom Riddle – from the diary – even count?

    But the burning, it was pretty similar to what he felt when Voldemort was nearby. It was more consistent like someone put some hot metal on his scar. Damn it, he really needed to get out of here…

    He tried to move for the first time, only to notice himself being chained to a wall in some sort of cave… He thrashed around many times, until a familiar voice interrupted him, "I'm afraid that your chains are charmed to be unbreakable, young Neville, and you do not have a wand on you…"

    A somewhat familiar man stepped up in front of him. He was dark-haired, pale with a somewhat slim body. He would have been unremarkable if it wasn't for the glowing red eyes on his face. He would recognize these eyes anywhere, "Voldemort…"

    "In the flesh," the man retorted, "Well, in young Amycus' flesh. It was a shame that I had to deprive him of his own… He was so loyal, though, so very loyal… These kinds of followers are quite rare. But his sister will be compensated for his sacrifice."

    Ah, so that was why the face was so recognizable… Amycus Carrow… Neville's grandmother had practically drilled him on the Death Eaters who had bribed their way out of Azkaban. In the Carrows' case, it was probably because they were the last of their family line and the ministry loathed to end those, even if everyone knew about their actions…

    Neville didn't say anything and just glared at the monster through the pain, "You know, I had this very big ritual planned up. It would have been so complicated, would have had to have been performed during the summer solstice to have enough power, with some very complicated potion and everything… Imagine how lucky I was when I realized that there was an immense magical release during every single one of those pesky tasks… It was probably Dumbledore's doing… Who would have thought that the old man would be the one who gave me such an opportunity? Now, all I had to do was wait…"

    Before Neville could say anything, runes from all over the cave started to light up and the red-eyed monster grinned. He took out a small bone in the shape of a spike and murmured, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, to renew the son… Flesh of the servant, willingly given to revive the master…"

    Then Neville felt a small sting on his foot, which quickly started to burn… He saw a massive snake – how did he not notice it before? – biting his leg, which slowly started to drip blood on the ground.

    The dark lord slowly soaked the spiky end of the bone in the blood and murmured, "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, to resurrect the foe…"

    Suddenly, the man stabbed himself in the chest and the runes' glow turned red.

    Neville prayed to every possible deity that the ritual wouldn't have worked, that Lord Voldemort had made a mistake and killed himself. Unfortunately, it wasn't the case, as Amycus Carrow's body started to slowly morph. His features shifted grotesquely; his face elongated, his hair retracted into his scalp, and his skin became smoother. The transformation continued, bones cracking and reshaping with eerie sounds, until the figure standing before Neville no longer resembled Amycus at all.

    Instead, before him stood a man who looked remarkably like an older Tom Riddle, yet with a more sinister presence. His face was now more mature, with high cheekbones and a cold, calculating expression, but the same dark, piercing eyes that once belonged to the young man who became Voldemort. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he flexed his reborn body, relishing in his renewed strength.

    "Ah, that feels good," Voldemort said as he stretched his body, "You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to be in someone else's body. Everything just feels wrong… Now, what to do with you?"

    The Dark Lord knelt towards him, looking into his eyes. Neville felt the Legilimency attack trying to sneak his secrets and did his best to clear his mind with his mediocre skill in Occlumency. Seeing the Dark Lord being so close, a small plan formed in Neville's head. He suddenly thrashed and got his leg to touch the Dark Lord's own…

    He expected the man to burst into flames as Quirrell did… Imagine his surprise when nothing happened and the monster simply chuckled, "You're cleverer than most people give you credit, I'll admit that Longbottom… Well, not really, more like you're more resourceful. This would have been a nice plan had I not designed the ritual to specifically counter your mother's blood protection… After all, your blood now runs in my veins and your protection, bound in blood, cannot differentiate between you and me anymore. Which means, I can touch you now…"

    Neville felt his enemy's finger touch his forehead and thought his head would explode from the pain. Sure, his scar had hurt him before, but not like this… Never like this….

    When Voldemort let go, Neville gasped in relief, and mumbled, "That's why you used my blood…"

    "Of course… Although, it would have been… cleaner… if I had retrieved your blood during your trip here, to Durmstrang… I wouldn't have had to resort to taking over poor Amycus' body to get inside and would have just been able to use the Winter Solstice with a bit of your blood to return. Abducting you was much louder than I would have liked…"

    A memory just trickled into Neville's mind, "The attack on the Hogwarts Express. That was you…"

    "Yes. They were only supposed to steal a vial of your blood… Amycus was the one to lead them, and he knew what the price for his failure would have been. To fail to attack a small group of teenagers with a single adult witch, one that happened to be overwhelmed while piloting the damn dragon was more than disappointing enough… They had an army at their back, that's not to mention the dragons… Then again, Harry Potter was always going to be an unpredictable variable. But even with him being there, distracting the boy for enough time to take a vial of blood shouldn't have been that hard…"

    Neville remembered something… Harry looked around his body when the Hogwarts Express was attacked, trying to find any sign of bleeding. Did he know about this? Did he know that Voldemort would have needed his blood to resurrect himself?

    No, this wasn't the time to ponder, he needed to find a way to escape before Voldemort inevitably got tired of talking and started killing him…

    Speaking of the Dark Lord, he continued monologuing, "At least, he accepted his punishment with honour. He did not run away. That's more than I could say for most of my former inner circle, not that many of them are left. The Lestranges and poor Barty were killed by that damnable Evans woman. Lucius is also dead, at the hands of some serial killer. Rookwood, Dolohov, Rosier, and Greyback were given the dementor's kiss and Macnair is in prison. Poor Mulciber died at the hands of Potter during the attack on the Hogwarts Express, and now even Amycus Carrow is lost to me… The rest have betrayed me, Snape, Nott, and worst of all, Karkaroff. He will die soon, even if he was instrumental in you easily coming here…"

    Neville's confusion should have been obvious since the Dark Lord chuckled, "Oh, don't be so surprised… Did you not suspect anything when there were no teams around you, where the other schools were attacked by hundreds of creatures while you only had to walk to the cave? Even the serpent was only instructed to let a speaker touch the stone… Every road you took led you to this moment, to my return… To think you're supposed to be my equal… If you hadn't survived my curse head-on, I would have thought that this prophecy was a farce… Perhaps, I simply chose wrong, and Potter was my equal all along…"

    The young wizard gasped, "What prophecy?"

    "You do not know? How surprising… I would have thought Dumbledore would have told you… Why do you think I attacked your family on that fateful night… I did many reprehensible things during the war, that I will admit, but my aim was not to end family lines. I always wanted one thing in life and that was to kill Albus Dumbledore, to take away his hold over Magical Britain and let it prosper once more… It's ironic, how he lost control over the country just by himself… But I still wish to kill him… To stop this endless cycle of war and death… It would have been more advantageous to simply take you, raise you with one of my families and gain a valuable old family at my back… There is no logic in killing children, after all… And yet, I tried to kill you… And failed, for that matter…"

    He sighed and continued, "There was a prophecy of a child born at the end of July that would be my equal... I narrowed it down to two, Harry Potter and you. I chose you because you had the purer blood and tasked Bellatrix to kill the other boy… She would fail, and so did I… Sometimes I think I chose wrong. When I compare you and Potter, it's like night and day… You're just such a disappointment, Neville… But that's enough chitchat… I don't even know why I'm talking to you… Perhaps, I am being merciful, giving you answers as you slowly succumb to Nagini's venom… Hmm… Perhaps, I am giving you a kindness…"

    "You're going to lose," Neville simply stated.

    The red-eyed man looked amused, "Is that so? You're dying now, alone. Well, with your only company being the man who murdered your parents… You're slowly wasting away until you die and fade into the abyss…"

    "If I die, then I'm not the prophecy child, am I? That means that you'll always wonder if you picked wrong… The question will keep niggling into your head and you'll have to face him… Harry Potter…"

    The man's eyes glowed with his glare and Neville started to giggle, "I see it now… You're not a monster, not like people like to portray you are… Maybe like how you would like the world to see you… You're just a coward, afraid of Death… I see it in your eyes, the sheer terror at the thought… In fearing Death, you have not found anything worth living for… You haven't found anything worth dying for. And for that, I pity you… When I die, my parents will greet me on the other side… Who would greet you, I wonder… Will anyone even care?"

    Just like that, the smile disappeared from Voldemort's face, and he sneered at Neville, "There is nothing on the other side, boy, just darkness and nothingness. When you die, you will not be greeted by your parents. You will not be greeted by anyone… You will fade away in the void until you become the nothingness around you… But now, I suppose it's time for you to experience that. Goodbye, Neville Longbottom…"

    The Dark Lord raised his wand, prepared to cast a killing curse at the bound and dying boy, only for a large crack to resonate all over the cave. Voldemort cast a shield, blocking a bolt of lightning coming his way and turned towards it with an amused smile on his face, "Oh, how unexpected… Of all the people who would track me down, I did not expect you…"

    Even through his blurring vision, Neville saw Hermione Granger's face looking at the Dark Lord with a neutral expression on her face, "Hello, Tom Riddle…"

    AN: So, Voldemort is finally back. I changed up the ritual a bit since I think it was more suitable to how I portrayed magic in the story and I tried to tie it to what happened during the Hogwarts Express attack... I know most of you don't like chapters without Harry in them but I honestly believe that Voldemort's return should be a Neville-centric event, even if I connected it with the prophecy's destruction.

    Nevertheless, I decided that it was time for Voldemort to come back (You'll understand after a couple of chapters), and he will be a pretty important character in the future, especially as he tries to rebuild his power base.

    I know that some of you were frustrated with the sword's destruction and Lily's behaviour in the previous chapter. The truth is that Harry was always at a disadvantage in this fight because his goal wasn't to defeat Lily but to protect the sword, and he was winning for most of it. He was in a defensive position, without the perks of preparing his environment or putting up any wards... There is a pay-off, and Lily's behaviour will make sense. I probably shouldn't have waited so much to reveal her motivations and it probably took a lot from the fight scene, but it's coming in the next few chapters. The arc is ending in the next few chapters, so, when it's done, I'll make a poll or something about what to change in the last few chapters to make the fight scene more impactful.

    To be honest, I'm excited to finally use him as a character, especially since I sort of kept him in the background. Anyway, as usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
     
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    • Chapter 312: The Owl and the Serpent
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 312: The Owl and the Serpent

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    4 January 1995, Durmstrang

    Even through his blurring vision, Neville saw Hermione Granger's face looking at the Dark Lord with a neutral expression on her face, "Hello, Tom Riddle…"

    Hermione Granger knew that she was in trouble. She had traced back the portkey that Neville had taken and followed it by apparating there. It was a technique that the Unspeakables had taught her, a way to essentially backtrack the nearest Portkey use, using a backdoor in the system, and follow to the destination.

    She knew that there was something afoot during the task. It was all far easier than it should have been and considering that they hadn't seen any of the other teams, it was abnormal. Even in a rigged game, the organisers would have wanted there to be a challenge, something akin to a close race. And the organisers did have control over the task, even if no one liked to admit it. Considering what Harry did in the previous tasks, it was only logical that they try to make every event go according to plan.

    Still, she expected Neville to be kidnapped or worse. She expected many things, really. What she never expected was to see the familiar face of Tom Riddle staring down at her.

    She had nightmares of this day, to see his face once more. This was the man who had ruined her life, who had manipulated her whilst doing some very horrible things while possessing her. This was the person who had caused her to be trapped in his infernal diary, which was why she ended up in the Department of Mysteries and after that, at the mercy of Lily Evans.

    The moment she recognized him, she attacked him. It was out of pure instinct, to hurt the man who had destroyed her chance at a normal life. Tom had shielded against the attack, and looked back at her, "Oh, how unexpected. Of all the people who would track me down, I did not expect you."

    She wanted to tear his face, to burn his body to ash. She wanted to see him scream and writhe in agony. Instead, she composed herself. She needed to be rational about this, even if his face aggravated her to no end.

    It all started and ended with the man in front of her and she forced herself to calm down and replied to his previous comment, "Hello, Tom Riddle."

    However, that was when she met the man's eyes, and everything changed. Those red cruel eyes did not belong to Tom Riddle. He was a charming young man, who lured people with his darkness until they became consumed by it. The man in front of her was a monster wearing Tom Riddle's face. There truly was a difference between him and Voldemort.

    The man's smug smile melted, and Hermione felt a thrill at this small victory, "Tom Riddle is dead. I am all that remains, Lord Voldemort."

    She nodded at that, "I see."

    The muggleborn looked around her and analysed her situation. She was in front of one of the most dangerous men in the world, a man who had terrorized Britain for the better part of a decade.

    Her main objective was to save Neville. She recognized the snake bite mark on his leg, probably from the large snake that she saw hiding in the corner of the cave, probably ready to take her by surprise. Assuming that Neville was bit when he landed, she had a few minutes, ten at most, to take him to a healer to stabilize him.

    Now, how to extract Neville. Apparition was too risky given the high risk of aggravating his condition, but what about the portkey? If she hijacked it, she could change the destination a bit to the stands. That should be enough help.

    Alright, that was the objective and time frame analysed, now the obstacles.

    There was the snake, obviously. But a bit of transfiguration could neutralize it until it came.

    The main threat was Voldemort. Which was sort of obvious. She didn't need to defeat him, just distract him enough for Neville to escape.

    She couldn't beat him in a straight fight, she would need to cheat. His advantage was very obvious. He was more powerful and far more knowledgeable than her. Her advantage was the fact that his body was new, and he still needed to acclimate to it. He looked different than the pictures in old newspapers. His body was slimmer, his fingers longer. He was also arrogant, which he had a right to be, but it was still something that she could use.

    Hermione needed to element of surprise on her side, and she did so by casting a lightning piercer at him, which the dark lord batted away like it was nothing. Still, she used the distraction to transfigure the wall on her left where the snake was ready to strike, blocking it from taking her by surprise.

    Still, she barely had time to dodge a blasting curse which blew up half of the cavern behind her. That level of raw power was worrying, to say the least. So, no shielding, then.

    She followed through with a small combination of attacks, trying to sneakily alter her surroundings, yet he countered them with an expression of amused boredom, "You're good for your age, I'll admit to that, but you still have a long way to go."

    With a casual ease, he cast a blasting curse at the ceiling, getting the stalactites to fall towards her. She countered by releasing a pulsing shield charm which telekinetically sent them away. She quickly transfigured them into glass and banished them towards the Dark Lord.

    The red-eyed man just waved his wand, and all of the glass shattered. Then he sent a gust of wind that threw the thousands of small pieces of ice back to her. She conjured another shield to stop the assault. She did manage to do so, but a small piece did break through, which cut her in the cheek.

    She saw her enemy conjure a bolt of lightning of his own and conjured two lightning rods. One, she banished towards Voldemort, and the other was in front of her. Just as she expected, the dark lord dodged the rod and released the bolt. Her lightning rod absorbed the bolt of lightning and immediately sent it back towards the other rod, with Voldemort being in the way.

    Hermione had expected this would have been the perfect time to get Neville and run. She would have done exactly this if it wasn't for the fact that Voldemort just waved his wand and literally caught the lightning with it. The thing slowly turned into an orb of light, which transformed into a beam of energy that she was barely able to dodge.

    A cavern almost as large as the one previously was created by the explosion. She would have expected the damn mountain to fall apart at the impact, which sent her flying into the ground.

    She could barely see anything from the cloud of dust from the explosion, and so, she didn't notice until it was too late that the Dark Lord had conjured some kind of ropes of Darkness and bound her to it.

    He raised an eyebrow at her, "You're definitely an impressive young witch, Ms. Granger. You have such a unique fighting style. It seems almost familiar, a hybrid of two distinct styles, I believe. One of them was one I adopted in my younger years, one that I outgrew, and the other belonged to a woman that I have personally fought three times. That trick with the lightning rod was one of hers. It worked on me once, and I have adapted to it. It was what gave you away. One does not forget the tactics that actually landed a strong hit on my person. Lily Evans and Tom Riddle. Both dead people. I wonder how you learned their styles."

    Hermione used a wandless telekinetic pulse – one of the few spells she knew how to cast without a wand – and tried to cast something at him, only for her hand to freeze mid-cast.

    The Dark Lord looked amused more than anything, "Now, now. That was a very sneaky trick, my dear. It's something Lily Evans would have done, and you, Hermione Granger, are no Lily Evans."

    She activated a small rune on her hand, which stopped petrifying magic and conjured a fireball at the man, which literally faded away with a wave of his wand. A surprisingly warm smile appeared on the red-eyed man's face, "This wand is a suitable replacement. It fits me far better than Amycus' own."

    Hermione finally noticed the wand that the man was holding, "This is Neville's wand."

    "Ironic, isn't it, that my enemy's wand suits me better than that of my servants. Still, it is a good omen. Wands tend to change allegiance if their owners are defeated. This is proof of my victory."

    Hermione cast a wandless light spell, weakening her shadow bonds enough to break through them. She rolled as a sickly yellow curse hurled towards her previous location and sent a wind cutter at him.

    Voldemort dispelled it with another wave of his wand and Hermione kept sending spell after spell. Unexpectantly, the dark lord chose not to attack back and instead took the assault head-on, literally dispelling every curse and spell before they hit him.

    In the middle of the assault, she had pretended to have missed a spell, which was a disguised animation one. It should have conjured spikes from behind him, but he dispelled it as well without even looking back. He snorted at the effort, "Another stolen move?"

    He shook his head with a disappointed expression on his face, "Is this it? Is this what you're capable of, copying other people's tactics."

    Voldemort didn't give her a chance the answer. He just waved his wand, and a giant fist formed from the ground and punched her. Ropes of darkness appeared from behind her and pulled her back to the ground. She could hear more than a few bones breaking and she was barely able to breathe through the pain.

    The man walked towards her, slowly, "All that potential, and not a single drop of originality behind it. You're exactly what I fought to stop and what I will have to change when I get back to Britain. You're exactly what Dumbledore wanted the magical world to become, and it sickens me. Where is the innovation? Where are the experiments? Where is the individuality in your magic?"

    Hermione snarled and conjured the biggest flames she could from her wand. A giant maelstrom of fire and ashes leapt out of it, swallowing everything in front of it. She was spent with that single spell.

    Unfortunately, Voldemort reacted the way an insane man would, by conjuring Fiendfyre of all things. There was a logic to it, of course, to have stronger flames swallow her own. It was an intimidation tactic, a way for him to see the hopelessness in her eyes.

    It worked. She did feel hopeless.

    Hermione knew that she was outmatched from the start, but she could barely even make him move, let alone distract him from Neville.

    Voldemort was enjoying this. Seeing the scared look in her eyes as hope slowly faded away into fear. She had to admit that the man's control over Fiendfyre was unlike anything she had ever read. It was like he had mastered this spell to a degree that the world had not seen before.

    The fire turned into a giant snake which started to leap towards her.

    Right as it did so, the dark lord was pushed to the side by an invisible force. Hermione looked at its possible source and saw a semi-conscious Neville Longbottom raising his arm towards his parent's murderer.

    However, it was enough for the Fiendfyre to get slightly out of control.

    This was exactly it, the distraction that they needed. Hermione ran towards the blue gem and grabbed it. It took less than a second for her to make her modification. Now she only needed to get to Neville.

    She noticed the dark lord gaining control over the summoned flames once more and decided to take a gamble. During the entire confrontation, she had noticed that he hadn't tried to free his serpent. It would have been an easy way to take her by surprise, which meant that he also wanted to protect it. She didn't know if it was his familiar or anything like it, but that didn't matter. What mattered was leverage.

    Hermione sent a blasting curse towards the place where she banished the snake, breaking the wall. The serpent was taken by surprise by it and Hermione was able to capitalize by summoning the stone behind it. It dragged the serpent with it towards the Fiendfyre.

    She didn't really look if she was able to kill the thing. She didn't really care about it. What mattered was Voldemort being distracted. She limped towards the fallen form of Neville and activated the Portkey back to the stands.

    The moment she did so, she heard Voldemort's inhuman cries of rage but that didn't matter. As the familiar form of the stands met her eyes, she yelled out, "Healers! Neville! Poison!" She saw the look of alarm and confusion from the people around her before the world faded to black and she passed out from the pain and exertion.

    AN: I wrote this with two hours of sleep and I plan to reread it later. For some reason, lack of sleep tends to help me write, even if I sometimes miss some obvious stuff. Anyway, I tried to make the fight scene engaging, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
     
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    • Arimai said:
    Unless he deviated from his number of seven that's four left
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    It has been a long time since I read the ealiest chapters, but let me count/recap these:
    - The diadem was destroyed by the diary.
    - The locket was destroyed by Harry to make his Soul Bullets.
    - The diary was destroyed by a Soul Bullet from Harry at the end of the second year.
    - The ring was destroyed by Harry when he recovered the resurrection stone.
    - The cup was destroyed this Christmas during the Ball
    - The snake was probably destroyed just now (hopping Hermione is a good shot)
    So, only Neville remains, assuming Voldy did not create new ones, or have alternative backup plans in case of dying.
     
    Chapter 313: The Scattering Flames
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    • Chapter 313: The Scattering Flames

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    4 January 1995, Durmstrang

    As she swung her sword, Harry channelled his family crest, asking it for anything to stop the dagger. A beam of pure darkness, pure entropy, flew towards Lily and hit her dagger right as she was swinging it. Unfortunately, it was too late, the dagger hit Gram and shattered it to pieces. And in response, the world screamed.

    Time was a funny thing. Harry was probably one of the few mages who understood time the most and he would agree with that. The way someone experienced time was always different. Sometimes hours could feel like minutes and sometimes a single second could last a lifetime.

    For Harry, that second that lasted an eternity, the one that felt like it would never end, was the one right after Gram was destroyed. He felt the world hold its breath as if it was gasping at the transgression that occurred before it, the sheer blasphemy...

    Prophecies were just as wild, just as unpredictable. Sometimes, they sort of faded away in time, forgotten. Sometimes, they were even fulfilled without anyone even knowing about them. It was rare for them to be specific because it was in the nature of the world to fulfil it. The universe was chaotic, in its natural state, and prophecy tried to order this chaos, give it purpose, and guide it like a stream of water to a certain destination. And to do that, it literally pruned events in their track, blocked them from happening and used its potential energy to force reality itself to accept its guidance. And to break a prophecy, one had to go against the world itself.

    For a prophecy to be specific was to use an insane amount of energy. Sigurd's heir was something old, something the universe had invested a lot of energy to make happen. Gram was supposed to be wielded. A new hero was supposed to be born.

    And yet, the shattered remains of the legendary sword said otherwise. The world looked at the travesty before it and screamed in agony.

    Harry was always sensitive to the magic around him and magic was how the world communicated. His Arcane Hearing was more than just understanding magic but comprehending the will of the world itself.

    He wanted to flinch at the sound – he really did; music was a very vague way of communication, and yet there was no distinction that the world mourned the loss of the prophecy, and then it roared in anger.

    The magical release expanded as quickly as possible, probably powering Dumbledore's ritual. It was far more violent than the one in Rome, far more violent. It was funny, really. The world cared more about an old sword than the life of an innocent child.

    Still, the magical release spread around Harry's spell, his beam of darkness that almost destroyed her dagger. It wasn't something he had ever used before. There was a reason why he rarely relied on his family crest and that was that he knew he wouldn't grow if he used them regularly.

    That was a mistake. He should have practised them more, mastered them even. He had essentially let the crest take over near the end of the fight out of desperation, and he shouldn't have.

    The darkness was akin to a disease, a way to destroy magic and matter by infecting them. He didn't really understand the theory, just some guideline from his crest, but it had a chance at destroying the dagger, but he didn't honestly know. He might have gone overboard by casting it, or it might have done nothing. He honestly had no clue what the properties of the magical dagger were and how its interaction with the spell would be, especially since it was one, he never actually cast in his life.

    This was also why he was completely baffled when the magic release condensed around the spell and assimilated its properties. Somehow, the pulse of magic became visible, destroying everything in sight. The size of the earlier magical release and an estimation from the one during the previous tasks made it easy for Harry to realize the scale of what could happen.

    Durmstrang would have definitely been wiped off the map, that was for certain, but there was a chance that countless settlements in the area would die as well. The range went far beyond the mountains, maybe even the entire region.

    All of that, in just a single moment, a single event.

    He had a hand in this. He might not have broken the blade, but he was the one who cast a spell that he did not understand.

    It was only right that he fixed his own mistakes.

    The dark pulse of magic was growing wider and wider, ready to swallow the world whole.

    Or at least, it would have, had it not been for the hundreds of magic circles surrounding it and stopping it in its track.

    As he said before, time was funny. It was hard to believe that Gram was destroyed less than a second prior. He never experienced something like this, before, a moment frozen in an eternity.

    Space and Time went hand in hand. They were a mighty force that was fundamental to reality itself. Harry used them to imprison the pulse of destruction. He had frozen it in time, bound it to a moment that became an eternity, and expanded the space around it into a fraction of infinity itself.

    It was hard. It was agonizing. The universe itself fought to make its anger known and yet Harry was holding it back. But he didn't know how long he could keep doing so.

    "What are you doing?" a voice asked from behind him.

    Ah, Lily Evans. It was funny how much one would forget when things look from a different perspective. He didn't have the energy to hate her, not anymore. She was such a loathsome individual, selfish and self-serving.

    He turned at her, trying to suppress his anger, "Holding it back..."

    "The energy was released. You're just holding back its physical manifestation. Just shield yourself and leave."

    Harry didn't answer her and instead asked a question of his own, "Was it worth it?"

    "Was what worth it?"

    "What you just did. Betraying my trust. working with Dumbledore. Fighting me. Are you happy?"

    She looked honestly flabbergasted at this and was actively gaping at him. It took a few seconds for her to answer, "Yes. I never worked with Dumbledore. I told you that."

    "But you still fought me here for a reason. Why is that then?"

    "My realm, the dimension I was tied to. The connection broke when I came back and faded away as I used it. It was a part of me for over a decade, and I needed it back. I came here to see if Dumbledore had any designs in Britain, to understand why he went to such lengths for the European tournament. I had planned on killing a prophecy in Britain and making a connection to my realm there. And since Dumbledore was already doing my work for me here, there was no need for me to interfere, really. It was me being resourceful and merciful; after all, it was unlikely that there would have been no bloodshed if I had to destroy another prophecy."

    Harry couldn't help but snort at that, "That was what it was all about, wasn't it? You wanted to use another broken prophecy to open a gate once more, a more controlled one, and make a connection to your dimension. You essentially copied Dumbledore, huh."

    Lily didn't answer and Harry just burst into laughter, "You wanted power. That was all it was about, wasn't it? That's all that mattered. You betrayed me, your only child, for a realm of fire and ash. What a fucking joke."

    "I don't expect you to understand. This realm was just as part of me, as magic is a part of you. Losing it was like losing a limb. What would you do if you lost your magic? Would you not do anything just to get it back, even make a deal with the devil?"

    Harry calmed down slightly, "I don't know what I would have done, to be honest. And yet, that doesn't change anything. We're still here, alone in this place and you know what the funny thing is, even if you're the one who did this, even if you're the one who was selfish enough to do something like this, I'll be the one who ends up paying the consequences."

    "What consequences?" she retorted with a confused tone.

    Harry didn't answer her and just kept speaking, "You know, the funny thing was that I once would have craved to have a mother. I would have loved to have someone take care of me for once, to help me without asking anything in return. I look at you and I can't help but think that I dodged a bullet. Then again, maybe if I was there, you wouldn't have become such a spiteful power-hungry loathsome bitch that you are now. You're such a fucking disappointment."

    He was actually channelling his past life in this moment. He was always alone, always had to take care of people and rarely had anyone do the same to him. He had loved his mother, in his past life, but she had always been busy taking care of his brother to pay any attention to him, and when he grew up, he ended up taking care of them both.

    He honestly didn't know if he could have considered anyone else to be his mother. Maybe he would have. He didn't exactly remember his previous life until he was eleven years old, so it was possible. But Harry didn't really need a mother, he just wanted someone that he could rely on, someone that would have his back and give him advice.

    Lily was never that. But she was more similar to him than anyone he had ever met before. It was pretty telling that he was similar to a woman who had killed her own husband in cold blood, massacred an entire village, and took over half of Magical Britain in the span of a few months.

    Lily actually flinched at his words, "Look, Harry, I know I hurt you. I know I wasn't the perfect mother. But I'm done. This is it. I'm whole again. We don't need to stay here; you could come with me in Britain. I now have the power to finally bring order to this place, to make it prosper. We could do that together."

    Harry let out a bitter chuckle, "No, we can't. That's the funny part."

    "What are you talking about? Is this about the magical release? It's done, you're wasting your magic on nothing."

    He decided to just rip off the bandage, "It interacted with my spell. It will unravel everything in the entire fortress in seconds and will go even further. I honestly don't know."

    And just like that, Lily Evans, the infamous Red Witch, paled as she quickly made the arithmancy in her head, "You're stopping a magic pulse of this size from spreading. How?"

    "A ball of space and time. I'm expanding the very fabric of space around it as it moves, and I'm slowing them down as much as I can while doing so."

    "You could just leave, apparate out."

    "The moment I do anything, the spell will be broken and Durmstrang will fall in a blink of an eye. I refuse to do something like this, especially since Daphne is still in the fortress somewhere."

    She protested, "The spell will break eventually. Your body will shut down at some point."

    "I know," he stated.

    "You're killing yourself for nothing. They're all dead anyway!"

    He yelled at her, "I KNOW!"

    He took a deep breath, "I know. All I'm doing is buying them moments at best. But it's the best I can do. Unless."

    "Unless what?" Lily asked hopefully.

    "Unless someone else took my place, and contained the singularity until I got out."

    He was absolutely bullshitting this, to be honest. There was no way Lily could stop this. Harry was constantly dealing with alterations of the magical release as it tried to escape and spread. He wasn't using a spell, but actively manipulated space and time to achieve this. Lily had no knowledge of these concepts, and she would never learn if he had any say in it.

    However, he still wanted to make a point, and it was something that he achieved when Lily practically jumped back in panic with small tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry, Harry."

    The last Potter nodded at her with disappointed eyes, "I expected as much. Can I ask you something before you leave?"

    She hesitantly nodded and he continued, "Can you get Daphne out of here? Take her with you back to Britain."

    She looked surer this time, "I will."

    He gave her a slight smile, "Thank you. Can you get one with it? I'm sort of running on fumes here and I don't know how long I can hold on."

    The redhead walked out of the cave but gave him a sad look as she left, "Goodbye, Harry. I'm sorry."

    "Goodbye, Lily."

    And when she left, he murmured, "And I'm sorry, too."

    Because he wasn't going to let Lily Evans' mistakes kill an entire generation of mages. A small plan had formed in the middle of their conversation. It was mad. That was actually understanding things. It was absolutely insane. But it could work.

    He hoped Lily would forgive him one day, then again, it was her fault. He couldn't really deny the sense of vindictiveness he felt as he was planning this.

    He had kept her talking for as long as possible, tracking her magic, understanding her connection with her dimension. He hadn't really gotten much, but it was enough to trace it back. A connection was a portal of some sort. And since Lily opened a door, other people could technically go through as well, especially as she still hadn't gotten a handle on it.

    Harry slowly yelled as he slowly shrank down the sphere before him. He, of course, had to compensate by making the internal dimensions even larger as he did so. He pushed and pushed with all his mind, warping time and space in ways that he never did before.

    Until he quickly traced back the rift that Lily made and threw it inside. It was a Hail Mary at best, but Harry pushed it into the rift. It resisted. The world itself resisted as he did so. But he kept pushing and pushing even further.

    He realized that he was screaming in exertion. but it was working. Somehow, the plan was working.

    When the sphere finally entered the rift, he felt another explosion coming, one without the darkness he had cast. Harry quickly created a portal to protect himself from the blast, trying to redirect it. There was a blast of white, and then, nothing.

    Well, there was nothing for a fraction of a second until he found himself thrown into a bunch of mud and grass. This definitely wasn't Durmstrang anymore.

    Now, where the fuck was he?

    That was Harry's last thought before everything turned black.

    AN: I rewrote this chapter three times until I was satisfied with it. I don't know if it came out exactly like I wanted it to, but I hope it did... As for what's next, I have an idea that idk if you'll all like it or not, but I'll go with it and in the worst case I'll scrap it and go with my backup. Anyway, you'll see it in the next chapter, and I'll make the decision depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions...
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 314: The Lost Raven
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 314: The Lost Raven

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    Unknown place, Unknown time

    There was a blast of white, and then, nothing… Well, there was nothing for a fraction of a second until he found himself thrown into a bunch of mud and grass… This definitely wasn't Durmstrang anymore… Now, where the fuck was he? That was Harry's last thought before everything turned black…

    Harry woke up feeling something wet dripping on him. He tried to stop it by raising his arms, but that didn't seem to do anything, "Stop."

    Of course, the moment he actually spoke was when he realized just how much everything hurt. By all that is holy, it even hurt to even think. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, and his magic circuits were burning from overuse, a searing pain that pulsed with every heartbeat. Confusion and exhaustion weighed heavily on him, but underneath it all, there was a flicker of determination. He was lost and disoriented, but he knew he had to get up, had to move.

    And that was when he finally opened his eyes and saw a cloudy sky above him. It was raining very faintly, and it was probably going to start pouring pretty heavily later. Harry blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. As the world around him came into focus, he noticed the rolling hills dotted with patches of wildflowers and the distant, dark outline of towering trees.

    He slowly pushed himself up, wincing with every movement, and looked around more carefully. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. In the distance, he saw a familiar grove of ancient oaks, their gnarled branches twisting towards the sky.

    It was then that a deep sense of familiarity washed over him. He recognized the landscape, the hills, and the forest. These were the hills near the Forbidden Forest.

    Had he travelled all the way back to Britain?

    How long was he even unconscious?

    Deciding that staying there would achieve nothing, he started walking – well, more like limping – towards Hogsmeade, barely able to cast an illusion to hide his looks, because of his burning circuits. Honestly, he was just being safe. Harry couldn't exactly risk someone recognizing him and revealing that he could somehow leave Durmstrang without permission. That heist in Gringotts was already making a lot of noise and it would be easy to blame him if people knew that he could get in and out of place without being noticed, even if they didn't have any evidence. Magical Britain rarely needed evidence to send people to prison.

    It took almost an hour of limping, but Harry finally found himself in front of the village of Hogsmeade. His stomach growled signifying his hunger when he stared at the familiar sight of the Three Broomsticks. Yes, that was a good idea.

    He slowly walked to the inn and sat down. It hadn't taken more than a minute until Madam Rosmerta walked up to him and spoke up, "You're a new face. We don't get a lot of those around here."

    "Yeah, I've been travelling for a bit. This is just one of my stops."

    "You really could have picked a better time, to be honest. Last year was a lot more exciting with the foreigners and the tourists. We made a nice bit of gold from that. It's a real shame how things ended, really. Anyway, what can I get you?"

    Harry slowly processed her words. What had happened the previous year? Wasn't that just the Hogsmeade attack? Still, he decided to just answer her question, "A butterbeer and a shepherd's pie, please."

    She smiled at him pleasantly and commented, "Coming right up."

    With her gone, Harry was finally allowed to slowly process what happened. He started to notice the oddities slightly. There were small differences in the decorations, not much, but it was enough to be noticeable. A few pictures on the walls were of people he didn't recognize; the chairs were enchanted just a tad differently. When he used his Arcane Hearing, everything just felt slightly different. Like a different shade of grey. Close but not exactly the same.

    What the fuck was going on.

    Unfortunately, his train of thought was interrupted by Rosmerta finally giving him his meal and drink, which distracted him immensely. He quickly paid her with some of his emergency gold and started to listen around in the inn. As he took a bite of his shepherd's pie, a conversation at a nearby table caught his attention.

    A wizard and a witch were speaking in hushed tones, clearly annoyed. "Did you hear about Harry Potter's latest stunt? Claims You-Know-Who is back. Honestly, the boy will say anything for attention," the wizard said, shaking his head.

    The witch nodded in agreement, her expression one of disdain. "He's just an attention seeker. Always has been. He knew that he'd outgrow being the boy who lived one day and he's been trying to stay relevant. It's getting pathetic."

    Harry felt a cold chill run down his spine. Harry Potter lying about Voldemort's return? That didn't make sense. Neville Longbottom was the boy who lived, not Harry. And since when was Voldemort back?

    He prayed he was wrong with his deduction. He had to be wrong. He stood up and walked over to the table with the newspapers. Picking one up, he quickly scanned the front page. The headline caught his eye: "Harry Potter Acquitted: Charges of Breaking Statute of Secrecy and Underage Magic Dropped on Technicality."

    Harry's breath caught in his throat. The date at the top of the page read 10th August 1995.

    He didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was irrefutable. He eliminated everything else. He tried to find out if he was trapped in an elaborate illusion, tried to think that he was just hallucinating, that everything was in his head. Only to come up with nothing.

    What really sealed the deal was the state of this universe's Ambient Magic.

    It was different and it showed. In Harry's world, magic held scars, for the lack of a better term. The world itself had seen countless battles between the Light and the Dark and that left a trace, something that he just couldn't find with his Arcane Hearing.

    Magic was just different, more natural. There were no artificial sources of Light or Darkness anywhere, no traces of their involvement at all. It was like having a constant thrum always at the back of his mind, suddenly being gone. Its absence was just so distracting, especially when he finally noticed it.

    Well fuck. How the hell was he supposed to get back now?

    There were barely any mentions of alternate dimensions, let alone parallel universes in his home, and he suspected he would find nothing to help here as well. The only way out of this mess was to figure out how to do it himself. That was easy. All he had to do was discover a new form of magic, one that was probably stronger than anything he had ever come up with, and he had to do that with barely any resources at his disposal.

    Harry always liked a challenge but that took the cake.

    Well, it wouldn't do to wallow in self-pity for no reason. He needed to quickly figure things out, and he would start by understanding what kind of world he was in. There should be a bookstore nearby, and recent issues of the Daily Prophet should be available there.

    When Rosmerta interrupted his thoughts once more, he already had the start of a plan in his head, "So, how was the food."

    "I liked it. I think I'm going to stay here a bit. Do you have any available rooms?"

    That seemed to be the right thing to say as the woman's smile grew even wider. Minutes later, they had agreed on a price and Harry finally had a room and a bed for the near future, until he could figure out more about what happened, of course.

    The next few days were relatively tame, all things considered. It was simply him just waking up in the Three Broomsticks, going to the bookstore and learning more about the world he was in. It hadn't taken too long to figure out that he was in the world from the stories, the ones he had read in his past life.

    Things had gone pretty much the same way. Quirrell had 'disappeared under mysterious circumstances' in 1992, and there was a series of petrifications in 1993, which ended with Lockhart accidentally erasing his own memories. Sirius Black had escaped that year as well, and dementors had come to Hogwarts. The former prisoner had escaped capture once more at Hogwarts in 1994, which was followed by the Quidditch World Cup final being attacked by Death Eaters and the Dark Mark being conjured, then the Tri-Wizard tournament, which ended in Cedric Diggory's death and Harry Potter loudly proclaiming that Lord Voldemort was back.

    It was exactly like the stories, down to every minute detail. At least, that gave him a pretty big advantage on how to handle himself. There were also a few differences in magic. They were less robust. In Harry's world, spell crafters needed to compensate for the traces of the Light and Dark all over the world, and so, had made spells slightly more controlled and ordered.

    The absence of Light and Dark scarring in this universe's magic meant that a few spells and potions crafted in this universe were simply different. It didn't need to be more robust and so, it made up for it with either efficiency or just more varied effects. It was noteworthy, but hardly the end of the world.

    He had already come up with the blueprints of a plan to get home. A broken prophecy had brought him to this place, and so, it was only logical that another one would bring him back. Luckily for him, he already knew of a true prophecy that he could manipulate.

    But first, he needed resources and a place to prepare. And he could achieve that through Hogwarts. It gave him access to everything he would need for his research as well as critical elements of the prophecy.

    It was funny, really. It all came down to this damned castle. As much as he saw this place as a second home, Harry had some of his worst memories in this place. Albus Dumbledore's attention in his place of power would have made anyone uncomfortable. Hopefully, while being under the radar, his experience would be pretty different.

    Harry sat down and started drafting a letter to Professor McGonagall. He explained that he had been homeschooled in magic by his mother, who had recently passed away. He needed to get his OWLs to obtain a permit to cast magic without breaking the Statute of Secrecy. It was a plausible story, and he hoped it would be enough to get him into Hogwarts without raising too many questions.

    After sending the letter, Harry spent the next few days waiting for a response. He was a bit anxious; he had backup plans, of course, but he needed the knowledge in the castle and to be close to his counterpart in this world to manipulate the prophecy to his ends.

    He stayed at the inn, trying to learn as much as he could about this new world while keeping a low profile. It was strange and disconcerting, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

    To his relief, a letter from McGonagall arrived quickly. She had agreed to meet him at the Three Broomsticks to discuss his situation. He was to wait for her there in a couple of days.

    This brought him to this situation, with him sitting at a table in the inn, and the transfiguration mistress looking at him with a neutral look on her face. She spoke up with a severe tone, "Harrold Smith?"

    Harry nodded, "That's me. You must be Professor McGonagall."

    She gave him a small and brief smile in return, "Good. Let's get right to business, Mr. Smith. Your situation is quite unusual and there is much that we need to do before confirming your enrolment in Hogwarts."

    Great; it seemed like he had his foot in the door and McGonagall was seriously considering his admission. Now, he only needed to smooth talk her into doing so, without putting her off with his frankly, pathetic social skills.

    Yeah, he had this in the bag.

    AN: I'll be completely honest, this chapter was pretty uneventful and it's for a reason. I wanted it to be an introduction to this little arc and considering what happened in the previous few chapters and how fast-paced they were, I thought I'd slow things down a bit while testing what you think of where things are headed in the next few chapters.

    Anyway, I thought it would be fun to give Harry trying to deal with Canon for a little while, but I don't know if you guys will like the idea or not. Just to reassure you, this arc will be relatively on the small side. So, we should be back to the original dimension soon.

    As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any recommendations for this arc.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • athassprkr said:
    Anyway, I thought it would be fun to give Harry trying to deal with Canon for a little while, but I don't know if you guys will like the idea or not. Just to reassure you, this arc will be relatively on the small side. So, we should be back to the original dimension soon.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Honestly, I like the idea. Maybe for once, Harry will get to be the top dog.
     
    Honestly this whole last arc has been supremely boring, like the fights are very cool, but the rest of it was 5/10. Honestly if Harry could do space/time magic on such a level as he showed last he should've whooped Lily's ass in that last fight.

    It just doesn't feel like Harry is taking things as seriously as he should be when he's in a fight with a proper opponent, and it also feels like he's not exploring magic as much as he used too, or maybe you're just not showing it as much which is sad.

    This new little arc should hopefully be much better than that last one though, I'm hoping for some good entertainment.
     
    Chapter 315: Feline Impressions
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 315: Feline Impressions

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    15th August 1995, Hogsmeade

    Minerva McGonagall was having a horrible summer. Other than the constant attempts at slandering her mentor and boss, she somehow had found herself with even more responsibilities than before, something that she never expected would have been possible.

    One would think that with Albus losing his positions as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, he would have had more time to focus on his responsibilities as Hogwarts' headmaster. However, that wasn't the case. If anything, it was the complete opposite. Albus chose to dedicate his time to lead the Order of the Phoenix, a very noble endeavour, but one that shouldn't have taken any time, especially since the Dark Lord still hadn't revealed himself, and there were no public attacks.

    There were a few missions here and there, but they shouldn't have necessitated the headmaster's full attention. She would have some choice of words for Albus when the semester began. Nevertheless, she essentially had the responsibilities of a professor and a headmistress, with none of the actual power to make any decisions herself. It was a pretty tricky situation to be in and she disliked it very much.

    She understood, really, the danger that Lord Voldemort presented. She had fought the monster before. It was like fighting an unstoppable creature, that never seemed to get tired, and regenerated most wounds in seconds. She could only imagine the rituals Tom Riddle had to partake in to become the monster that was Lord Voldemort.

    However, that didn't mean that Albus had to drop anything just to focus on fighting the man, especially as both sides were still recruiting. Albus' reluctance to face off against the ministry bemused her to no end. He certainly could get them to stop, or even offer proof of some kind, but Albus liked the deception, liked the idea of delaying the enemy's march as much as possible. She didn't know why, but she could guess that it had to do with that blasted prophecy.

    He was using Fudge's aggression, deciding to weather the storm that was his temper tantrum for some goal that he didn't share with anyone. He was very prone to hide things for some obscure plans. Hiding the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts was extremely unprofessional, and he hadn't told her until Harry Potter almost died that he wanted to use it as a lure to confirm whether the Dark Lord was still alive or not.

    During the affair with the Chamber of Secrets, he also refused to call on the DMLE to investigate and temporarily close the school. He was resolute in that, and after the fiasco was over, he had spent the entire summer studying the Diary that possessed poor Ginny Weasley. She didn't know what it was, but Albus had gotten what he wanted, even if it almost caused the death of students.

    It left Minerva in an awkward situation, running the school without any actual authority over it. This year was already off to a bad start with Dolores Umbridge of all people being appointed as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Dolores Umbridge, who she remembered being a horrid student, teaching Defence, whose OWL she had even failed.

    It was quite clever of the Minister to create a bill that would force Hogwarts Professors to have certifications in the field they would teach in to be hired. It wasn't a big deal for Transfiguration and Charms, since Masteries were available, but for classes like Defence, which did not have any actual certifications, they had created one themselves. Their certification had refused every applicant bar Dolores Umbridge, hence Albus being forced to hire her.

    She wasn't looking forward to working with the woman.

    Her musings were interrupted as she arrived in front of the entrance of the Three Broomsticks, where she was supposed to meet a potential new student. It was very unusual to have applications from older students, especially in fifth year, but it did happen occasionally. She still needed to vet the boy and make sure that he was not some Death Eater or Ministry plant that would hurt the students.

    She looked around and saw a brown-haired boy with hazel eyes sitting in the back. She walked towards him and asked, "Harrold Smith?"

    He smiled nervously back at her, "Yes. You must be Professor McGonagall."

    She gave him a small and brief smile in return, "Good. Let's get right to business, Mr. Smith. Your situation is quite unusual and there is much that we need to do before confirming your enrolment in Hogwarts."

    The boy gave her a slight smile, "Sure, what do you want to know?"

    "Can you tell me why you're applying to Hogwarts so late?"

    He simply shrugged in return, "It's not really something I wanted to do, to be completely honest. As I told you, my mother died a few months back and she was my primary magical teacher. I could have just continued self-studying but any magic I would cast would be detected as a use of Underage Magic. My mother teaching me wasn't a big deal since the ministry detected my magic as hers, but with her gone. The only way to lift the Trace is to apply for it at the ministry and I need my OWLS for that."

    "I'm sorry about your mother." Minerva simply stated.

    His eyes got cloudy for a few seconds before replying, "It wasn't anything unexpected. She was hit by a curse right after having me and it's been eating at her ever since. She held on as long as she could. But we both knew how it would have inevitably ended."

    Seeing the chagrined look on her face, Minerva decided to change the subject immediately and chose to focus on the other aspect of what he revealed. First was the fact that he had no official education in any field of magic, and she couldn't really evaluate what he was taught at home in a simple interview. The other was the fact that he had no plans on staying more than a year, something that truly bothered her.

    She made her opinion known, "Can I ask why you're not interested in pursuing your NEWTS afterwards? We do have a scholarship fund, and it could open a lot of doors for you if you perform well."

    The boy grabbed the back of his head nervously, "Umm, no offence, but I don't really like strict magical curriculum. If I could, I would have tried to apply for my OWLS now and be done with it. However, the ministry insists that I have to do it through Hogwarts."

    "Then how do you learn magic, then."

    He shrugged, "My mother's way of teaching magic was more individualized. She always said that learning magic should be a personal experience, a way to see the world that changes over time. Don't worry, I also learned the theory behind everything, but it was always secondary to how I connect to the world."

    Minerva suppressed the urge to groan. She always disliked these kinds, who didn't really take magical education seriously, and just learned by 'feel'. It was a movement that came and went throughout history until people realized that this method produced less effective wizards and witches and abandoned the culture.

    Still, she would give the boy a chance to prove himself. However, she doubted he could pass her tests, "Alright. Considering your source of education, it falls upon me to evaluate your competence as a wizard and see if you can enter Hogwarts as a fifth-year student."

    The entire process took over two hours. Minerva wouldn't say that she was a master in every field of magic like Albus was, but she could hold her own in most. Of course, she had no time to get him to brew potions or take care of a plant, but it was very easy to see that the boy's education exceeded that of a student of the same year at Hogwarts.

    She wouldn't say out loud that his knowledge in Charms, Enchanting, Arithmancy, and Runes, had probably surpassed her own. He was competent enough in potions and herbology, but she couldn't know for sure without a cauldron and a plant in front of him.

    However, it was transfiguration that fascinated her. The boy was very good at everything, apart from human transfiguration, which he refused to speak of. She had asked him, and he simply stated that he didn't trust himself not to mess up and that transfiguring another person could cause almost irreparable damage if done incorrectly. She did appreciate his caution. Minerva did have to catch more than a few reckless students trying to become animagi every year.

    Still, this performance far exceeded that of a fifteen-year-old boy, and she had her doubts. And so, while he was distracted, she had even snuck in a small age charm and found that the boy was fourteen years old. It was unlikely that he was a plant by the Death Eaters or the Ministry, but she would have to keep an eye on him.

    Afterwards, she couldn't help but ask him, "There's one final question I need to ask. Why come to Hogwarts now? You could have applied to another school in another country and be admitted, especially with the political tensions present in Britain."

    The boy snorted, "Look, did think about Beauxbatons. My mother and I stayed in France for a few years, and it was wonderful, but she always talked about the castle. I wanted to see what it was like at least once. And I don't really care about political nonsense. If Dumbledore is telling the truth or not doesn't matter one bit to me. If he's lying then it's not my problem. If the Dark Lord really is back, then he's not revealing himself, which means that I'm safe until he starts attacking. Either way, I'm not planning on staying for long. After I get my OWLS and certifications, I want to continue travelling a bit. I've been dying to go to Greece. I read so much about it."

    Minerva wasn't exactly convinced, "Your potential would be enough to make you a target, Mr. Smith."

    He grinned, "Look, I get that your whole Dark Lord thing is serious here, but outside of Britain, no one really cares about it. Believe me, they barely register that there's been a civil war here and there's a reason for it. Your fight is never going to spill past Britain, because if it does, the rest of Europe will get involved and it'll be over really quickly. That's a fact that everyone knows."

    Minerva gritted her teeth, "The war was no joke, Mr. Smith."

    "I never said it was. My point is just that if anyone wanted no parts in it, then there's a very easy solution and that's to move to another country until the mess is done with."

    "Some people like to fight for their homes," she protested.

    "And that's a noble thing. But the truth is that very few people are willing to fight and that's not a bad thing. I, for one, am not a fighter. Oh, I can defend myself, but I don't have the instinct for it."

    "So, you would run away and hide if your home was attacked."

    The boy simply shrugged, "If I was a less competent wizard, I would. Fear is a normal thing, it's an evolutionary reaction to danger, one that is probably why life still perseveres. It might be a mark of a coward to run away, but it's the wise course of action if the other choice is to die fighting."

    "So, you would have let people die in the last war?" The transfiguration mistress growled.

    He shook his head, "Of course not. No, I would have made a partnership with another school outside the country to admit Muggleborns and people who would have been targeted, diminishing the risk until the situation was dealt with. But I'm not qualified to do anything, am I? This is just me making theories."

    McGonagall turned pensive at that proposal. She disliked the way the boy just didn't want to fight but that was his decision. What she did not respect was the way he dismissed the war, as if it was some small event and not the terrifying period where she lost so many students.

    However, now that she had thought about it, the idea of partnering with another school technically had merit. If Lord Voldemort started to attack people once more, giving him fewer targets would be better in the long run. She wondered why she never thought of the idea.

    Nevertheless, she was not there to argue with the boy, "Alright, it's getting late. Congratulations, Mr. Smith on your admission to our prestigious institution. Expect an OWL with the official decision and your required materials. If you have any sort of financial difficulties, you could apply for a scholarship through the ministry. Unofficially, these are what you're going to need for the next year. I trust that you can buy them without any assistance."

    The boy took a relieved sigh before smiling, "Ah, yes. That shouldn't be a problem."

    She then continued, "If you do not have an official place of residence, we could sponsor you with a temporary home until you come to Hogwarts."

    It was a bit of a grey area for students orphaned without blood relations. It had started during the previous war, and it pained her how many of her students found themselves without any parents overnight.

    There hadn't been such a situation in over a decade, and she wasn't exactly sure it would have worked considering the straining relationship between the school and the ministry. However, Albus would probably have a member of the Order keep an eye on the boy.

    Mr. Smith simply shrugged, "Nah, I'm good. It's only a couple of weeks and I do have a few things to take care of first before starting school."

    "Like what exactly?"

    "Well, nothing really exciting. I'm just looking for a very old family ring."

    AN: I thought about skipping this chapter and going straight to Hogwarts and I started to write the chapter like that, but it just didn't feel right. There had to be something in between. I'm thinking about making more of this arc from other people's POV and wanted to know what you thought about that. Don't worry, the arc will be relatively short, and I don't plan to spend too much time on it. As usual, I'm also open to most suggestions for this arc. I can be a bit more flexible since it's somewhat self-contained.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Ha, I didn't even think about that in the last chapter. But this other reality has its own set of Deathly Hallows. And having two resurrection stones, even if they don't have the same functionality, would be a nice perk.

    I also wonder if Harry would be interested in the local time magic. The local version of time loops in the style of they happened because they happened should blow his mind. Maybe he could even create some kind of Grey Boy spell with it, considering something similar happened during the attack on the Ministry in canon.

    Also, if you're sticking to keeping this world canon, maybe the death archway in the Ministry would give Harry a boost to his interdimensional explorations.
     
    Chapter 316: Hero's Lament
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 316: Hero's Lament

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    1st September 1995, London

    The previous summer had to have been one of the worst ones ever since he received his Hogwarts letter four years prior. The way he had been treated reminded him of how everybody in Privet Drive turned on him just because of what the Dursleys said about him.

    It was hard to conceive the idea that the ministry was so antagonistic towards him. They hadn't really done any investigation on what happened in the third task, and he couldn't help but feel like Cedric deserved better than to be dismissed as some tragic accident by the ministry.

    That was what angered him the most. It would have been different to have people be on Voldemort's side. He expected it. But there was just something unforgiving about being so resolute in ignoring the situation, of refusing to even confirm anything Harry said. They were ready to simply ignore the death of a student, just because it made them feel better.

    He clenched his palm at the thought. Now was not the time to blow up. He was following Ginny, trying to find any empty compartment. So far, everything was nearly full. He hadn't really talked to Ginny much since what happened in the Chamber. For some reason, she got awfully shy around him and barely spoke. However, with both Ron and Hermione being forced to go to the Prefect compartment and him being Magical Britain's newest pariah due to the Daily Prophet, he had a hard time finding one.

    In the very last carriage, they found Neville Longbottom clenching Trevor, his pet toad, and trying to clumsily carry his trunk as well, "Harry, Ginny. I'm glad that I'm not the only one who couldn't find a compartment."

    Ginny answered him, "Why don't we just stay here? It's only Luna and some sleeping bloke there. I don't think they'll mind much."

    "I didn't want to bother them," Neville protested.

    "Ah, nonsense," the redhead interrupted him, "Here. Let's go."

    She opened the compartment door and spoke up, "Hey Luna. Do you mind if we sit down with you?"

    In times like this, Harry really regretted not expanding his social circle further. He had never really noticed the girl before. Luna was a blonde with a dreamy look in her silver eyes. She absentmindedly answered Ginny's question, "Of course."

    They all stowed their trunks and sat down in front of them. When they sat down, he noticed that Luna was reading a magazine called The Quibbler upside down. He just shrugged; he wasn't in the mood to really ask her about it.

    Ginny then asked her, motioning towards the sleeping wizard, "Who is he?"

    The blonde girl simply shrugged, "I don't know. I found him asleep when I got here. He seems nice though..."

    Honestly, Harry didn't know how someone who was asleep could seem nice or how this Luna girl could have found out about it. But from the fond expression on the redhead's face, it wasn't exactly something unusual...

    Ultimately, the conversation somehow evolved into Neville bragging about this weird plant that his grandmother got him for his birthday. Of course, he ended up covering the entire compartment into pus – which was weirdly not the first time that Neville did that – causing them to have to clean up.

    Unfortunately, the smell or the loud noise seemed to have woken up the sleeping boy from before. For the first time, Harry could easily see him properly. He was wearing a muggle outfit, some jeans and a leather jacket. He had brown hair, and hazel eyes, and also wore glasses.

    The boy huffed, waved his wand, and the pus disappeared. He turned towards the embarrassed-looking Neville, "Please don't do that again."

    "I'm sorry," Neville replied.

    The boy simply grunted and prepared to get back to sleep. Before he did, Ginny seemed to have wanted to speak with him, "I've never seen you in Hogwarts before."

    He nodded in response, "And I've never seen you in Hogwarts as well."

    "You're a student here?"

    "No, I'm the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

    Harry didn't know if the wizard was being sarcastic or not. Everyone else was of the same opinion. After a few seconds, the boy groaned once more, "Seriously? I look like a teenager and I'm saying that I'm your new professor and you don't really care."

    Harry grabbed the back of his head, embarrassed, "Sorry."

    "Don't worry, that says more about the school than about you. My name is Harrod Smith and I'm a new student here. I'll be transferring into fifth year here."

    "I didn't know you could transfer between schools," Neville commented, "Where were you taught before?"

    "I was home-schooled."

    No one said anything for a few seconds until Harrold groaned, "Seriously, what's with you all? This is the part where you introduce yourselves."

    Oh, right. Harry wasn't really used to doing that. Everyone kinda knew it was him. Still, Ginny took the initiative and introduced herself, followed by Neville, and then Harry. The boy, Smith, barely reacted to his name other than raising his eyebrow faintly for a fraction of a second. That already made him alright in Harry's books.

    Luna, though, seemed to have a different idea altogether, "You're not from around here, are you?"

    Harrold's polite smile turned into a smirk, "You're a very observant girl, Luna Lovegood."

    "I never told you my name," she replied.

    "You're not the only one who's observant."

    For some reason, the girl seemed more animated than she had since Harry entered the compartment. However, that seemed all Harrold had to say on the matter since he went back to sleep afterwards. Ron and Hermione ended up returning after at least an hour. Harry had bought everyone snacks from the trolley lady, even a few extra for Harrold, who seemed determined to continue sleeping.

    After eating his fill, Ron asked, "Who's the bloke?"

    "Harrold Smith," Harry answered, "A new student. Not really a talker, to be honest."

    "He's pretty big for a first year," the redhead commented.

    His sister hit him in the head, "Of course, he's not a first-year you idiot. He's transferring in. He'll be in your year. Apparently, he was home-schooled."

    Hermione seemed to have taken that personally, "Home-schooled? That's absolutely dreadful. Why not just go to Hogwarts? It's the best school in Europe, isn't it?"

    Surprisingly, it was Neville who answered her, "It's uncommon nowadays, but it used to be a normal thing in the past. If a family is secretive or something, they can refuse to send their kids to Hogwarts. And before Dumbledore started the Hogwarts scholarship fund, a few people just couldn't afford to pay for the school's tuition. Now, I think most people who don't come to Hogwarts, either have a dangerous magical gift or a family that's pretty traditional. The ministry has tried to stop this by making OWLS a requirement for a lot of jobs."

    Ron groaned, "Great. So, it's either a ticking time bomb or a future Death Eater. What a joy!"

    Hermione hit him in the shoulder, "Hey, you haven't even spoken to him."

    "I call it like I see it."

    Hermione was about to say something but the door to the compartment opened once more, and Harry gritted his teeth at the sight of a smirking Draco Malfoy. Instead, he growled out, "What is it Malfoy?"

    "Nothing much Potter, I was just patrolling. I'm allowed to do that, since, you know, I'm a prefect. You wouldn't really know about it, I guess. I have to say that it's refreshing to see how Weasley was chosen over you. I wonder how it feels to be Dumbledore's second choice. Are you even that? Maybe he'd have even chosen Longbottom over you."

    Harry controlled his temper once more, "At least Ron earned his spot. Can you say the same? I know Snape is close to your father. How much did he have to pay to get you your position? I wonder if one day you'll be able to actually achieve something meaningful with your life without Daddy behind you."

    Immediately, Malfoy raised his wand, and Crabbe and Goyle followed behind him. Harry and his friends did the same. Right as he thought the first spell was about to be fired, a voice interjected, "Come on, people. I'm trying to sleep here."

    A grumpy Harrold Smith was looking at them with annoyance and Malfoy blurted out, "Who even are you?"

    "Someone who is trying to have a nap in peace. Could you, like, wait until we get to the castle before sending spells at each other? All this fighting is so troublesome."

    Malfoy didn't seem to like that response, "You should be careful how you speak to me. My name is Draco Malfoy."

    Smith interrupted him, "And let me guess, your father is a very important man or something. Look, I've done this song and dance a hundred times and I'm not in the mood to give you lessons in manners. Can you just go and try to keep a lid on your obsession with Potter?"

    "I am not obsessed with Potter," the blond boy snarled.

    "Sure, you aren't," Smith retorted with a patronizing tone, "You came all this way without any other reason than to speak with him. That sounds like an obsession to me."

    "When my father." he replied, but Smith interrupted him, "Again with the whole father thing. You really need to get a grip on this thing... You'll eventually have to grow up, you know, and I don't think it will look good if you throw your father's name around when you're in your twenties. No one would really take you seriously if you did that. Now, can you go in peace, please? You can go stalk Potter or whatever when we're in the castle, and to be honest, the compartment is getting cramped."

    Smith closed his eyes, but Malfoy wasn't done, "You'll regret this. People tend to die when they stick around Potter. You know what happened to poor Cedric Diggory. I still remember the way his parents screamed when they saw his body."

    That took everyone in the compartment aback. They all knew that Malfoy was a prick, but even he had never stooped so low as to mock someone else's death. To be fair, he did make fun of the fact that Harry was an orphan, which was already pretty distasteful.

    But this made Harry's blood boil. He was about to cast a curse until Smith gave him a weird look, "Did you say something? I was distracted by remembering this wonderful dream I was having. I was lying down in a beautiful field and watched the clouds."

    That seemed to distract Malfoy, "You dream about watching clouds?"

    "Oh, it's such a fascinating hobby. One that a truly enlightened mind could understand."

    Harry had to admit that it was funny seeing Malfoy being so out of sorts. During most confrontations between them, the Slytherin always ended up with the upper hand. It was very nice to see the tables being turned.

    The blond boy seemed outraged, "Are you calling me stupid?"

    "Oh, nothing of the sort. I just said that you were not someone with the wisdom to appreciate the art of cloudwatching."

    Malfoy motioned to move his wand and Smith gave him a bored look, "Now, now. I know that I might have hurt your feelings, and there's no reason to do anything rash."

    "Tell me why I shouldn't hex you to pieces right now?" he growled.

    "Well, I could keep droning on and on about the rules and you breaking them. I could talk about how it would dishonour your father. But I think I'm going to stick to the person standing behind you."

    Malfoy instinctively turned, "Who?"

    Harrold seemed to grasp the opportunity to cast a spell that shoved them out of the compartment and locked it with a swish of his wand. He could hear Malfoy screaming and hitting the door repeatedly until the noise disappeared with another swish of Smith's wand.

    Ginny was the first to speak up, "That was amazing."

    "It's nothing really. When you deal with a spoiled brat, you deal with all of them. Damn, reality is going to hit that guy very hard."

    Harry couldn't help but be curious, "What do you mean by that?"

    "Nothing much, just that he's obviously pretty sheltered and has an inferiority complex. It's pretty common with people who have high-achieving parents. The problem is that one day, he'll have to face the world himself, without his father there to help him, and that will be an experience that will mark the man he will become in the future."

    Harry spoke up, "His father is a pretty powerful man. He's also one of Voldemort's main supporters."

    The boy who lived suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as everyone flinched at the name. Everyone except for Smith, that is. That was another point in his favour.

    Smith simply shrugged, "Meh, don't really care."

    "You're not scared of you-know-who?" Ron asked incredulously.

    "Meh, anyone who has a fake name that says they're afraid of death isn't worth being scared of. It's such a silly name, really. He probably came up with it when he was a moody teenager and chose to stick with it."

    Harry didn't know what to say about that. Thankfully, Hermione changed the subject, "That was wordless magic, right?"

    That seemed to surprise Smith slightly, "Yeah. What about it?"

    "It's a pretty advanced subject, isn't it? We're not even taking it this year and it's our OWL year."

    "Meh, it's not that hard, really. From what I hear, it's different for every person, but I just always did it. I was taught to cast every spell without saying the incantation every time. You get used to it after the first few times."

    Hermione practically perked up at that, "That's fascinating. I never really expected how much the method of education could change the competence of the wizard or witch. Are there any other things that you can do differently?"

    "How should I know? I don't really have anything to compare it to. The recommended schoolbooks are a bit too varied and cover a lot of material, far more than a single school year should. Not that they're all good. Really, the Defence book was one of the worst reads I've ever had. I'm not really optimistic for that class, to be honest. At least it's a good way to make sure to fall asleep. It's very effective. Just thinking about it just makes me want to doze off."

    The muggleborn obviously wanted to press matters, but Smith just yawned, grunted, and fell asleep again. Hermione just looked outraged by his behaviour. It was honestly pretty funny to see her so riled up.

    He expected that little exchange to happen many times when they got to Hogwarts. At least that was something to look up to. Smith was just so laid back and relaxed that he would automatically clash with most professors who were passionate about their subjects. He imagined the boy napping in McGonagall's classroom. Or even worse, Snape's. Now that was an amusing thought. He'd probably be the first person to love Binn's classes, though.

    Still, having a nap wasn't really a bad idea. When Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep, he dreamt of snakes and a weirdly familiar black corridor.

    AN: Now that's Harry's introduction to the trio... I was kinda rushed when I wrote this but I hope I did an alright job. Still, I'd still appreciate your feedback on it. I'm also excited to finally have a proper Harry Umbridge interaction... I don't think Umbridge becoming a professor is likely to happen in his home universe, so I'm excited to write the interactions between them. Also please let me know if you have any suggestions in the future.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • God I am so excited for this arc. SI!Harry isn't going to take anyone in this universe seriously. So much sassy.
     
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    Chapter 317: A Lesson in Manners
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 317: A Lesson in Manners

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    AN: Just in case you get confused, this chapter is from the original Harry's POV (Earth 1), not Canon Harry. Just wanted to point that out since I said before that I was sticking to 3rd person POV, but I realized that I couldn't do that in this one.

    1st September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

    Harry sighed deeply as he finally sad down in his new dormitory. Ever since he had been displaced from his universe thanks to Lily's crap, he had been planning his return. That was why he decided to come to Hogwarts in the first place. It was a nexus of magical energy and held tomes old enough to maybe even glimpse something to help with his situation. So far, all he had done was research what had happened to him.

    He was making a surprising amount of headway in that regard. His Arcane Hearing was activated during the incident underneath Durmstrang, and he had heard a good part of what had happened. Now, he only needed to reproduce it while being as consistent as possible. Which meant translating what happened into some kind of arithmancy formula, and crafting a ritual or a spell to mimic it.

    The ingredients were simple enough. A broken prophecy, a singularity in space and time, and the dark energy released from his family crest. And, of course, a fuck-ton of energy.

    Yeah, things were progressing but not as quickly as he would have liked. Who knew that finding a way to travel between universes would be so difficult?

    To be perfectly honest, he had pulled an all-nighter just before going to Hogwarts, trying to get as much done before being subjected to teen drama once more. Harry had done his best to cultivate a bit of a no-nonsense reputation back in his school, but unfortunately, it didn't follow him here.

    When he had taken a nap in one of the empty compartments, he had been surprised to wake up at the sight of his counterpart and a shy Neville Longbottom. It was pretty jarring seeing the confident tone wilt with every look Harry gave him. His counterpart wasn't really all that better, just filled with anger, resentment, and frustration.

    To be fair, he had just seen Diggory get killed and then spent months without any form of support.

    But Harry couldn't help but curse his luck. Why did it have to be them?

    He had planned on being relatively close to the boy, because of the prophecy and everything, and the fact that he still had that scar on his forehead. That was the Horcrux he had no idea how to get out, aside from, of course, getting the boy hit with a killing curse by Voldemort. It had worked for the stories, somehow.

    Anyway, he had begun to regret slightly his decision to come to Hogwarts. He had to be sorted in front of everyone. At least, they sorted him before the first years. That would have been pretty embarrassing.

    He had chosen to go to Gryffindor. Well, he cast a small compulsion for the hat to yell 'Gryffindor' while using the cloak to hide himself from it. The hat never really knew that he was on anyone's head.

    It was a nice tricky use of an aspect of the cloak, one that he explored after Daphne told him about Lily's adaptation of the Veela's allure as a compulsion charm. Magic simply could not find his mind, using the same way that it couldn't detect him when he walked through wards.

    After all, he couldn't have the Sorting Hat blabbing to people about his true nature, especially not Dumbledore.

    This was what brought him to the Gryffindor common room, and his current regret to choosing this house. He was sitting in one of the chairs, writing in his journals, trying to progress even further with his calculations.

    This was very hard to do because of the yelling match between his counterpart and Seamus Finnigan. He released a deep breath and just cast a silencing charm, which made the yelling disappear. He conjured a bit of music to calm himself down and continued working.

    It seemed to have worked for a little while until Hermione Granger decided to break the charm. Harry winced at the sudden rise of noise and gave her an annoyed look, "What is it?"

    "You're not allowed to cast privacy charms in the common room," she replied with a superior look.

    Harry simply rolled his eyes, "You're also not allowed to yell at each other. I don't see you harassing Potter."

    "Ron calmed them down," the muggleborn continued, "Harry has been having a bit of a temper ever since the Daily Prophet started calling him a liar."

    "Meh, this rag would print anything, really. I haven't really read it to get any news for a while."

    "So, you believe Harry then?" she asked with a hopeful tone.

    "I don't really care one way or the other. After this year, I'm leaving the country anyway. You-Know-Who never really left Britain, so whether he's back or not is kinda irrelevant."

    She obviously wanted to say something but stopped herself. She was about to leave, until she, unfortunately, took a small peak at what he was writing in his journal, "Oh, is that arithmancy? It looks pretty advanced."

    "It is pretty advanced and also private."

    "Oh, come on. I could help you. I'm in first place in arithmancy and it's my favourite class. Even if the homework is a bit much. It would be a very nice training exercise before we go to class tomorrow."

    "I'm not registered for arithmancy, Hermione."

    That seemed to stun the muggleborn, and she gave him an outraged look, "Why not?"

    "Because I don't need to. I'm here because I need to be registered at Hogwarts to apply for my OWLS. And I only need an OWL in charms, transfiguration, and defence against the dark arts, to be able to apply for a license to practice magic before being seventeen. I only have to attend my core classes, nothing more."

    "You're not staying past your OWLS?"

    Harry shrugged, "I'm not planning on it."

    "But you could learn so much, Harrold, and become a better wizard if you take your electives."

    "Honestly, Hermoine, I don't think I can really learn any arithmancy from your year. No offence, but I'm a little more advanced than you are."

    The muggleborn wouldn't be sated, "I'm telling McGonagall. She's bound to set you straight."

    "And I'll tell her that I'm already struggling with my courseload and that the big bad prefect Hermione Granger, wants to force more work on me. Now that wouldn't be a good look, would it? She might even take your badge."

    She grabbed her prefect badge as if it would disappear before glaring at him, "This isn't over!" and walked away.

    Harry snorted. Hermione Granger was really the same in both dimensions. At least, this would have been what he imagined she would have been like if the Diary fiasco didn't happen. Deciding that he didn't want to get up to the dormitory to hear another spat between his counterpart and Finnigan, he activated the cloak and phased out of the Fat Lady's portrait.

    His destination was a pretty obvious one. He needed the prophecy to be broken and he could do it in two obvious ways. Either he killed Voldemort, or he killed his counterpart, and he leaned more towards killing the mass-murdering psychopath than the angsty teen.

    That meant killing Voldemort, and to do so, he needed to destroy the Horcrux. He already destroyed the ring during the summer. It was simply enough sneaking in and destroying it with the Basilisk fang he still carried on him since his departure from Hogwarts in his home dimension. He never really bothered to put it back after destroying the Cup of Hufflepuff, something that he was thankful for now.

    Still, in this case, he recast the curse on the ring and added a small illusion to make anyone think that it was still a Horcrux. It could still be useful in some other way. And it wasn't like he needed it; he still had one of his own.

    Now, in terms of Horcruxes, the Diary and the Ring were gone. The Diadem would be before the next day. There were only four left, the locket, the cup, Nagini, and his counterpart's scar.

    Funnily enough, the Horcrux in Gringotts was the least guarded of them. The locket was under Fidelius Charm, Nagini was always at Voldemort's side, and the scar kinda belonged to an innocent guy who was constantly under Dumbledore's surveillance.

    His train of thought was broken when he arrived at the Room of Requirements. He released his cloak's power to allow the room to see him and walked three times, asking for the Room of Hidden Things.

    It had taken less than fifteen minutes in total to find a diadem and destroy it with his Basilisk fang. Sure, there was a loud scream and a discharge of magic, but they were easily contained.

    Harry honestly had no idea why anyone would ever create those things. Sure, no one else had his Arcane Hearing and couldn't hear how horrifying it was. But there was still a sense of wrongness emanating from the artefact.

    Anyway, Harry returned back in the dormitory, having disappeared for around thirty minutes at most, which he used to destroy one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

    No one had even noticed that he was gone.

    When he had gotten back to the dormitory, Finnigan and his counterpart were still fighting, and Harry just cast another privacy charm to finally fall asleep.

    Harry awoke when the sun rose. He was always an early riser and went to have his breakfast. He hadn't gotten out of the common room until his counterpart interrupted him, "Hey, Harrold!"

    He turned towards him, "Yeah?"

    "McGonagall asked me to show you around since Ron and Hermione are busy with the first years. She also told me that we shouldn't have any classes until noon, so we could take our time. I think our first class is Defence with that Umbridge woman. We'll get our timetables later. You're pretty lucky; I don't think anyone in the castle bar Dumbledore and the Weasley Twins knows the castle as well as I do. First, I'm going to give you a small tour of our classrooms and then we'll move on from there."

    And so began Harry's torture at the hand of his counterpart. To be honest, Harry wasn't exactly being fair; it was hard to make a tour of the castle interesting to someone who studied there for three years. He didn't really count the fourth since he was in foreign schools for the tournament during that time.

    Still, his counterpart was weirdly excited about the tour, which was really weird. Harry just kept humming and nodding at everything, wanting to get everything over with as quickly as possible.

    It was when they got to the dungeons that he was asked, "You believe me, right? About Voldemort."

    "Well, you do have a bit of evidence supporting you, like the ministry not handling the investigation into Diggory's death properly, and the fact that you were obviously injured during the third task. There's also the fact that no body was found when he attacked your home. You could be telling the truth, or you could be lying. In the end, it doesn't really matter, at least not anytime soon that is."

    "How could that not matter? Voldemort is back. There's going to be a war."

    Harry simply shrugged, unperturbed by the boy's rising temper, "There are always wars. But I didn't say that it wouldn't matter in the long run, just not in the next year. If the Dark Lord is back, then his hiding is his strongest weapon yet. He needs to strengthen his numbers again and that takes time. He'll want to prepare a decapitation strike and try to take out all of his opposition at once. That kind of thing would require at least two to three years and even then, he'll need to break out his most talented followers from Azkaban first. No one really wants it to be known. The ministry wants to wallow in a comfortable lie and the Dark Lord wants to have no issues recruiting his new army. You need to stop looking at it like a fight and think of things from a logistics standpoint. It's how you'll understand everyone's moves and motives."

    Harry's counterpart didn't really have any time to react as a loud annoying voice interrupted him, "Oh, Potty, Potty. What are you doing in the dungeons so early in the morning? Are you spying on us?"

    "Fuck off, ferret boy," the boy simply retorted.

    The blond boy was standing surrounded by what seemed to be the Slytherin Quidditch team, Crabbe and Goyle. Other than their intimidating stature, they weren't exactly threats, magically speaking.

    "Now you're just being rude here, Potty. After all, you're the one trying to sneak into our common room. That means we can defend ourselves, can't we?"

    "We're not anywhere near your common room!" he exclaimed.

    "Now, now, only someone who tried to break into our common room would know where it is. This is just us defending ourselves, right?"

    Deciding that enough was enough, Harry raised his hand, "Now, now. I know you're all pretty excited to see Potter here and probably have some kind of justified vendetta against him. Unfortunately for you gentlemen, we're on a bit of a tour of the castle here. So, can you wait until we're done before continuing your little spat? It would be greatly appreciated."

    That seemed to have stunned everyone. Both Malfoy and his counterpart were staring at him as he suddenly grew a second head. Marcus Flint, just growled at him, "You should go."

    His counterpart nodded, "You really should. They're already being nice since they didn't just attack you too, especially after you embarrassed Malfoy on the Express."

    Harry rolled his eyes and prepared to leave the corridor. That was, of course, until Malfoy spoke up, "Yeah don't worry, you can have Potter back for your little orphan club in no time. He'll be alright after a little time in the hospital room, probably. Not that anyone will care if something did happen. No one will miss him. or you for that matter. Must be so difficult to be all alone in the world."

    He was right at the door when the blond boy said that. He rolled his eyes. Seriously making fun of an orphan? It was just so sad.

    Giant wooden doors suddenly materialized at each end of the corridor and slammed shut, trapping them all inside. Harry spoke without facing them, "Manners maketh man."

    "Do you know what it means?" he asked after turning.

    They looked at him, their wands raised, confused, and he smirked at them, "Then let me teach you a lesson."

    AN: I had a bit of fun on that one, especially near the end, and I'm excited to write the confrontation properly, and the next DADA lesson with Umbridge... I wanted this chapter to act as an update on what Harry achieved so far and a bit about his plan, and I hope it achieved that. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 318: A Change in Perspective
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 318: A Change in Perspective

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    2nd September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

    Harry Potter didn't know what he expected when McGonagall asked him to show the new guy around. He couldn't admit that he found him interesting; his actions during the Hogwarts Express were more than enough to make him good in Harry's books. Hermione also saying that he was a brilliant wizard probably helped a bit.

    However, as they spoke to each other during their tour, Harry realized just how much of an understatement that was. For one thing, Smith didn't seem to care about Harry being the boy who lived… Normally, he was met with reactions of either awe or disdain – most recently, the disdain was far more common than he liked – but not Smith… He just… didn't care.

    Even Ron and Hermione were awed to meet him in their first year. There was always some kind of expectation there, one that was absent when he looked into Smith's eyes and that fascinated Harry to no end…

    It hadn't taken long to realize just how perceptive and knowledgeable Smith was about practically everything. It was different from Hermione somehow, and Harry found himself listening to him more. Maybe it was because he was surprisingly insightful about the situation…

    Harry knew from his friend that the boy had no plans on staying past his OWLS, and literally had no opinions on the coming war. He tried to understand it from a tactical standpoint instead of the battles. All in all, Smith looked to be some kind of scholar and adventurer, two contradicting roles that he had only seen in one other person, Bill Weasley… Harry couldn't help but think that they would have gotten along well enough.

    Of course, in a typical manner, Draco Malfoy and his Slytherin cronies decided to ruin things by attacking them for 'being too close to their dormitory'. Thankfully, Harrold was given the chance to leave first before their fight… It was pretty likely that a few of them would have ended up in the infirmary… That would have been a poor introduction to Hogwarts for any newcomer.

    Harry prepared himself to fight an overwhelming number of attackers at once as Smith walked away. Unfortunately, Malfoy decided to get the last words in, "Yeah don't worry, you can have Potter back for your little orphan club in no time. He'll be alright after a little time in the hospital room, probably… Not that anyone will care if something did happen. No one will miss him… or you for that matter. Must be so difficult to be all alone in the world…"

    His blood froze at the proclamation. He didn't know that Smith was an orphan too. How did Malfoy even know that? His father, probably… Or maybe Death Eater spies…

    Smith froze right as Malfoy finished speaking and suddenly, wooden doors closed at both ends of the corridor… Harry was pretty sure there weren't supposed to be wooden doors. He heard Smith speak up, "Manners maketh man…"

    He turned and gave them all a questioning look, "Do you know what that means?"

    Harry didn't know what that meant and from the looks of it, neither did Draco and his cronies. However, a smug small smile grew on his face, "Then let me teach you a lesson…"

    Flint was the first one to break and cast a hex at Smith, who had his wand ready and batted the spell back with the speed of a bulger… The spell returned back far faster than Flint could react, and he found himself thrown back with boils growing all over his face.

    All of this happened in a fraction of a second and everyone, including Harry, was just gaping at the unconcerned boy. He just gave them a sly look and asked, "Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to fight?"

    The Slytherins just turned towards him with obvious anger in their eyes. Malfoy was the one who started casting this time, and the others followed his lead. Smith, once more, batted the spells towards other spells, creating explosions when they met each other, hiding him from the others.

    When Montague wanted to follow up with another spell, Harry noticed his hand being pushed by an invisible force right as his spell was about to be fired. The movement caused the spell to misfire and hit Warrington instead. Malfoy turned to him in surprise, only to be caught with another spell, making him grow horns on his head, from Adrian Pucey.

    Harry would have been smiling, if it wasn't for the sheer incredulity he felt at what was happening. Especially as the dust settled and Smith was just standing there looking unimpressed.

    That seemed to anger Crabbe and Goyle even further since they ran at him to punch him physically. It was all they probably knew in terms of combat anyway…

    For some reason, Smith didn't seem bothered and when Crabbe was about the punch him, he leaned back and conjured some kind of weird wooden hook that grabbed his hand and redirected it to hit Goyle in the face. He then quickly batted away an incoming spell towards the Goyle, sending him flying back towards his comrades, and he put Crabbe in front of him, turning him into some kind of human shield that was hit with three other spells at once…

    Smith casually let Crabbe fall to the side and gave the remaining people a smug grin. Only Malfoy, Flint, and Warrington were still up, and they were glaring at him as if they wanted him to spontaneously combust into flames. Flint seemed to have had enough and sent a sickly purple spell at him which he batted back once more, only for the trio to dodge this time.

    They gave him a smug look only to freeze as Warrington fell down, unconscious… The spell had somehow rebounded off the wooden door that Smith had conjured at the start of the fight and hit him in the back.

    Flint cast a weird yellow curse that Harry had never seen before, while Malfoy cast a cutting curse. This time, Smith actually shielded himself and the cutting curse rebounded back, hitting the yellow curse which was split in half and also rebounded back at the casters.

    Whatever that curse was made Malfoy and Flint conjure shields of their own, which broke and knocked them back a bit… The blond boy was about the cast another spell, only for his hand to twitch and hit his last ally with it. The older boy froze, petrified by the spell, and fell to the ground…

    Smith walked slowly towards Malfoy who kept desperately casting one spell after another at him. Every single spell was countered effortlessly, redirected towards the walls. Malfoy must have gotten desperate since he cast some pretty silly jinxes in the middle too for some reason.

    The new student was barely a few feet in front of Malfoy when he redirected one last spell that turned his arms and legs to collapse as if they were turned into jelly. Seriously, that was a first-year spell and Malfoy cast this spell at a clearly stronger opponent… What was he thinking?

    For a fraction of a second, Harry imagined hitting Voldemort with this spell. Now, that would have been hilarious…

    The Slytherin looked at Smith with a scared look on his face. The new student just raised an eyebrow, "From my estimation, the spell should fade in ten minutes… That's more than enough time for you to get your friends to the Hospital Wing… So, that means you shouldn't have any trouble coming to our next class. It was a pleasure to meet you, Draco Malfoy…"

    "You'll regret this…" the pureblood retorted.

    "I don't think so… After all, if you do talk to anyone, you'll have to tell them that I beat you while you had me heavily outnumbered, and without me, I even cast a single spell… That wouldn't be such a good look on you, would it?"

    Merlin's beard! Now that Harry thought about it, other than conjuring the wooden doors and the wooden hook thing, that weird hand twitch spell, and the shield he conjured near the end, Smith hadn't even cast a single spell. None of them were actually offensive spells even…

    With that said Smith turned towards Harry and brightened, "Oh, right. Shall we continue with the tour?"

    Harry absentmindedly nodded and walked alongside Smith, still stunned to silence. As he walked away, he noticed that the wooden doors that Smith conjured, had disappeared while he wasn't looking. It took around five minutes of silence before he exclaimed, "How did you do that?"

    Smith gave him a weird look, "Do what?"

    "You're kidding, right?"

    Smith snorted, "Yeah, I am. It was nothing, really. Just stretching a bit…"

    "You beat them with their own spells. You even made it look easy…" Harry spoke up with an admiring tone.

    "In a fight, having more people isn't always a good thing. I'd have had more trouble against three duellers that know how to fight alongside each other, than twenty that have never fought together before. This is a bit of an extreme example, but in a real fight, they would have tried to shield each other, maybe even have a formation and try to trap me…"

    "This was amazing… Maybe if everyone could fight like you, we'd have a chance against Voldemort!"

    Smith didn't seem very enthused by the idea, "Too bad I'm not getting involved in any fight in Britain…"

    That perplexed Harry to no end, "I don't understand… You hurt the children of his Death Eaters. Voldemort will go after you whether you like it or not."

    However, the new student simply snorted, "If he had revealed himself, then maybe yes. He'd have had to put boundaries and show that his followers couldn't be messed with. However, he's hiding, and there's a good reason for it. No single wizard, no matter how powerful, could conquer an entire country by themselves. It doesn't matter if he's back or not if he doesn't get his forces back. You have to understand that the Dark Lord spent years before the first war, gathering followers, building an army, and gaining influence through them… He doesn't have that now, not even a bit, and it'll take time and secrecy to achieve that…"

    "So, you admit that he's back then?" Harry replied with a victorious look.

    "No, all I'm saying is that the fact that a lot of gold was spent to discredit you as much as possible, gold that could be traced back to the victims of the Imperius Curse in the first war, even if it's Fudge spending it… They don't want you talking because you obviously weren't meant to have survived the third task. Imagine if you had actually died that night, and Diggory hadn't grabbed the cup. Then you would have simply disappeared, never to be seen again. Dumbledore would have probably proclaimed that the Dark Lord was back and shut down immediately since he would have no proof. Years later, the Dark Lord would have returned, with an army at his back, and political influence in the ministry. He would have been in a far better position… Your survival and the fact that you told Dumbledore everything, ruined a good portion of it. Now, he has to hurry and regrow his forces before the ministry finds out about him and declares a state of emergency."

    "Why would that help?"

    Smith groaned, "Most of his recruits come from outside the country. There aren't really a lot of werewolves, giants, and vampires in Britain because of the pretty severe laws here. Even his followers in Britain fled the country to avoid Azkaban, and it took time to call them back. Britain declared a state of emergency would get its neighbouring countries to impose more strict measures against travel to Britain, pretty much freezing the Dark Lord's recruitment efforts and forcing him to commit with the forces he had. I don't see that happening though…"

    Harry gave him a confused look, "Why is that?"

    "Because Fudge's campaign relies pretty heavily on Lucius Malfoy's donations. With an election coming next year, he can't afford to antagonize the man too much, and he also can't afford to have a crisis on his hands… He made his bet that you're lying, because either way he'd be removed from office; he knows that he's a peace minister, not a wartime one. He won't go back on any of his decisions short of a proper attack with the Dark Lord at the helm, something that is irrefutable and that the entire world would see…"

    "I can't just do nothing."

    Smith rolled his eyes, "You already did enough by surviving the third task. Yelling at everyone about the Prophet lying will achieve nothing. You can't convince them because they won't be without the ministry making a statement and that will not happen without Fudge basically throwing his career away… Malfoy attacking you like he did, in broad daylight is already proof that they want you to look unstable. Umbridge will be firmly on his side and will continue to make life different for you. She will bait you during class, and try to subtly discredit you. And if you let it get to you, you will be playing right into her hands…"

    "What am I supposed to do, then?"

    "Why you need to finish the tour, of course… I'm starving and we still haven't had breakfast yet."

    AN: I hope you liked this chapter. I've been having a lot of fun writing this arc tbh. The Umbridge first class should be in the next chapter and I'm so excited. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • athassprkr said:
    also rebounded back at the casters.
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    This is stated wrong. This would include Harry Smith being hit as well with how you stated it.

    athassprkr said:
    bulger
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    Budger
    athassprkr said:
    was about the punch him
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    swung at Smith
    athassprkr said:
    some kind of weird wooden hook
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    An odd wooden hook
    athassprkr said:
    turning him into some kind of human shield
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    Using him as a human shield
    athassprkr said:
    was hit with three other spells at once…
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    Absorbing three spells simultaneously
    athassprkr said:
    That seemed to anger Crabbe and Goyle even further since they ran at him to punch him physically. It was all they probably knew in terms of combat anyway…
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    Incensed, Crabbe and Goyle charged with their fists raised. It was probably the only thing their dim minds could think to do.

    athassprkr said:
    heavily outnumbered, and without me, I even cast a single spell…
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    Heavily outnumbered and without me casting a single offensive spell.
    athassprkr said:
    and it took time to call them back
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    It will take time to call them back
    athassprkr said:
    Britain declared a state of emergency would get its neighbouring countries to impose more strict measures against travel to Britain,
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    If Britain declared a state of emergency, it's neighbors will impose strict measures on travel to Britain
    athassprkr said:
    forcing him to commit with the forces he had
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    Forcing Voldemort to commit with whatever forces he has at hand.

    You're having trouble with past and present tenses
     
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    Chapter 319: A Toad's Misgivings
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 319: A Toad's Misgivings

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    2nd September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

    Hermione Granger didn't know what to think about the new student. Harrold Smith was an enigma, to say the least, and it was one that happened to be very frustrating to solve… She didn't expect much from him when he said that he was homeschooled, but he managed to surprise her. The practice slowly faded away when proper magical education was put in place because it was simply far more efficient.

    Even people who had a specialized field of magic had to learn the basics, which Hogwarts offered. They could learn anything else during the summer or just after graduating from Hogwarts. The idea of some boy who hadn't attended a single day of school being on the level of a Hogwarts student was absurd… And yet, he used wordless magic…

    Hermione had looked into it after the train ride. She might have used her Prefect privileges to get to the library past curfew… It was supposed to be a NEWT level skill, something that they should learn the following year. Just displaying it on his OWLS would probably raise his grade for every practical exam.

    She also couldn't figure out how to do it…

    The muggleborn was tempted to ask him, she really did, but she didn't have it in her to admit that she couldn't do it by herself.

    He was also obviously well educated, considering what little she had glimpsed from his notebook. It was beyond advanced arithmancy, and she had hoped he'd explain some of it slightly…

    It made her slightly jealous… Fine, a lot jealous…

    It didn't help that Harry kept bragging about him beating Slytherin's entire quidditch team with their own spells. Hermione rolled her eyes once more when he replayed what happened, Ron being completely engrossed by his tale, "I can't believe he did that…"

    Harry grinned back at the redhead, "I know… Malfoy even complained to Snape afterwards and the git asked for Harrold's wand. You should have seen his face when he only saw a few charms and a small conjuration… Even when Snape said that it was his fault, Smith told him that they only needed to stop casting spells. Oh, the look on Malfoy's face was priceless…"

    "As nice as hearing this story for the third time is, we're almost late for our defence class. Remember what I said, Harry…"

    "I know," he answered dramatically, "Don't antagonize her… I should just keep my head down and don't let her get to me… Harrold told me the same thing…"

    Again, with Harrold… Hermione suppressed the urge to growl at the name.

    There was something wrong with that guy. He was a little too skilled, a little too knowledgeable… Like an older student… Maybe he was a spy… The Marauder Map did reveal Crouch Junior, maybe it would say if Smith was an impostor too… She'd look at it after their next class.

    As they walked into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hermione couldn't help but notice Professor Umbridge already sitting primly at the teacher's desk, looking as if she'd been waiting there for ages. She was still wearing that same fluffy pink cardigan from the night before, and of course, the pink velvet bow was back on top of her head, sitting there like it was trying way too hard to be cute.

    Hermione found herself irritated by the sight of it as if the bow itself was mocking the seriousness of the subject they were supposed to be learning. The whole look seemed so out of place for a Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and Hermione had a sinking feeling that this lesson wasn't going to be very informative. She already had her doubts about the required book, but a part of her expected the ministry to not actively hurt their education…

    After they all settled in, the woman spoke up in a fake sweet voice, "Good morning, children…"

    When they all grumbled back some greetings, her eyes hardened, "Now, that was rude… It's more polite to greet your professor at once. Let's try it 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge'"

    The class echoed it, and the woman clapped her hands like she was a seven-year-old girl, "That's great. Now, why don't we start by talking about what you should be expecting this year in my class? As most of you already know, this is your OWL year, and considering just how fragmented your education is, I believe that it's critical that we return to the basics and strengthen your foundations… We'll be doing that through a Ministry-approved curriculum specifically tailored for you. I believe you all have bought the required book. I believe it was Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhart? If you don't, raise your hands and I'll distribute some copies for the duration of the class. If you do have one, please open Chapter 5 of the book and start reading. In Silence…"

    And just like that, the entire room just opened the textbook and started reading. Hermione had been afraid of this. The book was dull even for her. It kept circling around certain subjects… Slinkhart's main theory was that learning how to escape a situation was more important than actually fighting… Most of the spells mentioned in the book were used as examples of how to use them to escape bad situations… Like casting a smoke spell to escape, and which authorities to contact for every situation. Unfortunately, he was also of the opinion that curses and counter-curses were the same thing, that there was no difference between defensive and offensive spells, which he often proclaimed should only be used by qualified personnel – the ministry.

    Hermione looked around and saw the other students were barely paying any attention to the book. It was a boring read, to say the least.

    She then turned towards Harrold Smith, trying to see what he was doing. The boy was, once more, scribbling in his notebook, and hadn't even opened the referenced book. She wasn't the only one to notice, since Umbridge did her weird cough, "Hem Hem…"

    The boy didn't seem to care one bit and continued to write. The woman then waved her wand and exclaimed, "Accio…"

    Hermione expected the notebook to fly out of the boy's hands, only for nothing to happen. All this accomplished is getting the entire class to look up from their books towards the teacher pointing her wand, "Mr. Smith, give me your notebook…"

    The new student tilted his head in a confused manner, "What notebook?"

    The professor practically snarled at him, "Don't lie, Mr. Smith…"

    "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about."

    Umbridge walked forward and her eyes widened when she saw nothing in front of him, "You hid it."

    "Are you alright, professor?" he asked with an obviously fake concerned tone.

    "Give me your bag?" the woman screeched at him.

    He just gave her his bag, which had nothing more than a few sheets of parchment and the potions textbook. The woman didn't seem to like that, "Where is it?"

    "Professor, I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about…"

    "You must have charmed it somehow…"

    Harrold tilted his head in confusion, "But I didn't take out my wand to cast any spells…"

    Umbridge seemed to realize that she was making a scene, and she gave him a severe look, "You haven't opened your book!"

    "I already read it… Decided to wait in silence until you give us our next task…"

    "There are no next tasks, Mr. Smith…"

    The boy hummed, "Will every class follow the same format? There won't be any practical classes, for every school year?"

    "Why on earth would you need to use defensive magic in my class? Are you expecting to be attacked?"

    This time, it was Harry who answered, "And what if we're attacked, what then? We won't be in your classroom every day, will we? What happens in the real world?"

    "And who would attack such innocent children?" she replied with a condescending tone.

    Harry seemed to get angrier, "What about Lord Voldemort?"

    Now, that caused a conundrum. Hermione rolled her eyes; Harry had gotten baited, again… He's been having a bit of a temper since the third task. She had noticed this in Grimmauld place, but she had hoped it would have faded away in the previous month… It made him act far more rashly.

    Umbridge ignored the small squeaks and commotion saying Voldemort's name and spoke up with a condescending tone, "Now, I know that you have been told that a certain Dark Lord returned from the dead, and that is a lie. You have nothing to fear. The ministry guarantees that you are safe from any dark wizards… You are welcome to see me after class if you have any questions on the matter please come see me after class. As for now, please continue reading your chapter…"

    Hermione noticed that Harry obviously wanted to say something but had magically frozen in place. She thought the discussion would end there, but Smith decided to raise his hand. Umbridge rolled her eyes, "Yes, Mr. Smith..."

    "Look, Professor, I don't really care if some dark lord is back or not… My worries were more from a logistical standpoint. You said that your curriculum was approved by the ministry, does that mean that measures are being taken in place for this curriculum to stick in the coming year? I'm assuming that all school years follow the same policy of no using spells inside your classroom?"

    "Well, of course it is. I assure you that the ministry has everything in hand and yes, Minister Fudge has signed off on everything," she answered with a sweet tone.

    Hermione expected him to blow up as well, instead, he looked particularly curious, "That's quite a brave stance to take. An expensive one too, I must say…"

    That seemed to make the woman stiffen, "And why would you call it that? This is simply a way to standardize your education for this class, to create order out of chaos…"

    "Yes, I wasn't talking about that. As far as I can tell, this curriculum focuses more on how to escape dangerous situations and contact the authorities. It's actually something that I find very useful and that most people will actually need. However, the fact remains that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement hires its Auror based on this grade. And that means that they'll have to teach actual defensive spells from scratch, which means Auror training will have to be more extensive to teach the basics of combat magic… And a population that doesn't know how to defend itself fully, would also mean that the ministry would need even more Aurors… So, to combat this, I'm guessing that Minister Fudge is planning on raising the DMLE's budget, a pretty significant shift in policy in my opinion since he slashed the budget multiple times in the last decade… Which I believe stemmed from the fact that Amelia Bones was a potential candidate for the title of minister, wasn't she?"

    The silence that met Smith's proclamation was unsettling. Weirdly enough, it was the Slytherins that were looking at him with renewed light… She could understand why; Smith's concerns were valid… If the ministry cemented this curriculum for all years, then in seven years, there would be no qualified Auror recruits, which meant that training the Aurors would get more expensive, resulting in an increase of the DMLE's funding… Although Hermione didn't know that Amelia Bones was a potential candidate for the post of minister...

    Umbridge, oddly enough, was stunned to silence and Smith continued, "There are also some international concerns on the matter. If this is the curriculum for every year, then a NEWT in the subject would have lower value in the international scene, which means that the ministry would either have to offer some kind of course for graduates, one that could be recognized internationally, or it would force the recruits to not work outside the country, which would lower Britain's standing in the international scene…"

    He didn't seem to be too concerned by the professor becoming redder by the minute, "I suppose if I had any other questions, I'll just contact the Department of Magical Education directly. With the curriculum changing so much, the OWL and NEWT exams will have to reflect that… Who was the head of the department again? Griselda Marchbanks, right?"

    That seemed to have been it for Umbridge, "Detention, Mr. Smith!"

    Harrod didn't seem concerned by this fact, "May I ask why, professor?"

    "For disrupting the classroom…"

    "I simply asked a question on the changes in the curriculum. I did not know that it counted as a disturbance…"

    The professor sneered at him, "I do not tolerate lies in my classroom…"

    "Hmm, how peculiar… I wonder which part would be a lie… If I lied about the DMLE getting an increased budget, then we'd have either far fewer Aurors or just far less qualified ones in a few years... If I lied about possible plans for further defence education, then any job that currently requires a defence NEWT or OWL would find its recruits unqualified, so that's more gold down the drain to train them… So, if I'm lying, then the ministry will find itself in quite a dire situation in a few years… And if I was mistaken when I thought that the entire ministry knew about the change in the curriculum and its consequences, well, that wouldn't look good for anyone involved, would it? Are you sure you want me to be lying, Professor Umbridge?"

    The smooth way Smith delivered this little speech simply silenced the entire classroom, and Umbridge simply stated, "You will see me after class, Mr. Smith."

    "Of course, Professor Umbridge," he replied with a smug grin, "After all, you still haven't answered my questions yet…"

    AN: I thought that this was a good way to get a handle on Umbridge's first lesson. The plan was to have her being tricked on her own battlefield. Idk if it came off exactly like I wanted it to, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 320: Of Cruel Feathers
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 320: Of Cruel Feathers

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    2nd September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

    The smooth way Smith delivered this little speech silenced the entire classroom, and Umbridge simply stated, "You will see me after class, Mr. Smith."

    "Of course, Professor Umbridge," he replied with a smug grin, "After all, you still haven't answered my questions yet…"

    Harry was smiling as the entire classroom left the frankly boring Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, relishing at the glares Umbridge was giving him, especially as he took out his notebook once more after his little speech and continued his research without any interruptions…

    His counterpart and his friends gave him worried looks, but he simply rolled his eyes. To be fair, they were all leaving him alone in the company of a woman who wanted to set him aflame with just her glare. That woman had to have some very serious attachment issues regarding Fudge, especially considering all he did was make a few comments on ways the ministry would handle this…

    Meh, it didn't matter. He couldn't deny that it wasn't satisfying just putting her in her place.

    Finally, the last student left the classroom and Umbridge closed the door with a swish of her wand, "Thank you so much for staying, Mr. Smith..."

    Harry simply shrugged, "You're the professor after all."

    The woman's smile grew, "Oh, I'm glad to know that you remember this, especially considering how insolent you were during class."

    "Was I insolent? I thought as the Minister's undersecretary, you would have known more about his future plans for the country. I was just preparing myself, making my plans, considering the changes he was planning on implementing. After all, he has to be implementing something to balance the scales again. No administration would be incompetent enough to make such drastic changes to the future generations' education and not plan for the consequences. A decision this severe can't be done rashly, after all."

    Umbridge got redder and redder the more he spoke, "You go too far, boy!"

    "And how is that?"

    The woman spluttered, "You called the minister incompetent. How is that not going too far?"

    "I said, he would be if he didn't have a plan in place. Are you saying that the minister made such a drastic change in his country's education, without having even considering the consequences of his decision?"

    "Of course not!" she exclaimed, mostly out of instinct.

    "Then the minister is not incompetent, is he? Now, I'm more curious as to what his plans are. You should be privy to the minister's plans, right? I assumed so since he trusted you for this very important job. You must be quite the confidante."

    The woman preened and Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Still, her reply was at least somewhat smart, "Of course, I am one of Cornelius' most trusted advisors. However, the minister's plans are still in motion, and I can't really say any specifics. What I can say for sure is that he has more than a few contingencies in place to avoid this decision having any negative consequences to Magical Britain in any way. He simply didn't publicize them because certain undesirable individuals would attempt to interfere."

    Harry pretended to be ashamed, "Oh, then I suppose me blurting out the possible solutions was a bad idea. Now everyone could know, especially since a lot of my classmates have family in the Ministry and the Wizengamot. The entire thing probably spread all over the school."

    Umbridge paled at that. She probably didn't think this through. Harry knew perfectly what he was saying in the classroom and the consequences of giving suggestions the way he did. Even if it was a little speech around a few students, Fudge would be forced to pretend that he was planning on implementing one of the solutions Harry spoke of, to not look very incompetent. And that would cost gold… A lot of gold, really. Harry expected the DMLE's funding to skyrocket soon, which would increase the influence of one of Fudge's political rivals.

    Harry suppressed a smirk at Lucius Malfoy's gold being used to fund the Aurors that his master would fight against. He didn't expect Voldemort to be happy with the man, especially after the diary fiasco.

    Still, the woman was able to steel herself pretty quickly. She had to, especially with a career in politics. Her fear slowly morphed into anger, which Harry was able to analyse easily with his Arcane Hearing. She gave him a sickly-sweet smile, "Now, onto the matter of your punishment, Mr. Smith."

    "I am being punished?"

    "Well, of course, you disturbed my classroom and put the ministry's authority into question. That is a punishable offence, don't you think?"

    Harry really wanted to roll his eyes for the third time in just five minutes. The bitch was just being sadistic. No professor – other than Snape, maybe – would have punished a student for asking questions. But she was frustrated and wanted to take it out on the source of her anger, even if he didn't deserve it.

    He knew where this was going and decided to go with the flow. Already a small plan started to form inside his head. He could probably hit three birds with a single stone… He liked that.

    Of course, he pretended to be ashamed of his actions, "Of course, professor. I submit myself to whatever punishment you deem to be fit."

    "Well, since this is only the first day of school, I'm going to be lenient. You will simply write a few lines. I believe you have an hour until your class with Professor Snape, correct?"

    Harry nodded and took out his quill, "Yes."

    "Oh, you won't do it with your quill. You'll be using a special one of mine," Harry could hear the excitement at the thought of seeing him in pain.

    She opened one of her drawers and took out a long black quill that was unusually sharp. Harry immediately knew what it was. He could hear the malice used to create it in the first place. She gave him a sharp look, "Now, I want you to write 'The ministry's decision are beyond my judgement'."

    "How many times?" he asked.

    "Until the message sticks, of course. Oh, and don't worry, you won't need any ink."

    Harry looked at the black quill and used his Arcane Hearing on it. It was a curious thing, really, a cursed version of a Blood Quill. They were not supposed to really cut into people's hands, at least originally. They were actually designed to do the complete opposite of that, to sign agreements in blood without having any cuts. They were outlawed long ago alongside blood contracts after people just kept binding each other, which created an entire political mess.

    They were already pretty expensive back then. But after being banned, they became extremely so. This quill must have belonged to one of Umbridge's ancestors, something that she either refused or couldn't sell, and instead decided to curse into an instrument of torture than anything.

    Yeah, Harry wasn't about to let someone have any of his blood. He discreetly transfigured one of his self-inking quills to look like the one Umbridge gave him and altered it slightly to make the ink red.

    With that done, he pretended that his arm hurt, and the woman just looked satisfied. Harry rolled his eyes and instead put an illusion of himself being in pain while enchanting the quill to write the lines on its own.

    After around half an hour, she turned to him and asked, "Hand!"

    Harry raised an eyebrow, "Why would you need to see my hands, professor?"

    That seemed to confuse her to no end, "Do you wish to write even more lines, Mr. Smith? Give me your hands!"

    Harry raised his unblemished hand, watching with satisfaction as the woman's face reddened in frustration when she realized nothing had happened. Her eyes narrowed, and she quickly strode forward, snatching the quill from the desk. "This isn't my quill. What did you do to it?"

    "Whatever do you mean, Professor?" Harry replied, his tone innocent.

    Her voice grew harsher. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, boy!"

    "Are you referring to that strange quill that cuts people and uses their blood as ink? That one?"

    "Yes!" she hissed.

    Harry shrugged casually. "Never seen it in my life."

    Her face twisted in anger, and she raised her wand at him, but her hand froze in mid-air. Harry smiled calmly, "Now, now… No need to get violent."

    "I'll call the Aurors," she threatened, her voice low and dangerous.

    Harry tilted his head slightly, feigning curiosity. "And tell them what, exactly? 'I'm sorry, but I had this banned item that I cursed and planned to use on students to torture them during detention, but this boy somehow got hold of it.' What do you think they'd say? Who do you think they'd arrest—me, or you? And what would that do to Fudge's reputation? After all, you are his representative at Hogwarts. Every move you make must have his approval, right?"

    Her face contorted with rage. "Get out!" she barked.

    Harry's smirk grew wider as he leaned in slightly. "It's sad that you actually think you have any authority here. Your one play is gone. You'll never hurt anyone in this castle again. You won't hurt Harry Potter or his friends. We both know I could probably take you in a fight, and let's be honest—you're too broke to afford another cursed item to use on students."

    The Defense professor stiffened, her eyes narrowing, and Harry continued, his voice soft but cutting. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You are poor, aren't you? You probably found that quill somewhere, or maybe you even stole it. You can't even afford to replace it, can you? It's pathetic… clawing your way to the top while others, with more gold than you, were born into privilege. After all these years, you probably couldn't even buy a single cursed artefact…"

    With each word, Harry subtly cast a compulsion charm, planting seeds of doubt and resentment deep within her mind. He knew she would feel the need to prove him wrong, to show she wasn't as poor as he implied. She would go to Gringotts over the weekend, then make her way to Knockturn Alley, intent on buying the most painful magical item she could afford, just to use it on him in another detention.

    It was so easy. She was too angry, too humiliated, too vindictive to even realize she was being manipulated. He honestly expected more from her, but to be perfectly fair, she was probably not used to people acting this way. She was a ministry worker and an administrator. There were rules that everyone followed and she relied on Fudge's protection when she broke those rules. She never really confronted someone like Harry, who could just ignore these rules and didn't care about making any future enemies. He didn't care that Umbridge would probably complain to Fudge about him being an enemy. Why would he?

    After all, he wasn't planning on staying in this dimension, was he? Why should he really care about angering some administrators?

    Harry shook his head in disappointment, "Oh, look at the time. It wouldn't do to be late to Professor Snape's class, would it? I suppose you have a measure of luck. I heavily suggest that you don't push it…"

    He turned, grabbed his bag and left towards the dungeons. He was smiling at the small piece of hair that he subtly cut from her while he was intimidating her. Yes, everything was going according to plan. He would probably be able to destroy the cup in the weekend.

    Harry hadn't really planned on breaking into Gringotts so early, but Umbridge was just so accommodating that he didn't have it in him to refuse her gracious sacrifice. He carefully put the hair in his trunk, in the Gryffindor common room, and walked down to the dungeons.

    From the looks of things, he was late. His classmates, Gryffindor and Slytherins alike, were sitting in pairs and looking at the professor. As for Snape, he was in the middle of a dramatic speech about their OWLS. The entire classroom, Snape included, turned to him at once.

    The potion master looked at him as if he was a stain on the floor, which Harry met with a smile, "You are late, Mr. Smith."

    Harry simply shrugged, his smile still on his face, "I'm sorry. There was this toad that asked me to find the perfect Lilypad. It turns out, finding the right one is a lot harder than you'd think."

    The entire classroom froze at his frankly outrageous response. Even Snape looked surprised by Harry's audacity, "That will be twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Smith. Please take a seat next to Longbottom." Snape's lips curled into a thin, almost cruel smile as he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure sitting beside Mr. Longbottom will be… a fitting experience for someone with your apparent talents.

    Neville whispered to him, "I'm sorry mate…"

    "You don't need to be sorry."

    "Everything alright with Umbridge. Gran told me that she's pretty horrible."

    Harry gave him a smug smile, "Oh, she's horrid, but don't worry. Everything went perfectly."

    AN: I'm not sure how I handled the conversation with Umbridge. I wanted Harry to essentially make her lose control and press her buttons enough that she wouldn't notice the compulsions to go to Gringotts. I don't know if it landed like I wanted it to, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
     
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    • I think it went well all things considered!

    Wonderful work as always, thank you for the chapter!
     
    Chapter 321: Of Investigative Bushes
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    • Chapter 321: Of Investigative Bushes

    I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

    5th September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

    Hermione Granger watched as Harrold Smith wrote down something in his notebook. He was completely ignoring Flitwick's explanation of the silencing charm. The boy casually pointed his wand at the frog in front of him, without even using the proper wand movements or incantation, and yet the frog's croaks became silent. He didn't even look at the animal, just at his notebook.

    He performed similar feats in every class, other than Potions, of course, and it was driving her mad. No one was that good. No one could be that good. It was why Hermione thought that he was an impostor. An adult wizard, who already knew the spells required, would behave the same way. If that was the case, then he was a horrible infiltrator. Smith wasn't even pretending to struggle in his classes, which would have been what any infiltrator would do. He also wasn't using any Polyjuice – she had seen him spend hours at a time without eating or drinking anything – but there were other ways to change one's appearance. She just hasn't found what Smith used yet.

    When Flitwick awarded Smith ten more points for his feat, she had enough. She turned towards Harry and murmured, "Hey, can I use the Marauder's Map?"

    "Why do you need it?"

    "I just saw something suspicious with Umbridge. I wanted to check on her…"

    She didn't want to tell Harry that she was investigating Smith. They were strangely friendly. Harry always had a hard time speaking with people and yet he somehow clicked with Smith. It was just odd, and one of the reasons she was investigating him in the first place.

    It was her duty as Harry's best friend, after all.

    To be fair, Harrold already did a lot of good when he spoke up to Umbridge. Two days later, the Minister announced an increase in the budget of the DMLE, focusing on Auror training. Apparently, what he said got people thinking, and then they complained to their parents, who then complained to the ministry. It was funny that the events of a single classroom could affect the entire country in just a few days.

    Umbridge was in a particularly foul mood that day. She had even given Harry a detention for being distracted while reading her mind-numbing book. The crazy part was that Harrold was writing in his notebook with his defence book closed at the time, and yet she didn't do anything. And what was even more odd was the fact that the professor scheduled his detention for the following week, not even during the weekend.

    Anyway, when they returned to the common room, Harry gave her the map and the cloak. She hid underneath the cloak and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," while pointing her wand at the map.

    Ink spread out in the previously blank piece of parchment, revealing the map of Hogwarts. She looked carefully in the Gryffindor common room, and she saw his name 'Harrold Smith'. Damn it. He wasn't lying about his name. But then again, it could be his real name and he's using it to infiltrate there…

    She groaned in disappointment and murmured, "Mischief Managed."

    The map was a dead end. It wouldn't really reveal much. She was about to return the map and cloak to Harry, but she noticed that Smith and Neville were subtly walking out of the common room. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed them out.

    She was only doing this to protect Neville.

    That was exactly it. Her intentions were completely pure…

    Doing her best to stay silent, Hermione followed after them and saw Neville speak in a meek voice, "I don't think I can do it, Harrold…"

    Oh, that didn't sound good. Thankfully, Harrold answered him, "Maybe you're right, you can't. You have to try. You need to have more confidence in yourself… You know, confidence is a pretty important thing when it comes to magic."

    "Really?"

    The new student nodded, "Of course. There's a whole mess of arithmancy behind it, but what you feel is often mirrored in your magic. If you hesitate when you cast, the magic will be clumsy and possibly even misfire, even if you followed the instructions perfectly. But if you're sure of yourself, even if you made a small mistake, the spell will most likely just work… Of course, there's also the matter of your wand holding you back."

    "My wand?" For the first time, she noticed that Neville's tone turned harsh.

    "Yes. It's not yours. And my guess is that its wielder is still alive. I'm not an expert in wand lore but I can tell you that using someone else's wand is a bad idea, unless you gained the ownership of the wand from them, of course."

    "Gaining ownership?" he muttered, looking confused.

    "If you beat someone in combat, like actual combat, not some competition, a wand can change its allegiance, submit to the new owner… It doesn't happen a lot, because people are often wary of using their enemy's wand, but there is proof of this phenomenon in history if you look for it."

    Neville's voice turned hesitant again, "It was my father's… And people have used legacy wands before."

    "I thought as much. I know what happened to your parents, Neville. It is something I wouldn't wish on anyone, believe me. But despite all of this, your father is still alive. A legacy wand works because it doesn't have an owner. The wand in your hand has one. It will never accept you as long as your father still breathes, and you will never achieve your full potential with this wand holding you back."

    "It just makes me close to him…"

    Harrold's tone turned comforting, "Come on, man. If you think about it, it's actually a good thing that the wand isn't yours."

    "How is that?" Neville answered with restrained anger.

    "Because it means that the wand recognizes that there's still something left of your father to be loyal to. It means that there might possibly be a way to save him and your mother. I could be wrong, but as long as this wand doesn't submit to you, you will have hope…"

    That seemed to have struck him silent, before he slowly murmured, "You think so?"

    "Who knows? It could happen. It was honestly why I found it odd that you hated potions so much. It's possibly the field of magic that could help your parents to most. I know I would have been working on a cure the moment I got to Hogwarts…"

    "I was excited a bit, at first… But Snape… I just feel so useless…"

    Harrold nodded in agreement, "I did notice that your theory was pretty good. It's pretty connected to Herbology, so I'm guessing it's why you like it so much. But you do mess up a lot in the actual brewing. You just forget a few steps or get a few things mixed up…"

    "Thanks for saving our potion, by the way. I know Snape wanted to punish you for being late by partnering you up with me."

    "It was nothing, I'm kinda good a potion…"

    Neville rolled his eyes, "You literally added random ingredients to save the potion, and it worked, somehow. You're a miracle worker. I just wish Snape wasn't so… Snape… I guess."

    Harrold snorted, "I get your point with that. That guy is a massive arse… I'm guessing he was bullied as a student and now he takes it out on other students. Pretty childish, in my opinion, and he shouldn't really have become a professor with that attitude, but you need to realize something very important. He can't do anything to you, not really. His whole scary persona is just that, a persona and nothing more. He can't hurt you without ending up in trouble. Now, what I'm most concerned about is Umbridge. She doesn't seem to have the same restraint…"

    "What happened in your detention? People have been talking but no one said anything."

    The new student released a chuckle, "Oh, that. She tried having me write lines with a cursed quill. I just stole the quill and didn't give it back…"

    "You're joking!" Neville exclaimed.

    "I'm really not. When she said that she'd call the Aurors, I just said that she'll need to say what I stole… She kinda shut up after that… It was a pretty expensive thing too. Still, I can see her trying this again with someone else. So, try to avoid getting any detention with her."

    Hermione logged that small piece of information. She would need to tell Harry about it, that's for sure. He needed to be warned, especially if he could find proof that she was using something illegal or unethical to punish her students.

    But something else also rattled in Hermione's mind. What happened to Neville's parent? It was obviously a bit of a sore point for the boy, and from the sounds of it, it was something terrible. They weren't dead, so that was good at least, right?

    Still, she wasn't making any headway with her investigation. Smith was surprisingly nice to Neville, pretty understanding even, but there was something still wrong. She could feel it in her gut. Deciding that she would apologize to Neville later, she cast a small compulsion charm on Neville, getting him to ask, "What about your notebook? What are you constantly writing there?"

    "Don't worry, it's not a diary or something… It's a bit of a challenge, you see. My mother hid most of her stuff before she died. I think it's in some kind of hidden vault of some kind. I think she wanted me to make a spell that would open it… She was always like this, you see. She constantly made these little tests when I was young. This isn't exactly something new, but it's far more difficult than I expected. I'm making some headway, but I keep a log of everything in this notebook in case I make a mistake and need to retrace my work… I'm about halfway done, I think."

    Neville's voice softened, "Your mom died..."

    "Yes, just a few months ago. I'm sad, but it wasn't exactly a shock. She was hit with a curse a few years back and we knew that it was coming… Still, it's a bit of a dick move to hide everything just before she died."

    "I thought you would have been more broken up about it…"

    Harrold sighed, "We all deal with grief differently. This puzzle is my mother's last legacy, her last goodbye. She wasn't perfect, I know that, and more importantly, I accept that. She failed me in many ways just like I failed her in others. I will miss her… I think her puzzle was a way to distract me from grieving too much. Who knows? I gave up understanding what happened in her mind a very long time ago…"

    Neville patted his back and Harrold's expression morphed into a smile, "Well, enough of this gloomy crap."

    "Wanna go back to the common room?"

    "Nah, I need to send a letter to someone first…"

    Neville gave him a weird smile, "Who?"

    "Just a friend of my mother's. He's taking care of our dog, you see. We couldn't really take him to Hogwarts… I think my mother hid something in that necklace we got him. She was the one who enchanted it, so who knows…"

    "Fine… Are we still on for tomorrow, right?"

    Harrold nodded, "I can give you your potion lesson at eight. I should be finished with my stuff by then…"

    "What stuff?"

    "Oh, nothing much, I'm just trying to find a cup."

    Neville gave the new student an incredulous look, "A cup? There are hundreds of them in the Great Hall."

    "Sure, there are… But I'm looking for a very specific one. He's pretty important. I think I know where it is, but I'm leaving a bit of time in case I'm wrong…"

    "And what's so special about this mysterious cup?"

    Smith snorted, "Lots… After all, it's a pretty old cup…"

    He didn't say anything else on the matter and Neville sighed, "You're not going to say anything more about that, are you?"

    "Of course not! Where's the fun in that?"

    "Let's just get to the owlery," Neville replied with a defeated tone.

    Hermione couldn't help but feel conflicted. She hadn't really gotten the information that she wanted, but she had gotten enough to feel bad about her spying. Maybe Smith wasn't a spy… There was still something off with him, but she didn't know if she had it in her to intrude in his personal matters again… He had said a lot of personal stuff to Neville.

    Smith obviously liked to play the mystery angle, especially since he told Neville so easily about the notebook, but not Hermione. He was probably doing the same about the cup thing too. No, she would just keep a close eye on him, just from afar. If he did anything suspicious once more, she would catch him. After all, she could just use the map to see his comings and goings…

    Hermione only hoped that she was doing the right thing. All she wanted to do was to protect Harry, after all.

    Unfortunately for her, she failed to notice the slightly smug, knowing, and satisfied look on Smith's face as she walked back to the common room.

    AN: This chapter kinda feels like a filler. I wasn't really planning on making it, but I had a bit of fun writing a chapter where Harry essentially gaslights Hermione who's trying to be sneaky. I thought about making a confrontation between Harry and Snape, but it just felt a bit unnecessary and would have made Harry look like an insolent guy (I have something better planned for later). Anyway, there are a few hints on what will happen next in the chapter. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
     
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