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The morning after my little astronomy/divination vision quest - found me pensive and brooding at the breakfast table.
Of course I had utilized the Marauders map before performing my little ritual, there had been no one in the vicinity, not even close - it's why I'd felt safe enough to try it in the open. Checking the map immediately after finding that I was spied upon, left me with more questions than answers. I hadn't really taken that long to perform it, not unless my perception of time was warped during the ritual. So there shouldn't have been any way for anyone to be nearby that quickly.
Professor Snape, Professor Quirrell and Professor Sinistra were all within the general vicinity - of a sort. All of them quite possibly the spy, although they'd all been enough of a distance away that it said disturbing things about the spy's ability to move quickly, because there hadn't been much time between myself finding the footprint - and checking the map - and they'd all been far enough away by then to give no real clue to which one of them had been the spy.
As much as I wish for it to be Professor Sinistra, I'm not that lucky. If it was her, she'd likely been watching the meteor shower herself, arriving late enough I didn't catch her on the map - somehow... She might have simply caught on to what I was doing and watched - due to professional curiosity, or maybe due to a desire to ensure I didn't mess up and injure myself - that could be the likely reasons for her spying on me.
However… If it was her, no doubt she'd pull me aside at some point after class - either to lecture me, or talk Astronomy with an obviously gifted student - or she would have done so immediately. Yet, I felt it was unlikely to have been her at all. Professor Sinistra would have probably not tried to remain unseen, nor remove herself from the situation after - especially in such a rapid manner. She'd have had no reason to, she was a professor, I was a student out after curfew, performing a ritual. Whether to chastise me or congratulate me - she had no reason to run away and hide her intentions.
Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell however… Both men would have plenty of reasons for not wanting to be seen. They were both just as likely to want to spy on me and hold something over my head - rather than stick around to take points and assign detentions. For all of Snape's vitriol and his hard ons for putting a student down verbally, he was a spy and a consummate Slytherin. He could find better uses for knowing what I am doing then simply send me for detention.
No doubt he had plenty of experience getting away quickly from a possibly compromising position. And likely knew shortcuts, I doubt the Marauders had found all of Hogwarts secrets. After all, they'd never found the chamber of secrets. And Hogwarts surely had more secret tunnels and hallways than those shown on the map.
And Professor Quirrell… I don't even want to know what exactly he could want with spying on me. Hasn't he already gotten enough from whatever he's achieved with those detentions of his, and whatever he's doing that he Obliviated me for? What else could he need that he'd spy on me. Yes, I performed a ritual of a sort, unusual for a first year, yes. But the magic isn't really that hard. Just needed a lot of esoteric knowledge and a strong will - and a certain flexibility when it comes to rules… Could Quirrell have been the one to spy on me? And in that case? What exactly does he want? Like, really? Nothing that he's doing this year has made any sense!
My hand clenches hard around the spoon as I slowly eat my way through my honey sweetened oatmeal, I need that rat…. Legilimency is the only way for me to crack that obliviation, and I could hardly trust anyone else to peek inside my head for it, could I? Considering my options for that - were likely Snape, Quirrelmort or Dumbledore…. Yeah, I needed to do it myself. I need to find out what exactly Quirrell was hiding, and obviously I stumbled onto something at some point - necessitating my obliviation.
"I've been talking to you for the past ten minutes…" An irritable voice breaks through my thoughts, I blink, and tilt my head Neville's way, a sheepish look on my face.
"Sorry, lost in my head." I apologize, "Didn't mean to ignore you."
"A scary place to be, your head, that is." Padma mocks, not even looking up, foregoing breakfast entirely, sitting at the Hufflepuff table reading a book. The history of Ancient Rome - Magical edition.
I need to borrow that… I think with a covetous glance at the book. Magical history is just so interesting. If I'd do anything after Hogwarts other then more magic research - it would be becoming the magical equivalent of Indiana Jones.
"Go back to your own table." I grouch eventually, her mocking and her reading a book I want in front of me, annoys me - because I know it's totally on purpose. I send Neville an apologetic look for ignoring him, as Padma rolls her eyes at me, still not looking up from what she's reading, Su quietly picking her way through an assortment of granolas next to her. "Sorry, what did you want to talk about?" I ask him, putting Padma out of my mind for now.
"Winter hols, you're coming with me." Neville says, the tips of his ears reddening, as Hannah and Susan - not so quietly - whisper encouragement for his 'commanding attitude'.
Those two were getting ridiculous, even if I do approve of their strategy of showering Neville in positive reinforcement.
"Are you asking me or telling me?" I ask, a wry smile breaking out.
"Telling you?" Neville asks, looking a little bit less sure now. Glancing at Hanna and Susan for support. They give him a big thumbs up which just makes him flounder a bit, embarrassed.
"I'm only going to be gone for a few days… Then I'll be back at Hogwarts, I'm not actually leaving for the entire holidays." I point out, curious if Neville will continue to insist. I'd planned on using my limited remaining funds to stay at the Leaky Cauldron while taking my tests - Longbottom manor would be an improvement - cheaper too.
"My gran wants to meet you anyway, you'll stay with us for a few days, won't you? You can floo back to Hogwarts after you're done your tests." Neville says hopefully. Not quite using puppy dog eyes - but close. Someone's been practicing. I watch Hannah and Susan suspiciously. They're a bad influence.
"Just say yes already, Lucas." Hannah whines playfully, "You need somewhere to stay don't you?"
I glance around me, at the intent eyes of Susan, who meets my own, her cheeks reddening, but her gaze staying stubbornly on mine. To Padma's presence where she is studiosly not looking at me, and Su's quiet presence, glancing at me every few seconds, immediately looking away when I catch her eyes. Hannah and Neville both have spoken up already, making their intent clear.
"You're just worried where I'm going to stay, aren't you?" I say with a sigh, shaking my head, a small smile blossoming on my face. "Of course I'll accept, Neville." I say, and the undercurrent of tension around the table, that I'd just become aware of, lessened.
Seriously, they're taking this whole orphan thing much more seriously than I ever have. Hufflepuffs…
"Good. That's good." Neville says, letting out a breath, glancing nervously at the girls.
"After all, I need to help you convince your grandmother to let you get a new wand." I continue on, my smile turning a little wicked as Neville pales dramatically.
"She'll kill me!" He says weakly, "Besides, I'm just bad at magic, it's not the wand."
I shake my head, putting a hand on his shoulder, "You're not bad at magic, mate. And your wand not being yours might be the problem - it might not, but let Ollivander decide that, eh?"
"You don't know Gran." He mutters, staring down at his toast with sudden trepidation.
"Well I wanted to meet the lady anyway. Maybe I can ask her why your family thought trying to force magic out of you was a good idea?" I say, my grin all teeth. The story came out of Neville shortly after our acquaintance started - no one had been impressed with it.
I hadn't liked it, reading about it in the books - how Neville was those first years, what his personality and his family history said about his treatment. I liked it even less now that he was my friend.
"She deserves a talking to…" Susan mutters, averting her eyes from Neville's pleading ones, "I'm sorry Neville, but she does." Hannah nodded along emphatically, her mouth full of toast preventing her from adding to the argument.
"No take backs on the invite, mate!" I say with a smirk, winking at him.
"Don't worry Neville, you know Lucas. No doubt she'll be too busy being mad at him, to be mad at you." Padma says leisurely, flipping a page in her book.
"That's… Probably true." I admit, raking a hand through my hair. Oh, well. She probably won't transfigure me or something, so no big deal.
"She shouldn't be mad at either of you… She's in the wrong." Su says quietly. Offering Neville a small supportive smile.
"Adults don't like admitting to being fallible." Padma snorts, looking up, eyes saddened, "Don't count on her being reasonable."
I give the Indian born girl a considering look, I really need to find out what's going on with her family one of these days. I open my mouth to try and pry a bit, but bite my tongue before I can start.
Because our chat is interrupted by the most unlikely of characters at that point. As Draco Malfoy clears his throat from where he'd walked up behind Padma and Su, "Greenwood, if I could have a word in the hall, only if you're done with breakfast, of course." He asks politely.
An uncomfortable silence settles over the first year's part of the table, as not only my friend group, but our entire section of the Hufflepuff table is watching Malfoy warily. His two cronies a few respectful steps behind him, not Crabbe and Goyle - like in canon. They were more like minions at the periphery of the group of Slytherins as far as I could tell - used intermittently by whoever. This Malfoy surrounded himself with Evander Rosier and Silvanus Selwyn.
Silvanus sometimes followed by his own minions, all female, while Evander sometimes was followed by Grabbe and Goyle - when the two of them weren't following Malfoy around. Honestly the Slytherins were just so very confusing. I could imagine that living in those dorms you'd need a whiteboard on your wall - to track what alliances were in play everyday.
I'm not actually done with breakfast, but the thought of trying to eat it, while all my fellow Hufflepuffs squirm uneasily, ruins my appetite anyway. And I can't help but be curious what this odd polite Malfoy can be up to in regard to myself. I wipe my mouth with a napkin, depositing it by my oatmeal as I stand, "Alright, Malfoy, I'll come have a chat." I wave my friends down when as one, they all look like they're going to stand up, "No, it's alright, we'll be in the hallway, nothing to worry about."
Malfoy sneers slightly as he observes us all, but pulls the polite facade back on, when he notices me watching.
Normally, I would not go anywhere with three Slytherins, not alone anyway, but right outside the Great Hall, during breakfast. Not even Malfoy would try and pull something that public. Besides, at least in regards to me. They've been perfectly polite - perhaps this is my chance to find out why?
We end up right beside the counters for the House cup, it amuses me slightly, due to the heavy disparity between our houses. Although I don't particularly care about house points. I still generate a very large amount. And Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are currently both far ahead of Slytherin - even with Professor Snape's usual points shenanigans. Hermione of course brings in a bevy of points for Gryffindor.
The golden trio not bleeding points as of yet, by avoiding stupidly unnecessary acts (this time around) and more importantly, avoiding getting caught for them, helps with those numbers.
"If you wanted to show me the point totals - I'm already aware we're winning." I say mildly, testing the waters. Out of the corner of my eyes I notice with exasperation that one of the Hufflepuff prefects, likely warned by my friends, is just casually hanging around the entrance to the Great Hall, watching.
Thank Merlin, Morgana and throw in Jesus as well on that pile, that it isn't Ophelia being asked to look out for me.
Merlin, I can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy because of the little interfering and worried bastards I call friends. Damn, I really am a Hufflepuff at heart aren't I?
Considering I'm of half a mind to hex the dowager lady of the Longbottom family on Neville's behalf… Maybe I really do fit in after all. Loyalty and all that. I'm never telling that Hat it might be right, I muse.
"We'll see by the end of the year." Evander bites out, interrupting my quick little introspection, sneering at me, before he quickly subsides from a warning look from Malfoy. Silvanus seems too busy admiring himself in the reflection of the hourglasses to interject. What's the world come to when Malfoy isn't the most arrogant first year?
"Just… Go wait over there." Malfoy tells his compatriots, waving indistinctly away from our general area, looking put out.
"So… What is this about?" I ask, once we're alone, Silvanus and Evander out of easy hearing range. The prefect watching us seems more at ease now that I'm not surrounded by three Slytherins as well.
"My father asked me to deliver something." Malfoy says, a twitch to his face the only sign of his feelings of being designated as a delivery boy.
"I'm pretty sure I don't have any dealings with Lucius Malfoy…" I reply slowly, mind racing. Why in Merlin's name is the elder Malfoy contacting me. Is it him that's behind the Slytherins weird and polite behavior?
Draco smirks, his pale face gaining a flush to it as his eyes glitter with thinly veiled amusement. "My father obviously has dealings with you, no matter your thoughts on the matter."
I sigh, this is not what I need right now, "What is it, then?" I ask, tentatively ready to draw my wand if Draco tries to hand me anything suspicious looking.
Draco reaches into his own mokeskin pouch, pulling out a large set of parchments, bound together by a leather strap. Holding them out to me.
I don't reach for them. "What is it?" I ask quietly. Not willing to grab anything random from a Malfoy. I need to know what and why - before I take such a risk. And I really don't like the fact a prefect is watching Malfoy handing me things…
"Test answers. Apparently my father is very interested in you doing well, Greenwood. You should be very appreciative, not many get that honor." Draco drawls, looking annoyed as I still don't reach for the parchments.
I'm too busy being in shock, to grab them. Was it Snape then? That spied on me last night? Then he told Malfoy Sr afterwards… No… That doesn't make much sense, how would he know what I saw, what I was looking for. If he spied on my ritual he wouldn't have known what exactly I was scrying for - although he is definitely clever enough to draw conclusions. It didn't fit though, Malfoy Sr, getting these test answers to his son, to pass along to me, within just the last few hours. It didn't fit.
Also, Merlin damn it. Couldn't he have given me this shit yesterday then? I wouldn't have needed to do the ritual if someone was just going to drop the stuff in my lap, anyway, I think irritably. That said, there is one more important question.
"Why?" I ask, peering at the test answers suspiciously. "Why would he do this?"
Draco scoffs, tossing the parchment bundle at my feet, his patience having obviously run out, "I don't know what anyone sees in you, Greenwood. Isn't it obvious?"
I grimace, my wand sliding into my hand, at the same time a wandless revelio reveals … Nothing. I summon the parchment bundle into my hands using my wand, no need to display too much, in case someone's paying attention to us out of sight too, slipping them into my own mokeskin pouch - no one else could see me holding these if I wanted to achieve anything, it's bad enough Malfoy and a prefect knows something, even if the prefect doesn't know what.
"He's using me for something." I say finally, a sour taste in my mouth.
I had intended to find a Slytherin today, yes. To acquire exactly this. But that was supposed to be a trade. Something of mine, for something they could get for me. This was a poisonous gift. I might not know what poison I am meant to swallow yet… But obviously Malfoy Sr, has a vested interest in me doing exactly what I planned on doing anyway - and he's helping me along. Not a great feeling. Doing some favors with some schoolboy Slytherin was vastly different from an inner circle Death Eater being that aware of what I'm doing.
"Well… It seems you can learn, Greenwood." Draco says with a nasty little superior smirk on his pale face.
"What does he get out of this, exactly?" I ask, my mind whirling with scenarios, trying to pinpoint what exactly a pureblood fanatic could gain by a muggleborn breaking all records. The idea was so out there that I couldn't actually come up with a reason at the moment.
Draco chuckles lowly, turning away, "Let me just tell you all of our plans… And any family secrets while I'm at it…" He drawls sarcastically. "Evander, Silvanus. Let's go." He calls out, louder.
I watch them leave, pondering things. I'd gotten exactly what I needed and wanted. But… This was not the way.
I couldn't step off my path now, I'm too close to the prize.
I'll just have to brace myself for whatever Lucius Malfoy has planned.
The tests are coming up, I don't have time to try anything else anymore, and even if I don't use the test answers, and score a 99 instead of a perfect score, based on my studying alone… I still took them from Draco, and Malfoy Sr would likely use it against me if I didn't perform to his expectations.
Maybe not publically, as his son gave them to me. But with the Ministry? Perhaps. The board of governors? Also likely.
I'm already on the path. Time to roll the dice and see how it goes. I'm committed.
Fucking Malfoys…
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"Peace and quiet, finally. If only all of them had left." Severus grumbled, sinking into a chair in front of the headmaster's desk, having ensured all the gremlins had departed on the Hogwarts Express - suffering through the endless noise of a throng of dunderheads excited for the holidays. Leaving only a small handful of students at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. If only the rest left too, then perhaps Severus could enjoy a holiday for once.
"Christmas is a magical time, Severus, for children especially." The headmaster chided gently, stroking his beard with one hand, as he sat before his desk, putting thoughts away in his pensieve with the other.
Severus twitched, as he always did when Albus insisted on using muggle phrases instead of the proper ones. Yule, was it that hard to say? He scoffed and looked away as Albus sent him a knowing look, eyes twinkling away behind his half moon glasses. "If only I got the luxury of such breaks…" Severus said with a sneer, switching the subject, before Albus could regale him about the inherent likeness between himself and Santa Claus and other such nonsense.
Albus sagged slightly in his throne-like chair at that comment, looking momentarily older than his age. As a powerful wizard - he could likely live another hundred years, Severus saw none of that at the moment. Just a tired old man, burdened by his choices. Not so different from Severus. Then again, Severus eyed the surroundings with hard cold eyes, some choices paid off better in the end, obviously. And involved less dirty hands.
And few were dirtier than his own.
"You know it's necessary." Albus finally spoke, eyes downcast. Struggling with his own choice.
That choice, one of the rare times when Severus had seen the man be ruthless from the get go, instead of waiting until he had no choice, and damn it all it had to happen the only time Severus wanted the headmaster to rule on compassion instead of pragmatism.
Severus didn't really care for any of the children, not really. Not personally. He detested children in fact. But he was trying to do something right for once, perhaps just to not blacken his soul completely, perhaps he was just tired of it all. He'd lived his life long enough to realize no one else should have to live it.
The guilty look Albus sent him as he finished depositing memories was just pathetic in Severus' opinion. Why bother feeling it - if he's going to just use Severus anyway.
Severus scoffed darkly, trust Albus to feel the guilt but yet happily pass on the actual tasks to him to perform, anyway. Albus made the choice, yes. But Severus was the damned one that was destroying a girl's life. "I could still perform my duties." He bit out, but it had no strength in it, they'd been over this.
He detested what he was doing far more than the loss of his potential usefulness. But it still stung, how for every year that went by, he became less useful, as his associates further distanced themselves.
Albus shook his head slowly, the wrinkles on his face stood out in stark relief due to the shining light of the memories in the bowl in front of him. "Tom is many things, Severus. Stupid is not one." He sighed, "While he might not love, or feel compassion and loyalty. He understands these things." Albus peered at him seriously, "He understands humans, better than probably anyone before him - understands them down to the very core of their being, he's an expert manipulator because of it. Having killed Lily Potter, after you begged him not to… Tom will never believe you to be his, now. Not after a decade by my side."
Albus dragged a weary hand down his face, "In retrospect, I shouldn't have made you stay at Hogwarts, "He admitted, "It has made the suspicion worse. Although due to Lily, Tom would still likely never trust you, no matter where you would have been."
"Must you." Severus growled, nails digging into the chairs arms, bringing in Lily into the argument was just dirty, a truly slytherin move. Albus had been practicing his ruthlessness lately, it seemed…"I am aware of this, yet the Death Eaters still allow me access." Lucius still counted on him, at least… Sometimes.
Albus stood, gently levitating the pensieve along as he walked over and put it away in his cabinet. "You know only the fact Tom is not around gives you that leeway, Severus." Albus chided, making him grit his teeth to keep back the bile he wanted to spew at the old headmaster. If that is true then why am I still playing that game with my Slytherins! He wanted to shout at the old man.
"It is because they are hedging their bets, unsure if you're truly working for Tom or not, that they wait. They keep you at arms length, waiting for a definite answer." Albus continued, glancing at him tiredly, "One they'll get when he returns. This is why we need a new spy. You know this. Why bring it up yet again, Severus?"
"Why?" He snarled, "You're not the one personally destroying a girl's soul!" He spat out, standing up suddenly, the chair clattering to the ground as he started pacing. "You've made me teach her the dark arts, she should have been suited for it with her heritage… But I can see the destruction it's wreaking on her. How it's harming her, twisting her, breaking her." Severus was a master of the dark arts, but not everyone was suited for the art. Those who weren't…
Needless to say, he was not happy to force it even further on the girl. He wasn't a pleasant person, everyone could agree, himself included. But he wasn't a monster, either.
Albus sank back into his chair, hands resting on the desk, shaking slightly as he bowed his head, looking morose. "She's the ideal spy. A war is coming. There is no other choice." He whispered, shamefaced.
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"There's always another choice!" Severus roared suddenly, spittle flying as he turned savage eyes on the headmaster. "Damn you! You could have at least chosen an adult, ideal spy or not! I've seen her mind, while teaching her to try and occlude to my level, on your bloody orders! Her spirit is literally suffocating under the pressure!"
"She's 17. Younger than her have suffered from this fight." Albus closed his eyes, continuing with a weary and sad tilt to his voice. "With Quirrell here, this is the ideal time to embed a spy, and…" He grimaced, opening his eyes, meeting Severus' eyes with unshed tears shining in them, "A broken girl will appeal to Tom that much more…"
Severus could barely breathe; he wanted to kill the headmaster so badly right now, damnable unbreakable vows and the idiots that take them! He knew that for this war to be won, sacrifices would be made. He was ready for it. Ready to die if it's what it would take. Not… This… He was supposed to be sacrificed. To wash away his sins. Instead here he was. Adding to them. Doing things no different than a Death Eater. Again!
This was the first war all over again, students made to die so the adults could keep hiding behind their walls! History was just repeating itself.
He couldn't care less if they all blew themselves up due to failing to understand magic. If they managed to mess with their minds like that idiot Hufflepuff child, that was on them, stupid children not listening to those more intelligent and skilled. Sacrificing children because the adults weren't willing, was one step too far for even Severus.
With a wordless hiss he swiveled in place, robe billowing as he left the office behind. He had a child to further break down into pieces so that she'd be able to be wielded by the headmaster. Damn unbreakable vows, damn headmaster, damn him!
Damn them all, neither side deserved to survive this war!
In the silent office, Albus wiped at his eyes, letting out a tired sigh. He felt twice his age, guilt eating at him, as always.
"It's the only way." The portrait of Phineas Black said darkly. The rest of the headmaster's portraits kept their silence, none of them willing to wade into the subject.
"Thank you, Phineas, apologies if your support in this matter does not fill me with much hope that it's the right choice." Albus snapped, uncharacteristically for him, but he couldn't help but agree with Severus deep down. The girl didn't deserve this. For all that she'd volunteered her services when he'd first explained it. She was the ideal spy, someone Tom would happily snap up and that would easily progress the ranks. She had the heritage, the power, the skill, there were no other candidates. She was the only one Albus had.
Exactly what they needed now that Severus would likely not be trusted by Tom again. Even with his act for the students, (Not that it was much of one, as it suited his personality) Albus thought ruefully, the Death Eaters barely trusted him. When Tom returns eventually…
Albus had hoped Severus would be able to worm his way back in during these past years, convincing Tom with years of continued service to his followers - Tom's confidence in Legilimency versus Severus Occlumency, another avenue he'd hoped would be enough. That overconfidence perhaps would allow him to at least give Severus a chance - if the likes of Lucius Malfoy stood behind him. Yet they'd kept Severus at arms length for the most part. Albus, feeling Tom moving about the world again, had finally had to give up. Severus would not be the spy in the coming war.
A seventeen year old girl would have to grow into the role.
The things he did for the betterment of all… To prepare for the war ahead, he'd even bartered in the Wizengamot, laws would come to pass that hopefully would mostly be used for good. But they did hold potential for evil. And all because he needed what he would get for not standing in the way. To ensure the second war did not end in devastation and evil.
For the greater good… How he hated those words now.
Yet, he still had to follow them. One girl, measured against the entire wizarding world. The choice should be easy. It wasn't. It pulled at Albus painfully. But easy or hard. There was only ever one choice.
For the greater good.
Gellert… You must be laughing at me right now…
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The winter holidays did not start quite how I'd have imagined them to, for all my bluster about giving lady Longbottom a talking to, reality ensured otherwise.
Neville and I were met at Kings Cross by the Longbottom house elf, Mitzy. Who led us through the floo and let me enter the wards.
Things remained like that, Lady Longbottom constantly at the Ministry, Neville apologizing for her. Apparently something big was being negotiated, and Lady Longbottom was in the middle of it all.
It did irritate me however, because Neville being completely left to himself like this… She could have just told him to stay at Hogwarts if she isn't going to be around for him.
It made me feel guilty as all hell, when I finished my breakfast on the first Monday of the hols, waving goodbye to a glum Neville as I flooed to the Ministry for days of testing.
Hopefully his grandmother would show up sometime before we're all asleep one of these days.
Although I don't know if I could make myself ruin Neville's day if she did, by talking to her about his wand. I don't know how long she'll be busy at the Ministry for. Perhaps she'll be gone the entire holiday? Do I disrupt the one day I might see her, when it might be the only day Neville has with her.
I discard the thoughts as I enter the Ministry, I've studied the tests Malfoy provided. Just from memory and my studies, I could answer, like I suspected, 99 percent of everything on them. There were curveball questions on every test however, ones obviously added in from higher education then Hogwarts. To really test someone at the NEWT level, to see if they just could read, or if they could understand the information. And use it to have a shot at those curveball questions.
Having studied the tests, I felt confident of passing with a perfect score. Or more, to be honest, in Divination and History of Magic, perhaps Astronomy as well. I'd have no problem showing off some extra credit skills there.
Not surprisingly, when I arrive at the Department of Magical Education. I'm the only one there to take the tests. Christmas time is likely not when most decide to book their OWLs and NEWTs.
Griselda Marchbanks herself awaits me, or I assume so, because she doesn't introduce herself, she's old as dirt though, and drooping over her desk like she's just about to croak. She just grunts at me, pointing at a single desk and the heap of parchments that lay on it. A quill and ink has been provided. Before I can begin, she seemingly falls asleep. Not that I can trust that, seems like an obvious ploy to try and catch a cheater.
Considering the amount of anti-cheating wards that likely exist in this room in particular, I hardly think the act is necessary. But old people will be old people, I guess. Got to draw amusement from somewhere.
I settle down, quickly filling in my name, and then the first question. Great… only a few hundred to go. On this test. Then the NEWT..
These are going to be a long few days…
But once it's done… Glorious freedom, my hours opened up again. Hours upon hours to research and to explore Hogwarts.
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It's as I come down for breakfast on my third day of testing that I finally meet Augusta Longbottom. Neville is still happily snoring away, as is his usual morning routine.
The dowager lady sits at the table, a Daily Prophet in her wrinkly hands as she peers at me with sharp eyes. She isn't donning that famous vulture hat in the house thankfully, her steel gray hair meticulously up in a bun, her green robes immaculate.
"Lady Longbottom." I murmur, tilting my head downwards slightly.
"Let me get a good look at you, Lucas, is it?" She beckons me over, assessing me, clicking her tongue judgmentally, "You'll do." She says after a moment, turning back to her paper.
I stand in silent aggravation for a few moments, surely that's not it? But yes, she's completely dismissed me now. I slide into a seat, staring at her, waiting. I'm going to make her acknowledge me, and explain what the hell that was. Because, rude.
"Did you need something? Well, speak up, boy?" She snaps after a few minutes of me simply sitting there, staring at her. "The rudeness of youngsters these days." She tsks, "And my Neville has been so effusive with praise about you in his letters.."
"I am sorry, Lady Longbottom, I was waiting for the continuation of whatever possessed you to beckon me over and say that I'll do, it seemed the kind of thing that required a continuation of conversation." I say politely, somewhat. No doubt she can hear the tone and the overly formal words and pick out my annoyance.
"You've got some nerve." She says, lowering her newspaper, peering at me. Before she smirks, "Good. You'll need it."
This woman is going to drive me insane. I think irritably. She did it, again!
"And what will do? And for what, will I need it?" I ask, slightly less politely. Tacking on a begrudging, "Lady Longbottom," On the end.
"I don't discuss politics with eleven year olds." She says with a snort, "You'll find out eventually, youngsters these days need to learn patience, in my day we certainly were seen, not heard." She says pointedly, gazing at me.
"In your day, did you force incompatible wands on your children too, or is that just now?" I say, done with the games, if she's going to be rude, I will too.
"What are you saying, boy?" Augusta says slowly, lowering her paper, her gaze razor sharp. "Do not take my hospitality for granted!"
"Neville is using his father's wand. His still alive father. It isn't bonding with him. It's no fault of his. It's yours, Ollivander will tell you the same thing, I dare you to ask!" I throw it all on the table, boldly. This woman is annoying me, she's rude and cryptic and I want nothing to do with it, so all cards out, if she tosses me out, there's still the Leaky.
"Neville told you about his father?" Augusta says with some shock, before there's a flush of red on her cheeks as she leans forward, "You dare tell me what to do!?"
"Neville didn't tell me, I research history enough that I ran across the information," I lie, staring her in the eyes stubbornly, "If I'm wrong about Ollivander I'll apologize on my hands and knees if you wish." I glare at her challengingly, "But I'm not wrong."
"Gran… What's going on?" Neville says, as he enters the room with wide eyes, staring at the two of us glaring at each other, leaning forward over our respective ends of the table.
"Neville… Get dressed. We're going to Ollivander, and afterwards, your friend has a show to put on for the Longbottom family for his lip." Augusta says sternly, rising up and sweeping out of the room.
"Lucas… What did you do!?" Neville groans, before rushing out of the room behind his grandmother without waiting for an answer.
I shake my head, rubbing my eyes, I blame the stress of the exams I'm taking for my limited ability to handle bullshit.
But honestly. Telling Augusta Longbottom to put up or shut up was so damn satisfying I'd probably do it again given the same choice.
She was obviously a smart woman. If given time, she'd figure it out on her own now that I've mentioned Frank still being the owner of his wand - or possibly… One of the Lestranges or Barty Crouch Jr, depending on if wand lore worked like canon. She'd come to the same conclusion now, eventually. But I wasn't going to bloody wait for eventually with how rude she was.
I'd pushed for a resolution. I didn't want to make things uncomfortable for Neville in the long run too. Whether she kicks me out or not, as long as Neville gets a new wand. It's all groovy.
And if he returns without one. I'll damn well owl the Prophet myself and claim Augusta Longbottom is making her son use a wand who's allegiance now lies with their torturers.
That muck rag will eat that kind of shit up.
When I returned from the Ministry later that afternoon, it was to a beaming Neville, showing me his new wand. Absolutely in love already, and feeling it in a way he never had before.
I don't get an apology from Augusta Longbottom, nor an explanation. I don't really care.
At least she didn't kick me out.
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Ministry of Magic.
Last day of tests.
"Lucas Greenwood, is it?" An affable voice says from behind me.
Having just finished a NEWT with over 800 questions, I am in no mood for conversation, that's why I'd found a quiet corner in the ministry cafeteria and hid, just eating mechanically, because my brain still needed fuel. Or a lobotomy. Anything to make me stop thinking in math.
I turn around to tell whoever it is to bugger off, and almost swallow my tongue. Because behind me, followed by a gaggle of others and a pair of Auror guards, is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. The entire cafeteria is looking in my direction right now, or in his, same difference for my peace and quiet though.
"Yes… That is my name, what can I do for you, Minister?" I say quietly, inwardly cringing. The last thing I need right now is this man getting involved. I just want to take some tests, please leave me alone!
"I just wanted to congratulate you, my boy." Fudge says cheerfully, "As you're the only one currently testing, with most students preferring the summer holidays, some scores have already been tabulated," Fudge winks at me exaggeratedly, his bowler hat almost falling off his head, "It just so happens I was visiting with Griselda and took a peek at some of your results. Highest divination and history scores in British history, quite a feat!"
I smile weakly, the man might act affably, but I can see the cunning in his eyes, and the greed. I've become useful to him through this. Super. Can't I just get fame without the Fudge, please. I beg internally.
I knew it was pointless. Fudge, whether Canon or here, was probably the same kind of opportunistic slimy politician.
"Magic just fascinates me…" I say, trailing off into silence. To be fair, I'm not at my best, I've just put my brain through 800 questions of Arithmancy. I'd challenge anyone to be fully coherent after that.
Fudge makes a humming sound in the back of his throat, patting me on the shoulder, "I believe I read an article about you, young man, this summer, about your love for magical history. You're certainly proving the ability to back up your interest with action!" There's some murmurs from his entourage as they realize who I am.
I wince as I recognize Dolores Umbridge in the back of his entourage. Unlucky for her, instead of her movie version, she much more fit her book description. She was… Noticeable one could say. She was also glaring daggers at me…
Oh, come on! I think, exasperated, How is any of this my fault, now? She better not exchange Harry's name for mine on the hit list. I do not want to be around the minister, thank you very much.
"Thank you, Minister." I say with a rictus of a grin on my face, realizing I've been quiet too long. Please for the love of Merlin, leave! I beg mentally.
"Oh, call me Cornelius, young man." The portly and affable looking man says, patting my shoulder. I barely hold back a flinch as a camera flash goes off. Of course he's followed by reporters… I groan inwardly.
"You're one to keep an eye on, my lad. Lots of changes are coming, you've really stirred things up." Fudge says, eyes flashing with some unidentifiable emotion as he looks down at me. Before it turns into a look of barely hidden avarice, as he grabs my shoulders and pulls me up, standing next to me, an arm around my shoulders. "Everyone," He calls out, the reporters all watching us like hawks, "Due to a bill that just now, today, passed the Wizengamot, the magical world has entered a new era!" Fudge smiles widely, gripping me tightly, "Thanks to this young man, bringing the Wizengamot together like it has never before been seen, uniting both light and dark. Brought together in discussions due to his impassioned plea earlier this year. To protect magical traditions, its history and culture, and to embrace the cultural re-education of muggleborns." Fudge indicates me with a nod, as I just smile stoically at the cameras going off, trying not to grimace. "Young Lucas here, is a muggleborn, a first year at that. And he's currently beating all educational records, taking OWLs…And NEWTs, with the highest recorded scores in British history." Obviously exaggerating, I've only got the highest scores in two subjects from what he himself said, I think with annoyance.
Fudge lets the shocked gasps in the cafeteria and the loud din of mutters go on for a minute before he gestures for quiet. "Yes, utterly enchanting isn't it. To see what can be achieved when muggleborns have proper appreciation for the magical culture and history that lie behind excellence!" Fudge says grandly, making a sweeping gesture with his free arm, "Now, thanks to my work," Fudge preened and posed for the cameras, "And your Wizengamot, "He allowed, with a small smile and a wink, before growing serious again, "The issues that have plagued our muggleborn for centuries will die down, the muggleborn problem is going to be solved!"
I stand in silence, feeling my stomach churning as Fudge continues this totally happenstance meeting and campaign speech - it's not planned at all... The fame I'm not opposed to, at this point. It was part of the plan. But I do not like what I'm hearing right now. Cultural re-education? What does that even mean? Muggleborns with proper appreciation. The Muggleborn problem.
I have a bad feeling about this.
I also hope Griselda Marchbanks allows the excuse that the Minister of Magic kidnapped me for a photo op - as a reason for why I'd be late for my last test.
Because it doesn't seem like he's even pausing for breath. And he's certainly not letting go of me.
This is… Troublesome.
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Returning to Longbottom manor after finishing up all my tests, I find myself alone, apart from the house elves, the lady Longbottom still at the Ministry, and having brought Neville to allow him to mingle with the families of the other Wizengamot members. The whole Ministry is in a somewhat celebratory mood - major changes like today are literally unheard of. The light and dark factions just don't do that kind of stuff.
In the hours I've been busy, finishing up my tests at the Ministry, a special edition of the Daily Prophet has been printed and delivered. I note with some relief that somehow, my absolute reluctance is not obvious on the picture on the front page, me and the Minister standing together as he speaks. At worst I look slightly dazed, which can be explained away easily as having to listen to Fudge talk for forty five minutes.
As I go through the paper, a furrow grows in my brow at the multitude of changes the Wizengamot pushed through. For starters. They overrode Dumbledore, not something I'd think would happen with his currently pristine reputation. Binns has been fired from History of Magic. While Dumbledore can still hire a new teacher, they'll now have to follow an actual proper history curriculum, currently being worked on by Griselda Marchbanks and her team. Reading between the lines, the Ministry will not accept a dud in the position. Dumbledore gets it right - or the Ministry will.
How annoying. I pass out of History of Magic because of how useless the class is - going without sleep to swallow a useless curriculum of goblin rebellions and other dross for seven years of the subject. And now they're going to make my favorite subject actually worthwhile. I huff, amused despite my irritation. Of course, that's what would happen. Why would I expect anything else?
I continue reading, finding that it is now law that muggle holidays can not be celebrated in magical communities. No one's forced to celebrate a magical tradition or cultural day if they don't want to, but they are not allowed to switch them out for muggle ways. It's magical or nothing, now. Preservation of magical culture it's being called. The Daily Prophet practically orgasming in its praise of the move.
Personally… Although I can see some muggleborns being upset about it, I couldn't care less. Magical traditions and cultural holidays and rituals were way more interesting. Seems like this Christmas will be the last one celebrated thusly at Hogwarts. Not really a big loss. I'm looking forward to it, in fact. Maybe I'd actually get to see some honest to Merlin celebratory rituals. Because yes, the laws on rituals for the purpose of continuing magical traditions had been eased as well.
Soon enough, I find the more… interesting ways to solve the so called muggleborn problem.
Magical culture and traditions would be a correspondence class that each muggleborn or muggle raised half blood would need to complete before they could join Hogwarts. Which necessitates telling muggleborns they're magical at 10 instead of 11. Quite the change. I'm surprised it passed, to be honest.
As long as they don't fudge the test results as an excuse to turn down muggleborn… It could be actually useful. Yet… I note in the paper that this is being funded by some of the families on the dark side of the fence instead of the Ministry - probably how it passed. Which means all muggleborns will spend a year learning only what they want them too.
I can already see the potential abuse there. How the hell did that get buy-in from the light faction and the neutrals? A year of someone like Malfoy controlling the curriculum muggleborns with no idea of magic would have to learn? Yeah… No way that can go wrong at all.
Am I missing something about the political situation?
I continue reading, a frown growing.
If that got passed with light votes - it's nothing compared to the last laws passed…
Muggleborn relocation act and the re-education act.
Since Muggleborn are going to be informed early, increasing the risks to the statute of secrecy, somehow, the Ministry reserves the right to remove muggleborn from their families if they should appear to be against magic. Remove kids from abusive homes, hell yes. Good idea. It also doesn't state where they're going. There's no mention of an orphanage.
But this… It leaves things open like hell, appearing to be against magic?
So if the parents say, isn't witchcraft against the bible? Do they get immediately Obliviated and their kids removed? Depending on who's dealing with them? Do the light faction just see better educated and protected muggleborn and not realize the giant loopholes to abuse it?
No… They can't all be that dumb. So that makes me wonder… What did they get, to allow this? What backroom deals am I missing?
Where the hell is Dumbledore in all this? He's not even mentioned in the articles so far, except for when they talk about the History of Magic change - which hardly can avoid mentioning him since he's the headmaster of the school.
The Muggleborn re-education act… Every Muggleborn. Including those already graduated from Hogwarts. Will need to take the same correspondence class the incoming muggleborn will. And pass it. Muggleborn can not go to Hogwarts, or continue working or living in the magical world, without receipt of a completed course. Which… Gives the Muggleborn already at Hogwarts only the summer to finish a year's worth of a course. Because I doubt they'll have it ready until summer. Hopefully the Muggleborn turning 11 this year get a pass until next summer. Damn… I'll have to do this as well…
This… Is a slippery slope. It's not that far of a step from all muggleborns needing to finish a course to stay, to all muggleborns needing to register all their information at the Ministry, to muggleborn may only use a wand in these circumstances, to, etc etc. And they're all cheering for it, saying it's great how they're looking out for muggleborns and educating us all, clearing all the divides that are creating issues…
Like muggleborns are the only reason there's an issue…
This… No way this all started because of that stupid article. This has all been in motion in some form, and I've somehow proved their point to the light faction, that a muggleborn with respect and understanding of history and culture could do better.. Like any of that had anything to do with it.
But I can't exactly explain it either. Sorry, from another world, that's why, that would go over well…
This… Is going to set off a shitstorm at Hogwarts.
Many of the older muggleborns will see this from the lens of history of the muggle world. They'll understand where having a bunch of special circumstances to allow muggleborn the same rights as everyone else leads to.
And I just became the poster boy for all these laws.
Fantastic…
Oh shit… Hermione is going to freak.
I'll let Harry deal with that one. I decide, he's the brave Gryffindor after all.
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My return to Hogwarts is uneventful, simply flooing from Longbottom manor to Professor Sprout's office. Neville having seen me off, Augusta Longbottom not so much as saying a word to me.
Of course I have to endure half an hour of tea and biscuits as she interrogates me gently about my testing. The woman puffing up with pride at how well I'd done. Praising me to a point I'm honestly starting to feel embarrassed to be there, and wondering if she'll notice me sneaking out.
I have a feeling she's going to play up my achievements for a while. Hufflepuffs don't get much credit, it's going to be milked until Harry does something crazy that can take over the chatter. Or until Diggory becomes a Triwizard champion… If that even happens.
I am one of only three Hufflepuffs that are actually in the castle, so the common room feels very empty, once I finally escape Professor Sprout. Tonks, for some reason, has stayed for the hols, and so has Ophelia, yet the common room feels empty, because the two girls avoid each other as much as possible - for some reason.
I have no idea what's been going on with those two the last little while.
I don't care much either way, I have too many other things on my plate - Tonks is a big girl, she can take care of herself, she knows where I am if she needs me. Too many things out of my control are moving in the shadows. Things I have no power to do anything about…
Yet.
It was time to do something about one thing I could control.
My mind.
Christmas was arriving shortly. That means Harry Potter will explore the castle, alone, under an invisibility cloak. I have the Marauders map. He can't hide from me.
Peter Pettigrew will be mine. And I will learn more of the mind arts. So that I can undo what I've done to my own mind. And find what hid behind Quirrell's obliviation.
Soon.
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Christmas dinner is fairly subdued, there are only a handful of students present, and the knowledge of it being the last Christmas at Hogwarts that include muggle traditions seems to have severely affected the Headmasters level of cheer.
There isn't much decoration, and there's no real festivities either, simply a Christmas dinner.
Even Snape seems in a worse mood than usual, and that is saying something. On the flipside, Sprout is positivity brimming with cheer. Even McGonagall is starting to look a little strained as she listens to my head of house once again extol the virtues of Hufflepuff house. The house holding the brightest wizard in British history.
Flitwick might honestly challenge her to a duel if she keeps saying that. I've never seen the tiny man look so annoyed before. I didn't think he could.
I'm surprised Snape hasn't cut her off yet though, although the absolute death glares he sends me, likely means he's blaming me for Sprout murdering their ears.
Great, I need more problems, sure, just keep dumping it on me. Potions bullying ala Harry Potter, here I come. I'm not supposed to be the main protagonist, people. Even if I get famous, you're still supposed to go after Harry Potter. I'm going to have a hard seven years if they're going to match my first semester and winter holidays.
Dumbledore barely speaks, seeming transfixed by his food. The laws passed by the Wizengamot must have hit him pretty hard. I almost feel bad for him, but then, I figure the fact this place is so fucked up, is partly his fault due to inaction, so he can look sad all he wants, I'm not going to waste my sympathy.
I leave the dinner early, finding a location close to Gryffindor Tower, unfolding the Marauders map, waiting.
It takes a long while, longer than I had expected, but eventually I see the name Harry Potter exit the tower on the map. Silently I wait and watch.
I have been practicing the stunning spell for this exact day. I know he's going to the library, although I doubt even the Deathly Hallow he's wearing will get him access to the restricted section. It might fool the wards. But he needs more than that to enter, Madame Pince's keys for one.
As he walks by the room I'm hiding in, I silently step out, one eye on the map. I'd left the door just minimally ajar so I wouldn't have to open it, just push it slowly, minimizing sounds. Seeing him walking in the middle of the little corridor on the map, I silently raise my wand, I try my best to alter my voice, making it rougher and harsher, hopefully older sounding, as I intone, "Stupefy."
The Deathly Hallow does not stop spell fire thankfully. The thud of Harry hitting the stone floor makes me wince a little. Sorry, Harry. I think guiltily. It's for the greater good!
I feel for his body, finding it, I drag the invisibility cloak off him. I double-check the map just in case, I see no one nearby, still. But I can't leave Harry in the hallway like this, in case someone will pop up again from nowhere, like they had with my ritual. With a wave of my wand, I levitate Harry, bringing him with me into the room I had been waiting in to ambush him. The cloak hanging off my arm.
I check him over, but I can't find any injuries, so he can't have hit anything too hard, hopefully. I don't know how long he'll stay out with the stunning spell, so I don't waste anymore time, I pull the cloak over myself, silently lamenting having no time to geek out over being under the invisibility cloak. Maybe another time.
I hurriedly move through the corridors, arriving at Gryffindor tower within minutes, thankfully the portrait has not left - which would have completely screwed me. So thank you magic gods or whatever deity, I owe you one. I whisper the password, finding some amusement in the fact Ron just gave it to me earlier when I wondered out loud how their passwords and entrance to the tower worked, compared to the other houses. And I was sneaking in, using that information to steal his rat.
Well, considering who that rat is. He really ought to thank me, actually.
I don't pause to stare at the Gryffindor common room, I'm on a mission, I quickly make my way up the stairs, quietly opening the door to Ron and Harry's dorm.
A few quick steps have me by Ron's bed. I grimace as I see Scabbers laying at the foot of the bed. At least he isn't sleeping with the damn rat on-top of him or something creepy like that.
In quick succession I fire off two stunning spells. One for Scabbers, one for Ron. I want no chance he'd wake up in the middle of my abduction.
My Animagus proof cage comes out of my mokeskin pouch and I open it, levitating Scabbers until he is above it, not wanting to even touch him. I turn the cage and end the spell, the fat rat falling into the open cage with a soft thud. I immediately close and lock the cage. Sending one quick glance around the room to make sure I didn't somehow leave something behind.
Within minutes I'm back where I left Harry, covering him with the cloak again - with some effort. No one is the wiser of what has happened.
Although I probably didn't help Harry, by giving him the mystery of who knocked him out to puzzle over.
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I enter the Undercroft with Pettigrew still stunned and locked away in the goblin silver cage I carried him in. Having taken the time to make sure Harry is covered as closely as possible as he was before, even levitating him out in the hallway again - albeit putting him to the side, so he doesn't get stepped on. He'd wake up wondering what happened, but there was no helping that.
"Success, I take it?" Sebastian says casually as I drop the cage on the desk.
"I have him, yes." I say quietly. Not looking forward to what I'll see in the traitors mind. But knowing it's necessary for my own mind to heal. I need to learn Legilimency.
I turn to Ominis portrait. "You said you'd teach me, if I had a subject that was not innocent nor a student. I have him, a Death Eater."
Ominis pursed his lips in displeasure. "I suppose I will honor my words. I do not like the idea of any student having the power of Legilimency." He grumbled, "But I did say I would, so I shall."
"Have I proven myself to be unworthy of it? I've done more in one semester than most Hogwarts students do in their seven years here." I say testily. The nerve of some magical portraits, really. How many hoops do I need to jump through?
"Exactly." Ominis says ominously. "What could you be, I wonder. With even more power at your fingertips."
"He'd still be a Hufflepuff," Sebastian scoffs, leaning against the border of his portrait, "Don't be such a worrywart, Ominis."
"It is because I look ahead, that I survived, when you did not, Sebastian!" Ominis says coldly. Getting a chilled smile in return from Sebastian, not that he could see it.
"I've promised not to use it on students." I say slowly, "I can't guarantee what I'll be, six years down the line, but surely that promise means something."
"Very well, but as I've stated before, should this man be a master occlumens, you will get nowhere no matter what skill you gain." Ominis warns, looking utterly reluctant. "If he has perfected the void, fake memories, utterly indistinguishable from real memories will be all you can touch."
I snort, drawing my wand, "He is not a master occlumens, that I can practically guarantee." I say, shaking my head at the thought of Peter Pettigrew being a master of the mind arts. Sure, things were different from canon. But c'mon, master occlumens, pfth, Wormtail is not that. I can guarantee that!
"Fine. You know the incantation, obviously." Ominis drawls slowly. Crossing his arms over his chest, "Reading a mind is not a science, it will be jumbled, a great mass of random thoughts and memories, a disciplined mind is necessary." He stresses. "Any stray thoughts you have, will send you towards any memories of the victim regarding such a thing." His lips twitch slightly upwards, "Make sure you've been to the privy beforehand, you do not want to have a stray thought of needing it while in someone's mind." He warns, drawing laughter out of Sebastian.
"Was that a joke? Ominis?" Sebastian asks, utterly delighted. His eyes narrow suddenly, a sly smirk appearing, "Or speaking from experience?"
Tellingly Ominis is completely silent as Sebastian snickers.
I hum in thought, disregarding the toilet humor, "So say I want to view his memories of Death Eater meetings?" I ask. "Like -"
Ominis cuts in before I can continue, "Then you'd enter into a jumble of memories that has even the slightest connection to Death Eaters or meetings regarding them, you will have to be much more specific." He frowns, unseeing eyes staring in my direction, "The mind arts are no joke, if you fall into memories too quickly, too often, without direction, you can lose yourself, until you're stuck flowing in the river of their subconscious, never to get out.*
"So the basis of mind reading is knowing what you're looking for…" I muse out loud. It made sense, if a mind held a person's entire life, a mind reader would be lost in a sea of dross and general things - like memories of brushing your teeth. So you had to focus, to zero in on one thing. Which would cut away most of it - yet that one thing could still be connected to hundreds of memories - so yet again, you'd have to focus it further. And continue until you find what you were looking for. Obviously I am not going to lose focus so there was no chance of me becoming adrift, so I took note of the warning, but I'm not overly worried.
"How does any possible shielding he might have, affect this?" I ask, curious. Pettigrew is definitely not at Snape's level - but he might have at least some training. He was a spy for awhile, surely he at least tried to learn it.
"If he has some training, the best he can do is attempt to divert you or throw you out, rudimentary Occlumency can not craft fake memories. Although until you get better he'll likely succeed fairly easily at diverting you at least." Ominis says dismissively, "In that case you can just tire him out by constant violations of his mind, it will open it up further." From the look of distaste on his face, Ominis is not a fan of this tactic.
"I guess there's nothing to do but try, I'm sure I'll have more questions once I've seen what it's actually like." I tell the portrait. I take a deep breath centering myself, raising my wand against the insensinate rat. Calling out, "Legilimens!"
It feels like I am sinking, yet there is nothing around me to sink through, like I'm floating in mid air, yet at the same time feeling like I'm in the ocean, sinking further still, I have no eyes, yet I can see flashes of things, too quick to take in, appearing before me. Death eater meetings. I think concentrating hard. Willing it forward. Pressing my 'presence' forward in this weightless space. It's like a curtain is pulled apart, thousands upon thousands of tiny motes of light I wasn't even aware of - departing, leaving only one bright light rapidly approaching me, or am I approaching it? I lift a hand that doesn't exist, yet still feels like it does, to shield me from the light. Trying to focus on the phrase Death Eater meetings, while in the back of my mind somewhere a niggling of doubt grows, surely there can't only be one memory.
Did I do it wrong?
The light swallows me up, and suddenly I am me again, standing in a memory. I hear whispers, emotional ones, someone's arguing. I look around me and freeze. This is the burrow, I have no doubt about it. It's exactly like the books describe them. All wonky and homey at the same time.
Just barely, I can hear what must be Arthur and Molly arguing, something about the order and a crashed Death Eater meeting that had almost killed him once. Molly growing shriller as she badgers her husband, demanding he takes better care of himself, that she did not want to go back to worrying about if he would come home, like she had that night. That he couldn't just stay late at work and not let her know. How it brought back scary memories she'd rather forget.
I feel sick to my stomach, spying Ron, not older than perhaps 4 or 5, spying through a crack in the door. That's why there's only one memory of Death Eater meetings. I think - absolute horror growing throughout me. This is wrong…
I focus again, childhood memories. I flash through them, there's thousands, I'm not practicing my skill, I'm not focusing on one in particular, this isn't about that anymore. Desperately I am entering one memory after another.
No, no, no! It's all the same. This is impossible. Why? I drift between memories, before forcefully pulling myself away, remembering Ominis warning.
No wonder it had been so easy… There were no shields…
I flee the mind, falling on my ass as I return to reality. Staring in horror at the pet rat. The one that's supposed to be Peter Pettigrew. He's supposed to be an Animagus.
The one that's clearly Ron Weasley instead. Ronrat. Not Scabbers. Not Wormtail. Ronrat.
Ronald Weasley, who's last coherent memory of himself as anything but a rat, was years ago. Years!
What's even happening anymore!?
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